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bluesidez · 7 days

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[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane.

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up.

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting.

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading.

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you.

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself.

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.”

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone.

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away.

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths.

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.

You couldn’t ask for anything better.

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it.

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn.

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.

You’re starting to think the worst.

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had.

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom.

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry.

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

So much for communication.

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides.

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better.

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.

It was all too much.

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

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xjoonchildx · 3 months

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kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

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Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical

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One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap.

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames.

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet.

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand.

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence.

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“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on.

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool.

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances.

He’d finished you.

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white.

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters.

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure.

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The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts.

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.”

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

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You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face.

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side.

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.”

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once.

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire.

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth.

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her. She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth.

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for.

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.”

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.”

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles.

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger.

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri.

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers?

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours.

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her.

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks.

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman.

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face.

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she?

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice.

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear?

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes.

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that.

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it.

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again.

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark.

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike.

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel.

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.”

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King.

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs.

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire.

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed.

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.”

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown.

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover.

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone.

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him.

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance.

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this.

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation.

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin, watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury.

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope smut #j-hope x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts x reader

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

I would like to request 141 and Konig noticing that they needed something from the reader (presence, hearing the voice, something the reader gave them) to calm down and they notice they are in love with the reader and they're just "I'm fcked". If it was too vague you don't need to do it, thank you and be safe

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°⋆࿓ Needing You // 141 headcanons (+ k)

『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box Warning(s): none, sfw + gn!reader Word Count: 641. A/N: might start answering requests in this shorter "drabble" format. It takes a lot less time on my end, and I think it looks better :)

SYNOPSIS; he realizes he needs you; a.k.a head over heels in love with you. ˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

price realizes when he feels his exterior soften. sure, he's still the same on the battlefield. but, even at work, when there aren't bullets plummeting toward him — you've gotten to him. he'll take the teases of his coworkers, all of it, only because you're there.

price is no less professional, no less of a leader, but even the most clueless on his team noticed how much... lighter he seemed. less tension in his shoulders, no more evenings with a half-empty body to cradle until he passes out.

he would never the subtle changes unless someone pointed it out (if they dared). you, with him, strong in the areas where he's weak. that's what a man like john needs.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

simon realizes when he can't fight himself anymore. when he stumbled his way up the stairs after an exhausting mission, ripped his mask off his head, and wanted nothing but you. your touch, your scent, your roaming fingers, the whispers of comfort you provide him.

the mattress creaks under his dead weight as he settles into his side of the bed, wrapping both arms around your torso, gripping on like you were his lifeline.

in a literal sense, you were. you were the reason simon fought so hard to get home. he couldn't restrict himself anymore. once, it was him convinced he would poison you with his past, and now he only cared that you were a part of his future.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

soap realizes when you've become a drug. him, wrapped around your finger so tight he'll never let go. once he falls — he falls hard. it's a bad habit of johnny's. but with you, this run is different. you understand him... or try to, and that's enough to make him sink to his knees in worship of you.

anything you need; it's yours. something material, something verbal, something subtle, something from himself. he'll have moments where he gains awareness of just how far he will go for you, yet he wouldn't change a second of it.

you stuck around this long for a reason, right? besides, he never learns his lessons, nor does he give up. he's your rock and that's how a man like soap wants it.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

gaz realizes when he spends every waking moment wanting to talk to you. for a man so content with his own solitude, it's a striking contrast to who he was before he met you. video calls, text paragraphs, even letters if he's deserted enough on deployment.

[password locked for safety, of course] he has countless screenshots on his personal cell. sometimes they're of you half-asleep on call, a smile he caught in time, others are blurry because you were in the middle of moving.

his letters are an array of entertainment written just for you. sights he saw across the world, a joke he heard, what he wants to do with you when he's home — all a distraction from the warfare surrounding him as the ink glides across the paper.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

könig realizes when you consume his thoughts. he's focused, driven, a calamitous workaholic, even. not for long, though. his work is still a heavy portion of who he is, and that's how he wants it to be. there's no way you'll ever be the highest priority — but you'll be the closest thing to it he can manage.

he finds himself searching for you first, no matter the situation. even when everything is in order, his eyes are glued to you. if he's occupied, you'll always get that voiceless nod from him, as his gaze wanders.

könig's touches become less about intimacy and more a reassurance to himself that you're still his.

————— ୨୧ ————— divider cred. - cafekitsune

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beskarandblasters · 13 days

Text

You’re the Loss of My Life

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: I got really sad last night and cranked this out. To all my angst lovers, I hope you enjoy.

Summary: You reminisce on your time with your riduur after his death.

Word count: 770

Warnings: whole lotta angst, fluff in the form of memories, riduur = spouse, talks of death

“And I’ll still see it until I die, you’re the loss of my life”

You thought he was invincible. Your big strong bounty hunter turned loving riduur seemed indestructible.

You had a simple life, living in your quiet home on Nevarro. You never thought you’d be the one to enjoy a domestic lifestyle. But you quickly learned that as long as you had Din and Grogu, life would be complete.

Your favorite days were spent watching Din chase Grogu around the backyard or observing Grogu levitate countless amounts of frogs from the pond. You and Din would share a laugh, remarking about how this was the perfect place for him. He would tell you how there was no one else wanted by his side, raising his son.

Not all of your favorite moments were spent at home, though. You loved venturing out to the marketplace as a family of three, shopping for groceries for the week, and inevitably buying Grogu a toy that caught his eye. Din would playfully scold you for spoiling the kid and you had to gently remind him that he does the same.

But those days are gone. When Bo-Katan and the Armorer returned, pleading for help because of an attack on Mandalore, he couldn’t say no. That night he was packing his things and preparing the Starfighter for takeoff. You leaned in the doorway and said, “Who would be foolish enough to attack Mandalorians?”

“They’re still getting their footing on Mandalore,” he gently reminded you, “They’re left more vulnerable than ever, with no communication with the rest of the galaxy.”

“You’re an honorable man, Din Djarin.”

He walked over to you and took his hands in yours, promising you that he’d be home soon.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” he whispered. You never got used to hearing him utter those words.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you repeated.

And then he was gone. That was the last time you ever saw him.

His absence was a waking nightmare. Combined with the lack of communication, you felt like you were going crazy. You spent many sleepless nights pacing the empty house as Grogu slept soundly. But then you chastised yourself for being so worried. Din’s the bravest and strongest man you’ve ever known. He’d come back home to you.

But when Bo-Katan’s ship landed in your yard two weeks later, you knew something had gone awry. She walked to your door with her head hung low, an uneasy expression on her face. A pit formed in your stomach and you feared the worst.

You don’t remember how she told you he died in battle. The world distorted around you, her voice drowning out into white noise. Your world had been technicolor the day you met Din. But once he died everything turned shades of black and white, an abysmal existence left in the wake of his demise.

Your mind raced with fear, wondering how you were going to raise Grogu alone. But soon the thoughts turned darker quickly.

What was his death like? Was it painful? Did he suffer? Was he thinking of you and your little family as he took his dying breath?

For months, the thought of him dying plagued your mind. Every time you closed your eyes all you could do was picture his lifeless body. You feared that this is what every day would be like for the rest of your life, consumed by the insurmountable grief his death left you with.

Bo-Katan was sure to return his armor to you but ever since she gave it back it’s been sitting at the bottom of your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at it.

But one day as you’re looking for one of Grogu’s many toys, you work up the courage to look at just his helmet. You sit on the floor of your once-shared bedroom and stroke your thumb against the hollow part of where his cheek would be. Memories flash by, countless nights where you spent tangled up in the bunk of the Razor Crest, staring directly into his T-shaped visor. But soon your memory is poisoned by the haunting image of his death once more. Normally you give in and let it happen, letting the grief consume you.

But not today. You blink back tears and think of the first meal you had in this house together. His helmet was off and the sunlight poured in from the kitchen window, illuminating his eyes into a brilliant shade of amber. He smiled and thanked you for making dinner, reaching across the table to grab your hand. His thumb stroked yours as Grogu babbled away happily.

That’s how you'll choose to remember him from now on.

End note: Thank you to @clawdee and @iron-strangers for looking this over for me!

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin drabble #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin angst #din djarin x female reader #pedrostories #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction

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itsmealaiah · 4 months

Note

Could you make one with 2010!Tokio Hotel and fem!reader just gets passed around between them (sorry if this is to weird)

dw you're good! ❤️

Passed around

can be read as male or female

tags/ warnings: Sfw and Nsfw headcanons, mentions of sex, roughness/ dom! band members, body worshipping, mention of safewords

MDNI ⚠️

Synopsis: being passed around the band is more fun then meets the eye

(i would think the cycles like a month one week for each of the members)

Tom:

He's absolutely making the most out of those seven days with you. Taking you to clubs, getting wasted, waking up hungover, still dressed in the same clothes as the previous night.

Heavy, heavy sex during this time. Doesn't matter when. Public? perfect place to throw you against a bathroom wall and have his way with you. However, in private, he's much more dedicated, savoring each part of your body with his eyes, before giving you what you're both craving.

Very careful not to get you to use a safeword. It breaks his heart when the word spills from your lips, tiny little sobs escaping as well. He'll do whatever he can to make up for it, giving you cuddles, kisses, anything for his love.

I don't think he'd be fully in love, maybe like ninety-percent but only because the band each has a turn with you every week, so you come back to him pretty much used to the max (ifykyk)

Bill:

He is never leaving your side, always with you, taking in every single moment he can. It can mean him in bed, or just a calm day together where he pampers you like crazy, doing all your favorite activities, getting the best out of this short time frame.

Shopping, little dates, trips to the park, small car rides, or just a relaxing night in with ice cream and a cheesy movie, he's doing it all. He doesn't want to miss a second, and pass up the chance to be with you.

Cuddles are an absolute standard. He doesn't like to make loving sessions of cuddling sexual, he loves just to feel your body warmth wrapped around his, being consumed by his slim, tall figure while lying down.

When you guys actually have sex, its not just quick and easy, it's with love, with gentleness, with heavy carefulness. He prides in your wellbeing, making sure you feel better than he does. In his mind, he doesn't matter, only you, he takes so, so much pride in making you feel good.

(and when you squirt from his actions he feels like king of the world)

Georg:

He hates the seven day period, always begging for more time because he doesn't want it to end. (obviously a no but still)

He'll be worried that he's not giving you enough, that he needs to do more, rushing you everywhere, prompting you to tell him its okay, to just take it easy, that there's no rush.

Once he's calmed down and is in the right headspace, he's such a caring and gentle person. Giving you little gifts, going grocery shopping for your favorite foods, surprising you with clothes or just something fancy for another time when you're out and about together.

Romantic in-home date nights are a staple in this relationship. Usually ending with sex and aftercare, their his favorite night with you. It's probably not just one night to be honest, maybe like fridays and saturdays, I find those days romantic and carefree.

When he's in the mood, he's putting you first, just like bill. He takes such a delicate approach to your body it simply makes you melt in his arms, making him smile feebly while he's pounding in and out of you. He's both a dom and a sub, the roles reversing basically on your mood.

Gustav

My man gustav. He's probably the most gentle out of all the members, like in all my fics.

Every night, out to dinner. If you get bored of the same thing every night, he'll change it up. A relaxing night in, cuddling, giving you massages, small words of comforts spilling from his lips.

Falling asleep in his arms, his heart will be filled with so much motherfucking joy he feels like he can't breathe. He'll love you even more after that, giving you so many massages it'll make you crazy.

He loves those little moments with you. it seems cheesy to the rest of the band, but he lives for them. A little kiss on the forehead, cuddles, here and there. His love language is definitely physical touch.

In bed together, he will prefer being a sub over a dom. Have yall heard that thing were big dick men are always quiet? I feel like thats gustav 🤭😏. He will practically worship your body, eyes pouring over your naked frame, taking in each twitch, each movement, each little noise you made, begging him to stop looking and start using.

he makes it worth your while in the end

a/n: thank you for reading! requests are open! ❤️

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x you #itsmealaiah #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #kaulitz twins #gustav schäfer #georg listing smut #georg listing imagines #georg listing #gustav schafer smut #gustav schafer fluff

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ofallthingsnasty · 27 days

Text

tw: workplace harassment, mental illness, gn reader, make sure to read the last paragraph as well characters: Crocodile, Doflamingo word count: 1k

While I may be suffering from "I'm a total newbie and scared shitless of my boss" disease + an anxiety disorder, this would be so perfect for either Crocodile and Doflamingo.

