#Unnamed rise AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

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Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story.

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck.

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell.

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion.

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table.

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips.

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests.

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression.

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown.

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences.

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes.

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment.

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook.

Fuck.

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you.

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends?

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention.

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests.

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere.

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy.

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek.

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated.

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm.

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants.

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx.

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness.

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass.

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss.

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you.

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips.

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins.

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.”

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body.

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing.

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold.

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric.

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit.

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers.

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp.

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence.

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall.

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more.

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?”

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two.

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves.

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix.

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!”

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too.

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him.

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot.

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment.

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction.

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins.

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo.

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels.

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy.

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

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iprobablyshipit91 · 1 year

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iprobablyshipit91 Fic Recs

So this started as me keeping links of all my favourite Dean Winchester fics that I finally decided to share so others could hopefully find some great stories and the authors would know how much I love their work. It’s kind of grown to a very, very huge list, but I love everyone of these works, they’re amazing and deserve so much love. I hope you find something you love on here 💕

There’s a mix of fluff, angst, smut, au etc. Please make sure you read the warnings for each story on it’s own page.

Beautiful Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Dean Winchester x Reader

Should I Stay or Should I Go by @daisythekitty

Sweet Dreams by @deanssweetheart23

Slip Up by @deanwritings

Bad Moon Rising by @hintsofhoney

Not the Planned Delivery by @lazydoodlesandfanfic

Unnamed by @lostdreamr-blog1

I’ve Got You by @spnexploration

Broken Ribs Against Fingertips by @the--blackdahlia

Motel Diablo by @waynes-multiverse

Sharing is Caring by @zepskies

Mini Date by @avanatural

The Talk by @avanatural

And Baby Makes Four by @carryonmywaywardone-shots

Nows the Time by @crashdevlin

Down on Dean by @deanwanddamons

The Prettiest One by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Always You and Me by @deanwinchesterswitch

Bullets and Bands by @deanwinchesterswitch

Capeesh? By @deanwritings

I Ship It by @deanwritings

It’s Okay by @deanwritings

Safe Now by @deanwritings

What We Lost by @deanwritings

Tell Me About… by @impala-dreamer

Glances by @kasimagines

It’s Okay, I Love You by @kasimagines

Poison by @kasimagines

Obeying Temptation by @kittenofdoomage

Sweet Satisfaction by @kittenofdoomage

Nannas Love Sammy by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Something New by @princessmisery666

Date Night by @princessmisery666

I Would Never Hurt You by @procrastinatorimagines

Frayed Ends by @scuttling

Must be Love on the Brain by @sleepywinchester

Below Freezing by @soaringeag1e

Promises by @supersleepygoat

Friendzoned by @talesmaniac89

Stupid Cupid by @talesmaniac89

Crazy on You by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Different by @watermelonlipstick

Labyrinth by @waynes-multiverse

Love on the Brain by @waynes-multiverse

Gesundheit by @waynes-multiverse

Dark Waters by @wearywinchester

Above Ground by @wearywinchester

I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) by @zepppie

The Wrong Winchester by @cherry3point14

Good Things by @crashdevlin

Baby Spoon by @deanwanddamons

Rumours by @deanwinchesterswitch

Blind Love by @jawritter

Faded by @kasimagines

Sacrifice by @kasimagines

The Last Call by @kasimagines

To Know You by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Watch and Learn by @littlegreenplasticsoldier

Can’t Fight This Feeling by @pink-sparkly-witch

Mischief Managed (2) by @sinfulsoulx

A Few Moments of Madness | Last Time? by @smellingofpoetry

Familiar by @spnhunter4life

Dream On by @talesmaniac89

Well, Hello There Stranger by @talesmaniac89

If You Want it to Be by @zepskies

Midnight Espresso | Devour Me by @zepskies

Clear the Area by Alisha Ashton

Many of Horror by Alisha Ashton

Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks by Alisha Ashton

In the Dark by Alisha Ashton

Comfort by @fangirlingfromdownunder

Baby, We’ve got a Problem by @deanwritings

Night Falls by @deanwritings

Captives of the Court by @impala-dreamer

Carry On by @jawritter

My Saviour by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Heart of a Hunter by @muchamusedaboutnothing

The Widow by @pink-sparkly-witch

The One That Got Away by @pink-sparkly-witch

Hold On I’m Coming by @ravengirl94

The Arrangement by @ravengirl94

Long Way Home by @supersleepygoat

Cross my Heart by @smol-and-grumpy

Home to You by @smol-and-grumpy

Collared by @spnexploration

Pack by @spnexploration

Limelight by @talesmaniac89

Charity Heist by @talesmaniac89

The Man in Apartment 43 by @talesmaniac89

Practically Magic by @thelibrarylesstrektraveled

Supernatural Series Rewrite: Season 1 by @waywardaardvark79

Supernatural Series Rewrite: Season 2 by @waywardaardvark79

Miscommunication by @winchest09

Don’t Say a Word by @winchester-girl67

Never Say Goodbye by @zepskies

#fic recs #Iprobablyshipit91 fic recs #Dean Winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean x you #dean winchester #please read these fics #you wont be disappointed #protective!dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester saves you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn

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sprout-fics · 10 months

Text

Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 5

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 5.6k Rating: PG-13 Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Sexual tension, Slow burn, Domesticity, Literal sleeping together, Bed sharing, Angst/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Sexual harassment by unnamed characters

In the days that follow, you begin to feel your heart unfurl.

