#you have so much thrust upon you from such a young age | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kwanisms · 7 months

Text

Monsoon Season — y.jeongin

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ kumiho!Jeongin × f!Reader

wc: 17.4k (all of these are gonna be at least 10k so prepare yourselves for that lol)

summary: Jeongin has always been a bit of an outcast in his village being half fox demon (kumiho) until a kind stranger takes him in during a monsoon and gives him more than a place to stay for a few days.

genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural and demonic themes, historic themes, s2l; non idol au, demon au, historical au (kinda)

warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Jeongin is bullied heavily, physical violence, a building is burned down, Jeongin gets hit over the head with a branch by the reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip

Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST!

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: I'm a sucker for Jeongin in general so there's that. He needs more content and I'm happy to provide that. Anitta is just a codename used by Jeongin's mother. it'll make more sense later what I'm talking about. it's a surprise, shhhhh! Thank you for reading and if you liked this, please reblog or comment! Also consider supporting my work through my kofi (link is in my pinned post). As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (it’s a period piece and I’m not looking up ancient contraceptive techniques lol just use protection) first time sex, degradation (m receiving), begging, corruption kink, virgin!Jeongin, use of pet names (baby boy, sweetheart, little fox, etc), Jeongin is a subby whiny baby. Take it or leave it. If I missed anything, just let me know!

dialogue prompt: ❛ Have you never been touched like this before? ❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

To a kid, the word orphan is often used as an insult from other kids. Jeongin was lucky that he never had to hear that word until he was much older. He was just shy of fifteen years when his father died from pneumonia. Old enough to be considered a man but Jeongin didn’t feel like a man.

He felt like a lost little boy who just lost his father.

His mother had left not long after Jeongin’s birth. His father had tried his best to explain to Jeongin how his mother didn’t love him any less. She just had a different way of doing things. She had things she had to do, tasks to see to and couldn’t take a newborn with her.

That was the nature of a kumiho. Others called her flighty, said she abandoned him but Jeongin knew better. He had her journals, gifted to him on his fifteenth birthday by his father on instruction from his mother. Jeongin had spent his free time reading those journals, getting to know his mother through her words. It was a surreal experience for him.

His father couldn’t tell Jeongin much about his mother other than that she was incredibly cunning, kind, and compassionate. He also spoke of her beauty. Jeongin had never seen a portrait of his mother and had no idea what she looked like.

“I see her in you,” his father often told him. “You have her eyes and her hair.”

Jeongin took solace in the fact that he resembled his mother. It was comforting in a way.

When Jeongin was finally thrust upon the cruel world at a young age, he had luckily learned enough skills from his father to survive. He knew how to hunt small game and fish. He grew a simple garden that was enough for one when he harvested it. He had spent time foraging with his father and knew his way around the forest’s shrubbery and other plants.

He knew which ones were food, which ones healed, and which ones killed.

Jeongin was able to raise himself, growing into a man of limited means and he kept to himself except when he needed to head to the village to trade his furs for other things he could not provide for himself, like clothing. He’d never learned how to sew as he had no mother to teach him and his father also didn’t know how.

So another morning was spent gathering the furs he’d chosen to sell, setting them aside for the ones he wanted to keep. And he packed some food for his trip to the village. His walk through the woods was always quite so early in the morning. The sounds of the forest waking up, birds calling out to say good morning as the sky lightened from deep indigo to a light periwinkle, the sun creeping over the horizon.

The first rays of sunshine had started to break through the trees as Jeongin reached the village which was also bustling, everyone having gotten up around the same time as he. He ignored the stares as he walked through the village towards the market, readjusting his bag as he trodden on.

He could hear murmurs and whispers as he passed but chose to ignore them. Sure, he perhaps didn’t stick out as much as a full blooded fox folk might, but his blond fox ears, hair, and orange eyes gave him away immediately. Folk around these parts didn’t normally sport such a contrasting hair color.

Jeongin’s father had told him he took after his mother after all.

Upon reaching the market, Jeongin looked around, surveying his surroundings and looking for the lady his father had always purchased clothing from. He spotted her and made a beeline as she was folding garments, setting them down on the wooden stall before her.

“Morning,” Jeongin heard her grumble. Unlike the rest of the villagers, this woman had always been kind to him as he accompanied his father, sneaking him sweets and other homemade candies when his father wasn’t looking. The caramels were his favorites.

“Morning,” Jeongin parroted as he looked over the linen tunics. His was starting to fit a little too snugly and the threads were wearing out. His pants would last him another winter at least. As he was looking over the tunics, he heard a voice as sweet as honey call out.

“Granny, I can’t find the skirts!”

Jeongin looked up in time to see probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life appear before him. He stared, awestruck as she walked over to the old woman. She had waist length black hair that fell in soft waves down her back, half of it pulled back and secured with a comb. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, much different than the dark brown or black he’d grown accustomed to.

She was petite, smaller than he was, with a slender frame and a pale complexion. She met his gaze and Jeongin felt as if the world stopped moving. Everything around him seemed to slow, almost as if time was stopping. The sounds around him drowned out as he stared back into those brown eyes.

Her pale, pink lips pulled into a shy smile before she averted her eyes to look at her grandmother. “They’re in the chest, not the sacks, dear,” the old woman replied and waved her hands. “I’ll get them,” she said, brushing past the girl and around the cart.

The girl looked after her grandmother before stepping towards the stall. Jeongin managed to snap himself out of his trance and had looked down to resume inspecting the tunics. “This would look nice on you,” the girl said, brushing her fingers over a black tunic.

Jeongin glanced up, meeting her gaze and quickly looked away as did she. He noticed the blush that crept over her cheeks. “I’ve never seen you before,” she suddenly said, smiling as Jeongin looked up. “Are you new to the village?” Jeongin opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted.

“He lives in the forest,” the grandmother said as she returned, arms loaded with fabric that she dumped onto the stack of boxes next to her. “This is my granddaughter, Haneul,” the old woman said as she started to fold the skirts and place them on the wooden surface of the stall.

Haneul turned to look back at Jeongin. “What’s your name?” she asked. Jeongin was caught off guard and forgot to answer, instead just smiling and nodding at Haneul. She giggled as he realized his error, shaking his head before answering awkwardly. “Uh, I’m Jeongin.”

As the old woman folded the skirts, Haneul reached into a small pouch on her hip, glancing at her grandmother before pulling her hand out and quickly handing something to Jeongin when her grandmother wasn’t watching. Jeongin glanced down at his hand and felt heat spread to his cheeks.

Sitting in his palm were three wrapped caramel candies. The ones the old woman used to give him. He smiled, tucking them away in his bag before clearing his throat. “I need some shirts,” he announced. “Very well,” the old woman said. “What do you have to trade?”

Jeongin ended up trading one of his tanuki furs for three shirts, two light colored linen ones and one black one. He also managed to trade three of his rabbit furs for a new tool set. As he thanked the blacksmith he turned around and bumped into a body.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized profusely, bowing quickly. The woman he’d bumped into patted him on the shoulder and went about her business. Jeongin was about to turn away when he caught Haneul watching him, an amused smile on her face. When their eyes met, Jeongin felt another rush of heat over his cheeks and waved to Haneul who returned the gesture.

Before Jeongin could turn and start making his way home, he felt an arm hook over the back of his neck, draping across his shoulders. “Well, well, well,” said an all-too-familiar voice. “Look what the dog has dragged back to the village!”

The comment was met with a cacophony of laughter as Jeongin held his tongue.

“Hello to you too, Baek-hwa,” he said monotonously. He glanced up at the taller man, noticing he was now surrounded. Baek-hwa’s friends were staring him down and Jeongin felt like this wasn’t going to end well. He felt Baek-hwa’s arm tighten around the back of his neck.

“What are you doing here, thief, I thought I told you to stay away from the village,” Baek-hwa said under his breath so only Jeongin heard him. “I’m not a thief, Baek-hwa,” Jeongin replied softly. “I just came to get some things and I’ll be going back home now. You won’t have to see me again for a long time.”

Baek-hwa clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You really should have stayed away.”

It didn’t take long for Baek-hwa and his friends to drag Jeongin away from the market and behind a hut before they started laying into him. His bag was torn from his grip and tossed aside as they landed blow after blow on him. Jeongin had learned from a young age that if he avoided trouble, he’d be okay but he knew that wasn’t always the case. Regardless if he stayed out of trouble, it always managed to find him.

He leaned against the wall, doubled over in pain as Baek-hwa’s friends goaded him on. “Kick his ass!” one laughed. Jeongin glanced at where his bag sat and then looked up. His assailants were too busy egging their leader on. He had a small window. Mustering his strength and taking a deep breath, Jeongin pushed off the wall, knocking over one of his attackers.

He snatched his bag and took off as they shouted after him. He may not be as strong as they were, but he was definitely faster. He was more agile having spent all his life living in the forest. They had no hope of catching him once he made it into the treeline.

Jeongin didn’t stop as he vaulted over fallen logs and through the underbrush. He made sure to loop around the long way to lose his pursuers if they were even still following him. He didn’t want to take the chance that they would follow him home and come knocking.

It was midday by the time Jeongin finally reached the front door of his father’s cabin, pushing aside the curtain that hung there and stepping over the threshold. He set his bag down and moved to peer out the window. He saw no sign of life and let the curtain fall back in place before he went about his business.

His father had been in charge of keeping up the home but without his help, the cabin was slowly falling apart and Jeongin didn’t know much about building. There were poorly made patches in the roof that barely kept out the rain and more than once, parts of the roof had collapsed. Jeongin did his best to make it work as he had nowhere else to go.

He was sitting by the fire, heating up some stew he’d made the previous night when he heard it.

A distant crash of thunder. Looking up from the fire, he let out a sigh and glanced up at the roof.

“Just hold out for tonight, please,” he begged the thatched hay. “Just one more night.”

The storm blew in quickly after that, dark, thick storm clouds obscuring the sun and bringing with it heavy rains and strong gusts of wind that whipped around the small cabin, making the walls shake and blowing through the cracks Jeongin hadn’t managed to seal properly.

Several times, he was afraid that the roof was going to collapse or a wall was going to cave in and then the entire cabin would crumble around him, trapping him inside.

Rainwater leaked through the shoddy patching, drenching almost everything under it. Jeongin huddled up in the corner as his furniture and almost everything was soaked. The only thing that saved him was the built-in table in the corner.

He had dragged most of his bedding from the bed to the corner, curling up in the only fortified, safe, and dry place in the cabin. It was here that he fell asleep, curled up with his blankets and pillow as well as his bag and the small box his father had left him. The only important possessions in his life.

The storm raged all night and finally blew itself out by dawn, the dark storm clouds retracting as the sun rose, almost as if shooing them away. Jeongin woke as the sun was climbing and crawled out of his cubby, inspecting the damage. His plea to the roof had saved him. The thatching had held up for the most part but it would have to be replaced. Jeongin wasn’t sure who he could even ask.

He headed outside to inspect his garden and was pleased to see that the garden remained safe and untouched as he picked up a few twigs that had blown in and tossed them away. His firewood stores were also surprisingly dry with only the top layer soaked from the rains.

All in all, he’d managed to survive another monsoon storm. As he was cleaning up stray leaves and small branches, Jeongin heard voices and looked up, his stomach dropping as he spotted Baek-hwa and his friends. ‘No,’ he thought. He looked around and darted inside the cabin, starting to grab things, placing them inside his bag as the voices grew louder and louder outside.

“Come on out, thief, we know you’re in there!” came Baek-hwa’s voice. Jeongin swore under his breath, filling his bag with as much as he could but he knew he wouldn’t have time to leave out the front door. He’d be spotted and then they’d follow.

He dropped the bag by the back window before exiting the cabin to face his tormentors. If he was lucky, they’d just beat him up and leave quickly and then he could leave. He didn’t know where he’d go but now that they knew where his home was, they would be back.

“There he is,” Baek-hwa said as he stopped, leaning against the fence Jeongin’s father had built to keep their small homestead separate from the forest around them. “The thief shows his face.”

Jeongin’s fingers curled in against his palms. “I’m not a thief,” he said, a little more forceful than he intended. “Stop calling me that.” The smirk on Baek-hwa’s face dropped instantly. “You raising your voice at me?” he asked, his tone low and dangerously so.

“You think you can just raise your voice and talk back to me and I’ll let it slide?”

Jeongin held his ground. This was his home after all. “We’re outside the village,” Jeongin replied. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore, Baek-hwa.”

The man laughed, looking around at his friends. “This is my world, Jeongin,” he said, actually saying the blond fox folk’s name. “You’re just living in it.”

Jeongin forced a smile. “No it’s not,” he answered, shocking Baek-hwa. Never before has Jeongin acted so defiantly but like Jeongin said, they weren’t in the village. Jeongin wasn’t afraid of them out here. Sure he was dangerously outnumbered but he didn’t have to worry about causing the village trouble out here.

“I’ve had enough of your smart mouth,” Baek-hwa said before nudging the friend standing beside him. “Teach him a lesson, Jae-song.”

The man next to him climbed the fence, landing in the garden and stared Jeongin down before advancing slowly through the small rows of vegetables, making sure to stomp on them as he strode towards Jeongin. “I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born,” he spat, bringing his fists up.

Jeongin didn’t move, standing stoically as he stared back at Jae-song. “Beat you to pulp and leave you for the scavengers,” he added. Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “Your parents must be so proud,” the smaller man retorted, catching Jae-song off guard before Jeongin tilted his head. “Oh wait…” he said with a scoff. “They’re dead.”

Jae-song gritted his teeth and swung at Jeongin who dodged the blow easily. “Picking on smaller people and beating them up for the fun of it. What would your mother think?”

Jae-song let out an angry yell. “Shut the hell up!” he swung again but Jeongin managed to dodge it again, this time pushing Jae-song forward, using the bully’s momentum to send him running face first into the side of the cabin.

“And stay down,” Jeongin added as Jae-song fell to the ground, holding his nose and writhing in pain. “I’m getting sick of this,” Baek-hwa said loudly. “Grab him.”

Jeongin turned as two more of Baek-hwa’s friends hopped the fence and advanced toward him, also kicking and stomping on the vegetable beds as they went. “Two against one?” Jeongin asked, raising a brow. “How noble of you. Or is it pathetic that you need help to take me on?”

Jeongin ducked as two separate fists swung at him before kicking out, knocking one of the assailants down and rolling out of the way as the other aimed a kick at him. Jeongin was back on his feet as the one who tried to kick him, came lumbering forward. As he was about to take another swing, Jeongin dodged around him, kicking him in the backside and sending him toppling over the fence.

“Enough!” Baek-hwa said, climbing the fence himself. “I grow weary of this,” he continued, advancing in Jeongin, stalking forward like a panther stalking its prey. Jeongin kept his eye not only on Baek-hwa but also on his friends who seemed like they were going to sit this one out.

“You sound like some kind of villain, talking like that,” Jeongin noted with a laugh. “I grow weary of your games,” Jeongin mocked, turning as Baek-hwa circled him slowly. “I’m going to end you,” Baek-hwa growled angrily. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Again with the villain talk. Come on already,” Jeongin said exasperatedly.

Baek-hwa leaned into his punch as he threw his fist forward. Jeongin managed to block the attack before counter attacking with a blow of his own to Baek-hwa’s side. “You little shit,” Baek-hwa grunted, reaching for Jeongin who dodged again, pushing Baek-hwa’s hands aside.

The taller man tried again, aiming a punch that Jeongin deflected before hitting Baek-hwa in the throat with his palm. Immediately Baek-hwa backed off, choking from the sudden impact. “Go home,” Jeongin said as he watched Baek-hwa stumble backwards. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

As the men helped each other up and staggered out of his garden, Jeongin heard Baek-hwa’s strained voice call out. “We’ll be back, thief. Watch your back!”

Jeongin watched as they disappeared in the forest and breathed a sigh of relief. Never before had he stood his ground against his tormentors. He was grateful for the few self defense lessons his father had given him before he passed.

Jeongin looked down at his mangled vegetable beds and sighed. He would have to go foraging and salvage what he could. He needed to pack up everything and leave tonight. He knew Baek-hwa and his friends would be back.

He entered the cabin, grabbing a basket and heading out into the forest. There was a berry patch not far from his cabin but the terrain made it a longer task of traversing to it. Once there, Jeongin started to gather some of the berries. There he also found wild carrots, chives, cabbage, and potatoes. He gathered what he deemed necessary for tonight as well as some for his trip and started to make his way back.

The sun was starting to set when he reached his cabin and he felt his heart sink and his stomach drop. Baek-hwa and his friends had returned but this time he was really outnumbered. He had half a mind to sneak around to the back of the cabin and grab his bag without being seen but just his luck, one of them turned and spotted him.

Before he could turn and run, he was grabbed from behind by two sets of hands, the basket knocked from his grip, and dragged over to where Baek-hwa stood. “Not so tough now,” Baek-hwa sneered. Jeongin looked around at the ten or so men Baek-hwa had brought with him.

“Judging by your entourage, I’d say you aren’t very tough either,” he quipped.

For his comment, Baek-hwa landed a blow, punching Jeongin hard in the stomach and causing him to double over in pain. “That’s for earlier,” he snapped before looking towards one of his friends and nodding. Jeongin looked up in time to see one of the men he’d fought earlier holding a torch. His eyes widened in horror.

“No,” he said, struggling against the two holding him. “Stop!” he shouted as the one with the torch lit the garden on fire before moving towards the cabin. “Stop, please!” Jeongin shouted and continued to struggle. “Everything I own is in there! You can’t do this!”

Baek-hwa smiled smugly as Jeongin’s father’s cabin was set ablaze. “Actually, I can,” Baek-hwa said.

As the cabin caught fire and the flames spread, Baek-hwa stepped back allowing the others to take turns punching and kicking Jeongin. “S-stop,” Jeongin coughed. “Please.”

Baek-hwa laughed cruelly. “That’s what thieves get,” he said as Jeongin collapsed to his knees, only being held up by the two beside him. Jeongin weakly watched as the flames engulfed his home and burned presumably everything inside. Everything was gone. The cabin, the roof, his furniture, his stores… his eyes widened.

His mothers journals.

‘No,’ he thought as he stared at the fire.

He hadn’t finished reading them all.

Jeongin struggled against his captors. They held onto him tightly as Baek-hwa watched the inferno with a smirk. With a strength he’d never experienced before, Jeongin managed to pull free from his captors, delivering a punch to each before tackling Baek-hwa to the ground.

His actions were so sudden that everyone was caught off guard as Jeongin grabbed Baek-hwa’s head and slammed it against the ground, dazing the man before he scrambled off him and pushed through the hands that tried to grab at him. He burst into the flaming inferno, shielding his eyes as he looked around. His bag by the window sat untouched.

Before grabbing it, Jeongin darted under the table, tearing through the blankets until he found the bag with his mothers journals. He grabbed it and got up, eyes landing on the trinket box his father had made sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. Jeongin dashed across the room to grab it, stuffing it into the bag with the journals before he moved to the back window, grabbing the bag and heaving it over his shoulder.

Tossed both bags out the window before climbing through. Grabbing the bags, he took off into the forest as the fire consumed his home, the roof finally collapsing. Jeongin turned to look back at the raging inferno as he slung the bags over his back. ‘No going back now,’ he told himself as he watched the flames dance before turning away from the sight and heading further into the woods.

He’d never been this deep before. Glancing skyward, he could see clouds were obscuring the stars and he could only assume another storm was brewing. He made his way through the forest, making his way down embankments and crossing streams as he continued deeper than he’d ever ventured before.

As he stopped to catch his breath, he could hear voices in the distance.

“I think he went this way!”

Jeongin’s eyes widened. Baek-hwa and his friends had followed him?! Looking around, he saw a small opening under a tree sitting atop the embankment he was currently at the bottom of. He scrambled up, making his way over and peered inside. He couldn’t see much but hoped for the best as he removed his bags and stuffed them through the opening before pulling himself up using the roots of the tree.

He slid into the opening feet first and wiggled into the space. It seemed to be some sort of den. Most likely abandoned but he didn’t dwell on it, instead kept himself hidden as he peered out into the forest. He heard footsteps overhead and ducked back into the safety of the small cave waiting for the pounding of his heart to subside.

He waited as the sounds of feet and voices continued around him. “Did you see which way he went?”

“No.”

“Maybe he’s hiding nearby.”

“Well we’ll never see him in the dark.”

“Maybe we should come back when it’s light out.”

“Enough,” a voice Jeongin recognized to be Baek-hwa’s snapped. “He couldn’t have gotten far,” he continued. “Spread out and find him.”

“How?” another voice asked. “With what light?” Jeongin guessed this voice to be Jae-song’s. It sounded like him anyway. “Here,” another voice said and Jeongin saw light flicker and dance outside the opening of his hiding place. Glancing back, he could barely see that this was indeed a den. He grabbed his things and scooted back further, hoping to stay out of sight.

He waited, listening patiently as footsteps trudged through the forest, twigs snapping underfoot.

He carefully crawled toward the opening and peered out. He could see two of the men standing nearby as they searched the area. “Find anything?” one of them called. “Nothing yet!” another voice called back. “This is so stupid,” one of the men said softly. “There’s no telling which way he went.”

The one that had spoken up before nodded in agreement. “I know,” he answered just as quietly. “But you know how Baek-hwa is. Ever since he saw Jeongin talking to Haneul, he’s just been set on making Jeongin suffer,” he added as he held his torch up, peering around a tree.

“I mean, it’s not like doing all this is going to impress Haneul,” he continued. “She doesn’t even like Baek-hwa.” The second man nodded as well. “I know! It’s like--”

What it was like, Jeongin didn’t get to hear as he watched a shadow cut across the small illuminated circle, passing both men. The second smaller one let out a grunt of pain and Jeongin watched in horror as blood spilled from his mouth, a look of pain crossing his features as he fell to his knees.

“Wonjae!” the first man said in shock as his friend collapsed, blood gurgling from his mouth. “What happened?” Jeongin watched as the shadow passed again, quick as lightning, passing the first guy who let out a choked cry of pain before falling to his knees as well, blood seeping through his shirt and he fell to the ground. Jeongin froze realizing he’d just watched something kill those two men.

‘What the hell?’

“Where are they?” called a voice, drowning out Jeongin’s thoughts. “Over here! Dabin! Wonjae!”

Jeongin watched as two more men entered his field of vision. “Are they okay?” one of them said as the other knelt down to check the bodies of their friends. “They’re… dead,” he said, his voice shaky. “D-dead?” the other stammered, taking a few steps back.

“What happened?” Baek-hwa’s voice called from somewhere above Jeongin’s hiding place. “They’re dead!” the one kneeling beside Wonjae and Dabin’s bodies called back. “Shit,” Baek-hwa cursed. “Get down there and help them get the bodies,” he instructed someone Jeongin presumed was beside him.

Jeongin watched as two more men appeared and helped pick up the bodies of the two men and carry them away. He listened as the footsteps retreated and pulled back as the area was thrown into darkness once more. He listened as the sounds of the forest came back and he could finally rest.

He tried to get some sleep but his mind wouldn’t stop. ‘What was that shadow? Was that what killed those men?’ He tossed and turned until he finally managed to pass out.

The next morning, he awoke to find light creeping into the cave and he could finally see. It wasn’t a huge den, maybe only big enough for a family of foxes or so. He had enough space to sit up. He could tell it wasn’t dug out by whatever previously lived here. Perhaps it was naturally occurring.

He gathered his things and left the safety of the den, squirming his way out of the opening and could see that it had rained the night before. He pulled a flask from his bag, filling it with water before he placed it back and stood up, slinging both bags over his back again. He started the way he’d been going the night prior, moving deeper into the forest.

He continued as the sun rose, stopping briefly to have something to eat before continuing on. He didn’t see Baek-hwa or his assailants again as he continued on. He noticed how the terrain started to slope up and he knew he must have reached the base of the mountain. If he could reach the otherside, maybe he could find another village where he could set up a new homestead.

He continued on, stopping when he heard a twig snap from behind him. Turning quickly, he expected to see Baek-hwa or his men. He was met with nothing. He couldn’t see anyone or anything other than the trees for that matter. Perhaps he was hearing things?

He turned back and continued forward. He’d only gone a few more steps when he heard another snapping twig. He froze again, turning his head around to see what was following him but again, he saw nothing. He turned back forward, but instead of taking another step, he waited. Waited for something else.

Another twig snapped, this time closer but instead of looking, Jeongin stayed still. He kept calm, listening as soft steps carried toward him. He spun quickly, catching sight of what had been following him. His eyes widened as he made eye contact with it.

‘A fox?’ he thought to himself. Looking back at him was a small fox with black fur and golden eyes. He stared back at it, expecting it to run but instead it stared back at him. He watched in awe as it took a tentative step forward, still keeping its eyes on him. Jeongin slowly knelt down as the fox approached, holding out his hand.

The fox looked at his hand and then up at him before its head turned slightly to look at something behind Jeongin. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He tried to turn to see what was behind him but he felt a blow to the head and everything went black.

You looked down at the man, the branch in your hand as you breathed heavily. “Oh my god,” you whispered as the realization of what you’d done crept over you. You tossed the branch aside and looked back down at him. Looking at Clover who looked up at you, golden eyes judging you. “I’m sorry!” you said holding your hands out. “Look, I panicked! I thought he was going to grab you!”

The fox rolled its eyes and you looked away, back at the man lying unconscious at your feet. “Should we take him?” You looked back at Clover who stared back at you unblinking. You nodded. “Right. Leaving him here would be bad. Got it,” you said as you brushed your hands together to get the dirt from the bark off. Clover watched as you reached down, sliding your hands under the man’s arms and lifted, starting to drag him along the ground.

You heaved and pulled, panting as you did only to receive more judging looks from Clover. “Look,” you panted. “You could help me, you know.” Clover rolled their eyes again before the vision of the fox spun and morphed into a man. “I don’t know what you’d do without me,” he said as he waved his hand, the man’s body lifting from the ground.

You smiled at the wizard and dusted your hands off again. “Thanks, Clover!” you chirped as he shook his head. You led the way, skipping along the path as the man’s body floated behind you with Clover bringing up the rear.

You skipped faster as the cabin came into view. “Almost there!” you called out to your friend who rolled his eyes as your chipper demeanor. “You know,” he said as you started up the path leading to the door. “For someone who is so violent, you sure don’t act it,” he continued, guiding the man’s body after you.

“I’m not violent!” you called back as you reached the door and unlocked it, pushing it open and holding the door so Clover could guide the man into the room. “Just put him on the bed,” you said softly as Clover guided the man’s body over to the bed where he hovered for a moment before falling haphazardly on the mattress. “Careful!” you chastised, rushing over to sort out the man, moving his head and arms so he wouldn’t be sore when he awoke.

“You hit him over the head with a log and you’re telling me to be careful?” Clover chuckled as he stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest. “What a strange person you are, Y/N,” he added.

You stood up straight and turned towards him. “Well, I must be off,” he said, standing up straight. “Will you be alright, alone here by yourself?” he asked. You shook your head. “Right, just hit him with another log if he gives you trouble,” Clover said with a smirk. Your smile fell. “I. Panicked, okay?”

Clover nodded, waving before exiting the open door. You rushed over to watch as he headed down the path, turning once to look at you waving at him. He raised a hand before turning into a raven and taking flight into the sky. You shut the door and locked it before turning your head to look back at the man on your bed.

“Alright,” you continued, taking a deep breath and walking over, placing your hands on your hips as you took a good look at him. “Now, just who are you?”

Jeongin woke to the sounds of light clattering and the scrape of metal against metal. His head was throbbing. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust. He turned his head, wincing at the pain that followed. He was inside a cabin of sorts.

He could see shelves with books upon books and a desk that was cluttered and covered with papers, writing implements, and an assortment of herbs and rocks. He tried to sit up but his limbs felt heavy. He looked down and noticed a strange purple aura encasing him.

“What the-”

“Oh, you’re awake. Good,” said a voice and Jeongin looked up, seeing a figure by the hearth where a fire was crackling, heating up a large cast iron pot. The smell of meat and vegetables reached his nostrils and he took a deep inhale. Whatever it was in the obvious cauldron smelled amazing.

“Where am I?” he asked as the figure turned their gaze away from him and stirred the contents of the pot.

“You’re in my cabin, what a silly question to ask,” the figure said with a chuckle. Jeongin watched as they set the spoon aside and moved towards the bed. Jeongin looked up as they approached and took a seat beside the bed. “What have you done to me?” he asked as the person, he could now see was a female, looked over him, gently turning his head and prodding the tender spot.

Jeongin winced and the figure grimaced. “Sorry,” she said. “I hit you over the head.”

Jeongin looked up at her. “You what? Why the hell would you do that?!” he yelled.

You moved your hand, your finger moving in a quick circle and Jeongin felt his jaw snap shut.

“Don’t yell,” you said as you grabbed a basket with some medical supplies in it. “It’s rude.”

‘Well, so is hitting someone over the head,’ Jeongin thought since he couldn’t talk.

“My name is Y/N,” you said as you pulled out a small vial. “And I hit you over the head because I thought you were going to hurt my friend.” You looked down at him and Jeongin felt his heart skip a beat. Your eyes. They were a bright golden yellow. Much like that fox from before.

“Do you remember the fox?” you asked and Jeongin nodded as he watched you pull the cork on the vial. “That’s my friend Clover. I thought you were going to grab him and hurt him. Foxes aren’t exactly revered around these parts,” you explained as you turned the vial over, allowing some to spill onto a cloth.

You set the vial aside and leaned forward, holding out the cloth only for Jeongin to shy away. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “I know your head hurts. This will make it not hurt.” Jeongin hesitated, allowing you to gently press the cloth to his head. He winced but soon, the pain as well as the throbbing went away and he looked up at you in shock.

You winked at him, placing the cork back in the vial and returning the little glass to the basket. You waved your hand and freed his mouth. “Who are you?” he asked softly. You looked down at him unblinkingly. “I’m Y/N,” you said plainly. “I already said that.” Jeongin shook his head.

“I meant like… who are you? Are you like… a witch?” he asked to which you laughed. “I’ve been called that before,” you answered with a nod. “But more importantly,” you said, leaning forward. Jeongin was unable to pull too far away due to whatever spell you had his body under.

“Who are you?”

Jeongin cleared his throat. “I’,m uh… I’m Jeongin.”

You sat back up straight. “Jeongin, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head. He nodded, glancing down at his body still shrouded in the purple aura. “What is this?” he asked, nodding towards the aura. “Oh,” you said suddenly, waving your hand and it disappeared.

“I just did that while you were out and I was busy cooking so you didn’t try to sneak up on me,” you explained as you started to stand. Jeongin moved quickly, sitting up and grabbing your arm but you were quicker. You managed to roll, pulling him off the bed and pinning him against the floor, his arms pinned to his sides by your legs as you straddled him, your forearm pressing against his throat.

“I’m not your enemy,” you explained softly. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try to hurt me.”

Jeongin tapped the back of your calf, surrendering to your power.

Just as quickly as you were on him, you got up and held out a hand, pulling him up when he took it. “Let’s eat,” you chirped and walked over to the fire. Jeongin stood hesitantly. “Sit,” you instructed and he did as you said, moving to take a seat at the table. You grabbed a bowl and picked up the ladle, scooping stew into the bowl before moving to set it on the table.

“It’s hot, so be careful,” you said as you filled another bowl and took a seat across from him.

Jeongin watched as you picked up your spoon and took a bite. “It can’t be that hot,” he noted, to which you looked up. “Want me to throw it in your face and test that theory?” you asked with a smirk, tilting your head. Jeongin’s eyes widened and he quickly picked up his spoon, shaking his head.

“N-no,” he stammered before digging in.

He could tell there was meat and potatoes, maybe some cabbage and rice but it was delicious. He scooped another spoonful into his mouth. “S’good,” he said as he ate and you smiled, turning your attention back to your own bowl.

Jeongin had forgotten the last time he had a proper meal and ended up eating three bowlfuls of stew. You reached to take his empty bowl but he stopped you. “You cooked,” he said before getting up. “Tell me where to go and I’ll clean them.” You smiled but ignored his comment, taking his bowl.

“You’re still injured,” you explained. “Go lay down, let me deal with this and then I’ll look at your wounds.

Jeongin watched as you headed out the door and instead of laying down, he started to poke around the cabin, inspecting your belongings. He was used to the small huts in the village where he lived. Nothing this extravagant. Wooden doors that locked, windows with decorative frames were things he’d never seen in person, only ever heard of.

The cabin was one room, like his had been but it was much cozier. There were no cracks for the wind to sneak into, the roof was sturdy wood and slanted to allow rain to run off. There were four windows, two on the wall by the door, one on the outside window and one on the back wall over the desk, framed by shelving. The fourth wall wasn’t made of wood. It was made of rock.

‘It must be partially built into the mountain,’ Jeongin noted as he stared. The bedroom area was almost entirely encased in rock. It was unlike anything Jeongin had ever seen. It was an extremely clever idea as well. Using a cave as part of your dwelling. If only he had known to do so.

On the other side of the stone hearth was a large wooden cabinet with doors and shelves stocked full of cheeses, sealed bottles, breads, small bowls with salts and other spices. Hanging from an iron circle suspended from the ceiling were various dried herbs and even some small game. Rabbits and birds mostly. He inspected the mantle and noticed a couple portraits and a small trinket box.

He moved over to the desk, fingers brushing over the papers on the surface as he inspected them. There were a lot of maps. Maps he didn’t recognize, not that he was knowledgeable of maps to begin with. He looked up at the shelving, inspecting the books and their titles. He expected to see this sizable collection in a palace or something, not here in a cabin in the forest, built into the base of a mountain.

Jeongin turned as he heard the door open and you returned with two clean bowls and spoons.

“Having fun snooping?” you asked with a smirk. Jeongin opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water trying to explain but you shook your head. “I saw you through the window,” you explained, pointing to the window opposite the rock wall.

“I’m not mad,” you continued. “But I really do need to inspect your wounds.”

You led him over to the bed and he sat down. “I don’t have any wounds,” he protested but you made him lie down and lifted his shirt. “Your wounds are internal,” you explained as you gently prodded and massaged his side, making him wince. “You’ve got a fair amount of bruising here and here,” you said, also placing your hand over his stomach just over his navel.

“Were you in a fight?” you asked bluntly. Jeongin froze, staring up at the rocky ceiling above. You waited for his answer but when he didn’t answer, you spoke again. “Did you at least get a few punches in?”

Jeongin chuckled, letting out a soft cry when the motion caused his sore muscles to tense him. “You’re asking me about my fight?” he asked. You nodded. “Whoever did this packs a wallop. So I hope you got a few licks in, too.”

Jeongin smiled as you rubbed some kind of ointment and the soreness and tenseness in his muscles dissipated. “You’ll have to apply this until the bruising clears up,” you explained as you rubbed some more on his stomach.

Jeongin held his breath as your hand traveled dangerously close to his waistband. “Two times a day,” you added as you pulled your hand back, wiping it on a cloth and placing the lid back on the small metal tin and handed it to him. Jeongin sat up and took the tin from you. “What is it?” he asked.

“An ointment to help with soreness and bruising,” you explained as you gathered your supplies and set the basket aside. “I made it myself.” Jeongin opened the tin and held it up to his nose, sniffing it. He smelled mint but couldn’t tell what else was in it.

“What’s in it?” he asked, placing the lid back on it and looking up at you.

“Just some herbs,” you replied. “I’ll tell you how I made it tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

You got up and paused when he grabbed your wrist. Looking down at his wrist and then up to meet his gaze, Jeongin managed to blurt out “thank you.” The smile you gave him was one he’d never seen before, not even from the old woman in the village he traded furs for shirts or her granddaughter, Haneul.

“You’re welcome,” you answered and Jeongin let go of your wrist. “What about you?” he asked as you moved over to the desk. “I can sleep on the floor,” you said as Jeongin set the tin of ointment on a small table beside the bed. “What?” he said suddenly. “No,” he continued. “This is your bed. I’ll sleep--”

He didn’t get to finish his words as you turned in your chair and waved your hand at him. “Sleep,” you said sternly and Jeongin passed out, unable to fight the darkness as it passed over him, taking him deep into slumber.

The next morning, Jeongin awoke to find himself in bed but the cabin otherwise empty. He sat up, looking around and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Lifting his shirt, he saw that he indeed had some heavy bruising from Baek-hwa and his friends’ punches.

He dropped his shirt as the door opened and you entered the room, smiling when you saw he was awake. “Morning,” you said as you carried something in your arms. “Or should I say good day,” you continued as you carried the sack over to the table and set it down.

“Let’s have a look at those bruises,” you said as you walked over and took a seat beside him. Jeongin lifted his shirt for you to inspect. “Make sure to apply that ointment,” you said as you gently poked around the edges of the bruising. “It’ll make a huge difference in healing.”

You got back up and headed for the table as Jeongin picked up the tin and opened it. He scooped a small amount and started to rub it into his skin as you opened the sack. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, looking up occasionally as he applied the ointment.

“I went hunting,” you said nonchalantly. Jeongin looked up at the rabbits hanging from the ceiling. “What about those?” he asked, nodding towards the rabbits. “They’re small and we need more meat if you’re going to heal properly. Protein speeds up the healing process,” you explained as you pulled small game from the sack.

Jeongin finished applying the ointment and wiped his hand off on the same cloth you used the night before and got up, walking over to the table. He was surprised to see what you managed to catch. “Hunting and fishing?” he asked as he noticed the fish basket.

“I’ve been gone all morning,” you replied. “Up before the sun, in bed after it sets,” you explained. “Making the most out of every day. That’s what Clover taught me.” Jeongin smiled as you added the rabbits to the iron circle. “The fish has to go outside,” you explained and picked up the basket.

He followed you as you headed outside and over to a wooden rack where you had some fish already hanging. “How does fish tonight sound?” you asked, turning to look at him. Jeongin nodded silently before you turned back to the rack and hung up all the fish.

“I also need to go foraging,” you said as you walked back towards him, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading into the cabin. “Want to come with me?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded. “Sure,” Jeongin said, stepping aside as you entered the cabin.

“Good,” you said and grabbed a sack. “Make yourself useful,” you added as you tossed one to him.

The hike to the spot was a short one and Jeongin was shocked to see the size of it. Not only were there even more berries than at his favorite spot but there were more types as well as all kinds of fungi. He watched as you pulled a small bag from your pocket and moved over to one of the mushrooms.

“These are really good when you fry them,” you explained as you picked them and placed them in the bag. “They’ll need to soak for a few hours but we can have them with our fish.”

Jeongin looked around and moved to one of the bushes. “Are these okay?” he asked, pointing to the berries. You turned to look at him and nodded. “Not too many though,” you instructed. “Maybe a sack,” you added. “There are smaller bags in the large sack I gave you.”

Jeongin dug through the bag and found one before starting to pick berries and fill the bag. Once it was full, he tied it off and picked a few berries to eat. “And those?” he asked, pointing to another bush. You nodded without looking. “All these berries are good to eat,” you replied. “Just a small bag each. I like to make wine with them,” you explained.

Jeongin got to work, collecting berries as you foraged for mushrooms and other plants. When the bags were full, Jeongin insisted on carrying both but you refused, reminding him he was still healing. The walk back, you asked him about his life, where he was from, where he grew up, what his childhood was like.

When you broached the subject of parents, Jeongin shut down as you walked up the path to the cabin. “Touchy subject?” you asked, unlocking the door and letting him in. Jeongin nodded, handing you the bag and watching as you moved to the cabinets. “I lost both my parents,” he finally answered.

“My mother left when I was young and my father died when I was fifteen. I’ve been on my own ever since,” he explained as you started to store the food you both collected together. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I lost my parents to disease when I was young. I was raised by Clover,” you explained, shutting the cabinet doors.

“The fox?” Jeongin asked, making you chuckle. “He’s a wizard,” you reminded him. “He was in fox form while we hunted that day. He’s awfully quiet in that form,” you explained. Jeongin grimaced as you turned to him, setting the bags of berries on the table.

“So he raised you?” he asked and you nodded. “Taught me everything I know. Built this cabin and left it to me when I came of age.” Jeongin looked around. “Makes sense,” he said softly. “I’ve never seen a cabin like this before,” he explained. “That’s because it was built with magic.”

Jeongin smiled as you set the empty bags away, hanging them on hooks.

“I have some work to do in the garden,” you announced. “Would you like to join me?” Jeongin nodded with a smile.

“I’d love to.”

After a quick lunch of leftover stew, Jeongin helped you in the garden, pulling weeds and pruning the bushes and vines. His garden was small but this garden was twice the size. It had everything from cabbages to potatoes and even pumpkins.

“This is a huge garden,” he noted as he dropped another cabbage in the basket. “Even for two people.” you nodded as you pruned a tomato plant. “I sell whatever I don’t need,” you explained. “Never hurts to have a little extra coin,” you added with a wink.

As the two of you finished up, Jeongin looked at you. “Where do you sell this stuff?” he asked as you gathered one of the baskets. “At a village on the other side of the mountain,” you replied. Jeongin rounded on you, holding the other basket. “On the other side of the mountain?” he asked incredulously. You nodded with a laugh and beckoned him to follow you inside.

Once inside, you stored your harvests away and led Jeongin over to the desk and pulled out a map from under the stacks of paper. “This is a map of this region,” you explained. Jeongin looked over it in awe. He’d never seen more than a map of the village and the forest. Your map had so much more on it.

And it was so detailed.

“Here’s the village you told me about and based on your descriptions, your cabin was around in this area,” you explained, pointing out spaces on the map. “Here’s where we are,” you continued, pointing at a small red x on the map. “The village I sell at is here,” you added, pointing to a black x on the other side of the mountain range.

“How long does it take to get there?” Jeongin asked, looking up at you. “Well, if you go around the mountains, it can take months,” you answered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “But I use the mountain pass so it only takes a few days,” you added, pointing to two lines drawn over the mountain range connecting the two sides. “Who made this map?” Jeongin asked in amazement.

“Clover,” you answered, standing up straight. Jeongin followed your movements, standing upright as you walked over to the hearth and added a couple logs to the dying flames. “He makes maps of all the regions,” you added. “He’s a traveling wizard and cartographer,” you added as Jeongin stared at you.

“He stopped for a while to raise me here,” you explained as you stood up, brushing your hands off. “But now that I can care for myself, he’s back to traveling again, making amendments to his maps.” Jeongin shook his head as you moved over to the bedroom area, grabbing a small basket from the shelf.

Jeongin looked around the cabin. “So, now what?” he asked as you sat down on the armchair. You looked up at him. “Now we rest,” you replied with a smile. “It’s too soon to have dinner and I have some knitting to get done,” you continued, pulling out a project you must have been working on for a while.

“You can read any of the books if you’d like,” you said, nodding towards the shelves. Jeongin shook his head, instead grabbing one of his bags and opening it. He sifted through it until he found what he was looking for. The journal he’d been reading. He settled down on the bed, propping the pillows up against the wall so he could sit up against them.

Jeongin read as much as he could, absorbing his mothers words. He had reached the part of her journals where she had met his father and it was so enchanting to read about his father through his mother’s eyes. He discovered a new side to his father he’d never known. The romantic side.

Their courtship was long according to her and she initially rebuffed him as he was a human but he eventually gained her trust and she warmed up to him. After which, they got married, something Jeongin had never known. He thought it had been a short affair but the time and effort they put into their marriage told him otherwise.

He also learned that his parents had a hard time conceiving a child and that Jeongin was from their sixth attempt. He was the only one that made it full term.

Jeongin dropped his hands into his lap, the journal falling with it as he stared at the wall. You looked up at him. “You alright?” you asked, noticing he seemed catatonic. When he didn’t respond, you set your knitting aside and got up, moving to sit on the bed. “Jeongin?” you asked, waving your hand in front of him. That seemed to snap him out of it and he looked at you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. He nodded, clearing his throat and looked down at the leatherbound book in his lap. “Yeah, I just uh…” he trailed off before looking back up but not at you. He seemed to be looking past you but not at anything in particular. More like he was staring off into a place you could not see. “Jeongin?”

“I have siblings…” he finally said softly and your brows rose in shock. “What?” you asked.

He turned his head to look at you. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Random thought.”

You glanced at the book. “What are you reading?” you asked. Jeongin glanced at the book and closed it, keeping his thumb between the pages. “It’s private,” he explained. “Sorry,” he added. You shook your head. “No need to apologize,” you replied. “I meant no disrespect nor was I meaning to pry. Simply curious,” you explained.

Jeongin glanced down at the book again before taking a deep breath. “It’s a journal,” he finally sighed. You waited for him to continue. “It’s my mother’s journal,” he clarified. Your eyes widened. “Oh,” you said softly, uncertain of what else to say. “And you’re just now reading it? I’m not judging by the way,” you said quickly. Jeongin simply chuckled before setting the book aside and scooting off the bed.

You watched as he grabbed one of his bags and walked over, opening it for you to see the contents. Inside were a dozen or so leather bound books, all of them identical. You looked up at Jeongin in bewilderment as he set the bag down and joined you on the bed.

“My mother kept extensive journals all throughout her life. She left them with my dad when she left,” he explained. “Dad kept them for me so I could get to know her if she never came back. I think he knew she wouldn’t come back,” he continued sadly. “I’ve been reading them since my dad taught me to read.”

You looked back at the bag. “How many are there?” you asked, looking back at Jeongin. “Around fifty,” he answered, a hand reaching up to scratch his brow. “I’ve read about twenty of them so far.” Your eyes widened as you looked back at the sack lying unassuming on the floor.

“What’s in this one?” you asked, tapping the cover of the one on the bed before you froze. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “That’s none of my business,” you continued. Jeongin shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, grabbing the book and opening it. “In this one, she met my dad,” he explained.

“She details their courtship and marriage,” he continued, flipping through the pages. “She wrote that it was a huge ceremony and that the reception lasted well into the early hours of the next morning and that they were both so exhausted from the party that they never actually consummated their marriage during the ceremony,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled fondly, watching him look over the words on the page.

“What was your mother’s name?” you asked, drawing his attention. “Well, dad never told me her real name. He knew her as Eun-soo but while she was in Japan, her name was Yuki. So I’m not entirely sure what she was really called,” he continued.

You looked at him again, studying his features. The fox-like eyes, the orange irises, his blond hair. It suddenly made sense to you. He was like you. He was fox-folk.

“Was your mother a kumiho by any chance?”

Jeongin was caught off guard by the question. He’d never been asked so directly about it before and as he looked up, his eyes met your golden ones and he knew instantly why you were asking. It was like a switch went off in his head and suddenly everything made sense.

Your golden eyes, the magic, being raised by a wizard. Well, maybe the last part wasn’t really all that related but in his mind, it still helped him to put the pieces together. You were like him, too. You were fox-folk.

“A…are you?” he asked softly, holding your gaze. He could tell by the way your eyes widened slightly that he was on the right track. “Or was one of your parents?” he continued, setting the journal aside. You nodded slowly. “Both of my parents were fox-folk,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin leaned forward. “Both?” he asked in amazement. You nodded, shifting to face him. “Yeah,” you replied. “That’s amazing,” he breathed. “So you’re pureblooded?” he asked, to which you nodded. “Wow. I’m only half,” he replied. “Probably why I can’t do any magic,” he added with a chuckle.

You tilted your head at his comment. “All fox-folk can perform magic,” you said, drawing his attention again. “Wait, really?” he asked. You nodded, grabbing the journal from his hands and setting it aside. “Have you ever tried?” you asked. Jeongin shook his head no, watching as you pushed your sleeves up.

“It’s easy,” you explained. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Oh sure,” he retorted but you pushed him gently. “I promise it is,” you replied. “It’s so simple, really. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Jeongin watched as you scooted onto the bed beside him, crossing your legs and resting your back against the wall. You closed your eyes, adopting a sort of meditation position. Jeongin watched but when you opened one eye to peek at him, you nudged him and he sighed, adopting the same position.

“Deep breath in,” you said. Jeongin followed your lead, breathing in slowly and deeply, filling his lungs. “And out,” you said and the two of you breathed out in unison. “Now, visualize a fire,” you said softly. “A fire? Why a fire?” Jeongin asked. “Ow,” he whined when you lightly slapped his hand.

“Okay, okay. A fire. Got it,” he said. “Wait, what color is it?”

“Whatever color you want it to be.”

Jeongin closed his eyes again, picturing a fire in his mind. Something bright and pink. “Now, imagine how it feels. Is it hot? Is it cold? Does it burn or does it tickle? Does it smell pleasant or is it rancid?” Jeongin imagined the fire was cool to the touch and it felt like the fluttering of wings. It had no smell.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what?” he asked, opening an eye. “Hold your hand out,” you instructed. Jeongin closed his one eye again and raised one of his hands. “Place it in my hand,” you continued and he did as you said, placing his hand in yours, palm up.

“Now imagine your fire and imagine it’s in your hand. Concentrate and picture your fire in your hand.”

Jeongin focused all his energy, holding his breath as he pictured the pink, cool, fire that fluttered. “Don’t forget to breathe evenly,” you reminded him. “Breathing is important.” He resumed breathing as he focused all his mental strength on the fire. He sighed, keeping his eyes closed.

“This is dumb,” he said. “I can’t do magic.”

“Is your fire pink and cool to the touch?” you asked softly and Jeongin hesitated. ‘Wait… is mind reading one of the abilities of a full-blooded kumiho?’ he wondered. “Uh, yeah. But how did you know that?” he asked. “Open your eyes, Jeongin.”

He did as you instructed and was met with your face drenched in the pink glow of a fire in his hand. The pink fire he’d imagined. He looked back up at you and then down to the fire in his hand. It was dancing, fluttering against his hand. “Are you doing that?” he asked and you pulled your hand away, conjuring up a bright blue flame. “I take it that’s a no?”

You laughed and the fires both extinguished as Jeongin lost focus. “I told you that you can do magic!” you said excitedly, slapping his knee and then pushing yourself up and climbing off the bed. Jeongin looked down at his hand, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

“I’ll get dinner started,” you said as you moved towards the door. “Keep practicing,” you said before opening the door and heading outside. Jeongin kept at it, conjuring a pink flame, making it dance and crawl around his hand as you prepared the fish for dinner. While it cooked, you made a side dish with rice and some of the mushrooms you’d picked earlier.

When it was ready, Jeongin joined you at the table and the two of you ate in silence. “Thank you, Jeongin said suddenly, making you look up, eyes wide and bewilderment on your face. “For taking me in after you bashed my head in,” Jeongin continued. “For caring for me and teaching me magic.”

Your expression morphed, a smile spreading across your face. “I couldn’t leave you out there after I hit you with the branch,” you explained. “Clover would have but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I left you to the elements. And besides,” you continued. “It’s nice having some company that isn’t Clover for once.”

Jeongin looked down at his food, cheeks growing warm.

“You know,” you said, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “If you want to stay longer, you’re more than welcome to,” you added. “I really enjoy your company.” Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. You nodded, smiling at him. “But you might have to get used to sharing a bed,” you said. “There’s not enough room in here for another bed and I refuse to let you sleep on the floor,” you added.

Jeongin’s cheeks grew even warmer at the thought of sharing a bed with you but he played it off.

“Sure,” he said softly. “No problem.”

It was indeed a problem he later discovered. While the bed was big enough for two bodies, it wasn’t big enough for two bodies and a space between them. Jeongin wanted to respect you and give you as much space as possible but with the size of the bed, it put him right on the edge of the mattress and in danger of falling off.

The next day consisted of about the same routine, some foraging but in a different spot. You taught Jeongin all about the herbs and weeds you used to make ointments and medicines, showing him what cured certain ailments. Afterwards, he helped you on the other side of the garden where the bee boxes were and held the jars for the honey while you handled the bees.

The day after that, you took him fishing with you and he was impressed by the spot you had. No one else was around and as you sailed out on the lake in a boat you proudly told him you helped Clover make, the two of you sat in silence, rods propped up while you knitted and Jeongin read more of his mother’s journal.

He’d made it to the part where she was pregnant with him and close to her due date. She wrote how she knew he was a boy and how she knew he was going to take after her in both looks and mentality. Jeongin checked his fishing rod before returning to his reading. He heard you clear your throat and looked up to meet your gaze.

“So what else does she say?” you asked, nodding towards the journal in his hand. “Oh,” he said softly. “She’s pregnant with me in this part,” he explained. “She wrote about how she knew I was a boy and that I would take after her,” he continued. You smiled at him as you tied off and wove the yarn tails into the scarf you were making. “She also says she got a letter from a woman named… Anitta?” he said and looked up at you.

You merely shrugged and set your knitting needles aside, picking up the scarf and throwing it around his neck. “There,” you said with a smile. “It’s done.” Jeongin’s cheeks burned as he looked down at the soft garment. “It’s nice,” he said softly and started to take it off. “It’s yours,” you said, grabbing it and wrapping it back around his neck.

“I was going to give it to Clover but I figured I can always make him another and you need one now so,” you trailed off, smiling at him. Jeongin toyed with the material, cheeks burning as he tried to think of something to say before finally settling on a simple and soft thank you.

Fishing ended with the two of you catching a small basket of fish and Jeongin managing to catch a little crawfish which he promptly dumped back in the water. Once the boat was pulled ashore, the two of you headed back down from the mountain lake to the cottage to hang up the fish and settle in for the night.

You made roasted rabbit and potatoes and after dinner, you settled down with your knitting to start another scarf for Clover while Jeongin got to the end of his mother’s journal. He closed it, wrapping the twine back around it and got up from the bed, moving over to his bags.

He reached in for another, pulling the trinket box out so he could dig for the right one.

“What’s that?” you asked, looking down at the box. “Oh, just a box my dad made,” Jeongin said as he dug through the bag. “May I?” you asked, setting your things aside. “I’m kind of nosey,” you noted with a laugh. Jeongin chuckled and shook his head. “Go ahead,” he replied.

You grabbed the box and set it on your lap, opening and inspecting the contents.

The box was a beautiful dark wood with a soft lining. It was beautifully crafted and you wondered if Jeongin’s dad knew how much he could have made by making and selling these boxes. Inside the box were a few items, some of great value and others you suspected were more sentimental. There was a silver ring, a loose but rather large gem, some gold coins, and a silver locket. You picked up the stone to inspect and deduced it was a sapphire and was definitely worth a lot.

“This could fetch you a lot of gold,” you noted, holding up the stone for Jeongin to see as he looked up. “Dad found that,” he said, reaching up to rub his eye. “Found it while digging around the outside of our cabin to add to the garden when I was a kid,” he continued and held out his hand.

You placed the gem in his palm and he brought it to his face to look at it. “He thought the same thing,” he continued. “Thought we could sell it for some gold in case we ever needed it. I forgot it was in the box,” he added, handing it back to you to place in the box.

Next you picked up the silver ring. There was nothing of note about it. It was a crudely forged ring made of pure silver. “Oh,” Jeongin said, noticing the ring and grimacing. “Dad made that. Was trying his hand at smithing,” he added. “It’s ugly but he was proud of it. He made it himself without any help. He wasn’t much of a blacksmith. He was more of a carpenter,” he explained.

“Which is why the box is so nice,” he added, gesturing to the box in your lap.

You dropped the ring back into the box and Jeongin returned to his bag, digging for a specific journal as you lifted the silver locket. It was engraved with a simple fox head on both sides. You carefully opened it and smiled at the first portrait. It was of a young child with light hair. There was no mistaking this was Jeongin.

You turned the locket to look at the other portrait as Jeongin pulled the correct journal from his bag and his eyes fell on the locket in your hand. The other portrait was of a woman. An all too familiar woman. She had the same blonde hair Jeongin had, the same fox-like eyes. It was his mother.

“Oh, that’s,” Jeongin darted forward, his hand closing around the locket and closing it before he took it from your hand. “That’s my dad’s. Was my dad’s.” he said softly, looking at the silver locket. You shut the trinket box and handed it back to him. “Sorry for prying,” you said softly as he took the box.

“No, it’s okay,” he said as he brushed the silver surface with the pad of his thumb. “I honestly forgot this was even in there,” he added as he looked up and gave you a sad smile. “She’s very pretty,” you said softly, drawing his attention. “Your mother,” you clarified.

You tilted your head, offering him a playful smile. “I guess you’re pretty, too,” you added, noticing the way he averted his eyes and his cheeks turned peach. He opened the box and placed the locket back inside, closing the lid and setting back with his things.

After he read a bit more and you started to yawn, you called it and set your knitting aside. “It’s going to storm tonight,” you said softly as you got up. “I’m going to put the covers down on the windows so it doesn’t rain in.” Jeongin watched as you exited the door and returned to his book as you disappeared.

Outside you undid the hooks holding the covers up and let them down into place, securing them with the wooden rods that slid through two rings on the side of the cabin as well as a ring on the end of the shutter.

Clover had done some interesting things when building this cabin but as odd as they were, they worked. You placed the covers for the other three windows down, locking them in place as the wind picked up.

You also grabbed the cloth Clover had for covering the garden and hooked it in place with the four hooked stakes in the corners of the garden. You repeated the process, covering the bee boxes before gathering all the fish and bringing it inside to hang up by the fire.

As you closed and locked the door, you could hear thunder in the distance and Jeongin looked up from his mother’s journal. “We’re safe here, right?” he asked and you nodded, moving to stoke the fire and then joining him on the bed. “This is probably the most stable building in the region,” you explained as you settled down on the side of the bed you’d claimed and looked up at him.

“You can stay up if you want,” you said, shifting, pulling the covers over you, and getting comfortable. “Just try to keep the noise down,” you added with a wink which made Jeongin crack a smile. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll try.”

You shut your eyes and tried to focus on sleeping.

But you couldn’t. Your mind was full of the portrait in the locket. You rolled onto your back and sighed, opening your eyes and staring at the cave ceiling. Jeongin didn’t seem to notice but when you sighed again, he looked up. “You alright?” he asked and you took a deep breath before sitting up and turning to him. “I need to tell you something,” you said, taking his journal and setting it aside.

Jeongin looked from the journal to you as you took his hands in yours.

“What I’m about to tell you might sound outrageous but keep in mind I’m much older than I look because as you said before, I’m pureblooded fox-folk.,” you started. Jeongin met your gaze and nodded slowly. You took another deep breath before explaining.

“Your mother’s name was Keiko. She was from a small island off the coast of Japan. The locals there called it Fox Island. She came to this land as a child with her mother to live in the palace of the king centuries ago. Her mother was a highly sought after healer and the king’s wife was incredibly sick.”

Jeongin said nothing as you continued.

“When your mother was nearing maturity, her mother overheard a plan to marry her off to the king’s son but her mother had heard that the first prince was a cruel man who abused those around him. She did not want your mother to suffer at his hands so she ran away, taking your mother with her. They left the palace and ran and ran until they reached the coast, hoping it would be far enough away that the king’s men would never find them.”

You cleared your throat and continued the story.

“Your mother continued to live on the coast, in a small fishing village for many many years and eventually, she grew into a great beauty. Many men tried in vain to marry her but her mother drove them all off. When her mother finally passed from old age, your mother left the village and traveled inward, hoping enough time had passed that the king was no longer looking for her and she was right.”

“The king and his son had both since passed and a new ruler was on the throne. Your mother traveled the land until she found this region and moved here, settling down in a cave in the mountains. Rumors circulated of a great beauty that lived in the mountains but some of those rumors painted her out to be an enchantress that devoured the souls of men. It was here my mother met her,” you explained, watching Jeongin’s eyes widened but he said nothing, allowing you to continue.

“Your mother and my mother became good friends and then… I came along and I can remember how your mother doted on me. She wanted a child of her own but she had no luck in finding a husband. It was when she’d given up hope of ever having a child that she met your father. I was a young child by then but I still remember the day she came to us, announcing she had found someone,” you said with a smile, remembering back to that day.

“My mother and father were so thrilled she’d managed to find someone who loved her. Someone she could start a life with. She wrote to my mother, telling her of the ceremony and the time after. She shared her troubles conceiving with my mother in those letters. And then, she got pregnant. And it lasted,” you said softly, looking up from your hands to find Jeongin’s eyes filled with tears.

“She gave birth to a healthy baby boy and she named him Jeongin. She wrote how she was so in love and she’d never known a love like that before. The love of a mother. She loved you so much,” you said softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. This pushed him over the edge and a small sob escaped him, the tears finally falling. You pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Why did she leave?” he whispered into your shoulder. “She had to,” you explained, gently stroking his hair. “The people in the village branded her a witch and she feared if she did not leave, they would come for her. So she left you with your father and she went north,” you continued. “I’m sure it was her intention to come back but I don’t know much else,” you added.

You continued to stroke his hair, rocking him gently as he sniffled. “Sorry I got snot on your shirt,” he said softly. You chuckled, patting his head. “It’s okay,” you replied. “I’ve had worse things on my shirt before,” you added as you pushed him back, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I just needed to tell you because if I didn’t, it would eat me alive.”

You pulled him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You deserved to know the truth about her. She was a remarkable kumiho. I really looked up to her,” you added. Jeongin smiled, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “And who knows,” you said suddenly.

“Maybe she left some clues in her journals as to where she went.” Jeongin looked down at the journal and then back up at you.

“Then I better get to reading, I guess.”

After the talk, it must not have taken you long to fall asleep because you were woken by the sound of thunder.

Your eyes opened and you noticed that it was mostly dark, save for the fire in the hearth. You peered over your shoulder to find Jeongin had finished his reading and gone to sleep as well. You lay back down, closing your eyes but another clap of thunder sounded and the rain whipping against the side of the rain made you realize what had actually woken you and it wasn’t the storm.

It was the way Jeongin shook each time the thunder clapped or the shutters rattled against the windows.

He’d told you how his home was battered by storms and he wasn’t able to keep up with repairs as he wasn’t a carpenter like his father. He said he’d grown accustomed to the fear that at any moment, the entire hut would collapse, trapping him inside.

‘He’s probably terrified out of his mind right now,’ you told yourself.

You turned over, eyes finding Jeongin curled up in the dark beside you. Sitting up, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” you asked softly over the sound of the rain battering against the roof. Jeongin rolled back to look up at you. “Sorry,” he said just as softly. “It’s just the storm…” he trailed off.

“I have… bad memories.”

Your expression softened as you pulled the covers back and gently grabbed his arm. “Come here,” you whispered, tugging him towards you. Jeongin followed, allowing you to pull him into your space where your arms went around him protectively, his head ducking under your chin and into your chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

You gently stroked his hair, humming softly as you tried to drown out the sounds of the storm. Your humming turned into singing, trying to lull him to sleep. “What is that?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth of your night shirt. “It’s a song my mother used to sing to me,” you replied, continuing to stroke his hair. “It sounds familiar,” he continued.

You nodded silently before speaking. “Your mother probably used to sing it to you when you were a babe,” you answered. “Most fox-folk know the song.”

Jeongin fell silent, tightening his hold on you as he nuzzled further into your warm embrace.

“Do you feel better?” you asked softly, smiling when he nodded. “Good,” you whispered, tilting your head to press a kiss to the top of his head. Jeongin pulled back to look up at you. Neither one of you said anything, staring at one another until he finally made the first move, closing the distance and pressing his lips against yours.

Almost as quickly as it happened, he pulled back, stuttering apologies and trying to explain himself. You cut his words off, taking his face in both your hands and pulling back in for another kiss. He relaxed under your touch, lips pressing more firmly against yours as he leaned into the kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” you said when you pulled back. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Jeongin pulled you back in for another kiss, more hurried and rushed this time. You didn’t fight it when he pushed onto your back or when he climbed over you, never breaking the kiss as he settled between your parted thighs.

You sighed against his lips, almost moaning when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth. He moved his hands, sliding them up to your cheeks and pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes looking between yours. “For what?” you whispered, placing one of your hands atop his.

“For saving me,” he continued, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I now know it was you that killed those guys following me.” You stared up at him. “I’ve had time to think about it and it makes sense,” he added.

“So thank you for taking me in and for protecting me.”

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down into another kiss. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured between kisses. “I’m sure you would have done the same in my position,” you added. Jeongin shook his head. “I’m shy and antisocial,” he replied. “I wouldn’t have gotten involved.” You pushed him back slightly so you could see his face.

“You’re not antisocial,” you countered. “You were tormented and abused. There’s a difference.”

Before Jeongin could say anything else, you interrupted with another kiss.

You rolled over, pinning him against the bed as you straddled him, directing his hands to your waist as you continued to kiss him. You felt him tense under you as you rolled your hips, grinding against the growing bulge in his pants. You pulled back to look at him, noticing the look of hesitation on his face.

“Was that too far?” you asked, fearing you may have crossed a line and moved to climb off him but his hold on your waist tightened. “No,” he croaked. “It’s just that…” his voice trailed off as he swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve never… I’m a…” he was failing to form a complete sentence but you knew what he was saying.

You cupped his cheek tenderly. “You’ve never done this, have you?”

He shook his head and you smiled warmly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Do you want to stop?” you asked and watched as he contemplated it. Just when you thought he was going to say yes, he surprised you by shaking his head. “No,” he finally answered.

“Don’t stop.”

You pressed your lips against his, taking the lead. Your hips rolled slowly, grinding against him, eliciting the sweetest moans you’d ever heard come from a man before. “You sound so sweet,” you whispered, lips brushing against his cheek as you moved to whisper in his ear. “So innocent,” you continued, kissing down the side of his neck.

Jeongin let out a moan as you nipped at his neck, smiling before pulling back to look down at him. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked, slowing your movements, enjoying the desperate way Jeongin whined and pulled at your hips, urging you to move.

“Y-yes,” he whimpered. “Keep going, please,” he begged. Instead of doing so, you climbed off him, ignoring his protests and pleas as you tore the blankets back. “What are you doing?” Jeongin asked as you nestled beside him. “Just trust me,” you said softly, reaching to turn his head towards you, pulling him into a kiss.

With the distraction of your lips against his and your tongue slipping into his mouth, Jeongin didn’t notice the way your hand moved down his chest, slowly until he felt your palm against the bulge in his pants. Moaning into your mouth, one of his hands moved to grab yours but you pushed it away.

“Are you going to be a good boy or will I have to restrain you?” you asked darkly. Jeongin let out a little whimper and shook his head. “You won’t be good?” you asked, cocking your brow. He shook his head again. “I’ll be good,” he blurted out and you pulled him back in for another kiss, letting your hand wander again.

This time, he didn’t move, only moaning as you started to palm him through his trousers. Considering how hard he already was, it didn’t take you long to get him begging and whining for more, his hips bucking up against your hand.

You made quick work of his pants, untying the string and sliding your hand under the waistband, your palm coming into contact with the hot skin of his dick. Jeongin let out a soft whimper as your fingers wrapped around him. “Have you never been touched like this before?” you asked, watching his face as he shook his head.

“Not even by yourself?” you asked, tilting your head. He hesitated before nodding. “I’ve…” he swallowed thickly. “I’ve touched myself a few times,” he answered. Your smile grew slightly. “Do you want more?” you asked, watching the way his brow furrowed as you stroked him at an even pace.

“P-please,” he murmured, hips bucking into your hand. You removed your hand from his pants, moving and pulling his pants down, throwing them to the floor before climbing over and straddling his hips. Jeongin looked up at you as you leaned over. “Do you want to stop yet?” you whispered, your smirk growing even more when he shook his head.

You toyed with the hem of your night shirt, watching the way his eyes flickered from your face to your hands and back up. Finally, you decided to not tease him any more and lifted the material up over your head, dropping it to the floor and allowing him a moment to adjust to your nakedness.

His eyes were all over your form, taking in every inch of exposed skin. You took his hands and guided him to your waist. “You can touch me, you know,” you said softly, snapping him out of his trance. “O-okay,” he answered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the storm.

“Wait, I can?” he asked as if just registering what you’d said. You nodded instead of replying verbally and waited patiently as his hands moved of their own accord. His eyes followed the movement of his hands up to your chest, hesitating before cupping both your breasts.

His lips parted in awe as he gave a gentle squeeze.

He’d never done anything like this before. He had no idea what was allowed and what wasn’t or what felt good for you. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up to meet your gaze. You nodded, reaching one hand up to place over his, pushing his palm against your chest more firmly.

Jeongin groaned at the contact, eyes flickering back down to your chest. Without a word, he sat up, his hand under yours moving aside. You pulled your hand back as he leaned in, glancing up at you for permission which you gave in the form of a nod. His eyes fluttered shut as he took your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud.

You let out a sigh, combing your fingers through his hair as his tongue flicked against your skin. You arched your back, pressing your chest into his face as he gently sucked, letting your nipple fall from his mouth before repeating the same process on the other breast, one of his hands moving up to cup your chest. His other hand moved around to your back, hovering just above your ass.

You rolled your hips, brushing your sex against his cock and making him gasp. Your fingers in his hair tugged, tilting his head back to look up at you as you rolled your hips again. “How does that feel, sweetheart?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

“S’good,” he moaned, his hands grabbing your hips, trying to guide your movements but feeling unsure of what he was doing. “You want me to ride you, little fox?” you whispered, leaning in so your lips brushed against his. He gulped loudly. “Y-yes,” he pleaded. “I wanna feel you.”

You took him in a messy kiss, tongue dancing against his. “You wanna feel me? Feel me from the inside?” He nodded quickly, eyes sliding shut as you rocked your hips, grinding against his cock, coating it with your arousal.

“Wanna fill me with your cock?” you purred. Jeongin let out a choked moan as you ground harder against him. “Fuck! Y-yes, please!” he whimpered.

You reached down to grab the bottom of his shirt, tugging it off him and letting it fall to the floor as well before placing your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress. You allowed your eyes to scan his body, taking in his lean frame as you lifted your hips.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” you asked as you reached between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand and giving him a couple of strokes, coating all of his cock with your slick. He nodded urgently, biting into his bottom lip. “I need to hear you say it, Innie,” you cooed, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance. He nodded again. “Yes,” he finally managed to croak out.

“I promise I’ll be good.”

Without another word, you sank down on him, his cock gliding easily as your walls welcomed the intrusion. Jeongin let out a long groan as you enveloped him completely with a sigh. You felt him twitch inside you and you leaned over, placing your hands on the mattress on either side of his head.

“You promised you’d be good,” you said, meeting his gaze. He nodded, blinking slowly as his hands moved to your thighs. “I promise,” he whispered. “Then you can’t cum yet,” you replied, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “You have to wait until I say you can cum,” you continued. “Can you do that for me, baby boy?” He nodded again. “Yes, I c-can,” he answered.

You slowly raised your hips before sinking back down on him, his cock burying into your cunt. Jeongin moaned against your lips, fingers digging into your skin. “Feels s’good,” he muttered as you set a slow, steady pace, hips rising and falling, driving his cock repeatedly into your pussy.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, leaning over to kiss along his jaw, making him tilt his head, giving you more access to his neck. “Letting me fuck you like you deserve.” Jeongin whined in response, his hands moving up to your waist. “Mmore, please,” he begged, gasping when you obliged, your hips bouncing against his. “Shit, shit,” he gasped, fingers tightening around your waist.

“Wait, m’close!” he warned. You immediately stilled, his length buried in your walls. You raised your hand to push his bangs back from his forehead, leaning over to press a kiss against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praised as he came down from the edge.

“Filling me so well. Such a good little fox.”

Jeongin whimpered as you rolled your hips. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked sweetly. He shook his head. “Give me a moment more,” he murmured. You sat up, moving your hands to his chest, sliding them down to his stomach and back up past his shoulders and onto the mattress.

“Do you want me to stay on top of do you wanna take control, little fox?”

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. “I can take control?” he asked softly. You nodded. “You want to try that?” He nodded hesitantly, hissing as his cock slipped out of you.

You pulled him on top as you laid back, your thighs wrapping around his waist. He looked down at you, cheeks burning as he took in your fucked out expression. “Go ahead,” you urged.

Jeongin looked down, eyes widening slightly as they landed on your glistening sex. “It’s okay,” you added, drawing his attention. “Take your time.” Jeongin took himself in his hand, guiding the tip to your slit, watching as the head of his cock slipped past your folds, finding your center easily.

He groaned, watching as your walls sucked him in until his hips met yours. His eyes moved up, meeting yours as he tried to control his breathing. “I don’t…” he trailed off. “Just follow your instincts,” you said gently. He nodded, taking a deep breath before pulling his hips back, watching your face as he snapped forward. You let out a moan, eyes rolling back.

Taking that as his cue to keep going, he repeated the action, quickly setting a steady pace. It was different than when you were in control, he was able to drive his cock deeper into your walls, making you moan louder than when you’d been on top.

“F-feels s-s’good,” he stammered, his head falling into your chest as he continued to thrust into you. “Ah~ fuck, that’s it, Innie,” you encouraged him. “Keep going.” Following his instincts, like you’d suggested, he cupped his hand against the back of your thigh and pushed your leg against your stomach, sinking his length further inside you with a groan.

“S’ so deep,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. Jeongin kept his eyes open, watching to watch your face as he fucked you. He’d never seen someone so beautiful before. “Faster,” you gasped. Jeongin complied, his thrusts gaining speed. “Oh f-fuck,” he groaned. “M’gonna cum.”

You took him by surprise, rolling him onto his back during his momentary lapse in control. Without giving him a chance to regain the upper hand, you took his hands and pinned them against his head. “Gonna cum already, little fox? I thought you’d last longer,” you said with a scoff. Jeongin whimpered, his cock twitching as his orgasm impending as you rocked your hips with renewed vigor.

He tried to pull his wrists from your hands but your grip was too strong. “Don’t fight me for control,” you said, leaning over to kiss him. “You gonna cum for me? Can’t even wait for me to say you can cum. Pathetic,” you scoffed. Jeongin bucked his hips up to meet yours.

“Please,” he begged. “Let me cum.” You shook your head. “Only good boys get to cum,” you retorted. “You haven’t been good.” Jeongin shook his head. “I have been good!” he argued, moaning at the end of his protest. “I’ve been good,” he repeated.

“Please let me cum, Y/N.”

You chuckled, slowing your movements, holding his wrists tighter when he protested.

“Such a greedy little slut. Wanting to cum first,” you snapped, rolling your hips. “F-fuck Y/N, m’gonna cum. Shit, shit, shit,” Jeongin whined, hips bucking up as his orgasm washed over him. You slowed your hips as his cock twitched, Jeongin releasing inside you with a whine.

You sighed, your hips coming to a stop as you looked down at him. “Couldn’t even wait for me to finish with you,” you said softly. Jeongin opened his eyes. “S-sorry,” he stammered. “I tried to stop but it just felt so good.” Your lips twitched into a smirk. “It’s okay,” you replied, releasing one of his wrists to cup his cheek. “But now you’re gonna have to lie there and let me finish,” you continued.

Jeongin looked up at you, leaning into your touch. “That’s okay,” he replied, letting out a gasp as you rolled your hips, his cock still lodged inside you. “You’re in for a long night, little fox,” you said softly, taking his wrist and pinning it again before sliding your hands to lace your fingers with his as you continued to rock your hips, feeling him slowly start to get hard again.

“A really long night.”

Jeongin awoke the next morning to the smell of meat and opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep and allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight that filtered into the cottage.

He rolled over, peering at you by the fire, cooking breakfast. He stretched his arms, whining at the soreness in his muscles. You chuckled as he pushed himself up, realizing he was shirtless. You, on the other hand, were fully dressed. “What happened last night?” he asked, reaching up to scratch his head.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten,” you said as you plated breakfast and walked over to the bed. Jeongin felt heat rise in his cheeks. “No,” he answered as you sat on the edge of the bed, presenting him with a plate. “I just forgot how many times,” he murmured, adding a thanks at the end.

You chuckled as you dug into your own food. “More than a few,” you answered. Jeongin looked up and then out the window. “How late is it?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not that late, It’s not even noon,” you replied. The two of you ate in silence, Jeongin thanking you again as you took his dirty plate.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked, noticing they were not on the floor where you’d left them the night before. “I washed them first thing this morning,” you answered. “They’re probably dry by now,” you added and headed out the door to retrieve them.

Upon entering, you handed the clean clothes to Jeongin who dressed himself in silence. “What do you plan to do?” you asked softly as you stoked the fire. Jeongin looked up and then down at his hands. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’d like to go find my mother,” he added.

You turned to look at him, a warm smile on your face. He got up and walked over to where you stood, his hands resting on your waist and pulling you closer. “But part of me wants to stay here with you.” You smiled, eyes shutting as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Stay here and maybe build a life with you.” Your heart swelled at the thought but it was quickly deflated by another thought.

“I think you should follow your heart,” you finally said, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead and turn away. Jeongin opened his eyes and sighed. He looked around the cottage and then at his bags on the floor near the table where he could see one of his mother’s journals peeking out at him.

His mind was made up for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Do what you have to do,” you added. Jeongin turned you to face him, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I will come back,” he said softly, eyes flickering between yours. “I promise.”

With his rucksack packed full of supplies you could spare and a map in hand, you pointed him in the right direction. Jeongin pulled you in for one last kiss, resting his forehead against yours for a few moments after. “I mean it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “I will come back. Regardless if I find her or not.” You nodded, smiling and keeping the sad feeling lingering in your stomach at bay.

“Be careful,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. Jeongin pulled away and started through the forest in the direction you’d pointed him. The last place you’d heard his mother had been spotted. North towards Mongol territory. As he reached the edge of your property, he turned to look back at you.

He raised his hand, waving which you returned and watched as he turned back and slowly disappeared from sight. With a sigh, you continued to stare after him. “You better come back,” you whispered to yourself, moving your hand to rest against your stomach.

Smiling to yourself you turned away and headed back into the cottage to tend to your chores, hoping Jeongin found what he was looking for sooner rather than later.

He only had nine months after all.

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #jeongin scenarios #jeongin imagines #jeongin fanfic #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #kwanisms kinktober 2023

427 notes · View notes

guillotinebypierre · 7 months

Text

Sex,

A sexual activity typically involving the insertion and thrusting of the penis into the vagina for sexual pleasure or reproduction.

Historically, the reasons people have sex have been assumed to be few in number and simple to understand. In nature, to reproduce, to experience pleasure, or to relieve sexual tension. Several theoretical perspectives suggest that motives for engaging in sexual intercourse may be larger in number and psychologically complex in nature, meaning that sex helps people form bonds, no matter if they're purely off sexual attraction or emotional attachment.

In theory, one night stands are thus something positive as one can live through all the good parts of sex without the attachment.

Or so you thought.

Y/n L/n never liked one night stands. At least until a certain point.

Back in 2015, when he was still a young and innocent boy, only 18 years of age he had gotten the opportunity of a lifetime, getting to work overseas with incredible pay and getting to know a totally different culture than the one he was used to.

So he took it.

In January 2015 Y/n went to South Korea and studied and worked there for 8 months. 8 months in which he got to know and got to love the culture. He wanted to stay longer, but he knew he couldn't. He had a life back in his home country. He had family, he had school and he had a girlfriend.

But that mindset changed entirely when he came home and found said girlfriend cheating on him as those 6 months were apparently 'too long' for her to wait for him.

This put Y/n in a bad situation, literally, as he had declined the company's offer of moving to South Korea , and figuratively, as he was mentally fucked up from that emotional abuse.

Y/n ran towards the organizers, calling them frantically and asking if there was a way for the offer to be reinstated, and much to his surprise, they gladly took him back in and got his ass on a flight the next day.

He didn't realize it yet, or maybe he just didn't want to admit it to himself, but he had already started missing South Korea. He boarded the plane, his phone constantly vibrating as his (now ex) girlfriend kept calling and texting him asking for forgiveness, but he didn't pay her no mind as he shut his phone off and smiled while watching the plane take off.

Y/n landed after what was a surprisingly calming 14 hour flight and got picked up by a chauffeur from the company, who took him back to the place he had called home up until a few days ago.

The first few nights were rough, as tears were shed and all the negative feelings Y/n had been suppressing started becoming too much to handle.

Y/n had never been one to drink alcohol, as he believed the negative aspects and especially the hangover were too much to be outweighed by a quick night of fun, yet something moved him to go to a bar that night. He dressed up, putting on a loose fitting white dress shirt, leaving the top three buttons upon as he was wearing a chain, some black trousers and finally, some black loafers.

It was a warm summer night in Seoul, adults and teenagers still outside even though it was getting late. The sun was just setting, the streets were lively and it seemed like every single light that could have been on at the time was on. Y/n drove through the city, music blasting in his car as he sighed. He still didn't understand how his life had turned out like this, he didn't get why reality had hit him like that all of a sudden, but his thoughts were soon swept away as his GPS announced his arrival at the destination.

The bar was full, about what one would expect of a bar in the middle of one of the most populated cities in the world during a summer night. The smell of alcohol and nicotine paired with sweat and sex stung in Y/n's nostrils as he walked through the bar, dodging drunk men hitting on women and waitresses bringing customers their drinks. Music blasted through the speakers, fueling the lust that was oozing out of every pore inside the building.

"That money is the only thing I'm chasin'

And some dope dimes on some coke lines

Gimme head all night, cum four times

Baby girl just wanna smoke a pound

Do an ounce, get some dick, tell her friends about it"

"One Lemon Vodka Cocktail please", Y/n told the bartender as he sat down.

"Go tell your friends about it

Go tell your friends about it

Go tell 'em what you know, what you seen

How I roll, how I get it on the low"

"I'll have the same thing he ordered please", a voice suddenly interrupted the music.

Y/n looked to his right and saw a woman who he could only describe as angel like. She had long, dark brown hair and wore a short black skirt which stopped a bit above her knees paired with a black vest blazer that exposed her toned stomach. She had very subtle make up on and her red lipstick accentuated her plump lips. She smiled at Y/n showing her bunny like teeth as she turned her body towards Y/n and held the side of her face with one arm, which was propped up on the table in front of them.

"You have good taste in drinks", she began.

"Thank you. I don't really like alcohol, though. I usually don't drink.", he answered.

"Oh really ? What's the special occasion then ?"

"Just need to lay my mind off some things.", he responded vaguely.

"Oh I get that. I normally don't drink either but I felt like I needed something to relieve my stress.", she replied while sipping her drink.

"What's gotten you all pent up ? Is it work related or something else ?", he asked her.

"Definitely work. I just feel so frustrated all the time and I'm still unsure about whether or not I'm gonna make it and it's just so draining, mentally and physically."

"Hey, relax. Take a deep breath. I'm here.", Y/n said while grabbing her shoulder. The woman had started tearing up and it was clear that whatever it is that was bothering her, it was taking a toll on her.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking ? You look pretty young and I don't think it's normal for people our age to be this stressed.", he asked her after buying her another drink.

"Oh I'm 20. How old are you ? You look pretty young yourself.", she answered while wiping away the tears from before.

"I'm 18. That means you're my noona, right? Sorry I'm pretty new to the country and the honorifics sometimes mess me up.", he said.

The woman blushed at the honorific before nodding.

The two young adults talked for hours, not even realizing how late it was getting as their conversation blended out all outside noises. Not a single tone of the continuous onslaught of R&B music being blasted nor the loud laughter of girls gossiping with their friends.

"Oh shit it's already 11 o'clock I should be going home", the woman said while frantically taking her things and throwing some bills next to her drink.

Y/n got up and walked behind her, seeing her take out her phone and making a call.

"FUCK I don't have any data to call anyone.", She said while kicking an empty beer can on the floor.

"Do you want me to drive you ? My car is right there", Y/n said while walking up to her.

"Oh no I don't want to bother you, I live halfway across the city..", she answered while looking down.

"I-I could take you to my place then if you want? It's not that far away and I can sleep on the couch.", Y/n said while blushing

"And here I thought I was forward, at least take me on a date first", she jokingly said while hitting his shoulder

"No but in all seriousness, I don't want you going through Seoul all alone at night."

"Wow such a gentleman, how could I possibly refuse such an offer, then", she said while smiling and walking with him to his car.

The pair soon drove away as Y/n's new friend quickly took control of the aux and started playing a few pop songs by what Y/n got to know as Kpop group F(x).

The duo soon arrived at their destination as Y/n opened the lock and walked in with the woman walking behind him while looking around.

His house was designed in a minimalist aesthetic. A white kitchen , white living room with one big couch, a large television and a nice rug with a coffee table on if. He had plants distributed evenly across the different areas of the living space, giving it a nice and cozy atmosphere. Y/n walked further into the house as the woman soon heard an almost timid meow coming from what she assumed to be the master bedroom. The door opened and out came a small black kitten which walked between Y/n's legs and started nuzzling it's head against his head.

She picked the kitten up and started babying it, giving it lots of kisses before Y/n suddenly spoke up.

"This is the room you'll be sleeping in for the night. You can just pick out any of my clothes to sleep in. Theres a bathroom at the end of the corridor where you can shower and I'll be in the living room if you need anything.", he said before closing the door and walking away.

The woman picked out a comfortable looking sweatshirt and a pair of joggers before walking into his bathroom. She immediately noted how clean it was, she saw an assortment of different colognes and a towel which looked like it could fit two of her, before walking into the shower and letting the warm water fall on her, relaxing all the sore muscles. She let out a sigh of relief before continuing to wash herself.

After showering and doing a reduced version of her night routine, she laid herself down on the bed and tried to sleep. Keyword tried. She tossed and turned but something just wasn't right. She thought a bit about it, and she quickly realized it was Y/n. She wasn't blind, she thought he was handsome, cute even. He was a great conversation partner, he wasn't a drunk idiot unlike the other men in that bar, he wasn't hitting on her in a way that made her uncomfortable and he even was so kind to offer her a place to stay for the night. She didn't want to admit it to herself as she thought it was ridiculous that she could fall for someone she met only 5 hours ago but here she was, laying in his bed, wearing his clothes, in his house.

"Fuck it I'm sick of this shit", she thought to herself before walking out of the room and seeing Y/n peacefully sleeping on the couch

"He's pretty", she whispered out loud.

She slowly crept towards his laying figure before opening the blanket and sliding into his sleeping figure, an action that didn't go unnoticed by him as he began to wake up.

"What the- Oh did you need something?", he asked her while slowly sitting up.

"It was getting lonely there", she replied.

"Oh I'm sorry. I could've given you my kitten if you-"

"Just shut up and kiss me already", she interrupted him before closing the distance and finally doing what she felt she should've done at the bar already.

The kiss was a bit awkward at first as Y/n was still too stunned at the situation to realize what was happening but after a few seconds he started kissing back. He moved her to his lap, putting his hands on her ass as he slowly smiled into the kiss. The pair continued until they forcefully separated due to lack of oxygen.

"I should've done that at the bar already"

They looked at each other and smiled before leaning in and kissing each other once more. Y/n switched their positions, grabbing the woman by her waist and laying her down, with him on top of her. He continued kissing her as his mouth soon moved lower and he started sucking on her neck.

"Pl-please no hick-eys. I-I don't want to have to sp-spend time covering-ah covering them up", she said while closing her eyes as he attacked her sweet spot. He nodded before making quick work of her- of his sweatshirt and throwing it somewhere on the floor. His lips and hands continued traveling further down her body as he saw the lack of a bra. Y/n toyed with her sensitive nipples, he pinched one while sucking on the other before switching.

The moonlight illuminated the living room as he saw the trail of saliva tracing his path down her body. Her eyes were still shut down while her back arched and her mouth was open, continuously letting out small whimpers and moans as Y/n worked around her body. He went further down, slowly kissing down her flat stomach before stopping at the waistband of the joggers. He looked up at her as she nodded, understanding that he was waiting for her consent, before he slowly took them off, throwing them too into the pile if clothing that now housed his shirt too. Y/n looked at her panties, the lacy red pair having an obvious wet spot right in the center, before taking them off and immediately diving in.

She tasted sweet. It was addicting. He slurped her up like water, drinking every single drop like he had been stranded in a desert. The woman cried out in pleasure as she grabbed a fistful of Y/n's hair and pressed him further into her hot core. Her back arched even more as her thighs pressed against the sides of Y/n's head. Her legs shook, her toes curled and her mouth drooled as her body completely shut down and exploded back to live all within a few seconds as her first orgasm of the night hit her like a bullet and shook her to her core.

Her juices dripped down the sides of her thighs and down to her asshole as Y/n frantically licked every spot he could find clean as to not waste a single drop of his equivalent to the elixir of life.

Her breaths grew heavier as she tried to calm down from her high. She sat up, looking hungrily at her lover as she noticed the obvious, painful looking bulge in his pants. She kneeled between his legs, her pussy juices dripping down onto the floor, and started to take his pants off. He was soon left with only his boxers before she took them off too and got hit with his cock as it sprang onto her forehead.

"I definitely should have made a move on you earlier", she said before leaning forward and taking the tip into her mouth.

She licked around the base, having to adjust a bit as she had never worked with something that big before, before diving in and taking a couple of inches down her throat. Her throat was tight, her tongue and throat muscles working expertly together as she started milking him dry. She continued laying on the pleasure as she jerked the part, which didn't fit in her mouth, in a circular motion while also playing with his heavy balls. She continued her oral attack for a few minutes before taking his member out of her mouth with a satisfying pop and standing up.

She sat on his lap before standing up a bit and guiding his large penis into her tight and awaiting pussy. She slowly inserted the tip before slowly squatting and taking it inch by inch. Her hands locked around his neck, pressing his head into her chest as she bit her lip while trying to get used to his large size filling her to the brim. She took a few moments before slowly moving her hips, riding him expertly in a circular motion.

She moved her hips, mimicking a belly dancer as she now stopped trying to contain her moans. She let out heavy breathy noises, which coupled with Y/n's groans and moans as he put his hands onto her ass, squeezing it and using it to guide her around his dick. The room was filled with wet slapping noises as her soaked vagina slammed down on his hard cock. The pair continued their make out session as the kisses turned from passionate to lustful, tongues battling for dominance as it was now unsure whether their top or bottom connection was wetter.

Y/n pounded into her as their hips moved in sync, his lap drenched in her juices as she had came twice while on top of him. He attacked her breasts again, making her moan and scream for him to fuck her harder and faster. He slapped her ass, asscheeks recoiling and moving like a wave hitting a quiet mass of water as he felt himself getting closer and closer. Her walls tightened around him as her orgasm approached once more. She shut her eyes close as they rolled into the back of her head, her thighs quivering and squeezing against Y/n's torso. She clamped around him, gripping him tightly as her muscles contracted around his dick. He throbbed and throbbed while she moaned in his ear that he could bust inside, before he reached his limit and let everything go, shooting thick spurts into her stomach.

They stayed in that position, hugging each other, until both of them passed out from exhaustion.

Y/n woke up the following morning with a bit of a sore lower body, confused as he didn't feel someone on top of him. He stood up, checking the bedroom and the bathroom before walking back and noticing a small note on top of the coffee table.

"Dear Y/n,

yes, I did get your name from your ID inside your wallet but don't worry I didn't take anything ;)

I wanted to thank you, for both the best night of my life (I'm still feeling sore :( ) and for being such a kind person. I was pretty down yesterday, and the stress was really getting to me, but you truly helped with that, and for that I want to thank you.

Sadly, I had to leave you early due to work and as much as I would've loved to stay in your arms (you look pretty while sleeping) I decided to leave so my boss doesn't fire me.

I hope you understand and aren't mad at me.

Love xoxo"

He read the note over and over again, looking for one particular piece of information before giving up on the tenth read and realizing he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

He did not get her name. He did not get her phone number. He met the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and had no chance to see her again.

-- time skip --

Eight years.

It had been eight years since what was now known as Y/n's greatest experience ever. He had gone out every weekend. Every weekend going around Seoul in the hopes of finding her again. He had slept with a lot of people in the hopes of finding someone to replace her with but to no success.

The sex with her was amazing but with anyone else it was just alright. They had gone all night but no one else had been able to make him feel the same way she did.

While planning another one of his trips, Y/n suddenly got a call from one of his closest friends.

"Y/N STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING RIGHT NOW", his friend screamed at him through the phone.

"Why-"

"DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING PLANNED TOMORROW?", he continued

"I'm going to the gym in the morning but other than that-"

"CANCEL EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW"

"I don't have anything to cancel-"

"I SAID CANCEL EVERYTHING"

"Alright fine damn but whats the occasion? Are you getting married?"

"BETTER, I GOT US TWO FRONT ROW TICKETS FOR THE TWICE CONCERT-"

"I don't even like Kpop like that-"

"YOU ARE COMING WITH ME. BE READY AT 4 o'clock TOMORROW. BYE", and with that he hung up.

"What have I gotten myself into", Y/n thought to himself before going to the kitchen and getting something to eat.

The morning soon came once again as Y/n left to go to the gym. He had heard of TWICE, of course, everyone had. But he didn't get Kpop like many of his friends did. He had a few groups that he liked but to him the industry was a very weird and toxic place, a place in which idols are seen as objects to fuel parasocial relationships and get money off of them, but then again, he had been sleeping around Seoul in the hopes of finding a woman he had met eight years ago so maybe he wasn't in the greatest position to talk about healthy relationships.

Time flew by as he was now walking with his friend around the venue, his friend deciding now would be a good idea to give him a rundown of the last eight years of TWICE's career until (thankfully) someone interrupted him as they tapped Y/n's shoulder.

"Excuse me, I saw you from a bit away and I thought you were really handsome. I wanted to ask if I could maybe get your number?", a girl asked him.

She wore a black bucket hat and a mask, black tight fitting jeans which gave a great look on her plump ass and a black turtleneck under a big black leather coat. Y/n didn't know what it was but her voice reminded him of someone, he just didn't know who.

"Oh yeah sure. Here's my phone, just type it in and send me a message to see if its good", he said while smiling down to her.

She took his phone off of him and started typing before giving it back to him. His phone vibrated soon after that as he saw the notification.

Nay❤️

Hey handsome <3

"Seems like everything worked, I'll talk to you later then. Have fun on the concert, handsome", she said before quickly getting on her toes, lovering her mask and kissing him on his cheek.

"How the fuck do you do it ,Y/n? This shit ain't fair you didn't even have to do anything! Show me you moves please-", his friend started pestering him as they walked towards their seats.

The show wouldn't start for another hour and a half so Y/n decided to text Nay in the meantime. The two went back and forth, teasing and flirting until she asked him to meet up after the show.

Nay❤️

I'm actually staying here until Monday morning. Would you like to meet up tonight ? I can send you my hotel address and room number. I'd really like to get to know you a bit more without, you know, so many people around us

And with that he had a plan for after the show.

The wait soon stopped as lights went out and a loud tune could be heard from across the venue. Y/n quickly recognized it as the opening chords to TWICE's TT. The girls stepped out, all looking gorgeous as they waved around at the fans. Y/n looked at each of them until his eyes fell on one girl and a sudden realization hit him.

Eight years ago he had fucked Nayeon. As in Im Nayeon. As in he had spent almost a decade going after an idol whom he had fucked once before she had debuted. Then it all clicked. The reason why she was so stressed was because of training. The reason why she didn't want any hickeys was because she couldn't be seen with them without getting in trouble. The reason she had to leave sooner was because she needed to be at her dorm for practice.

His eyes widened as everything suddenly made sense. Y/n looked back at the stage flabbergasted before realizing Nayeon was looking at him with a sly smirk on her face, as if she had read his thoughts. She waved at him, blowing a kiss and winking as the person behind him thought they had their main character moment.

"DUDE DID YOU SEE THAT NAYEON TOTALLY WINKED AT ME?????"

The concert went over quickly as Y/n's friend screamed his voice out while chanting the girls' names. Y/n had fun too, even though he spent most of his time looking at Nayeon. The two friends soon parted ways as Y/n got into his car and drove to the location Nay had sent him.

Y/n arrived at the hotel, noticing how luxurious it was as he made his way through security and told the receptionist that someone was expecting him.

He rode the elevator up until the final floor as his hands started getting sweaty. The last eight years had led up to this, he had looked for her ever since he was 18, he was 25 now and he couldn't believe it. One thing was for sure, though. He had let her go once and he sure as fuck wouldn't make the same mistake again.

He got to the door, checking his messages five times over to make sure the numbers matched up but there was nothing wrong. Room 2010, this was it.

He knocked on the door three times and it was as if every movement was in slow motion. He waited. Nothing happened. He waited again. Nothing happened. Just as he was about to knock again the door opened and he was suddenly pulled inside, all he could hear was the sound of the door closing and locking in record speed.

He looked around before noticing a smaller person with a large head of brown hair crash into him and hug him. He looked down and just as he was about to say something the person crashed their lips against his. It was a familiar feeling, a familiar taste. Cherries and a slight hint of vanilla. He was sure it was her.

The kiss continued for what felt like an eternity until both of them were forcibly pulled apart due to lack of oxygen.

Y/n looked down, panting heavily before seeing the bunny teeth he had been so desperately searching for the past eight years of his life. He broke out into a huge grin as the person in fron of him broke out into tears and hugged him.

"Hey, relax. Take a deep breath. I'm here. And I'm not leaving anymore.", he said, having major deja vu feelings.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you without a name or number it's just that-"

"Dating bans and whatnot, I understand Nay. Don't stress it", Y/n interrupted her while hugging her.

"I have been searching for you for the past eight years Y/n. You can't imagine how happy I was once I recognized your handsome face in the crowd during our concert."

"I've been looking for you the past eight years too Nay. You wouldn't believe the lengths I've gone to to try and find you but all I found was disappointment.", he said while laughing lightly.

The two sat in silence on the bed, Nayeon laying her head on his shoulder as he rubbed circles along her back. She finally had him back in her arms and she knew one thing. She wasn't letting him go this time.

Nayeon looked up from his shoulder, seeing him smile while looking at her , before she did what she wanted to do every day for the past eight years and kissed him. The kiss was different than the one before. It was raw, it was full of emotions, it was full of sorrow, full of pain, full of regret. It was an accumulation of everything she had wanted to give him for damn near a decade.

The pair kissed. They took breaks to catch their breath and then kissed again. The kissing soon led to making out as Y/n fell back on his back and Nayeon attacked his neck, sucking on it hard as if she wanted to mark her territory. She played with his hair with one hand while the other palmed his growing bulge. Her hands found their way towards the bottom of his shirt, ripping it off his head as she trailed down his muscular body, licking across his abs and sending shivers down his spine. Nayeon then took off his belt, throwing it away and pulling down his pants and underwear in one swift motion

His erect penis sprung at her, hitting her in the face once more just like it had all those years ago. She immediately took him inside her throat, inch by inch, as she coated most of the length with a layer of saliva. She did the combo once more, stroking his shaft with her hands while fondling his balls before she was suddenly picked up and felt her tights and panties being ripped open. She then felt a wet tongue entering her pussy as her eyes rolled back and she backed up into Y/n's face, using him as a seat. She grinded on his tongue, riding it expertly as he ate her out like she was his last meal while she was ecstatic.

Nayeon's suite was filled with wet noises as Y/n ate her soaked pussy out, it was filled with moans as she screamed his name and creamed on his face, it was then filled with slurping noises as she bent down and sucked his dick again until it was finally filled with a high pitched scream as Nayeon's body shuddered, her thighs closing in against Y/n's head and her pussy released it's sweet juices on his face.

Nayeon fell to the side, wanting to catch her breath, but Y/n had other plans. He picked the idol by her waist, positioning her over his cock as he plunged his thick cock inside her slippery super soaker. She gripped his dick immediately, not letting him ago as the tip continuously hit her weak spot, her walls tightening around him as he felt every single fiber of her sex muscle. She bit his shoulder, leaving bite marks across his anterior and posterior deltoid as she came on his dick once more, forming a big puddle on her bed sheets. He grabbed her ass as support before using it to slam her down while thrusting into her, occasionally slapping her ass cheeks leaving them bright red in comparison to her pale skin. One hand went down as he started playing with her sensitive clit, while the other continued on her ass for support before he changed that, too, and used it to play with her nipples.

Nayeon soon started throwing it back on his cock, twerking on it as she showed him how her hips moved, before she felt a familiar feeling of her orgasm approaching, making her squirt her juices on Y/n's muscular body. He continued relentlessly fucking her as he felt his end nearing, dick throbbing as his thrusts got sloppier and he focussed on hitting as deep as possible. Nayeon moaned into his ear, once more telling him to come inside, as he stroked for one last time before burying himself deeply inside her tight snatch and unloading every last drop of cum he had stored in his balls, holding her tight to make sure she got every last drop inside her.

The pair soon collapsed, as a large pool of sperm started oozing out of Nayeon's pussy while she sighed in a satisfied way. Y/n turned to his side, looking Nayeon deep into the eyes as he started speaking.

"You know, I never realized you were an idol until a few hours ago."

"I know. It surprised me back then already. Our survival show was already being published and you didn't recognize me at all. It was one of the big reasons why I trusted you like I did."

"I feel like we have so much to talk about, Nayeon. You're so gorgeous, I'm not letting you go. Not again."

"Who knew you were a hopeless romantic, Y/n"

"And here I was trying to give compliments"

"Pabo I love you too. I'm not letting you go either. I don't trust the women in this city. Did you see how many of our fans were eye fucking you at the concert? I can't let that happen. This dick and the person it's attached to are property of Im Nayeon and Im Nayeon only."

She stood up while laughing, limping slowly towards the bathroom before tuning around and speaking again.

"You know, we could shower together, save water costs and what not?", Nayeon said while pointing behind her.

"I don't think we'll be saving any water but I'll gladly join you."

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpopfap #idol x male reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #male reader #twice nayeon #twice smut #nayeon x reader

434 notes · View notes

hhnguyen · 1 year

Text

parts of my heart

This takes place shortly before the humans return to Pandora.

♢ Pairing: Jake Sully x Neytiri, Mom!Neytiri x Oldest Daughter!Reader, Dad!Jake Sully x Oldest Daughter!Reader

♢ Word count: 2.3k

♢ Genre: Family fluff, mother-daughter fluff, protective older sister

⌲ Description: A look at the Sully children through the loving eyes of Neytiri, and how you as the oldest daughter fit into this puzzle piece. Also a slight rediscovery of Neytiri and Jake’s relationship after the war cause it’s not talked about enough.

M A S T E R L I S T

The journey of motherhood had been both a tumultuous and joyous ride for Neytiri ever since her first pregnancy.

Being a chief’s daughter and also one of the clan's best hunters from a young age, she had hardly thought much about her future, which at the time had already been set up for her after her sister’s unfortunate death.

Neytiri had not started her life with expectations of becoming Tsahik, being the second daughter - so she had proven herself as a hunter and warrior until the sudden new responsibilities were thrust upon her shoulders alongside the engagement with Tsu’tey. Someone who she had viewed as an older brother, yet both of them were forced to accept the new arrangement in the following grief of Sylwanin’s death.

Jake had flipped her entire world upon entering it - something she had viewed negatively despite the signs of Eywa branding him as someone special, not to be ignored.

And he had turned out to be the missing piece in her life; the one who filled her lungs with fresh air and kept her afloat during hard times.

His presence alone comforted her, even across the room engaged in conversations with other people. Neytiri always knew she was safe with Jake nearby, and the same went for him. They were each other’s protectors no matter the situation. And now their protection had expanded over five children of their own.

Motherhood had been a scary thought during her first pregnancy with you. Having been conceived in the midst of uncertain times, yet filled with a new undiscovered love. Jake had been shocked to his very bones at the revelation, only a few days after the final battle against the sky demons.

She remembered the silence omitted from him, one of the very few moments Neytiri felt the fear of being left behind before a beautiful grin had filled his face and he had lifted her off the ground in joyous laughter, and abruptly changing into a frown as he had released her before muttering in slight horror, ‘You went to battle pregnant?’

She had simply hissed at him in slight frustration, reminding him quickly of who she was before he could go on a rant about her safety when the war was all over with.

Maybe that was why Neytiri found herself admiring her oldest daughter more and more these days as you grew older. Where Kiri was precious herself, she was more peaceful. A healer at heart, that reminisced her of Sylwanin.

Her little Tukteyri was still a child, too young to know who she was as of yet and still exploring her personality - but Neytiri could see the hints of an adventurer growing in her youngest daughter.

You were a spitting image of Neytiri at that age.

Fierce, unyielding yet loving and a nurturing sister at the same time. Although she had heard Jake sigh many times on how much you reminded him of his human brother. You loved your siblings to the ends of Pandora and Eywa herself despite your relentless teasing.

Neteyam - her sweet boy - was a silent protector. Observing and supportive in his comforting silence, especially to Lo’ak, who always gravitated towards his older brother like a fly to a light.

You were more Palulukan in that sense. Aggressive and vocal in your protective stance, eyes narrowed in a hidden promise and never letting any of your siblings out of your gaze in the presence of a hostile.

As a sister, her other children saw you as someone as steady as a mountain. Never to be moved when it came to their safety. But to her, and Jake especially, you would always be their little girl.

Their first little flower in their blooming garden of love and life.

Pausing in her making of Tuk’s new clothes, Neytiri cast her eyes across their hut in the common area where you were seated, busy fletching new arrows and sharpening all your personal weapons gifted to you through the years as little Tuktirey came racing in through the entrance in a beeline towards you.

There was a graceful smoothness in the way you were quick, yet casual to carefully put the sharp objects aside and out of harm’s way of the younger Sully and she threw herself in your lap with a large, dramatic pout.

“What’s up, Tuk Tuk?” You grinned down at her, smoothing back her braids. “Thought you were helping out Kiri with the herbs?”

“I was, but then it got boring when she and grandma started talking about plants and their many uses…” there was a huff of dismay as you chuckled.

“Sissy, please play with me!”

There was an apologetic smile on your face. “I can’t, Tuk. I told you I was busy catching up with maintenance duty today. And I’m joining dad and the hunting party later.”

Tuktirey would not budge, as Neytiri prepared herself to step in and stop the whinings of her youngest child. “But sissyyyy, you’re always busy and never play with me anymore. Even Lo’ak says he doesn’t remember the last time you two hung out.”

You felt the slight guilt in you swirling at the truth in Tuk’s words. You had been awfully busy with your tasks and more involved in the daily happenings of the clan, accompanying your dad on a lot of excursions outside of the village and thus having less time to hang out with your siblings.

Neyteyam too had been quite busy with his Olo’eyktan training, and Kiri starting her own journey as a healer. That left only little Tuktirey and Lo’ak to not have their days filled with lessons, leaving them quite lonely in a usually big family.

So you made up your mind.

“How about this, Tuk Tuk. Tomorrow I’ll bring you flying for the entire day. Just us two, hm? You’ll be begging me to be on the ground again by the end of it.”

There was a delighted gasp from your baby sister. “On Atanzaw?”

You nodded.

Atanzaw was your precious Ikran, meaning forked lighting. Your taming of him had been recorded as being of the most vicious battles in the last decade, leaving you with scrapes that dripped blood and bruises lasting for several weeks, as well as a broken wrist. Compare that to Kiri’s, who had simply reached out and asked hers to become her friend and finished tsaheylu and her first flight within five minutes - it made for a hilarious story.

He was known to be quite vicious among the tamed Ikrans even after your bonding. Only ever submits to you, and is even wary of having other people touch him if you didn’t calm him enough beforehand.

Your family knew this, Tuk especially, having been warned many times to not get close to the animal when he was close to the other mounts. So for her, to be able and fly this beautiful midnight blue Ikran, with his hints of green and yellow seemed like an adventure of a lifetime.

“Okay!” With her loud confirmation, she scrambled off your lap quickly before pointing at you with a stern finger. “You have to finish all of this today, sissy, or else we won’t be able to fly tomorrow!”

You contained your amused grin, forcing your face to remain dramatically serious and straightening your spine with a salute and firm “Aye Aye, sir!”

Satisfied with your agreement, Tuk vanished back out of the hut after pecking Neytiri on the cheek in passing.

You had been so caught up in the change of exciting atmosphere that you managed to cut yourself as you had blindly reached for the knife aside and touched the sharp edge instead.

“Fuck!”

Neytiri sucked in a reprimanding hiss at the language as you smiled sheepishly at her. “Sorry, mama.”

“Come to me, ma‘ite.” (daughter)

Although slightly suspicious at the sudden request, you listened and made your way across the hut and went to sit down in front of your mother when she grabbed your bicep and pulled you down in the empty space between her legs, back against her warm chest as she grabbed your hand with the cut with a slight tut, chin hovering over your shoulders.

“Mom!” You complained in slight embarrassment at being cradled against her like a babe again, ears flickering.

“Shush now. Let me bind that for you.”

As your mom started to clean the cut and smoothly bind it, you felt yourself relaxing against her larger form. The warmth of her body felt like a comforting blanket over you as your head tilted to the side to rest against the nape of her neck and shoulder, watching as she tended to your injury.

You barely noticed the almost drowsy state of yourself and how your tail had curled around your own mother’s calf like a baby searching for its protector unconsciously, as she finished and lifted your hand up to peck the injured area softly.

“How are you, my love?” Neytiri’s voice was soft as she started stroking your hair back, cuddling closer against the side of your head.

“Hm? I’m doing good, mama.”

“Are you being honest with me?”

“Of course I am.”

“Mhm.”

“What is it?”

“I just wonder when my children started lying to me,” it was an offhand comment.

“I’m not lying?” More awakened at her sudden questions, you tilted your head up with a small frown. “Do I not seem okay to you?”

You suddenly remembered back to the time you dad had taken you with him to the science lab at the old Hell’s Gate when you had just turned ten. Almost like a rite of passage of his own making by allowing you to accompany him on Olo’eyktan duties. You had felt like you were in a new world, with Norm showing you around with a watchful eye of your dad, always reminding you to take a breath from the mask if you felt a little uncomfortable. You had replied with a swift ‘Yes papa’ when Norm had said, so daddy’s your favorite huh?

There had been confusion from your part at that time. Because you couldn’t imagine having a favorite parent, the thought of it felt..disrespectful.

Your father was the fortress that shielded this family from dangers, while your mother made up the pillars that kept the fortress standing. Your parents were intertwined in soul and body, and one without the other could not function.

It was true that a lot of your time was spent beside your dad, so some humans must have viewed you as ‘daddy’s girl.’ But your mom was always there. Either in the shadows making the darkness seem less intimidating, or as a gentle reminder in your heart.

This was one of these moments. Where she was observing you without you knowing, seeing all the faults and hurts that could affect you that you hadn’t even imagined about.

“You know if all these excursions with your dad are getting too much, you are allowed to take a break from them.”

“What makes you think I need a break?”

Neytiri simply hummed, not ceasing in her loving caress of your long braids, nearly forcing you to relax against her again. “Your siblings miss you, ma ‘ite. I understand your dedication to learning the ways of our people and supporting your father’s Olo’eyktan duties. But you are still young, even if you’ve succeeded in your Iknimaya and Uniltaron, sixteen is not an adult just yet.”

You were the only of your siblings to complete all of the rites of the Omatikaya successfully without fail, Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak having only passed their Iknimaya’s and still preparing for the dream hunt.

The first face you had seen after waking up from your own dream hunt had been your dad’s. Eyes shining with tears and pride were painted across every inch of his expression as he pulled you into his arms, your mom standing just behind him with a tearful face herself.

“And sometimes I miss my own ‘itetsyìp.” (little daughter)

“She’s still here…” you murmured softly, staring at how much larger your mother’s body seemed cocooned around you.

“Oh my love, but you are not,” your mom’s voice had remained soothing and low as if she didn’t want to scare you away with the truth. “You may not have noticed, but you have isolated yourself away from us. Spending more time with the clan, trying your best to protect your siblings, and making sure there are no possible threatening outcomes. Do you know how I know?”

Your silence prompted her to continue.

“You are exactly like your father after the war. He was so busy doing his best in keeping us safe that for a time he forgot to live.”

“...And what did you do?”

“I knocked him upside down on his head and demanded him to wake up,” Neytiri said firmly, a smile slowly forming at the giggle you released.

“So I am telling you the same right now. You must remember to live, my sweet. Or else I fear your view of Eywa’s path will become obscured with time.”

There was a lump in your throat that you tried to swallow, although you couldn’t stop the harsh breath you took to keep back your tears as your mom’s arms tightened around you.

“I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t realize.”

“You are parts of my very heart,” Neytiri whispered, lips hovering above your head as a loving reminder of her presence, now and in the coming days. A staple in your life that would shield all that she could without hesitance.

“I will protect you to the very ends of time even if it is from yourself.”

Nuzzling further into her, you let an wavering smile grace your face as you replied just as quietly. “I know. Oel ngati kameie, sa’nu.” (I see you, mom)

”Nga yawne lu oer, ma’ite.” (I love you/ You are beloved to me, daughter)

Am I really churning out all these drabbles of the Sully family while I can without caring about the amount? Well yes, yes I am.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar imagine #sully family #sully reader #neytiri x you #neytiri x daughter!reader #jake sully x daughter #sully family x reader #mom neytiri #dad jake sully #good mama neytiri makes me wanna cry

3K notes · View notes

ellesgreenaway · 2 years

Text

say that you miss me | eddie munson

summary: a birthday party brings eddie reluctantly back together with an old high school flame he hasn’t seen in two years.

word count: 7.7k

warnings: minors dni, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie (?), swearing, afab reader, slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader initially doesn’t come off very well, use of drink and mention of drugs

a/n: i’m actually a little nervous about this one as it’s really the longest fic i’ve ever written and i haven’t really written like much in this way so please be kind to me! any feedback is really appreciated :)

“Du-ude!” Steve cries out in despair when he opens his front door, both voice and face riddled in disappointment. “I told you to comb your damn hair when it’s wet! What is this shit?”

Eddie blinks deadpan, standing frigid with a large box full of an assortment of black market priced alcohol (it was half spiced rum, clearly not much of a demand for it) with his little box of the good stuff buried deep. “I think you mean to say: Hey Eddie, thanks so much for bringing hundreds of dollars of merchandise to my party.” He replies, thick with sarcasm.

Eddie could barely hear himself speak. He had only arrived a whole twenty minutes after the said start time of the party that Steve had announced to the group (and repeatedly after for the last several days leading up to it), deemed by young person status as way too early, and yet Eddie could barely make out any other sounds apart from the dreaded sound of the popped-up excuse of rock that was overplayed on every radio station booming thickly through every wall of the (quite frankly) colossal hunk of a house Steve lived in. People were bustling in and out of rooms and collecting in rooms like it was New York City, and it immediately put Eddie on edge. He arrived early to make sure he could be scarce, not the centre of attention.

Steve rolls his eyes, taking the box of beverages from Eddie’s hands. He made sure his drug box was taken out before it was no longer in his possession. “I’m just saying man, you complain time and time again about how frizzy and knotty it gets, and when I offer you sound advice, you disregard it.” Eddie is following his friend blindly through the open plan grandeur of a home Steve finds himself lucky enough to live in, half not listening because he thinks he’s never seen a house this big before, let alone been in one. He bumps into person after person, recognising them all from high school, and it’s only a few seconds before the lump in Eddie’s throat grows ever bigger as he realises this was just an excuse to throw an informal high school reunion. It had only been months for Eddie compared to years for everyone else; he wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for this to be thrust upon him.

“And you still don’t listen!” Steve quips harshly, and the tone gets Eddie’s attention after a long while, making the metalhead roll his eyes with minimal care.

Eddie shrugs lightly, an end destination in sight as Steve sets down the worn cardboard onto a spacious wooden table, placed against the wall where an assortment of other drinks have already been placed in their regiment.

People are looking, and aren’t really making it subtle, either. They were probably just as surprised as Eddie was - what was he doing showing his face in Steve Harrington’s home? - but it seemed that, by some miracle, they were friends, so it was a heckle-free zone. As much as Steve’s reputation had dropped since he left school, he was still much more well-known than anyone else in this house. The shouts of murderer and satan worshipper were hung up at the door for one night only.

It was packed beyond belief, but when Eddie looks around him, he notices the entire bottom floor of the house is rid of personal photos, glass and anything that exceeds the value of ten dollars. Apparently, even at the ripe old age of twenty-one, Steve is still deathly afraid of getting his ass handed to him by his parents. Eddie knows he wouldn’t want that from Wayne, even if he were forty.

“When’s Robin getting here? I rarely see her without you.”

Steve seems to relieve himself of some of the party hosting stress that evidently seems to have piled on top of him throughout the day at the mention of his best friend’s name. “She came from work with me this afternoon, she’s just running an errand for me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, more in disbelief than shock, it was quite on brand for Harrington to get the whole gang involved for something so trivial as a party that will probably be filled with people he’s been dreading seeing since the day he graduated — everyone he went to high school with. Worse, people who finished high school before he did.

A small snort leaves Eddie’s nose, mindlessly fiddling with a small bowl of gummy bears that sat lonesome at the edge of the drinks table. It lay practically untouched, and he could only imagine that Robin had insisted some sort of food would be provided at the bash. Eddie was growing uncomfortable; he rarely spent time alone with Steve Harrington, and it’s never exceeded the point of awkwardness. It was teetering on the edge of such.

“I dread to think what you got that asswipe Henderson to do for this.” Eddie laughs, and it seems to have avoided the edge of that awkward ledge, as Steve chuckles along just as the door goes.

“He got home from college only last night and is currently hauling ass, borrowing speakers from Family Video to bring them here. Little dude can barely carry one of those things, will probably need Mike or some shit to help him.”

Steve opens the door to Robin, who looks annoyed as per with her friend, holding up several sheets of fax-printed paper. She walks through without even greeting the birthday boy, something that ignites a stifle of laughter from Eddie under his breath. That earned him his own greeting from Robin, throwing him a quick wave as she slams the paper down on the table.

“Did you print it all? That fax machine is crap at the best of times.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing a pointed look at Eddie as if she were asking for help. “Why did I just walk in with three sheets of paper, dingus? To hand in a college essay?”

As Eddie’s smirk gets wider, Steve’s scowl deepens, snatching the paper to his own hands, scanning it momentarily.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why you need a list to this stupid party, anyway. Everyone’s already here, this town hasn’t had a party in years.”

Hold up, now Eddie’s curiosity seems to be piqued. His head whips to where Steve stood on the other side of him, taking the paper for himself and carefully dissecting every name that was typed in several long columns.

His eyes stop tracking on one name, head whipping up to Steve. “You invited Y/N?”

Steve furrows his brows, taking a swig from a beer he had picked up from the table. “You, Eddie Munson, know Y/N Y/L/N?”

Eddie swallows thickly, eyes shifting to the floor, uncharacteristically nervous, the paper being shoved roughly back into Robin’s hands. Seeing that name gave him such an immediate rush of butterflies he thought he was going to barf, and he was sober.

“I need a drink,” Was all Eddie could respond to the question posed to him, taking the nearest liquor and pouring a quick shot. It was unfortunate, he realised as the liquid burns layers off his throat, that it was tequila, but anything to take the edge of what he was feeling right now.

Robin widens her eyes, shifting the tequila bottle away from her friend by a few metres, worried the whole bottle would be demolished before long if Eddie carries on like this. “How about we start slower, hm? Like a beer,” She replaces the shot glass with a can quickly.

Steve narrows his eyes suspiciously at Eddie; he knows his fair share of the feeling a drink could fix instead of facing a past flame, but the pairing of Eddie and Y/N doesn’t fit at all in his head. “When were you two a thing?”

Eddie screws his eyes shut; he knows he can’t really avoid this subject for long. “Senior year. My first one.”

A small but triumphant cheer leaves Steve’s lips, clearly already on the edge between tipsy and slurring, his hand coming down to clap proudly on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Didn’t take you for goody two shoes to be your type man, but then again, how I ever dated the smartest girl in Hawkins beats me.”

Cringing and deciding he was officially too sober to take part in this conversation about his past love life, he takes his belongings, eyes drawn to the garden door.

“Surely someone needs some weed by now right?” He asks rhetorically, but turns to Robin with pleading eyes, who just shrugs bemused.

So much for these new friends.

Thankfully for Eddie, half the people at this party who were already drunk and looking for a little boost to keep the night going had somehow remembered Eddie was the drugs guy, not the accused murderer guy, and a small queue had formed at the bottom of the garden as he got on with what he was used to doing the whole of highschool: living in the darkness dealing the bad stuff to the angels of society.

It was such a monotonous process, asking what was needed, sorting it out into the numerous small translucent bags, opening his hand and waiting as the exchange was made. His head stayed down the entire time, so over the game of which Hawkins sweetheart wanted an experience of the dark side. It also depersonalised it for him, made him feel less guilty for doing what he did. He knew the risks of these things, but he didn’t have a choice. Being working class and only having a minimum wage job at The Hideout meant he was the lowest of the low. Not many options are handed to a young man with no savings and only a highschool diploma to his name.

“I had always hoped that something better for you would come along apart from this, Eddie.” Lulled a sweet tone, almost dripping with it, dancing into Eddie’s ears. His head snapped up. The sweetness was all too familiar to him, something he had occasionally dreamt of in the last few years.

And yet, dreams don’t really amount to the feeling of seeing you again. Except, it wasn’t the exact replica of the young woman he had seen leave Hawkins for college. You were rougher on the edges, a cigarette balancing between your index and middle finger, the smoke of it wafting up into your hair and around your clothes.

Eddie stifles a chortle, and he can’t help the smirk line his lips like he was seventeen again, “And I had never hoped to see someone like you smoking cigarettes when you berated me for doing the same.”

You roll your eyes, flicking the thing out of your delicate fingers, letting it fall into the damp grass. It sits there on the ground for a few seconds, burning into the green until your boot comes to crush it. Now the cigarette lays limp and surrounded by the ash of its former flame.

“It’s social only. I’m not addicted.”

The adjective almost felt like a small jab at Eddie, but he brushes it off, deciding instead with a polite smile. It was all he could manage when the beating of his heart thumped heavy in his ears and throat.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Is what he settles with, but the thing is he actually meant it. It was nice to see you, however belated it may have been. And while there was a roughness he seemed to have never seen in you before, he was pleased to see that you had finally grown into your character. You were the woman you had always strived to be in highschool: unapologetically yourself, and it almost made him swoon in admiration.

Your face softens at that second, the first bricks of the wall you had built up around herself removing one by one. It was then that Eddie sees that you hadn’t really changed, no matter how grown up you had become. That same excited and slightly naïve sparkle of your eye appeared, just as you whisper back, “You too, Munson. It’s been a while.”

A wide grin began to line Eddie’s lips, and just as he were to open his mouth again, ready to dive into a nostalgic conversation and settle into memories that he cherishes so dearly to his chest, you get a fierce tap on your shoulder - more of a jab really - causing you to turn around and face whoever was disturbing Eddie’s time with you.

Another girl, someone who looks familiar but not enough for Eddie to care, along with Nancy Wheeler, who flashed Eddie a knowing little smile, eyes shifting to you, bounced up beside Eddie’s ex, grabbing onto your shoulders enthusiastically. The move almost made you fall from the surprising weight added to her back.

The unknown friend speaks first, her jaw constantly moving up and down, a fluorescent pink piece of bubblegum the one to blame for the jarring movement smacking in Eddie’s ears. “Hey, we’re about to play some poker in the basement if you wanna join,” She whines, and Eddie sighs to himself quietly. He had only managed to have forty-five whole seconds of you to himself, and you were already in high demand for your attention. It was something that harkened Eddie back to when he was coupled with her all that time ago. The girl notices Eddie sigh, her sharp gaze shifting to him, scrutinising everything about him in just a split second. “Who’s he?”

Suddenly you grow bashful, your cheeks darkening across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, averting your eyes down to the patch of grass where your cigarette lay lifeless. Your mouth opened and closed again, the speechlessness overcoming every sense in your body.

Despite the flash of hurt that pangs Eddie’s chest, he speaks up, “I’m just the drugs guy.” He informs her with fake sincerity, one she didn’t notice as her eyes light up slightly at the opportunity struck before her to turn the party up a notch.

You flash Eddie a grateful smile, turning to your friend. “He’s not just the drugs guy,” You begin, and a match of hope lights itself in Eddie. Just say we dated, say we were a thing, a fling, anything, he begs in his mind. “This is Eddie Munson. We…We um- We went to school together. His mom used to clean my house.” You say bluntly, and the match in Eddie dies out quickly.

Suddenly Eddie is reminded why he and you never worked out in the first place; not only did you ever manage to admit to one single person that you and Eddie were together, no, scrap that, in love, with one another, but it reminded him of a time more peaceful than what he’d been through in the years since you. His mother no longer being around was the hardest pill to swallow.

Seeing the disappointment fill Eddie’s eyes, you attempt to reach your arm to Eddie, and he’s letting you, showing no signs of resistance to the attempt of comfort, but you stop yourself just short of his bicep. The hesitation is all too clear all throughout you, body and face and all, and Eddie isn’t sure how much longer he can take this. He doesn’t need to be reminded by the first (and so far only) person he ever loved to tell him through everything but words that he wasn’t good enough.

Eddie lets in a sharp breath of the late autumnal air, the release of it creating a pillow of cold air that wisps around his face. “I best clock in a break, it seems custom has dried up for now.” He announces, as usual with an air of humour laced in with it, but as his eyes shift to avoid yours, he catches Nancy’s instead, who frowns with a level of concern that was equivalent to pity, and Eddie was certainly not in the mood for that.

“Hey Eddie, come play po-” You begin to ask, but Eddie was fast leaving the garden, which has slowly become unbearably stifling despite the chill creating thousands of small goosebumps underneath the leather protection of his jacket.

That drinks table was most certainly going to be raided.

You were glad to see Eddie again, you really were - you felt like after so many years being lost and bewildered, trying to find your footing in this weird world, seeing him again felt like she became grounded slightly again. You were really home now.

“So, that’s the infamous Eddie Munson,” Mused Wendy, a friend from college who’d come home with you for the weekend, sharing with you and Nancy an exciting wide smile, almost dying to hear the words that you wanted Wendy and Nancy to play matchmaker.

Wincing, you push her animated friend off of yourself, traipsing slowly back to the house where Eddie had well by now disappeared into. It would be near impossible to find him again in all this space with so many people in it.

Nancy pulls a puzzled face to the pair of friends, “Wait, you liked Eddie too? I just thought he had a massive crush or something.”

“Huh! Liked? The girl was in love with him, Nance. Spent her entire first semester in freshman year wallowing in our dorm for no reason until I finally got it out of her.”

Nancy was even more confused by the statement, and the journalistic instinct in her begged for more information, linking her arm through yours as they carried on their walk back to the loud wall of sound. “What happened between you guys?”

You sighed, looking down at a small chip that’s appeared in her nail polish since coming to the party. As much as it was nice to see Eddie again, reliving the mistakes of your past, and making them again wasn’t something that screamed 21st birthday to you, even if it wasn’t your birthday.

Still, you knew if you weren't going to say now, Nancy would be bugging you until she gave all the details and more. At least now she had control over how much you could reveal. You hadn’t even told Wendy everything, just the basics. “We dated in senior year. I was…concerned with how we’d look together. To everyone else. I knew it wouldn’t help my social status, basically.” You admit guiltily, and you knew that Nancy was smart enough to put the missing pieces of the jigsaw together, and her eyes widen with shock and a slight disappointment when she eventually does.

It made you sting. Yeah, you weren't proud of what you did either.

“And you just…what, haven’t spoken to him since then? Senior year of highschool?” Nancy exclaims out loud, and you try not to notice the sharp daggers Wendy points at the eldest Wheeler sibling, but you shrug it off, the guilt swimming in your lungs.

It was going to drown you.

Shrugging your two friends off your shoulders, you turn to them, a fierce look in your eyes, switching between them and the sight of the dozens of college students all crammed together dancing to whatever was playing. “Will there be lots and lots of booze at this poker game?”

Wendy smirks slightly, grabbing your hand and yanking you back inside the house, the once barely distant thumps of the music (you swore it was quieter before she came out into the garden) now distinctly deafening, feeling your organs jump with you in your body in time with the beat of the tunes. Nancy wasn’t far behind, more cautious than the impulsive actions of your freshman roommate and much more aware that there were other people attending too, but the busyness of the atmosphere has you not thinking straight.

That and the fact that Eddie Munson was at any given place in this house right now.

Approaching the drinks table where they earlier dropped off a polite bottle of wine (it had already been drunk), Wendy grabs three clean plastic shot glasses, reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila standing nearest to her.

Nancy screws her face up, waving her hand in near total dismissal.

“Oh my God Wendy, you’re trying to kill me. I need a chaser if I’m gonna be forced to shot that.”

Laughing with an almost cynical undertone, Wendy raises the shot glass right under both Nancy and your noses. Both of you share the same look of dread.

“I know none of these small-town Indiana dorks apart from you two, so if I’m gonna have a good time, you’re gonna get wasted with me and we mess around, ‘kay?”

Well, you couldn’t really disagree with that doctrine.

Flinging back shot after shot, the music went from thumping and slightly unbearable beat of the music to danceable and you were even almost starting to enjoy it. You danced with your friends, well, it was dancing in their eyes, squashed among the dozens of people that amalgamated in Steve Harrington’s living room, and although the three of you were panting as you danced, the back of their necks collecting beads of sweat that eventually dripped down your necks, tickling your spines. It had been nice, for once, you thought as you waved your arms around in the crowd, grinning madly at your two friends, that you were able to fully enjoy yourself without consequence. Usually, you had practice in the morning, or study group, or you wouldn’t even be out, writing an essay until the early hours of the morning instead.

There was a slight sadness in your eyes as you danced, too. You might have been drunk and dancing like no one was watching, but she still felt the trickles of dread as the regret you had felt for the whole of freshman year for Eddie had returned in full force.

You were feeling small tears prick the back of your eyes; it came on suddenly, like a big wave at sea that looked small at first but was actually going to swallow you whole, and the dancing came too to a sudden stop.

You swallow thickly, patting your purse around your shoulder to make sure her cigarettes were packed away. “I’m um— I’m going to go for a quick smoke break, ‘kay?” You shout over the throbbing bass, and luckily your wave of emotion came at the right time, both Nancy and Wendy agreeing they’ll meet you in the basement game of poker Jonathan, Robin and Steve were at.

The lighter came in contact with the cigarette as soon as you had stepped outside, and you had never been so grateful to take a puff from something you tolerated at the best of times, walking over to a step at the side of the house, letting the cool air gently penetrate your burning skin.

When holding the stick of tobacco between your two fingers, your mind once again goes to Eddie. How he brought up the fact you told him off as much as you could whenever he smoked one of his own, and how much it was true. The memory brought a bittersweet chuckle past your lips, slightly curved from the nostalgia.

You heard the sound of feet dragging against the pebbles of the driveway behind you, and you weren’t very surprised to see Eddie approach you, his trademark smirk painting his mouth, but it was more subtle than usual.

You throw him a wobbly smile, suddenly feeling the need to put the cigarette out again, so desperately insecure of doing anything remotely bad around him. Eddie, of all people, but you knew it was because these were all things you never would have done in highschool.

He was going to walk past you, step over her tight-clad legs and carry on his journey to what looks like his van, just a few metres off in the distance, but a thought bubbles up in your mind, and you knew it would bug you forever if you didn't ask there and then.

“Do you have regrets?” You ask, just above a whisper but not quite talking at a normal volume. You were nervous to ask.

Eddie turned around, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity at you. He likes to think he still knows you well enough to know that this isn’t brought on from random drunk thoughts, but he also knew he couldn’t just ask outright what got you asking questions like this. Not anymore, anyway.

He begins to walk back, standing over her just centimetres away, his eyes studying your face, which was turned down to the ground, your lips pursed desperately around the cigarette that was nearly out, looking at you drain everything you could out of it. He decides to perch next to you, leaving a big enough gap that it was considered appropriate. “Regrets about what? Mine are sorted into categories, you know.”

You smile, puffing out a laugh from your nose. “I dunno, like…Do you ever regret not going to college? For not passing senior year first time? All those little things that you could have changed, could have altered to make that slight little bit of improvement, but you just…didn’t?”

Eddie thought about your question, lighting a cigarette of his own while he pondered. “I could’ve, yeah. I could have done all that shit, got a degree, left this town, maybe studied something I knew I would be good at. But, ah, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any point in wasting my energy on the what ifs. I have shit I gotta deal with now, today, and that takes up enough as it is,” He inhales deep, getting lost in his thoughts while looking at you. He had never seen you so troubled, not even when you two broke up. “I feel like I could have done better, a lot of times, but do I regret it? Rarely.”

You don’t really respond, just sniff and look away again, your hand drawing through your hair delicately, but it was like it was bothering you. Everything seemed to look like everything was bothersome in a way.

“My turn,” Eddie declares, feeling like this was the only way to find out what was wrong with you. He wasn’t even thinking about the fact that he hadn’t seen you in two years, or that forty-five minutes ago he wanted to be anywhere but around you. The need to act like your support dial had overwhelmed him like an instinct. This was natural. “You have never felt the need to feel regret once in your life, sweetheart.”

“Not a question.” You point out.

Eddie chuckles, holding his finger up to you, “Patience, I’m getting there,” And suddenly you turn to him, your body strong and straight, but eyes are full of worry for whatever he could possibly ask. He hopes you know him well enough to still guess it’s probably to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering you. “So you’re obviously regretting something, what is it?”

You huff heavily, and Eddie could sense your walls were going up, defending yourself from the vulnerability and insecurity you once gave herself willingly to with Eddie. You shuffled away one inch. “I haven’t seen you in two years, Munson. You can’t expect me to tell you all my worries and fears like we’re still together.”

Eddie feels the need to remind himself to be patient, swallowing thickly. He can’t help but trick himself into thinking this, looking at you, the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, making you look so ethereal with your beauty.

“You asked first, sweetheart, don’t pretend you don’t miss talking to me.” He replies, but it just seems to have frustrated you more. Eddie knows it’s not frustration directly at him, your frustrated with herself.

You look at him, eyebrows crossed, a crease diving the two of you. “So what? I— ugh! Everything is so fucking complicated!”

“With me?”

“Yes!” You cry, and you’re stood now, pacing up and down the little alley created at the side of Steve’s house. “But no, too. I…seeing you tonight has just thrown me off, that’s all. I…I can’t think straight.”

“Ah, so that’s why to your friends I’m still Eddie, a friend whose mom cleaned for your mom?” He asks, and it was petty, he knows, but the stings of pain just couldn’t help but trickle their way into the conversation. All he ever wanted from you was to just admit that you were both in love, even if it was once upon a time.

You crumple your fists as if you were containing all your anger in there, but when your head throws up to look at Eddie, who’s also stood up by now, your eyes are full of nothing but apology.

“Come on Eddie, you know I never meant that. And…And you always meant more than that to me. So did your mother. She was like family to us.”

Eddie huffs, and the dread returns to him like a bad sickness. He realises tonight, seeing you for the first time in months and months that really, he never got over you. You matter as much to him now and as you did when you were seniors sneaking around, but the insecurity fills his chest when he explores the thought that you could ever have felt the way he did.

Maybe he was too drunk. God knows you were too.

“I think I’m just gonna conduct business from my van for the rest of the night. Enjoy the party, Y/N.” He says defeatedly, walking to his van and expecting his old flame to walk in the opposite direction.

But you didn’t. You didn’t walk away, not this time.

“Well what do you want me to do, Eddie? Take back the past?! That’s impossible!” You ask as you follow him to his van, your hands flying around your face wildly. There were tears glassing over your eyeballs, and no matter how mad at you he is for hurting him, for making him feel every bit like he didn’t deserve to be loved, Eddie’s chest still tightened when he saw you like this. You run your hands through your hair again, practically ruining it, sniffing roughly. “I loved you, I loved you like I’ve never loved anyone else before…and yeah, I couldn’t say it out loud when I was seventeen, and I’m sorry, I really am,” You’re looking at him dead in the eye now, any hesitation or resistance he had seen earlier in the night now completely gone, and Eddie feels a change in the electricity around the two of you when he looks back, “but you can’t punish me forever. I’m done being punished, Eddie. If you wanna move on so badly, do it.”

He thinks you’ve said this because you know deep down that the daring words that drip from your tongue edge Eddie to stay, do the complete opposite of what you’ve offered him. You’re not dumb, you’ve probably noticed the way that ever since you asked him that question at the side of the house that he’s inched closer to you with every word shared between you, nice or not. You can probably smell the mix of musky wood from his cologne and the ashy taste of cigarettes that permanently linger in his mouth, just as he can smell the sweet floral tones of your perfume, a mix of flowers and soap.

You have seen to finally have given him an out. It should have felt relieving.

Yet Eddie just couldn’t back away. He hesitates a scoff, low and scowling, tired of arguing but he has no other way to talk to you right now without wanting to just take your face in his hands and kiss those plump glossy lips of yours. “You still couldn’t even admit we were even together. We’re twenty now. Hell, almost twenty-one. Three years on and you can’t admit it!”

You’re bashful, looking down to the concrete driveway. “I don’t want them to give any more excuses to constantly pick at you.”

“Them?”

“This batshit crazy town, Munson! What do you think people will do when they find out we dated, huh? They’ll tear you apart, think you corrupted me or put your bullshit claims of satanism onto you, and I can’t help you! I’ll be in Emerson!” You say, the tear falling loose from your eye and trailing down your cheek.

Eddie blinks at you, the act of anger slowly washing away on his features. “You heard about everything then, huh?”

“I think I spent my whole summer telling people to go fuck themselves for thinking someone who likes metal and plays a kids fantasy game was capable of murder.” You says with a nervous chuckle, and Eddie’s heart rises to a flutter, staring at you with contentment, and a reminiscent reminder of the way he used to look at you when you were together; with total infatuation.

Suddenly Eddie was stuck.

He was stuck because he had finally been given an opportunity to move on from you, try and forget your face as he lived your life and you carried on with yours in Boston, but he doesn’t think he had ever imagined a more beautiful thought than thinking about you telling a stranger making comments about Eddie the murderer to do one.

He stays stuck while looking at you, leaning against the back door of his van, head staring at the cold night sky, exposing your neck, your chest heaving up and down from the exhaustion of their argument. Eddie couldn’t stop staring, momentarily parting his lips and wetting them with his tongue.

He steps closer to you. It was only one small step, barely stretching his legs before your thighs touched his. You look down again to look him in the eye once more, but differently than before, you’ve noticed the change in air, too. You noticed the way Eddie has his lips slightly parted, his chocolate doe eyes are blown open, pupil swallowing the colour almost entirely. His hand is inching closer to your cheeks, and when his palm eventually comes into contact, you feel singes of his burning hot touch, almost like fire, and it alights a small gasp from your lips, a sound that roars Eddie’s determination to life.

His thumb lowers, tracing delicately down your cheek until it reached the corner of your lips, slightly chapped and the gloss drying in odd places, all the while keeping the fierce hold of your eyes that made you soften and pant harder in anticipation.

A small smirk quirks one side of Eddie’s mouth. He has you right where he wants you, ready for him to launch onto you and get back to what you used to do in highschool, but he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet. “I would kiss you,” He begins, voice low and grumbling a little with the whisper, “But you might not want everyone else to know your pretty little mouth likes kissing the freak of Hawkins.”

Immediately you roll your eyes, your own hand cupping Eddie’s cheek. You take the majority of the leap, their lips in contact but not kissing when you ever so slightly take your back off the van door.

“You kiss me right this second, Munson, or I tell everyone that you cried watching Grease.”

He stifles a snort, smirk only growing wider. “We can't be having that, can we? I have a reputation to think about.”

When their lips finally connect, Eddie feels like he’s truly on fire everywhere, the touch of your lips igniting a burn that’s travelled through every vein in his body. It’s like his body has woken up again after years of being asleep, a jolt of energy surging through his nerves, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Eddie’s hands instinctively slide onto your waist as the kiss deepens, your mouths open, tongues playing with one another desperately. It was messier than Eddie had ever imagined, and definitely less romantic, but when you settle your arms around his neck, pulling on the hairs at the nape, any coherent thought about his dream reunion with you goes out of the window.

It’s possibly minutes before you finally disconnect, silently making out at the edge of a party like the teenagers they once were when you were together, but you never lose contact, your lips peppering kisses constantly on his lips and around them. Eddie is distracting himself putting his hands under your top, the cold of his hands against the warmth of your belly eliciting a high-pitched whine from you, and it’s a noise Eddie is familiar with.

It had been too long since he heard that heavenly sound.

You seemed to have kicked your thinking brain in, taking Eddie’s face between your hands and taking his lips off your neck. “Do we really wanna do this again? I…I don’t want you to beat yourself up for this.”

Eddie throws her a lust-filled smile, but the question of concern has his heart fluttering. “What did I tell you about me and regrets, darling?”

You throw him a grateful smile, but you still hold him with hesitancy. Oddly though, it’s a different kind of hesitancy than what he’s used to. He throws you a questioning look, and you sift his chocolate waves through your hands when you give in. “I want you to know that I always regretted the way I handled things with you. Because the love I felt for you…the love I feel for you, I never went about it the right way.”

Now the insecurity and fear has left Eddie, because as he looks at you, his hands enveloped in yours and flush against your sternum, trying not to think about those tits he’d missed so much swallowing half the conjoined hands as they squeezed together, he’d finally felt like he understood her side after all this time. You were just as insecure.

“Let me show you then, sweetheart,” He pleads quietly, pressing kisses to each corner of your mouth, “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

Happily relenting, you flush your lips against his, connecting once more, but this time it felt more comforting to the both of them, like coming home at long last. It wasn’t long before your mouths opened for one another, Eddie’s tongue in your mouth and sucking your bottom lip as you mewled in response. His cock twitches when he hears you make those noises, thinking he’d never hear them again yet here he was, against the back door of his van with his lips attacking yours, and your hips pressing into his crotch, making him grunt in response.

“Fuck Eddie,” You pant, already breathless when your lips aren’t on Eddie’s for three long seconds, and Eddie wants to throw his head back if it weren’t for your hands tangled in his hair. “As much as I’m happy to show everyone how much I love me a bit of Eddie Munson, this is a bit public for me.”

Eddie feels himself smirk into your neck, travelling down and he feels his chin touch the top of your tits, and he tilts his head down to kiss them gently. The traces of fingers and fiddling of clothes that so desperately want to be taken off but can’t in the open driveway with random people walking in and out of the house. Your touch feels like feathers along Eddie’s skin, and it makes him just want you more with every growing second.

He accidentally bumps your temple as he grabs onto the back door handle that stood beside you, opening it roughly. “Get in the back sweetheart,” He says lowly, taking his hands and putting them on your waist as he gently hoists you into the back. It was a place of small haven for the both of you, and the reason why Eddie always kept his van so clean compared to everything else he owned.

When you’re in you hold your hand out for Eddie to get in himself, giggling when he shuts it and takes hold of your waist again, finding it impossible to stay away from it, his fingers dancing delicately up your top, slowly making its way up your ribs and to the underwire of your bra. Your small gasp of surprise only encourages Eddie further, his hand reaching to the top of your bra and pulling your tits out, taking your nipple between his fingers and rubbing slowly, your head throwing back to the side of the van as you moan with more vigour, mouth open agape as you breathe heavily.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re always so noisy for me,” He groans, pinching your nipple for a high-pitched cry, which you gave him with no resistance. His cock lays stiff in his jeans, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s able to wait before he cums in his pants, so his other hand snakes down to where your tights and knickers scantily cover your pussy, rubbing over your clit and hearing you cry out into the crook of his ear.

He does that for a few seconds, switching between making sure each breast sat peaked and awake for him while running your clit, the wetness of your pussy quickly bleeding through the thin layers that protected you, his hips rutting against your thigh as he groans in every rhythmic motion of his hips. Your lips are always on him somehow, and just as Eddie feels like he’s going to burst, feeling his orgasm starting to bloom, his hands travel to your ass, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squeezing before he huskily asks you to jump, your legs wrapped around his waist while you work on getting your tights off, leaving them stretch just below your knees.

Eddie drags his lip between his teeth when he looks down to your panties, the large spot of wet ever so distinct to him, even in the pitch black darkness of the night.

Finally deciding to relieve himself, Eddie uses the one hand he’s not using holding onto you to take his belt off and undo his zipper, moaning with volume as he takes his cock between his hands, squeezing at his base lightly, all the while staring at you, your eyes filled with intense arousal.

“Fuck me, Eddie, please,” You whisper, your forehead resting against his in a sweet manner of intimacy in the heat and sweat of the activity you were both partaking in.

He drags his cock slowly against the thin layer of panties, your moan making him twitch even in his hand.

“I— shit, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart, if you say that you miss me,” He says thickly, his fingers toying with the edge of your knickers.

Forehead still on his, you kiss his cheek gently, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth and then to his lips when you reply, that twinkle in your eyes returned and brighter than ever in the darkness of the back of Eddie’s van. “I miss you Eddie. Jesus fuck, I’ve missed you every day. Not one day I didn’t think about you.”

He seems satisfied with the answer, kissing gently on your lips while he puts your panties to one side, delicately prodding your hole with his finger, and you clenched around him perfectly, dripping wet and waiting for his cock to fill you up all the way.

You both moan loudly when Eddie ruts his hips up, thrusting all the way. He swore he’d never forget how perfect you feel, how you managed to always fit him just perfectly, the right fit for him, but with him inside you once again for the first time in a few tears, it’s like a memory that had come to life once more.

He thrusts with a consistent confident pace, your mouths conjoined to silence the sounds of panting and morning as the van rocked back and forth as he fucked you against the sound of the van, your hands occasionally pulling on his hair when he ruts deeply to your sweet spot.

When you throw your head to the side, your moans getting more pant-like and heavy, and Eddie remembers your queue that you were close, and he was determined not to cum until he had satisfied you entirely.

“Come on baby, I know you wanna come for me. Miss me—fuck, miss me so much you’ll be such a good girl and cum just for me, yeah?” He grunts, his speech coming in time with his thrusts, and your loud moan in response tells him you’re close, really close, his thumb coming to massage circles onto your clit once more.

You moan again, tugging on Eddie’s hair, “I’m gonna cum Eddie.”

He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Cum then, sweetheart. Make me proud,” And it undoes your knot, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami wave, Eddie feeling himself come undone just when he feels your juices drip down his cock and onto the thighs of his jeans, riding out his high with you by rocking gently, slowly coming to a stop when your moans run out and you tiredly hang your head into Eddie’s neck.

Kissing you once again when he pulls out, a whine of sensitivity leaving your mouth, he pulls your knickers and tights back up, stuffing himself back into his jeans before taking your hand and sitting you down on the small black loveseat he had bought for the band whenever they had practice.

Your head rest against his shoulder, hands mindlessly playing with the zip of his leather jacket while he strokes the top of your hair, pressing occasional kisses into it.

“I meant what I said, you know.” You whisper into the silent air, the van thick and muggy and smelling of sweat and sex that should have been enough to get Eddie out, but he was too tired to care. “I miss you everyday. And I-I fucked up, I know, but I wanna try again, with you,” You sat up now, looking at Eddie straight in the eye. “If you’d let me.”

Eddie smiles, full of love and adoration, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles as if they were made of gold. “I’d be stupid if I let the love of my fucking life get away from me like this again.”

tagging some people i love!

@will-on-the-internet @prettyboyeddiemunson, @benedictscanvas @indouloureux @lilacletter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson ansgt #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things fic #ruby writes

4K notes · View notes

spirantization · 2 months

Text

I need to talk about NATLA Katara because this girl has been on my mind so much recently. In another post regarding Sokka's character arc, I mentioned briefly how the changes to his characterization impact Katara's character in turn. Her adaptation has been one of the most heavily criticized aspects of NATLA; even people who liked the show often bring this up as one of the weakest parts of the series.

I've been sick and rewatching the OG animation and NATLA to see the adaptation choices more clearly (and also think about what s2&3 might look like). I've said previously that changing Sokka's arc meant that Katara's arc had to change, and that wasn't satisfactorily done. Upon rewatch, I have to disagree with my previous statements and the popular opinion about Katara's characterization.

Katara's journey in season 1 is about her growing into her role as a warrior, when she has spent her life being thrust into a passive role -- not able save her mother, having to listen to Sokka (as both her big brother and protector of the village), and not able to fight against the Fire Nation. The first time we see her, she's unable to bend; we see her consistently develop her bending abilities and her strength throughout the season. She confronts her past inability to save her mother. She stands up to Sokka to do what's right. She fights against the Fire Nation and protects the Northern Water Tribe.

Sokka's arc, as I've said previously, is about him struggling with his identity. He was thrust into a leadership and warrior role at a young age, and he's tied up so much of himself into what this means. His arc is about accepting that he doesn't have to be a warrior and doesn't have to be a leader.

It's a yin & yang characterization. Katara's place as a warrior, leader, and protector grows as Sokka's ebbs. Their arcs make the most sense when considered together. They're meant to be in harmony with one another. I see the intention of the storytelling present in their respective characterizations, and how they develop in connection to each other.

Unfortunately, so many people appear to have watched the first episode and either reacted negatively to the changes or stopped watching altogether. I've seen adjectives like "passive" and "bland" thrown around in reference to Katara. And on reflection/rewatch, I think that was the point: to start her off as someone who is afraid & weak in her power, and to grow her over the season into someone who is brave & adept in her bending. By the end of the season, we see a very different Katara from the one in the first episode.

It's alright if these changes didn't resonate with you and you preferred OG Katara's characterization and arc in Book 1 of the animation. They made a choice in the adaptation that was clearly a stumble for the majority of fans. Perhaps, now that they've done the work to get her there in NATLA from a different beginning, her season 2 characterization will more closely match her OG counterpart.

#atla #natla #natla positivity #avatar the last airbender #natla meta #i am on a one-woman crusade to change hearts & minds about the netflix adaptation #it's not bad it's just different

167 notes · View notes

irafuwas · 5 months

Text

Sebek and Silver - More alike than meets the eye

I know much has been said already on how Silver and Sebek diametrically oppose each other – from their handedness to their hobbies, and from their personalities to their poses in certain cards – but something I feel we also need to focus on is the one unifying point in their story arcs. Namely, their journeys to discover just who they are.

*This post contains light spoilers for cards and story content that have not been released on the EN server yet*

Sebek is infamous for his one-track mind. He dedicates himself to his studies, his extracurricular activities, and his training, all for Malleus’s sake – partly to earn commendation from the men he so respects, and partly to bring honor to his liege’s name. His endeavors are admirable, in that he is diligent, persevering, and earnest, yet rarely does he divulge any of his genuine, private ambitions.

Consider, in fact, that the very reason he sought to enroll at NRC was only to serve as Malleus’s guard, rather than for his own academic aspirations.

Though we’ve yet to learn just why he so fervently worships Malleus, perhaps we can trace this desire for his liege’s recognition back to a broader need to be affirmed of his worth. If you recall his despair at manifesting his magic so late, and how much it bothered him - hurt him, even - when Silver departed for NRC and left him behind, the great extent to which he values magical prowess is clear to see. And if we further consider how he so longs to separate himself from his human heritage – from his magicless heritage, could it be that, even more than the glory of knighthood, he simply yearns to find a part of himself that he – and all those around him – can be proud of, can find worth in?

For what is he without his magic? He, a mere half-blood, born amongst a peoples whose bodies thrum with a power more sacred, more ancient than the air within our lungs and the ground beneath our feet? I feel Sebek is so driven, so severe in his efforts to claim the right to stand by his liege’s side, just so that he one day might finally be able look himself in the mirror and say, “here, here is at least some part of me I don’t have to be ashamed of, that I don’t have to hate.”

And Silver, that sweet boy, how unerring, how remarkable is his selflessness, how his inexhaustible compassion belies the scant 17 years he’s spent awake on this earth! But when one pours out so much of oneself for others as he has done, when all that one does is for the sake of someone else, how often one loses sight of one’s own identity. Indeed, if I were to draw for you a map of the inside of Silver’s heart of hearts, if I were to plot for you his every dream, measure and record every aspect of his being, I scarcely doubt there’d be a single point you couldn’t trace back to his desire to make his father happy.

To that end, consider how we learned in Silver’s latest birthday vignette that Lilia began training him from an incredibly young age – when he had only just become conscious of his surroundings. A child that young cannot make such a monumental decision for himself - the decision must be made for the child. And so, we do not truly know if Silver’s dreams of knighthood are the result of his own personal meditations, or if his father, in his infinite folly, thrust them upon him, burdening the young child with an aspiration that would go on to consume nearly every facet of his life.

With the both of them being so unsure in their own identities, it's why I find it so poignant - and so apropos – that Sebek is the one to rouse Silver from his moments of self-doubt, time and time again. When Silver questioned his capabilities as a leader, when he wished desperately that he could change, that he could be more like his classmates, and when he, in his darkest hour, doubted even the sanctity of his father’s love for him – each and every time it was Sebek who liberated him from his great desolation.

It has to be Sebek - for who better to accompany Silver on his journey towards self discovery than one who must walk down the same path as he? Who better than his best friend, his brother, his reflection – his veritable light in the darkness of his own heart?

#twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst theory #twst analysis #twst #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #txt

166 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 1 month

Note

In the same flavor as Talon Tim? And obsessive Dick? You know who ELSE is obsessive? