#Queen Cherry AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowyolks · 1 year

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HER MAJESTY,

PART TWO OF KING AU (Read Part One Here)

Prompt: King! König x Female Reader

Summary: Your King indulges you on your wedding day. For you are his new wife and queen.

Words: 6.3 k

Warnings: Fingering, Oral (f receiving), Spit, Voyeurism, Public Sex (Bedding Cermony), mentions of running a train, P in V Sex, Cum Eating, Creampie, Slight Breeding Kink. Please note that these are inaccurate scenes of Weddings, Bedding Ceremonies and Coronations.

A/N: Whew! I had to take multiple breaks with this one guys. Please enjoy and tell me what you think! Part Three?

“Pst,”

“Pst!”

Your eyes flickered around the warm halls of the keep, several torches illuminating the corridors as the sun set through the stain glass windows. Still, you could not pinpoint where the calling noise came from.

Your fingers reached for the singular dagger you had secretly hidden against your thigh. Even in your wedding dress, you didn’t like being defenseless, perhaps it was the General in you.

Before you could brush off the odd pestering, a warm hand fell over your mouth, halting and muffling your yelp all in one motion. With a tug, you fell backwards, darkness invading your senses as you scanned the familar room you were pulled in.

An opposite hand held onto your wrist, stopping you from using the dagger clutched between your fingers. You released the weapon once you heard the familiar chuckle of your promised.

“Easy, Maus.”

You whirled around, the sound of your heels echoing in the empty room.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you!” You whispered harshly into the darkness, only the shine of your earrings, the white of your wedding dress and König’s crown glinted against the pitch black.

“I suppose I am… lucky that is,” his words were filled with pride and satisfaction, you imagined his pupils blown out and hungry looking. Like a wolf stalking upon sheep.

“Why’d you pull me in here? I’m supposed to be meeting in the throne room shortly.”

His hands weaved around the middle of your back, pulling you tight against his chest. His form massive and daunting as he enveloped you. He smelt of cherry wine and sage, a combination that made your legs weak.

“It’s the last time I’d see you before you were my wife, I wanted to leave this part of us on a good note, ja?”

You couldn’t help the little smile that flew upon your lips. It’s a word you’d never grow tired of, his wife, the queen.

“Whatever you plan on doing, we don’t have time.” You scolded, although your hands were already betraying you, your palms slowly sliding down his chest, the softness of his cloak like velvet under your skin.

“How do you expect me to simply act as a King when you’re dressed like a Goddess, hm?” He leant forward, his mouth chasing downwards to your own lips, catching them in a mouthwatering kiss.

He pulled away briefly, one of his canines biting harshly upon the flesh of your bottom lip. You whined at the painful sting, relishing in the feeling of arousal building under your dress.

“We don’t have time.” You practically whined, thighs rubbing together almost pathetically.

“I know.” Your King whispered into the dark, the intention in his voice the exact opposite of what he said. His tone was needy, desperate.

Quicker than a flash of lightning, he flipped you, your ass pressed harshly against his growing length in his trousers. His chin pressed down against your collar bone, his body morphing into the unintentional arch of your back. His foot kicked your ankles apart, spreading your legs so he could fit his feet between your hunched over form. You shouldn’t, but you will.

Anything for the king.

König tilted his head, his lips greedily sucking upon your pulse point, quickly you jerked back, eyes narrowed as you looked him in the eyes.

“No marks…” you sounded, you did little to hide the disappointment in your voice, your body yearned to be painted in bruises and lovebites of your King’s doing. But alas, you had a reputation to uphold.

König pouted slightly, a rumbling chuckle vibrating from his chest, the vibrations filtering to your back. “I suppose you’re right.” He kissed your temple, before reaching back to your hips, his fingertips squeezing the soft flesh beneath the white lace.

“We have to be quick.” You sighed in defeat, although this defeat reaped plentiful rewards. Rewards in the form of your monstrous fiancé.

“I agree, although you deserve more than a few moments, I’ll promise you more time later tonight.” He vowed, lips finding the soft flesh of your shoulder again.

You reached behind your back, gently palming upon the hard length of his clothed cock, you heard his shaky exhale, just the same as the first time you held his cock. With a nimble finger you twisted upon his belt and buttons.

König hummed, “Cheeky girl, so eager for my cock.”

“Can’t help it.” You found yourself pouting, even more so when König pulled away to inch his trousers down enough for his cock to spring free. Your mouth watered at the sight in the darkness.

“Don’t have time to warm you up. Think you can take it?” He cooed, his large hand pumping his shaft slightly.

You nodded, already beginning to gather your wedding dress to pool around towards the front, revealing your bare back to him, ravishing in the purr that escaped his body.

His hand reached upwards, palm engulfing upon the whole width of your neck, pulling you impossibly close to his body. His other hand guided his cock against your semi-wet cunt, a teasing dance that had you squirming.

“I need words, darling. Tell me you can handle it?”

You squirmed again at the feeling of his spit falling down between your ass, coating your cunt and his hard length in extra slick. It was enough to make you gasp.

“Yes! I’ll be good, I can handle it.” You pleaded, cheek nearly smacking against the stone wall near your head when he pushed inside your walls in a painful stretch. He groaned at the tightness, just as your vision went black from the stinging pain and fullness you felt when his cock tore into you.

One of his long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you down impossibly deep upon his length, enough to make you squeak pathetically.

“That’s it darling, stay standing for me.” The King whispered in your ear, it was then you noticed just how little feeling you had in your legs, his arm holding majority of your weight. So much so that the tips of your toes were the only thing brushing against the cobblestone floors in each wicked thrust of his hips.

It was pathetic how much you unraveled around him. How each snap of his hips and scorching kiss amongst your neck brought you to oblivion.

It was delightfully sinful, having your soon to be husband ravish you in the innocent white of your wedding dress.

At the rate he was going, you wouldn’t last much longer, he seemed to pinpoint this too. König pressed his thumb to your clit, adding delightful pressure all the while still holding you up.

“Can’t take… much more,” he whined pathetically against your shoulder, getting himself lost in the tightness of your soppy cunt. It was simply enchanting watching such a giant fold to you.

It didn’t take long for you to see stars, hands reaching back to hold onto him as you clenched in preparation, with a few more feral thrusts against your walls you released with a moan, only able to savor the feeling for a moment before König took the liberty of burying into you.

His arms flexed against your middle, pulling you in a vice as he filled you, his panting the only thing that could be heard in the silent room. Warm seed ran down your thighs, making you snap out of the blissed out sensation and focusing on the chiming of wedding bells.

Your own wedding bells.

“Fuck, We’re late!”

It was delightful how easy it was for König to put on a show. While he didn’t necessarily like the attention, he was never shy to show you off, or his kingdom.

The palace was decorated in the most lavish of gems, diamonds and gold. Among with the hundred of white roses and tulips that happened to be your favorite.

He always knew. He always did.

Hundreds upon hundreds of voices chatted through the large doors that would open in a couple of moments. Several civilians, nobles, your knights, and even other kings and queens awaited for this day. A day so incredibly special to you.

A day you’d become the King’s wife.

“Ready?” Your second in command asked from beside you, someone who would stand position to you against all your other knights on your way to the alter.

The knights represented a move of power towards the King. All your ranks and achievements would be flaunted all the while as you wore a white dress.

With a nod of your head, your second in command opened the large oak doors, the swinging of the hinges alerting the people that you were coming, and with a small inhale you began to descend alone, head held high as your searching eyes found your King.

He was there, a small smirk upon his lips as his eyes drank you in. The darkness of his chambers didn’t do him Justice, now in the warm setting sun, shaded by the beautiful gleams of stained glass did he look truly ethereal.

His auburn hair the color of flickering candlelight and warm cider parted for the iron-clad crown proudly displayed on his temples, the crown held no jewels, simply a testament to his power, made strictly of steel.

He was dressed in the colors of his nation, robes of red and white adorned his board shoulders and chiseled chest. His trousers were a dark color, that matched the black sigil illustrated on his cloak.

Your steps were sure, even with the thousands of eyes upon you. Your King’s eyes twinkled as he took you in. His gaze was the only thing you saw.

König reached out, his palm open to you, open to your new union. You took it with greedy hands, a smile upon your lips as you thought of how he was yours. Yours, yours, yours.

The officiants speech were blurred, a messy contraption of words you were too occupied to hear, until a heavy cloth landed upon your shoulders. The familiar black material that smelt like cherry wine and sage covered your dress. It dwarfed in comparison of your body, as most did when it came to the King.

“May your bride be forever under your protection. For she now carries your Sigil and name, for this day until the end of her days.” The officiant’s voice boomed in the silent throne room.

With those words, you turned to König, whose gaze was nothing short of undying affection. While he was a ruthless king in battle, he was also a ruthless lover. Never one to settle for less than perfection.

“Exchange rings.” The officiant ordered.

A small smile crossed your lips, as you pulled the ring out from your awaiting palm. The ring you would present to your King was something you had been pleased to make yourself. A band of gold, heavily intricate with weaving vines, a maze that encircled the entirety. You placed it upon his ring finger in pride, just as he planted an exquisite ring with a beautiful ruby rhinestone. Simple, yet elegant.

Then a ceremonial dagger was placed between your hands, the gold of the shaft glimmered and the hilt felt heavy in your hand.

You knew what to do as König offered his palm out to you. No hesitation in his mind as you gently held his wrist, hand strong and unwavering as you slid the dagger across his palm, a small dribble of blood pooling around the inflicted wound.

His face remained stolid, eyes only twinkling in affection as you passed the dagger to him. You presented your hand to him, just as his gaze bore into you, the crown making him seem even taller than he already was.

The cold metal stung against the crease of your palm, yet you couldn’t break away from his stare as you refused to flinch. Only looking down when the warmth of your blood fell from the wound.

König nodded to the officiant, then back to you. He held his hand out, offering you a permanent bond by his side. Offering you him.

You took his hand without question.

The officiant stepped forward, wrapping a soft ribbon upon your conjoined hands.

“With the bond of blood, man and woman become one, one unit, one nation, one love. I present to you husband and wife.”

The nation wept in happiness, loud applause drowning out from your ears as König bent down, attaching your lips in such a sweet and delicate kiss that it hurt your very heart.

Your Husband. Your King. And soon you’d be his Quee-

“Among with the wedding of your King, he has requested a coronation for his wife.”

Your breathing hitched, you did not think that your coronation would come soon. Maybe a week after your wedding, but now? Not that it mattered too much, you’d had time to gather yourself for your new rule as Queen Mother. Now it was only time to fulfill your promise to König. Your husband.

With a steady hand, König unwrapped the ribbon that created your bond, instead settling to create another one. Husband and Wife. King and Queen.

Your second in command ascended again, holding a velvet piece in his hand, something that protected a crown made of the same iron material that König’s was made of. Yours however was designed thinner, the rungs were taller and slender. A crown of simple elegance.

König nodded towards your captain, taking the crown gently in two hands. His body ascending in front of his people as he faced the crowds. You maneuvered as taught, back towards your people as your eyes fell to the King.

You dropped your knee, falling in front of him as your head tilted up. Awaiting your new position.

“You swear to uphold this Kingdom? Cherish it as one of your own, to protect them, shield them, and bear their burdens?” His deep voice rumbled over the kingdom, almost enough to shake the walls of his keep.

“I do.”

“And do you swear to serve the King? For his council is yours, and your council is his. Do you swear to rule together as one single force?”