You wake before König most mornings, pad on bare feet to the hearth with its still glowing embers and allow fire to blossom under your hands. The infant flames ward off the growing chill of dawn, light against the planes of your face until they crackle against the logs. It's the sound of splintering wood and bubbling steam from the kettle that often wakes König, who refuses to draw from bed. Instead, he tucks himself closer into the covers, growls at the thought of wakefulness and dozes a little longer. You find it oddly endearing, and it makes sense, given his seemingly nocturnal nature and with the both of you spending long hours into the night talking about all manner of things.

"I've always loved the stars." He tells you one late evening, while you perch in the loft with him, a shawl draped over your shoulders and legs dangling over the edge. He gazes up at the beams of the cabin as if he can see the sky beyond. "I learned when I was a boy to navigate by the sky. I know the winter constellations- see?" He leans over to you, shoulders bumping and raising a hand to trace invisible paths beyond the ceiling. "There's der Wasserman, the water bearer- and der Widder, the ram."

You smile, lean further into him as if you can somehow see the heavens beyond his gaze. He smells like ferns, of damp soil and pine. It floats through your thoughts, holds you cradled against his side until your eyes grow heavy to the sound of his voice.

When you wake the next morning, you find yourself in your bed, one of his blankets tucked around your shoulders, and the faint memory of being aloft in his arms.

The blanket smells like him.

König stays inside during the daytime lest he be seen by your neighbors. You venture out on most days, relishing the sunlight on his behalf. There's always work to be done in the village, and for you, who lives alone, that goes thrice fold. You hike up your skirt as you chop wood for the stove, dig through damp earth for mushrooms and roots to trade for meat, gather apples from the wild orchards, let bread dough rise above the hearth so the scent fills the cottage. Normally the things that feel mundane, perhaps even a hindrance, are now tinted with a soft sense of joy- knowing that once they are finished you return home to him and his company.

There's a tenderness in your heart that you fail to notice at first. It blooms like soft spring flowers, hides the gentle pale of its petals until sunlight washes over it. The air you breathe feels lighter, scented with rosemary hanging from the rafters, filling your lungs in a way that is wholly unfamiliar and yet so welcome. It feels much like the sound of his voice, the brief glancing touches he seems almost afraid to offer. When you meet his stare, the green of his eyes feels like a misty springtime meadow.

König is gentle with you in a way no one else has ever been. He's a touch shy, but in a way that's blessedly endearing. He calls you by soft names, Fraulein, Liebchen, and your favorite: Rotty- a play on your red cloak. He drapes it around you one morning, tying the ribbon with fumbling fingers as his eyes dart from yours to the lopsided bow. When you smile at the sound of his voice, his eyes alight with joy that bleeds into your soul. The companionship between you two comes as naturally as breathing, two lonely souls gently entwining themselves against the growing November frost to keep warm the slow filling of your hearts.

You can't deny the glances you steal when he isn't looking, watching the way he stretches so his just too-small shirt rides up the planes of his stomach or the reach of his muscular arms as he climbs the ladder to the loft. You thought his build was wiry at first, the way he was hunched in his cave, frightened and scared. Yet the more König shares your meals with you the more he fills out, adding bulk to the broadness of his shoulders and thighs.

"See something you like, fraulein?" He asks playfully when he catches you ogling him one evening as the fire glows warmly against his skin. You only return the humor in his voice with your grin.

"I like you." You reply and laugh when he splutters. Yet then he rubs the back of his neck and turns, and the moment is lost.

There's a strangeness between you two that falls in the silence. You lay awake in your bed at night, listening to him snore softly in the loft, and feel your face warm when you wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms. You remember the way he relaxed into your embrace when you looped your arms around him from behind on the night he told you of his mother, wishing he would draw you closer into him in the same way you wanted him. You want to feel the warmth of him bleed into you, chase away the distant ache of your heart as he whispers your name in the darkness.

You...might want him.

Yet, you aren't sure if König wants you.

It goes beyond his shyness. There seems to be a hesitancy to König sometimes that you can't fully understand. Every time he draws closer, lets his voice grow a touch softer, and you think maybe he'll reach out and touch you, he withdraws. Almost as if he doesn't trust himself, as if he won't allow himself. There’s secrets in him that wind around his heart like brambles. You want to reach out in the space he's left absent, tell him to come closer. Yet König seems to know that he might prick your fingers, draw red from the pad of your thumb like the same curse that befell Aurora.

He seems haunted by something you can't see, something that makes him toss and turn on some nights, muttering in his sleep. Yet by the time you climb up to the loft to try to wake him, he's settled once more into stillness, and his nightmares remain a mystery. Come morning his eyes are full of warmth, and the affection in them is sometimes so profound you have to avert your gaze as your face warms under his stare.

You wish he would tell you the things he is hiding, hope that it fills the unknowable distance between you so you can indulge in the feeling of his embrace. Maybe if he tells you, he’ll allow himself to harbor affections for you in the same way you do for him. You wonder, sometimes, if you'll ever get to know the things concealed by the brambles of his heart. Maybe if you push too hard he'll leave you, and you'll be alone again.

You wish...he would stay.

-----

When you arrive at Laswell's, the mood is sour.

You enter into a quiet scene, one filled only by the hushed discussions around Laswell's table and the crackling hearth beside it. They seem not to notice you as you enter and close the door behind you. You eye your companions uneasily, instantly able to discern the low, roiling tone of frustration and restlessness that permeates the cottage.

Price is leaning back in his chair at the table, arms crossed, brow furrowed, having not even lit his pipe- a tell-tale sign of uneasiness. Beside him, Soap leans into his hands with a similar expression, listening to whatever hushed words Laswell is saying to them. Gaz casts them anxious looks from where he crouches near the hearth, tending the flames. You feel the atmosphere press heavily down on your shoulders, stale the air in your lungs as you perch nervously by the heavy oak door.

It's Ghost who notices you, dark eyes flicking up to yours with a quiet greeting. It seems to startle the rest of them from their reverie, eyes turning towards you as you approach with a tender, anxious smile.

"Red." Laswell breathes, and the flintiness fades from her stare into something more familiar. "Please, come sit."

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should interrupt what seems to be a serious discussion. Yet there seems to be a relief in the expressions of your friends, so you settle on the chair Laswell has kicked out with her foot for you, depositing a basket of goods atop the table.

"What's all this?" Soap asks, quick to rifle through the contents of the basket, pulling aside the cloth atop it with eager fingers.

"Some bread, jam, dried fruit, a little bit of lamb." You supply, grinning as Soap's eyes light up happily. The announcement seems to dispel the growing air of anxiousness in the cabin with a sigh of gratitude. "I figured it's a lot to feed four hungry witchers. I'd rather you not eat Kate out of house and home."

Gaz strides over as well, plucking a glass jar of jam from Soap's hands and examining it with a broad grin. He turns it over in his hands a few times before his gaze alights upon you, eyes relieved and appreciative.

"I haven't had blackberry jam in ages." He conveys softly, a touch tender but more than pleased. "Usually we're eating on the run- rabbits, squirrels, boar if we're lucky."

"Snakes too." Soap tells you over a mouthful of bread, wasting no time in devouring some of the food. You think you might hear his stomach growl. "Ghost won' eat em. Can't blame him, they're a little gamey."

"I hate snakes." Ghost offers lowly with a mild sneer, though he too draws closer to the table, plucking a few dried apples and pocketing them for later.

"This was very sweet of you, Red." Price offers from where he sits, face relaxed from his previous scowl. His words are soft, reassuring, and seem to seep away the remnants of taut unrest from the room. You feel your shoulders relax, smiling in return at his friendly, beholden gaze.

"Did you walk here by yourself?" Laswell asks, and you turn to her to see her concerned gaze flicker across her gray eyes.

The unspokenness of the threat that continues to linger in the woods weighs heavy on her words. You needn't be reminded. The entire journey over here, despite the brightness of daylight dappling through the canopy above, was fraught with memories of a massive black shadow in the woods. Even now you can't shake the memory of glowing eyes at the periphery of a haloed lantern, gleaming in the darkness, watching.

"It's still bright out." You explain, shaking off the thought. "I'll be back before dark too. I promise."

Kate looks a little unconvinced, and though she opens her mouth to speak, she's interrupted by a grunt of disapproval from Soap as Gaz tries to wrestle a roll out of his hands. The two bicker for a moment before Laswell sighs, levies them with a stern look and gentle reminder of "Boys." that has both witchers instantly obey and duck their heads in apology.

"Let them eat, Kate." Price sighs, rubbing a hand over his face wearily. "They'll need their strength."

That seems to pass through the group like an electric current, summoning the bright flash of eyes and coiled muscles in response to Price's words. You blink at the return of this tense atmosphere, slide your eyes to Laswell's pinched expression. She catches your gaze, holds your stare for a long moment.

"The full moon is the night after tomorrow." Kate confesses quietly, and her hands reach between you to settle upon yours in your lap. You look from them to her face, your expression open with concern.

"But-" You manage, realization drawing across your thoughts. "You haven't found the wolf."

