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spitdrunken · 7 months

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Cream and Ice (Candy Queen x Reader / Winter King x Reader)

wordcount: 13k, NSFW. summary: As the ruler of an entire kingdom, the Winter King is a busy man. You'll spend the rest of your life being thankful to him for rescuing you from the freezing cold as he did. Still, it does get lonely, sometimes. The Candy Queen is even more eager for company than you, and at least twice as lonely. You've been 'kidnapped' by her more times than you can count, and have grown to appreciate her company. All of the Winter King's warnings you've long since disregarded, since you've never actually gotten hurt. When, one day, you bite off more than you can chew—or, rather, swallow,—the Winter King is the only one who can save you. See the full tags on ao3, here!

The snow crunches underneath your feet, the cold wind penetrating even through the many clothes the Winter King has provided you with. The cold had never been a factor he had to consider for himself, or his subjects, but you are a different story. It’s fine, you know you’ll be leaving this place soon, even if just for a little bit. As you walk the streets of the Winter Kingdom, you feel the inhabitants’ gazes follow your forms, and hushed whispers trail in your wake.

It’s fine if they see. You can never be quiet here, and you need the Winter King to hear about your departure eventually. Otherwise, he’ll never come to pick you up. And you’ve never actually returned from Candy’s, as she’s told you to call her, home on your own.

You don’t know exactly when being kidnapped by Candy turned into something else, but it has. There’s no need for her to put you in a cage anymore, and the two of you actually chat. Sure, you have the Winter King, but he gets busy, and the rest of his subjects are… You don’t know how to put it. There is a hollowness behind many of their eyes. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to, even if her ways are rather eccentric. But, really, who are you to judge in this situation? You are not from this world, and your definition from sanity might not align with the one the Land of Ooo. Even then, the many warnings you’d received from the Winter King would suggest otherwise.

He can warn you about her obsession and unpredictability, but he never seems particularly concerned about her. Maybe you should be, as a human without magic, but being ‘rescued’ has grown into such a nonchalant affair that you can’t be bothered. She doesn’t seem much interested in anything besides the Winter King, so you don’t think she really cares about hurting you. Her mood often swings, yes, but it also isn’t hard to flip her back around.

This is what you think about, as you wait underneath the pine-scented trees. The smell is pervasive, practically too strong, when you are standing underneath clumps of them. You have to walk to the edge of the kingdom, otherwise the alarms would go off, and that would create too much of a fuss for your liking. The Winter King is busy right now. You guess he’s fiddling with something in his laboratory, or ‘fixing’ something about his kingdom that no one but him had ever seen issue with.

You hear Candy before you see her, as you do every time. Her presence is accompanied by the pounding of her legs on the thread mill, the groaning of the subjects that carry her, and bouts of laughter that ring through the air. The same time you see the contraption she calls an aircraft soar through the air, she yells out your name while waving both of her arms at you.

“Hiiii!” She says as she lowers her contraption. “C’mere, we’ve gotta go quick!”

As soon as you approach, your own greeting ready on your tongue, the arm on her machine snags you up the floor, and chucks you into the air. The yell you let out only makes her laugh harder, but she catches you in her arms without effort, and puts you on the floor, your back resting against one of the candy canes that decorate the side of the ship. She is a lot stronger than she looks. Your heart is still busy trying to escape your ribcage, and you wheeze out a breath.

“Please never do that again,” you tell her. One of your hands is firmly wrapped around the candy cane for support.

She winks at you and sticks her tongue out. “No promises, sorry! Need to get home, quick!” As she starts to run again, she keeps her gaze focused on you. You don’t know how she manages to keep an eye on you and steer the machine at the same time, but you don’t try to think too hard about it. Just as you try not to think about the fact this whole thing is made up out of living creatures. When you’d asked her about it, Candy had told you that they definitely agreed to this, they always wanna do everything for her!

“Did you get the gooooods?” She drawls out the last word as if she’s drunk, bouncing on the balls of her feet, learning over towards you. From experience, you know that she’ll start patting you down if you don’t hand them over soon enough. As she stops running, the machine stutters and loses altitude, only rising again when she lets out a ‘whoops!’ and starts running again. That’s the second time today you’ve felt the ground fall away underneath your feet, and you’d like it to be the last. Perhaps you should really start reconsidering whether these visits or worth it.

But Candy smiles wide at you, giving you her undivided attention, and even though you know she cares more about your usual company than you, you’ve still become a little fond of her. She doesn’t have anyone, it seems. If things had gone differently for you, you would have been just as alone as her.

You take a moment to catch your breath. “I’ll give them once we’re at your place, okay?” Your nails scratch at the smooth surface of your one lifeline on this ship. “You know flying makes me a bit nervous.” The wind whips past your face. Even as you are higher off the ground than you were before, it’s warmer than the one blowing through the Winter Kingdom.

Though she doesn’t agree one way or the other, Candy’s legs moving even faster are a clear indication she understands the program. “You say you’re scared or whatever, but you get on every time anyway! They say I’m the crazy one, but you should make up your mind, too!” With the back of her hand, she wipes the sweat off of her brow.

You can’t say it’s ever the smoothest ride, but it’s always a fast one. The machine lurches left and right as you land, and you cling on for dear life, as it crashes into the ground. As the groans of the banana-people, whatever their name may be, ring out, you know you’ve made a safe landing. Without fail, Candy clambers down her servants without sparing a glance or a thought towards them, digging her heel into their faces and mushing them up. You’d jump down if it weren’t too high. You’re forced to do the same, but you at least think you’re a bit more polite about it, since you apologise.

Candy waits for you in front of her door. “So? So?” Candy leans in close towards you, standing on the tips of her toes. Her eyes are blown wide and twinkle with excitement, her nose almost poking yours. It’s endearing, despite knowing the reason for her delight.

You dig around in your pockets, and her a few pictures you made from the Winter King. They are better than the ones she has adorning your walls, as those were made in secret. These weren’t. The Winter King is always more than happy to pose for a picture, and he’ll even ask you to take some if he’s made himself a new outfit, to most accurately judge himself from every angle. Perhaps it’s not the most moral thing to do, feeding into her obsession like this, but it’d continue regardless of what you did.

“Here you go,” you say, handing her the little stack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She squeals, hugging the pictures to her chest and twirling around on the tips of her toes. A few pieces of candy shoot out from the tips of her fingers. They clatter to the floor, completely unnoticed by her. “You always get such good ones! I loooove it! Gotta put them up right now!”

She skips like a schoolgirl all the way towards her room, and you have to keep up at a brisk walking pace. Every time you enter, you try to ignore the giant cage in the corner of the room, but you never quite succeed.

“Put them in your diary, and not on the wall, okay?” She practically has a shrine dedicated to the Winter King on her wall, but you don’t need your pictures to be added to that. You have no interest in answering his questions about how she got her hands on them.

“Yeah, yeah, mom.” You can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “’S not like you gotta tell me that every time.”

You huff out a breath of air through your nose. “If he sees them, that’s the end of it. You’ll have to start taking them yourself again.”

As she walks past her keyboard, her back turned to you, she flings her fist on it. The discordant noise clangs together, loud, but harmless. “Fiiiiine. Yours aren’t big enough for posters, anyway. They’d look bad next to mine.”

Candy flops down on her bed, landing on her stomach. She reaches underneath her pillow for a diary that has become a familiar sigh to you. Pictures stick from the borders of the pages from every side, and multiple of them are stuck together with pink gum. The front has something scrawled on it that you’ve never been able to make out. You watch as she shifts through your pictures, sighing longingly at every single one of them, while kicking her feet in the air. To stick them to the paper, she pulls a piece of gum out of her hair. It’d surprised you the first time you saw it, but it’s clear it doesn’t hurt her whatsoever.

“Do you like them?” You ask, and she hums loudly in response. It really is surprising she doesn’t try to maul you over how much time you spend with her ‘love’, but you’ve come to terms with the fact you’ll never be able to follow her line of thought.

As you watch her like this, so hopelessly head over heels for someone who sees her as nothing more than a nuisance, your heart clenches. The Winter King describes her as the Kingdom’s sole and greatest enemy. He derides her unpredictability, her madness, as he calls it, and her twisted affection. But as you’ve spend time here in the Candy Kingdom, you’ve come to think that her behaviour is simply part of her species. You’ve never met a subject of hers, servant or otherwise, that acted unlike her. If that simply is the way she was born, the way she’s supposed to be, you can’t bring yourself to blame her for it. The Winter King always seems to leave her clutches unscathed, the same as you have.

You sit down on the floor next to her bed, leaning the back of your head against her mattress. The cover sticks a little your hair. You stare at the wall opposite of her bed, plastered with images of the Winter King. The sea of blue stands in harsh contrast with pinks of the rest of her decor. Without thinking, you sigh.

Wouldn’t it be so much better if she had an interest in someone else, if she pursued someone had a chance of returning her feelings? There has to be a perfect match out there for her, in this whole wide world. You just know that it isn’t the Winter King. He won’t care about her, not ever. He’s spelled it out for her so many times. But time and time again, she pursues him in her own way, and time and time again, she is rejected. You can’t grasp how she can cope with it, given her feelings are so all-consuming.

“Candy?” You crane your head upwards, and you can just barely see her legs still swishing in the air.

“Wait. I’m having a moment.” She lets out a scream that she muffles with her pillow. The whole bed bounces up and down behind as she kicks strongly into the mattress, squealing the whole time. One of her feet whizzes just over your head as she rolls from left to right. She must have found a picture she particularly likes. You’re curious which one it is, but she doesn’t let you look at them once she’s glued them to her diary. She exhales loudly, and the bed gives a final creak.

“Okay. Moment over.”

You know you are treading onto uneven ground here. One of the first lessons the Winter King taught you upon taking you in, was the look of a frozen lake that might give away underneath your feet. Now, it feels like you are jumping onto one of the exact spots he told you to avoid. To the right of your head, you see the tip of her boot peeking over the side of her bed. It bobs up and down, up and down.

“What do you like so much about the Winter King, anyway?”

Her foot stops moving. The entire bed goes still. In tandem, you start to think of escapes out of this conversation. Candy, however, only hums in response. First in thought and, after a few seconds, she makes a silly little tune out of it. She must be working on a new original. Whenever she does, she can’t get it out of her head for days, or so she’s told you.

“I dunno! That’s a mean question, ‘cause I can’t just pick one thing. I like… Everything! I think. I need us to be together, forever!” She sucks on her bottom lip, and releases it with a pop. “He’s stuck in my brain, like… A stick inside a lollipop! Part of the same thing.”

You can feel her moving, but you still jump as Candy hangs over you, all at once. Her hair is almost like a wall with the way it hangs past your sides, caging you in between her and the bed. “But why do you wanna know so bad, hmmm?” She’s still smiling, and that’s a good thing. You think. With her being upside down, it’s difficult to tell if she’s really smiling in the first place, or baring her fangs. She squints at you. “What are you trying to do? You can’t have him. He’s mine, you ding dong!”

Despite yourself, you freeze up. Those teeth of hers always look so much sharper up close. The familiar warnings, the ones that you could recite by heart at this point, ring out in your ear. Unlike the Winter King however, you’ve actually tried to hold a conversation with Candy before. You know how to handle her, in a sense, without the situation escalating any further.

Without hesitation, you stick out your finger, and press the tip of it to her nose. “Boop.”

There is a beat of silence. Then, she dissolves into a fit of giggles, her whole chest rising and falling with her laughter. You smile back at her. As she laughs harder, her whole physical form melts away into glowing, pink goo. You shudder as Candy drips down your shoulders and over the front of your shirt. Thankfully, that form of hers never leaves any residue. You’d have no clue how to explain those stains. All of her gathers up on the floor, in between your knees. You spread your legs wider, just as Candy forms back into her usual appearance.

“Boop!” The tip of her fingers finds your nose, just as you’d done moments prior. Her knees bump against the insides of your thighs, and her nose nearly pokes your cheek. With every inhale, all you can smell is cotton candy. You don’t mind the closeness. She is always clingy, albeit in her own way. “You’re so silly. I like that about you.” Candy tilts her head to the side, her smile and eyes widening. “But I was being serious.”

“I know you were,” you tell her. A packaged piece of candy dangles out of her hair, almost falling out, and you carefully push it back in. She doesn’t even blink. “I didn’t walk to talk about him, though. I wanted to talk about you, Candy.”

She blinks owlishly at you. The corners of her mouth droop, but she doesn’t quite loser her smile. She shakes her head, then opens her mouth, and starts to pick something out from between her teeth with her fingernail. Candy must have not been listening at all.

“Go on,” she says, proving you wrong. The words come out distorted, as she doesn’t bother to take her finger out of her mouth as she speaks.

“I get that you really, really like the Winter King. Like, a lot. But don’t you think you could try and get over him, to find someone who’s better for you?”

Candy throws her head backs, and laughs. And laughs, and laughs. At the sudden jerk of her head, she cut an indent into her finger. She doesn’t bleed, however. Right in front of your eyes, her ‘skin’ merely closes shut again. Her laughter continues on, and its loud enough to make your ears ring. Every breath of hers is a desperate wheeze. With how much she’s shaking, you can only pity her ribs and guts. …If she has them, that is.

She sighs loudly as she sits upright again, and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “That’s the hardest I’ve laughed in years! Better?! Lemme know when you find one!” She rests her elbow on her knee, then leans her cheek on her hand. “He’s the one I need.”

“But that doesn’t it hurt, always getting rejected?” You cannot stop the hint of desperation entering your voice. There has to be a better life for her out there, better than whatever this is. “You’re pretty, Candy. And sweet, too, obviously. I’m sure there’s someone out there, who can really appreciate you, and who is more like you. I think you deserve that. I… I want you to be happy.” With Candy, you’ve learned to spell out what you’re trying to say as literally as possible, lest she misunderstand.

You pity her, this girl, alone in her kingdom, with no one but her servants for company, endlessly chasing a man who will never give her the time of day. She deserves understanding. It has to be a lonely existence, going without it. Candy’s expression shifts, her face going entirely blank. “I can’t be. Not until I have him.” As soon as the moment comes, it’s over, and you have no time to process it. She bursts into high-pitched giggles and slings an arm around the back of your neck before throwing herself firmly into your lap.

“Candy!” You sputter, trying to turn your head away from her. As soon as you try though, she places a hand on your cheek, and forces you to look her in the eye again. Your face heats up underneath her touch. She pinches your skin between two of her fingers, and pulls on it. She ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’s at the consistency and texture of your skin. You swallow. Do you hate this? …No, you hesitantly admit to yourself. It’s definitely not the kind of message you were trying to get across, though!

Her eyes slide half-shut, her smile lopsided and soft around the edges. “Hehe. I thought you wanted to talk about me, but what you really wanted was me, huuh?” She puts both of her hands on your face, and squishes. “I’m prettyyyy, I’m sweeeeeet! You said so!” She repeats after you, before bursting into giggles again. “I’m sorry, sugar, but my heart has already been stolen!” One of her hands slowly slides down your cheek.

“Um… Well, what I was trying to say was— Mrph!” She slaps her palm over your mouth, cutting off the rest of your sentence.

“No need to say anything more, baby!” Candy laughs again. She leans forward, burying her nose in the crook of her neck, and inhaling deeply. “Hmmm, but I do like you. You’re a lot warmer. But you smell a little like him… Like chocolate milk, and pine trees— But still different.”

So many conflicting thoughts and feelings are rushing through you. Your face is burning up, and your stomach’s tied in knots. Wherever she touches you, her skin sticks to yours. Even as you squirm underneath her, Candy doesn’t budge in the slightest. You’re trapped. You gasp as you feel one of her fangs brush against your throat, and you can feel her grinning against your skin.

“Candy, you’re a bit too close…!” You squeak as you wheeze out the air in your lungs. She sticks her tongue out, and licks a stripe up the side of your neck, slow and deliberate.

Of course, it’s this exact moment that the Winter King makes his dramatic entrance, with a bang and a flourish. It’s nothing different from what you expect during your bi-weekly rescue. He throws his hair back as little pieces of ice sparkle in the air around him. His eyes are closed, one leg in front of the other. One hand is firmly closed around the hilt of his blade. All of this you can just barely make out in between Candy’s gravity-defying hair.

“Fair maiden, I have come to…” As the Winter King opens his eyes, the rest of his sentence dies in his throat. You’ve never seen him caught quite this off-guard before. The tip of his blade, that he’d just pulled from its sheath, droops and points to the floor. His mouth is hanging open. You’d spend more time burning the image into your mind, if 90% of your brain wasn’t busy wishing you could melt into a puddle on the floor like Candy could. He shakes his head, in a jerky, twitchy fashion, like he’s forcefully pulling himself back to reality.

Candy dislodges herself from your throat, smiling up at you. “It’s always a good idea to take you first! My baby always stops by, and then I get to see the both of you… If I just take him, you’d never show up!” You have to admit that she’s completely right about that observation.

“Unhand her, you fiend!” However much he’d been rattled before, the Winter King easily slips back into his character. His pose is, once again, as poised as ever. His eyes drift from yours to Candy, and back up again. “What’s the meaning of this?” He continues, his voice a lot more softer. It lacks his usual flair or dramatics and, for that exact reason, you swallow.

Candy detaches herself from your neck, and winks at you. “One moment, sugar.” She folds herself backward, landing on her hands, and looking at the Winter King while upside down. You watch with a mixture of horror and fascination. Whatever is inside her body, it can’t be a spine. She’s found the one way to look her ‘beloved’ in the eye, while continuing to straddle you.

“No meaning! She just told me I’m pretty, heehee! And sweet, too. It was really, really nice!” You can practically hear the pout in her voice as she continues to speak. “You could be a bit nicer to me, too, baby! Really, your little snowflake is a lot sweeter than you— And, since you’re my husband, that’s just plain wrong!”

“Ah. Is she, now?” The Winter King smiles and tilts his head a little to the left. He takes a step forward, and then another. His sword he lowers back down to his side. Goosebumps rush up your arms and legs from the sudden shift in the room’s temperature. When you let out a shuddering sigh, your breath forms a puff of white smoke in the air.

Right now, the Winter King unnerves you far more than Candy ever has.

Candy allows him to approach, making grabby hands at his ankles as he gets near. He remains just barely outside of her reach. Rather than pay her any mind, his focus is centered solely on you. You’re pinned down underneath his gaze. You’re not actually scared, you chastise yourself, you shouldn’t be! The knots in your stomach, and the rising of the hair on your arms, all of it is from something else. It doesn’t make any sense. You’re guilty about losing the approval of the one who has done so much for you, who took you in when you had nowhere else to go, in this world that is so unfamiliar to you. That’s all there is to it.

“I don’t know what kind of cotton candy nonsense she’s been spinning inside your head, dear, but I’d say it’s time we head home. Don’t you agree?”

Your tongue is tied. Candy’s eyes are unfocused, one of her eyeballs rolled up to focus on the Winter King, while the other looks at you. She starts to giggle, grin widening far enough to show off all of her fangs. You don’t trust the look on her face. Being around him always brings out the worst in her, without fail. Her legs tighten around your waist, the fingers that had been resting on your thighs dig into the skin. In a single, fluid motion, Candy shoots back up, and slams her mouth against yours.

“Mpphrph!” You cry out, eyes wide. Despite the unmistakable pressure of her lips against yours, it doesn’t feel like a kiss, exactly. She practically hit your lips with hers, and you feel like the skin is going to bruise. Even now, the pressure that she’s applying is far too strong to resemble anything intimate. Her aim hadn’t been quite right, either. Only about half of her mouth is actually over yours, and her fangs nick your bottom lip. She smiles against your mouth.

Taking advantage of your surprise, she shoves her tongue in between your parted lips. It’s long and smooth, without any of the ridges or bumps of a human tongue. The flavour of it is saccharine, the kind of sweetness that makes you think of rotting teeth. It goes in deep, so deep that it has your gag reflex protesting around her. Before the situation goes dire, however, the intrusion dissolves. It’s so contrary to your expectations, that your whole body shudders. Some of the thick substance, whatever it is, immediately slides down your throat. The tip of her tongue had been poking around down there, after all. You feel her smile against your mouth.

The Winter King rips Candy away from you by the back of her clothes, and tosses her to the side like she weighs nothing. She bounces twice on the floor, before lying still. She’s still laughing, so she’s fine, you think. You shiver from the cold. The floor cracks underneath the Winter King’s feet, pieces of eyes shaped like crystals sprouting from the floor like flowers. His glasses sit slightly askew on the tip of his nose.

You speak, before he has the chance to say anything. “I feel… A little weird…” You say, head lolling to one side as if you’d lost control over your own muscles. Your head feels light and loose, connected to reality only by the thinnest of threads, while your skin feels alight and sensitive. All at once, it is purely and utterly overwhelming. A drop of drool slides down your chin, though you swore you had your mouth closed.

A muscle at the corner of his mouth twitches. Still, his smile does not fade. “Snowflake, dear. Please open your mouth for me.” Your head feels woozier by the second. Where you were cold moments prior, a thrumming heat has settled underneath your skin. You giggle. Without thinking, you open your mouth wide. He kneels in front of you.

The Winter King drags the tip of his pointer finger over your tongue. It’s so cool, it’s such a relief. You sigh out at the touch, your eyes sliding shut. When you open them again, though your eyes are still half-lidded, he is staring at his finger, brow furrowed. There’s a light pink sheen over the blue of his skin, shimmering in the light. You have no idea what it is.

He sighs, heavily and dramatically. “Diagnosis: This is bad.” He places two of his hands on your face, and you shiver with delight. You let your head hang to the side, leaning into his side. For a moment, a flicker of a smile returns to his face. “You’re burning up. Okay, I know it’s going to be a little difficult, but you have to try for me, okay?” You nod. You have no idea what he’s asking for. “Okay. You’re going to try and think: Did you swallow any of it?” His fingers press hard into your cheeks.

“Um… Maybe? I think so…” A thick fog is blanketing your every thought. Pushing your way through it is like trudging through mud, or running on sand. “She kissed me pretty deeply. I remember that. I think I was about to gag.” As soon as you can, you give up your efforts on trying to be coherent, and just nuzzle into his hands.

The Winter King gives you a little pat on the cheek before letting go. “Thank you.”

He straightens up, and any calm on his expression immediately melts away. The set of his face temporarily jolts you back to reality. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and mist wafts from his fingers. Instinctively, you scramble backwards, but your back is already against the bed. There is nowhere else you can go. But none of his anger is directed at you.

Every step towards Candy Queen is a stomp. Frost forms underneath each one of his footsteps, showing exactly where he has walked. You clamber onto Candy Queen’s bed. The whole thing is a sticky mess. It’s worth it to see what’s going on. The urge to keep your eyes on the Winter King is unbearable. You feel like you fall apart the further he is away from you. Your skin itches.

“Candy Queen,” he practically hisses out her name. “I do not care how much of a nuisance you are to me. I know you will remain that way for as long as the both of us are alive. I can tolerate her being taken, as long as I can pick her up safe and sound. But this… Feeding a mere, poor human Candy essence? Making her swallow it?” He takes another loud step, and the floor cracks underneath his feet. “Do you want her dead? Is that it? The corruption levels on someone with little to no magic exposure are far too high…!” With every word, the pitch of his voice rises.

Candy lies on her back, lazily rotating her legs in the air. “You like her more than me. I thought I’d make her more like myself!”

The Winter King runs his fingers through his hair, almost tugging, and then groans. “I don’t even know why I’m saying any of this. Why I even bother with the likes of you.”

Candy laughs once again. “You’re talking to me, because you likeee—”

“Stop laughing!” His voice thunders around the room, and you shrink back. For a moment, his teeth sharpen, and his hair lifts up and moves around as if blown by an invisible wind. In the blink of an eye, Candy’s entire body is encased in ice. He breathes heavily, then laughs. “I know you’ll survive that. It wouldn’t be the first time. Your servants will thaw you out, eventually.”

Your fingers are digging into the fabric of your clothes. You feel like a block of ice has settled in your stomach. You might be out of it, you might be feeling a bit sick, but this is too intense to pass in front of your eyes without your notice. It feels like a bucket full of ice-cold water got dumped over you while you were fast asleep, a rude awakening to reality.

The Winter King takes a stumbling step back, and grabs at his face with both hands, patting down both of his cheeks. You shuffle back. For the first time, you are scared of the power that flows through his veins. It’s not something that can only create. That, in front of you, the Winter King only makes sparkles in the air, and paths for his subjects to walk on, doesn’t mean that it can’t be turned against others, too. It’s much more than the flurries of snowflakes he amuses you with when you’re bored or homesick. The further you scramble back from him, the further the feeling inside you solidifies.

He turns on his heel and strides towards you, placing both of his hands on the foot-end of the bed, leaning forward. His eyes have always fascinated you. He has an iris and pupils like you, but they are always covered in a sheen of white. Like cataract. Still, always, you could see his eyes moving beneath this troubled layer. Now, his eyeballs are empty. There is nothing there for you to see. You tuck your legs towards you, as close as you can.

“Princess!” He calls out, and even his voice sounds unlike his own. The Winter King tilts his head to the side, almost like he is hearing something far, far away. Then, he shakes his head, and blinks. Some of the light returns to his eyes. “No… What am I saying? I…” He visibly swallows. His fingers bunch up the bedsheets underneath his touch. He doesn’t advance any further towards you, and you are thankful for it.