Just think about it… You just started working for one of them - and both men certainly demand respect, can be quite scary when provoked, but you think you can weather any storm that might be coming your way. You’re grown, you’ve got bills to pay, they’ve been professional enough so far, it won’t be too bad, right? Oh, stupid, stupid you - because they can smell your little authority figure issues ten miles upwind.

Both notice that you're green, easily impressed and hurried by their presence, notice how sweaty your hands and furrowed your brow gets - and both definitely corner you; try to get you into a frenzied state, right into panic mode just because it’s fun to see how you slowly fly off the hinges. They both toy with you in their own ways - Crocodile is just always standing behind you, silently watching, only the smell of smoke and his cologne telling you he's right there, looming over your shoulder. He enjoys the way your hands shake with whatever it is you’re doing, how you cough and shift around while he does absolutely nothing. His mere presence makes you so antsy he doesn't even have to say something and his silence is easily interpreted as criticism and mistrust by your anxious little brain. It only gets worse when he never talks about his little staring/surveillance sessions, never explains why he randomly shows up at your desk or workstation, never asks you for a word afterwards - you always feel like you’re not good enough, that no matter how long you’ve been by his side, he needs to check up on you. He’s an imposing man, too - so much bulk and smoke, just the thought of him asking you for a vis-a-vis keeps you up at night. And every day, every week spent fretting over him and his perception of you (coupled with the fact that you really, really need this job) makes you more and more insecure, makes it hard to unwind after yet another long day, makes you overanalyze every single glance, every word and move of his. He slowly creeps into your after-hours, your conversations with friends, your weekends, even your vacations. And he can tell. Crocodile notices the slight, subtle changes. The way you smooth over your clothes before talking to him, how you place an index and middle finger over sternum as if to shield yourself from him, the fucking cold sweat shining on your forehead whenever he does question a decision of yours with a gruff bark. The way you avoid his eyes, stumble over your own feet in a hurry, the way he can see that you sleep worse and worse - that’s how he knows he's got you hooked, fully and wholly. That all you're thinking about is him and work and pleasing him and being good at work and again, him and work and him and- Your job is the only thing in your life now, from the moment you wake up to the time you lay your head down to sleep, everything is consumed by thoughts of him and his opinions about you and your abilities, always aiming to please and so, so nervous to fail. It’s perfect.

Doflamingo is way more vocal about it. He'll throw your work right back into your face, all sneers and acid tongue. It’s just not enough, never enough, reflects badly on him, on his company - whatever it is you do, it hails nothing but criticism and mockery and late nights to fix your stupid mistakes. He doesn’t even give you moments of rest, he just constantly picks on you until you’re seriously considering just resigning for your own mental health. He’s methodically destroying your self-esteem, makes you doubt your own abilities - you know you shouldn’t let him creep into your head as much as he does, but when all you hear is that you’re so fucking bad at your job, how much you suck - it sticks. You’re so stressed because of him you almost have a panic attack over putting your two weeks in and despite your suffering, you keep procrastinating, keep telling yourself you’ll do it tomorrow, when you have had a full night’s sleep. Problem is - you never do. He can tell by the way you’re idling, fiddling with the straps of your bag whenever he comes in for the day that you’re trying to leave - but that you're simply too scared of his reaction to pull the trigger. And that right there; that fear, that pedestal you put him on is the perfect breeding ground for all sorts of unethical things he can push you to do for him. He starts out small; things like getting him coffee in the mornings when you never did that before, a too-warm, lingering hand on your shoulder, a comment about your outfit - every little thing is calculated, tailored to slowly destroy your boundaries while you fear him more and more, give him way more authority over your life than you should. He knows it’s psychological, that someone else might be able to flip him off and leave without ever thinking twice about him. But you… You have accepted him as the one part of your life everything hinges on - you give him all that power in your sick little brain. Oh, he’ll use it well. The fun has only just started, rest assured.

And while Crocodile gets to click his tongue, scoff and tell you that he'll take over from now on because clearly - you're just not capable and you obviously need him (not only at work but also in your whole life, silly), Doflamingo taunts you and tells you to make yourself useful, then, if you can't even do your job right. Maybe sucking his dick is your true calling - come on, let's see if you can do at least one thing right. One man wants to take your life over completely, sees you as the malleable (perfect) mess that you are, with all the potential that comes with it - and the other just wants to fuck you up for the next decade of your life, wants to be reason you wake up in the middle of night because his vicious smile still bounces around in that head of yours

#crocodile x reader #doflamingo x reader #one piece x reader #ah... if only crocodile decided to fuck me up and make me worse.. only for him to swoop in and use it as an excuse to wife me up... hmmmm..#/crocodile #/doflamingo #/one pice

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the-traveling-poet · 8 months

Note

it’s me again, and I’ve found an idea! Okay so, I’d like to request a Levi x lieutenant reader where the reader is sick but she is as stubborn as a mule and every time someone points that out she just brush it off some way, or elude the questions, until she feels so sick she can barely stand, and ask Levi for help? Thank you Lynn! 🤎🤎

Head-Cold

══════════════════════

What started off as a slight cough and a runny nose, now consumed your every waking moment in the form of a head-cold. The worse you get, the more your friends and comrades worry for your health.

But you’re fine, right?

Your stubbornness to be seen by a medic doesn’t go unnoticed by your Captain, who takes matters into his own hands.

══════════════════════

Pairing: Levi x Lieutenant!Sick!Reader

Warnings: Language, sick reader, mention of vomit

SFW, fluff, xReader

══════════════════════

A/N: Love this idea! Seriously tho the “I don’t need help I’m fine” trope that turns into the “Crush has to take care of you” trope? UNDEFEATED.

Also this request is ironic cause I’m coming down with a head cold myself xD

As always, if this doesn’t meet your expectations, I’ll rewrite whatever you prefer!

Enjoy~🤎

══════════════════════

The moment you woke up feeling nauseous, you knew today was gonna be a great day.

Rolling out of your bed with a stuffy groan, you shuffled over to your private bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. Crusty eyes looked back at you from your reflection, and a red nose drew attention to the color in your face, making you look fevered. Placing a hand on your forehead, you could nearly confirm this was the case.

Mumbling incoherently to yourself, you tried your best to clean yourself up before you had to make an appearance for the day. Before leaving your dorm room, you’d gone through at least ten tissues and wiped your face with a damp wash cloth nearly just as many times. With your hair pulled up neatly away from your face and your clothes adjusted properly on your frame, you put on your best ‘I’m fine’ face and strode out into the hall.

Steadying yourself on your feet, you slowly made your way down to breakfast with the others in your regiment, gliding your hand along the wall to keep your ever wobbling balance.

Shit…Light headed, dizzy, nauseous, runny nose…what’s next, a headache?

You entered the hall and found your way to the kitchens to grab a bowl of what appeared to be soup.

Thank god, maybe this’ll help my poor throat…

You scanned the room over with tired eyes and spotted your fellow superiors sat around their usual table. Stifling a yawn, you trudged over and plopped down near Hange and Nanaba.

“Lieutenant Y/N,” Commander Erwin greeted you formally from across the table.

“Mornin’ C’mander,” you replied back in a stuffy tone, rubbing slightly at your nose.

The conversation happening around you paused, but you were too busy suffering to notice until a hand placed itself on your shoulder. Looking over, you spotted Hange giving you a confused look.

“Y/N, dear…Is everything alright?” they asked.

“Yeah, why?” you asked with a raised brow.

“Y/N, you look sick. Are you sure you’re alright?” Nanaba pestered from your other side.

“Sick? Ehh…maybe. Nothin’ I cant handle doe.” You sniffled, your throat feeling worse from trying to talk in a volume they’d be able to hear you in.

“Maybe you should go to the infirmary…You shouldn’t attend to duties today if you’re ill. You’ll just make yourself worse and possibly spread it to someone else!” Hange’s assistant, Moblit, spoke up from the other side of the scientist.

“Nah, I’ve had a lot worse, so therefor I can’t complain. This won’t kill me.” you argued stubbornly, taking a sip of your soup to hopefully help with the aching pain there.

“You’re sick. I smell it on you.”

You looked up to see Mike joining your table, a bowl of soup in his big hands as he sat down across from Nanaba.

“I’ll be fiiiiiine,” you sniffled, ignoring their concern. You’ve dealt with many hardships in life, both physical and mental. A little head cold wouldn’t be your downfall.

Finally giving into your stubbornness, they dropped your case and resumed their previous conversations. You attempted to follow suit as you ate, but a sudden wave of nausea made you set your spoon back down with a nearly inaudible groan. Deciding you couldn’t stomach anymore, you went to stand on shaky legs and discard your bowl.

Normally you’d let one of the others have what you couldn’t eat, but if Mike was right (and his nose always was) about you being sick, you didn’t want to risk infecting anyone else. Ever you were the considerate one, despite your dismissal of your own issues.

Before you could leave the hall, you found Levi walking in with an empty cup in his hand. After refilling it, he sat near Erwin at your table. He caught your gaze, and you were quick to look away shyly.

“You look like shit,” he greeted.

“Mornin’ Levi,” you greeted back, now trying to hold in a sneeze. As Hange eagerly filled him in on your situation, you rolled your eyes and made to leave the mess hall.

Training wasn’t going to be fun…

══════════════════════

Only twenty minutes in, and you were sweating like a pig. In order to catch your breath, you’d had to resort to breathing through your mouth since your nose was completely plugged up and runny.

Great. Just great.

Your legs shook and your head spun as you got off the ground for the nth time. Taking several shallow breaths, you closed your eyes for a moment and silently prayed to anything that might be listening that the torture would end soon.

“Oi, Lieutenant.”

You snapped your eyes open with a muffled ‘huh?’ and came face to face with the gaze of a glaring Captain Levi. He was running the training course today.

He stood several feet away from you, not wanting to come any closer after all Hange had told him.

“You shouldn’t be out here training, you’ll make yourself worse. Go to the infirmary,” he commanded.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure him breathlessly, wiping at your brow and nose.

He sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “The one time I go easy on a brat and they refuse,” he mumbled to himself.

“That’s an order, L/N. Go.”

“You can’t orber me roun’. I’m a Lieutenan’.” Your stuffy voice was getting worse, paired with the scratching of your throat.

Another frustrated sigh left the Captain, but he really wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Fine, have it your way. I was just trying to help, but if you want to make yourself worse, be my guest.”

As he started to walk off, you suddenly gasped and held at your mouth.

“Oh gob oh shid,” you mumbled, catching Levi’s attention. He turned back around, only to see you taking off in the opposite direction; a hand over your mouth and stomach.

He grimaced to himself, knowing immediately what was going on.

“Damn brat…”

Not wanting to vomit in front of everyone, you had raced back into HQ, desperately trying to hold down what little breakfast you’d managed to eat earlier. Throwing your dorm room open, you raced to the bathroom and barely made it to your personal bathroom before it all came back up.

You clutched the bowl of your toilet with shaky hands and coughed, grimacing as your throat burned. After brushing your teeth and cleaning up the bathroom, and yourself with a quick shower, you decided to finally take your friend’s advice.

Not to go to the infirmary, but instead to rest. Locked away in your room, you ignored the knocks and muffled voices at your door as you curled up under the blankets on your bed.

It may have been warm outside, but you were freezing. Despite the sweat that clung to your body, you attempted to rest.

══════════════════════

What felt like an eternity later, the sound of your door being messed with woke you up out of a deep sleep. Rubbing at your sweaty brow, you groaned as you saw your locked door handle twist.

Your door opened slowly, and with blurry eyes you could make out a head of raven hair. Shuffling under the covers, you looked over your shoulder to see Levi approaching your bed.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled sleepily.

“You missed lunch. And dinner,” he stated quietly, and it was only then you noticed a tray of food in his hands.

“Oh…What time is it?” you yawned, trying your best to cover your mouth and sit up, but the dizziness came back in full force, making you groan and lay back down.

“A little after eight,” he responded, setting the tray down on your bedside table.

“I tried to check up on you earlier, but you must have really been out of it.”

“How did you even get in here this time?” you asked with a raised brow. “I locked the door.”

“I picked the lock,” he stated in a ‘you seriously have to ask?’ tone of voice.

Shooting him a look of disbelief, you shook your head and attempted to sit up again.

“Why are you even in here? I’m sick. You might get sick.” You pointed out, knowing how skittish he was about germs.

With a sigh, he sat on the edge of your bed. “I decided to swallow my pride and make sure you didn’t die in here. Firstly, that’s a lot of paper work for me. Secondly, someone has to help your stubborn ass. Might as well be me.”