“I do.” You vowed, head dropping slightly as your hands shook at your sides.

Fingers traced against your jaw, before a heavy object was placed against your head, the weight of the crown finally sinking in.

“Rise, my love.” His soft voice lured you to stand. To turn towards your people with a look of great pride. With his aid, you stood tall.

König took a step forward, his chest puffed up slightly as his eyes burnt towards his kingdom.

“For all to witness, here is my wife. Long live the Queen!” His voice boomed, just as the crowd chanted the words over and over again.

You gulped when König dropped to a knee, his eyes soft and dark at the same time as he took you in like a Goddess to be worshipped. The chants of “Long live the Queen!” vanishing as you gestured for him to stand beside you once more.

You stood shoulder to shoulder, hands intertwined as the two of you took in your kingdom.

Chatter rang throughout the large dining hall in merry celebration. Your lips were likely stained with the most lavish of cherry wines that König had been saving for this special date.

Now the two of you sat upon a large table overlooking the nobles and councilmen that took turns singing and dancing while feasting upon the layouts of roasted hog, breads, cheeses, and fresh fruits that heaped in surplus.

“You look divine in that dress.” Your husband’s voice broke your concentration away from the flickering lanterns of the hall.

“I bet you want nothing more than to take it off.” You teased lightly, only picking at your food as your gaze looked else where. Towards five approaching men coming to your table. Many had come, but only to lay gifts on the oak table with a gentle bow, these men however waited for König’s concentration to break from you.

Finally, his stare followed yours, settling upon the men that looked to hold shocking power. Perhaps Kings of their own nations?

“Ah, Welcome!” König voice was tight, a teasing notion that you noted. What was he up to?

The men all bowed slightly as they exchanged pleasantries, then their eyes left König and settling on you.

“This is my Wife,” König introduced you by name, just as your lips curled upwards in a greeting.

“Maus, these are the Kings of our bordering nations. I invited them as a hope to become allies”

They all were tall, one being taller than the rest and gloomy looking. He wore all black robes and kept his face covered much like your husband did in battle. His eyes were fiery as he squinted up at you. Carefully he placed a golden necklace next to your table, a gift you supposed.

His companion next to him was the opposite, instead dressed in a Scottish styled kilt and a smirk upon his face. You assumed this was John of Clan MacTavish, who graciously supplied the feast.

Another stepped forward, an impressive beard upon his face as he nodded to König. Before turning to you. “Simon and Johnny spoke of your beauty, I had to see if the rumors were true. They do not disappoint. You may call me Price.” His lit was elegant and precise.

Yet his eyes were nothing of that matter as he raked you up and down.

Another stepped forward, who offered the King pleasantries and you a simple nod. He offered you his blacksmiths who would make you a new sword fit for a general. His eyes never left your plush lips. Gaz he’d called himself.

Finally the last ascended, settling upon a gift of gems of every cut and size. His smirk never left his face as he bluntly disregarded König, instead going to your side.

“You bring every woman to shame with your beauty, cariña.” His lips found your knuckle, just as König cleared his throat in warning. Alejandro he’d called himself.

“I thank you for the gifts.” You muttered, feeling hot at the stares of all the kings. They departed, eyes still glancing at you occasionally from their designated seats.

A warm hand fell to your thigh, making you snap out of your haze and away from the gloomy stare of the king known as Simon. Instead, your attention settled back to König, whose fingers were digging slightly into the flesh of your leg, dancing dangerously close to your core. It made you shutter out a sigh.

“They’re right you know.” Your King’s voice was low as he continued his onslaught from under the table. His other hand holding onto his fork as if he was unbothered. Almost bored.

“Hmm?” You found yourself drunkenly leaning closer to König, just as his fingertip gently traced over your clothed clit. You jolted, alerting the other King’s attention from afar. Subtly you tried to control your flushed face and crossed your legs, smooshing his palm to get him to stop.

“That you’re the most beautiful woman in the kingdoms.” He leant to you, placing an innocent kiss upon your cheek as his warm breath fanned across your ear.

“I don’t care if they stare or compliment you. Hell, I don’t even care if they all take turns fucking your pretty cunt. Just as long as you know who you truly belong to.”

You shuddered at his words, shifting slightly in your chair as you imagined all of those men taking their turns ravishing you. König’s finger hooked along your chin, pulling you to face him.

“You do know who you belong to, right Maus?” He cooed, looking every bit the conquerer that you knew. You gulped, reaching up to twine your fingers.

“You, Your Grace. It’s always you.”

“Good Girl.” He smirked, dropping his hand to your thigh again. A sudden clatter made you jump, just as several councilmen stood up.

“It’s time for the King and Queen to indulge in the bedding ceremony.”

Your eyes skittered to König, who was back to rubbing his thumb amongst your leg. He had a relaxed smile upon his face, just as he stretched like a satisfied cat against his chair. He pushed it backwards, standing tall as he offered you a gentle hand.

You took it, standing tall as you eyed the foreign kings one last time before applause erupted through the hall as König led you down the halls and to his chambers.

Some of the councilmen followed, obviously to witness your matrimony and union as the both of you would try to produce heirs.

You weren’t particularly nervous, it wasn’t something the councilmen hadn’t seen before. Or at the very least heard. But you felt the pressure to please your husband, for this would be the first time you slept together since taking your vows.

Your King pushed open the door, and gestured you in first. Your steps faulted at the sudden transformation of his chambers. Soft candle light painted the walls a warm glow, and the air smelt faintly of summer cherries and scented wax. Petals of white roses scattered across the floor and on his furs, something that almost made your eyes roll in amusement.

König maneuvered past you with a brush of his hand, his touch lingering for a moment before he stepped towards his vanity.

He reached up, pulling the heavy crown from his wavy hair with a sigh. You felt the burning stares of the councilmen as you shuffled closer to König’s side, happily basking in his warmth as he removed his cloak, only left in his slightly unbuttoned under shirt and trousers.

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer into his side as he preoccupied himself with pouring cherry wine into a cup. He took a large drink, before passing the goblet to you.

Your fingers snaked around the cool metal, eyes falling from your lover to the red liquid instead. You sipped upon the bittersweet wine, happily feeling the burning in your chest as König silently turned to face you.

It was much too silent. It made you itch.

His large palms reached upwards, cupping your cheeks in a cradle of security. His fingertips danced against your scalp, nails raking slightly in a calming gesture that you much appreciated.

You placed the goblet down, not sure if you were really supposed to touch him yet. The one thing you’d hadn’t prepared for was the bedding ceremony. You figured it would be König that made the first move, but he did little but relax you into his touch, distant from his warm furs of his bed.

“Are you waiting for me to start us off?” Your tone was soft as he lifted up on your own crown, discarding the steel material next to his as he went back to clutching your cheeks, this time his thumb brushed across the slight pucker of your lips.

He shook his head, a look of adoration crossing his features again. His stormy eyes were swirling lazily, if you looked closely the little freckles upon his cheeks seemed to glow in the candlelight. “No, I’m waiting for the rest of the council.” He admitted, maneuvering his large hands to your waist, flipping you so your back was turned to him and towards the entrance of his door. You avoided the stares of the council, instead focusing on the cinching sensation at your waist. “Everyone is here. Who else are we waiting for?”

König worked quietly, fingers threading through the ties of your corset. Occasionally he would press a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to fly against the contact. You shivered at the intimacy.

“On them.” He whispered against the lobe of your ear, nipping at the flesh. Glancing up, your heart rate picked up at the sight of the five kings from earlier, all eyes upon you and your husband.

König chuckled at your reaction, “if they’re so easy to praise your body with words, I’ll show them how I can praise you with my body and words.” He lowly spoke, so only you could hear. “They’ll speak compliments on their tongues, I’ll taste you with mine.”

Your breath hitched, all of this process was non traditional. Most of the bedding ceremonies in neighboring kingdoms just decided on a quick fuck, never bringing pleasure to the wife. Your husband was never one to follow tradition. He’d make the councilmen squirm as he ravished you with no shame.

The thought made you quiver.

“Shut the door.” Your King ordered, with the click of the hinges, you reveled in the feeling of his touch. His hands had finally tore apart the dreaded corset, his warm hands falling to the curve of your spine, until he dipped to your shoulders, pulling the dress down to your waist.

The air was cold upon your breasts, but the burning stares of the Kings seemed to set you on fire. You maneuvered in a trance, only being guided by your husband, who lowered you down upon the furs of your shared chambers.

He was grinning, obviously enjoying the ongoing attention as he hovered over you. He pulled you into a shuttering kiss, almost humming as you bit upon his lip.

His hands reached low, tugging upon the leftover material of your dress and discarding the white on the edge of the bed. Your eyes found his, he was a storm, the dark pupils nearly engulfing the rolling clouds of grey iris. Your bare legs wrapped around his torso, sinking him down further.

His tongue was hot against your lips, you welcomed him in open arms, loving the taste of the cherry wine leftover from his indulgence.

“So beautiful…” König paused, kissing innocently upon your nose, before shifting backwards and pulling off his shirt.

You bit upon your bottom lip, drinking in his pale skin covered in constellations of freckles. He was built, from all his years of wielding a sword and axe, yet still lean enough to move with great speed and precision.

Enchanting.

He lowered himself upon the furs, obviously enjoying the little hitch in your throat as he blew warm air upon your open and weeping cunt.

Not only were you aroused by the feeling of your King marking you as his, you were squirming at the feeling of eyes taking in your very naked form. Without thinking, your gaze shifted to the dark stare of Simon, who looked on with heavy eyes that were lidded in lust.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you felt the steady pressure of a kiss against the warmth of your inner thighs. König’s sharp canines nipped at the scorching flesh, definitely serving as a reprimand when he observed your wondering eyes.

“Is he holding his cock, Maus? Does he know you’ll only be filled by me tonight?”

You hummed, gaze falling back to your husband, who also looked at you in a hooded stupor, a look that made your insides jelly and your cunt to soak like a broken dam.

He watched you as his biceps entrapped the crease of your knees, prying you open, you faintly heard MacTavish and Gaz curse, for they got a full image of your arousal.

König must of heard, because a ghost of a smirk crossed over his lips before he buried himself against you. The wetness of his tongue against your opening was enough for you to let out an airy noise and drop your head against the silk pillows of his bed. The eyes watching were wiped away from your mind as König’s nose brushed against your aching clit, it was just enough pressure to have you chasing him, hand flying to the soft waves of his tousled auburn hair.

He hummed at your taste, pulling back for air. You could tell he was restraining himself, attempting to stop the vile sayings that would usually slip out of his mouth. You nearly purred when you spotted the slick upon his lips, watching him lick them clean before he dove back for more.

You squirmed as his lips pressed to your clit, sucking upon the bead of nerves in desperation, as if he was starving.

“Oh God…” you moaned softly, attempting to be silent enough for the council not to hear, but your King seemed scoff at that reaction. The cheeky bastard wanted you to scream, to embarrass yourself by squirming and screaming his name.

He was doing a well enough job, a loud moan falling unconsciously from your lips as a thick finger breached your hole, pushing snuggly against your walls.

König cursed at your reaction, still suckling upon your clit in soft slow pressure. Your eyes wandered again, catching on Alejandro, who was obviously glancing at your open breasts, bouncing slightly with each push of your husbands finger.

König looked up, seeing again that your eyes had wandered, with a amused huff he added another finger, this time watching you gasp at the fullness. Yet, it wasn’t just the width that made you cry for air, but the cold metal of his wedding ring pressed against the opening of your sex, the change of temperature sending you over the edge.

He spread his fingers, delightfully stretching your opening, his quick thrusts and licking tongue had you seeing stars. The knot in your stomach twisted and with a rather deep thrust, you whined spilling on his fingers as you rolled your eyes back, reveling in the feeling of a delicious orgasm.

With a sudden burst of need, you maneuvered König up, smiling drunkly when his fingers left your hole with a satisfying squelch, that had Price growling lightly in the corner, making a silent chuckle fall from your lips.

“You like them watching you, don’t you? Like them to see what I do to you, Maus?” König teased, pecking lightly on your lips, you hummed at the taste of yourself.

“What you do to me?” You found yourself becoming bold, likely too bold for a bedding ceremony, but you simply didn’t care as your legs wrapped around his waist, using enough momentum to flip your husband on his back. He looked far to irresistible under your mercy.

And he was enjoying it. You could tell by the darkening of his eyes, his pupils taking a majority of his iris, even with the candles lighting his handsome features.

You leant low, chasing after him in a drunken bliss, he hummed against your lips, hands falling to your hips. He desperately dug into your skin, maneuvering you to roll against his trousers. The catch of the material rubbing slightly upon your sensitive bead.

You pried down his trousers, happily nipping at König’s jaw when he hitched his hips up to help you rid them.

With lusting eyes you lowered your gaze, falling upon the hard and unwavering length of him. He twitched as you settled over him, the shaft of his cock sliding against your folds in a teasing notion. It physically pained you to not be full of your husband, but watching his forehead wrinkle and lips part open in sexual frustration was almost more delicious then being speared on him.

You rolled your hips down even slower, the head of his cock slightly breaching your entrance before you pulled away, you bit back a gasp, attempting to not let your husband know how much he effected you.

He cursed, a low hiss leaving his throat at the sudden movement.

“You wickedly divine woman,” he shunned, obviously taken with your little stunt.

A giggle escaped you, after all you couldn’t help the pleasure you received from teasing your King. Although, he seemed to be the most impatient tonight.

His hand found the plump curve of your ass, he lifted you with one arm, his other hand wrapping around himself. He gave himself a few pumps from his own hand, before lining his throbbing cock in one try.

Oh, how he memorized every curve of your body. How he adored every freckle, every blemish, every mark, and every limb. How he thought of kissing every worry from your mind, and fuck you like you were the only thing he’d ever worship.

Your palms lay flat on his open chest as you slowly settled down upon his tip, nails scratching against his firm muscle as your cunt swallowed him whole. Your head flew backwards, just enough for your breasts to bounce and throat to bob at your arousal.

The Kings all purred at the sight.

“That’s it, Maus.” König airily spoke, his fingertips digging so hard against your hips they would likely leave bruises.

You heaved yourself up again, his cock barely inside you before you let yourself fall back, filling completely. König twitched under you, the violent motion causing him to groan.

He was always one to fall apart when you were on top of him.

You bounced shallowly, reveling in the feeling of him sliding against your very womb with each bob of your hips. It had tears welling in your eyes, especially with the enormous size of him stretching upon your gummy walls.

“You like me hugging your cock? I bet the Kings wish they were here under me.” You whispered the vile words, enjoying the way your husband’s eyes flashed at such revelation.

His arm snaked around your back, allowing him to pull you closer and for him to rise up to meet your every move. You moaned at the jerky movement, allowing your walls to clench even tighter against him. König’s hands roamed your back, pulling you against his chest when he sat up, you ground down against him, appreciating his closeness as his lips nipped at your neck, now definitely leaving marks of purple and red.

You didn’t care. In fact, you clenched tighter at the thought of König taking you as his in front of everyone.

As it turned out, your King was relishing in that aspect too, his chin cradled against your collarbone as he eyed the kings from over your shoulders. A smirk plastered to his lips as he bucked his hips upwards, making a musical moan fall from your throat. Seeing the men so tore up with need for his precious wife only made him more smug.

He’d ruin you for any other man. No one could please you as he did.

He drew back, his mouth shining and bruised from your kisses. König’s lips pressed against your ear, “I bet they do wish for you. How could they not with your pretty little mouth crying on my cock?”

König bit the lobe of your ear, before squeezing his hands onto the backs of your thighs. He used his brute strength he only reserved for the battlefield to raise himself up, his cock still speared inside you.

You’ve seen him break backs over his knees, crack necks in his bare hands, spill guts with his sword. Now he used his strength to pull you into him, your legs wrapping helplessly around his waist. He used his strength to drop you onto your back, your head falling back onto the soft pillows once more.

You gasped hard, when he began to take control, pistoning into you at such a rapid speed you found yourself unable to control the cries of pleasure that left your throat.

He was sloppy, thrusting into you like a boy instead of a King. His large palms squeezed at your breasts as he ravished, your clenching cunt almost spent at the pace he was going.

His fingers rolled against a nipple, before he pinched upon the bud, making you cry out in painful delight. He was enjoying this, he was enjoying plowing into you and spreading your legs out wider to go deeper.

“I can’t…” you whimpered when he dug deep, his very tip hitting harshly against your womb.

“You will.” He growled, teeth clenching down as sweat began to slick onto his forehead. “Come on my love, just cum one more time for me.” He pleaded, kissing your lips as he rutted into you.

Those were the only words you needed, before you did as told. With a cry of pleasure, you clenched at the near euphoric sensation, your arms finding closure around his torso and legs wrapping around his waist as you shook.

“Fuckin’ Hell…” you heard one of the Kings loudly grunt, although you paid little attention as your eyes rolled backwards as König sloppily thrusted a few more times before he to, let out a grunt. He silenced himself by clenching his teeth down on your shoulder.

The warm feeling of his seed painted against your walls, a feeling of such deep devotion it had you thinking you could stay like this forever. Forever pierced on your Husband’s cock as he caressed your face sheening in sweat.

With a sigh, you unwrapped your legs, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay like this forever. People were watching after all.

König dropped away from you, not without burying his seed one more time into your aching cunt. Whispers broke out into your shared chambers, the councilmen seemingly pleased that there was a guarantee for heirs. They left, satisfied with your activities.

Yet, the eyes of the neighboring Kings were still glued to your body. König rolled over, sitting up into the furs and looking the Kings dead in the eyes. He looked playful, yet determination glittered in the storms of his iris.

With a cool finger, he traced your hipbone, before dipping lower. You gasped when his fingers dug near the entrance of your used cunt. He dug them into his cum, scooping out just enough for all of the observers to see.

“You’ve served your purpose. See that my seed is taken by my wife. She’s mine.”

Your face reddened at his vulgar point, just as he brought his messy fingers to your mouth.

“Open.” He ordered, before having you suck his fingertips in obedience. He was bittersweet on your tongue, but ever so exquisite.

“You may do what you like with her if she allows it. But I want you all to know, her cunt only belongs to me.”

“My wife. My Queen.”

Tags: @soapyghost @downbadformaskedmen @brainlessgf @uriahs-sketchings @mykneeshurt @lenafisher @idkthefuckimdoingwithmylife @keiva1000 @imtherain @purple-crying-out

#good grief I need a cold shower #cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #King AU

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casuallyimagining · 2 months

Text

Selfish. || myg.

Less of Them - Two: Selfish.

NSFW. minors dni

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 5,461

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: implied domestic abuse, controlling behavior, depression, arguing, a slap, blood, discovery of a dead body, murder

Notes: thank you to @oddinary4bts for beta-ing this

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

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There’s a bustle in the castle that hasn’t been here for a year. It’s like the very stone–polished, whitewashed, ancient–is vibrating with excitement. After all, a royal wedding is an exciting time, and everyone must play their part. The cherry trees, hundreds of them across the property of the castle and in the castle town, are close to blossom. The merchants are busy building and sewing and crafting and baking. The stewards and keepers have cleaned the castle walls inside and out more times than can be counted.

You cannot find it in yourself to match their enthusiasm.

You stand on a pedestal facing a floor-length mirror, a seamstress on either side of you. They haven’t stopped touching you since they’d walked into the room. Slipping garments onto your body. Primping and adjusting the fabric so it lays just right. Measuring, pinning, tucking, tacking. The silk is heavy, like lead on your limbs, and they just keep layering it on. All of it is an elegant cream color–not white, despite tradition. Daniel had instructed the royal seamstresses. It was because of him, after all. White is too pure, too untouched.

Maybe, under different circumstances, worn by someone else, you would find the gown pretty. The silken fabric is soft and luxurious, a delicate floral pattern embroidered into the sleeves. The skirt is plain, but it flows well, and it’s a slightly richer color than the rest. There’s a small loop at the waist where a luck ornament will be attached. You haven’t seen it yet–the queen mother hasn’t yet presented it to you–but the handmaids have told you that it’s meant to bring many sons.

But honestly, you’ve avoided looking–really looking–at any of it, your focus solely on the leather toe of your shoe sticking out from under the fabric of your dress. You were never too mesmerized by your reflection, but now… It’s hard to reconcile what you see with what used to be there. Your hair is longer. You’ve lost weight. A bruise peeks out from under the collar of your dress. There’s a hollowness in your eyes, and worse, there’s a hollowness somewhere deeper. A meekness that you don’t recognize, but that’s been gnawing at the edges of you for nearly a year now.

You don’t recognize yourself. You don’t want to recognize yourself.

“Have you seen him yet?” You hear one of the handmaidens ask as the seamstresses pin the fabric at your sleeve.

The other handmaiden groans softly. “I’ve been stuck inside all day. Kagha asked me to shine the silver.” Kagha is the stewardess of the castle, and she’s been running around like a crazy person of late trying to prepare for the wedding.

The first handmaiden leans closer to the other. You’ve seen her around, but you have no idea what her name is. “He’s gorgeous,” she whispers, so quiet you almost can’t hear.

“Shame he’s from the forest,” the second handmaiden laments, standing. Her arms are full of linen.

You hum. It’s been a long year. A lonely year. You’ve learned a lot, and you know you’ve done a lot of growing to meet the needs of the position you find yourself in. But that doesn’t mean that the path hadn’t been lonely. And you’d finally managed to convince Daniel to allow you to send a letter to your father, asking him to send you someone to serve in the castle.

Based on the handmaidens’ reactions, he’s sent Seokjin.

It makes sense. Out of anyone your father could have sent, Seokjin is the most likely to fit in at the castle and in Castle Town. He’s charming and smart, and knows how to hold himself at court. And, more than anyone, Seokjin knows–or assumes–how careful one must be in this life, too.

There’s an excitement bubbling in you that you haven’t felt in a while. Your step-brother. Here. Finally, a friend. You leave the seamstresses when they’re finished, an almost giddy bounce to your step. It leads you all the way to the King’s Council Chamber–if Seokjin is here, that’s where he’ll be. Daniel may not have greeted you on your arrival to the Ironhold, but he would certainly not risk snubbing the eldest son of one of the old families.

You stand outside of the council chamber, suddenly unsure. The excitement has faded, replaced with the roiling unease that comes with being anywhere near this room. You should wait. As excited as you may be to see Seokjin, you don’t want to risk Daniel’s ire at your interruption. So you stand there, outside the door, far enough away so that you aren’t in anyone’s way.

After a moment, you can feel your heartbeat start to pound in your ears. Maybe waiting is a mistake. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can make it back to your chambers. Maybe you can wait there. You nod to yourself. That’s a better idea. You’ll wait for them to come to you.

You’ve just turned to go when the door opens, the hinges creaking lowly with the motion. You can hear Daniel’s voice, but it’s Eden, Daniel’s younger brother, who walks out first. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, half fleeing, and you can hear him make a little noise of surprise. It doesn’t last long, though, because as soon as Daniel spots you, Eden’s face schools into something neutral.

Daniel stops mid-word to question you. “What are you doing here?”

“I-” Your words stick in your throat. You shouldn’t be here, but you’re frozen in place. And then, just when you think things can’t get worse, a dark head of hair and curious, feline eyes poke out from around Daniel’s form.

You freeze, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole. You feel yourself wilt, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of how you’re standing, how awkward your arms feel at your side, how rigid your spine feels. It’s not Seokjin. You could never be that lucky.

Daniel stalks toward you and roughly grabs your upper arm. His fingers dig in, pressing into your flesh. You wince ever so slightly–it hurts, the bruise already there is an angry deep purple–but quickly, you school your face into something more pleasant.

“We’ve talked about this,” Daniel says. His voice is even, but you can hear the undertones.

You should not be here.

You’re embarrassing me. Again.

We will discuss this again later.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out softer than you’d like, and you wonder if he can hear the slight tremble, or if it’s just you. “I… I thought it was Seokjin and I…” You trail off, eyes falling to the stone floor.

The king jerks you closer, grip like a vise on your upper arm. “You what?”

“I got excited.”

He hums. “I see.”

Off to your left, Eden clears his throat. “Brother. You have a meeting with Mother and the High Priest in the garden soon. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Daniel nods and squeezes your arm. “We’ll discuss this later.”

The brothers leave, and suddenly, the hall is quiet. The few guards that had been milling around follow Daniel and Eden out. You clear your throat, unable to meet the dark eyes that watch you curiously. He’s never been to the Crownlands, and your brain latches onto an idea.

This doesn’t have to be awkward.

“Have you seen the grounds?” you question finally, shifting your weight.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Would you like to?”

You can feel him looking at you, can feel the questions hanging in the air. Thankfully–and surprisingly–he says nothing, simply motions for you to lead the way.

“The castle was built nearly 800 years ago by the Choi family. Because of tensions at the time between the royal family and the rest of the old families, the Ironhold was built to be nearly impregnable, with oil chutes built into every staircase and balistraria in every exterior wall.” You gesture to one of the arrow slits in the wall, where the sunlight from the mid-spring sun peeks through the thick stone. You know that he knows all this–he sat through almost as many of your father’s history lessons as you did–but it helps to keep talking.

And to his credit, Yoongi listens patiently. He follows dutifully at your side, pausing to look at things you point out and nodding along where appropriate. You can’t show him everything–that would almost be impossible as the castle grounds are so large. But you walk him through parts of the gardens (“There are over 1,000 cherry trees on the castle grounds.”), and show him the fish ponds (“The fish have been imported from the Eastern Coastlands. Some of the koi are descendants of the original fish brought in when the ponds were built 300 years ago!”). You walk past the Queen Mother’s private residence in the southern part of the castle grounds and show him the knight’s barracks and the training grounds.

All of the buildings on the castle grounds look the same. It had taken you a few months to actually learn where everything was and what each building housed. Tall, sloping, whitewashed walls, deep blue tile roofs, sharp corners and rectangular windows. A far cry from the curved staircases and round windows and dark woods of Castle Blackwood.

Re-entering the castle proper, you show him the Grand Hall, where important dinners are held, and the king’s dining room. And finally, finally, you end the tour of the castle grounds on the second floor of the western tower where your chambers–and the chambers of personal guards and hand servants–are. You’ve known for a while that there was a room designated for your own personal guard, so you end up in front of that door.

“This is yours,” you tell him, gesturing to the door. It’s not as thick or as dark as the ones back at Castle Blackwood, but you grew accustomed to those small differences long ago.

He stands there, his hand on the brass doorknob, gaze soft as he takes you in. You can see his eyes dart briefly to where the bruise peeks out from under your collar and feel yourself shrink away. You don’t want to know what he sees when he looks at you.

“Come in.” His voice is gentle, almost as if he’s speaking to a wounded animal. “Let’s catch up.”

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It’ll make it harder to move forward–to move on. But then he says, “Please,” and you’ve never been able to resist the softness of his eyes. So you let him lead you into his chambers and shut the door.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen you in a dress,” he says quietly. He stands in front of you, a little awkward. He keeps rubbing his hands together, patting down his trousers. It’s little comfort to know that he’s just as nervous as you are.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?” You don’t mean to snap, but it just kind of happens. You aren’t sure what this means–what it means for him, let alone what it means for you. There’s a pit in your stomach that feels almost like you swallowed a rock, and you do your best to steady yourself.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you here? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t it have been Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any- anyone else?”

He reaches into his doublet and pulls out a folded piece of parchment. It’s a little crumpled, the edges a little worn, like it’s been read many times. You catch a glimpse of a forest green wax seal still clinging to the top edge, and immediately you know what it is.

“Maybe we’re both a little selfish.” The way he says it, you can feel your heart sink.

Of course you know what the letter says. It haunts you, but at the time, you thought you were doing the right thing. You still do.

I hope that, in time, you can move on. That eventually, you will find yourself in love. That you will find happiness again. It’s selfish, but I will only be able to live through this with the hope that you are happy and living a life that is worthy of the care you’ve shown me.

Find someone who loves you as much as I do. For my sake, if nothing else.

You want him to be able to move on and live his life. You want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy. And you would sacrifice your own happiness a hundred times over if it meant he could have the life he deserves.

Yoongi reaches out, and your heart races. You tense, an automatic reaction, and his hand pauses mere centimeters from your cheek. A look of confusion crosses his dark eyes that quickly morphs to understanding and then sadness. His hand falls back to his side.

“How did you get that bruise?” His voice is casual, but you know him, can practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

You tug the collar of your gown so that it covers better. “I tripped.”

“And bruised your shoulder?”

“I’m still getting used to the gowns.”

He hums. You know he knows you’re lying. But you aren’t sure how much you want to allow him back in yet. You aren’t sure how much you want to drag him down with you.

He sighs, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he looks at the letter that’s still in his hands. “I tried,” he says softly. “For the first few months, I thought that if I could just convince myself that I was mad at you, it would be easier. I tried so hard to hate you, to blame you for leaving, make it your fault.” He looks up at you, then, and you can see a shine to his eyes. He reaches out again, but this time, the tips of his fingers brush against your hand. “But I couldn’t. It’s not fair, but it’s even less fair for you. And I want to be here. I know it won’t be easy, but I want to be here with you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Your eyes sting, and there’s a lump in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down.

Hours later, you’re alone in your chambers. Dusk has fallen, the handmaidens have already been through to light the few candles on the tray near your bed. You sit on the chaise under the open window, a gentle spring breeze lightly caressing your skin. Silently, you stare down at the wooden box in your hands.

It’s dusty. You haven’t touched it since placing it on the shelf when you’d first arrived in the Ironhold. You can see the fingerprints from how you’ve held it over the past half-hour. Gently, you wipe the dust from the gilded leaves of the thistle and press them in. A soft ‘click’ echoes through the inside of the box.

You take the contents out carefully. Sketches from one of the artists in the Forest Town–one of you, your father, your step-mother, and Namjoon and Seokjin; the other of you and Yoongi. You look much younger here, even though the drawings were only done a few years ago. It feels like an eternity. The real reason you’d pulled the box off the shelf, though, is still in your hand, wrapped delicately in a piece of cloth you’d ripped from a pair of your trousers.

Once it’s unwrapped, you hold it between your thumb and your forefinger and inspect it in the low light.

Part of you feels guilty that this is the first time you’ve looked at it in almost a year, that you can’t wear it, even on a chain around your neck, or at the very least that you can’t display it in some way. You shouldn’t have accepted it. But there’s no way you could have known it would have spent a year hidden away in a secret compartment in a wooden box, wrapped in the fabric of the trousers you can no longer wear.

You suppose there are things about the world your father couldn’t have thought to teach you.

He couldn’t have prepared you for everything you’ve learned here. How to break yourself down, brick by brick, and rebuild from the ground up. How to change how you talk, how you think. To change your personality to be more likable, less loud, less prominent. To change how you walk, how you stand, how you take up space. A good queen knows when to enhance her king’s spotlight, but also how to fade into the background. She’s firm but quiet. She defers to her husband’s opinions, she doesn’t shape them. And certainly, she knows naught of how the king’s court functions.

He could never have taught you that there’s a special kind of loneliness reserved only for future queens, when you arrive in a new city and no one knows you and no one likes you and no one wants to know or like you. You’ll just be another fixture in the Crownlands, a figurehead with no power, a vessel with no thoughts. There for one thing–maybe two, if you’re lucky–and ignored the rest of the time.

You miss home, miss having things to fill your time with. You miss the activity of Blackwood Castle–there was always something going on, even if it was something minor. Now, you feel as though you spend most of your time daintily draping yourself across chaises and windowsills, watching the world pass you by. You’d tried to go to the library once and were barred entry (“The queen has no need for such knowledge!”). You’d been banned from the council chambers (“How dare you embarrass your king in front of the Eastern traders!”). You couldn’t watch the knights spar, couldn’t sit by as the dog trainers did their work, couldn’t stroll the streets of the Castle Town.

The sound of guard boots in the hall draw your attention, and you jump, hurriedly re-wrapping the ring in cloth and slotting it and the two drawings back into the secret compartment in the box. You press the thistle flower and manage to wipe the rest of the dust off the front just as the door to your chamber opens.

Daniel stands there, the Realm’s unshakeable king, smelling of wine and grinning like the dog that caught the hare. He doesn’t say anything, merely shuts the door behind him and yanks the bolt in place to lock it. You embrace him as he approaches, allowing him to push you back onto the bed.

After he leaves, you stare at the ceiling and hope that someday soon, you’ll start to feel less hollow again.

It takes mere days for Yoongi to fully integrate into life in the Ironhold. Or, perhaps, integrate is the wrong word. It takes mere days for him to disappear. Once it’s clear he’s there to stay, he’s no longer a novelty, overshadowed by the wedding looming over the next couple days. He goes with you to dress fittings, sits behind you out of the way when you meet with the clergy. He even accompanies you to meet with the Queen Mother. You’re shocked that she allows him to stand in on your conversation, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’re a little glad she does.

“My knights followed me everywhere over the years,” she says casually, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I expect you’d want yours to do the same, forest bumpkin though he is.”

The Queen Mother sits at a small table near the window. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, simply stares out at the garden as if she’s inspecting the very plants for quality of growth. It’s uncanny how much her sons have inherited from her. Daniel has the same intense, calculating gaze, and both he and Eden have her high cheekbones and downturned lips. They’ve all got the same dark, glossy hair and downturned eyes.

You stand there, waiting for her to address you again. It’s awkward, but you dare not move. You can feel Yoongi’s presence behind you–he’s been quiet all morning, but you can tell that he has thoughts about life in the castle. You ignore him. Instead, you focus your attention on the table in front of you and the Queen Mother’s cup of tea.

Finally, the Queen Mother brings her attention back in your direction, leveling a gaze at you that reminds you just how scrutinized you’ve been since you arrived at the Ironhold nearly a year ago. She studies you for a moment before raising her teacup to her lips. “I suppose you’re expecting me to give you the norigae for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

That had been why you thought she’d called this meeting. The seamstresses who’d been working on your gown said the Queen Mother would give you a lucky decoration. They’d said it was a big honor, that it was tradition. Now, you’re unsure. Still, though, you nod quietly.