“I’m sorry you’ve seen me in such a state today, snowflake. It’s unbecoming. But, please, don’t look at me like that, with such fear in your eyes. Wasn’t it I, who took you in, when you had nowhere else to go? Who gave you food, shelter, and company? My home is yours. If it weren’t for me…” He inhales, long and deep. “You can trust me. I’ve shown you that you can depend on me! What have I done for you to look at me so?”

“But… But you killed her.” You say, your voice trembling. Already, you can feel the adrenaline wearing off again. Your tongue growing sluggish, the ants moving underneath your skin. Barely, you suppress the urge to whimper.

“Pah!” He laughs, loud and short. “As if that could kill her. No, no— If it could, she’d be dead a long time ago. You wouldn’t be so eager to defend her, if you knew what kind of war is being waged inside your body right now, dear!” His voice goes up in pitch, desperation clinging to the words. Then, he seems to recompose himself, yet his words are more serious than you’ve ever heard him.

In between the two of you, a shimmering illusion takes form in the air, one that you have seen so many times before. Usually, it pains quaint little images, from pine trees swishing gently in the trees, or his recreation from the supposed creatures around the Land of Ooo that he won’t let you see on your own.

“As we speak, your own body is fighting itself. You can feel it, can’t you? Your skin hurts, and your thoughts are getting more and more difficult… It’ll only grow worse. That menace will turn you into a smiling, dimwitted wreck. The longer we wait, the more of yourself you’ll lose, dear. Believe me, I had every right to get upset for your sake.”

“I-is that an accurate depiction?!” You nearly squeak.

The Winter King waves his hand. “Oh, I would call it more of an artistic one! Your situation is rather unique indeed, I had to take some liberties. But, yes, close enough.”

Your head is swimming, your pulse quick, and your breaths even quicker. “Will I… Be okay?” But now that he has mentioned them, your symptoms only seem to grow worse by the second. Your skull is too heavy for your neck, your lips to heavy to keep closed. (And, somewhere inside you, the urge for him grows. You need to be near him. You need him to touch you. You need to be one with him.)

The Winter King lifts one arm into the air and flicks his wrist, almost as if he’s trying to flick your worries away. “Shh, of course you will!” He says with a sudden air of nonchalance that has your already muddled brain even more confused. “I have a laboratory for a reason! We will need to get there, though. Like, right now.”

He walks over to the side of the bed. You no longer have any urge to turn away from him as he approaches. With every passing moment, you can feel the symptoms of the illness he described to you intensifying. It’s living, breathing proof that he’s telling the truth. You can’t forget the sight of Candy, frozen in a block of ice, on the ground. Still, he really has been the only one to ever come to your rescue. Today has thrown you off-balance, but you’re more scared of whatever parasite is wrecking its way through your body, than the man who has saved you countless times over.

The Winter King reaches out to you, but seems to change his mind at the last moment. He turns around, going on one knee besides the bed, but with his back turned towards you. “Climb on,” he says, looking over his shoulder at you. “I know carrying you in my arms would be far more romantic and fitting, but I need to focus to get us home quickly.”

You shuffle over, and as your arms wrap around his neck, and your legs around his waist, you feel worse and better at the same time. Physically, you are less uncomfortable. It’s like you have found the exact spot where your itch is, with the Winter King’s natural body temperature cooling down the flames lapping at your skin. At the same time, thinking clearly becomes so, so much harder. The scent of chocolate milk and pine trees, exactly as Candy had described him, fills your nose, and makes you melt. Involuntarily, you let out a whimper.

“Poor thing,” the Winter King says as he gets up. With ease, despite the weight of you on his back. “Let’s get you home.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. Instead of walking, a pathway of ice forms right underneath the Winter King’s feet, and he skates over it with ease. Deftly, he maneuvers his way around the Candy Queen’s subjects, guards, and the machine still waiting at her entrance. As the ground underneath your feet gives away, your special path of ice doesn’t. The quickly shrinking logical part of your brain recognises that is the time for your fear of heights to kick in, but it doesn’t. Your head is just fuzzy. He is steady as ever underneath you, never losing his balance. At the same time, he has never been this quiet. You glance over your shoulder. Behind you, the ice he left behind is dissolving.

As the quiet stretches on, it becomes harder and harder to ground yourself. Your body starts to heat up once again despite the icy wind whipping around you, and the icy man you are pressed up against. Your neck loses all its strength. In the end, your head rests sideways on his shoulder, your ear pressed against him. His hair keeps brushing, or almost touching, your face. Without shame, the concept of that seems to have left you entirely, you take a deep inhale. You’re resting so close to his ear that he has no choice except to hear it. He lets out a breathy, short laugh.

Past his shoulder, you can see one of his fists closed, the other hand is open, with its palm opened towards the sky. Through half-open eyes, you stare. His hands are aglow with a faint blue light, the evidence of his powers. His powers… The thought catches in your brain, and doesn’t loosens. There’s something about his magic, something that you have forgotten but that your body remembers. Your gaze shifts without you prompting it to.

His crown sits in the middle of its head, as it always does. Its yellow colour seems blinding to you now, sparkling bright like starlight. The rubies on it gleam, reflecting non-existent beams of sun. You have to touch it. Just a little. Or maybe a bit more.

The movement of your arm as you reach out is heavy and slow. It feels as if the air is made out of molten caramel, and you are slowly wading your way through it. But with the end goal so clear in sight, and so beautiful, you cannot give up. Just as your fingers are a mere hair’s length away, the Winter King’s fist closes around your wrist. For the first time, he stumbles, the walkway underneath his feet having to veer off-course to make up for it.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the Winter King tuts. He keeps his hand firmly locked around you. “No touching that, snowflake. I’m aware that every single part of me is simply irresistible, but, please, keep your hands to yourself for now.” The rest of his sentence is mumbled, most of the words lost to the wind. “…hers, alright…”

You feebly try to wriggle your way out of his hold, though it has little effect. “’S important.” You say in return, your tongue catching on the ‘s’ and drawing it out. You clench your legs around his waist tighter, shifting your weight around.

“It’s important for you not to touch it,” he tells you in response. Tears spring to your eyes, though you aren’t sure why. They feel cold as they drip down your cheeks. As soon as they hit the Winter King’s skin, they turn into tiny, frozen pebbles.

The Winter Kingdom looms up in front of you, all at once. You hadn’t realised you’d gotten so close to it. When the sun shines on the castle of ice just right, it’s blinding to the eyes. For a moment, a memory bubbles up to the surface of your mind: How you’d wandered here in the utter freezing temperatures, looking at cute little homes with no smoke coming from their chimneys, and how the castle had awed you enough to temporarily distract you from the cold seeping into your very bones. Now, you feel warm enough that you might never be cold again.

What clues you in to your actual arrival is the crunching of snow underneath the Winter King’s shoes as he jumps down, and the smell of pine trees that hangs pervasive in the air, blanketing the whole kingdom.

“Home…” You mumble. Your face is so close to the Winter King’s ear however, that he hears anything you say, no matter how softly it may be spoken.

“Yes, dearest,” he responds, giving your wrist a final squeeze. He lets go of your hand. It’s a hesitant, slow departure, like he has to pry each finger loose with effort. As if his hand was frozen to yours, and it takes time to thaw. “We’re home, now. I expect you’ll think twice before heading off on some silly trip again, won’t you?”

You don’t respond. You hardly register what he’s saying, really. You are caught up in breathing in the cold air, filling your lungs to the brim with it, and hoping the relief will spread throughout your entire body. The layer of sweat that has settled on your skin underneath your clothes, all in different, albeit matching, shades of blue, is starting to cool off. It’s like being wrapped in a cooling blanket, and you smile. Before, all that was preventing you from clawing at your skin was the necessity of holding on to the Winter King, but now you feel no urge to scratch.

Suddenly, the Ice Scouts’ voices burst from left and right.

“Is she alright?”

“Should we carry her?”

Their voices are jarring, and louder than they usually are. They are all grace and fluidity always, and you don’t notice their approach at the best of times. Now is not one of those times. Your head pounds. You bury your face further against him, in an attempt to escape it.

“She will be alright. Yes, yes,” The Winter King says, with enough casualty to make your recovery sound assured and unquestionable. (You know that you will recover, you know that you will get better, and all that you have to do is be one with him. And never let go again, forever, and ever, and ever.) “You may take her from me, but do not venture far. I must make some preparations in the lab, and search… Ahem, find the necessary instruments.”

Though the full reality of his words should have been immediately clear to you, you only start to whimper when the slender, freezing hands of an Ice Scout come into contact with your back. You cling to him like a lifeline, nails clawing at him like a cat clawing at a scratching post. Despite this, you are still smiling, wide enough for your eyes to be nearly squeezed shut. The muscles in your cheek spasm under the strain, yet you cannot stop.

The Winter King hisses, and as he exhales, you watch the steam of his breath rise up into the air. “I hear you— Well, more like feel you, hah!” He continues, lowering his voice. “You poor thing. You must be uncomfortable enough as it is, and I would be a poor king to exacerbate it.”

With a flick of his wrist, and a rise of his chin, he dismisses his servants. “Nevermind, you two! Can’t you see the lady herself has spoken? Off with you, now.”

You blink, and an uncertain amount of time has passed. The Winter King has looped one of his arms over yours, keeping you extra steady as he maneuvers his way through his castle. The sound of his movements is sharp. A muted thought pops into your head. For once, he’s not moving around on his shoes, but he must’ve put blades underneath them instead. He’s cutting corners. It’s funny. You laugh, and you laugh, and you laugh, and even your tears are cold against your skin.

The deeper you go into his castle, the colder it gets. His laboratory is tucked away far from where the occasional wandering visitor or servant might find it. By now, your lips are stretched high enough, and your muscles are twitching enough, for your vision to be nothing more than a blur. Still, you recognise the sound of the sliding door entrance. He had taken you here when you had first arrived, poked and prodded at you for a bit, before proclaiming you a human. Your addled brain knows what to expect here. You will be put down and left alone, the last thing you want.

You whine. Rather than just your nose, you press your twitchy, stretched thin mouth against his skin. You are overwhelmed with the urge to lap and suck, your mouth latching on to the flesh of his throat. The Winter King lets out a shuddering sigh in response, before placing a hand against the side of your head, and pushing you away. Your mouth releases from his skin with a pop, leaving a darker mark in it's wake.

"Dear, you are going to make me do something very unethical, if you keep that up." He laughs, and it’s an airy, weightless sound. You find yourself laughing along.

The Winter King places his hand around your fingers, and you expect a kind, grounding gesture. One by one, he removes your fingers from the fabric of his vest. Despite protesting as much as you can, he bends your digits as easily as one does straw. He plops you down on a chair which, by the feel of it, he just manifested out of ice.

“I stand by my earlier diagnosis, as of now. This is pretty bad.” The Winter King says, the blue blur on your vision suggesting he’s hanging over you. His heel squeaks on the floor as he turns around. “Muscle relaxant, muscle relaxant…” His muttering echoes in the room made entirely of ice.

Your sutures have been removed too early. Feverish, sickening heat washes over you in waves. The current is too strong, and you don’t stand a chance. You press your face against the freezing back of the chair, but it’s not enough. It’s not what you need, not even close to it. You shift your weight around, rubbing your arms and legs against the sides.

When, on shaky legs, you attempt to get up, icy shackles click in place around your ankles with a clear snap of his fingers. You sniffle. A pitiful noise is wrenched from your throat, any words currently lots to you.

“It’s for your own safety, snowflake, I promise.” The Winter King’s voice sounds from across the room. He’s digging through drawers, shelves, and whatever else is in that corner of the room— You’ve never looked, and you can’t hold a string of thought long enough to consider what might be. Spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth. The itching has grown unbearable, and your nails find their way to your arms. Through the fabric of your clothes, you scratch, hissing in the cold air through grit teeth.

You think the whole world is falling apart you, when a cooling palm presses against your forehead. Everything’s alright again, it’s okay, it’s all fine. Your fingers slow down with each new scratch, before halting entirely.

“This will burn a little,” the Winter King warns you. He pushes your head back a couple of degrees, and then sprays something into both of your nostrils in quick succession. Your entire face scrunches up. The warning hadn’t been unwarranted, you can feel the substance burn its way through your system. It doesn’t hurt more than your exhausted muscles, however. Tears slide down your cheeks as you try to swallow a mouthful of saliva. Your chest shakes and contracts, though you can’t tell whether they are sobs or bouts of laughter.

“Shh, shhhh.” The Winter King attempts to shush you, kneeling in front of you as he wipes away your tears with a handkerchief. “It’s only going to get better from here on out.” As the seconds pass, some much-needed relaxation washes over your face. It cannot wipe the smile off of your face entirely. It remains, lopsided and unsteady. Still, you can see again.

The Winter King is sitting on a tiny stool in front of you, pen in hand and taking notes. His face is uncharacteristically serious, the deep lines in his face indicating his concentration. It’s like you’re looking at a different man.

“Dilated pupils. Unnatural facial movement, appearing as a smile…” He places one of his hands on your forehead once again, the other continuing to write. “Extremely high body heat.” Then, he moves on to place a thumb over your pulse. “Heightened heart rate.” As soon as he pulls his hand back, you reach out your arm, in an attempt to guide him back. “…And an uncontrollable urge to be close to me, it seems.” He huffs. The Winter King leans his head back, and clicks his tongue, multiple times in a row. “Well, it’s her essence, alright.” His eyes glide up and down your body. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The words are audible, but they find nowhere to hold onto inside your brain. All of the words, individually, make sense. That is where your understanding ends. There’s no way for you to string their meaning together.

“I suspected as much.” As he cups one of your cheeks in his hand, you lean into the touch as much as you can, rubbing your nose against his palm. By now, your symptoms have worsened to the point that not even his touch can cool you down. If it weren’t for the relaxant he’d given you, you’d be straining against your cuffs in order to get to him. Your brain is focused on a single pinpoint: him.

You no longer have a concept of shame. Both of your hands reach for his, grabbing onto his wrist, and dragging his palm over your face. It’s easy, there is no resistance from his side. When they come closer to your mouth, you lean forward, and take one of his fingers in between your lips, sucking on it. You try to appeal to him further, the only way you know how, the smile on your face widening. Your head is filled to the brim and light at the same time, stuffed full of cotton candy.

“Winterrr…” You slur out his name, tongue caressing his finger as you do so. The world is garbled nearly beyond recognition. Both because of the intrusion, and the fact your tongue doesn’t listen to all of your unconscious commands. Your brain feels like it’s leaking out of your ears. You are hardly in control of yourself anymore. It would have been terrifying, had you had the ability to remember you were ever in control in the first place. All you know is this moment, this exact time and place. “Pleaaase…”

Drool is pooling onto your lap. The Winter King stares at you for a good few seconds, gaze intense. He doesn’t pull away, but neither does he lean in. A droplet of water slides over his forehead. For a moment, it hangs off of the tip of his nose, before dripping down, like from the point of an icicle.

“Me? It’s me you need, snowflake? It’s me you want?” There is a breathless in his voice, an anticipation in his tone that set your nerves impossible more alight. You’re nodding. All you can recognise in his voice is a kind of desire, and you’re nodding. There’s nothing you’ve ever wanted more.

“Aaaah, can I really do this…?” The Winter King says, smiling creeping onto his face. At the same time, he’s stuffing multiple of his digits into your mouth, practically fingering you as he runs the pads of them over your teeth and tongue. His other hand finds your wrist again, and he presses down with his thumb. “It seems to calm you down.”

He takes your tongue in between two of his fingers, and rubs both sides of it at once. Your eyes grow hazy, your head lolls to the side. Full-body shivers wreck your body, goosebumps spreading absolutely everywhere. Your core throbs.

The Winter King laughs, clear and pretty as bells. “Well, now isn’t the time to suddenly grow a moral compass, is it? It’s clear what you want. What you need.” He pulls away from your mouth. Holding his fingers in front of his face, he looks at the strings of saliva connecting them, slowly pulling them further apart, and bringing them back together. “I don’t know anything else that might make you feel better, dear— And I’m only saying that, because I know you won’t remember a thing. Not with that pretty, little head of yours being as empty as it is right now.”

He shakes his head. “Haaah, I don’t even know why I’m saying any of this, anymore. But it feels nice to fill the silence, doesn’t it? I do have a lovely voice. I’m sure you’d agree, if you could.”

You squirm in your seat. Any moment without the Winter King is a moment too long, in your mind. Once again, you reach out for his hand, but he keeps it just outside of your reach. Your heart clenches.

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll give you something much, much better.”

Your knees bump against his. You spread your legs as wide as they can possibly go, and he rests his knees on the inside of them, moving the stool closer. His smile is graceful and steady, not flush on his cheeks to be seen. With two fingers, he grabs his glasses off of the bridge of his nose, folds the legs up, and puts it on a table a little to the side. It would be a great show of self-restraint. Would be, because his hands are trembling. His every breath is a puff of smoke. You might be a total mess, but he is cracking at the seams himself.

He holds your face in both of his hands, one of his fingers rubbing circles on your cheek. The Winter King leans in, angling his face just right, so his nose doesn’t end up anywhere you wouldn’t want it to be. It’s all you’ve ever read or heard about. Descriptions of kisses that feel like fireworks going off, or butterflies eating away at your insides— It’s more overwhelming than any of that. Your whole body feels as if it’s been alight at once. His lips are silky smooth, and merely cool to the touch, rather than cold.

One of his hand moves to rest on top of your hair, adjusting the position of your head just a tad. Your mouth is already hanging open. Frankly, your entire jaw is slack. You couldn’t even close it if you had tried, so little control over your muscles do you have left. His tongue slips inside you without any effort or resistance. It brushes against yours, and…

He breaks the moment. The Winter King jerks his head back, smacking his lips together. His face is ever so slightly scrunched up. You lean forward as best as you can, trying to follow the kiss and recapture it, to no avail. Instead, you settle for what you can. You lick the remainder of his touch from your lips.

“Sorry about that, snowflake,” he says, voice low. “You still taste like her. It surprised me, that’s all. It’s not your fault.” He hums, leaning in close again, and a more teasing smile plays around his lips. “Let’s change that together, shall we?”

The Winter King kisses you with renewed energy. It’s like he sets out to reclaim crevice over your mouth, his tongue running over both your tongue and palate. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes once again, and your entire body is shaking. With what limited power you have, you suck his tongue further into your mouth, as hard as you can. For the first time, Winter’s control wavers, and he lets out a muffled little noise.

This is it, this is exactly it, and as soon as you think that, it’s not enough anymore. You need him further inside you, you need infinitely more of him. Merely his spit mixing with yours isn’t deep enough of a connection.

With a bit of effort, the Winter King detaches his mouth from yours. A thick string of drool connects your mouths. He catches it on his finger, and stuffs it back inside your mouth. His eyes are half-lidded and his smile is as lopsided of your own, a dark blue hue tinting the space underneath his eyes.

“Heehee,” he laughs, out of breath. His cobalt tongue peeks past his lips for just a moment. “Oh, dear, you’re not trying to eat me, are you?”

Your head grows a little clearer, the more and more he touches you. Not enough to speak, but enough to understand what he’s saying again. You shake your head. The whole world spins around you at the motion, swirling with seasickness. Eating is not quite right.

His eyes light up at the evidence of your understanding, little stars twinkling in his eyes as he claps his hands together. He has such silly ways to show his excitement. It’s really, really cute.

As soon as the thought forms in your head, it quickly slips back out of your fingers. Your arms itch. Every time you feel release, it never lasts. It hurts. Once again, your tears threaten to spill over, and your fingers claw at the armrests of your impromptu, icy chair. They find nothing to hold on to.

“It’s not enough, hm? Of course it isn’t. You greedy little thing,” he says with nothing except for affection in his tone. “I think I know what you want snowflake. Allow me to help.”

The Winter King lowers his hands, one of them tapping in a steady rhythm on the inside of your thigh, while the other pressed against your clothed crotch. Your legs were already spread wide open for him. The coldness of his fingers radiates even through the fabric of your clothes. As he starts to rub, teasingly pulling at your waistband, before letting the fabric hit your skin again, your whole body seizes. This… Isn’t it. This isn’t making the heat any better, it’s only making it worse.

Your ankles push up against your restraints. You try to wriggle away, and put both of your hands on his arm. The Winter King immediately relents. He holds both of his hands in front of his chest, turned toward you in a sign of surrender. You close your thighs, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Well, that’s a ‘no’. Clearly. You didn’t need your voice to tell me that much.” His gaze drifts down to his hands, then back to your face. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, snowflake. I simply assumed… It’d be a lot easier if you could talk to me, but I know that’s not an option right now. Alas.”

He stands up, and pushes the stool backward with his foot. “You can understand what I’m saying, so let’s do it like this. I ask you now: What do you want?” The Winter King runs a hand through his hair, flipping it over his shoulder. “I know I love to make things about myself, but in this situation… Let’s not. Maybe try to point at what you want, hm?”

Slowly, you nod. Without really thinking about it, you reach out and press your hand against the obvious bulge in his pants, before pointing at your mouth with your other hand. All the while, you’re smiling up at him.

The Winter King lets out a sound somewhere in between a cough and a laugh, before genuinely cracking up. “Ha— Hahaha, oh, snowflake… Really, I know I should be worried about your life right now, and trust me, I am, but… Ohhh, you’re even flustering me at this rate,” He winks at you, a blue flush having spread over most of his face. “And that’s an achievement, you can trust me on that. Though I should have expected that kind of response, shouldn’t I?” He drags a finger quickly past the corner of his eye, like wiping away a single tear.

He places his hand over his chest. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ll let you suck my cock, dear…! Kidding. I’d let you do that any day.” Even in your current state, you can tell he’s finding himself far too hilarious, as usual. You groan, contemplating hitting him, before your addled brain comes up with a much better idea.

You massage him through his pants, cupping and squeezing him. Immediately the majority of the smile melts off of his face, and he hisses in a breath.

“Yes, yes, dearest. I understand. Your wish is my command. Let go for a moment now, will you?”

He pulls his pants and underwear down the minimal amount, entirely dressed excepted the hard cock a little way away from your face. Underneath you, the chair made out of ice molds and changes, presenting you at the perfect height to suck him off.

All of this floats right by you. You go nearly cross-eyed while staring at his cock. It’s pretty and thick, with a bead of precum on the top. Though, at this point, you don’t care what it looks like. Your entire body is wound tight, full of anticipation for this exact, specific moment. You feel like your mouth is dry from how much you’ve been drooling, trails of saliva turning to near-frost on your skin.

His fingers lace themselves through your hair, most of his hand at the back of your head. “That’s a delicious look on you, snowflake. You should reserve it just for me, yes?” His nails tickle as he presses his dick against your lips, smearing himself over them. With no hesitation, you open your mouth and take his head in. Immediately, he lets out a sigh, his eyes rolling up.

“I’d forgotten how warm a human mouth is… I love it.” He moans, loud and unapologetic as you suck on him, tongue still too relaxed to move much. The taste of him, especially his precum, flits through your mind for just a moment. It doesn’t taste like much of anything, almost like water. “You’re doing wonderful, sweetheart.

You try to lean forward, wanting to take as much of him in at once in your feverish haze. The Winter King, however, keeps a steady hold on you, and keeps your head firmly against the back of your seat. He shushes you as you protest around him.

(Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, underneath the layers of magic you’ve been put under, there is shame. You must look like a mess right now. Unlike yourself, smiling creepily around his cock, and forward in a way you wouldn’t have been otherwise. Whatever you’re doing to him can be described as sloppy as best. You would have preferred your first time with him to be anything except for this, something stained with urgency beyond simple desire. Yet, he looks at you like there is nothing ugly about you.)

“I’m going to help you take as much of as me as possible, sweetheart. But not like that.” He pets the top of your head. “Deep breaths, deep breaths. Or…” He hums, lost in thought for a moment. His cock twitches inside your mouth. “I wonder, would that spray have relaxed your gag reflex as well?”

You don’t notice his scientific curiosity. All you can tell is that he’s given you exactly what you’d been fantasizing about, and you hum in pleasure around his dick. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, you’re one. You can’t be much more than a cocksleeve wrapped around him, but the Winter King doesn’t seem too mind. He breathes heavily, starting out with shallow thrusts in your mouth, that push beyond what your body should be able to handle without any issue. You have no urge to gag, and you smile wider.

“Ohhh, that’s so hot,” he gasps out. “You’ve given me some wonderful ideas for the future, snowflake,” he babbles to no one except himself. “I wasn’t even planning on getting myself off during this, dear, but this is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He lets out a long groan as he bottoms out inside your mouth, simply reveling in the warm, wet heat of you.

“Mm, next time, I’ll truly make this all about you, promise.” He rubs your hair in an affectionate, soothing manner. “I don’t want this to end just yet,” he admits, laughter breathy. “But that would be awfully selfish of me, wouldn’t it?”

You stare up at him through hazy eyes that are glossy with tears. This is good, it’s beautiful, it’s wonderful, but you need him to cum right down your throat. The inside of your mouth is so cold, cold enough that you feel like your tongue might freeze to the bottom of your mouth. That he won’t be able to pull out by the time he’s done with you, and be stuck inside you for the next couple of hours. You shudder with nothing but pleasure.

Yet, this prospect is not enough to drive out the immediate need inside you, and you look at the Winter King which as must pleading as you think you can muster. You hum around his cock, running your tongue along the underside of him the best he can.

“I know, snowflake, I know,” he says and, then, starts to move once again, always keeping more than half of his cock inside your mouth. “I can tell you I usually last longer than this,” he says, starting to ramble again. “But for you, for you, I will—”

He lets out a guttural moan, pulled from the depths of his throat as his fingers twitch against your scalp. It’s your name he whines out as he cums right down your throat, his hips jerking forwards a few more times as he releases every last drop inside of you. You don’t even have to swallow to take all of it in. Without thinking about it at all, you try to speak yourself, though the words are obviously lost to him, nothing more than gurgles. (You love, him, you love him, you love him.)

Resting his hand on the back of the chair, he looms over you, breathing heavily. Droplets of water run down his face, and drip down his nose. His shoulder are slumped in bliss, his face entirely relaxed, and without pretense. Mindlessly, you continue to suck on his cock, though some of the fog inside your head is already starting to clear. The Winter King hisses and pulls out.

“A bit too soon for that, my snowflake.”

He pets your head for a few seconds longer, and with slightly shaky hands wipes the area around your mouth clean. The fact it doesn’t freeze on your skin is a testament to his amount of self-control. You rest your head against the, honestly, uncomfortable chair, and close your eyes.

You breathe deeply, in and out. The itching underneath your skin is the first thing that disappears. It’s like your whole body has been cleansed, rinsed from all of the filth. Instead of feeling warm, a complete and utter chill is wrapping itself around your body. Your teeth start to clatter together with an audible clicking sound, and you wrap your arms around yourself.

You groan as you blink, time and time again. You feel like garbage. Utter garbage, in fact. You’re shivering with the kind of cold-heat only found in illness, and it feels as if there’s ice in your mouth. Like your teeth are frozen against each other, completely stuck. That’s not even mentioning your eyelids, which are as heavy as rocks.

It’s only when you feel something wrapping around you, multiple times, in fact, that you become aware of more than your bodily discomfort. You try to move your arms and legs, but find it nearly impossible to do so. You manage to crack open your eyes. The sight of the Winter King, carrying another blanket in his arms, becomes obvious to you. You’re already swaddled in the things.

“N-no. That’s enough.” You nearly flinch from how poorly your own voice sounds. “Did you really need to use that many blankets…?” You ask, your throat sore and voice hoarse. Your memories are hazy at best. You remember going to Candy’s place to hang out, and then… Wait, uh, are you remembering wrong, or did she kiss you? You don’t have much time to ponder it, as the Winter King is immediately all over you.

“Oh, dearest!” He drops to his knees in front of you, shaking you around. “I thought you were done for, truly! All at once, you became freezing…! I really didn’t have a clue what to do, as you know, my specialty doesn’t lie in heating things up,” he continues, rambling. He’s speaking enough that you know he’s been genuinely worried. “I’m glad you’re okay, well, you seem fine enough to me! Believe me, I was about to chuck you into the hot springs.”

“Hot springs?” You ask, frowning. Since when do you have hot springs?

“Forget I said that.” He says, incredibly quickly, within a single breath. You snort, cracking up a little. Laughing, for whatever reason, is hurting your chest. “Nooo, none of that, snowflake! You’re being awfully cruel to me. I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” But as you laugh more, his own smile widens, soft around the edges as it is.

“Tell me about the hot springs,” you say. He sighs loudly, and scoops you off of your seat and into his arms, making you sputter. As bundled up as you are however, you can’t protest at all. You must look very silly to an outside observer. It’s only then that you notice that you are in his laboratory. You really have to ask what happened exactly later.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a groan.

“Well, it’s clearly not anymore, so you should just tell me already.” The offended look on his face only makes you chuckle again.

“It’s what I’ve been working on, on and off for the past few weeks,” he says, relenting to your wishes as he exits the room. Maybe you shouldn’t be as used to being carried around like this, but you hardly think about it anymore. “I figured that you needed to have a place to warm up, for once! It’s near the mountains. I had to dig it up, all on my own! None of my subjects want to get anywhere close to hot water, can you imagine?”

You totally can, but you digress.

“So, well… That’s the reason I haven’t been around as much lately, dearest. And I guess that’s exactly what sent you off running into her arms, hm?” You pinches your cheek, a little too hard to be merely affectionate.

“Well, I wouldn’t really call it—” You protest.

“You must have been awfully lonely indeed!” He loudly continues, rubbing his thumb over the spot he’d just pinched. “But I will be honest with you, dear, you were in a dangerous situation today. Do you truly think I warned you so, so many times, merely for the sake of it? You could have died, all because of a whim of hers!”

“Is that what happened?” You ask, voice soft, nearly a whisper.

“Oh? You can’t remember?” You shake your head. “Yes, that is exactly what happened. She corrupted you, a human, with her essence, something no creature is made to handle, but especially not you. You are lucky to make out with some mere soreness, I can promise you that.” He smiles, but you can tell there’s no humour in him. For once, he is walking instead of skating, each step placed with purpose. “I think it would be better for you if you didn’t try to be kidnapped by her anymore, hm? If you enjoy near-death experiences that much, I can arrange one for you.”

You laugh awkwardly, because you are assuming it’s a joke. What else could it possibly be? “I… Yeah, I won’t go there anymore. Sorry for worrying you. I didn’t mean to, honestly.” That seals off your route to the last place you could go outside of the kingdom. He’s never let you wander far, and you can only guess he’ll be even more protective from now on.

For a few moments, he holds your gaze, and then he leans down to give you a kiss on your forehead. “I forgive you.” You feel a little less cold than before, despite his lips being far from warm. “Really though, that wasn’t your smartest decision. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you tell him. He clicks his tongue, and you move to defend yourself. “Look, okay, my mouth feels really weird, and I have no idea why! I’ve never felt anything like it. My teeth keep sticking to each other.”

He goes quiet for a few seconds, playing with the edge of one of the blankets wrapped around you. “It must be a leftover symptom from your corruption. The phenomenon is not well-documented, especially not in humans.”

Even through all of the thick blankets wrapped around you, you are starting to shiver. Winter feels it, and hugs you closer to his chest.

“It’s a good thing I was going to show you those hot springs!” He chirps, tone suddenly shifting to his usual cadence. You are happy to chalk all of your strange feelings up to the corruption you’d suffered. Of course, the reason you woke up in his lab was because he was monitoring your health. “Both of us could use a little warming up, I would say.”

There are things you have left behind. Somewhere, out there in this vast, vast multiverse, there is a home waiting for you. Perhaps with family and friends searching for you, worrying themselves sick. But if that is the case, you remember none of it. You are happy here, in the Winter Kingdom, at the side of its king. If you are happy here, and you are, you don’t think anyone could blame you for wanting to stay, could they?

The world outside of here is so, so dangerous. He has warned you about it all an infinite number of times. You really do think you would like to stay here, for the rest of the life that stretches ahead of you.

“Winter…?” You say softly, your tone bordering on questioning. He hums in response, milky white eyes meeting your own. “Thank you. For everything.”

He hugs you close to his chest, and does a little spin on the tips of his toes. You laugh. By this point, you are used to his theatrics, and know that he won’t let you fall. Little hearts made from his ice powers drift in the air next to his head, before dissolving into powder snow.

“I love you too, snowflake.” His voice is a singsong whisper, and your heart melts.

#winter king x reader #candy queen x reader #adventure time x reader #winter king #candy queen

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sunrise-imagines · 7 months

Note

hey!! who do you write for in fionna and cake??

That’s a good question! Currently I’m writing for:

• Adult Finn (Main Universe)

• Farmworld Finn

• Fionna

• Simon

• Marshall Lee

• Gary Prince

• Hunter

• Winter King

• Candy Queen

• Prismo

• Scarab

• Marceline (Main Universe)

• Marceline (Vampireworld)

• Princess Bubblegum (Main Universe)

• Bonnie (Vampireworld)

• Martin Mertens (Vampireworld)

• Huntress (Vampire World)

• Huntress Wizard (Main Universe)

• Hana Abadeer

• Betty Grof

• Whatever that dude based on Lord Monochromicorn is called idfk

SFW ONLY:

• Jay Mertens

• Little Destiny

• Baby Finn

• Jake the Dog

• Cake the Cat

That’s all the ones I can think of right now, if there’s a character you want me to write that’s not on this list just send me an ask and I’ll let you know if I’m willing to try writing for them or not! Thanks for asking!

~Celeste✨

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frogspond200 · 7 months

Text

𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗

Requested by: Anon

Ask: do you think it would be ok for you to wright something about candy queen thank you and if not that ok

Warning: None

Date: 9/15/23

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Candy Queen loved to surprise her s/o with extravagant candy-themed gifts and gestures. Whether it was a room filled with cotton candy clouds or a chocolate fountain that flowed endlessly, she spared no expense to make her s/o feel cherished.

They loved hosting extravagant parties in the Candy Kingdom. With candy-themed decorations, colorful guests, and a dance floor made of gummy bears, their parties were legendary (according to her)

Late at night, they would share their dreams and secrets, wrapped in a blanket of candy-scented pillows. These intimate moments were when they felt closest, their love stronger than any sweet treat.

Candy Queen’s role as a ruler was always intertwined with her role as a partner. She supported her s/o’s goals and aspirations, even when it meant making difficult decisions that affected the Candy castle.

Candy Queen and her s/o had numerous traditions, from sharing a candy apple on their anniversary to having a yearly candy hunt in the Candy Kingdom, which always ended with a special prize hidden inside a giant lollipop.

Through thick and thin, their love remained unbreakable. They faced challenges, villains, and the occasional candy-related disaster together, emerging stronger and even more in love each time.

#x reader #adventure time #adventure time x reader #fionna and cake hbo #fionna #fionna and cake #candy queen #candy queen x reader #candy queen fionna and cake #candy queen adventure time #candy queen x reader fionna and cake #candy queen x reader adventure time

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povlnfour · 5 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ TALES OF CANDOR (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!author!reader

summary: lando’s girlfriend has a secret identity. she’s not quite the girl next door everyone assumed, and he might just be the inspiration for more than just her instagram captions.

warnings: some hate comments

* faceclaim: mélanie, aka wailcester on ig (please imagine her as you see fit)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 508,651 others

landonorris some days @ home

👤 tagged yourusername

view all comments

user i hope ur enjoying ur time off!

user no hate but like what does his gf actually do?

user literally nothing she’s jobless💀

user it’s giving🏅👷‍♀️

user lando i love u but half naked pics of ur girl isn’t helping how much we dislike her…

user what’s she reading!!!

yourusername a thousand splendid suns by khaled hosseini!!

user ofc u are. i totally believe u acc read well written books. u probably just read gossip columns but want to seem interesting🙄

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,708,111 others

musingsofcandor biscuit approves of the final draft🤍

👤 tagged acatcalledbiscuit

view all comments

user HELLO??? CANDOR DOES THIS MEAN WE R GETTING A NEW BOOK

user i love that we know more abt candy’s cat than we do her…

user can’t wait to read it🥹🥹

rickriordan has to be my favorite thing you’ve written!

user RICK’S READ IT??? OH YOU KNOW ITS GOOD

user lando norris in the likes he’s just like all of us fr

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 32,410 others

yourusername ‘when she finally got the camera film developed, seeing his face made it all come rushing back’🦋🫧🧚🏻

view all comments

user im sorry i know we r meant to be supportive but she annoys me sm. is she just living off of lando’s money?

user omg the caption!!!

user i recognise it, where’s it from?

user it’s from ‘tales of peter rourke’ by candor!!!

user 🤢

user we get it… ur dating someone rich. now get a job!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ mclaren interview

[captions:

interviewer: what have you been up to in your break?

lando: a lot of lounging around with my girlfriend. read a few books too!

interviewer: anything good?

lando: i’m really into magical reality at the moment! that kind of it’s all normal till it’s not stuff, you know?

interviewer: any good recommendations?

lando: if you like that same genre, i recommend ‘the right side of upside’ by candor! it’s pretty recent, i finished it last week.]

comments

user he likes candor??? he’s so real for that

user KNEW I COULD TRUST HIM

user bad taste in women good taste in books

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,708,111 others

musingsofcandor thank you for all the love lately on ‘the right side of upside’. insane seeing so many of you recommend it, biscuit and i are eternally grateful. love, candy🤍

view all comments

user QUEEN DID YOU SEE LANDO RECOMMENDED IT

user CANDY HAS A MAN???

user love u forever ur so talented

user CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU DO NEXT. CANT BELIEVE WE HAVE TO WAIT NOW

musingsofcandor it might be sooner than you think ;)

user UM. candor is this a soft launch?????

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by musingsofcandor, yourusername and 761,298 others

landonorris got some super helpful race advice today

👤 tagged acatnamedbiscuit, musingsofcandor

view all comments

user OH MY GOD MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING

user LANDO WE NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING IS SHE CUTE I FEEL LIKE SHES CUTE

user break up w ur gf and date candor when

musingsofcandor biscuit says he can’t be held responsible for the outcome🐾

landonorris can i hold you responsible instead, candy?

user UHHHH WHATS GOING ON HERE

user i just know y/n is feeling THREATENED

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 31,209 others

yourusername all mine

view all comments

user LMAOOO U STARTED SWEATING HUH

user candor could steal ur man if she really wanted to

user GIRL YOU’RE SO OBVIOUS

landonorris yours🖤

user STOP LYINGGGG

ੈ✩‧₊˚ an exclusive interview with candor : entertainment weekly

interviewer: so candor! tell us how it really feels having the world at your feet!

candor: [laughing] honestly quite normal! it’s a blessing and a curse, really, not having my identity revealed. i get to live my life without those pressures, but i don’t get to see anyone and thank them for reading!

interviewer: do you ever get the urge to approach someone reading one of your books?

candor: all the time! whenever i go browsing in book stores and see someone looking at or buying mine, i have such a temptation to scream THANK YOU at them!

interviewer: do you see a future in which you reveal your identity?

candor: maybe! there are a few of my fans who know who i am, those who attend the secret events and signings, but i’m very lucky that they all respect my privacy and haven’t shared anything further. perhaps one day soon i’ll finally let everyone in on the secret.

interviewer: and we can’t talk to you and not bring up your cat — or rather, who your cat met the other day…?

candor: oh! i’m assuming you mean lando norris? yes! he’s a pretty good friend of mine, he’s been a big support over the last few years and we found some time in our schedules last week to meet up.

interviewer: so you’re a formula 1 fan?

candor: huge fan! i’m a big mclaren girl so lando and i met through their events!

interviewer: oh fantastic! see folks reading this, she really is just like us!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 33,009 others

yourusername cars going vroom vroom makes my heart go boom boom

view all comments

user lmao posting before and after candor’s interview. girl ur not subtle.

user im so sorry but ur clearly so threatened it’s hilarious

user i don’t get all the hate in here??? she’s just in love n happy?

user shes a gold digger

comments on this post have now been disabled

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,708,111 others

musingsofcandor told you it wouldn’t be long🫧 ‘thomasin jeffe, the cat, and the diplomat’ will be with you next friday. a lot of love poured into this one over the past few years, i just couldn’t wait any longer to give it to you🤍

already a member on my website? check your emails🦋

view all comments

user WHDHSJSJSJSJS

user OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING

user THE EMAILLLLL🥹

user candy omg where do you live that looks so pretty!!!!

musingsofcandor monaco !!

landonorris 🖤

user lando using the black heart and candor using the white… i’m sorry to his gf (not really) but they’re meant to be

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a photo

liked by musingsofcandor and 34,511 others

user the best day of my life!!! thank you so much candor for being the absolute sweetest human and taking time to talk to each and every one of us! i cannot wait to read thomasin jeffe, the cat, and the diplomat🥹🤍

view all comments

user YOU MET HERRRRE???

user WHO IS SHE TELL TELL TELL

user candor asks us not to share her identity so i’m gonna respect that but LET ME TELL YOU I WAS SHOCKED

user i recognise her from just that inch of her face but i can’t tell whERE FROM

musingsofcandor it was WONDERFUL to meet you! i hope you enjoy the story🤍

user wish people on twitter were as kind as this,,, there’s photos of her going around :/

ੈ✩‧₊˚ f1wags just posted a photo

liked by 57,916 people

f1wags the internet has been in PIECES after famous author candor’s recent book signing. photos have emerged of the popular anonymous author from the event, revealing her to be none other than LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND, Y/N! turns out, she has a job after all👀 (pictures taken from y/n’s instagram!)

view all comments

user i… cannot believe this

user see. when y’all were hating on her you were secretly worshipping her

user @ everyone who was an arse to y/n… KARMA IS A BITCH!

user WHAT????

user HOLY SHIT LANDO HAS BEEN DATING MY FAV AUTHOR THIS WHOLE TIME????

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 506,711 others

yourusername well. the secrets out. it’s been a long few years, but it’s nice to not have to hold it in any more.

both my accounts will remain active for separate purposes, but i’m excited to be able to introduce you to candor as she is in her whole truth — just like her name suggests🤍

view all comments

user ironically this is exactly how i picture marian elsie from thomasine jeffe looking. full fairy

user i am. so sorry. so so so sorry. i know nothing can ever compare for the things we said but i really am

yourusername thank you. no hard feelings on my end🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 457,810 others

landonorris my candy. it may not have been how you intended, but i’m glad i get to show off how proud of you i am.

i’ve watched you as both candor and y/n for a while now, and i love both versions of you entirely. i cannot wait to see what you do now you have the freedom to be whoever you want to.

and hey, pretty cool to be able to say i’m the inspiration behind some of your characters, huh?🖤

ps. so glad i can finally share photos of mY CAT. even if he does hate me biscuit is MINE as well

view all comments

user love the clarification that the most important thing to lando is sharing photos of his cat😭😭

user MORE PICS OF BISCUIT PLEASE

user i’ve always been in love with her i can say that confidently

user oh so you’re a successful fanboy

yourusername biscuit told me to tell u ur smelly for using him for likes

landonorris you literally said to me omg i can post about biscuit now YOU FEEL THE SAME DONT LIE

ੈ✩‧₊˚ musingsofcandor just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 15,309,298 others

musingsofcandor i’ve had a bit of inspiration for some time🤍

view all comments

user MOM AND DAD

user i can’t believe this. my worlds are colliding

user I KNEW CAPTAIN ROURKE FELT FAMILIAR IN THE TALES OF PETER ROURKE

user i can’t believe my fav ever love interest is based on lando….

landonorris i love you. thanks for immortalising me🖤

————

a/n: hello hello! another one whilst i recover!

so this was based on an anon request and i have had so much fUN writing it!!!! whilst i don’t normally do requests generally due to being overwhelmed easily, this one stood out to me as i Love books so i was inspired. to the anon who requested, i hope this is what you imagined🤍

in terms of further requests! whilst i can’t promise i’ll do them, if you have any pressing ideas you think would work with my style , do feel free to send them in ! i always love to hear your ideas (and any thoughts on my works!! please send feedback as well!!) and will try gradually to get through some🤍

fun fact: all the book titles are based on actual books i have written hehe

fun fact pt2: yes her pseudonym is chosen bc i watched divergent last night

taglist (found in pinned post): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35

#f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris au #mclaren #lando norris blurb #lando norris scenario #lando norris one shot #lando norris smau

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spider-stark · 23 days

Text

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes.

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady.

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly.

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.”

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further.

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.”

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be.

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault.

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.”

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long.

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze.

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care.

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you.

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-”

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!”

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment.

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.”

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother.

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you.

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?”

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well.

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother.

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you.

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?”

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings.

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him.

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant.

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all.

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother.

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.”

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room.

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo.

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck.

And, in many ways, you hate it.

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard.

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself.

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind.

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol.

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight.

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest.

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too.

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors.

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball.

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air.

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you.

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips.

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life.

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear.

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table.

“No!”

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck.

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?”

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table.

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished.

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary.

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?”

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different.

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid.

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!”

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?”

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.”

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent.

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence.

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?”

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe.

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.”

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with.

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-”

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,”

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too.

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!”

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh.

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.”

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising.

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.”

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?”

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.”

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times.

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into.

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel.

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.”

“You could.”

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise.

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.”

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth.

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-”

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.”

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another.

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,”

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.”

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?”

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure.

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.”

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you.

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want.

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon.

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into.

That, for him, it had always been you.

“Aegon, I-”

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.”

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions.

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.”

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it.

“You’re… generous.”

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon.

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.”

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self.

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.”

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression.

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.”

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.”

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.”

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.”

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.”

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age.

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you.

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?”

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.”

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin.

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.”

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.”

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice.

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

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tender-rosiey · 8 months

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candy pretty! — nanami kento x f!reader

a/n: okay but what would nanami do if his little girl had a crush on gojo’s son 😏

nanami is a mature man, calculated, collected, and the picture perfect adult. he is the best husband who, without fail, treats you like a queen.

he is also the best dad out there and your six year old daughter will always defend that with her entire being. she is also very ready to throw hands at whoever disagrees. right now, however, the one throwing hands is your husband.

and it’s either at gojo’s son or gojo himself.

but the boy did nothing, and gojo deserves a beating anyways so he settles for the latter.

that’s at least until his darling daughter came in with the biggest smile on her cute face and holding a note—probably written by gojo’s son, considering the very terrible and unstable handwriting, but the small smiley face and cute heart—as she squealed, “daddy, daddy! akio invited me to a playdate!”

it takes every bone in nanami not to walk to gojo’s house and throw him in the nearest trashcan where he belongs; instead, he smiles gently at his daughter, “that’s great, d/n. when are you going?”

“right now!”

“sure—wait…now?”

she nods excitedly. nanami sighs then gives her a thumbs up, and the girl takes it as a cue to excitedly run to her room with giggles and squeaks, “mommy, he said yes!”

he hears you respond through the door and he can practically hear the smile in your voice, “really? that’s awesome! let’s get you dressed up, pretty girl,” you and her run happily run to her room and nanami smiles at the sound of footsteps.

he loves how lively it makes the house feel.

then hears the door close and he leans back into his seat.

moments pass by. a deep breath he takes, and a stare he gives the ceiling before mumbling very quietly, “what the fuck.”

“ooo, daddy said a bad word!”

“put the money in the jar, kento!”

ugh, this is going to be a long day.

the both of you are already dressed, and your daughter is busying herself with her favorite comic while you help your husband get ready.

he is glaring at the mirror and you chuckle while straightening his collar, “what’s on your mind, handsome? dad instincts acting up? she is growing up; she is bound to have crushes.”

he nods with a sigh, “I know, but like it’s gojo’s kid.”

“yeah?”

“no, y/n, it’s gojo’s.”

“oh right…ew. ew to gojo, not the kid. akio is an absolute sweetheart.”

he snorts, “he probably takes after his mom,” then he kisses your forehead when you’re done tying his tie, “but the thought of being related to gojo is just…” he grimaces, shaking his head, and that’s all you need to understand.

he can almost imagine it: them a couple of years later, completely and utterly in love, and he would be so happy for them. anyone who ensures the happiness and safety of his daughter is an a+ for nanami.

then gojo will enter, loudly and dramatically, and he won’t hear the ending of his annoyances, a pain he thought he will get rid of before he enters his 40s at least. he looks at the bright side: at least, he will have you by his side.

you lightly smack his—very broad and muscular—shoulder, “now, you’re being dramatic! he isn’t that bad.”

a stare of silence is what you’re met with until your daughter interrupts the judging look of your husband, “mommy! daddy! ‘gotta go! he is waiting!”

your husband sighs once again and you giggle, pulling him with you towards the car.

the ride is quiet, save for your and your daughter’s singing and her rambles about how excited she is to see akio, along with your husband’s frown as he realizes that maybe he is getting protective of her even against akio.

it doesn’t take much time, before you’re already in the gojo household and are seated while the kids are playing in akio’s room.

it’s just you, kento, and gojo because mama gojo went out to work. you would’ve loved to catch up with her about the latest gossip in town.

gojo grins as he looks at the both of you, “so how’s nanamin feeling about the kids’ love story?”

an instant scowl is plastered on your husband’s handsome face and it makes you and gojo laugh out loud. gojo understands why he is protective. when he has a daughter himself, he will probably never let a boy near her.

you cup kento’s face to press a kiss to his cheek and it relaxes him, even if it’s just a tiny bit. gojo lets out a whistle and both you and your husband glare at him.

you hear some rustling in akio’s room, before your daughter bursts out, red-faced and running towards you. she buries her face in your legs and you softly ask her, “what’s wrong, honey?”

nanami gently rubs her back and it encourages her to speak up, even if her voice is a mere murmur, “akio called me pretty,” she fidgets with her fingers. you and nanami share a look of a helpless smile and pat your daughter’s hair.

soon after, akio comes running out of his room , “d/n? are you okay? miss y/n, is she sick? is she okay? I can get that…uh—yellow thingy mommy gives me when I am sick!”

you chuckle and stroke your daughter’s hair lovingly, “don’t worry, hun; she is just a little shy about being called pretty,” you hear her huff on your legs and she looks up to frown at you.

you chuckle and kiss her forehead while nanami is staring—read: probably glaring or planning something—at akio.

akio tilts his head in confusion, “but she is pretty? the prettiest girl ever! even prettier than candy!”

your daughter whines, burying her face further into your leg, “akioo, stop!”

gojo chuckles, watching the scene unfold and thinking about how his very evident charms were passed down to his kid.

but the compassion in his eyes as he worriedly looks at d/n is definetly from his mom. akio pads his way to d/n, and gently pats her head, “I am sorry; please don’t be mad at me.”

he pouts and looks away while blushing, “you’re my favorite person to play with…and I never—um,” he hides his faces his shirt, “want to make you sad.”

your daughter peaks at him and you could swear you could hear the slow music and the chiming bells. you could also bet that the wind is a paid-actor cause when did the window open anyways?

your husband taps your shoulder and points at gojo, who is turning on a fan to give this sweet moment more drama.

and so, after a while, the playdate comes to a close and you’re at the door saying goodbye to the gojos—who you will probably see tomorrow, but whatever.

gojo is leaning against the door as he grins, “let’s do this again soon.”

your husband takes out a cloth to wipe his glasses, “I would rather not.”

you gently elbow him before kneeling beside your daughter, “come on, d/n; say bye to akio and uncle gojo.”

“bye bye, uncle gojo,” she waves and he excitedly waves back then she looks at akio in silence.

the poor boy is overthinking why she isn’t saying goodbye to him and he is probably about to tear up. however, your daughter finally musters up the courage and walks towards him.

they look at each other for a moment before your daughter pecks his cheek and dashes to the car.

akio stares in front of him before becoming a blushing mess and falling to the ground. it’s chaos from there on out.

gojo is cackling like he never laughed before in his life. your husband is speechless and probably planning murder. you’re trying to do your best to calm him down, but it seems like there will be no stopping this man.

family dinners will be so interesting.

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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✰ 𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐏 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.” - Simon gets bored during a very special medal ceremony. Chest Candy isn't exactly what he's after when there's something much sweeter between your legs.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. This is so self indulgent it’s ridiculous. Anti-Monarchy (sue me), cheeky Simon (my favourite kind), vague dirty talk, oral (f receiving) you see PART OF Simon’s face, vague allusion to p in v sex and cream pie. Inspired by this article I found.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

The Crimson red carpet stretches down the aisle to the medal platform, an uncomfortable reminder of the colour of the blood you had to spill to get here. A sea of uniformed SAS colleagues stands before you, making The King look distant from where he handed a medal to those worthy of the chest candy. The golden lighting is giving you a headache, and this ceremony feels as though it's taking forever. He's just a man-

"If we weren't in public right now, I'd have my head between your legs."

Simon's gruff voice so close to your ear has you jumping out of your skin, wide eyes gazing up at him through your lashes as you try to steady yourself from the shock. Was... Was he dirty talking you in the middle of the ceremonial halls of Buckingham Palace?

"Simon-"

"Never been one for pomp an' pageantry," he speaks over you, keeping his voice low as to avoid a very pointed look from Captain Price. Despite leaning down ever so slightly for his whispers to be heard, his eyes stare straight ahead, moving lips concealed by the worn fabric of his ski mask.

"This isn't pomp, Simon. It's Buckingham Palace," you remind him pointedly, a little hiss of frustration bubbling in your throat. Ghost had the habit of choosing the worst times to pull this bullshit-

"Exactly my point, love."

Admittedly, when you saw The Times article a few months ago, you threw up in your mouth. 'SAS get medals in secret palace ceremony'. While each of you had taken a vow to protect (what was then) Queen and Country, years on the field had twisted the priorities of each of the members of Team 141. You could ask any of them why they serve, and it certainly wasn't for this family.

What you honestly hadn't expected, however, was the team's invitation. The invitation, written on a thick, grained card with an embossed royal seal, detailed the team's bravery in the Gulf of Mexico, redirecting the missile aimed towards inhabited land. Ghost had scoffed at the idea of going to Buckingham Palace, but Price had been adamant that all of 141 would be there.

"You know, he's not even served a day in his life," Simon subtly nods towards the medals resting at The King's breast,"' Least Harry saw action."

Keeping your eyes aimed towards the ceremonial stage, you swallow back a grimace at Simon's truthful observation. Sure, he wasn't wrong, but it took everything in you not to dare Ghost to say it to the monarch's face.

Because you're sure as shit that he would.

"Whatd'ya say?" Simon whispers, his voice dropping a tad lower and dripping with eroticism, "There's an open door at your six, Delta. Make it worth your while."

Before you even check over your shoulder to see if his observation is accurate, you're turning on your heel, whispering to the king's guard patrolling the open double doors that you need the toilet- that you are desperate.

One of those admissions is true.

✰

"What took you so lo-ng?!" You gasp out as Ghost's tongue curls around your sensitive clit.

"Recon, love," he muses, the rumble of his voice against your throbbing cunt making you throw your head back against the wall of the bathroom stall, "Couldn't just follow after you into the women's loos, could I?"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimper, pushing your fingers into Simon's buzzcut hair and shoving his face deeper into your cunt. His words had shot straight to your clit when he entered the bathroom, eyelids heavy and voice as rough as glass on gravel.

"Eyes shut, panties down."

When his bare lips and nose pressed to your wet pussy lips, you could have cum right there, threats of a fierce orgasm roughly pushing up against the base of your spine. You wrap your thighs around his head now, wailing out his name as your eyes roll back.

"Shhh," he mumbles against your soaked cunt, but it's so hard to take note of his warnings when they're drowned out by even louder sloppy, messy sucks of your sensitive flesh. He's swallowing your juices down, groans ricocheting off the bathroom walls.

"Fuck, Princess," he's never used that name for you, and you know it's only because of the frankly ridiculous circumstances, but your cunt clenches around his tongue when he shoves it inside of you anyway, "Mhmm, so fuhgin' wet."

He's slurring his words as he plunges his tongue deeper, but he won't shut up. A chorus of "good girl" s and "like that" s and "c'mon" s have you pushing your hips up into his face and grasping at the smooth walls of the bathroom stall.

"Oh my God, Simon!" You sob weakly, tears welling in your eyes as he sinks his fingers into your throbbing cunt. He finds your G-spot instantly, far too acquainted with each curve and crevice of your body—too many reccy missions with his hands down your pants.

"Hah," he pulls back, breathless pants rumbling in his chest. The sound makes your back arch, chasing his lips again with your pelvis, "Gonna swear allegiance to me?"

His corny joke is almost lost on you; eyes rolling back into your skull as you grip at his short hair between your curled fingers. "L-Last I checked, yo-you were on your knees for m-me!"

It doesn't matter that you squeak out the last word of your ballsy sentence; it lands exactly as you intended it to. Simon stalls for a moment.

You don't mean to. You don't! But your eyes snap open at the sudden stalling of the blissful sensation. Simon's amber eyes gaze up at you from his position between your thighs. They frame his face, covering his ears. Your pubic bone smothers his lower visage, covering the bridge of his nose to his chin.

Squeaking, you squeeze your eyes shut. Blonde. Simon's blonde, and a white scar runs down his left eyebrow and eyelid.

"Naughty," you hear him smirk at your startled reaction, a breathy, exhaled chuckle fanning across your wet pussy lips, "Guess I'll have to fuck you so hard that you forget what you just saw."

When you return to the ceremonial hall, the guards on the door keep their eyes uncomfortably fixed on the crimson carpet. You wish you could say that your shaking legs are from nerves when you step onto the ceremonial stage to receive your medal from The King.

The smug gaze of the skull face in the crowd is a reminder of otherwise, his cum leaking into the fabric of your uniform as you bow for the monarch.

Authors Note: Congrats on your coronation, "King" Charles... Would be a shame if Diana made it rain on your big day. ;)

join the taglist here:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @Malici0uspuff1n

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goldsainz · 8 months

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CANDY — one shot.

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

2K CELEBRATION. MASTERLIST.

taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @schumacheer @saintslewis @leoramage

request: “can i get ‘candy - rosalía + mick schumacher’ please?? thank you!” by @hevburn

NOTE: this song is too good… i need y’all to listen to it bc rosalia’s vocals are top tier. i love how i’m making so many summer fics to compensate the fact that i’m freezing bc it’s winter in my country😭 sprinkled in some drama bc why not

liked by mickschumacher, dualipa and 807,263 others

yourusername verano de soltería single summer

view all 12,108 comments

ynfan1 i need her reaction to mick dating a girl who looks just like her😭

⤷ mickfan1 THISSS

mickfan2 mick liking this💔

mickfan3 never getting over them

gina_schumacher 🩷

liked by yourusername and 10,637 others

ynfan2 when you remember that mick said they fell in love in the summer🥲

⤷ mickfan4 this hurt me

mickfan5 GINA COMMENTING

ynfan3 mick fumbled badly

mickfan6 if my bf was liking his (liked by everyone) ex i wouldn’t know what to do with myself

ynfan4 LA MEJOR EX-WAG THE BEST EX-WAG

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saskiarhode ❤️

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mickfan21 girl are you not embarrassed

mickfan22 we love a micky/n fan!

ynfan21 I NEED YOU TO BE SO SERIOUS

mickfan23 you sure did more than meet him😭

ynfan22 my fav y/n fan😍

mickschumacher ❤️

⤷ ynfan23 como y/n no hay NINGUNA theres NOBODY like y/n

⤷ mickfan24 mick blink twice if she’s holding you hostage

mickschumacher has uploaded an instagram story!

yourusername has uploaded an instagram story!

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yourusername escuche que te gustaban las rubias i heard you liked blondes

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ynfan31 SHE LOOKS SO GOOD

ynfan32 the caption😭

mickfan31 i just know mick saw this and cried

⤷ ynfan33 as he should!! she’s a queen

ynfan34 que mujer por diosss what a woman my goddd

rosalia.vt MONÍSIMA BEAUTIFUL

⤷ yourusername mira quien habla😘 looks who’s talking

ynfan35 saskia has nothing on her

user31 suddenly brunettes are my type

⤷ mickfan32 MICK THIS YOU???

ynfan36 the micky/n ship has truly died

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uluvjay · 3 months

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Couldn’t help falling in love- Q. Hughes

Quinn Hughes x Fem! Reader (feat. Trevor Zegras)

In which you can’t help falling for Quinn

Warnings?; Slight angst, asshole Trevor, slightly suggestive, cursing, kissing, talks of drinking, playboy Trevor?, I apologize for any errors

Prev Part

You and Quinn had left the following night while everyone was asleep, he had told his brothers of your plan but nobody else knew.

According to Jack, Trevor thought you’d gone home to New York and believed that Quinn had to make an unexpected return to Vancouver over something with his apartment.

You and Quinn spent a week in the Bahamas, long days under the sun and in the ocean while your nights were full of delicious food and long talks on the balcony of your room.

Something had shifted during that week, you weren’t sure what it was but whatever it was had you making no moves to stop him when he pressed his lips against your on the last night.

When he pulled away you were as red as a fire truck and it wasn’t from the sunburn you had, and that night you two shared a bed rather then sleeping in your own separate queen beds.

However the second you two entered the airport you felt dread fill your stomach, he held a ticket to return to Michigan while yours was for New York.

There was an admission of feelings in the middle of the airport from Quinn, he had explained that he liked you and had for a while. Yoy told him you liked him back, Quinn made you feel a warmth in your chest that you had never experienced with anyone else before, not even Trevor.

However you opened up about how you were scared about getting into something right now and he understood. So over the next couple of months you two resorted into nonstop texting that had turned into late FaceTime calls that would go on for hours.

Until finally in March you had gotten a job to decorate a home all the way in Vancouver that would need you to stay there for at least three weeks and upon hearing the news, Quinn was thrilled.

He opened his apartment to you and you spent your entire trip wrapped up with him, movie marathons, Quinn showing you around to his favorite places, dinners, ice cream, and anything else the boy could think of.

You felt confident and content with Quinn, the way he always had a strong arm wrapped around you and introduced you as ‘His Girl’ to his teammates when you attended one of him games.

The butterflies in your stomach and persistent blush on your cheeks didn’t go away once while you were in Vancouver, and you weren’t mad about it.

Over the previous months you had taken time to grow as a person, learned to love yourself and noticed that what you felt with Trevor wasn’t true love.

It was silly feelings you’d had since you were younger, you had feelings for someone that didn’t exist anymore. You had feelings for the young and silly Trevor, the one who would stay up with you for hours playing board games and snacking on candy that went against his diet.

Not the Trevor that had grown during his time in the Nhl, the still silly and witty Trevor but he’d grown cocky. He had become someone new, someone you didn’t recognize. He no longer knew your favorite things and you didn’t know his.

He’d became the poster boy that scored cool goals and worked his ass off. The pretty boy that puck bunnies and models lined up for, the boy that could care less about your achievements and feelings. The boy that disregarded your emotions and blew up on you.

What you felt with Quinn was new, fresh, your chest wasn’t filled with anxiety and worry. It was now warm and full of love, you didn’t worry when you told him you were ready for more if he was too.

That night he showed you just how ready he was, he took you to dinner at his favorite restaurant, then when you returned to his apartment he walked you to his bedroom and took off your clothes one by one.

He took care of your body in a way you never felt before, it wasn’t sex, he made love to you. He took his time and learned your body, learned the things that pulled those little whimpers from your throat, and the things that made you cry out his name loud enough for his neighbors to hear.

He woke you up the next morning with flowers and breakfast in bed, he made all your favorite breakfast foods and had gotten your favorite flowers.

After the two of you ate he had asked you to be his girlfriend, and he’d never felt such joy before when you said yes and pulled him into a deep kiss.

And now you two were gearing up for your arrival to the lake house. Sitting in the backseat of an Uber on the way to the house.

Trevor was already there along with Cole, Alex, and some of the other guys that came every year.

“Nervous?” Quinn asked softly from his spot beside you, his thumb rubbing soothingly along you legging covered thigh.

“Not really, I missed your brothers and everyone. It’s just going to be weird seeing Trevor after what happened.” You shrugged, eyes looking out the window.

“Hey” he called softly, hooking a finger under your chin and turning your head to face him. “It’ll be okay. It’s my house and if he has a problem then he can leave”

You smiled at him and whispered a small thank you and before you knew it you were pulling up to the large lake house.

Quinn got out first and made his way around to the back of the car to get your bags while you gathered up your things and took a deep breath before exiting the car.

Jack was already waiting on the porch when you two got there. There was a large smile on his face as he pulled his brother in a tight hug despite his dripping hair and soaked body, No doubt getting right out of the pool when he heard a car pull up.

He moved onto you next and an evil smirk over took his face as he watched you step back from not wanting to get wet.

“No I’ll give you a hug once you dry off.” You laughed trying to get around him and into the house, however you weren’t fast enough and he had you up in the air running outside.

You could hear Quinn laughing as he followed behind and as you made it outside the familiar hoots and hollers of Luke and his friends filled the air.

“Jack, no! Don’t do it.” You laughed as he neared the edge of the pool.

“Give me one good reason”

“If you won’t then I won’t kick your a-“ however you were cut off as your body was submerged in ice cold water.

“Jack Rowden! You asshole.” You coughed as you made it back to the top.

The boy was bent over in laughter as he clenched his stomach while your boyfriend was beside him offering you his hand with a towel in the other.

“Come on I got you.” He laughed and you took his hand allowing him to Pull you from the cold water and wrap you in a fluffy towel.

You pushed Jack in from his spot next to you, a laugh of your own bubbling from your throat as his body splashed into the water.

“Payback bitch!” You called behind you as you wrapped your arm around Quinn’s waist and made your way back into the house.

You took a fast shower in Quinn’s bathroom before returning to the room where he was unpacking your suitcases.

“Can you hand me a bathing suit and one of your shirts please.” You asked him softly.

Quinn nodded as he reached into your suitcase and grabbed the first one he saw, a dark blue one to match his jerseys.

He smirked as he remembered you ordering it a few weeks ago, “come here.” He called.

You blushed as you shuffled over to him, his large hands removing the towel you had wrapped around your body. He grabbed the bottoms and kneeled down in front of you, holding them open for you to step into them before he slid them up your smooth legs.

He picked up the flimsy top before motioning for you to spin around, he placed the cups over your breasts before securing the bottom ties, his hands slowly moving up to tie the top ones.

You shivered as you felt his warm breath against your neck, his beard prickling your skin as his lips kissed along the side of your throat.

“Your brothers and friends are downstairs.” You whimpered as his hands reached around your body, fingertips tracing along the top of your bottoms.

“I don’t care.” He shrugged.

A squeal broke from you as your body was spun around quickly and his warm lips were against yours, his hands slipping down to your thighs while yours went to tug the hairs at the back of his neck.

He kissed you deeper as he picked you up and placed you on his dresser, his teeth nipped at your lower lip before they began to trail down your body.

His lips were inches from your breast when his door swung open, and an all to familiar voice filled the room.

“Quinn my favorite broth-what the hell?” Trevor stopped in his tracks as his eyes caught you perched on Quinn’s dresser with the defenseman between your thighs.

Trevor’s eyes locked on yours and while you were sure your face was full of shock and embarrassment His eyes were dark and clouded with anger.

“What’s she doing here?” He scoffed.

“You mean what’s my girlfriend doing here? I invited her.” Quinn smirked.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yes and I’d appreciate it if you got out, we’ll be downstairs in a moment.” Quinn smiled all too politely for the emotions that were brewing behind his eyes.

Trevor replied with a scoff before turning around and making his way out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

“He ruined the mood didn’t he?”

“Yep” you breathed looking at Quinn apologetically.

He sighed but moved back and helped you off the dresser before pulling one of his shirts over your head and guiding you downstairs.

Everyone-including Trevor were gathered in the kitchen, Some people had beers and seltzers while others had food and fruits in their hands.

“Y/n!” Cole smiled as he noticed you, pushing Trevor out of the way so he could wrap you in a hug.

“His Cole.” You smiled as you hugged the boy back.

“How’ve you been?” He asked.

“Cole we were just talking the other day.” You giggled.

“So? I haven’t physically seen you in forever.” He scoffed before giving you one more squeeze and returning to his food.

“So when did you two get together?” Trevor smirked yearning him a smack on the arm from Jack.

“When she came to visit in over March but we’ve known we wanted each other since our trip last summer.” Quinn shrugged.

“What trip?” Trevor asked confused and there were a few people that agreed with him.

“When I was gone for that week like mid June, me and Y/n went to the Bahamas.” He explained.

“Wait I thought she went home and you went to Vancouver because something happened with your place.” Trevor asked even more confused now.

“Nope, I was packing to go home when Quinn asked if I wanted to go away and I said sure.” You shrugged.

Trevor didn’t give you a reply, nor did he care to stick around. He grabbed his water bottle and made his way outside towards the backyard.

“Well this should be a fun summer.” Luke coughed causing the entire group to nod in agreement.

The following weeks were much of the same, boat rides, late nights by the fire, hook ups in the back of Quinn’s jeep, and Trevor acting like a complete ass.

Most days would be filled with snarky comments at any chance he got, and quite frankly you were getting sick of it, and you weren’t the only one.

Jack as well as Cole had said something to him multiple times about acting like a child and being petty but it never deterred the boy.

Alex had told him that he needed to be an adult and talk things out with you and see things from your side. You had left liked he asked and moved on with your life but he was still stuck on the fact that you’d gone and got with one of his good friends.

“Maybe i should just say something.” You suggested to Quinn as you could feel Trevor’s eyes on you through the sliding doors of the kitchen.

“I’m not going to tell you no because a conversation between you two is needed, however it shouldn’t be you that initiates it. It should be him.” Quinn spoke, he was also tired of how Trevor was acting but he knew that there was unresolved issues between you two.

You thought about his words for a moment and you almost agreed until you watched Jack get up and walk into the house, leaving Trevor out by the fire alone.

“Fuck it, I’m sick of him so I’ll just be the bigger person.” You sighed, sitting down the drink in your hand and taking a deep breath.

“Good luck baby, yell for me if you need me.” Quinn encouraged with a small kiss to your head.

“Thanks.” You breathed and began your way outside.

The second his eyes met your form Trevor was standing from his seat, however the sternness of your voice stopped him from moving any further.

“Sit down, we need to talk.”

“Why would I want to talk to you?” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because you won’t stop being a dick and I’m tired of it. So we’re going to have a conversation as adults to figure why you’re so pissed that I’m here.” You explained.

“I’m not pissed that you’re here, I’m pissed that you’re here with him. Just a year ago you were telling Jack how you were in love with me and now you’re dating his brother?.” He spat.

“What’s it your business if Im dating him or not?.” You asked.

“Because, You said you loved me and then went off and got with him!.” He yelled.

You let his words sink in for a minute, what was he trying to say? Did he love you?

“What are you trying to say Trevor?” You asked softly.

“Nothing, just forget about it.” He shook his head.

“No don’t say it’s nothing and go quiet now, the last three weeks you’ve had a lot to say. So speak up and tell me what the hell is going on with you.” You demanded.

“I-I’m not sure okay! Seeing you with him makes my chest hurt, I get so angry when he touches you, or kisses you, hearing him call you nicknames makes my skin crawl. Seeing you be with someone like him makes me realize how badly i screwed up.” He cried.

“So I guess that’s why I’ve been so rude, I was still upset about last summer and I hoped that we could talk things out but then you showed up here, with him and I decided to let my emotions take control.” He continued, his eyes locked on yours.

“So what, you blew up on me for having feelings for you, ignored the texts I sent you for the first two days after, and then when I show up here with Quinn you all of a sudden have feelings for me or something?!” You asked, anger quickly filling your body.

“I don’t know if I have feelings for you but I’ve never felt this way after seeing you with a guy before.” He explained.

“Well now you know how it feels, now you know how shitty I felt when you invited me here just to spent half the nights with random blondes. Now you know how my heart felt when you would be all over me just to take home someone else at the end of the night.” You started.

“It fucking sucks wanting someone that will never want you Trevor, it suck’s when everyone around you gives you pity filled looks when that person is flirting with others in front of you. And now that I finally have someone that doesn’t and would never make me feel the way you have, you all of a sudden want me? Yeah no thanks.” You scoff with a shake of your head.

“Where did your feelings for me go though? They just don’t disappear over night.”

“No trevor they don’t, and it took me a long time to figure out what exactly the feelings I had for you were. I spent nights crying remembering how good things were before you went pro, how you’d make me laugh and always be there for me. But I also sobbed while remembering all the hurtful things you did that I let slide.” You shrugged, eyes filling with tears at the memory.

“What horrible things? Huh? I was always a good friend.” He scoffed.

“Like making me leave my own birthday party in freshmen year because you needed a ride back from some girls, leaving me drunk and alone on multiple occasions just so you could get lucky, leaving me at some restaurant last year because your hookup was horny and then making me cover the bill knowing I just barely had the money, and let’s not forget you making my entire graduation dinner about you.” You shot, eyes locked on his as you recounted just some of the events that he’d made you feel horrible.

“Okay..so maybe I wasn’t the greatest friend.” He shrugged.

“That’s for sure.” You scoffed, moving to take a seat in one of the chairs that circled the fire pit.

There were a few beats of silence between you two before Trevor finally took a seat beside you and spoke up.

“You really don’t feel anything for me anymore?.” He asked softly.

“I think a part of me will always love you but not in the way I love Quinn. I still see you as one of my best friends despite everything, at a point in time you knew every little thing about me and we have a lot of happy memories together but I’m not in love with you anymore.” You replied just as soft.

He smiled at you sadly, “There’s nothing I can do?”

“No Z I’m sorry, you had your chance and instead of being rational you made me leave and treated me differently. I’m sorry you’re just now realizing how you felt for me but I have someone that loves and cherishes me and I really hope you find that someone one day too.” You smiled.

He nodded as he sucked in a shaky breath before standing, “Hug?” He questioned.

You nodded before standing and wrapping your arms around his middle, his hands wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

You couldn’t lie you’d missed Trevor’s hugs, they were always nice but feeling his arms around you didn’t cause the same butterflies they used to and the thought of that made you smile.

He pulled away first his hands patting your shoulders awkwardly before he spoke up once again, “I think I need to go apologize to Quinn.”

You nodded in agreement and told him he was probably in the living room but that you’d be staying outside, you needed a moment to think everything over.

A couple minutes later you heard the doors slide open and a body block your line of sight, looking up you were meant with a smiling Quinn.

“Hi” you breathed.

“Hi honey.” He greeted before motioning you to stand up and taking your place, but pulling you onto his lap seconds later.

“Did he apologize?” You asked once you got comfortable on his lap.

“Yeah, said you made him realize some things.” He replied softly, his large hand running along your arm.

“Yeah.” You breathed leaning further into his touch.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked politely.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is fine by me baby.” He cooed and pulled your body tighter against his as you both watched the fire and bask in each other.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #trevor zegras #nhl #trevor zegras x you #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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ritcchamadayo · 1 year

Text

a little self-indulgent, but-

Meeting the Family! Ft. TWST Beastmen / Mermen

[headcanons / imagines]

TWST's Beastmen / Mermen x Reader ;

For the Winter Holidays, you were invited by your boyfriend to visit them at home! You happily accept, but you never know what happens when going to a non-human gathering...

(this is mostly going by my own personal hcs and whatever little tidbits TWST had given us about their families ;;;; TWST please do a family reveal..)

Beastmen

Kingscholar Royal Family

Cue Cheka running towards you in full speed :

Cheka already accepted you as his older sibling since you met on Campus!! He's happy someone's taking care of his Oji-tan at school and helping Ruggie out!

Falena on the other hand is a bit of a wild card. You'd be surprised, who knew the King of Sunset Savanna was so... carefree? He treats you really well as the King and as Leona's brother, and all around just really excited. Sibling-in-law soon i hope~? He'd jump around in joy upon meeting you!

Leona and Falena both had the utmost respect for the Savanna's females and Falena's wife, Leona's Sister-in-law, stood quite high in that hierarchy.. needless to say, she's a really well-respected queen within the kingdom and very responsible. But you seem to have piqued her interest, and she's warming up to you quickly! She'd hold herself back from trying to groom you like she would with Cheka, Falena, or Leona sometimes!

Leona would definitely try to swat away his family from bothering you too much just because they're interested. When else does your Prince, Younger Brother to the King himself, bring back a potential mate?

Cheka would love cuddling up to you! Leona would forcefully pull Cheka away because he also wants to cuddle up to you- but hey, you could take a nap surrounded by warm lion beastmen so you don't need to worry about getting cold!

Bucchi Family

Ruggie's grandma adores you!!! She's so happy to see that her dear Ruggie has found someone who'd look after him and feed him!! She'd prepare Ruggie's favorite donuts upon knowing he's coming back with you, and would definitely try to make you eat as much as possible. She loves her grandchildren, and even though living in poverty, she'd do anything to make you and Ruggie happy.

The kids in the neighborhood though, oh boy. At first they'd be all pouty and angry at you, sometimes sending a snarl or a growl your way. But Ruggie stepped in, and you realize that they just didn't want anyone to take away their big bro away!

It's easy enough to get them to warm up to you though! If you brought along plenty of treats for them, they'd flock around you and would be on their best behavior. Good food, good life. Even just a little candy would get them happy!

Bucchi-grandma would definitely remind you to not give them (or Ruggie) too much sugar. You don't want them to go bonkers on sugar rush.. that would destroy the entire place! Ruggie's more responsible now, but you cant help but wonder how he'd look like on a sugar rush when he was small.

Bucchi-grandma adores when you help out with the chores. She gets tired quite fast doing chores every day, but with Ruggie and you helping out, she could finally sit back and relax. And she's so grateful to you!

Howl Family

Jack's pack is definitely an active bunch. Jack's father, would definitely be on high alert. He doesn't want anybody hurting his pup, even though he's all grown up. And moreover, he doesn't want the newcomer to break apart the pack Jack's grandparents had established together in the Shaftlands.

They're definitely a teensy bit territorial, but it only extends to the area around their house. Jack's grandparents, the leaders of the pack, doesn't necessarily bother their children's affairs much but they'd want someone who could blend into the pack and form a relationship as close as family with the rest of the pack!

Jack's mom was wary too at first, but she'd be the one to warm up to you faster and start coaxing her husband to let his guard down. "Jack's brought home a good pup dear, maybe you should give them a chance. He's all grown up now, and it won't be long until he makes his own pack."

Jack's dad would warm up to you after that. He's a little awkward on showing his emotions (which his wife had laughed at) but he's trying his best!! Congrats! Howl-papa now accepts you as Jack's mate! (though Jack may have a few words to say regarding them calling you his mate already... man's just embarrassed.)

Oh Jack's younger siblings love having you around! They'd be shy and hide behind their mother at first, but when Jack called them over to meet and introduce you, you'd find that they're such sweet kids! It'll take a while for them to get fully comfortable but don't worry, with Jack by your side, they'll come around!

Mermen

Ashengrotto Family

Ashengrotto-mama loves your company! The first thing you see as you enter Azul's house was this badass lady using all 10 of her limbs to cook up a storm! She even freed a few limbs to give you a little greeting hug!

Ashengrotto-papa doesn't show his enthusiasm as much as his wife, but he greeted you properly nonetheless. While Ashengrotto-mama is the businesswoman of the family, Ashengrotto-papa was the one knowledgeable of laws. No wonder Azul made himself a successful business! (All the while avoiding crimes with his shady activities...)

Ashengrotto-mama would definitely fall for you too when you help her with cooking or compliment her dishes. Despite running a restaurant under the sea, she's very knowledgeable about cooking for humans and her dishes were stellar, you can't help but fall for her too.

At first they were surprised to hear from Azul that he had found a human partner, but after seeing how you acted lovingly around him in his octo-mer form and all in all simply loving him for who he is, his parents were glad. Azul may have had a hard time back in the days about his body, but he's been getting the confidence boost he needed from you and that's all the Ashengrottos could ever wish for!

Ashengrotto-papa would be the one holding in the emotional tears, he's so happy that his son found someone who loves him just the way Azul is. Considering this is Ashengrotto-mama's second marriage as well, and her original husband was nowhere to be found as Azul was growing up, he's simply glad Azul found someone and that his love life was far smoother than Ashengrotto-papa's or Ashengrotto-mama's. He's grown up into a fine young man with you by his side.

Ashengrotto-grandma simply watches on fondly, she loves seeing her grandchild happy <3

Leech Family

The first time you met them, oh boy, you might have mistook them for some sort of mafia family. I swear they're not!!!!! They're just a normal family!!!!!! The sharp-teethed smirk scared you at first, but hey, you've spent a while with literal twins with the same traits. You'll survive, right?

Their parents definitely bet on who's gonna find a partner first

You could find so many similarities between the pair of eel-mers with their two sons! Like how Leech-mama's as excitable as Floyd but also a worrywart like how Jade is sometimes, or how Leech-papa's calmness mirrored Jade but he can show his cocky, confident side sometimes that mirrored Floyd's. The two made for a real power couple 👉👈 but they love both twins equally!

Leech-mama would be over the moon! She'd swim up to you and hug you and your boyfriend with her entire body, exclaiming about how happy she was that her son found someone he cares for on the land. She'd make for a bone-crushing hug, but thank goodness it's not you getting crushed, it's the eel twins.

Leech-papa would be skeptical at first. Considering his placement at business and how people like to butter him up using gifts, he'd thought the humans up on land wanted to strike a deal with him or something. But once he's gotten to know you, he'd be a jolly dad and won't stop teasing his sons about the relationship! ("So have you tried doing *it* in your merform?" "DAD WHAT THE FUCK-")

Leech-mama would definitely make you promise to look out for her boys (both of them) while on the land, so that they don't get into unnecessary trouble.. kudos if you could reel in Azul as well knowing that those three were as tight-knit as ever.

(If you took Jade as your boyfriend) It's Leech-papa's win! He won't stop bragging to his wife how he won the bet. "I told you, people would go for a gentleman like our Jade!" Jade thinks it's amusing that his parents bet on them, and would proudly brag about you to his family. Even if it was her loss, Leech-mama would be cooing over you two for ages! (She definitely didn't give Jade signals to treat you like an absolute royalty... Okay, she might have, but Jade already treats you like one anyway~)

(If you took Floyd as your boyfriend) It's Leech-mama's win! She'd be swimming circles around your group and laughing at her husband while bragging. "See! Our Floyd's such a blast to be around, people would fall for him!" Floyd laughed and swam around alongside his mom, and you could even see him clinging on her side while they zoom around you. You could've sworn you felt obligated to join them on the zooming!

(additional - If you date both at once) Aww! Leech-mama and Leech-papa would have to call it quits on the betting, but they'd take a small W for whoever made the first move~ They're going to definitely pull their two boys and you for a giant family hug~! They're elated that their boys have found someone who loves the twins as much as their parents do!

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Text

Let Me Treat You Like A Queen, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: Rafe shows Y/N that chivalry isn't dead.

A/N: This is inspired by this.

Masterlist

Dating Rafe Cameron has been a whirlwind experience. No one thought that he could be a sweetheart or care so much for another human being. But when it comes to Y/N Y/L/N, he shows the world his chivalrous side. They are exiting the restaurant when the storm clouds start to form. The once clear dark sky is now being filled with gray cotton candy. They hadn’t planned for rain; it wasn’t supposed to come, so the couple had no jackets or umbrellas to protect them during their walk back to his car. Rafe was there while she spent an hour straightening her hair and he watched as she flinched away from the first drop that tumbled from the sky. He also knew that she spent another hour on her makeup. With nothing else to cover his girlfriend, he starts unbuttoning his collared shirt out of her sight. He catches up to her just as she is about to cross the street. He twists his shirt over her head to shield her from the dribbling sky.

She looks up to examine the material and her eyes widen at the realization as to what it is. She tries to pull the shirt down, “Rafe, put your shirt back on. You are going to get sick.” “I’m fine. It's summer. I’m warm enough. Let me treat you like a queen, Angel,” he retorts, standing his ground. Her eye contact shies away from him. The rest of the walk to his car is silent.

———

The crowded library only has one source of noise emitting from it and that’s how Y/N knows where to go to find her boyfriend. She arrives at the table at the back to find all the seats around it occupied. She is about to search for a chair elsewhere when Rafe stands up and holds the chair out for her. She hesitantly takes a step forward, “Are you sure, Rafe? I can go look for another chair.” “It’s okay. I want to stand anyway. I need to stretch my legs,” he objects, coming around the chair to wrap his arms around her shoulders. He kisses her cheek and she leans back in his hold. “Thank you, Rafe,” she whispers.

———

Her deep slumber is coming to an end as the sunlight creeps in through the curtains. She rises from her lying position and the aroma of freshly ground coffee fills her nose. She knows what the smell means. She snuggles further into the blanket and waits for his door to slowly open. He steadily walks through with her Minnie Mouse mug in one hand and his Mickey Mouse one in the other. He comes around to her side of the bed, kissing her forehead while placing the mug on her side table. “Good morning, Angel.” She beams at him as she goes to take a sip from her drink, “Good morning. And thank you for the drink.” He settles into his side of the bed and slings an arm over her shoulders to pull her into a cuddle. “No problem. What should we watch?” he asks, picking up the remote from his side table. “Hmm, let’s watch Bodies.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama

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sunrise-imagines · 7 months

Note

omg I'm really in the need of candy queen content so could I request fem!reader x candy queen hcs

candy queen comforting reader ☝️🧐

Absolutely! Hope you enjoy! Reader uses she/her pronouns in this one.

*Contains spoilers for episode 3(? I think) of Fionna and Cake*

TW: Obsessive behavior

Candy Queen x Fem!Reader Relationship Headcanons

• She looooves singing to you, and would love even more if you joined in one of her songs.

• Could cuddle with you all day long, even if you need to get up and walk around she’ll still cling to you like a monkey.

• Pleeeaaase let her feed you sweets!

• Gets jealous easily, and will pout and whine that you’re not giving her enough attention.

• If you’re ever sad, she’ll try and tell you jokes to make you laugh or bring you your favorite foods. If none of that works, she doesn’t really know what to do and just kinda sits with you and talks about random stuff.

• Like Ice King she can sometimes lose her temper and snap at you, but after cooling down she always apologizes and assures you that she’d never actually do anything to hurt you, although you aren’t so sure about that.

• Now that she has a girlfriend she only goes to the Winter Kingdom to show you off. She’ll burst in from the wall with her arm around you and shout, “HEY KING, I GOTTA GIRLFRIEND NOW AND SHE’S WAYYYY BETTA’ THAN YOU!!!”

• She knows it can get a little boring in the Candy Kingdom, so she tries to set up little things like game nights and puppet shows to entertain you.

• At first she tried to make you a room in her cell, but after seeing that you weren’t very happy in there she let you stay with her in her room. Just don’t touch her stuff without asking permission.

• You’re the only one that can touch her hair, but don’t bother trying to brush it. Whenever you finally get it to behave and lay down flat, as soon as you take a step back it springs back up into it’s naturally messy shape. She likes sitting there while you touch her hair though.

• She has definitely written fan fiction about you, casting you as a brave hero that comes to save her from being kidnapped by an evil king.

• Sees most outsiders as a threat to your safety, and will lock you up in her cage to “protect” you while she goes and deals with it.

• After she transforms back into her true form, she doesn’t really remember much about your relationship, but she still finds herself being attracted to you and will be happy to have the opportunity to properly court you.

#adventure time x reader #adventure time imagines #fionna and cake x reader #fionna and cake fanfic #fionna and cake imagine #adventure time fanfic #adventure time #candy queen x reader #candy queen #princess bubblegum x reader #bonnibel bubblegum x reader #sfw #sfw headcanons #female reader

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smileysuh · 11 months

Text

Big Bear & Bee

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You swallow thickly, leaning back against Johnny while you gain your courage. You know he’s not the type to force anything on you, and something tells you that if you don’t make this first move, you might miss your chance. Turning in his arms, you look up into the bear hybrid's chocolate brown eyes. Then you’re kissing him, putting all the passion that’s been brewing into the meeting of your lips. You thread your fingers through his soft hair, eager to get close to him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

tw/cw. protected sex, multiple positions (girl on top/missionary), pussy eating, praise, dirty talk, bear hybrid x human, fingering, overstim, size kink, big dick!Johnny, pussy stretching, slow burn, mentions of baby/child fever, sex while she wears a dress, etc... I pet names: (hers) bee, princess, gorgeous. (his) John, Big Bear.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.9k

🍭 aus. hybrid, bear/uncle!Johnny, human/honey shop worker!y/n, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. huge thank you to @sehunniepot for helping me through writing this and being my beta reader- Nikki is truly one of my best friends, and if you haven't already checked out her writing, she's got John fics for days - her Olympian Johnny is one of my favorite fics ever 💕

As a bear hybrid, Johnny has been in many honey shops in his life. He’s frequented hole-in-the-wall mama and papa honey selling places. He’s visited corporate brand locations so big and full of different types of honey that they made his head spin. He’s even given a chance to side of the road, farm fresh honey sellers.

Even with all of this experience, there’s only one place that he’s truly come to love, and that’s Queen B’s Honey Company.

Nestled between an ice cream parlour and a fifties style salon on an old street on the side of town, near the farming district, Queen B’s has a certain charm that’s always scratched Johnny’s honey itch just right.

With soft cream coloured walls, and touches of old wood that line the space in shelves and fill the room with various display tables, the store is somewhere between scandi and revitalized farm aesthetic, a style that Johnny adores.

Housing a wide array of honey, in sticks, jars, canisters and tubs, the honey shop has everything a bear like John could ever need, and that’s not even including all the hand made pottery that sits on the top shelves. Plants are speckled here and there, adding a floral scent to the sweetness in the air that’s inherent to the Queen B establishment.

There’s art too, all somehow relating to honey, and everywhere you look, there’s a recurring theme of bees and bears.

It’s a tale as old as time - the bears and the bees - and one that has always immediately brought the hybrid an indescribable sense of peace.

Even with all of this, however, Johnny’s favourite part about the store has to be the kind workers that calmly bustle around, always quick to lend a hand or ask how his day is going. Specifically, you draw Johnny in like no amount of honey ever could, and he’s pleased to arrive at the store once a week to often find you working.

Johnny might be a big shot club owner and entrepreneur by night, but by day - especially in the comfort of Queen B’s - Johnny sees himself as more of a calm dude just trying to support a local business. Despite his attraction to you, he’d hate to put himself out there and make you uncomfortable - at your workplace no less - so in the months he’s been frequenting your establishment, your short interactions have only ever pertained to honey, and he can live with that.

The front bell chimes softly as Johnny enters Queen B’s, and Johnny meets your smile with a grin of his own. “Good morning!” you call out, a common greeting that still somehow makes his heart beat loudly in his chest.

“Hi,” he nods, breaking your gaze to inspect the front display, where all your store’s new products are laid out like candy in a candy shop for the honey-loving bear hybrid.

He tries to be nonchalant, but as the only person in the store, Johnny knows he’s captured your attention. There are days when he’s one of a handful, and you often take care of those who’ve come before him, only to head his way and ask if there’s anything you can help him find. Today, he has all your attention, and it takes effort for him not to watch you approach.

There’s something about the soft yellow apron that you always wear, or the yellow scrunchies and ribbons in your hair. Your white t-shirt and blue jean ensemble under your work apron is just as much a part of the beautiful colour scheme, and there’s no three colours in the world that Johnny likes together more than cream, honey, and denim blue, especially on you.

“We’ve got new honey sticks,” you tell him, as you come to join him by the front display. He loves how you know what he normally buys, that you remember him so well.

“I see that,” he nods, sneaking a glance up at you. “Are they any good?”

You nod. “Very good, at least, I think so.” You begin to tell him where the honey is sourced - from a local apiary - and the way that the honey sticks are naturally flavoured with the seasonal blackberries, raspberries and other such ingredients that grow in the surrounding area, all organic of course.

Johnny listens, although half of his mind is much more pleasantly occupied watching your lips. The way you speak has always enchanted the bear hybrid, and he’s more than happy to watch you work hard to give him all the information you can.

“Sounds good,” Johnny says when you’re done. “I might just have to get five of each.”

“I can prepare that for you if you’d like to continue looking around,” you smile. “We also restocked the blackberry honey jars from Overgrove Apiary. I know we were out last week and you got something else, so…well, I called our merchandiser over there and got a new batch just yesterday.”

You're a woman after his own heart…and maybe also his money, but Johnny can never tell if your interest in him is beyond that of a professional.

“Thanks, I really appreciate that,” Johnny tells you honestly, watching you begin to collect five of each honey stick into a simple brown paper bag for him.

“Don’t mention it,” you say softly. “Anything for a regular.”

He wonders again if that’s all he is to you, a regular, and Johnny finds himself putting his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, fiddling with the golden ring on his thumb. “It’s nice to be taken care of,” he says finally.

Your eyes meet, and you’re quick to look away, but the soft smile on your face is enough to make Johnny’s heart race again.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today? Or just the honey sticks and blackberry jar?”

“I think this is good for now,” he tells you, following when you immediately turn to head to the till.

It’s a nice silence as he watches you check everything through the system, and when you give him the total, he pulls out his soft, brown leather wallet from his back pocket. He always pays in cash, and despite the fact that he never asks for change, opting to give you a tip that goes into the tip jar, you still ask if he’d like the coins back.

It’s one of Johnny’s joys of the week to tell you, “keep the change,” as he reaches for his brown paper bag of goodies.

“Can I-” your voice draws his eyes, and he wonders what you might ask him. This is not part of your normal interactions, and he holds his breath waiting to see what might come of it. “Never mind, it’s probably a stupid question.”

“Good thing I like stupid questions,” he assures you, giving you the space to continue.

“I was just-” you take a deep breath. “I’ve looked into certain hybrids like yourself enjoying honey, and Winnie The Pooh always told me that bears like honey, but you can’t always rely on cartoons, can you?” Johnny chuckles at the idea. “As a regular, I was thinking maybe I could ask you about your personal experience with our products?”

“That’s a good question,” Johnny says, thinking about it for a moment. “You know my affinity for the blackberry honey - I’ve always had a sweet tooth - but in truth, all the honey sticks are for my niece. She’s the real addict in the family.”

“Really?” Your eyes have widened, and Johnny thinks it’s possible you’ve never been prettier than this moment. “I always- I mean, in the months you’ve been coming in, I just always assumed the honey sticks were for you-”

“Easy mistake,” he smiles.

“You’ve never come in with your niece,” you point out.

Johnny nods, looking around the perfect store. “Yeah. There’s a lot of expensive stuff in here, the pottery, the displays- I didn’t want to bring her in and be a bother so usually I pick stuff up before going to grab her from her school. It’s my day to babysit,” he explains, “and it’s nice to start it off with a little goodie bag.”

He goes to reach for the brown paper bag in question, but you’re quick to pull it away from him. “A goodie bag?” you repeat. “If I'd known this was a goodie bag, I would have put some tissue paper in here-” you’re already reaching under the till, taking out some cream coloured paper with golden spots and bees on it.

“It’s okay-”

“No,” you insist, “your niece is going to love this, trust me.” You press the fun tissue paper into the bag, and the soft crinkling sound makes Johnny smile. “Maybe a bow too?”

“She really doesn’t need a bow-”

“Most little girls like bows, Uncle Big Bear,” you tell him, reaching for the yellow ribbons next to the register. But then your hands freeze. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just called you Uncle Big Bear-”

“That’s okay,” he assures you.

“It’s not,” you shake your head, averting your gaze, and Johnny corrects himself from earlier. He’d thought seeing you shocked made you cute, but seeing you flustered makes you even cuter. “That was really unprofessional-”

“Trust me, It’s okay,” he tells you again. “Look, if you really feel bad about it, you can call me Johnny. You can say ‘most little girls like bows, Johnny’ and that will be fine by me. How’s that sound?”

He loves the way your careful hands wrap a pretty bow around one of the bag handles even as you look up at him with shy eyes. “Most little girls like bows, Johnny,” you say, voice quiet.

“Then I’m thankful you’ve given me tissue paper and a bow,” he grins. “Thanks for all of this,” he picks up the finished bag of goodies.

“You’re welcome,” you nod, biting on your lip. “And Johnny?”

He loves the way his name sounds coming from you. “Yeah?”

“Please bring your niece in. We’re a hybrid and child-friendly store. I’m sure she’d love it here.”

Johnny takes a moment before nodding. “Okay,” he concedes, giving you one last once over before heading to the door.

When he picks up his niece from school, she’s ecstatic to receive a new and improved goodie bag, giggling over the cream and gold, bee and polka dot tissue paper. She immediately tears into one of the honey sticks.

While you’re often on Johnny’s mind after his Queen B visits, today, he can’t get you out of his brain.

You’re halfway through completing a transaction with an older customer when your favourite regular walks into your store. The sight of him makes you do a double take, because today, he’s not alone.

He’s brought his niece in, just like you’d asked him to.

At about waist-high next to the gentle giant bear hybrid, the little girl looks absolutely adorable. She’s in a yellow and white polka dot dress, with two sparkly scrunchies keeping her dark hair up in pigtails just behind her large fluffy ears. Her hand is clasped in Johnny’s, and her eyes are full of wonder as she steps into the space.

“Thank you for shopping with us,” you say to the lady you’re helping, quickly finishing up so your attention can return to Johnny.

His niece is tugging on his hand now, attempting to run up to the display case that’s stocked with all your new honey stick flavours.

“These ones!” the little girl insists. “These are the ones you got me last week!”

“I know, Winnie, I know,” Johnny smiles, joining the little cub in front of the table of treats. “Your favourite was the peach one, right?”

“Uh huh!” The little girl, Winnie, nods enthusiastically. “But I also liked raspberry, and strawberry, and apple, and cherry-”

“Slow down there, cub,” Johnny laughs, bending down to lift his niece up so she can see the display better. “We’ve got all the time in the world to make your choices, right?”

“Right,” Winnie confirms, nodding solemnly as she gazes down at all the honey sticks.

“I think we’ll be needing a basket,” Johnny notes. “Can we go grab a basket?”

“Yeah!” Her enthusiasm makes you smile, and you reach under your till to grab something to carry their honey in, approaching the two with a heart that’s currently melting in your chest.

“Welcome to Queen B’s,” you say, drawing both of the bear hybrid’s eyes. “I heard a basket might be in order?”

You hold it out for Johnny, and he gives you a grateful smile while accepting it. “Yeah, thank you,” he adjusts his niece on his hip. “Winnie, this is y/n, she showed me all these new honey sticks last week and wrapped your goodie bag up in a bow.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” The little girl grins, flashing a toothy smile that shows her sharp canines are just starting to grow in.

“She loved the bow,” Johnny tells you. “Didn’t you, Winnie?”

“I loved it, see!” She thrusts out her hand, and you find the yellow ribbon wrapped around wrist.

“That’s very pretty, Winnie,” you smile, also noting her cute yellow nails. She’s a girl who has an obvious favourite colour, and it’s cute in comparison to the neutral blacks and browns Johnny often wears.

“Is it okay if she chooses her own honey sticks?” Johnny asks, holding his niece closer to the display stand.

“Of course!” You’re a little shocked by how polite Johnny is. Even after telling him you’re a kid-friendly store, he still double checks to make sure he’s not crossing any lines.

“Did you hear that, Winnie?” Johnny looks down at the cub in his arms. “You can choose which ones you want, but I promised your mom to only get twenty today. Do you think you can count to twenty for me while you grab your treats?”

“Of course I can!” Winnie insists, reaching out her little hand to circle a bunch of the peach flavored honey sticks. When she pulls the treats back to her chest, she begins counting, and Johnny joins in. The first five are easy, but she begins to falter a little at six and seven.

Johnny is as patient as ever, helping her through to ten before he stops her. “Is ten enough, cub? That’s half of twenty, you know.”

“Ten is enough,” Winnie sighs, dropping her chosen sticks into the basket before reaching to return those she won’t keep.

“What else?” Johnny asks, beginning to bob his niece up and down on his hip as she surveys the options.

“Two raspberry,” she concludes, and Johnny holds her closer to the tin of raspberry sticks. She plucks two out.

“What’s ten plus two?” Johnny questions.

“Uh…” Winnie looks up at her uncle and you watch him mouth the word twelve, which Winnie announces a moment later.

“Good job,” Johnny praises her. “Ten plus two is twelve. Okay, what’s next?”

“Two cherry.”

“What’s twelve plus two?”

“Uh…” again, Johnny mouths the answer, and Winnie declares “fourteen!” which earns her a few coos of admiration and another ‘good job’ that has you practically melting.

You suppose standing and watching the two is somewhat intrusive, so with a nod to Johnny, you step back, busying yourself on a nearby display case that needs some fixing.

You listen to the bear hybrids count all the way to twenty, and you hear Johnny congratulate Winnie again for counting so high.

You’d always gotten the vibe that Johnny is a softy, but seeing him in action is something else, and you find it harder and harder to stop the smile from appearing on your face at all his sweet actions.

Instead of approaching the till, Johnny asks Winnie if she wants to see some of the pottery on the walls, and the cub lets out an excited “Yes!”

“But remember,” Johnny says, voice turning serious as he puts his basket down and adjusts the girl in his arms, hands going onto her waist so he can lift her high enough to see the tall shelves, “keep your paws to yourself.”

“I promise,” Winnie giggles. “Uncle John! Look! This one’s a beehive!”

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Johnny nods.

“Very pretty,” Winnie confirms.

“Maybe I should get your mom one of these for her birthday,” Johnny says. “Do you think she’d like a honey jar?”

Winnie nods enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Which one, cub? This one? Or…” he moves over a few feet, showing her another ceramic honey pot, “how about this?”

“They’re all so pretty,” Winnie admits.

“Well, how about you think about it, and when we come back next week, you can help me choose one. How’s that sound?”

He truly is a gentle giant, and you find yourself grabbing a few extra honey sticks from a display near the till in preparation for Johnny’s approach.

“Okay, cub,” he says as he carries his niece over, “I’m gonna have to set you down now so I can pay.”

“Okay,” Winnie nods, allowing herself to be placed back on the ground. She tucks in close to Johnny’s leg, looking around the store while Johnny sets the basket next to your till.

“How’s your day going?” Johnny asks, flashing you a smile as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

“It’s going great,” you admit. “I was wondering if you’d actually come in today.”

“I told you last time, Monday’s the day I babysit.”

“And I told you to bring in your niece,” your eyes dip to the small bear hybrid still clinging to his leg, “I’m very glad you did.”

“Me too,” Johnny smiles. “How much do I owe you?”

You give him the price of his twenty honey sticks, moving them from the basket to a pretty goodie bag you’d prepared. Johnny hands you two bills, and as always, tells you to keep the change.

“Wait,” he says when he watches you put five extra honey sticks into the bag, “I didn’t buy those-”

“They’re on the house,” you assure him. “I understand that your sister made a twenty honey stick cap, but I figured, maybe Winnie will share some with you, so… here are extra ones. They’re a different brand, Overgrove Apiary, and they’re all blackberry, which I know is your favourite.”

“Wow,” Johnny accepts the goodie bag, immediately handing it off to Winnie, who reaches in to tear a honey stick out. “Thank you, I uh… I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” you assure him. “And by the way, the ice cream parlour next door has a new flavour out. It’s honeycomb.”

“Honeycomb!?” Winnie is midway through tearing open the stick in her hands, and she looks up at you with wide eyes.

“You’re trying to get me in trouble with her mother, aren’t you?” Johnny laughs.

“I’d never even think of doing such a thing,” you grin.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” Johnny looks you up and down, and you feel your skin heating under his gaze. “Have a good day, y/n.”

“You too, Johnny.”

You’ve been looking forward to Monday all weekend, and when Johnny walks in at 3:30 with Winnie on his shoulders, all the tension from your long day leaves your body.

“Hi, you two,” you greet them, coming from around the till to give them your full attention.

“Hi, y/n!” Winnie exclaims, waving enthusiastically at you.

“How’s your day going, cub?” you ask, looking up at the little girl clinging to Johnny’s head.

“It’s okay,” Winnie sighs.

“That doesn’t sound okay,” you note, reading her body language.

Your gaze dips to Johnny and he gives you a look. “Some kids were being mean to her in school today,” he confesses.

“What?” you look to Winnie again. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“It wasn’t,” she confirms with another loud sigh. “They were making fun of my ears.”

“But you have such wonderful ears,” you compliment her, frowning at the fact that the world is still full of people who are very much anti-hybrid.

“That’s what I told her,” Johnny nods.

“Uncle John wanted to know their names so he could go and gobble them up,” Winnie tells you, flashing a mischievous smile. “But I told him I could handle it. They might not like my ears, but they don’t know how to dress good either, so-” the cub shrugs, “how am I supposed to listen to girls who don’t know how to dress good?”

You find yourself laughing at her sass, nodding along. “That’s a very good point, Winnie. I have to admit, I liked your dress the first time you entered the shop, and I see you’re in an even prettier one today.”

“This one?!” Winnie looks down at the cream coloured poofy dress adorning her form. “Uncle John got it for me for my birthday.”

“Well, he also has an eye for fashion, doesn’t he?” You smile at Johnny, and he grins back at you.

“He does,” Winnie agrees. “Even though mommy says he should wear dress pants with a button up, I like his t-shirts.”

“I do too,” you nod. You’ve always liked Johnny’s style, the way he can wear a nice pair of dress pants with a casual shirt and sneakers.

“You guys are too nice to me,” Johnny insists, and you can see the hint of a blush in his pretty complexion.

“No such thing as too nice,” Winnie insists, “you taught me that, Uncle John.”

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” he sighs. “Anyways, you remember our mission today, right cub?”

“A honeypot for mommy,” the little girl on his shoulders nods.

“That’s right,” Johnny begins to move towards the shelves holding ceramics, and you shadow the pair.

“Is there anything that stood out to you the last time you were here, princess Winnie?” you ask.

The little girl kicks her feet with joy at the new title you’ve given her, and she nods. “The beehive.”

“The beehive,” Johnny repeats with a sigh, and his gaze shifts to you. “Our little Winnie is nothing if not predictable.”

You enjoy the sentiment, the use of the word ‘our’ as if you’re already a part of their little family. You certainly feel connected to the two bear hybrids, although you’ve only really been getting to know Johnny for a short time.

You hope you can get to know them better.

“Is this the beehive honey pot you want?” you ask, pointing at a lovely handmade ceramic on the top shelf.

“Uh huh, that’s the one,” Winnie nods, playing with Johnny’s ears as she holds onto his head. “Mommy’s going to love it.”

“I’m sure she will,” you agree. “Let me just get the step ladder so I can reach it-”

“No need,” Johnny assures you, stepping forward and reaching up to grab the honey pot. You marvel at how tall he is- “Here,” he holds it out for you, “would you mind taking that to the till while we grab our twenty honey sticks?”

“I don’t mind at all,” you smile, accepting the ceramic and holding it close to your chest.

Johnny helps Winnie off of his shoulders and the two head to the display case that holds your store’s best goodies. You walk over to the till, scanning the price tag of the honey pot and getting it prepared.

You wrap it in bubble wrap before placing it in a nice gift bag and adding tissue paper to obscure the pot. This is a present after all, and you take your time making it look nice.

You’re just finishing your task when Winnie and Johnny approach holding twenty honey sticks, and they wait patiently while you scan them too.

“Hey Winnie,” Johnny looks down at his niece, “How about you go take a look at that display case over there,” he suggests, “I’m sure there’s some stuff in it you haven’t seen before.”

Winnie looks confused for a moment, but then she shrugs, skipping off to look at the array of jarred honey in a display case a few meters away.

You cock a brow at Johnny while he pulls out his wallet.

“Listen,” he says, voice low as he pulls out cash, “I know this might be overstepping, and I’m sorry if that’s the case but… I’d really like to take you out some time.”

“Take me out?”

“On a date,” Johnny clarifies. “Again, shoot me down and there will be no hard feelings-”

“I’d love to,” you tell him.

“Really?” He breaks into a smile, and it makes your heart flutter with excitement.

“Really,” you confirm, reaching for a Queen B’s Honey business card. “Let me give you my number,” you say, grabbing a pen to write your digits on the back of the piece of paper.

When you hand it to Johnny, your fingers brush, and the contact makes your whole body light up with energy. You can tell from the way Johnny looks down at your number, skin flaring a slight pinkish colour, that he has no clue of the effect he has on you. “Thanks,” he mutters, voice cracking. “I’ll uh, give you a call later.”

“Wow, a call, not just a text,” you smile as you take Johnny’s cash, putting it into the register and counting out change.

“Let’s just say I’m old fashioned,” the bear grins sheepishly at you.

“I like it,” you confess. “It’s part of your charm.”

“I have charm?”

“Tons,” you nod.

“Good to know.” He licks his lips, looking down at you with those chocolate brown eyes that have always made you feel like melting into a puddle on the floor.

Winnie returns to grab her bag of honey sticks, and Johnny gently picks up the present for his sister. “Say goodbye to y/n, Winnie.”

“Goodbye, y/n. See you next week!”

“You better,” you grin. “I’ll be eager to find out how your mom likes her new honeypot.”

“She’ll love it,” Winnie says with the confidence that only a toddler truly possesses.

You adore her already.

“I’ll call you,” Johnny says again, giving you one last smile as you say goodbye and he turns to leave your store.

You watch him go, holding Winnie’s hand while the little girl skips along.

You kind of feel like skipping too.

Old fashioned Johnny is sweeter than the honey your store makes, and he calls you on Monday evening to see if you want to go to a fair on Thursday night. “You’re not scared of heights right? I can take you on the ferris wheel? They do fireworks at nine thirty for the kids but uh, I thought you might like watching them.”

He’s a gentleman, and you agree to all his ideas.

Waiting until Thursday is something like torture, but you somehow make it to the end of your shift and go home to get dolled up for Johnny. It will be the first time he sees you not in a work outfit, and you want to impress him.

You’d noted how proud he looked of Winnie’s dress when she’d mentioned he’d bought it for her, and you think Johnny might have a thing for cutesy looks, so you find your sweetest dress. It’s still modest, and when you look in the mirror, you realize you sort of look like one of those cute elementary school teachers you’ve seen in movies.

Finishing the outfit off with red lipstick, you think it’s a happy medium, after all, you will be at a fair with lots of children running around.

Johnny picks you up from your house, pulling up next to the curb in an old black muscle car convertible that takes your breath away as you approach.

“Wow,” you whisper, looking between him and the vehicle he’s leaning against.

“I should be saying that to you,” Johnny grins, straightening and holding out his hands. “You look amazing. Can you do a little spin for me?”

You allow him to grab your hand, and he helps you do a twirl that makes your dress dance.

“Perfect,” he tells you. “I’ve always liked your work outfit, but this dress is something else.”

“Really?” you beam up at him, allowing the bear hybrid to pull you to his chest.

“Would I lie to you?” he asks.

You stare into his eyes, and after a moment’s consideration, you shake your head. “No, you wouldn’t.”

You almost think Johnny’s about to kiss you, but then he swallows thickly and turns his head away, looking at the road. “Should we get going?”

“Yes, please.”

He drives a little wilder than the calm persona he exudes when he’s in your shop, and you find yourself giggling as he races down streets. It feels exhilarating to be in a convertible, the warm summer air rushing past.

Johnny grins at you when you laugh, pushing the car even harder to bring you more joy.

You’re already completely dazzled by the bear hybrid by the time you get to the fair, and the night just keeps getting better and better.

He holds your hand as you walk through the crowd, and he even wins you a massive teddy bear at one of the fair games. His baseball skills are no joke, and he easily knocks down all the bottles, triumphantly holding the teddy out to you as his prize.

“For me?” you ask in shock, accepting the toy.

“Of course, everyone needs a Big Bear in their life,” he tells you, and the glint in his smile makes you think you’ve already found yours.

The two of you go on a few rides, with you clinging to Johnny’s side during rough twists and turns. He keeps you and the teddy bear safe, laughing while you scream in delight. It feels like being a kid again. It’s something you’ve never really experienced, being at a fair on a date with a cute guy who seems to want to give you the world.

It’s nine twenty before you even know it, and Johnny leads you to the ferris wheel.

“We should get to the top by the time the fireworks start,” he tells you before pulling out his wallet and stepping close to the teenage boy working the ride. “I’ll pay you twenty bucks to give us an extra five minutes at the top.”

“I can do that,” the teenager nods, quickly pocketing the bill before helping you both onto the ferris wheel. “Here, I’ll take care of the bear for you,” he says, as there’s no way you both will fit on the ride with the massive stuffed animal. The seats are for two adults, and Johnny pulls out another five to give to the attendant before sitting next to you.

The bar is secured in place, locking you in next to the bear hybrid who smoothly puts his arm behind you, laying it across the back of the seats. “It’s a nice night,” he tells you.

“A perfect night,” you agree. “I’m so happy you asked me to do this with you.”

“I’m happy you came,” he smiles. “I wasn’t sure if asking you out while you were at work was a good idea, but, I guess after seeing you interact with Winnie, I just couldn’t pass up on the opportunity.”

“Your niece is wonderful,” you breathe.

“She’s a good cub,” Johnny nods.

“Seeing as we’re going to be on this ride for a while, do you mind if I ask you some questions about yourself? We’ve spent the whole night doing things, and I don’t actually know that much about you.”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Let's start with what you do for work?”

Johnny laughs. “Any guesses?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re not a nine to five kind of guy-”

“I’m not,” he confirms.

“You dress so well, part of me wants to say you’re involved in fashion or something.”

“Good idea,” Johnny grins, “but unfortunately no, I’m not involved with any fashion work. I think my job is a hard one to guess, so I’ll just tell you. I run a club with a few close friends.”

“You run a club?” you blink at him.

“Don’t look so shocked, Bee,” Johnny smiles, and your heart does flip flops at the new pet name. “It’s a hybrid bar in midtown.”

“A hybrid bar,” you repeat.

“Humans are allowed in the front section, but we have a back that’s exclusive for hybrids. It’s a safe space for us, and I’m there a lot, especially during the weekends, keeping an eye on things,” he explains.

“Tell me about the friends you work with?”

“First, there’s Hyuck. He’s a pretty peculiar guy. Then there’s Renjun, and Yuta, he’s a wolf hybrid. But at this point, I’m friends with a lot of the workers too. We have this raven manager, Doyoung, and I love watching him run around like a stressed chicken with his head cut off-” Johnny smiles to himself. “You’ll have to come by sometime and meet them.”

“That would be nice,” you nod. “I mean, you’ve seen me at work so often, it would be interesting to see you in your own element.”

“Honestly, I’m not so sure the club is my element. It’s a good way to make money, and I don’t have to do much- it’s one of the perks of being a part owner. But if I had to choose between your store and the club, I think I’d rather be at the honey shop.”

“So you can watch me run around like a stressed chicken with my head cut off?” you tease.

“You always seem so put together,” Johnny tells you.

“That’s because you often show up when no one else is in the store. You should see what it’s like during a Saturday rush.”

The bear hybrid laughs. “Maybe I’ll have to pop by, then.”

You’re only halfway up the ferris wheel, and you’re a little surprised when a sudden loud pop marks the beginning of the fireworks. You tear your gaze from Johnny, focusing on the blue and green explosion that’s lighting up the dark sky.

“Wow, this view is amazing!” you exclaim.

“It is,” Johnny agrees, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that the charming man hasn’t stopped staring at you just yet. “I knew you’d like it here.”

He adjusts his arm behind you, finally resting his hand casually over your shoulder, and you immediately tuck yourself closer to the bear hybrid. His large body is so warm and comforting, and you enjoy the peaceful quiet that settles over you both as you watch the fireworks.

The ride moves, bringing you closer to the prime spot at the top of the ferris wheel. You can feel yourself getting giddier- you’ve never been on a date like this. Never experienced something this perfect.

“You’re cute,” Johnny says.

“I am?” You look at the bear hybrid next to you.

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “The way your eyes light up when you’re watching the fireworks- I’ve never seen anything prettier.”

“Stop, you’re such a charmer,” you blush, hiding your face against the crook of his neck.

“Just being honest,” he tells you, stroking your shoulder.

The ride begins to move again, and you pull away from Johnny to marvel at the view again.

From the top of the ferris wheel, you can see everything. The whole fairground is laid out below you, twinkling and brilliant. The fireworks are dazzling, filling the sky with colourful explosions.

You turn to Johnny and something comes over you. You want to say thank you, but the words themselves won’t suffice, so instead, you lean close, pressing your lips to his cheek. Johnny practically freezes, and when you pull away, you see a red lipstick stain on his skin.

Johnny turns his head to look at you, gaze darting down to your mouth-

Again, you’re hit with a surge of confidence, and this time, when you lean in, it’s not his cheek you’re aiming for.

Johnny’s lips are soft, gentle against your own, and then his hand comes up to cup your face. You don’t want to pull away. You can tell he doesn’t want you to either. His mouth parts, tongue gently teasing your bottom lip, and you let him deepen the kiss.

Your body is tingling with energy as you lean closer to him, grabbing at the front of his shirt. When your own tongue darts out to taste him, the bear hybrid lets out a groan, and you mirror it with a pleasured sound of your own.

A loud bang makes you jump a little in his embrace, and Johnny smiles against your lips, releasing your face so you can turn to admire the large firework that’s just been set off.

“John,” you breathe, “this is perfect.”

“It’s how I wanted our first kiss to be,” he muses. “As much as I wanted to kiss you when I picked you up, I knew waiting would have its rewards.”

So he wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him, and the thought has your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

You can’t help but press your lips to his again, smiling into the kiss while Johnny tugs you closer. His free hand slips down to your thigh, and you moan at how good it feels.

It’s shocking how just kissing Johnny is already doing so much to your body- as if some primal instinct is taking over.

You’re not sure how long you remain lip locked, but when the ride jolts into motion again, you break the kiss, laughing a little as you bury your face against his neck.

The bear hybrid holds you tighter, and you remain in his embrace for the rest of the ride.

When you reach the ground again, Johnny holds out a hand and helps you out of your seat. The teenage ride attendant gives Johnny the bear stuffie, and he carries it for you as you walk through the fairgrounds towards his car.

You’re amazed with how comfortable you are with Johnny, and the ride home is filled with as many speed fueled giggles as your drive to the fairground had been.

When you reach your house, Johnny even walks you to the door.

You kiss him again, loving the way that his size dwarfs your own. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, not wanting to let go. But all good nights must come to an end, and after a long makeout session, you finally pull away to catch your breath.

“When can I see you again?” Johnny asks.

“Monday?” you suggest.

“With Winnie?” The bear hybrid laughs. “Are you sure you’re not using me to get to my niece?”

You grin, enjoying his playful banter. “I was just thinking that you said you work most evenings on the weekend, and I work during the day, so our schedules are conflicting.”

“Right, yeah,” Johnny nods. “What are you doing Tuesday, after work?”

“You tell me.”

“Movies,” Johnny states. “I want to take you to the movies.”

“Is there anything good showing?”

“Probably,” he shrugs. “I figure anything will be good if you’re there with me.”

He’s such a sweet talker, and you give him a kiss, thanking him for the lovely evening. “I’ll see you Monday, John.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Why are you rushing, Uncle John?” Winnie asks as Johnny speeds down the street after picking her up from school.

“No reason,” he says, although it's partially a lie.

He’s excited to see you, even if it’s just for a short interaction while Winnie gets her honey fix. However, his niece is right, Johnny is going a little too fast, and it’s almost torture for him to slow down.

He all but hops out of the car when he parks in front of your shop, opening the back door for Winnie to exit the vehicle as well. They enter Queen B’s Honey with enthusiasm, although the cause of that enthusiasm is very different.

Winnie goes straight for the honey stick display, but Johnny’s much more focused on you. You’re restocking a few honey jars on a top shelf, wobbling a little on your stepping stool, and the bear hybrid is quick to rush to your aid.

“Hey there,” he breathes, steadying a hand on your waist. “Carefull, Bee.”

“Oh, hi, John,” you grin down at him.

“Hi, yourself,” he smiles, watching you put the last jar in its place.

You turn, resting your hands on his shoulders as you step down to the floor, and Johnny loves the way you’re so much shorter than he is. He could just eat you up-

“Hi, Winnie!” You wave at his niece over his shoulder.

“Hi!” she calls back, and when Johnny turns, he sees his little cub is already reaching to grab a few peach honey sticks from their jar. She’s occupied, and it gives Johnny the chance to talk to you one on one a little, something he’s very grateful for.

“How was your weekend?” he asks.

“Busy,” you laugh. “You?”

“Busy,” he grins. “Was thinking about you a lot.”

“You were, were you?” There’s a twinkle in your eye, and it all but bewitches the bear hybrid who still has a hand on your hip. “Did I really leave that good of an impression?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he confesses. “Were you thinking about me too?”

“More than I care to say,” you nod.

“Are we still on for that movie tomorrow?”

“Of course, unless you’ve changed your mind-”

“Never.”

“Uncle John!” Winnie’s voice snaps Johnny out of his daze, and he tears his gaze from your lips to look at his niece.

“Yeah, cub?”

“I can’t reach the cherry honey!”

“Oh no,” Johnny says in an animated fashion, letting go of your waist to go help Winnie. “We can’t have that, can we?” He lifts his niece up, helping her grab a handful of honey sticks. “Woah there cub, how many of these have you got already?”

“Just a few,” she insists, adding her new goodies to a hand already holding a large number of peach sticks.

“Just a few,” Johnny chuckles. It’s obvious that Winnie has forgotten her candy cap. “Can you count to twenty for me?”

“Just twenty?” Winnie whines.

“You know we’ll both get in trouble with your mom if you have any more than that.”

Winnie sighs with exasperation, putting a few of the cherry sticks back in their jar.

“There we go,” Johnny grins. “Just peach and cherry today?”

“They’re my favourites,” Winnie insists.

It’s a shame that his little cub doesn’t take longer choosing honey, as it means there’s less time with you, but Johnny also supposes that he shouldn’t be monopolizing on goodie time. He’ll get to see you tomorrow, even though it pains him to head to the till and say goodbye to you so soon.

“Have a wonderful day, you two,” you grin.

“We will,” Johnny promises. His day is already fantastic now that he’s seen you, and he’ll carry the memory of helping you off that stool for many hours to come. “Don’t work too hard.”

“No promises,” you wink.

God, you’re perfect.

“Don’t be mad,” Johnny says, which is not a great start to a call thirty minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up for your date, “but when Winnie heard I was going to the theater with you, she insisted on coming because there’s this new Disney movie that’s showing, and her mom jumped at the idea to have her own date night-”

You listen to the bear hybrid ramble with a smile on your face, and when he finishes, he asks you if you’re okay with Winnie tagging along. “I’d love for her to join us,” you tell him. “You know I adore Winnie.”

Johnny lets out a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Have I ever told you how perfect you are?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, you are. Very perfect. Thanks for understanding.”

Half an hour later Johnny’s at your door, but he’s not in the convertible muscle car. Instead, an SUV is waiting on the curb, and you see Winnie waving at you frantically through the window.

“You look amazing,” Johnny breathes, taking in your dress with a smile.

“You clean up well too, John,” you smile, enjoying the brown checkered pants and white shirt he’s wearing.

“I’m sorry about this-”

“Don’t be,” you assure him. “As I said on the phone, I’m happy for the little cub to join.”

“Yeah,” Johnny sighs. “This was supposed to be a date-”

“It can still be a date,” you tell him, and you truly mean it.

It’s obvious to you that Winnie is a big part of Johnny’s life, and if you’re going to be part of his world too, it only makes sense for you to embrace his family.

When you get into the car, Winnie is quick to say hello, and she’s practically bouncing in her seat in the back of the vehicle. “It is you!” she exclaims. “Uncle John told me you’d be coming, but I didn’t really believe him!”

“No?” you smile. “Why’s that, cub?”

“Because you’re a princess, and he’s just Uncle John!”

“Ouch,” Johnny laughs, slipping behind the wheel. “That hurts, Win.” He turns the key in the ignition, casting a glance at you. “Do we all have our seatbelts on?”

“Yes, John,” you smile, and your sentiment is echoed by Winnie in the back, “of course, Uuncle John!”

“Why?” he presses, looking over his shoulder at the child in the back seat.

“Because safety is the most important thing!” she all but yells, and you think this must be something of a ritual for the two of them. It’s sweet, and it makes you fall even harder for the bear hybrid.

“Can we turn on my music?” Winnie asks next.

“Of course, cub,” Johnny nods, reaching for the center console, fingers pausing over the play button. “That is, if Miss Bee doesn’t mind the Lion King soundtrack.”

“Not at all,” you assure him.

Music fills the car a moment later, as does Winnie’s high pitched singing voice. When it reaches the chorus of the song, even Johnny joins in, and you wonder how many times he’s listened to this sound track with his niece.

It’s a soft experience, and one you savor every second of as Johnny drives you to the theater.

Winnie insists on walking between you and Johnny when she exits the car, holding both of your hands and doing little jumps that force you and her uncle to lift her off the ground while she giggles.

Once inside, you wait in the concession line and Winnie tells you all about the movie you’re going to see. She’s a massive Disney fan, and you enjoy listening to her talk. You catch Johnny staring at you a few times, and he always flashes you a smile when you meet his eyes.

Johnny gets a large popcorn with extra butter, and when he hands it to Winnie, she notes, “This is as big as me!”

In the theater, Johnny’s adorable niece once again insists on sitting in the middle, and Johnny lets out a small sigh but doesn’t argue with his niece. When you take your seats, however, his arm immediately goes along the back of the chairs, and his fingers find the back of your neck, gently stroking your skin.

He smiles at you when you turn to look at him, giving you a small wink before he entertains Winnie with a discussion on what colour his tail would be if he was a mermaid. Winnie decides hers would be yellow, and when Johnny says his would be green, she insists his would be brown because he’s a brown bear hybrid.

“Does that make you a yellow bear?” Johnny questions teasingly.

“A honey bear,” Winnie corrects. “And Miss Bee would be pink.”

“Really?” Johnny’s brows raise. “And why’s that, cub?”

“Because she has a pretty pink soul,” the child smiles, looking up at you. “And also, your dress is pink, and I like it.”

“Thank you, Winnie, I like your dress too.”

Winnie kicks her feet happily and Johnny rubs his thumb along the back of your neck in small, warm circles.

The lights dim, the movie starts, and you find that you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself. It’s nice to have Johnny’s gentle touch, a constant reminder that - although you’re here with his niece - he’s still doing his best to be attentive to you.

The film flies by, and before you know it, the three of you are exiting the theater. Winnie is dragging her feet, obviously exhausted from a long day at school and an evening movie, so Johnny picks her up, holding her tight to his chest while she wraps her legs around his waist and all but passes out on his shoulder.

At the car, you help Johnny put Winnie into the back seat, and when he closes the door, he turns to you. “Thank you for all of this.”

“Stop thanking me,” you smile. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Me too.” His hands find your waist, and he tugs you closer- only for his phone to ring.

“Shit,” Johnny cusses, the first swear word you’ve heard from him. “One sec, it’s my sister.”

He answers the call, assuring Winnie’s mom that the movie went well and they’ll be home soon. When he hangs up, Johnny tugs you to his chest again, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

He seems reluctant to let you go, but he opens your car door for you all the same, shutting it gently behind you once you’re tucked inside.

The drive home is quiet, as Winnie has fully passed out in the back seat. Johnny’s hand is on your thigh, and you place your own on top of his, playing with his fingers.

When you reach your house, Johnny exits the car to walk you to your door, where he kisses you, cupping your face and taking your breath away.

“I want to see you again,” he says, still holding you close.

“I’d love that.”

“How about Thursday? The club usually isn’t that busy on Thursdays. You could come meet a few of my friends.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I think I’d like that.”

“Perfect,” Johnny leans in to kiss you again, and as much as you’d love to melt against him, you’re very aware that Winnie’s mom is waiting for her back home.

“Drive safe, please,” you say when you finally pull away.

“I always do.”

You laugh. “That’s debatable.”

“You just don’t trust my driving skills yet,” Johnny insists.

Before you can stop him, he gives you one final kiss goodbye, and when you watch him turn to walk back to his car, you find yourself wishing he didn’t have to leave.

On Thursday night, you face the dilemma of figuring out what to wear for your date with Johnny. The past two experiences had been fairly classic, with a fair adventure and a trip to the movies, both perfectly suitable locations to wear a cute dress. But tonight, you’re going to a club and you wonder how that should affect your clothing choice.

After much contemplation, and about ten different outfit try-ons, you decide to stick with your usual baby doll style. Johnny seems to like it when you dress cute for him, and you’re banking on the fact that the bear hybrid likes you for you, as opposed to the girls who frequent his club in all forms of scandalous attire.

You’re feeling a little anxious about visiting a hybrid bar, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s not that you personally have anything against hybrids, you’re just used to only being around one or two at a time.

You suppose maybe this is how Johnny feels, being a hybrid in a human dominant world, and the thought makes you a little sad. He always gives off such an air of ease and calmness, as if he doesn’t have a bother in the world. You wonder what adversities he’s had to overcome to get to that mentality, or if he was simply born that way.

Before you know it, Johnny’s picking you up. The convertible muscle car is back, and you take a moment to appreciate him leaning against it on the curb.

He’s dressed up tonight, more so than usual. His dress pants are paired with a button up, and its black silky material is soft to the touch when he pulls you to his chest for a kiss. “You look perfect,” he tells you, pinching at your chin and looking you up and down. “My perfect little honey bee doll.”

“I’m happy you like my dress,” you grin, swaying your hips so the skirt picks up.

Johnny grabs your hand, giving you the space to help you twirl while he lets out a whistle of appreciation. “I always like your dresses,” he admits. “I like your jeans and white t-shirt work outfits, but, I mean…when you walked out on our first date in a dress, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Good, I can’t take my eyes off of you either.”

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into one last kiss before he opens the car door for you and helps you inside.

The ride is a peaceful one. He asks about your day, tells you about his own, and before you know it, you’re pulling up in front of his club. “You ready to meet my friends, gorgeous?” he asks, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze of reassurance.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before exiting the car.

When you enter the club, with Johnny’s hand securely on the small of your back, it feels like any other bar you’ve been to. The staff are mostly hybrids, but you notice a few humans dressed in black too.

“It’s nice in here,” you tell him, beaming up at the man who makes you so eager to please.

“If you like this, wait till you see the back room,” Johnny grins, leading you past the bar.

“Oh,” you swallow thickly. “Didn’t you mention that the back is hybrid exclusive? Are you sure we should be going back there?”

“You have a good memory,” the bear nods. “It’s hybrid exclusive, but I'm a part owner, so I figure I can do what I want. Besides, this front section doesn’t have a VIP seating area, and my friends prefer to be in places where people can’t overhear us.”

“Are you planning on giving me some trade secrets, John?” You cock a brow and the bear hybrid laughs.

“Something like that.”

You reach the back door, where a bunny hybrid looks you up and down, his large, floppy ears twitching before his gaze shifts to Johnny. “Yuta said you’d be coming in tonight.”

You notice a puppy hybrid of sorts standing a few feet to the side, and his beautiful face is unreadable, his eyes fixed on you.

“Of course he did,” Johnny smiles at the bunny. “There’s not much Yuta can keep from you, is there, Markie?”

The bunny hybrid’s cheeks flare a cute shade of pink and he lets out a cough. “He’s uh… he’s waiting for you in VIP. Hyuck’s there too.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Johnny says, applying a small amount of pressure onto your lower back which prompts you to step past Mark and through the open doorway.

Johnny was right about the hybrid exclusive section being nicer than the front, and you hurry to take it all in with your eyes. As you scan the space, it’s hard not to notice a few looks you get from people within the room.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’re with Johnny, or because you’re a human, but when your eyes catch the gaze of a man behind the bar with large, black raven wings, you get the feeling that it might be the latter.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” you ask, tucking closer to Johnny’s side.

“Definitely,” Johnny nods, leading you toward a set of stairs that leads to the VIP section. “Especially up here.” He takes your hand as you ascend, and you see a booth with two men sitting in it.

One has white hair to match his ashy wolf ears, and you think this must be the Yuta that Johnny has mentioned to you. The other man has his back to you, and you don’t see any obvious hybrid markings.

Johnny hadn’t mentioned much about this ‘Hyuck’ friend of his, other than him being peculiar, and you begin to wonder if Hyuck might be human like you. It would definitely make you feel more comfortable.

“Hey, guys,” Johnny greets his friends as you come to a stop in front of the table. “How’s it going?”

Both the men turn to look at you, and like the hybrids at the door, their gaze shifts down and then back up. The wolf is the first to stand, pulling out of the booth to shake your hand.

“I’m Yuta, and you must be the honey girl,” he flashes you a smile complete with sharp canines that glint in the light. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?”

“Johnny has been talking about you for months,” Hyuck breathes, but he doesn’t stand. “It was good to hear he finally grew some balls-”

“Hyuck,” Johnny groans, a warning in his tone. “Be nice.”

“You love bears probably want to sit next to each other,” Yuta says, slipping into the booth next to his friend and giving you the other side of the bench.

“Thanks,” Johnny nods, allowing you to sit first before he moves next to you, his arm immediately taking its place behind your shoulders. “Have you two been here long?”

Hyuck shakes his head, playing with the glass of amber liquid in front of him, but it’s Yuta who speaks. “Not long,” he assures you both, obviously the more talkative of the two. “Hyuck was here before me though, something about fucking his girlfriend in the staff bathroom-”

Hyuck grins mischievously and you wonder if this is a common occurrence for him.

“Does your girlfriend work here?” you ask, hoping to get into Hyuck’s good graces.

“Yeah,” his gaze shifts to the dance floor below. “She’s the sexy little bunny running around in that cute black dress.”

“She’s very pretty,” you smile.

“It runs in her family,” Yuta comments.

You’re confused for a moment before Johnny is leaning in close to your ear, “the bunny at the door, Mark, is her brother.”

“Oh,” you blink as you look at the men in front of you. “So you’re dating siblings?”

“I wouldn’t call what Yuta does with Mark dating-” Hyuck grins, earning an elbow in the ribs from the wolf on his side.

Johnny lets out a chuckle. “They’re both being very bad club owners, if you ask me.”

To be fair, both Yuta and Hyuck seem like the types to date their workers, but you suppose you shouldn’t hold that against them. These are Johnny’s friends, and you’re not about to start judging them now.

“So, Hyuck,” you look at the man across from you. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have any uh… any hybrid marks? Let me know if I’m being too forward, but are you human, or?”

Hyuck scoffs. “Definitely not.”

“And before you ask,” Yuta buts in, “his hybrid type is classified information.” The wolf flashes you a wink, and you suppose you should drop the topic. However, you can’t help the pang of anxiety that clutches your heart when you realize you truly are the only human in this back room.

“Johnny,” you look at the bear sitting next to you. “Are you really sure I should be here?”

“It’s fine-” Johnny goes to assure you again, but you can tell from the darkening of Hyuck’s gaze that maybe he doesn’t agree.

Before you can say anything else, Hyuck’s bunny hybrid girlfriend shows up. She smiles at Johnny, asking if he wants the usual, but when her eyes move to you, and you see her nose do a small wiggle, you realize she’s clocking you as a human.

“And what can I get your friend?” the bunny asks, and you’re thankful that she’s still being polite to you, but you can’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Actually, I think maybe I need some air,” you admit, taking a deep breath.

You suddenly feel very claustrophobic, and it might have to do with being surrounded by predatory hybrids. You don’t know what Hyuck is, exactly, but you’re sure he’s something big, because he acts like he’s got the biggest cock in the room.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks, standing up from the booth to give you the space to escape your seat.

“Yeah, I just need to go outside for a moment,” you shake your head, turning to apologize to his friends before moving past the bunny hybrid and walking back down the stairs.

You can hear Johnny following you, but you’re in something of a rush as you weave through hybrids staring you down on the dance floor. When you get to the door leading to the front section, Mark stops you with a hand on your forearm. “Are you okay?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, thank you-”

Johnny appears behind you, taking control of the situation as he tells Mark, “She just needs some air.”

The bunny hybrid lets you go, and you scurry to the front door, finally making your escape onto the street where you feel like you can finally take a breath.

Johnny stands two feet away from you, watching you with an empathetic expression. He gives you time to take a few deep inhales before reaching for your hand and pulling you to his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting-”

“You’re not,” he assures you, cupping your face and giving you a soft smile.

“I just… I feel like… everyone should have a safe space, you know? And I worry that, as a human, being in that back section was sort of like… invading the sanctity of your hybrid only zone. I’m really sorry, John, but I’m not sure if I can go back in there.”

“That’s okay,” he nods. “Maybe I was being…” he searches for the word, “presumptuous tonight. I wanted you to meet my friends, but I didn’t think too hard about how you might feel in that environment. I’m sorry I put you in this situation.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry-”

“Well we can’t both be sorry,” Johnny grins. “So maybe neither of us should be. Maybe tonight just didn’t work out, but that’s okay.”

“Really?” Relief floods your system as you look up into Johnny’s soft brown eyes.

“Really,” he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What do you say about going somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else?”

“How about my place?” he suggests. “I was planning on inviting you after this, but we could go there now if you want. No pressure though.”

You take a deep breath before you find yourself nodding. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” His thumb smooths by your cheek.

“Do you have to go back inside to say goodbye to your friends? I feel bad about making them come down here to meet me only to run away-”

“Trust me, those two would be here watching their bunnies even if we didn’t come out tonight. I’ll just send them a text and explain the situation. We can always meet them another night, at another bar.”

“And you’re sure they won’t hate me?”

“I don’t think anyone could ever hate you, Bee. You’re much too sweet for that kind of reaction.” Johnny smiles. “In fact, I bet Hyuck will be impressed.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because you care so much about the sanctity of the hybrid zone. Much more than I do.”

“You really think your friends will be alright?”

“Without a doubt.” He leans down to press another sweet kiss to your lips, but this one lingers. When he finally pulls away, you’re left wanting more, but he’s already reaching behind himself to open the door to his car for you. “Let’s go, gorgeous. My house is nicer than this place anyways.”

Johnny’s right about his house, it’s much nicer than the club. You guess you shouldn’t be shocked that he’s got a place just out of town, nestled amongst the trees of the forest. It’s a sleek place to live, and you admire the wood detailing of the upgraded cabin like exterior.

“This is a big house,” you muse, as you follow Johnny up the stone steps.

“Too big for me, I think,” he admits. “But it was one of the only places I could find with acreage in the forest, and I wanted a space that felt like home, you know? Winnie loves it here, some nights she sleeps over and we have a fire in the back with s’mores, other days I take her on some of the hiking trails- my land connects with the national forest, and we’ve got easy access to one of the better hiking paths in the park.”

Your heart melts a little. You know Johnny is a fabulous uncle, but you hadn’t realized the true extent of it.

“I love how close you are with Winnie,” you admit. “It can be rare to find a single guy who’s so doting on his younger family members.”

“Then I’m glad we found each other,” Johnny grins. “I’ve had ex’s in the past who would get mad about the time I spend with Winnie, but not you. I really did appreciate how well you took her date crashing that other night.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t a problem. I had a wonderful time.”

Johnny flashes you a grin as he lets you into his house, and you marvel at the interior being as lovely as the outside had been.

“Wow…it feels even bigger inside,” you note. “Will you give me a tour?”

“Of course,” Johnny tosses his keys down on an entryway table, grabbing your hand to begin showing you around.

The lower level has a state of the art kitchen with french doors that open to the outside deck, and Johnny tells you about the barbecues he hosts here. “We even had a family reunion out back two years ago,” he admits. “I’ve got extra rooms, so my grandparents stayed here, and a few of my aunts and uncles- it was a really good time.”

“That sounds like a wonderful reunion,” you smile, enjoying how deep his love for family truly runs.

There’s a large dining room, and a living room with glass windows giving views to the forest. In the corner there’s even a toy chest, and Johnny explains how he bought so many things for Winnie through the years that he just started keeping some at his own house for the time she’d be here with him.

You love that he’s not a man afraid to share his space with a six year old, even if the toy chest does stand out amongst the other furnishings.

The second level is where the bedrooms are, and Johnny lets you peek into Winnie’s room, where there are even more toys overflowing in baskets.

Two more guest bedrooms brings the grand total of sleeping locations to a whopping four, and you can’t help but ask the question that’s on your mind. “Do you think you’d ever want to raise a family here? You’ve got more than enough space for it.”

“Oh, definitely,” Johnny nods. “Some days, when I’m here alone, I think about how much nicer it would be to have a few of my own cubs running around…” he licks his lips, pausing to look at you. “I don’t think we’ve ever talked about whether or not you’d want to have kids.”

“But I’m sure you can guess my answer,” you smile.

Johnny nods, grinning. “I bet you’d love to be a mom, and you’d be good at it, too.”

“Thank you,” you feel heat rising in your skin. “I guess my affection for kids is hard to hide, huh?”

“It’s sweet,” he tells you, “just another one of those perfect attributes of yours.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you melt against him, enjoying the warmth of his body.

When Johnny moves away, you’re in something of a daze, and you blink up at him.

“Saved the best room for last,” he tells you, reaching down to take your hand and lead you down the hallway to the final door.

His room truly is the most impressive of them all, a master bedroom if you’ve ever seen one. With floor to ceiling windows along an entire wall, and a large space fitting a bed as well as a seating area, tv and fireplace, you think you could be very satisfied spending a lot of time here.

“Wow, John,” you let out a breath. “I can’t believe this is real, I can’t believe you actually live here-”

“So you like it?” he questions, pressing his body against your back and wrapping his arms around you, head on your shoulder. “My bear cave?”

“If this is a cave, I never want to go back to a real house,” you laugh.

“I might hold you to that,” Johnny says, voice low.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of being in his embrace. And that’s when you feel something hard beginning to press against your bum.

You swallow thickly, leaning back against him while you gain your courage. You know Johnny’s not the type to force anything on you, and something tells you that if you don’t make this first move, you might miss your chance.

Turning in his arms, you look up into Johnny’s chocolate brown eyes. Then you’re kissing him, putting all the passion that’s been brewing into the meeting of your lips. You thread your fingers through his soft hair, eager to get close to him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

You can definitely feel the outline of his cock against your abdomen now, and his hands reach down to find your hips, anchoring you to the front of his body while his tongue glides against your own.

“John,” you moan when his lips move to your neck, “I need you.”

“Yeah?” His tongue grazes your sweet spot and you shiver in his embrace, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of him.

“More than I’ve ever needed anything,” you tell him, meaning it with all of your heart.

With a groan, Johnny reaches down, grabbing your ass and prompting you to jump so you can wrap your legs around his hips. In just a few steps, he can lower you to his bed, and you expect him to follow, to press you against the mattress with his large body-

But instead, he pulls away, looking down at you with dark eyes filled with lust. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, reaching down to play with the bottom of your dress. “I’ve been dreaming about how you’ll taste on my tongue.”

Your pussy throbs at the idea, and you gaze up at him with a body alight in anticipation. “Then… then you should taste me, John.”

The bear hybrid lets out another groan, and then he’s falling to his knees on the edge of the bed, large hands grabbing at your legs to pull you closer.

His lips find your calf, and then your knee. When his face is between your thighs, his pretty ears brush your skin and make you shiver.

“Ticklish?” he grins, continuing to pepper your thighs with soft kisses.

“Very,” you confirm, reaching down to pull the skirt of your dress higher, revealing your underwear to the man between your legs.

“Shit, Bee,” Johnny says, voice shaky as he looks at your core. “You’re soaked through your panties,” at first, his words make heat rise through your body, embarrassment- but then Johnny’s taking a deep breath, and he looks up at you when he comments, “It’s so hot.”

His hands grab at your hips, and in one motion, he’s pulled your pussy to his mouth, tongue pressing against the light pink fabric of your underwear.

It feels amazing, but it’s also such a tease- you can feel the wetness of his own tongue, but it’s just out of reach.

“Johnny, please,” you whimper, pushing your hips forward, wanting more-

His nose brushes by your clit and your legs shake on his shoulders, a gasp of pleasure leaving you as you throw your head back and close your eyes.

His fingers hook in your panties, and it’s a relief when he finally pulls them down your legs, discarding them over his shoulder before diving into your pussy. This time, there’s no fabric in his way, and his tongue licks at you directly, a sensation that drives you completely wild.

“John, it’s so good-” you groan, feeling the need to praise the man who pushes his tongue into your core.

He moans in response, and the vibration has your body tingling. You could get lost in something like this, and you can already feel your mind going practically blank. All that matters is the here and now, you and Johnny.

His nose brushes your clit again and a squeal of delight escapes you, your hands flying to grab at his soft hair and fuzzy ears. “John-”

He pulls his tongue out of your wet hole, licking a full stipe of your pussy before he begins to circle your clit, and you swear you’re in heaven.

You can feel tension building in the pit of your stomach, and you know you’re not going to last long like this. No one’s ever eaten you out before with such vigor, such a need to have you like putty in his hands, and you’re more than happy to comply. In fact, you don’t think you’ll be able to help yourself.

His lips suction around your clit and your legs shake on his shoulders, your grip tightening in his hair, which only makes him groan again. You gasp at the feeling, pushing your hips up, needing more contact-

“I’m close,” you whisper, pussy throbbing as he worships your most sensitive spots.

Suddenly, you feel something else, a finger slipping into your tight hole, and you let out another sound of pleasure. One digit becomes two, and they crook up expertly, reaching a spot that has you crying out.

“That’s it,” Johnny says, pulling just off your pussy, breath teasing your entrance. “I want you to cum, Bee. Want you to cum so bad-”

You let out a strangled gasp from the praise, and when his lips return to your clit, fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, you know you’re going to be a goner.

You pull on his hair, legs shaking as you teeter on the edge of ecstasy. When Johnny growls, the vibrations are enough to send you over, and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, whole body overcome with pleasure that brings a tear to your eye due to the intensity of it all.

He continues his motions, helping you through your high until you’re wiggling in his gasp. His free hand smooths against your abdomen, keeping you still while his tongue and fingers begin to slow.

When he pulls his mouth away, you can finally take a full breath, shuddering in the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“You’re just like you were in my dreams,” Johnny tells you, pulling his fingers from your core to suck on. He lets out a groan at your taste. “Sweeter than honey.”

You shouldn’t be in love with Johnny only after three dates, but with lines like this one, you know you most definitely are. In the after haze or your orgasm, you can’t even find it within yourself to care that he has you wrapped around his finger.

“Johnny,” you whisper his name, opening your eyes to look at the man who’s now standing by the edge of the mattress. “Need you now.”

“Let me just grab condoms,” he tells you, heading for the bedside table while tugging his shirt off.

Your pussy throbs just at the sight of him. He’s so big and built and bear-like, in the best possible way-

He undoes his pants, pulling out a condom package that he opens with his sharp teeth. Part of you thinks you should be getting naked too, especially when his briefs come down to join the pants on the floor, but as you watch him roll the rubber onto his large cock, you think maybe he’d enjoy it if the dress stays on… for just a little longer.

When Johnny turns to join you on the bed, you pat the space next to you. He quirks a brow, but follows through, falling flat onto his back. You take the opportunity to mount him, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips while you adjust your skirts, letting them fall over you both delicately.

“You can take this off of me in a minute,” you tell him, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, “but you’ve always told me how much you like my dresses, so I thought-”

“You look amazing,” Johnny confirms, grabbing at your hips and urging you to grind down against his cock, which is caught between your bodies. “My cute princess.”

“My big bear,” you smile, lips moving to his neck while you continue to swivel your hips.

Johnny lets out a groan of appreciation and you kiss him again, tasting yourself on his tongue. You reach under your dress, wrapping your fingers around his cock and squeezing, which earns another moan from the man who makes such perfect sounds.

“How am I going to fit this inside of me?” you ask.

“You can go slow,” he assures you, already panting from your hand alone.

You pull away from his lips, sitting up straight and lifting yourself so you can adjust him beneath you. As you begin to lower yourself on his cock, you find yourself moaning desperately from just the head and the way it stretches you out so well.

You’ve taken some well endowed men before, and the tactic that always worked was small bounces, allowing your pussy to get used to the intrusion as you slowly work your way to fullness. However, Johnny’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had.

“Relax,” he tells you, rubbing circles on your hips through your dress. “Take your time, princess.”

But you don’t want to take your time, you want him inside of you, completely. You want to feel him everywhere, and soon, you’re fully sinking down on his cock, eagerly bending over to press your lips to his again while you both moan at the feeling.

You begin to ride him, thighs straining with the effort, but the reward is worth the muscle ache, and you get lost in the feeling of his cock splitting you open. Johnny begins to meet your thrusts, abdominal muscles flexing with effort while his tongue invades your mouth and he eats up your sweet sounds.

“As much-” Johnny breaks your kiss, gasping. “As much as I like your dress, I want to see you.”

You straighten again, easily pulling the fabric from your body so all that’s left is your bra. You begin to reach behind yourself to undo the clasp, but Johnny beats you to it, sitting up and easily removing the last piece of clothing keeping you from him.

“Shit,” Johnny groans, cupping one of your breasts with his large hand while his lips find your other nipple. His teeth graze the sensitive bud and you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair while your pussy clenches around his cock.

Johnny moans beneath you, pulling his mouth from your breasts. He looks up at you with a wildly desperate expression. “Can I take over?” he asks, breathless. “I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

“Please.” No sooner is the word out of your mouth than his hand is securing around the small of your back and he’s rolling you both, pressing you down against the mattress as his large body dwarfs your own.

“If it’s too much, let me know,” Johnny tells you, swallowing thickly while gazing down at your form. “I can be rough sometimes, even if I don’t mean to be.”

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you smile, cupping his face. “I’ve never actually said this before but… Big Bear, break my back like a glowstick.”

Johnny laughs. “You got it, Bee.”

His lips find your neck, and you close your eyes, grabbing at his strong shoulders as his hips begin to move.

Now that he’s on top, he’s somehow fucking you even deeper than before, and each glide of his cock against your inner walls has your toes curling in pleasure.

He sucks on your sweet spot, making you gasp as his movements get rougher and rougher, the bed beginning to rock from the force of his thrusts.

“John,” you whimper, body alight from the feeling of him, “Don’t stop-”

He only grins, fucking you harder, one hand lifting your leg higher on his hip so his cock can hit a spot deep inside of you that has you gasping-

“Oh my god-”

“Close already, Bee?” Johnny chuckles.

“You just feel so good,” you tell him.

You’ve never experienced anything like this, and you’re not sure if it’s due to his big cock, his ability to use it, or the fact that you actually sort of love the guy you’re literally making love to.

“That makes two of us,” Johnny says, kissing you again and taking your breath away.

You try to focus on his lips, to slow the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, but it’s hard to distract from the cock that's splitting you open like nothing ever has before.

“Shit,” your bear hybrid breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against the crook of your neck, “If you keep making sounds like that, I’m not going to last long-”

“Me neither,” you confess, although he already knew that. “John… you’ll cum with me, right?”

“How could I ever say no to you?” he groans, fingers flexing against your hips. “You’re already so tight, if you cum, I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself.”

You moan at his words, stroking your fingers across his strong back. “Please, I’m so close-”

The bear hybrid practically growls, and the sound goes straight to your core, making you throb around his cock.

“You feel so good, I’m going insane-” you continue your praise, as every time you speak, he somehow fucks you harder. You’re not quite sure where he’s getting his stamina from, but you’ll never be one to complain about it.

Johnny lets go of your hip, and then he’s pushing his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit.

A strangled moan escapes you at the contact, your eyes clenching shut as your body is suddenly teetering on the edge-

“Cum for me, Bee,” he pants against your throat, “I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your entire body tenses as pleasure erupts through you, muscles screaming at how good everything feels. Gasping sounds slip past your lips, and you hold onto Johnny’s shoulders tightly, mind completely blank as the most intense orgasm of your life overtakes you.

The bear hybrid lets out groans of his own, hips twitching as he fills the condom, fucking you through all the pleasure. When he kisses you, you’re already breathless, and his lips don’t help the situation. You’re completely overwhelmed by Johnny, and you’ve never loved anything more.

As you come down from your highs, his thrusts slow, and he stills on top of you, cock buried deep in your pussy while you both catch your breaths.

“Wow,” Johnny says, laughing a little to himself as his kisses move to your neck again. “That was even better than my dreams.”

“You’ve been dreaming about me a lot, haven’t you, Big Bear?” you grin, tracing nothings on his shoulders.

“More than I care to admit.” He swallows thickly. “And something tells me the dreams will only continue.”

“They better,” you smile up at him when he pulls away from your throat.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

With one last kiss to your lips, Johnny rolls off of you and stands up. You can’t help but watch him as he heads to the ensuite bathroom. His body is the most perfect thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing and experiencing.

You take a few breaths while you wait for him to come back, trying to ground yourself.

After the bathroom, Johnny heads into his walk-in closet, coming out a moment later in a pair of black briefs. “I got you a shirt,” he says, holding it out for you. “As much as I love that dress, I think this might be more comfortable for you.”

“Thanks, Big Bear,” you grin, taking it and putting it on. The fabric swallows you up, and you smile at how good it feels to be wearing his clothes.

“I was thinking…” he sits on the bed next to you, hand smoothing up your thigh, “I’m pretty hungry after that workout. Can I make us something to eat?”

“I’d love that,” you say, sitting up.

“Good,” he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet before finding your panties on the floor. “Here, you might want these too.”

You laugh, accepting the underwear and bending over to slip them on.

“So what’s on the menu, chef?” you ask, following him out of the bedroom.

“Well, I know it’s not much, but I was thinking avocado toast.”

“Sounds perfect,” you grin, padding down the stairs after him to the main floor.

In the kitchen, you take a seat at the large island table, watching him as he heads to the fridge and pulls out a few ingredients.

You’re once again struck by how wonderful the silences can be with John. There’s no pressure to fill them with words, and you can simply relax while you watch your Big Bear hybrid work.

His muscles are particularly enthralling as he pulls out a knife and opens the avocado, setting half of it down before he begins to peel off the skin.

“Look at you go,” you smile, “opening that bad boy like a pro.”

Johnny flashes you a look and then lets out a laugh. “I used to absolutely brutalize avocados,” he confesses. “Yuta’s dad owns a sushi restaurant in Japan, so he knows how to do all this cooking stuff. The first time he saw me open one of these he nearly had an aneurysm.”

“Was it that bad?”

“I used to leave the peel on, slice it up, and then try to scoop it out with a spoon,” Johnny grins at the memory. “So yeah, pretty bad.”

You’d never have guessed Johnny would have had such humble beginnings with knife wielding, but you suppose everyone starts somewhere.

You enjoy watching his hands while he works, laying the peeled avocado flat while he slices it in perfect chunks. He’d put bread in the oven at the start, and as he finishes up with the avocado, he pulls the pan of toast out, the colour a nice golden brown.

“Do you make this sort of thing often?” you ask.

“Often enough,” Johnny nods. “Winnie likes her avocados almost as much as her honey.” He places the green slices on the bread, using a fork to press them down before he grabs salt and pepper.

“Can’t wait to try it,” you grin.

“There’s just one last ingredient though,” Johnny tells you, finding a jar of honey sitting on the counter. You watch as he drizzles the golden liquid on top of the avocado, and you can’t help but find the bear hybrid incredibly charming. “There we go,” he smiles, putting all the pieces onto a plate before coming around the table to join you on the bar stools.

“Cheers,” you say, holding up one slice for Johnny to gently touch with his own.

“To the bears, the bees, and the honey that connects them,” he muses.

“To us,” you agree, picking up on the metaphor.

You know that there’s technically nothing special about avocado toast, but it’s still one of the best things you’ve eaten in ages, and you find yourself groaning after the first bite.

“Is it really that good?” Johnny laughs, watching your expressions with a smile.

“Better than good,” you confirm. “If running a club doesn’t work out, you could always be a chef.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Johnny nods with a smile. “You haven’t even tried my barbecue yet.”

“Something tells me you know how to handle your meat.”

The bear laughs at your comment, and you realize too late the sexual connotation of your words.

“I didn’t mean-” you go to correct yourself, but you end up face palming instead, letting out a groan.

“You’re too cute,” Johnny assures you, resting a hand on your knee. “Hey, listen, if you want me to drive you home, I can, but… how would you feel about staying the night?”

“Really?” you blink at him.

He nods. “Really.”

“I think I’d love that,” you admit.

“Perfect, then it’s settled. Mi casa es su casa.”

You smile at the notion of his house being your house. “Since when did you speak Spanish?”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me.” His thumb rubs circles on your thigh.

“Well,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, “I can’t wait to find out more.”

Johnny had closed the blinds last night, so when you wake up in a literal man cave, you kind of want to see the sun. However, Johnny looks so peaceful lying next to you, his plump lips just slightly parted, his fluffy ears twitching from whatever is happening in his dream land- and you think it would be a shame to wake him so abruptly to the light.

You take the time to appreciate him, wondering how you ever got so lucky to end up where you are now. You’d always had a crush on him, but you’d never expected it to be anything more.

You’re so happy that he’d felt the same way you had. If he’d never made a move and asked you out, well- you don’t want to think about that.

When you shift ever so slightly, Johnny’s eyes open, and he squints at you, letting out a groan. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice gruff from sleep.

“I’m perfect,” you tell him. “Are you waking up now?”

“It’s too early,” Johnny grunts, pulling you closer and burrowing his face in your neck.

“I guess I’m used to waking up at this time,” you note.

“Do you have to go? Is there work?”

“I’m thinking of calling in sick, that is… if you want me to spend the day with you.”

“Fuck, yes please.” His breath is hot against your throat.

“I’m just going to step out to make the call, and when I come back, do you mind if I open these blinds? I know this is your bear cave and all, but if you’re going to sleep a little longer, I’d love some light to read a book or something.”

Johnny only groans, but you take it as an affirmative as you untangle yourself from his grasp.

Five minutes later, the room is lit with sunshine and you’re slipping into bed next to him again. Your family has always been extra close with the owner of Queen B’s Honey, so calling in had been simple, and you’re excited about what your day with Johnny will bring.

You’ve found a book to read, some fiction off Johnny’s bookshelf, and when you get under the covers, Johnny is quick to cuddle up next to you again. “Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, voice as groggy as ever.

“Of course, Big Bear,” you smile, adjusting to allow him to curl up next to you. He lets out a deep breath once he’s settled, and you smooth your hands through his hair, gently scratching at the base of his ear.

Johnny lets out a deep groan. “Feels good.”

He falls asleep just seconds later, and you continue stroking him while you read.

Time flies by, and you’re not sure how long you’ve been reading when Johnny finally wakes up again. He lets out a soft groan, cuddling closer to your side. “Good morning.”

“Hi, sleepy bear.”

“I had dreams about you,” he says softly.

“You did?”

“Uh huh,” his hand strokes by your thigh.

“What happened in your dream?” you press, gently scratching his fluffy ear.

Johnny lets out a laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Was it something bad?”

“Something good,” he confirms. “It involved a few cubs running around.”

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest. “Wow, John, I didn’t know you were really thinking that far ahead in the future for us.”

“I can’t help it,” he confesses, rolling onto his back to look up at you. “I know we’ve only had a few dates, but… well, I’ve been into you for months. It’s at a point where I don’t even really look at other girls, and I’m fine if you don’t want to be exclusive or anything-”

“Who said I don’t want to be exclusive?”

A lazy smile covers Johnny’s face, and he sits up, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. “You really want to give this a try?”

“I’d be stupid not to, don’t you think?”

“I mean… I’ve met girls who will only see me as a hybrid, as someone to mess around with for a little while before finding a human partner again. I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t see a future for us.”

“Oh, John,” you shake your head, “I’m not like those other girls.”

“I guess not,” he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

You feel so blessed to be able to give this a shot with Johnny, a real shot. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and as he pulls you into his arms, you have a feeling that everything is going to work out better than either of you could possibly imagine.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you've made it to the end and want something else to read, check out Hyuck's hybrid fic here, or more of Nikki's work on her masterlist here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

�� preview. “Give me a sec and I’ll pull off to a residential street,” he tells you, flicking his turn signal on. “It will take a minute or two longer to get home, but something tells me you won’t mind.” He’s literally the perfect man, and you’re working to get his zipper undone the moment you’re off the main road. Johnny lifts his hips, helping you tug his jeans down just enough to get at your prize.

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, blowing Johnny while he drives, hand job, sex outside in the forest on a car, car sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, quickie, etc… I pet names: (hers) Bee, Princess. (his) Big Bear, John.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2k I teaser wc. 350

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader

bonus

Going to a baseball game is one of your favourite family outings. Between you, Johnny, his sister, and his sister’s husband, the four adults can handle the four cubs that run around you like excitable little rascals at all times.

Hotdogs and popcorn are cheap, and Winnie, as the oldest of the group of kids, spends the whole game explaining what’s happening to your sons, who are much too young to care about baseball.

You and Johnny sit on either side of Winnie, each holding a wiggling three year old twin in your arms. Winnie’s mom and her dad are in the row just in front of you, their own two year old in their grasp.

“So now,” the nearly ten year old Winnie explains to the toddler in your arms, “the bases are fully loaded, and the game is almost over, so the guy with the big bum has to make this hit-”

Johnny murmurs the name of the player up to bat, but Winnie ignores him. She has names for each man on the pitch, and it just so happens that the man swinging has the biggest butt.

The crack of the ball against the bat alights the stadium in cheers as everyone at their bases begin to run, and Johnny stands, holding his toddler while he watches. His baseball cap is backward, but it’s still clear by the jersey he’s wearing that he’s a home pitch superfan. “Go, go, go!” he screams. “Run, butt guy, run!”

You love him, and your perfect family.

You stand too, as this last run of the game is important to your evening plans. If your home team wins, Johnny’s sister will take your twins for the night and give you and Johnny some alone time. However, if her away team wins, you and Johnny are on babysitting duty.

“Go, butt guy! Go!” Winnie cheers, and you find it almost comical how the little girl has no clue that she’s helping cheer on the odds of her sweet Uncle John getting laid.

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jenscx · 5 months

Text

BEST I EVER HAD — uchinaga aeri x f!reader

you’ve had enough of your cold and distant girlfriend. finally deciding to turn the tables on her, you hope she learns her lesson.

TAGS — angst but crack, fluff, popular!aeri, slight jealousy, aeri is lowk an attention whore ngl, cursing, mentions of drinking

WORDCOUNT — 2.1k

NOTE ; a celebratory fic for 900 followers, thank you for all the support you guys have given me ♡

aeri and giselle are two different people. giselle; yonsei’s queen bee, the exchange student from japan whose good looks and fiery personality attracts everyone. she’s someone that every student either has a crush on, or wants to be friends with. cold and indifferent, yet still manages to gain the interest of many. some see her as a challenge, others as eye candy for motivation.

you’ve experienced this very persona— her hateful glares, sharp tongue and harsh words. it’s almost a weekly tradition.

on the other hand, she could easily turn back into aeri. your aeri. the one you fell in love with; her kind gestures, sparkling childish eyes and puffy cheeks when she’s acting cute. you’ve experienced this too and you prefer aeri over giselle any day.

it’s unfortunate that giselle seems to be taking over aeri, and you have to say truthfully, that you’ve been disliking your girlfriend more and more.

“y/n,” she mutters, “i’m not doing this with you right now.”

your gaze hardens.

“then when should we do this?” you ask.

aeri— no, giselle scoffs, “we wouldn’t need to be standing out here, in pouring rain, if you would just keep quiet.”

you hate this. you hate her cold, almost frozen words. you hate her distant personality. you hate her unresponsiveness. you hate the disappointment that she makes you feel, the uncaring and unloving side of her.

you hate giselle.

“he was flirting with you. imagine if i wasn’t there, what would he do? put his hands on you? obviously i would say something. you wouldn’t like it if someone was flirting with me right? unnie, can you understand me?”

giselle frowns, “that doesn’t matter. you should have just kept quiet. now it’s gonna be awkward when i go back in.”

you can’t believe her words. you’re standing out in the rain, freezing cold, and she plans to go back into the bar to continue drinking with her friends? and that guy that keeps flirting with her? are his intentions not clear to your girlfriend?

“you’re gonna just go back in? don’t you understand how I’m feeling right now?”

“truthfully, i don’t.”

all you can feel is shame. no longer do you feel disappointment at her words. how could you be disappointed when you had no expectations? you feel ashamed. ashamed for letting yourself be willingly thrown aside for so long. ashamed for letting giselle treat you however she wanted. ashamed that you had such low standards for a partner.

“if you go back into that bar, i can’t promise you that your stuff at my place won’t be thrown out in the garbage.”

giselle widens her eyes— of course, it’s the first time you’ve said this. it’s the first time you’ve managed to fight back against her. you finally realise how much of a dog she’s been treating you.

“y/n, this… are you drunk?”

“no? i think you’re drunk, honestly. you can go back into that bar, it’s your choice. at least when our relationship is over, you’ll blame yourself, not me,” you say tiredly, tossing giselle’s jacket back to her, “you can keep this. i’ll just take public transport.”

your girlfriend, stunned, almost fails to catch her jacket. she’s rooted to the ground, jaw almost dislocated at how hard she’s gaping.

“unnie, go back into that bar, i don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“hey wait,” her voice turns into a worried tone, one you’re painfully familiar with, “darling, are you being serious? you’ll fall sick. the walk back to your apartment isn’t sheltered.”

her eyes are filled with concern, contrast to the aloofness present in them a moment ago. you don’t dare to look at her any longer, for if you do, you might just forgive her too easily.

you turn away from her, only taking a few steps in the rain before getting pulled back.

“y/n, are you being for real? don’t walk in the rain, fuck.”

“when do you care about my well-being? go back to your friends, unnie. i’m tired.”

aeri rubs her neck nervously, her eyebrows furrowing.

“if you’re tired, shouldn’t i call a cab…?” her voice is shaking, wavering at every word that comes out. you take a good look at her.

huh, you think, she sobers up quick.

“unnie,” you finally say, “let’s take a break.”

“what?” she questions incredously.

you purse your lips together, not explaining further.

“i’ll get going now. text me when you reach home,” you say and swiftly jump into a random cab on the street. meanwhile, your girlfriend stands outside the bar, shocked and confused.

“what the fuck did she mean?” aeri cries, “a break? are we breaking up? did we break up?”

minjeong and jimin only exchange glances. yizhuo is the only one who replies, “you’re just too much for her, i guess.”

“her whole personality did a 180 though? and i was being a little stupid but she wants a break? does she not love me anymore?”

the eldest adds in, “maybe it’s a build up, y’know. slowly you just became unappealing to her.”

aeri looks a second away from crying.

“unappealing?!”

“i don’t think unnie meant it like that!” minjeong quickly reassures her, “i think y/n is just taking some time for herself. you were treating her a little unkindly…”

the japanese girl only wails in anguish. her current state was so pitiful that her friends felt bad. they were of course on your side, but aeri was just so depressed that they felt sympathy towards her. she constantly looked like a kicked puppy whenever you’d reject her skinship.

it’s only been a week since you left her at that bar but aeri was struggling hard.

“how do i fix this? she doesn’t even look upset without me…” aeri asks desperately. so desperately that her friends all wince.

“ah… maybe y/n is giving you the same treatment you gave her? i mean, throughout the relationship, she didn’t really complain much even though i think if you were my girlfriend, i would have slapped you already,” yizhuo supplies.

aeri’s head turns so suddenly and sharply that her friends are startled. originally, her face had been on the table, almost sobbing at her now girlfriend-less life. aeri had forced her friends meet her in some starbucks, saying that you and her would always come here.

“fuck,” she mutters, “was i a bad girlfriend?”

“not bad, just questionable.”

“i think you should really talk to y/n and apologise.”

“yeah you were an asshole.” aeri flops back onto the table with a resounding groan.

that’s how aeri ends up on the doorstep of your apartment, flowers in one hand, and takeout from your favourite sushi place in the other.

her heart was beating out of her chest, in fear of your rejection once more. since the day you left, you only replied to a third of her messages, which mostly consisted of her asking if you had eaten or whether you wanted to hang out. you had avoided every chance to see her, except for once when she had showed up at your apartment even after you said you were busy.

aeri didn’t believe that you didn’t miss her. after spending so long together, there wasn’t a chance where you wouldn’t miss your girlfriend, right? aeri was certain that you would have run back into her arms after being distant for a day.

she was terribly wrong.

your socials, story updates, everything, showed no sign of missing her. was this a break? or a break up?

her hands trembled as she reached for your door, knocking on it.

“y/n…” aeri mumbled, “it’s unnie…”

the door almost swung open instantly and aeri was greeted by the sight of you with bed hair, unkempt pyjamas and behind you, bottles of soju accompanied by one of your friends sleeping on the couch.

“aeri unnie? what are you doing here?” you ask.

you looked frazzled. why would she show up randomly? was she here to finally break things off? of course you had already come to terms with it. with the way she was acting, maybe she had already decided to stop caring.

“y/n, i miss you. when will this be over?”

her words shock you. when was your girlfriend ever this open with her affection during your relationship? was it your absence that finally allowed her to see what she was missing?

“i’m sorry unnie, i still need time for myself.”

that were your last words to aeri. the last time she had ever heard your voice in person. after that day, you seemed more determined to avoid her. sometimes even missing lessons that aeri would know of. you had heard from one of your classmates that aeri would stand outside the lecture hall, waiting for you to come out.

her actions seemed so strange to you then. how could your girlfriend suddenly turn into a different person? she was someone who cared deeply for her reputation, so why would she willingly turn into some whipped girlfriend?

maybe you were starting to become a sadist, because whenever your friends would tell you about aeri’s desperation, it only delighted you more.

to say that you were exhilarated to see aeri at your door once again, holding a bouquet of flowers with your favourite food, it was an understatement.

“unnie? what are you doing here?” you ask, grocery bags in your hand.

aeri’s eyes light up when she sees you, her lips twitching into a nervous smile.

“i came here to talk.”

talk? you think, unnie’s so strange. she’s never wanted to talk before.

“ah, you must have been waiting out here long, come in.”

aeri’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest when you invited her in. maybe she could finally beg for your forgiveness…

your apartment seems so refreshing to be in. aeri regrets not cherishing her time spent here enough. the walls are decorated with memories from your childhood to college years. from baby photos to photos with friends and aeri. the bookshelves are lined with books that you have collected from the past few years in yonsei, developing a love for reading after becoming friends with minjeong, who also was a bookworm.

plants that you have cared for surround the living room. everything in your apartment reminded aeri of you. while aeri admires the space, you finish putting away all the groceries and return to the living room, only to see aeri spacing out.

“unnie? are you okay?” you ask. aeri turns to you, teary.

“y/n,” she places the takeout on the coffee table and sits on the couch, eyes reddening, “i’m sorry.”

“huh?”

aeri chokes out, “i’m sorry for being such an asshole to you while we were dating. i don’t know what’s wrong with me. you should have been my first priority, not my reputation, not my friends.”

“unnie, your happiness is your top priority,” you say, sitting down on the couch as well.

“my happiness is you. i don’t know why that took me so long to realise but you’ve always been the one that made me the happiest,” aeri sobs, “i’m so sorry for treating you like that. you deserve way better than how i was. please don’t leave me. i’ll become better for you.”

your girlfriend starts crying into her hands. you start to tear up too, not from sadness but happiness, that she’s finally caring.

“do you want a hug?” you open your arms. aeri almost flies into your embrace, her face sniffling into your collarbone.

you pat her back gently, “all i’ve ever wanted was for you to care. i’m glad you want to be better for me. i won’t leave you.” you want to add an apology in there too, for making her suffer during this break, but it feels like you were going back to your old ways.

“i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, unnie. i felt really hurt when you threw me aside.”

you can feel aeri’s lips forming a pout, “i’m sorry. i was crazy for throwing away the best thing i ever had. i’m gonna try my best to be the girlfriend that you deserve. if i ever treat you like that again, please slap me.”

“did yizhuo give you that idea?” you ask, amused. it sounded terribly like something the chinese girl would advise.

“how’d you know?”

you both share a laugh and you finally feel that you have aeri in your arms. not giselle. your girlfriend, uchinaga aeri.

#aespa #aespa x reader #giselle x reader #uchinaga aeri x Reader #aeri x reader

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oftenderweapons · 1 year

Text

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours.

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone.

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat.

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery.

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram.

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth.

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see.

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way.

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world.

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance.

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why.

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest.

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now.

“I'm coming home.” You repeat.

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.”

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment.

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend.

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers.

“Candy?”

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call.

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in.

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen.

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower.

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be.

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?”

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more.

“Candy, love.”

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours?

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"?

Who is this man?

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy?

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you.

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish.

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with.

“Candy—” He starts.

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.”

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist.

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass.

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous.

“I reckon you saw the commercial.”

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic.

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?”

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone.

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.”

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade.

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum.

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated.

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.”

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too.

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.”

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other.

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.”

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem.

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone.

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over.

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you.

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod.

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin.

“Pick me up,” you say softly.

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom.

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him.

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day.

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back.

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better.

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him.

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin.

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place.

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.”

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed.

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it.

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so.

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.”

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel.

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow.

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.”

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys.

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein.

“Do you want—”

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.”

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.”

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it.

“Okay.”

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly.

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure.

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass.

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly.

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk.

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already.

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered.

And you close the door on him.

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work.

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights.

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you.

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”.

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does.

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him.

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet.

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest.

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief.

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him.

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show.

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head.

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut.

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see.

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts.

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles.

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face.

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.”

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you.

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes.

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds.

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him.

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly.

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail.

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating.

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb.

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him.

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin.

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need.

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic.

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him.

“I do,” you admit.

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion.

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious.

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions.

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap.

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown.

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts.

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state.

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped.

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea.

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.”

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact.

“Guk?” You ask, worried.

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout.

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch.

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated.

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you.

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him.

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand.

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him.

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth.

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on.

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.”

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you.

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway.

You don’t oppose.

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs.

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy.

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion.

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious.

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again.

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know.

“Please,” you manage to say.

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance.

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells.

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back.

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take.

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you.

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths.

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even.

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice.

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?”

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf.

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly.

You press your lips to his to distract him.

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his.

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment.

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest.

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms.

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you.

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them.

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you.

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?”

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment.

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?”

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you.

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused.

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat.

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot.

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk.

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down.

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully.

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think.

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face.

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers.

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly.

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around.

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him.

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface.

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone.

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge.

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first.

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches.

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to.

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting.

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him.

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure.

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided.

“What— Where—?” He’s confused.

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for.

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him.

“Please,” he whines.

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress.

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines.

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats.

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head.

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?”

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react.

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him.

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen.

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh.

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?”

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless.

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently.

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry.

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?”

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop.

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle.

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables.

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either.

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?”

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.”

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation.

“I'm sure,” you comfort him.

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you.

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath.

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.”

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars.

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?”

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does.

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick.

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.”

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.”

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them.

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you.

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you.

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you.

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face.

His expression is lazy and satisfied.

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours.

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue.

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May.

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up.

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.”

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone.

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more.

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back.

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that.

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him.

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now.

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek.

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass.

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom.

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery.

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young.

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet.

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving.

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably.

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult.

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again.

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

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