“And why’s that?” You pushed for more information, a smile slowly making its way onto your face. Though his face was turned away from you, you could make out a very faint pink hue blooming over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Why not me?” he mumbled.

“Awe, you do care,” you chuckled, voice a little raspy still from sleep and your scratchy throat.

“Shut it, brat. You’re stuffy, and it’s annoying to listen to you talk. The sooner you become less annoying to me, the better.” he grumbled, shooting you a pointed look over his shoulder that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Starting to understand, you couldn’t help but grin. Maybe he did care a little more than he was trying to let on…

“You wouldn’t have had to hear me talk like this if you hadn’t come in here,” you pointed out teasingly.

He didn’t have a retort for this, so instead he sighed in annoyance and picked up the forgotten tray of food.

“Eat your damn soup already. And take some meds for god’s sake. I grabbed a couple bottles on the way up here.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the tray from him, your fingers lightly brushing against his hands. He stiffened slightly at the contact, but made no comment. Instead, he quietly observed you taking a sip of the warm soup. He refused to tell you, but you could tell this wasn’t something that had been served for dinner. He had to have made this himself.

For you…

“Thanks, Levi. I guess I could maybe use the help.” You smiled at him, scooting a little closer to where he sat.

“Yeah no shit, now eat.” He didn’t move away from you. Instead, he discreetly moved a little closer.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to ask for help from time to time, you supposed. Especially if being sick meant you got to spend some time with your favorite Captain…

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 4 months

Text

How to Find a Werewolf (a week before the full moon)

The title will probably change lmfao

7 days

Sirius notices the signs from the moment Remus is awake. He's flinching every single time a fork hits a plate in the wrong way, for starters. Sirius ends up gently kicking both James and Peter, forcing them to catch on. It's clearly much too loud in the hall itself, Remus is barely contributing. Not for lack of trying, but he seems more than a little dissociated.

Then it's the walking.

As much as he's trying to hide it, the slight exhales that come with every step is enough to show Sirius that he's in pain. The hip's usually the first of his joints to start acting up, so Sirius wordlessly starts picking up and shoving Remus' textbooks into his own bag. Thankfully, Remus isn't ready to bicker about that.

No, it's much too early for that.

5 days

It's two in the morning when Sirius notices.

He's a light sleeper, so Remus' tossing and turning is more than enough to wake him up.

For a moment he just observes carefully. He knows full well that Remus is going to be exhausted, and the fact that he's still up means his skin must be crawling.

"Moons?" He says softly, and Remus stops in his tracks.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Nah, s'fine," Sirius waves him off easily. "We can go sit by the window, if you want?"

For a moment, he thinks Remus is going to say no and resign to a sleepless night, but instead he just sighs.

"...yeah. If that's okay."

Sirius is already sliding out of their bed, glancing at James and Peter to make sure they're still asleep. Then, he reaches out and offers Remus his hand. Remus takes it, letting himself be led to the big window. The windowsill was charmed years ago. Initially it was to fit the four of them, but four seventh years can't fit on it even when it's been extended. Two, though? It's absolutely perfect.

That's how the two of them end up sitting together on the sill, Sirius wedging the window open slightly and letting the cool air hit them both. He can see the way Remus relaxes as he starts to cool down, eyes sliding shut. He leans his head back against the wall, and Sirius smiles to himself as Remus finally starts to fall asleep.

3 days

It doesn't take long for the anger to hit.

Remus isn't what people expect when they think of a werewolf before the full moon. He doesn't have all consuming, blinding rage. There's no world where Remus Lupin will turn and start screaming at teachers.

Instead, it usually starts pretty suppressed.

At breakfast, he sees Remus' hand tighten around his goblet the moment Snape strolls past, making another snide comment about the moon. It's enough for Sirius to make a mental note not to push anything too far. Bickering can turn into real fighting and hurt feelings much too quickly around the full.

James, however, hasn't caught onto the timeline the way Sirius has.

They can all see Remus fighting his own tiredness in the common room, quill in hand as he absentmindedly tries to do his homework. Remus' handwriting is shit at the best of times, but before the full? It's barely legible.

Sirius' solution is to walk over and sit beside Remus, not saying a word and just making sure Remus knows he has support.

"Moony, you might need to take a break," James says softly, and Sirius almost sighs.

Poor bugger.

"I'm fine," Remus starts, and Sirius feels him tense up beside him. He tries to shoot James a glance that essentially means 'stop fucking talking', but he doesn't get the hint.

"Minnie's offered you an extention. It's probably best to wait until you feel better."

"Christ, I said I was fine! Get off my fucking back!" He snaps, James lapsing into silence.

Okay, it's hit him too.

Sirius tries to wrap an arm around Remus' shoulder, but he's shaken off like it's nothing, Remus standing. He winces as he does it, and Sirius forces himself to take a breath, not get too het up about that.

"You all just need to fuck off! You're all so bloody clingy!"

With that, he's gone. He turns and walks upstairs, and Sirius just shrugs at James.

"Give him a day, it'll be fine."

1 day

Remus doesn't get out of bed the day before.

Sometimes he does, but recently his good days before the moon are getting fewer and further between. The only reason Sirius actually bothers to go to his morning classes is to take notes for Remus, and he makes Pete promise to get Remus' notes for his last few.

That sorted, he heads up to the dorm, a hot chocolate he got from the kitchen in hand. Knocking once, he pushes the door open to find the curtains drawn in the room, the whole dorm flooded in darkness.

"Moony?"

For a moment, he thinks he's asleep, until-

"M'fine." His voice is rough, sounds almost like he's been crying.

Yeah, this is definitely one of the bad ones.

He steps into the room, letting the door shut behind him as he gets to Remus' bed. At first, he sits on the edge of it, Remus not moving.

"I've got hot chocolate?" He tries.

"...could you put it on the bedside table?" Sirius nods, setting it down.

"D'you need anything?" He asks gently. Not that he needs to ask, he knows what the answer is going to be.

"If you- maybe you could... stay?"

He doesn't waste a moment in climbing into the bed with his partner and wrapping his arms around Remus' waist from behind.

"Sorry I was such a twat before," Remus says quietly, and Sirius smiles to himself.

"Don't worry about it."

To be fair, his body is literally getting ready to break itself. In what world is he going to have boundless excitable energy?

Sirius just wants to take care of him.

"I love you," He says softly, shifting his weight to reach up and press a kiss to Remus' temple.

"I love you too."

#i've been writing a fuckton of hogwarts or war shit #canon compliant and all that #i'm not sure why #but i'm kind of living for it #i miss my muggle aus though #expect at least one of those soon #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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danibee33 · 1 month

Text

The Queen’s Guard - Chapter 6: Promise

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

word count: 2.5k

[<<< chapter 5]

For the first time, in longer than you can remember, you don’t dread the morning sun. You watch it crest the horizon, feel its warmth radiate on your skin, bask in its dewey light- bathing you in a delightful glow.

And it feels so surreal, like you’re surely doomed to wake from this dream, like the strong arms that had held you so tightly, and the lips that kissed yours so passionately, were only figments of your imagination. Yet, when you reach out, your fingers graze over the very real, and very smooth, cold, dark surface of Simon’s helmet still sitting on your bedside table; unmoved since he had retrieved it from the balcony hours ago-

“It’s real, My Queen..” You suck in a breath at the thick rasp of Simon’s voice in your ear, earning you a sweet chuckle, the arm around your waist pulling you closer so he can bury his nose into the soft hair at the nape of your neck, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

A deep sigh parts your lips at the way he feels, how solid and hot his body is wrapped around yours, his breath sneaking beneath the collar of your nightgown,

“Tell me,” You say, wriggling yourself even further against him, “can you read minds, Ser Simon?”

Your question riles a deep and genuine laugh from him this time, though he does his best to keep it quiet, only for your ears, and hopefully none that dare to pry-

“Why?” He asks, gently tugging you to turn over, “Somethin’ up here you wouldn’t want me to know?”

Smiles pull at both your lips when he taps your temple with the pad of his finger, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen something as glorious as Simon’s dimpled smirk- Gods, why would he ever hide under that helmet.. it’s a fleeting thought, but one you hope to learn the answer to eventually. Hm, eventually, when is that? How much time do you really have with him? What could possibly-

“Hey..” His calloused palm settles over your cheek, thumb tracing a soft, back and forth pattern, his eyes narrowed in concern, “What is it? I lost you..”

Such a simple question, and such a simple statement, but they feel incomprehensible. That you could have given your life to man for years, and he still knows nothing of you, thinks nothing of you- but Simon, who has only been with you for a handful of months, has somehow learned you, maybe even better than you know yourself.

You rest your palm over his hand, unsure of what to say, or where it could possibly go; his promise ringing in your ears, reverberating through your marrow and bones-

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”

“If we leave.. Where will we go?”

“When we leave..” His voice is steady and hardly above a whisper, the tip of his nose grazing over yours, “We’ll go wherever you like. The coast, inland, mountains, and forests- we’ll see it all.”

“But.. Simon- the King..”

So, so sweetly, you feel him pull your head forward just enough to crush his lips against yours- effectively silencing all your relentless thoughts, even if only for this glorious moment. Because it’s so easy to be consumed in him, in his power and his gentility, his brutish strength and the way he holds you as if you were made of the most precious and rare element he knew. And once again, you feel your body giving in to him- feel the tightness gather in your belly, and the ache grow between your legs. You want him, in every way that a woman can want a man- but all too soon, he’s pulling away again, his forehead pressing against yours,

“I will deal with the King, sweet girl.” He studies you, biting harshly at his bottom lip before glancing behind you towards the sunrise, “I have to dress- your hand maid will be here soon.”

You know you should let go of him, but it feels like you only just got him- and your stubborn heart wins against the logic of your mind as you lean into him again, kissing him with a little more urgency, a fervor behind your actions that he gives into, but only for a moment. He holds you back, eyes clenched shut in a silent battle all his own,

“Little Queen, you might think me a better man than I am..” He practically groans out the words, reaching down to hitch your thigh up over his hip, pushing his pelvis forward so that his want and arousal are made quite evident to you, “But, I beg of you, not here.. Not yet.”

There’s nothing in his words or his tone that could lead you to believe he doesn’t want all the same things you do, nothing about the hard length that presses against your cunt that could possibly make you believe he isn’t holding on by the thinnest of threads, trying his damnedest to be good to you- so that you’ll never, ever think that he simply wants your body and nothing else.

“Ok, Simon..” You nod, letting him press one more kiss to your lips, one so full of pining and longing, that it threatens to steal the air from your lungs as you reluctantly relent your hold on him so that you both could sit up, a little breathless and out of sorts.

But even though you’ve parted, it doesn’t stop him from planting a few more chaste kisses over your jaw and cheekbone before tearing himself away, allowing you to watch as he moves across the room. Seeing him only in his thin base layers is enough to raise your heart rate, remembering how you helped him shed his bulky armor last night- and now, you watch ardently as he picks it up and puts it back on, piece by piece- the thick muscles of his back and shoulders rippling and flexing with every practiced movement.

And, far quicker than you like, he’s sauntering towards your side of the bed, where you’ve sat so entranced by him- seeing him once more covered by the heavy steel plates, the ones that only make him larger than life, that make his already broad frame almost unnaturally bigger, his pitch black cloak billowing behind him,

“I’ll assume my post like always,” Simon says with a low tone, taking your bare hand in his gloved one just so he can place a gentlemanly kiss to the soft, pale skin, grabbing his helmet when he lets go.

You stand, looking up at him- committing every wonderful feature and flaw to memory before it’s covered again,

“And I’ll have a raven sent to Clan MacTavish, he can help us-”

But Simon shifts on his feet, your hand still engulfed by his own, “Are you sure, My Queen?”

And you can see the way his dark brows furrow behind the helmet, he doesn’t trust Johnny, but you can understand his apprehension- he doesn’t know the Scot like you do, and if what you think is going to happen, there can be no loose ends in what’s to come.

“Yes, I’m sure. There’s not a soul that we could trust more, Simon. I promise.”

This time, it’s you who lifts his hand to your lips, kissing the black leather as if to seal your own words- something a proper queen should never do, but the warmth that spreads through you when you see his eyes widen slightly makes you want to do it again and again.

He gives you a nod, not allowing himself the chance to waste anymore time, because gods know he would never leave you if given the option- but he must. There is much to plan, much to do, too many seeds of doubt to sow in far too short a time.

Johnny’s POV——

Work. That’s what it feels like for Johnny to come home. There’s no rest for the weary, no, not at the MacTavish estate, they’d never dream of allowing such a luxury-

Buncha fuckin’ dobbers they can be.. I swear.