The Queen Mother hums. Her gaze burns into you, and when you fidget where you stand, she frowns. “Danny has said that your dress is to be cream.”

“It’s pretty.”

“It’s not white.” Her tone is as sharp as her glare. It’s an accusation.

You swallow. “I do as my king asks.”

“The traditional norigae has been passed down for generations in the Choi family,” the Queen Mother says. She does not look at you, merely glares down at her tea cup. “It’s supposed to bring great luck to the marriage and many sons. It’s meant to be given to a king’s bride to both welcome her into the Choi family and celebrate the pure gift she brings with her.”

It scares you a little, how she says it. It almost sounds like a threat, though you aren’t quite sure what she’s threatening you with. What you do know, though, is that you probably should be scared of whatever it is.

“Do you think you deserve that?” she questions.

“I…”

You aren’t sure what to say. You aren’t sure there’s anything you can say. You’ve willingly allowed Daniel into your bed when he’s come calling. He’s the king and the man you are to marry. This is your life now.

Her question lingers as you wrack your brain for something–anything–to say. Thankfully, she puts you out of your misery.

“I suppose I must. Tradition is tradition, after all.” She sighs. “I will give it to the dressmakers tomorrow before the ceremony.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

“You may go.” There is no room for argument.

The trek back through the gardens and to your chambers is silent. Yoongi is quiet as he follows you, the only signs that he’s there are his shadow following yours and his footsteps echoing off the stone floors of the castle. He shuts the door behind you as you enter your room, sliding the steel bolt into place to lock it.

“That’s not necessary,” you tell him, collapsing onto the chaise at the foot of your bed. You’re exhausted, and there’s something heavy growing in your chest. “You can return to your own chambers. I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

He doesn’t move, and when you look up at him, you can see the conflict in his eyes. After a moment, he seems to decide on something, because he takes a cautious step forward.

“You know you don’t have to put up with any of this.”

“What?” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

“We could run away.” He’s closer now, kneeling in front of you. Carefully, he takes your hand, holding it as though it were glass.

You shake your head. “You know that’s not possible.”

Yoongi squeezes your hand, dark eyes pleading. “We could go somewhere far away. Somewhere they couldn’t find you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“You’re exactly who I’m worried about.” His tone is firm. “This place is poison, it’s… it’s-”

“It’s fine, Yoongi.” His touch is electric on your skin, and you jerk your hand away, burned by his proximity. “This is my duty. This is my life.”

“It’s not fine!” He stands, clearly frustrated. “You don’t deserve how these assholes treat you. No one does. The Westerlands can deal with whatever comes from-”

“Loyalty does not yield.”

“Fuck that! Have some sense!”

“Get out.” You say it as loud as you dare, not wanting to draw the guards but desperate, so, so desperate, for him to leave. When he doesn’t move, you pick up the closest thing to you—a soft-bound journal—and throw it at him. The book hits him in the chest with a dull thud and plops to the ground.

A pillow follows. Then another. A blanket. Your hair brush. Anything you can get your hands on, you hurl in his direction. If he would just leave and let you rest. You’re exhausted. Dear God, why won’t he leave? Eventually, you’re out of ammunition, everything else around you being too heavy or too large to throw with any sort of accuracy. Yoongi, to his credit, has stayed stock-still throughout the ordeal, unflinching despite the onslaught.

You stalk over to him, blood pressure rising. There’s a headache stirring behind your eyes. The pit grows inside of you. “Go. Now.”

“No.” He says it so calmly.

“Stubborn fool. I will send you home.”

“Listen to yourself,” he pleads. “This isn’t you, you don’t-”

Your palm stings.

Why does your palm sting?

You look down, confused, and see your skin a shade of angry red. Movement in front of you draws your attention. For the first time since you’d thrown the journal, Yoongi moves. His hand comes up to cup his cheek; your gaze follows his arm as it moves. There, hidden by his hand, his skin begins to blossom pink.

It’s like you’re sucked out of your body. You can see yourself standing there, cradling your stinging hand, staring in bewilderment at the red that blooms across his skin. A silent moment passes. But then you feel something, deep within you. At first, it’s nothing more than a tremor, a slight tremble within you, but then it builds. Your heart races. Whatever was left of you—whatever you’d been able to claw and cobble together over the last year—implodes. You can feel it shatter within you, a thousand times more powerful than the initial destruction. And with it, you crumble.

Yoongi approaches you cautiously, like he’s coming up on a wounded animal. “What can I do?” he asks, his voice soft, kind. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Leave,” you beg.

You regret it. You regret contacting your father. You regret asking him to send someone. Why you thought having any of them here would be helpful–or why you’d never considered it would be him–you’ll never know. You can survive here–you were surviving here. But at what cost?

It hits you hard, blindsiding you like a sudden storm. The truth is, you’re scared. What if the old you–the you he fell in love with… What if she’s gone? What if she can’t come back? What if she died the day you climbed into that carriage, replaced by this hollow husk of a person you are now?

You suppose it doesn’t matter. You’re here. Yoongi is here. Tomorrow, you will marry Daniel. And from there, you will take things as you have. One day at a time.

Eventually, you manage to pull yourself together. Your face still feels stiff and puffy, but you refuse to remove the cloth you’ve draped over the mirror, so you don’t know if it really is. You’ve got a headache–all the pressure behind your eyes and in your cheeks is enough to make you feel like your head is splitting open. Part of you just wants to go to sleep. But it’s barely mid-afternoon, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’re supposed to be doing.

The wedding is tomorrow, but you’ve gotten almost no direction from anyone on what should be happening. You suspect that something should be happening, but you have no idea what it could possibly be. As a child, you spent more time climbing trees and tormenting Namjoon with Yoongi than dreaming of your wedding, but even still. This feels like a business transaction.

A knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and it takes a moment for you to gather yourself. Your mind is a little hazy as you slide the bolt unlocked and open the door, but when you see Eden standing there, you force yourself to come to your senses. The prince bows slightly with his head, inclining it forward ever so slightly. It’s respectful, but only so much–he’s still the one with royal blood.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, stepping into the room. You haven’t really invited him in, but you step aside anyway and close the door behind him. “I heard that mother may have accosted you over the norigae this morning.”

“She was within her right,” you tell him softly.

Eden hums. “Still. You’re to be part of this family. Mother is just disappointed that she won’t be the most important woman in Daniel’s life anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s remotely true.”

He snorts, a wry smile on his lips. In the year you’ve been at the Ironhold, Eden has become your favorite person here. You don’t particularly trust him, but of everyone that lives in the Crownlands, he seems the most normal.

Casually, Eden wanders over to a window, looking out over the courtyard several levels below. “It is my hope that things will get easier for you in time.”

From where you’re sitting, that seems almost impossible. But you don’t want to quash his optimism. So you smile politely and nod.

“I brought you something,” Eden tells you, and the way he says it, it sounds almost like a conspiracy.

Carefully, he pulls a long strip of fabric out of his pocket. It’s a beautiful silk, red as blood–the chosen color of House Choi. He holds it out with both hands.

“Technically, my brother should be giving this to you,” he says as you take it. “But I don’t think he cares so much about keeping to every tradition. Just the ones that are convenient to him.”

You can feel something thin and hard inside the silk. Eden nods, and you gently unfold the fabric. Inside is a hairpin, shiny silver and around the length of your hand. The end is an intricate dragon head, expertly forged, and in its mouth, a bright red gem. The same dragon that stands resolutely on the Choi family crest. It’s pretty, but something about it makes your heart hurt.

“Tomorrow, you will become a dragon,” Eden says. “You should be able to dress like one.”

“Th-thank you.” You can barely manage it, and you hope that he takes your struggle as emotion and not the war that’s starting to wage within you.

After Eden leaves, the hours pass slowly. You aren’t sure what time it is when Daniel stops by your chambers. He barely speaks to you, but you can tell something is different about tonight. He stays longer after, falls asleep in your bed, on top of the coverlet. You aren’t sure when you drift off, only that you do.

You aren’t quite sure what wakes you up. It’s late. Or maybe early. It’s pitch dark–you can’t even see candles in the windows across the courtyard. Mysteriously, Daniel is still beside you. You’ve awoken on your side, so you can’t see him, but you can feel the dip in the mattress and the pull of his body on the blankets.

But there’s something else. Your blankets almost feel damp, the linen heavy with an extra weight. You sit up, curious, and immediately notice a spot that pools around Daniel. It’s soaked down deep into the mattress, the spot dark, almost black, in the dark of night. You reach out and touch it, and though you aren’t sure what you’re expecting, it’s sticky.

“My king?” you ask softly, touching his arm. He hasn’t moved since you woke, and you have a sinking sense that something is horribly wrong. When he doesn’t rouse, you shake him. “Daniel?”

There’s no response. His arm is stiff. He does not move. Your skin is sticky. You shake him harder, so hard that he rolls over. For a moment, you believe he’s awake. But then you see the cloth sticking out of his parted lips. And the gaping hole in his neck.

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#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader

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luveline · 7 months

Note

Hello! Would it be alright to request something where prince!steve and his Princess attend their first formal event together?

tysm for requesting ♡ prince steve au

"Don't spill anything," Steve advises under his breath. "Your corset is alabaster."

"I know. I feel like breathing the wrong way is gonna crack it like papier mache."

He snorts, adjusting your hand on his arm to the correct position where you stand around a corner from the grand staircase. You wince as rich laughter bounces off the marble steps, the sound wrought with a feeling akin to hounds snapping at your heels.

"Your nails look nice," Steve says.

He's already complimented your face, your hair, and your dress. There's not much left to praise, but he finds something anyhow, and a flush of pleasure warms your skin. "Thank you," you say, looking down at your painted nails, a shimmering mother of pearl lacquer coating each one. The cost rivals a month's groceries. "They had so many colours… we started with red, but I thought it looked silly on me. My hands are weird."

"Your hands are perfect." His eyes shine with sincerity, lips pulled into an amused smile that feels like a well-aimed bop to the chest. "I can get you more. Nail lacquer, I mean. There's a small Sri Lankan boutique by Cordelian House, they have all that intricate cosmetic stuff. It's where Munson gets his kohl sticks." He smiles at you reassuringly. "I'm trying to distract you. It's not working, is it?"

"I'm going to mess up. Your mom– the queen–"

"You can call her my mom. That's what she is." Steve nods his understanding of the things you've said without saying them. "She'll be disappointed if you mess up. But I won't be. I'm proud of you for even putting on the dress. I'd be proud of you if you didn't."

You lick your lips, cherry balm sticky on the tip of your tongue. "Thank you, Steve."

He says things like this with little regard for how forward it is. Not that subtlety is required. While antiquated in some aspects, the contemporary royal society is loudly lustful. You and Steve could be intimate together now weeks before the wedding and nobody would bat an eye, but you suspect that he's just as unprepared for that as you are, no matter how gently he covers your hand with his.

There's a short sound like a bird call. Steve straightens his back, his thumb drawing a half circle across your fingers. "Ready?" he asks.

You nod. You don't really have a choice.

They announce you together, Prince Steven and his Soul Marked Y/N. It sounds ridiculous to hear his name after weeks of Please, call me Steve, or anything else but Steven. Doubly so to hear you announced as his and not yourself. A simple 'Miss' would have sufficed. Braced for a night of similar small agonies, you hold tight to Steve's arm and begin your descent down the grand staircase and into the foyer. The palace is a structure of white stone that shines silver in some lights, impossible walls of selenite and gauzy silks. The steps are more solid, a plain marble that clicks under the soles of your short heels.

"Don't let me fall," you say under your breath, the hush of the crowd nearly occluding your voice completely.

"Never." You can hear his polite smile. "Don't panic."

You can't not panic, sweat at your naked collar, pearls like beads of ice bobbing with each step you take. The second you reach the floor you deflate with an exhale, your back clicking at the sudden decompression. There's a brief round of applause at your arrival before the cheery music begins anew, the dancing begins again, and the many faces that surround you blur into jewels and elegant clothes, fabrics coloured manilla white, snailshell purple, emerald green, a rainbow of satins swirling this way and that as girls are pushed into spins to the right of the foyer under the ballroom chandelier.

"You'll dance with me, yeah?" Steve asks tentatively.

You meet his eyes, all their soft brown gazing at you like you're worth his worry. His lashes twitch as his gaze darts swiftly down and up again.

"Do I have something?" you ask, lifting your chin.

"Lipstick. I can fix it?" He brings his hand to your lips before you've answered, using the trimmed nail of his pinky finger to wipe at your lip. You turn still as a porcelain statue, a shiver rushing down your chest at the warmth of his touch.

"You'll dance with me?" he asks again, his knuckle brushing your chin as he drops his hand.

"Of course I'll dance with you, Steve. We're expected to."

He throws a glance at the people around you and steps closer. "I want to dance with you because you want to dance. We don't have to do anything. Not this ball, not the dance. Not the wedding." He sighs. "You have choices."

"No. I don't." Because there glows your wrist. Threads of translucency like spider web and downy feather combined, a sorry hue of blue.

"Yes, you do," he whispers. "You want to leave? We'll leave right now. I just want you to be happy, and with me."

You think about it. The weight of hundreds of eyes on your shoulders and the restriction of your corset is making you nauseous. If you left, that sickness would go. But Steve wouldn't get to dance with you.

"I don't want to leave," you say, not sure if you're lying or not. You'd quite like to have his hands on your hips again. And sometimes before the dip he breathes in your ear, says something soft, like Keep going, you got it.

"No?" he asks, relieved.

"No. Let's dance. We need the practice…" You offer your hand. He takes it, the smudge of lipstick on his pinky finger like a heart. "I'm sorry. I want to dance."

"What are you sorry for?" he asks, leaning down to kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Let's dance. If you mess up, I'll mess up worse. I promise. I'll chicken dance in front of everybody."

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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love-belle · 7 months

Text

maahi ve !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're so in love and they make it everyone's problem.

for when you find your forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // mick schumacher x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - this is so short but i HAD to post idc i hope u all liked it <3 more parts of desi!reader soon but before that how u get that girl so yeah !! i love u so much <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ��

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 678,527 others

yourusername maahi ve ( love )

tagged mickschumacher

7,827 comments

username SCREAMING

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username me when.

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carmenmmundt 🫶🏼

*liked by yourusername*

lewishamilton miss you both 💜

-> yourusername cannot wait to see u this week <3 !!

username FEED US THE BF!MICK CONTENT QUEEN

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-> username literally and figuratively bc yk.......

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mercedesamgf1 give me my son back - toto wolff

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-> mercedesamgf1 don't call me that - toto wolff

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username ok so who was gonna tell me that y/n calls toto dorothy AND gets away with it

username someone sedate me pls

username AHSJSJSJAKJSJDJSKSKS

username beautiful ethereal breathtaking beauty hot angelic gorgeous pretty cute adorable alluring elegant lovely all nice things adjectives

-> yourusername mick's burner acc js dropped

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mickschumacher baby 🍒

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mickschumacher can i have your number pls

-> yourusername i have a bf

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-> yourusername my boyfriend carmenmmundt

-> carmenmmundt that one song "i could be a better boyfriend than him" is so true

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-> mickschumacher pick me up please mercedesamgf1

-> mercedesamgf1 don't bully our reserve driver - toto wolff

username babe wake up mom and dad are being cute again

username i love them so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 799,627 others

mickschumacher this is my sexie girlfriend and when i look into her eyes i see god

tagged yourusername

9,628 comments

mickschumacher i did not write the caption

-> yourusername WOW

mickschumacher my girlfriend had my phone

-> yourusername okayyy pinocchio 🤥

mickschumacher please believe me

-> yourusername U LITERALLY WROTE THIS AND RAN AWAY

username HELP THE CAPTION

username so real

username no bc if she was my girlfriend i would be the same

username ONE CHANCE

username lord when will it be me

username on my knees for y/n y/l/n and y/n y/l/n only

lewishamilton the caption is 100% by mick

-> yourusername THANK YOU

-> mickschumacher it's NOT

-> yourusername okayyy stay delulu

username mick it's okay to embrace ur inner simp ❤️

username what have i done to NOT deserve this kinda love

username no bc english lang is so funny u say true love and it translates to y/n and mick

username MY generation's icons

susie_wolff adorable ☺️❤️

-> mickschumacher ❤️

-> yourusername SUSIE I LOVE U

-> susie_wolff i love you too sweetheart ❤️

-> username susie the supportive mother in law and toto the reluctant father in law

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-> username george and lewis the annoying brother in laws

-> yourusername see now THAT is real username

-> lewishamilton and to think i took your side

-> georgerussell63 you're banned from visiting

-> yourusername no im not carmen loves me more

-> carmenmmundt true

username these comments section are fucking chaotic omg

username in love

username don't post me unless the caption is "this is my sexie girlfriend and when i look into her eyes i see god"

landonorris you genuinely said "fuck me" last night when you saw her at the bar. this is nothing

-> mickschumacher LANDO

-> username OH MY GOD

yourusername i love u bb <3

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yourusername bf

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yourusername we make a hot couple

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#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #mick schumacher blurb #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x y/n #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher instagram au

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karimationkat · 1 month

Text

Sandcastle AU

Basically an AU where Gold survived being sucked into a corrupted minecraft but ended up with amnesia and as a glitch (similar to Vanellope from wreck it ralph) and becomes a King.

The AU name stems from the title of a drabble I wrote and because for some reason I imagined Gold being the King of a sandcastle castle lol.

Due to amnesia Gold doesn't remember their life before minecraft, so, they never try to leave minecraft or make an attempt to return to KO/MT. And because of being glitchy, Gold can basically cheat by going through blocks or glitching the items into multiplying. Also, any commands from the command block staff is useless on Gold because of the instability in the code.

Originally I didn't want to turn that one "what if Gold actually survived without MT/KO knowing" theory into an AU but after thinking about the Queen Cherry AU, I realised, why not? Why not make Gold a royal as well?

So, I imagined Sandcastle Gold and Queen Cherry Gold to meeting, and it would go like this:

S!Gold: Whooaaahh! You are me from a different universe? That's cool!

QC!Gold: Thanks! It's so awesome to meet another me! Why are you glitching though? =O

S!Gold: I don't know. I'm just like that.

QC!Gold: I see, well that makes you unique! Anyway, have you found our dad yet?

S!Gold:...

S!Gold: We have a dad?

#Sandcastle AU #Queen Cherry AU #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm #avm gold

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jeankluv · 3 months

Text

Cherry Lips || Fem!Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: +18, modern au, roommates, best friends to lovers, masturbation, oral sex, sexual toys, fingering, female law, no use of y/n, no description of the oc

Notes: finally the queen made her debut on the anime and what a better way to celebrate it than making a lesbian nsfw one shot.

Materialist

She was her best friend, but she was so down for her. Hell she has been for years. She knew how she felt about women long before she met her best friend, but the moment of meeting her and becoming close had awakened something in her that she had never felt before.

She had tried every means to sink those feelings deep down, but she had been in vain. It didn't care how many dates she had or how many one-night stands she had, he could only think about her and her tattoos, her ear piercings, her short dark hair, her big gray eyes. her. Oh my god I was so screwed.

And now alone in the apartment they shared, she wanted to tear her hair out. She had left to go on a date with some asshole. But of course she couldn't blame her for anything when she did the same thing.

“Fuck it.” She sighed.

Besides, Law had never shown interest in her, or in any other girl. Since she met her she had only dated assholes, as she liked to call it.

“I should have gone out today…” She closed her eyes, rubbing her temple. “At least I wouldn't be here dying of jealousy.”

She could be spending a night with some girl but she was there alone, in her apartment watching a shitty movie. It was barely eleven at night, and I was not sleepy. What could I do?

An idea crossed his mind. Law probably wasn't going to arrive in a couple of hours. So he could take advantage of this time alone to enjoy himself. Normally she had to control herself, even though Law had told her more than once that it didn't matter. But that made her worse, she meant that she didn't feel anything from her when she heard her moan at night when she touched herself.

She got up from the couch and went to his room, it was hot. Thinking about Law and the dress she wore for her date had made her horny. And she needed to touch herself or in the end she would explode from helplessness.

She walked to her room and looked for the vibrator she had bought a few years ago. She dropped the black pajamas she was wearing and lay on her bed.

She began touching her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine as her cold hand collided with her nipple. And with his other hand he sucked two of his fingers to bring them to his entrance and then insert them.

Moans began to escape her mouth and she imagined it was Law, the one pushing her tattooed fingers into her pussy. She wanted so much for those fingers to touch her and for those lips, painted with a cherry color, to devour her.

“Fuck Law…” She moaned out loud.

It didn't matter how much she moaned, she didn't care because she was alone and her best friend wasn't going to know that she was fantasizing about her. She took her fingers out and picked up the vibrator from the table and began to pleasure herself. If I continued at this pace he would cum in just a few minutes.

“Fuck yes.”

Her breathing was becoming more labored and her pulse was even faster, she was so close, so close to arriving. Until she heard her name being called. She could feel how she paled in that instant. Law was standing in front of the door, mouth half open, looking at her. It was not the first time she had seen her naked, but it was the first time she had seen her in that situation.

“Fuck Law!” She screamed, trying to cover herself up. “Why are you here so early?”

“He was an asshole and I left earlier.” She said without stop looking at her. “Like you said.”

“Of course! I’m always right. You always match with the worst kind of guys.” She said, looking in another direction.

What’s up with that look on her face?

Law called you once again. “Did you came?”

She looked at her, of course she didn’t. “No.” She whispered.

Law nodded and left the room without saying anything. She looked at the spot where Law had been a moment ago and felt something in her chest vibrate. Why had Law been looking at her like that? There was something she didn't understand, something she was unable to decipher.

She felt Law's footsteps approaching her room again and there she saw her again. She entered her room and closed it behind her. Approaching the bed she climbed up, causing the mini dress she was wearing to ride up more than expected and probably expose her red underwear.

“Law, what are you doing?” She whispered when Law touched her leg.

“You said you didn’t came, so I’m going to help you.” She said, grabbing one of her legs and placing a kiss on them.

“Law! You don’t…” She was shaking, just one kiss had made her shake like that.

“I don’t what?” She smirked, getting closer to her. “You were moaning my name so prettily just a few minutes ago.” She held her chin and looking at her.

“I…” Shit, she heard her and now she was there wanting to make her cum.

“Tell me, you want me to make you cum?” She lend closer to her lips.

She swallowed and nodded, if she wanted it, of course she wanted it. "Yes please."

“That’s my girl.” She said leaving a kiss on the corner of her lips and laying her on the bed.

Law placed herself between her legs and began to devour her best friend's pussy. She began to moan, it was not at all what she had imagined, it was much better. Law's tongue entered and touched places that she thought were not possible, while with one of her hands she played with one of her nipples and with the other hand she rubbed her clitoris.

“So sweet.” Law licked her lips, once she came.

“Law…” Her chest moved up and down, trying to restore her normal breathing, trying to calm her heart. Because no matter how much she tried to deny it, she was so screwed by that girl with tattoos that at any moment, she would break.

“Yes princess?” She touched her hair approaching her.

“I… you.” She looked down, Law also deserved to be pleased.

She turned around, both of them, leaving Law behind. The gray-eyed girl looked at her with surprise and then with a smirk on her face. She lowered the straps of her dress, revealing more of the tattoo on her chest and then her naked breasts, decorated with a piercing in each nipple. She moved her mouth to one of them and started playing with it. She could hear Law moaning her name and pulling her hair. She lowered her hand to her entrance and without warning she inserted two fingers inside her, making her turn her back at the sensation.

She changed the nipples but kept moving her fingers in and out of her, while Law kept repeating her name and saying that she was going to cum. When she finally felt her cum on her fingers and Law's heavy breathing beneath her, she pulled away from her nipple and looked at her with a smile on her face.

If this had been a feverish dream she hoped she would never wake up. And if it had been reality, she wanted it to happen again.

“That was…” She started talking.

“Amazing.” Law smiled, cupping her cheeks.

“Law I…”

“Yes?”

“I like you.” It was out, finally it was out of her chest. “I know you don’t feel the same and it’s okay, I just hope our friendship isn’t ruined by this.”

“Who said I don’t feel the same?” She looked at Law with surprise.

“But you… You…”

“I have been trying to deny my feelings for quite some time but every time I see you those feelings come back to me, stronger than ever. Tonight’s date was just my confirmation, that it doesn’t matter how much I search, there is no one else like you.”

She was speechless, she felt the same way as her. “Law…I felt the same way. For so long, the only one I could think about was you and only you. And these feelings have been killing me.”

“Well princess, it’s over now.” She smiled and kissed her.

The kiss was sweet and slow, filled with all the love they had kept for so long

“Should I move to your room?” Law whispered into her lips.

“I think your room is bigger, I should move to yours.”

“That’s a good idea.”

#law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #one piece x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you

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captn-james · 2 years

Text

The Walkman - Eddie Munson

Eddie finds one of your favorite cassettes in your Walkman and can’t help but imagine the music is dedicated to him. Eddie’s friends are determined to make sure he does something about it.

Words: 4.3k Tags: Eddie x fem!reader, jealous Eddie, meddling kids, fluff

Warnings: just explicit language

Note: Here is a shameless self-insert POV to heal the cracks in our hearts. This is an AU where everyone is SAFE and the Duffer Brothers aren’t inflicting sadistic pain on everyone. Eddie is a HUGE softie in this one but it’s what we deserve.

____________________________________________________________

Almost everyone that Eddie had ever met had expectations for him. Expectations for who he was, what he did, what he could accomplish. And, for the most part, he fit those expectations pretty well. A useless metalhead who spent more time focusing on “cultist” roleplaying games and drug dealing than trying to graduate high school. Truthfully, he did care about graduating, about making more friends, but it was always easier to play the part of the Freak than try and conform.

Sometimes, he wished he could be the guy that could pass a class without failing it first. He wished he could effortlessly make friends, even if he didn’t always get along with everyone. He wished he could walk down the hallway without being harassed by students younger than him. He wished he could admit that he wanted to pick up girls like Nancy Wheeler, or Chrissy Cunningham, not the older women who hit on him at the Hideout.

He wanted, more than anything, to be Steve Harrington. Especially right now.

You had moved across the state to Hawkins several months ago with your father, moving in just a few doors down from the Harrington residence. Your father worked at the same company as Steve’s father, and you two had grown quite close. Steve had introduced you to his friend Robin and drove you both to school most mornings. He had also made it a habit to walk you to your locker and your first class before leaving for work. Eddie’s locker was across from yours in the wide hallway, meaning he got to witness your flustered reactions to Steve’s banter almost every day for the past semester. He hated it, but it was like a bad car crash – he simply couldn’t look away. Sometimes he wondered if he purposely sought out his own misery.

You stood with your head rested against the locker next to yours, looking at Steve who spoke to you with his hand holding onto your open locker door, where you had taped up an old picture of Paul McCartney with heart stickers.

It was stupid, really. Eddie had no chance with someone like you, least of all when Harrington was making you blush and look down at your feet regularly. Of course it was Paul McCartney. And of course it was Steve Harrington.

Eddie was infatuated with you, everything about you, from the minute he laid eyes on you. The way you always found a way to wear yellow and make it look good. The way your hair curled back like Farrah Fawcett’s. The way your eyes scrunched up and your head tilted back when you laughed. Your cherry-red nails and pink-tinted lips from your strawberry chapstick. He knew your taste in music was ridiculous: Queen, Fleetwood Mac, Chicago, The Beatles. But he knew he would listen to all of it, every second, for the rest of his life if it meant spending time with you. He was fairly certain he could talk you into listening to some of his music – Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, - but thoughts like that just led to more unrealistic daydreams, and certainly daydreams he didn’t need to be thinking about during school hours.

Eddie watched as Steve leaned in and whispered something in your ear, tucking your feathered hair behind it softly. He was holding up a tape from your Walkman in his other hand, and your eyes went wide. You covered your mouth and giggled, and Eddie could have sworn that you glanced up at him for a fraction of a second. So quickly it was imperceptible. You playfully hit Steve on the arm and grabbed at the tape. He held it above your head and laughed at your feeble attempts to reach it until he eventually gave in and tossed it back to you. You quickly shoved the tape back into your Walkman and slid the headphones over your ears, flipping Steve off as he walked backwards towards the door, saying something neither you nor Eddie could fully make out, before turning and leaving. You rolled your eyes and began walking toward Eddie with a smile on your face, adjusting the headphones on top of your head. Eddie’s heart sped up and he held his breath softly until you turned and walked into a classroom. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

He could hardly focus during his first class, replaying that split second of eye contact that he wasn’t even confident was real. Was Steve making fun of him? Was Steve teasing you about him? Eddie thought of all the reasons he may have been part of that sickeningly sweet display this morning, all the ways he could have been mentioned. Most of the ones he could think of were not flattering or kind, but he had come to expect that from people like Steve.

Second period wasn’t any easier to focus. Why was your cassette important? Surely Steve wouldn’t be teasing you about your taste in music, would he? Eddie thought about what music it might be and why you snatched it from Steve’s hands so fast, looking around to make sure nobody had heard your interaction. Maybe that’s why you had looked at Eddie. Maybe it really had nothing to do with him, you were just making sure nobody was watching you and Steve. Classic Eddie, overthinking every interaction he had with you.

He would give anything to see what was in your Walkman, what you have been listening to all morning.

Today was Eddie’s lucky day.

As he walked into his third class of the day, the class from which you were just exiting, he noticed your Walkman sitting in the basket underneath the desk. It was unmistakably yours, with your name painted on the side in bright yellow letters. Normally, he would grab it and chase you down to give it to you. And he should, he really should, but his intrusive thoughts took over, and he found himself sitting in the seat, guarding the player with his life until the very end of class. He preoccupied his thoughts with what he thought would be in there, driving himself mad with thoughts of you listening to various different pop albums, dancing in your bedroom. What he wouldn’t give to see your bedroom, too.

Eddie cut off his thoughts and tried to focus on class, more for the distraction than anything. As soon as the bell rang, he slipped your Walkman into his bag before anyone could notice and made a beeline for the bathroom. He casually walked into an empty stall, locking the door behind him and dropping his bag to the floor. He took your Walkman out from the bag and pulled out the cassette, his heart racing.

Classics of the 50’s, of course. He wasn’t surprised in the least. He let out a small chuckle.

“The Teen Queens?” Eddie whispered. “This looks old as shit.” He rolled his eyes endearingly and popped the cassette back in, slipping the headphones over his ears.

The first track played, already a few seconds in.

Eddie my love, I love you so How I've waited for you you'll never know Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long

Eddie couldn’t help the full-body blush that washed over him or the stupid grin than took over his face. It was ridiculous. There was absolutely no way you were listening to an old do-wop love song because it had his name in it. That wasn’t possible. You had to be listening to any number of other songs on this cassette, which he could tell you loved judging by the scratches on the front. He thought back to your quick glance this morning, and Steve’s teasing. He shook the thoughts from his head.

Either way, whether it was for him or not, he found himself pressing rewind and listening to the song roar back to life. He closed his eyes softly and imagined what your prom dress might look like a month from now, how crazy he would look next to you slow dancing to this, with your arms around his neck, his hands on your waist. What corsage he would get you. He felt himself slightly swaying, getting into the music, before his thoughts drifted to you dancing with Steve, with Jason Carver, with anyone more suited to have the honor of dancing with you. He tried to ignore the pestering thoughts when the next song kicked in, “So All Alone”.

How appropriate.

He rewound the tape and cut it off with a loud click. He heard the hallways come back to life with students headed to lunch. “Shit.” He said out loud. Now he had your cassette. Now he had to find some way to give it to you.

Eddie sat at the Hellfire table, turning a pretzel over and over between his two fingers. His head was tilted down as if he was contemplating the pretzel, but his eyes were looking up through his bangs towards where you sat next to Robin. He thought of your music still in his bag. He knew he should return it, but the longer he had it, the weirder it would be that he had kept it this long. The more people would probably think he planned on stealing it for good. He resolved to return it to you at the end of the day and mention that he had trouble finding you, that he didn’t have time, that he forgot he had it – any obvious lie to get him off the hook for listening to your tape without asking. For daydreaming while listening to your tape. In the empty bathroom. Without asking. He was a creep and there was no excuse, really, but he couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face when he thought about the song, about you listening to any song with his name associated with love. He thought about you calling him “my love”.

“Eddie? You home?” Dustin waved his hand in front of Eddie’s face, and it took Eddie a split second to break himself from his thoughts, the tips of his ears a deep red under his mop of hair. He realized he had been completely ignoring everything said to him throughout most of lunch, staring at you across the lunchroom with a dopey grin. Shit. He was definitely a creep.

Dustin followed Eddie’s line of sight over to your table and then looked back to Eddie with a furrowed brow.

“Y/N and Robin?” Dustin questioned quietly, but not quietly enough. Eddie’s eyes went comically wide and he snapped his head down to his lunch in front of him.

“Shut up you goblin.” Eddie scolded Dustin under his breath. The rest of the guys at the Hellfire table looked over, quite obviously, towards you and Robin.

“Don’t look you idiots!” Eddie turned to look at Jeff as if they were in conversation when you looked up.

“Isn’t she with Harrington?” Jeff pipes up after a moment, and Eddie’s foot finds his leg under the table, giving a swift kick.

“I just… I found her Walkman today in class and I haven’t had time to return it to her. I was just waiting for the right time.” Eddie admitted, looking at his friends, who clearly didn’t believe that was the only reason he was staring at you.

“Well, hey, if you need, I can just give it to her when Steve picks us up after school.” Dustin offered casually, but Eddie didn’t miss the glint in his eye. Eddie’s immediate reaction was to tell him absolutely not, that he wanted to give it to you. But he could tell Dustin was waiting for that response. Besides, the more he made a big deal about the cassette, the more Dustin would be curious and figure out Eddie’s internal crisis. So Eddie took a deep breath, plastered on his best indifferent face, and said “yeah okay, sure. Thanks man.” And went back to his pretzels. Dustin’s face fell slightly.

The second the last bell rang, Eddie nervously walked over to his locker. He knew Dustin would be there shortly to pick up your Walkman. Eddie didn’t want to give it up. He wanted to steal the cassette for himself and listen to it every day, pretending that you listened to it just for him. Out of all the girls he’d ever met at Hawkins High, or anywhere, really, you were the only one that had completely disrupted his life. You were the only one who could get him to buy strawberry chapstick, or consider that yellow might be his new favorite color. You were the only one who could get him to listen to anything without heavy metal guitair.

“Hey, Eddie.” Dustin called out as he approached Eddie’s locker. “Got Y/N’s Walkman?”

“Yeah, here.” Eddie said in a hushed tone. “Uh, Henderson, I’ve got a question.” Eddie continued. He hadn’t meant to say anything, but his intrusive thoughts were winning again, and he couldn’t handle not knowing the truth.

“Sure?” Dustin replied somewhat skeptically, looking up at Eddie with an eyebrow raised.

“Y/N and Harrington… Are they….” Eddie trailed off, giving a look to Dustin that read ‘you know what I mean’.

“Are they dating?” Dustin asked quietly, and Eddie could only manage a small nod. He kept his face as neutral as he could, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He could not believe he just asked that. He had much more confidence than he had any right to have.

“No.” Dustin said, and Eddie relaxed. “Not yet.” Eddie tensed again.

“You fuckin’ serious, Henderson?” Eddie whined, and Dustin laughed, taking the Walkman from Eddie. Eddie huffed and opened his locker, avoiding Dustin’s gaze. He tried to calm his breathing, hoping and praying that if he kept his cool, Dustin wouldn’t investigate further. It was an innocent question.

“I was just curious. It seemed like they were. And, well, you know Harrington.” Eddie mumbled in his defense, and Dustin rolled his eyes.

Dustin looked at Eddie unintentionally eyeing the Walkman he now held, with a look of desperation.

“You sure you just don’t want to give it to her?” Dustin asked, and Eddie furiously shook his head

“No, no. It’s better that you do it. She’ll probably think I stole it or something. Or did something weird to it.” Eddie reasoned.

“Well, did you?” Dustin asked, and Eddie blanched. He didn’t technically steal anything, and he didn’t technically do anything weird to the player. Right?

“Uh- N- No. Of course not. She just left it behind in class. She’s probably been looking for it all day.”

Dustin smiled, watching Eddie stare at nothing in his locker for a humorously long amount of time. Dustin silently popped the cassette out of the player, wondering what you had been listening to, and if this was somehow contributing to Eddie’s odd behavior. Sure, he always seemed like he had the hots for you, but today he was extra spacey and obvious.

“The Teen Queens?” Dustin asked out loud, and Eddie’s head immediately snapped over to look down at him. He grabbed for the tape but Dustin stepped out of the way.

“Eddie my love?” Dustin asked incredulously. “Holy shit! Steve was right!” Dustin laughed, and then looked up at Eddie, almost apologetically. Eddie froze completely in his desperation to snatch the tape out of Dustin’s grasp.

“Steve was right? About?” Eddie asked after a moment of silence. Dustin smiled but looked somewhat guilty, like he had said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I’m so dead.” Dustin muttered as he tore out of the school towards Steve’s car.

“Henderson! Get your ass back here!” Eddie yelled as he ran after him, voice ringing through the hallway as their tennis shoes squeaked on the floor.

Running out to the parking lot, Eddie hot on his heels, Dustin slid the tape back into your Walkman and shoved it into Robin’s hands as he dove into Steve’s car, slamming and locking the door behind him. Eddie slowed down as he saw you approaching the car, and quickly smoothed out his hair, trying to act casual.

“Hey, look! Dustin found your Walkman.” Robin smiled, looking up at Eddie and holding your Walkman out towards you.

“Thank God! I was looking for it all day!” you sighed in relief.

“Important cassette in there. You better be careful.” Robin added, and your face turned a shade of red that Eddie had never seen before.

“You, uh, left it in class,” Eddie added, hoping to give himself some hero credit, but you just turned even redder. You sputtered out a thank you and climbed into Steve’s car, Robin following.

“Later Munson,” Steve called out as he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Eddie standing there in disbelief. Was it true?

Eddie, my love

I love you so

Eddie was supposed to be doing something, anything productive, but instead he sat hand sewing a new patch to his vest while listening to the cassette repeatedly. It had been two days since he had found your Walkman. He spent the better part of his Friday evening searching high and low for a copy of the cassette, which he eventually found at a place a little closer to the city. The domesticity of it all was truly sickening, even Eddie could agree, but his heart was in an endless pattern of fluttering and dropping, thinking about the rare possibility you actually liked him.

Eddie was torn from his thoughts by the piercing ring of the phone. He rushed over, desperately grasping it from the wall to answer, hoping for some reason that it would be you. He heard familiar giggling on the other end, and he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want, shit for brains?” Eddie grumbled, but he was still smiling.

“Who are you and what happened to the real Eddie Munson?” the voice said on the other end. “Is everything okay?” she was joking but sounded slightly concerned.

“Yes, Max, everything is fine. Why?” Eddie questioned, and then realized he had been playing the music out loud with the windows open. Very open.

“Because it sounds like some grandma music in there,” Max replied before Eddie could try to defend himself.

“Mind your business,” Eddie muttered and clicked off the cassette. “Better?”

“Thank God. Play something more metal,” Max said, and then hung up the phone. Eddie rolled his eyes and switched the tapes to one he thought would be appropriate enough for Max.

The following Monday, Eddie couldn’t seem to keep his stomach from flipping as he stood by his locker, watching you and Steve have your morning chat. He was telling you something very adamantly, and you were shaking your head repeatedly. He saw you take your Walkman out of your backpack and his heart skipped.

You continued your light argument with Steve and eventually walked away, leaving him standing alone at your locker. To Eddie’s disappointment, it didn’t seem like a very serious argument, more friendly. He looked back quickly at his locker as if he hadn’t just been outright staring at the pair of you, but he felt guilty, immediately.

“Edward, let’s talk.” Eddie heard a voice from behind him and he jumped.

“Jesus, Robin. Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“Ask her out. Please.” Robin said, though it sounded more like a demand than a request.

“Who?” Eddie questioned, playing dumb.

“You know exactly who I am talking about,” Robin deadpanned, and Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Robin sounded exasperated, closing her eyes.

“There’s no way she’d want me.” Eddie didn’t mean for it to sound so pathetic, but it did. And he had no idea why he was admitting anything to Robin, who was barely a friend of his at all.

“How do you know?” She asked curiously. Eddie could tell she was trying her best to be supportive, but all he wanted was for her to disappear.

“She’s so… I don’t know… Bubbly? Happy? Cute? I mean, she listens to 50′s classics–“ Eddie abruptly cut himself off.

“You DID snoop!” Robin’s mouth opened wide, and she jabbed a finger out at Eddie.

“I may have seen the tape... So?” Eddie defended.

“And then you bought the exact same one? That doesn’t sound like your style of music, Ed.” Robin added, sounding like she was an attorney questioning a witness, and Eddie stared at her. “I mean, 15 times, that’s quite a lot for one song.” She tried to keep her composure but she let out a little chuckle. It took Eddie a moment to register.

“That little shit! I’m boarding up her fucking window tomorrow!” Eddie groaned. There was no actual malice behind it, but Robin could tell he was becoming extremely embarrassed. Eddie wished he could crawl in his locker.

“Look, I’m not trying to torture you here. All I’m saying is, whatever you’re thinking about the song, you’re correct. And Steve is nowhere in the picture, at all. There are certain people at this school who don’t hate Eddie Munson, maybe even like him a little.” She shrugged and stared at Eddie, waiting for a response. She made no indication that she planned on leaving until he responded.

“Goddamnit. Okay!” Eddie said after a few uncomfortable moments of Robin’s eyes on him.

“Good,” she smiled and walked past Eddie into the classroom.

“Thanks, I guess,” Eddie muttered, though Robin didn’t hear him.

Eddie was going to wait until the end of the day, but he couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart, especially with Robin looking at him expectantly every time she saw him. He never realized how many times in a day he truly ran into Robin until now. He waited until he saw you stand up and clear your spot, exiting the lunchroom, before he made a move.

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” he muttered under his breath, standing up to follow you. When he stood up, Dustin gave him a questioning smile. Eddie sighed and nodded his head. Dustin turned to look at Mike, and Max a few tables away, who perked up and gave a thumbs up to Eddie. He needed friends his own age.

Eddie walked somewhat quickly out of the lunchroom and to the hallway, heading towards your locker. You stood there looking at something in a textbook, chewing a pencil in between your soft lips. Eddie’s breath stopped short.

“Uh, Y/N.” Eddie started, still standing several feet away from you. You turned around and gave him a warm smile.

“Yeah? What’s up?” you asked, shutting the textbook and setting it back in your locker.

“You left your Walkman yesterday in Mr. Hill’s class,” Eddie stated, walking closer.

“I’m aware,” you laughed, finding his awkwardness endearing.

“Oh, I know, uh, I was just saying that, uh, I’m sorry. I should have given it to you sooner, but I maybe took a peek inside to see what you were listening to. That wasn’t cool of me, I should have grabbed it and chased you down or something.” Eddie admitted, and your face turned white.

“You… saw my cassette?” you asked weakly, and Eddie nodded, smiling. He had a small burst of hope that Robin wasn’t completely lying to him.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s no Metallica, but it wasn’t bad,” Eddie shrugged. Your eyes went wide.

“You listened to it?” Your hands went up to cover the redness and heat of your cheeks.

“Well of course I did. I kind of like you, and I wanted to see what you listened to.” Eddie looked at something behind your head, because he knew if he looked at your flushed face and gaping mouth he would be too far gone to continue asking you out. After a brief moment of silence, he continued, feeling a surge of bravery.

“I don’t know if it’s too early or too late to ask this, I mean I’ve never really done it, I’ve never even actually gone but-“ Eddie began, then cut himself off to take a breath. “Would you want to go to Prom with me next month?”

Eddie had only meant to ask you for a dinner date, something small, but again, his thoughts won over. You sucked in a squeaky breath.

“Yes. I would love to.” A huge smile broke across your face, and Eddie almost couldn’t believe it. But, of course, he was willing to push his luck a little.

“And maybe, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you want to hang out sometime before then? Like this weekend?” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling hopefully.

“Hell yeah-“ you blurted out and your hand slapped over your mouth. “I mean, absolutely!” You and Eddie both laughed and you loosely wrapped an arm around him. He leaned down, his face suffocatingly close to yours, in the best kind of way.

Before either of you knew it, your lips were connected softly. Eddie’s heart raced. If only you weren’t right in the middle of the school hallway. You smiled into the kiss.

A few seconds in, the bell rang. Eddie expected you to jump away from him, to shy away from receiving physical affection from the Freak, but you kept your arms around him and placed a chaste kiss to both his cheeks as the hallway flooded with students heading back to class.

And Robin was right, there were people at this school that didn’t hate Eddie Munson, maybe even loved him.

#stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagines #i love the idea of writing neighbor!max and eddie #sorry this is so long #i havent written in such a long time I miss it so much #if I do a part 2 it will either be the events from your POV or an extension where you go to prom?#maybe #probably not

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