Somehow, it's Ghost's eyes you land upon in the room of averted gazes. The masked witcher refuses to look away for a few moments, and you think that if you peer past the mask you can see the tightness of his brow in frustration.

"There's been no sign of it." Gaz confesses quietly. "Not since that night."

That night, weeks ago now, the one where you had met them for the very first time. The one where you had allowed yourself a single look over your shoulder to see the mammoth, ragged shadow that seemed to blot out the light of the moon. It had gazed after you, your red cape fluttering behind you as Price rode off into the darkness, feeling the glowing stare of it chasing behind your thoughts.

"You injured it." You breathe, remembering Price at your door soon after. "Maybe...maybe you killed it?"

Price shakes his head, lips a thin line. "We would have found the body by now."

"T-then maybe you chased it off." You try, voice a little firmer now. "Maybe it got injured and retreated up to the mountains."

It's Soap who offers you a quiet, concerned gaze, having placed down his food. "Even if that were true, lass, it will come back. The thing needs blood, it needs to eat."

You feel an icy wave of dread wash over you, one that's not warmed by the crackling hearth at your back. Gaz nudges his friend a touch harshly, scowling.

"Don't scare her." Gaz warns quietly, and Soap levies a glancing frown at him.

"Not tryin’ tae scare her." He retorts, rubbing the spot on his arm. "She needs to know."

You swallow. Your throat feels dry.

"Know...what?" You venture quietly, and Soap turns to you once more, eyes softening as he takes in your frightened gaze. Yet it's Price who responds to your query.

"Your village." Price offers solemnly, and all eyes in the room draw to his hunched posture, his darkened gaze. "Many may die."

Devastating silence.

You stare at Price, your horror written clear across your face. The cabin suddenly feels too small, too thin, the perimeter of the woods pressing closer in on you. Suffocating. When you breathe, it isn't the familiar smell of dried herbs and bubbling stew. No, you swallow and taste the phantom scent of blood.

"W-what do you mean?" You manage, voice very small, wavering with fright.

Price stares at you grimly, and there's a faint concern to his stare that is shielded by the grave nature of his words.

"A wolf of this size may not stop at slaughtering livestock." He explains, voice low in prophetic warning. "We've seen what a monster like this can do. Even if you board your windows, lock your doors, paint the hinges with wolfsbane, it may not be enough to stop it."

A vision washes over you as you stare at the captain, eyes bright with fear. Your thoughts play the image of a massive, snarling beast destroying the walls and doors of houses, of snatching your neighbors from their homes and crushing them between its jaws as red seeps into the earth below a heavy, full moon. Screams slice through the air, and even with arrows lodged in the creature's back it only snarls, cuts through flesh with gigantic, glinting claws.

None will be safe.

"Red." Laswell presses forward, tone urgent. "Please. Come stay here. I know you don't want to leave your home, but it isn't safe. We can protect you. I don't-"

Laswell swallows, oddly emotional. Her gray eyes alight with a sudden insistency that plucks at your ribs. "I can't lose another friend." She whispers, feather light like graveyard mist. "Please."

Your face falls, mouth snapping shut as you regard your friend.

Gently, the soft smell of ferns, of earth and musk washes across your senses, draws you back through the winding forest paths and up the steps of your cottage. There, it's a familiar voice, gentle and pleased that greets you, that skims across your skin and leaves glowing captivation in its wake. His soft words wind around your thoughts, draw you closer to him, into the sensation of your arms wrapped around him while he whispers a question to the starlit sky, and to you.

“Would you ever leave?”

“…Yes.”

You can't leave him.

It's not that König needs you, you realize, but that you need him.

The realization thunders inside your chest hard enough to make you jolt, blink until your eyes focus once more on the woman in front of you. Kate's face is ashen with concern, and you swallow under the intensity of her stare, hands trembling.

Maybe, you think, maybe you can find a way to protect him, to keep you both safe, to bring him to your new friends without the promise of his destruction. If you can do that, if you can keep him until dawn rises on the third day-

"Just one more day." You whisper, even as the waxing moon inches closer towards fullness with every heartbeat.

"Just one more day."

-------

Your words linger in the back of your mind as you meander in the direction of the village. It's not dark, not yet, but the sunlight is fading beyond the trees, hiding behind the hills. The dimness nestled in the shadow of the valley slowly falls as a curtain over the forest and the creatures within it.

Price had once more offered you an escort back to the village, but you'd gently refused him. You need the time alone to think, and between the crowdedness of Kate's cottage and your sheltered guest back at your own, the woods offered a welcome respite from the tumult of your thoughts.

The threat of the wolf, of the monster you saw that night murmurs inside your chest with a heavy, consuming dread. Your dreams continue to be plagued by the beast, offering visions of your red cape snagged in brambles as you race through the darkened, misty woods. The wolf chases you, the earth thundering under your feet as you flee. When you stumble, fall, the creature halts to raise his fanged muzzle to the heavy yellow moon, howling a cursed abraxas before his glinting eyes fall upon you once more.

It's been several weeks now since that night, but the fear the monster presents has yet to fade. Now, in the imminent promise of the carnage to come, you huddle into yourself, look to the trees and wonder if these woods will be the same as they once were once all is over.

You're terrified, of course. For yourself, yes, but for your friends, fit to fight as they are. Soap's story of his young, brawny squad mates falling one by one to a werewolf's claws ripples across the vision of all of them, and you try not to imagine them befalling the same fate. The image of your tiny, unassuming village devastated by the wrath of a singular behemoth feels less like a nightmare and more like an imminent prophecy.

As you look down the streets just as you meet the edge of town, you try not to imagine them streaked with blood and ash, houses torn asunder and the mangled corpses of your neighbors strewn across the lanes. You feel powerless to stop it, knowing the fate that awaits you all, but unable to protect anyone. Not even yourself.

Not even him.

Your house glows with warm, welcoming lantern light in the distance, smoke curling from the chimney with the gentle whisper of birch across your senses. You know the sound of the voice that will greet you, know the soft skim of his fingers and the unblinking interest in his eyes he never speaks. You know you'll both talk long into the evening as you always do, laugh over steaming mugs of cider until your eyes droop heavy and he offers a ginger murmur of "Sleep, Rotty."

You want these evenings to go on forever, you think. Your home is no longer the hollow, empty thing it once was. It feels warm, full, embraced in a tender touch that soothes the lonely fringes of your soul. The presence of him feels so much like the pine scented cradle of the woods around you, something that holds you safe, ensconced in protection. It whispers words to you that you can't understand, but you know in your heart all the same.

Home.

A home about to be ravaged, destroyed, and perhaps him with it.

He asked you once before in a desperate plea not to tell the witchers of his presence, too afraid they might see a leper like him as something not human- a threat. You've worked hard to earn his trust, relish in the gift of it bestowed in chuckled laughter and fleeting touches. To betray it, to tell Laswell that as much she wants to protect you, you need to protect someone too, to reveal him to the people who may very well want to hurt him-

You pause just beyond the stone fence of your yard, look up at the small slope leading to your front door, and once more feel your chest ache with terrible indecision.

You can protect him, you think in a silent, daring hope. You can protect him just a little longer from them.

As your hand lands on the wooden gate to your garden there's a voice that calls out behind you, and you freeze.

You can't make out the words, slurred and unintelligible as they are, but it's the tone that makes you pause, your startled expression peeking from under your red hood.

A man stumbles his way towards you. You recognize him. He's one of the hunters' sons, a lanky, young fellow with large, boyish ears and scruffy dark hair. He's smiled at you before, but the intentions behind his eyes had seemed anything but gentle. The night you, Soap, and Gaz rode through the town square you think you might have seen him, silent as the accusation of your impurity rang hollow against your curled form.

He's holding something in his hand, and you shy away from him as he approaches, untrusting of the staggered sway of his feet and sinister sprawl of his lips. Your stomach roils with acute awareness, skin suddenly cold beyond the chill of sunset.

"Guten Abend." He greets casually, slurring his words. He leans on the corner post of your fence as you try and subtly shift towards your front door, senses awash with danger. "You looked so lonely walking home, fraulein. May I keep you company?"

"No." You respond quickly, voice flat. You scowl at him, trying to clearly display your steadfast disinterest, but the waver of your voice fails to conceal your fright. He seizes on it, straightens and takes a step towards you. It only makes you take a noticeable step back. "Please leave."

The hunter’s son frowns at that, pauses to raise the bottle in his hand to his lips. The wine inside runs a red rivulet down his chin. Yet the ire in his expression is gone in a moment, replaced once more by his ill-intentioned grin.

"It's almost the full moon." He croons, straightening and running one hand over the fence posts as he saunters towards you. You slip inside the gate as he does, chastising yourself for never fixing the latch. Your frowning disposition has taken on a skittish anxiety now as he tries to close the distance, instincts blaring with alarm as he continues. “It's dangerous to be here alone, by yourself."

I'm not. You almost say, jaw snapping shut before you can reveal the presence of König inside.

"I can protect you." He goes on, resting a heavy hand on your gate you'd closed behind you, and your skin prickles at the brazen encroachment on your territory, hands shaking at your sides. "I can keep you safe from the wolf."

"I don't need your help." You bite back, hackles rising now at the threat this man poses to you. Though you tremble where you stand you still plant your feet, raise your voice in an effort to ward him away from you and your home. "You need to leave."

The ire returns in the form of a sneer, and before you can stop him the man swings the gate wide and makes towards you with a growl. You skid on your feet for a moment before racing up the hill to your door, making it inside moments before his fist pounds on the wood. When he tries for the handle you’re quick to latch it, preventing him from entering. It does nothing to calm his temper, and he shoves at the door with your back pressed to it.

"You think you're better than us!" He yells abruptly from beyond the threshold, and you tremble as you desperately press yourself to the door, feeling it shake under his blows. "You're nothing more than a common whore! You and that witch have seduced those men, we can tell!"

Witch.

The accusation pulses through you like an axe to wood, bludgeoning your fragile nerves and making your hands rise to your mouth to contain a shuddering cry of despair. It’s a curse, a jinx meant only for ruin. Once you’ve been accused to the village of such a thing, no amount of protest could ever prove your innocence. Laswell, even with her gray-eyed wisdom, wouldn’t be able to escape.

Neither would you.

He’s cursed you both.

"I bet you're a witch too! Just like her!” He bellows, kicking the base of the door so hard you squeak a shrill, high sound choked in your throat. “You probably brought the wolf here yourselves to kill us all!!"

You can barely hold yourself upright, terrified beyond measure as the door trembles. The earth rolls underneath your feet, shuddering along with your form. Fear, dread, realization bubbles as a deadly potion inside your veins, making your whole body tremble and sway unsteadily. The drum of your heartbeat is fit to burst, the thrum in your ears thunderous, nearly blocking out the man’s voice.

“Do you hear me?! You’ll be the death of us all!!”

A shadow looms over you, falling across your figure and blotting out the warm haze of lantern light. You whimper on instinct, mind discerning just another threat as the body above you leans to brace his wide palms on the door. He leans to keep it from shaking at your back, green eyes watching you shake and shiver, hands pressed to your mouth to silence your cries.

"Don't listen." König tells you, loud enough for only you to hear. His voice is gentle, a startling juxtaposition to the man on the other side of your door. You cling to it desperately, trying to find an anchor amidst the fear and confusion of this sudden assault even as the man yells and pounds at the door. König remains silent, still, pressing his weight against it to try and keep it from trembling. His eyes look down at you even as tears threaten your own, feeling so much like a little girl lost in the woods with no way to escape.

At last, your accuser grows tired, hurls a few remaining curses at you before you hear him stumble down your garden and back towards the main road. You listen to him leave, take several long minutes to be entirely sure of his absence before finally unleashing a trembling, shaking breath of relief.

König waits a long moment before he removes his palms braced above you, no longer crowding you with his massive frame. Yet he doesn’t move away from you just yet, lingers before you even as you breathe into your palms, watery gaze cast to the floor. It’s only once his hand catches your chin, tilts you up to his masked gaze that he speaks.

“Rotty.” He whispers, that beloved nickname he’s bestowed upon you, now spoken with such tender hushed concern. “Are you alright?”

Your lip trembles as you look up at him, face warm with mortification, fear, and anger all rolled into one. Your eyes threaten tears, and through them you can see the soft, worried light of his gaze onto you. He holds you as if you’re something fragile, threatening to break apart should he dare touch you. Yet the warmth of him is undeniable, a flickering hearth that draws you closer. You desperately want to bask like springtime flowers under the dappled sunlight of his stare.

Like home. Your mind offers again, unbidden, and the thought is enough to finally make the tears overspill. A sob cracks your throat, the desperation of loneliness bubbling up in a cry before you can stop it, sending you hurtling into his chest.

You fall into him, arms stretching to wrap as far around the trunk of his form as they’ll go. König jolts at the unexpected touch, coiling in surprise. His hands flutter uncertainly over you, as if he’s not entirely sure where to put them. You think perhaps he’ll pull away, will gently pry himself from you with a hushed apology. He’s constantly like that, allowing himself to dance closer to your flickering flame, only to pull away once more into the shadows. So, your arms fasten around him, fists gripping at the fabric of his shirt in a silent bid to keep him there just a little longer.

Slowly, he eases, allows himself to unwind with a barely audible exhale. His hands descend to your shoulders, soothe downwards to your back, pressing you closer into him as you shudder. You drink in the scent of him, moss and rosemary that floats down from the rafters, of damp soil that coats your fingertips in a beloved embrace. There’s a part of you in this moment that thinks perhaps you’ve known him all your life, have been wandering these woods in search of him without knowing it ever since you were a child- lost and lonely…

…and now found.

“It’s alright, Schatz.” He murmurs in a hushed reassurance, buoying you against him as you desperately try to contain your sobs. His hands grip at you as if he’s trying to memorize the press of your figure against his, as if it will be the last time he will ever hold you. It summons a fresh bout of tears to your eyes, throat thick with a gasping sob as you nestle further into his chest.

“They can’t hurt you.” He goes on, and his voice takes on a dangerous intonation, the semblance of growl reverberating against your wet cheek. You feel his nails dig into your shoulder for the briefest of moments, as if suddenly sharpened by his anger, only to relax less than a heartbeat later. The meaning of his words is left unsaid but echoes in the scarce space between you all the same.

“I won’t let them.”

He allows you several long minutes of your shoulders trembling under his palms before he gently slides his arms around you, bending to cradle an arm beneath your legs. He lifts you to him, and you go without protest, looping your arms around his shoulders and tucking your chin under his jaw. He’s gentle as he moves, careful of where he steps and oddly different from his typical clumsy nature. After a few moments he slowly descends, releasing you so you gingerly slide into your bed.

Yet when he tries to carefully remove your arms around his shoulders you make a whimpering sound of protest, webbing your fingers together in an unbreakable hold.

“Please.” You whisper, throat hoarse from crying, afraid he’ll refuse you. “Stay.”

König pauses, until he releases his inhibitions with a soft exhale. “Of course, Rotty.” He murmurs, and moves to arrange himself beside you in bed, hauling you back into his embrace and curling around you protectively.

The last of your sobs abate, but the fear and worry there remains behind. You cling to König as if that will keep him by your side, protecting you from the curse about to befall your beloved valley in the shadow of the monster. You wind yourself around him like ivy, desperately trying to never part from him, keep him nestled in the hollow of your heart as long as you’re allowed. His deep, even breaths whisper across your skin, feeling like the barest whisper of a breeze through aspen trees.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He vows in a sacred whisper to you, an oath you shut your eyes against, wanting it desperately to be true. His arms close around with a sudden ferocity so fervent it steals the air from your chest. “I’ll protect you, Rotty. I won’t let them touch you.”

You stay silent, allowing the meaning of his words to wash over you. The secrets between you remain unspoken, and as desperately as you want to understand them you settle for this instead- the heat of him, the curl of his body around yours, the press of his hand in your hair, the arm settled heavy across your form that shelters you from the world. You try to memorize it, try to imbue it into the repository of your memories so that if you survive the imminent cataclysm you’ll continue to remember him.

One more day, you remind yourself with a silenced whisper. One more day here, with him. With us.

You send a prayer up to the heavens that after all of this is over you’ll both walk into the woods hand in hand, having found each other after a lifetime of wandering the fern lined paths.

The moon grows heavy in your thoughts.

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httpsleclerc · 3 months

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under the monaco moonlight - vampire!au

pairing/s: Gasly!Reader x unnamed!bf, Vampire!Charles Leclerc x Gasly!Reader, Platonic!Pierre Gasly x Gasly!Sister!Reader, Platonic!Arthur Leclerc x Gasly!Reader

c/w: Implied smut, attempt of sexual assault, brief shitty descriptions of violence, bad ending??

w/c: 1.7k

summary: Charles Leclerc is in love with the forbidden fruit, or his best friends sister Y/N Gasly and can't control his instincts when she's in trouble.

a/n: no one asked for this but I might do a part two if anyones interested x

masterlist

Charles knew this was wrong.

You were his childhood best friends little sister, but he couldn't help himself from watching the way your hips swayed in time to the music which blared over the speakers, your mini skirt - Which he knew your brother would not be happy seeing you in - rising higher up your thighs as you moved. He knew that it was wrong to think of himself between your thighs, pleasuring you in ways which you'd never been before, satisfying you unlike how the boy you were grinding against would.

He needed you so bad it hurt.

If his heart were beating he was sure he'd feel it ache in desire for you.

He stood by Arthur, his eyes trained on you as his jaw clenched and he tightly gripped the glass he'd been nursing as he watched you, so tight that he would surely smash the glass into tiny pieces if he held it any harder. He feared if he pursued you any more than he had, then your heart would end up in the same way as the glass could, he feared he'd fall too in love with you and sink his teeth too far into your neck, leaving you helpless and bleeding. He'd never be able to explain himself to Pierre, how could be explain what he had done to his best friends precious baby sister? Your one night fling weeks ago had become a regular thing, despite you being adamant that you loved your boyfriend, but any time you and him had sex, all you could do was think about was Charles, how good he made you feel, how deliciously full you felt when he was inside you, the way that he left you stumbling the next day; scrambling for an excuse to try and satisfy your boyfriend.

"You are staring at her again, Charles," Arthur chided his older brother, he knew just how in love with you Charles was, but also knew that he'd never let himself love you properly for the fear of hurting you. Sleeping with you and being the other man would have to suffice for now.

"No I am not," Charles defended himself quickly, too quickly for Arthur to believe him. "I'm just...keeping an eye on her with that stupid boy. Pierre asked me to." Arthur chuckled at Charles' excuses. The two Leclerc's watched as you turned and faced your boyfriend, giggling as you pressed a small kiss on his lips and heading off to the bathroom, entrusting him with your drink - Which would be your first mistake of the night. Charles watched as you weaved your way through the mass crowd of the club towards the bathroom and flitted his attention back to that of your boyfriend, watching as he emptied a sachet of white powder into your drink.

"Charles?" Arthur nudged him, trying to see what had gained his brothers attention but Charles' attention was otherwise diverted away from his little brother. How dare this boy violate your trust like this?

"Fucker, I'm going to kill him," Charles went to storm off, but Arthur grabbed him before he could do any harm to your boyfriend. "Arthur let me go. He's going to hurt her." He backed off, noticing that Charles' eyes were no longer their usual green colour, now a deep, dark red. His eyes scanned the crowd, seeing you standing back with your boyfriend, now looking disoriented and swaying on your feet, putting up no argument as he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the crowd with no regard to you stumbling over your feet in your high heels.

Charles weaved his way through the crowd, blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins as the music continued to pound through the speakers and coloured lights flashed and illuminated the otherwise dark club that he was in. Making his way outside, his pale skin shone under the Monaco moonlight, eyes scanning for you anywhere in the crowd gathered outside of the club.

"No, I don't feel good," He heard you whining from a dark alleyway a couple of streets down, your voice thick with tears and fear. You felt like you were dying, you were hot one minute, cold the next, your stomach was halfway up your throat ready to be thrown up at any minute, and you didn't have the strength to defend yourself against your boyfriend. You wanted to go home, you wanted Pierre to come and get you and make sure that this boy was too scared to ever look in your general direction ever again. "(Name), please stop, I don't feel well." You pleaded, futilely trying to push him off of you, your eyes welling up with tears as he pushed his knee in between your legs.

"It won't hurt as much if you stop struggling, pretty girl."

That sent Charles over the edge. He promised Pierre that he wouldn't let anything happen to you and now you needed help. Before he could hurt you any further, he was pulled off of you, hitting the wall opposite with a grunt.

Charles loomed over him, his teeth bared and eyes red.

Drowning out the sound of your crying and whimpering, Charles let his instinct take over, tearing into your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend as you screamed and cried, unsure if you were really seeing this or if you were hallucinating. You covered your eyes as you cried, shielding yourself from the violent attack happening in front of you.

Charles huffed he stood back up, wiping blood away from the side of his mouth and turning back to face you, his stomach dropping as he saw your distraught and distressed state. Panicking, he pulled your hands away from your face hoping that his familiarity would in some way calm you down - but the sight of your brothers best friend with red eyes and a face covered in your boyfriends blood only pushed your fear.

"No! Let go of me! Someone help me!" You screamed out, trying in vain to push Charles off of you so you could find someway to get back home. Charles, in a further panic, pressed his hand onto your mouth to silence your screaming.

"Please calm down, ange, it's all okay, I promise," Charles tried to calm you, even if it appeared to be without any result as you continued struggling to try and get away from him. "Please, please just calm down and let me explain, just let me talk to you." Looking into Charles eyes, you found yourself feeling more and more at ease, still despite your efforts to get away from him. His stomach sunk as he realised he'd unintentionally tranced you, leaving you at his mercy.

"Charles, what...what's going on?" You dazedly asked him, slumping forward into his embrace and leaning your head on his shoulder, leaving your neck perfectly exposed to him; Charles found months and years of self-control withering away, he'd never allowed himself to be in such close proximity to you.

"Please not now, Y/N, you need to rest," He tried to persuade you to go to sleep, hoping that under your trance like state that you would. Fighting sleep, you looked up into Charles' red eyes, hoping to find some glimpse of your Charles, not this...blood sucking monster, you wanted your Charles who always made sure to clean you up after your sexual encounters, who made sure that you were still okay with what you were doing, who you knew loved you but for some reason you never knew, could never let himself.

"I love you, Charles," You confessed, pulling his blood soaked face to look at you, even though all he could focus on was the pulse point of your neck, the sound of your blood rushing through your veins was too much for him to take.

He couldn't take it anymore.

You let out a gasp as Charles' fangs pierced through your neck, two sharp pain points flashing and then going numb. You knew that it was futile trying to get away from him, and accepted that if this was how you died, then you were dying in the arms of the man that you loved - even if it meant you'd never see your beloved brother again.

As Arthur made his way outside and up the street to look for where Charles had gone, he stopped in his tracks as he saw you laying almost lifeless in his brothers arms, his teeth well sunk into your neck as the blood had almost been drained from your body and the life drained from you.

"Charles! stop!" He pulled Charles off of you, unsure if you were even still alive. "Oh my God, Charles, you have to help her." Arthur checked your neck where Charles had bitten you, feeling a faint pulse.

"No, I can't, Pierre will kill me, Arthur," Charles was near hyperventilating, and looked at Arthur confused as he let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"Oh, and you think he won't kill you when someone finds her here dead and you have to explain to Pierre that it was you, and that you left her here like a coward because you can't control yourself?!" The two brothers were now panicking, despite being in some way immortal, they were terrified of Pierre, your older brother was fiercely defensive over you. Acting quickly and moving beside you once more, Charles bit into his wrist, piercing the vein and watching as his blood slowly trickled out, much darker and thicker than your own, and put his wrist at your mouth, forcing you to drink his blood despite your very weak protests.

"We'll take her back to my place, tell Pierre she met a friend and she's staying there for the night, deal?"

"Deal."

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc angst #sebastian vettel #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #vampire!au #vampire!Charles leclerc #pierre gasly x sister!reader #pierre gasly x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #supernatural au

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