Yet, he greets them all the same. Giving his Da a stiff, one-armed hug, exchanging the traditional three harsh pats to the back before moving down the path towards his childhood home.

“You’ll tell us about yer visit to court, won’t ye, Johnny?”

A warm smile spreads over his face as he looks down at his youngest sister, throwing an arm lazily over her shoulder,

“Well, hi to you, too, El..” Johnny teases, ruffling her dark brown curls playfully, “I’ll give ye all the juicy gossip tomorrow- after we get some shut eye, eh?” he says, nodding at the maid as they cross the grand threshold, “And I wan’ tae hear about this new constellation ye’ve discovered, my wee little genius!”

Elsie giggles and tries to escape his hold, going on about him being a numpty- all smiles and laughter until the most senior Lord MacTavish blows out a loud scoff,

“Enough o’ that, you two. Elsie, go on, need tae talk tae yer brother.”

She shies away almost too quickly, and it makes his stomach turn, seeing the flash of fear in her eyes as she gives his side one more weak squeeze before flitting off up the stairs-

“Been a long few days, Da. ‘M right ready for a bed-“

The door to the Lord’s study slams shut, cerulean eyes pinning Johnny down in an instant,

“I dinnae give two shites ‘bout how long it’s been, son. I told ya, if you were comin’ back here, ye’d better have a wife in tow.”

Johnny rolls his eyes- big mistake.

His father is a big man, and he’s never had an issue using his size against the lot of them- Johnny being the eldest, all the way down the line, and even their Ma, gods rest her soul.

Which is how he ends up with his back shoved against the closest wall,

“Mind yer fuckin’ attitude with me, boy.” He spits the words, making sure Johnny knows just how little he still in his father’s eyes, “Ye think yer someone big and important out there, huh? Think the army made ye tough, gave ye a big heid, that it? Well, dinnae forget who-“

But, see, Johnny isn’t that little boy anymore, he isn’t that frightened little teenager constantly in fear of the good Lord MacTavish’s thumb crushing him under its weight. His time in the army has treated him well, in fact. He’s bigger, taller, stronger, and faster- and too much time spent on the front lines has made his skin thick and calloused.

With a deep snarl, Johnny is quick to grab the older man by his collar and reverse their positions before he even knows what’s happening,

“Tha’s not how this works anymore, m’lord.”

If Johnny could sketch the shock and surprise in his father’s eyes, he would- hells, he might, because it’s a beautiful sight. One he thinks he’ll remember for a long, long time to come-

“And if I hear one more cross word out of yer filthy fuckin’ mouth, I’ll cut yer tongue out m’self. Is that clear?”

Matching blue eyes stay locked in a silent battle, young and old, a battle as old as times itself, father and son going head to head, a true fight for dominance.

The old lord’s lips curls in anger and disdain, his breath hot and laden with the thick scent of Scotch,

“Ah..” he coos, a chuckle bubbling from his barreled chest, “Aren’t ye a big hotshot, spent time with the little traitorous Scottish queen herself and suddenly yer invincible, that it?”

Johnny growls right back, pulling his father forward before slamming him against the solid wood even harder, “What? And yer still mad it wasn’t one of yer daughters, huh?”

The lord struggles against his hold, but turns out, the boorish old man isn’t all that strong anymore- at least not stronger than his son, which only enrages him more,

“I’m only here to settle my inheritance, ye insufferable old bastard. We’ll talk tomorrow, when ye think ye can speak to me like an equal-“

Johnny lowers his tone to something heavier, his voice dripping with malice, “and there will be none of this, ye won’t put yer hands on me, and I willnae put mine on you. Aye?”

A long silence stretches across the space between them, a heated pause, one that threatens to explode on a hair trigger- and maybe, it’s not actually that long, maybe it’s really only a few seconds, glaring daggers into his own father’s eyes before the old man gives a hateful, “Aye.”, in return.

And if Johnny just so happens to shove the self-righteous old cunt into the wall one more time for good measure, well- that’s between him and the gods he chooses to answer to. But, fuck all if it didn’t feel good to do it.

——

When he finally gets to his room, it’s a disparaging sight- dusty and stale, not a thing changed since he left years ago. And he wishes so badly to feel peace, to feel warmth and love in the place that he should feel all those things and more- in the place he did feel all those things when Ma was still alive.

Yet, it’s just sad and cold now, just how it was when he left. But, a smile does tug at his lips when he unlatches the case Sunny had sent home with him, packed to the brim with treats and fine fabrics and leathers. Some for him and each of his sisters, and an abundance of spares that would last them for a long while-

“Yer too good to us, Grianach..” he mumbles, popping a delightful, citrusy sweet in his mouth as he continues to unpack.

And it takes a while, but eventually he pulls a lone envelope from under a primly wrapped hunting vest, one of the finest he’s ever laid his hands on- the dark brown leather soft as butter in his fingers as he lays it to the side with care.

The bone white paper is thick and stiff, royal stationary that he knows well from letters and messages he’s gotten from her before; the edge sealed with a deep green wax crest- the king’s crest. It brings a disgusted grimace to his face, thinking of the last days with her, the terrible, mottled bruises on her skin- it makes him ill to his stomach to remember.

But, with a deep sigh, he gently pulls the seal apart- recognizing her handwriting right away- though, the farther he reads, the more his guts twist and wrench, the harder his heart beats and the less air it feels like he can suck into his seizing lungs-

No.. no, no, no. This isn’t right, it can’t be- not you, not my Sunny. How could you not tell me? Why didn’t you tell me how much pain you were in-

My dearest Johnny,

I pray this letter finds you well, cousin. And, I pray for your understanding in what I feel I must do, not only for myself, but more importantly, for you. Though.. I do not think you will see it that way, and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry, Johnny. You’ve been my best friend since my first memories, never letting me forget that you’re one month and one day older than me, or that you learned to ride a horse first- remember sneaking out to the stables? I thought Mother would kill us both when you brought me back home covered in scrapes and muck. Oh, I miss the simplicity of those days, I miss it so much it hurts. That life I had for just a moment, where I was free and untethered- or well, I thought I was. And, I suppose, perception is what really matters, isn’t it?

That is what I’ve been taught my whole life, afterall, perception is key. That I must be at my best, presented in a pretty, pretty package- pleasing to the eye and well groomed enough so that the masses may never know the chaos that lies beneath the silks and jewels.

Well, my sweet Johnny, no more. I won’t do it, I will not be scruffed by the neck any longer, I will not live as a possession, an item, an object that only exists to be pretty and used. I am more than that, and I pray.. I pray you forgive me, I pray you are not disappointed, I pray that you remember me only as I was, and not what I have become. Remember me covered in scrapes and muck with a broad smile on my face and joy in my heart. That is the real me, not this fallacy that everyone thinks they know.

I have a trusted courier at the ready, the few earthly possessions I own that mean anything to me are to be delivered to the estate. They are yours. We always shared everything anyway, no need in changing that now. Be well, cousin.

All my love, your Sunny.

[chapter 7>>>]

taglist: @spxctorsslxt

#call of duty #but make it medieval #medieval au #knight!ghost #queen!reader #simon ghost riley #cod fandom #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #lord mactavish #are you kidding me #also on ao3 #simon riley x reader #maybe a throuple?#slow burn #eventual smut #i promise #it’s coming #🫢🫢🫢

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mybutcheredtongue · 3 months

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (see full series here)

1993

The school year draws to a close, with the school still chattering away about Sirius. You spend it relatively simply, teaching the last of your classes and then finally handing out end-of-year exam results. You're glad to see Hermione gets an almost perfect score — and Ron and Harry do...well, they do okay. You make a mental note to start buckling down on their incessant chatting during class.

You also spend it full of worries. Your every waking moment seems to be consumed with thoughts about Sirius. He's out there, all alone, on the run — you can't imagine how he's feeling right now. It ties knots in your stomach. You just want to grab and hold him, caress his soft, smooth skin, run your hands through his silky curls —

You miss him.

You sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express, flicking through the latest edition of The Quibbler. It's quite a unique little publication, very quirky. Luna Lovegood, one of your second years — her dad is the editor, so you decided to pick up the magazine after she recommended it to you once.

You're currently skim-reading a very in-depth article about some sort of creature called an 'epippinpor', when the door to your compartment slides open and Harry pokes his head inside.

"Harry!" you greet. "Need something?"

He holds out a folded piece of parchment, smiling. "Padfoot."

You take the parchment from him as he leaves, closing the door again. You beam excitedly, throwing down The Quibbler and pulling the parchment into your lap. Dubh gets up and starts to sniff the parchment curiously and you giggle, full of giddiness like you're a young teenager again.

My darling love,

I hope you get this before you've left Hogwarts, otherwise it may be quite some time before this letter reaches you. I decided to put your letter in with Harry's, because I'm sure your post is being monitored.

Buckbeak and I are in hiding, so you don't need to worry. I have so many questions to ask you, so many things to tell...I guess they'll just have to wait. I miss you, my love, just like you miss the stars during the daytime.

I hope I haven't lost my romantic flair.

Also, you're a professor now? Very professional, Professor Black. I suppose it does have a pretty sweet ring to it. And Astronomy, too? I'm still your favourite star, right?

You snort, rolling your eyes. Typical. You can just imagine his face when he wrote that: signature smirk, maybe a wink.

Can I get a kiss for that when we reunite again?

Typical!

I wish I could be with you this summer. At our home. Also...do you have a cat? I thought I saw you with a cat. Come on, love, we are obviously a dog home!

I miss you so much. I miss your voice, your warmth, your beautiful face, your kisses. Especially the last one. It's not easy to go twelve years without a single kiss...even if the Dementors offered me several. I love you with all of my heart. If you need me for anything, Harry's owl will find me. All my love, Sirius. P.S. I love you. I can't wait to see you again.

You smile at the letter, eyes tracing the edges of his scratchy handwriting. Your stomach is full of fluttering butterflies and it really does feel like you're a schoolgirl again. You re-read the letter several times, smiling especially wide when he says he loves you or compliments you.

No, Sirius. You didn't lose your romantic flair. Not one bit.

You reach out to pet Dubh, still holding the letter in your hand.

Maybe next year will be a little different.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"Here you go," you say, handing Remus his cup of tea. He accepts it, careful not to spill a drop, and gives you a grateful smile.

"Thanks."

"So, any news?" You ask, pulling your legs up onto the couch and folding them in beside you as you look at the man in front of you. You're sitting in your living room, a wonderfully cosy little room, warmed by soft rays of August sunshine. There's green plants dotted around, and the walls have photos and beautiful paintings decorating it. There's even a few of Remus' original paintings up there!

One big hobby of Remus' is painting, though he is very secretive about it. He paints beautiful landscapes and still-lifes...it calms him.

One particular painting catches your eye. You had once asked him to paint you a nice, simple picture of pottery. A jug, a bowl, a plate...just general pottery works. It's quite nice.

Remus shrugs. "Nothing really since last we spoke. How are your parents?"

You stayed with your parents last week. Dubh had been put into Remus' care, as she always is, and she always comes back a little fatter than before because Remus is a big softie.

"They're grand, yeah," you reply with a shrug. "I told them everything that happened and honestly they were pretty nonchalant about it all, you know how they are...Mam thought I was very stressed and made me one of her special herbal teas and honestly, it was amazing. Felt young again."

"You are young," Remus says with a sigh.

"Sure don't feel it," you say bitterly. "Could do with a dose of that special tea every morning."

"So this tea isn't special?" Remus asks, gesturing to the cup in his hand.

"Not at all," you reply with a short chuckle. "I asked her what she puts in it, and she said it was an 'age-old secret only passed down when the last generation has ceased and the next lives on'. She's lying, of course, she's only saying that to be mysterious. I'm beginning to think that it's just the placebo effect."

Remus nods thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to trust your mother's words and say it is an age-old secret."

"Suck up."

He raises his mug and gives you a mocking smile. You sigh.

"And," you continue, "Dad took me to the muggle cinema, and we seen this film called 'Mrs Doubtfire'. Moony, when I tell you I sobbed — Merlin, muggles sure know how to make an emotional impact. I'm beginning to think that truly, wizards aren't better than muggles because they get to have cool films and we don't. It's unfair, really, if you think about it."

"'Mrs Doubtfire'? What was it about?" Remus asks.

"A woman called Mrs Doubtfire, obviously," you say and he rolls his eyes. "But turns out it's not actually a woman, it's this guy whose wife divorced him and can barely see his kids, so he pretends to be their babysitter and puts on a wig and a mask and fake tits and everything — "

"And that made you cry?"

"It was emotional! Then he gets caught and can only see the kids with someone supervising the visits! Isn't that sad, Moony? It's much sadder in the movie."

He raises his eyebrows, humming in weak agreement. "Right."

You scoff, sighing. "Anyway...Quidditch World Cup is coming up! And guess who's going?"

"You? No way, how did you get tickets?" Remus asks in shock.

You grin. "Minerva McGonagall, the gem that she is! Sent me a letter yesterday morning. Said she happened upon two tickets and asked me to go with her."

"I didn't know the two of you were such good friends."

You shrug. "Sometimes it can be a bit odd because she used to be my teacher, y'know — but she's such fun to be around. I mean, I've told you before that we have tea together sometimes."

He nods thoughtfully. "Mhm, yes, I remember."

"Anyway, I'm really looking forward to it! I wish I could bring you with me," you say with a small apologetic smile.

Remus waves you off. "It's a full moon. I daresay I might steal the spotlight off the teams if I attend."

You laugh. "That may be so."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

sorry for the extra-short chapter...just wanted to draw this year to a close. Goblet of fire next!!!

as always, a big thank you to my taglist loves for all their amazing kindness and support:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem

#sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic #the marauders #hp #marauders

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muniimyg · 10 months

Text

+ extra ! in our forever

series m.list

note: omg hiii ??? helloo ??? okok this was supposed to be posted for yoongi’s birthday... then i planned it to be written in time for my birthday/bts birthday... now it’s being posted mid summer.... like hello? where did the time go? i felt so stuck writing this extra because it feels more like the ending than the actual ending ? does that make sense lol... i planned to write their first kiss scene but honestly i don’t think i’ll be able to do so [unless i get the random urge to write it instead of studying for a final or smt] ! hoping to back more regularly when my work schedule stops being a bitch <3 slowly but surely,, my fics will continue to be deleted off my notes/drafts and pushed out frfr. thank u all of ur patience ,, i TRULY miss u all... laughing with u guys after every update literally gave me a reason to wake up and have smt to look forward to. i look forward to all of ur love and support for my upcoming / ongoing works.

muwah muwah ,, kimi 💛✨🥂

ps… it’s lengthy y’all 💀 it’s to make up for being so mia HAHHAAA

warnings: smut & angst ,, MY FAVE DUO <3

taglist requests are closed !

taglist: @j3nnie101 @tarahardcore @bbsantc @jeonqkooks-main @whoa-jo @ellesalazar @exhibitachol @pamzn @floweryjeons @boraength @4ksj @joonsjuice @taegijns @avtrns @taegix94 @bloopkook @jihopesjoint @firesighgirl @vantxx95 @damn-u-min-yoongi @yoongukie-ff @hopeworldjimin @thisisaburnphone @pb-n-juju @xjiminsthighsx @miss-rainy-days @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase @whitefoxgirl @slutforheeseung @lovelytaes-blog

In the midst of the airport chaos, Yoongi finds you standing with a stupid sign that looks like it was decorated by your preschool students.

It’s times like these when he can’t help but smile at how insufferable you are. Why are you so fucking cute? Standing there, looking for him in the sea of strangers with your warm greeting. It’s a sight he wishes to last forever. It makes his stomach turn knowing that it’s him you’re waiting for. It’s him you’re here for.

It’s him.

As usual, Yoongi finds you first and continues to let you look for him. He waits for your eyes to find his before he picks up his feet and makes his way to you. You smile, unable to hold yourself back from making your way to him as well.

As you do so, Yoongi gets a closer and closer look at the sign. At that moment, his heart skips a beat, realizing that your preschool class knows about him.

The boyfriend.

It’s such a simple label. It even sounds silly to say and even so; he never gets used to how it makes him feel. How excited he is to be yours and how others react to it... Something about little children running around the classroom, knowing their teacher ____ is loved and has a boyfriend makes him so happy.

God, it’s so fucking embarrassing and it honestly doesn’t even matter... But why... Why was it consuming his mind so effortlessly?

Though these thoughts and daydreams are so easily executed in his mind; being your boyfriend—the mere title of it—has him in shambles. He will never get used to this privilege. So, it’s only natural that he wonders if you talk about him to them just as much. He wonders if they’ve asked you any silly questions like... If you two have ever kissed or if you two were ever going to get married.. Better yet; if you have any babies with him...

All valid questions 3 year old's could ask you! Even more valid questions for your boyfriend to ponder.

You talk about your students so much. Like, it’s a little ridiculous! You talk about them as if they’re yours. With that, the idea of having a family with you is prone to linger in his mind. However, that’s way down the line..

He’d have to propose to you first; marry you second, and then have children with you. All the while, loving you forever.

These thoughts, though dramatic and honestly a little extensive—consume him. It’s a little strange and overwhelming considering that you two haven’t been together for that long. Not to mention, he had just left for nearly and month.

Yet, isn’t that how you two bloomed anyway? Testing and proving that absence does make the heart grow fonder.

He gulps as he watches you rush to him. You squeal as he picks up his speed and meets you halfway. There, you practically fall into his arms.

Nothing is better than this.

Yoongi has only been away for three weeks, but it feels like it’s been forever. You’re so used to having him by your side and these past three weeks just felt like torture. All the texts and photo updates were simply not enough. If anything, they made missing him even worse.

But that’s all over now.

Now, he’s here. He’s kissing your cheeks and holding you close. He doesn’t think he’ll ever let go.. Why should he?

“I missed you,” Yoongi confesses in a rather whiney matter. It’s as if he wasn’t the one that left for a trip.. You clearly remember asking him if he really had to go. Then, he pouts with eyebrows knitting together. You tilt your head in response. “Ace...”

You snicker at his whine.

“What?”

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Hahahaa! Yoongi, you just arrived—”

His lips crash into yours, kissing you so profoundly that your back arches and melts into his touch. Everyone is probably looking at you two—ever so the dramatic couple.

Oh, whatever.

You missed him too.

The boys are all patiently waiting for Yoongi back in his apartment.

As you unlock the door, Yoongi drags his luggage in. Immediately, he’s greeted with a wave of affectionate yells and shoves. His friends, ever so the gentlemen, push him around so much until they all end up on the floor. Laughing together, you watch them help each other up.

“We’re grown men. Stop embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend,” Yoongi reprimands his friends as he dusts himself off. The guys roll their eyes in response and you even scoff.

“She was late to a game and you cried about it—”

Yoongi corrects his friend with a technicality. “I almost cried.”

“Same shit!” Jungkook laughs at Yoongi’s sad attempt to save face. He then wraps his arms around Yoongi and looks up at him with bambi eyes. “You know.. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Why?”

“Because I was promised cotton candy if I showed up to your welcome home dinner... So where the fuck is it? Give it to me. Now.”

The boys exchange looks with one another. “Jungkook, we actually don’t have any cotton candy tonight... But, don’t you want to be here and spend time with us—”

“Fucking liars!” Jungkook flips everyone off before pushing Yoongi aside and exiting his apartment.

Everyone stands there for a moment, unsure of what just happened.

“Did he really just leave?” Taehyung bursts into laughter.

Before you know it, everyone joins in. Laughing together because Jungkook is so unhinged... Also because you all know Jungkook would be back in (give or take) 20 minutes.

Why?

It’s not like he has other friends that would put up with his dramatic ass.

As expected, Yoongi kicks everyone out.

They all hurry out, leaving a bit of a mess behind. You shake your head as you collect all the dishes and bring them to the sink. Soaking the dirty dishes, you scrape off any extras and set them aside. Meanwhile, Yoongi is in charge of sweeping, mopping, and putting anything Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook played with away.

“How the fuck did Nam Joon manage to leave his sock here?”

“His what?”

“Sock. He left one.”

You throw your head back, laughing and recalling how chaotic tonight was.

“He didn’t even drink that much tonight... I think you drank more than him,” you comment, turning to face Yoongi. He pauses on wiping the table and rolls his eyes at you.

“Nam Joon is lightweight.”

“Yeah?” you challenge him, “what are you?”

“Wanna find out?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Let’s see how sloppy I fuck you tonight.”

You send him a glare, trying your best to mask your amusement. How could he be so unhinged? “Min Yoongi!”

“Yes, Ace?”

“Behave!”

He shrugs at you. “I’ve been behaving.. Don’t believe me? Punish me tonight.”

You gag at his line. He laughs a bit as you make a cringe face at him. “Is that why you wanted me to sleep over?”

“No,” Yoongi slurs. You raise your eyebrows, eyes softening, with a small grin. Yoongi folds; “... okay, fine.”

You chuckle.

“Shut up!” He defends himself.

“I didn’t say anything!” With that, you burst into laughter.

To put into perspective, the idea of sleeping over occurred after a very mature and communicative compromise. The compromise was that Yoongi had won 2 of 3 in an intense rock, paper, scissors game and you (have to because you lost) decided to spend the next week in his apartment. This would be a great time to reconnect and catch up on his trip. Regardless if he called and texted you every day during it; it’s different seeing his face light up as he relives his stories. You love listening to him talk about the things he loves—oddly enough, you’re all he can talk about these days.

Nevertheless, Yoongi tells you about how great his trip with his brother was. Seeing a bunch of NBA games in real life made him feel like he was doing something for his inner child. He talks about how much his brother bickered with him and how their taste in food was exactly the same so every time they went to restaurants; they would argue about who should get the other dish instead of both of them ordering the same meals.

You’re glad he’s back.

Having your friends over tonight was such a good reset and time together. Now, the night concludes with cleaning with the love of your life. Could the simple things in life get any better than this?

Your thoughts are put on pause as you feel Yoongi’s arms wrap around your waist. As you continue to rinse the dishes, he rests his chin on the crook of your neck.

“___,” he murmurs into your skin. You put the last dish on the dishrack before turning your body to be face to face with him. Tilting your head at him, a little confused with the underlying look of seriousness on his face. “Do your preschoolers ever ask about me?”

“Hmm?” you hum, unsure of what he means. “What about you?”

Yoongi purses his lips. “Like.. Do they know I’m your boyfriend? Who they’re making a sign for and shit?”

“Well, to be honest… We’re not really allowed to be talking about our personal life—”

“Bullshit.”

“Language,” you warn him.

He kisses you in apology.

“My bad,” he pouts. “Come on, ___. You’ve talked about me to them, haven’t you?”

You laugh, not quite understanding why he’s suddenly getting so heated about this. Sure, you’ve mentioned him once or twice.. How could you not? You’ve been in love with Yoongi for so long; it’s practically second nature to you. “Why do you care so much?”

Yoongi huffs, letting go of you. In a stiff manner, he shrugs. “I mean… The sign was made by them, right? They must know about me.”

“Umm, sure,” you roll your eyes. It’s not like this was turning into an argument or anything… But it’s just such an odd direction for the conversation to be going. “Aki, they’re a bunch of 3-year-olds. What does it matter if they know about you or not? I just asked them to help me make a sign because I was running out of time—”

“Do they ever ask you about marrying me?”

Your eyes widen.

“What? No!”

Yoongi blinks.

“Do you not want to marry me?” Yoongi crosses his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. His chest tightens as he begins to feel offended. “Why’d you answer like that?”

“Like what?” you slightly panic.

All his words are so new to you. He’s never been this straightforward… Or has he? Have you simply missed how seamless and blunt his words have been because you’ve been so into him? Suddenly, you can’t think straight. Now, you’re really confused.

Was he getting angry?

Was he hurt?

From what? What did you say that’s triggering his reaction? You try to run it back, but it’s too late. Yoongi takes a step back and asks; “do you not want to marry me?”

You’re tongue-tied, unable to answer him.

He scoffs. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“Woah,” you instantly feel offended. “You can’t just bring up marrying me and then call me annoying for needing time to process what you just asked me!”

“Why do you need time to answer it? It’s yes or no. Do you want to marry me or not?”

You glare at him. “Are you proposing?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t need to answer right now… And honestly? You could tone down the intense attitude. We haven’t seen each other in 3 weeks… Why can’t we just have a nice evening together?”

Yoongi sighs, slightly feeling more flustered. He takes a deep breath and surrenders to the feeling of hurt.

“I think I’m gonna crash at Hobi’s tonight.”

“What?” you groan in disbelief. Is he actually serious? “Yoongi, this is your apartment. You won that stupid rock, paper, scissors game and I’m here. I had to switch my shift for tomorrow to be here with you and now what? You’re just going to leave me here?”

… And before Yoongi can think of a proper response to deflate or change the course this moment; he lets his sharp words cut through his lips. “Well, pardon me for not being in the mood to spend the rest of my evening with someone who I thought saw a future with me… Kind of a mood killer, you know? When your girlfriend is practically dating you to break up.”

“I never said—”

“Drop it, ___. It’s whatever.”

Your face softens and you can’t help but tear up. His anger feels sharp and abrupt.

“What now? Did I fuck up again?” Yoongi says coldly.

You shake your head, eyes fluttering the tears away. “No, it’s okay. I know you’re upset.. But it’s Ace, you know? You always call me Ace. I haven’t heard you say my name in a while. It’s like you’re actually mad at me or something..”

Yoongi stays silent.

You never expected this.

A whole week passes by and the most that has happened between you and Yoongi since are pathetic “good morning” and “good night” text messages. You two avoid each other and barely replied in the group chats. You’ve picked up extra shifts and Yoongi has been spending most of his time with the guys, with his brother, or alone. Thank god he warned the guys not to reach out to you regarding the argument.. Yoongi knows he was wrong to get so heated up so quickly… But also, he knows deep down his feelings were valid.

It’s so stupid.

The way he has been handling this entire thing is so fucking lame. He knows it and you know it. You both are acting like such babies—unwilling to communicate and understand each other. To be fair; you two have never reached the part of an argument where it actually made one another upset. This was the first time and it’s honestly the worst fucking thing you two have gone through.

It’s sickening.

It’s painful waiting for his calls and missing his daily updates… Avoiding eye contact and hesitating to hold your hand when you two are around each other. It doesn’t help that you can’t even remember the last time you two kissed and held each other since his arrival home. It has practically been a month since you two have been together together.

Now it all aches.

It hurt him to think that you couldn’t see a future with him when he knows his future is you. It ached so much to see the way your face went blank… Why were you unsure? Has he not given you all the reassurance you need? Has he not been doing enough? Was the 3 for 3 not good enough? … Rather, will he ever be good enough?

All these questions flooded his mind from morning to night. He waits for your reply every day and wonders if he should just swallow his pride and be the first to yield.

This was your first disagreement as a couple and he isn’t too sure how to navigate through it. What is he supposed to do? His past relationships were never as dramatic as this.. Well, truth be told; he didn’t really care about his exes as much as he cares about you. Dramatic or not, the feelings were real and all more of the reason to push forward with begging for forgiveness.

Begging to be yours.

Begging to be loved.

So what now? Does he surprise you with a significant gesture and make a bunch of promises that he knows are half-assed? In a sense, he was still angry. However, Yoongi knows better. His anger can’t be the reason he loses you.. And as we all know; Min Yoongi is a sore loser.

Forever, Yoongi will refuse to lose you.

The mere idea of dating you only for you two to break up… Sickening. He would rather crawl to you than walk away. As this realization hits him, he rushes inside his apartment and then into his room. He should go see you.

Now.

He has to see you now.

Yoongi doesn’t know where you are.

At first, he had a few ideas of where you could be. At your apartment, in the library, or at the pool watching Jungkook’s swim practice.. He runs around campus desperate to find you. In all honesty, the speech he had prepared got lost along the way. As he hurriedly searches for you, the only words that ring are: it doesn’t end here.

We don’t end here.

I love you—

You.

Yoongi sees you sitting on the same bench you pitched three for three. You’re swinging your legs, watching the morning waves crash against the shore. He soaks in the sight of you looking so at peace. He loves how pretty you are from a far.

And then it hits him: he’s so lucky to love you.

It’s truly a privilege to love you because of everything you are. His anger and all the reasons he had gaslit himself into self-sabotaging your love for him—the extension of your beauty… It was so fucking wrong. Maybe he got too comfortable believing that he had you. Maybe he was too mesmerized with the idea of you two lasting forever that he forgot to even fucking ask it.

He was wrong.

He should’ve asked first.

… But that’s the thing about being in love; you have faith. You believe in everything about the person you love. You believe in the good and that the universe sees you well enough to bless you forever. You believe in all the shooting stars and wishful thinking… You believe in forever when you meet the one that makes forever feel like it’s not enough.. But, you’d take it anyway.

Drowning in his thoughts, Yoongi stands still and practically zones out. Meanwhile, from the corner of your eye, you see him. You see him standing there with the most devastated and desperate look on his face. Then, his eyes flicker to you.

Your eyes meet and lock. His are glossy with tears building up. Even from a far, you can tell he has horrible eye bags. Perhaps, he hasn’t been sleeping well at night. Overall, he looks like a mess. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and your favourite white FOG shirt he owns. Even so… He looks restless.

For his sake, you pretend not to see him. You turn back and watch the sea. Sitting in silence, you take deep breaths as you feel him walking toward you. You’re sure he’s here now but you don’t want to say anything.

What could you say?

And it’s weird because you’d expect him to clear his throat and speak.. But he doesn’t. No, he stays silent. Yoongi also doesn’t sit down next to you. Instead, he stands a few feet away and watches the waves kiss the shore.

Never has he ever felt so jealous of the sea.

An hour and a half passed by since Yoongi found you and within this time: he stays silent.

He follows you around, trailing behind you like a fucking loser. His head is bowed down for the most part and he focuses on following your shoes.

You don’t have any classes today so he finds it a little weird that you’re running around doing random shit. You aren’t buying anything or meeting up with anyone.. It just feels like you’re stalling. In a stupid way; he’s thankful you’re doing so.

He doesn’t say anything though.. Why would he? All the words he had prepared got lost as he followed you around.

All of this simply angers you.

The quiet moment shared between you two at the seaside bench was cute but now he’s just being fucking annoying. Is he serious? He blew up a week ago and now he can’t even apologize for leaving you alone that night? For how cold he’s been? For being the worst boyfriend ever?

Oh my god.

It pisses you off so much. For a man that’s such a sore loser; he surely isn’t doing much to win you over.

That’s just it! All men do is lie.

By now, your feet hurt and you’re too annoyed to keep playing whatever game this is. You pick up your pace and turn toward the direction of your apartment.

Yoongi follows.

Your irritated mood begins to cloud your thoughts. You can feel your frustration take over and you just know you can’t do this anymore. The silence, the sad puppy look on his face, and the simple fact that everything between you two just feels so paper thin—no. This is not it. This isn’t want you want.

You pause and turn to him.

He lifts his head and blinks at you slowly. Still, he stays silent. He doesn’t even greet you with a smile.. Nothing. What the fuck? What’s the point of any of this?

The fucking audacity of this man.

“That’s it?”

Yoongi shrugs.

“Coward,” you hiss. Taking a step forward, he follows your lead. You’re close enough to him to reach out and hit his chest with your fist. You don’t do anything. You stay still, just like him. In your head, you’re crying and he’s holding you. In your head, he’s already pouring his heart out and you’re mending everything back together. In your head; Yoongi is fighting for you.

“Do you have anything to say?” you ask desperately. “You can’t do this, you know? You can’t ignore me for a week and then just show up and not say anything. You can’t follow me around like you care when you obviously don’t. What the hell, Yoongi? If it’s over, then just say it. Say it so I can go home and wonder why the fuck the universe gave me you just to lose you because I.. I’m falling apart here—I can’t—I don’t know what’s going on and you just spent like two hours not saying a single word to me. If you have nothing to say then fine! It’s over—I don’t fucking know what’s going on anymore. Do you?”

“Not really,” Yoongi reveals. “I love you.. That’s all I know.”

His hands are on your waist, guiding you through your own apartment.

Yoongi’s kisses have never felt so good. His lips are so addicting—you can’t stop kissing him back. As innocent as the kissing goes; you can’t say the same for his hands. Once on your waist, now slipped in between your panties and your skin.

Your body shivers from his touch.

“Slow down,” you pull away from him; “I’m still mad at you.”

Lies.

“Good,” he snickers deviously, “hate sex sounds really good right now.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I can change that.”

Without warning, Yoongi picks you up and throws you onto your bed. There, you watch him take off his jacket, his shirt, and then just as he’s about to take off his pants; you crawl to him.

“Can I?”

Yoongi fights for his life to stay calm and cool. He succeeds as he lets out two words: “say please.”

In response, you glare at him. “You want me to say please when you’re about to get head—”

No warning.

Yoongi tugs his sweatpants down and grabs a handful of your hair. He shoves his thick cock into your pretty mouth. It shuts you up immediately. The moment you feel his velvety skin in your mouth, you moan at the taste of his precum on your mouth. Yoongi throws his head back from the relief and literal pleasure of your warm mouth wrapped around him. In contrast to his initial action, Yoongi thrusts in gently. His tip hits the back of your throat and you gag—tears triggered. You suck him as he moves back and forth. It makes him weak. How are you so fucking pretty while you do the dirtiest thing? He doesn’t know if he hates himself or not… How could he be doing this to you? At the same time, how could he not?

He’s wanted this for so long. He missed you so fucking much.

“Mhmm,” he moans, “hate me yet?”

He pulls you away from his dick. You grab it with your hands and jerk him off. Tilting your head, you bat your eyes at him. You shake your head at him, “I love you, Aki.”

Yoongi’s heart collapses. With no time to waste, he bends down and kisses you deeply. “I love you too, Ace.”

Just as you’re about to continue, Yoongi shifts you to lie down. Though a little confused, you follow his lead. “Wait, I wasn’t done sucking your—”

“I need you,” Yoongi confesses so sinfully. There’s truth in his voice. The kind that feels urgent and “I need you more than you need me.. Please, ___.”

You nod, fully understanding what he wants.

Laying on your back, you spread your legs for him. He assists you and helps you take off your pants. He tosses them aside before running his thumb on the band of your panties. For a moment, his hands roam around you. He runs his thumb against your heat before pushing them aside to see you bare.

“Just take them off,” you advise him. He rolls his eyes at you.

“I have a thing for your panties, Ace.. Holy shit, give me a fucking minute.” Yoongi hisses his words and it makes you laugh. “Don’t fucking laugh, you cockslut.”

“I’ll stop laughing when you finally fuck me.”

“Be patient.”

You cross your arms at him.

“Aren’t you the one that said you need me—oh my god!” you gasp, feeling yourself begin to throb at the feeling of Yoongi’s spit running down your folds. He smirks at how fast you shut up. Yoongi then takes off your panties entirely and then spreads your legs in front of him.

He jerks himself off a few times before hitting his hard cock against your pussy. Your breath hitches when he does so. “Are you wet enough?” he asks with no intention of waiting for your reply. He uses his thumb and index finger to spread your folds and judges for himself. He then spits again and massages it into your wet pussy. “Better?”

You nod, unable to answer. “Don’t finger me,” you beg. “Just fuck me, okay?”

“You don’t want me to finger you? How about I at least eat you out first—”

“You didn’t let me finish giving you a blowjob!”

Yoongi laughs, “I would’ve fucking nutted so hard in your mouth if I had let you suck it for one more second. Come on, Ace! I love eating you out. I want to make you feel good—”

“You’re not being fair,” you whine. “I want to make you feel good too.”

“You do more than enough—fuck. Wow. Okay. Rude! Don’t be a bitch.”

You took off your top.

Now, he’s distracted by your plump breast. In all honesty, his favourite thing is to watch your boobs bounce when you two fuck. Whether it’s missionary and he’s on top of you; listening to your soft moans and lewd praises or if you were riding him; heavily breathing and concentrating on getting yourself off… He loves it.

He fucking loves it all.

And so be it.

Yoongi gives in. You smile in pure happiness as he gulps and settles himself in between your legs. He pushes himself inside and you moan in relief.

Fucking finally.

It’s been too long.

Yoongi thrusts in and out, completely melting in how good it feels to fuck you raw. He watches intensely as your breast move up and down from his thrusts. He looks at you and your stupid fuck me eyes that have him weak. All he knows is that he’s yours. His entire existence is because of you—because of moments like these where he is completely and utterly yours.

As he fucks you, all he can think about is how much he loves you. How this is what home feels like—how good life actually is. It’s you. Everything good in his life is connected to you. It completely tears him apart.

The more emotional he gets as he processes his feelings, the harder he fucks you. Soon, you’re moaning like never before. He fucks you so good that the bed practically shakes and your entire world begins to spin. He sits up more and grabs one of your breasts to help himself stabilize. As he continues to fuck you, all you can do is whine his name.

When you reach your climax, you cream all over his cock. He doesn’t stop there though. No, he keeps on going. He keeps on going until he can’t take it anymore and his body collapses and falls on top of yours. There, you wrap your arms and legs around him. Sloppily, he finishes inside you.

“My universe,” he whimpers, “you’re my universe.”

It’s a dewy rainy morning.

Your bedroom window is open and the cloudy sky only makes your empty room feel gloomier.

You woke up naked and alone. After the third round—because you’d be a complete idiot to think that Yoongi would call it a night after one round—you had fallen asleep next to the love of your life.

Where is he now?

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt to wake up alone. Was all of that… Just break up sex? It couldn’t be! In between rounds, you and Yoongi found it in yourselves to make jokes and basically sink into your old vibes… No way did he just leave you.

You gather your sheets and prepare to get up. Just as you’re about to, Yoongi comes out of the washroom. His hair is a little damp and he’s only wearing his sweatpants.

Oh, what a sight.

You squint at him and rub your eyes. “I thought you left.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he laughs, throwing his shirt at you. It lands on top of your head. Taking it, you put it on drop your sheets.

“Can you pass me my panties please?”

Yoongi leans against your bathroom doorframe and shakes his head. “Nah.”

“Don’t be a dick—”

“Round four?”

You laugh. “You haven’t even said sorry yet and you think you can sneak in a forth round?”

Yoongi shrugs at you nonchalantly. “I snuck in three rounds last night… What’s another three? Three for three.” He mocks you.

You stick your tongue out at him.

Silence falls between you two as the sound of gradual raindrops hit your window. You turn your head and watch the rain begin to fall.

“Didn’t know it was going to rain… Isn’t it the middle of summer? Kinda strange, don’t you think—”

“I’m sorry.”

Yoongi folds.

You turn back to him and see he’s on his knees before you. His head, just like yesterday, hangs low.

“I overreacted. I felt like I was losing you. I was so stubborn and defensive that I ended up fighting for my pride rather than us… ___,” he pauses and lifts his head. “I’ve never been in love like this before. I never knew how much my feelings could consume me and how much I want us to work out. I was trying to fight for us. I know my words aren’t much; but I hope asking is enough.. I’ll be better. I’ll be so good to you from now on, I swear… The jealousy and insecurities I have… I’m so messed up sometimes—I know… But I’m trying to be good enough to stay in your orbit.”

“Yoongi—“

“I was trying to pitch forever with you and I didn’t even give you a fair chance to accept or decline—”

“I would’ve said yes,” you interrupt him. “If you had asked properly; the answer is yes. Of course, I’d marry you… In due time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… I’d have to introduce you to my preschoolers first but I’m sure you’ll win them over super fast—”

“Be serious.”

“I am!” you laugh, patting the spot next to you for him to join. He gets up and sits beside you. “I think we were just caught up in the moment. We were separated for a hot minute—I feel like it was just… Miscommunication? We can work on it. We’ll just have to be more patient with one another and maybe not ignore each other for a week?”

Yoongi sighs and nods. “I still feel really shitty about everything.”

“Good,” you tease him as you cup his cheeks with the palm of your hands. He kisses them before resting in your embrace. “Make it up to me someday.”

“... Did you do it?”

“No.”

He stares at the ring box he purchased with his brother during his trip to the States. The engagement ring you had not-so-secretly pinned on your Pinterst board was only available in the States.. Of course, because the universe was on his side; the trip and the ring’s time and location lined up.

“I thought you were going to propose to her when you got back? If that stupid fight didn’t happen, we would’ve been having a different conversation right now. Did you guys even make up?” Yoongi’s brothers voice echoes in the call. “You dragged me to that fucking store and had me pick out details for like twenty rings!”

Yoongi sighs as he closes the ring box and shoves it inside his desk. Truth be told.. He wasn’t planning to propose to you yet. He just wanted the ring ready for when the time comes.

“Someday,” Yoongi promises. “I’ll make it up to her someday in our forever.”

#yoongi fic #yoongi imagine #yoongi one shot #yoongi dating au #bts suga #yoongi scenario #bts imagine #bts fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongi smut #bts smut

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mirukosbitchywife · 1 year

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got a request for some hashira x reader who almost died in battle, made it into bullet point hcs since i'm not too confident in my ability to actually write for all of them minus muichiro, nothing graphic or anything but it does get a bit sad. naturally. i will do a second part with rengoku, uzui(+wives), obanai, and gyomei probably

sanemi

•honestly probably ignores you

•it's nothing against you personally he just seems like the type to pull away from his s/o when he's especially emotional to avoid saying things in the heat of the moment

•the last thing you need after the fight he almost lost you in, was to be greeted by him screaming at you in a worried fueled rage

•would probably write to you though <3 he doesn't want you to think he's abandoned you so for a couple days until he calms down fully he gets someone to deliver you tons of letters, it's easier for him to put down his actual emotions on paper because he can think through what he's saying better

•after a couple days though he's absolutely glued to your side

•(little did you know, while you were recovering in the butterfly mansion he acted as a guard dog at your door, because even when consumed by emotions he refused to leave you completely alone and unable to defend yourself)

mitsuri:

•literally throws herself on you sobbing as soon as you wake up, just to make absolutely sure you're still there with her, you're still alive and warm and breathing even if logically she knows shinobu told her you'd live

•refuses to stop touching you, for at least a week she's constantly touching you in some way, whether it's hand feeding you food, doing your hair for you, bathing you, whatever it is that you need to do she's right there with you attached to your hip, lending a very welcome helping hand

•you better appreciate it bc if you ask for space she Will cry. just accept it.

•annoys the FUCK out of aoi and shinobu when they're trying to care for you but they just huff and roll their eyes but don't say anything to her

•she Might be convinced to leave your side for an hour to collect flowers or wisteria to braid into your hair if you ask nicely

•when you're healed up she throws you a party

giyuu:

•his eyes are Puffy. he Cried. look what you did to him. making him show emotions and shit. don't do that again

•okay but seriously no one has ever seen him this emotional before. as soon as your crow alerted him he was running

•he can't lose another person :(

•you'd probably wake up to him holding your hand sitting next to you, your warmth convincing him you were okay.

•honestly expect a lot of touching within the next couple weeks of recovery. it just assures him.

•is actually the type to give you space to recover if that's what you want but would prefer to be clingy

shinobu:

•you knew you fucked up when you woke up and she was Frowning.

•isn't actually mad or anything, she's upset that she wasn't there to protect you and can't do more for you with medicine than she is already, but it just comes across as anger

•is Literally there with you every step of the way. she is your doctor.

•she subtly tries to convince aoi to let her take care of you alone without actually saying it

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camillescreations · 8 months

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I just need to talk about how much I adore Stede, especially in these new episodes. Yes, he's made mistakes, yes he's flawed, yes he can be a total bitch. But he's, in my eyes, just a really kind and sweet man, who's doing his best. Some of the things he's done have been undesirable, sure, but he is a traumatized and deeply insecure person who is just trying to find his place in the world. He's just trying to find something that makes him happy, that makes him feel fulfilled. Isn't that all anyone is after?

And then he finds that place on his ship with his crew. And Ed finds him and he falls in love for the first time. He meets someone he can share his life with. Someone he can laugh with, that loves him unconditionally and actually openly cares about his silly model ship and two chandeliers and his secret rooms. And that's all he wanted, really, on top of feeling like he belongs. And then he leaves because he feels like that was all in his head, that Ed couldnt possibly be happier with him around. The growth really starts to happen when he resolves the complicated family situation he created and sets out to find the love of his life. He spends the first episodes talking about finding Ed nonstop, taking whatever awful situations he was forced to be in if it meant it would bring him closer to reuniting with him.

Stede has grown so much since last season. He gives Lucius pretty solid advice all while admitting how much he messed up, and he always tries to keep a positive attitude for his crew (family), because he knows their situation sucks and he's trying to make the best of it. Because that's what Stede does, he hopes. And then he FINALLY gets back to the Revenge, only to find it in absolute ruins. His baby is destroyed, and he knows, deep down, who did it. And we know that hurts him. But that doesn't stop him from welcoming Blackbeard's group back with a smile on his face, asking for them to give him a straight answer as to where Ed is, because that's all he's thought about for months.

And then he sees the truth: Ed has been killed by his crew. Ed's body is there, clear as day, hidden away in the bowels of the Revenge. They lied to him. They killed his love, his reason for going back to sea, the person who has consumed his every waking thought, who has been in his dreams every night. Ed is gone; it was all for nothing.

But Stede doesn't scream. He doesn't shut down. He doesn't resort to violence or retaliation against his crew. Even when Izzy directly confronts him, he still doesn't take the bait. No, once he is shown the truth and realizes that there's no more talking it through with Zheng, that his crew will be killed unless something is done, this beautiful man sucks it up and formulates a very solid plan of escape. And he does it on his own!

Even though he knows that he's escaping to the Revenge, his home that won't feel like home anymore because Ed isn't there, he does it anyway, to keep the people he loves safe. Even Izzy, whom he absolutely loathes at this point in time. Stede never let his love for Edward or his grief overtake his love for his crew and his desire to get back the family he once had, all back on his beloved ship.

And it's only after they were all safe that he let himself grieve, going to visit Ed's body and lamenting about how he thinks he messed everything up. And it's such a beautiful moment when he grabs Ed's hand and realizes that his love isn't gone, that he still has hope. Ugh the man is just so wonderful.

I'm so excited to see how Stede grows as a person and a leader this season. He's already shown great strides in his character development. And Rhys Darby's acting is phenomenal. I loved every moment he was on screen. Especially when Stede was in anguish, and his more serious moments. I can't wait to see what the season has in store for my favorite guy!!!

#our flag means death #ofmd #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death season 2 #gentlebeard #stede x ed #edward teach #ofmd spoilers #ofmd 2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #our flag means death 2 spoilers #our flag means death season 2 spoilers

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riseofamoonycake · 1 year

Text

Sooo, I had to. Yes, it was selfcare. Yes, I love it. And it is all for you.

NSFW ALPHABET - RUDRA

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Rudra is the perfect partner for the aftercare, trust my words: he immediately takes you in his arms and cuddles you a lot, asking if everything is okay, if he went too hard and hurt you somehow, if you are fine. He makes you lay on the mattress and covers you with a lot of blankets, then hugs you tightly, strokes the hair and cheeks and cradles you. Also, no angle of your face remains deprived of his lips, he would consume you by the tons of kisses he gives you. He spoils you a lot and loves to do so. If it is still night, he sings a lullaby for you or tells you funny bedtime stories; if it is morning, he cooks breakfast for you and brings it to bed, so you haven’t to do anything. Lay everything to him, he can do it!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His eyes for sure, and his shoulders too. The blush that makes you crimson every time your eyes meet his and they refuse to let you go, and when you run a finger along the edge of them, admired by their length and the tattoos that finish them… yes, he melts without reserve; not to mention when your hands grip around his shoulders and feel them, and you giggle softly as you feel his muscles twitch with your every touch.

He loves your hair terribly. The way it moves with your every movement like sea waves and spreads around you when you sleep, like a crown, literally drives him crazy, even more so when you are on top of him and your locks cover his face like a curtain, and he feels so protected; he doesn’t need protection, but it feels wonderful. He would gladly spend his entire existence stroking, brushing and burying his nose in it, kissing every lock, wave, curl. Oh, and he loves your hips, because when he strokes you here you gasp and start moaning adorably, so it is an invitation for him to tease you more and more.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He doesn’t have any kind of preference in this case, it is all up to you: if you want him to come inside you he does, otherwise he finds another solution. He is so excitable and sensitive that he cums quickly and even abundantly, but fear not, he is immediately ready to spring back into action to make you dream again and again!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes a lot morning sex, really, he can’t help but feel so aroused when the daylight comes and he wakes up just to find you asleep yet, your breath so tranquil and deep, the body abandoned to the dreams, the skin brightening when touched by the first rays of sun and your expression so tender. In these moments he can’t control himself, he has to kiss you all over your face and hug you tightly, press you to his chest and welcome you to the sweetest awakening you have ever imagined. Then, his fingers become wilder and his kisses more passionate and deep, he is needy and he shows it. Prepare yourself to be taken again and again, I can say without doubt that you two make love more in the morning than during the night.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Rudra has had various experiences: in his wanderings he has lived with both humans and deities and has never missed important adventures, whether short or long. He has learned a lot from them, so be prepared to be worshiped and pampered from start to finish, in every way he knows how. He is a soft dom, ask him what you want and he will give it to you: if you want energetic love making bordering on rough, you will get it; if you just want cuddles, all you have to do is say so; if you are kinky, he will give yourself all the perversions you want. The only thing that matters is the pleasure, intimacy and affection that are created with every caress and look, and they certainly won’t miss.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

The position of the Tiger (you lying on your back and him on top, during the sexual act you bend your legs and keep your knees raised leaning them against his body), taken from the Kamasutra. In addition to granting intense sensations, Rudra can lean forward to be as attached to you as possible, hold you tightly and whisper the sweetest words to you while caressing your breasts and neck, amplifying the pleasure in an absurd way. In general, however, all the positions that allow you two to have very strong physical and eye contact are a must with him, because in the end neither of you can help but want to feel the other’s skin rubbing against your own, it is a primary need.

G = Goofy (are they more in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Rudra is not a jester like Shiva, however if he sees you tense and agitated he cracks a joke to make you laugh and calm you down, all while slowly stroking your hair, your cheeks, nape and back, relaxing you. However, one thing that is never missing is his warm and beautiful smile; this most of all will put you at ease, because you can’t resist his sweet expressions, especially when you see all the love that fills his eyes. He is totally gone for you and you can’t help but feel the same.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

They match, deep black hair for our angel! Rudra is well groomed, yes, but to be honest he has little hair in those areas; for the rest he is a fanatic of hygiene, he cares a lot about his own cleanliness and that of others and does not allow anyone to look bad.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Literally a puppy. The sweetest and kindest god you can find. He is embarrassingly romantic: he takes you up a hill, with a breathtaking view of the nature around you, and there he sets everything up for a romantic and very intimate picnic, where you two talk and laugh a lot, lying on the grass and in a sea of flowers. Then, at a certain point his hands squeeze you more strongly and begin to caress you everywhere, his face gets closer and at the slightest caress you give him on his cheeks he goes wild, starting to devour you with kisses while you laugh and writhe under his fingers that roam everywhere. Your clothes don’t stay on you for long, because soon he jumps on top of you and gently slips them off, careful not to let go of your mouth and keep your tongues dancing. What follows next is an endless circle of cuddles, sighs, caresses and the sweetest yet most sensual sex you have ever had.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rudra really likes it, but only if you make it to him. The way your deft fingers dance all over his member, torturing it from tip to base, and how you squeeze it genuinely drives him crazy, not to mention the sadistic grin with which you enjoy the whole situation; so in those moments the god abandons himself on the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows so as not to miss your every action, and begins to moan and squirm, sweating copiously while the rhythm of his breathing quickens and his fiber is put to the test. The more you torment and stimulate him the more he thanks you, it is a hell that he gladly accepts.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

In conjunction with the propensity for morning sex, Rudra has a strong sleep kink. All it takes is the vision of your sleeping body, and the blood starts to boil and he doesn’t understand anything anymore. Before doing anything he will talk to you about the matter; and if you give him permission, then be prepared to fall into all sorts of erotic dreams, because he will stimulate you so much that your mind will translate everything into dreams. So, it will happen that you will wake up terribly needy because he is eating you out, or out of breath because he has been penetrating you deeply for whole minutes, or completely naked and with your chest attacked by his teeth and tongue; but none of this will displease you.

Let’s not forget the nipple play: Rudra is a boob person, his hobby is undoing shirts and bodices or lifting shirts to enjoy your breasts and make you sigh and tremble just by stroking and massaging your turgid nipples, then closing your lips around one of these and start licking and sucking it. Prepare to succumb under his four hands, once he starts he doesn’t stop in a short time. You have been warned.

L = Location (favorite to do the do)

A high place, such as a mountain peak or a promontory above the sea. No matter how many cities and splendid palaces he has seen, in the end his true home is open nature (compatibly with Hindu mythology which sees him associated with animals), so here he can relax completely and be able to give the best of himself. It is not necessary to do it on the grass: even a sheltered place is enough, like a cabin or a small house immersed in the forest or on the slopes of a mountain, and he is happy and ready to make you so too. There is only silence around you, the scent of wood and flowers is intense, no one can disturb you and there are only you two, ready to dedicate yourselves to each other: what more do you want?

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Sensitive as he is, any touch could excite this gentle god; but never as much as the caresses and kisses along the scar on his face. In that case you feel him stiffen completely and clench his fists because the hottest sensations are invading him, to then close his eyes and wait for how things go on: if you decide to insist and, moreover, you start kissing and biting his neck too, another point very sensitive for him, or massaging his shoulders or chest, expect to find yourself pressed to the ground in no time, gripped by all four of his hands, devoured by his feline eyes and hungry mouth. Very well, now he is needy and you have to deal with his hornyness, try not to faint in the process!

Also, being the God of Storms, his libido will probably skyrocket whenever there is a storm or rain pouring heavily on the roof of your house: he instinctively hugs you in a protective way, if he sees you scared for the thunders, then he cradles you by talking softly into your ear, calling you with tender pet names (names of felines, his favorite animals: little lynx, little tiger and so on), and then starts kissing you, keeping your mind busy dedicating himself to your warm body always ready to wrap him, so soft and yielding under his fingers…

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Rudra hates people who are too vulgar, who can’t hold their tongue and make others uncomfortable with how rude and inappropriate they are. So, yes for dirty talking and a more stringent language between you, but he sets limits when he is not in private. Your tongue could lead to various quarrels between you and, in his case, to extinguish any kind of interest in you, until one of the two breaks the relationship because neither of you is willing to give in, and there is hardly any possibility of return.

Among the things that he will certainly never do to you is knife play: since he is not very familiar with blades, be they knives or even small scissors, he does not feel sure he can control the situation and therefore the fear of hurting you and make you bleed would be so high that it would shake all over the body and really end up opening some wound. Do you want to feel pain? Well, his teeth and nails will give you all you want, but please, don’t ask him to play with blades on your body.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Rudra loves both and has no preferences; however he is very, very good at oral. He really loves you as soon as he puts his lips and tongue against your intimacy: his hands blocking your thighs and hips to keep you still; the mouth that covers your genitals with kisses, and then his tongue that dances, touching, poking, teasing, licking; the lips that close around your hottest spots, and meanwhile his eyes that don’t leave yours, following every tear of pleasure that slides down your cheek and catching fire under your gaze; the teeth sinking in and biting or scraping gently, making you wince and elicit a little scream. The God of Storms? Naahhh, in my opinion it is better to say the God of Oral, so great and remarkable are his abilities.

As I said before, however, he also loves receiving: and don’t be afraid to be too wild with him, if you grab his cock and start biting it he won’t reply but will only enjoy, and the same if you want to be nicer. The choice is yours, in any case he would do nothing but lay on the ground or on the blankets and emit all kinds of verses in such a funny and cute voice, writhing and shaking so much that it is natural for you to continue with your work, if that is what you give them. The tip is really sensitive, linger on that and you could knock him out in no time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rudra prefers a middle ground: not too slow but not a mad run either, the ideal is an energetic pace that is not difficult to follow and which at the same time stimulates the whole body, so that the sensations are multiple and the pleasure is strong on both sides. At some point, however, a more sadistic side may also step in, or he is simply very needy and aroused to feel your walls around his penis, and then things heat up and you find yourself pressed hard against the mattress with two of his hands gripping your head or digging into your hips, so you feel like you have a bull between your legs, one that is also bent on depleting your vocal cords. But don’t worry, even in this case he will never hurt you, if or as soon as he realizes that you are in even the slightest pain, he slows down without problems. You couldn’t be in better hands: and there are four of them, so best wishes to escape him, he won’t let you go anywhere.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Rudra is not the quickie type, simply because it is not enough for him: he wants to take all his time to take every part of you and make it his own, so a quickie is not the solution that best suits him. If you ask him and insist, he will hardly accept; and if he does, it will be grudgingly and because you somehow managed to convince him. If you then leave and he still wants you, his frowning gaze will follow you everywhere and for the rest of the day he will be nervous, at least until you return, when you will have to deal with what you left unfinished... oh my, a big storm is coming to get you! Run for your life if you can (you can’t)!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Let me be honest, I think that Rudra will gladly take them, but it is up to you: if you feel like experimenting and trying something extreme he will satisfy you, otherwise that is fine, nothing changes between you. If you accept, he will follow you step by step so that you are comfortable with them, but let him know if you change your mind or something is wrong, he always has time to stop. So be clear and open with him, and tell him everything you want, whether or not you feel like accepting what is being offered to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This big boy has a lot of strength, you better prepare to be destroyed by his ardor, because although gentle and attentive as long as you want, Rudra is almost insatiable and once he has you in his arms you are his prisoner for a long time. As mentioned above, being very sensitive, the rounds are perhaps not very long - even if the duration of each of them is enough to deprive you of a lot of energy - but they are many, truly innumerable: a love making session in which you lose your head and also the sensitivity in every part of you, short pause, and then the sweetest torment you have ever felt begins again, and so on for an almost infinite number of rounds. Every time you touch the threshold of fainting, and every time Rudra will stop before you can cross it, perhaps giving you a good spank or squeezing your nipples hard; catch your breath quickly, and say yes to heaven, you have to start again!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Surprisingly, he has many, all presents or left as gifts from his adventures: for example, he has vibrators or dildos of all kinds, which come from all over the world and which he knows how to use very well, OBVIOUSLY on you because he doesn’t want to be touched by it (but who knows, maybe you can even convince him…). He rarely uses them because the best tool for your pleasure is his own body, but if you ask him to practice on you with them he won’t back down and indeed, it could be a way to further test your skills. Let’s see how long you can last this time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually Rudra is not unfair, on the contrary, it is more probable that it is you who teases him (even if he willingly accepts it and, indeed, he likes being tortured by you). However, if you cross the line or have behaved in a way that he thinks is particularly unfair or wrong towards him, well… the things change a little, and some small, harmless torment falls on your tender flesh: from playing with your intimacy to the point of making you so excited that you pray for his cock, which he won’t give you because you don’t deserve it, to angrily biting all your most sensitive parts without you being able to stop him, to tying you to the bed and bandaging your mouth, to then fill your holes with vibrators that he will operate remotely once he sits on the edge, watching you for hours as you writhe, moan louder and louder and beg for a mercy that you have to earn hard.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The God of Storms is not as loud as you, but he can hardly keep his voice: therefore his mouth escapes deep and long moans and gasps that intertwine with yours, as well as sighs and, sometimes, low gurgles. As the session gets more heated his voice rises in pitch and the words that come out of him are all praise for you, how beautiful you are, perfect and his, all his, doubling the sensations and the thrills; I mean, he might just make you cum with his voice. Fun fact: sometimes he starts speaking in other languages, simple words or phrases that he has learned during his wanderings and for which he blushes deeply, if you ask him the meaning.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Before the love making, Rudra includes a massage session. He knows where to intervene to stretch, relax, loosen and touch so that every stiffness and tension does not resist his fingers, all without making you feel any pain but, on the contrary, giving you a preparatory pleasure for what is to come afterwards. From head to feet (if you can hold it), every corner of you will know the blessing of his cuddles, and it is not uncommon for you to fall asleep while he is rubbing your back and shoulders.

In the same way, if you want to return the favor and give him a massage, he will be happy about it: if you already know how to do it, he will make himself comfortable to receive all your attention, and he won’t fail to respond adequately to the stimuli (remember that being very sensitive he may not last long, especially in certain areas such as shoulders and feet), while if you don’t know how to do it but want to learn, he will teach you calmly and patiently, so as not to cause pain and worse.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Heh heh, as well as Shiva, he has a double pack! And he knows how to use them very well. The first thing that amazes you about the two penises is that they are really, really big, almost disproportionate, wider than long and slightly curved upwards. The lower one is a little smaller than the upper one and has veins on the tip, while the other is perfectly smooth, but the tip is more enlarged.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Rudra has an excellent sex drive, even if sex is not among his very first thoughts his desire is still high and he is easily excitable. It doesn’t take much, even just a slow and well-aimed caress or the thought of you and your beautiful smile, of the way you close your eyes and how they sparkle every time they see him, to turn him on; you don’t help him, on the contrary, because with your way of being so sweet and at the same time provocative you make him so crazy about you, literally your love slave to whom you can do (almost) everything, always questioning who is the top and who is the bottom between the two. Practically by your side you have a puppy and at the same time an indomitable feline.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rudra almost never sleeps, he doesn’t need it until after long periods of time: so he will spend the rest of the night watching you sleep, combing your hair, kissing every inch of skin lightly and giving vent to his sleep kink, without never take your eyes off your face and the serenity with which you sleep. “I love you”, whispers into your ear, licking your lobe and caressing your belly as it prepares to descend towards your intimacy, “I madly love you, my beloved lynx, my great love. You are mine, but I am all yours.”

And then the night flies for him and you, bringing new sweetnesses and caresses.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #snv #snv rudra #rudra record of ragnarok #rudra ror #shuumatsu no valkyrie rudra #rudra x reader

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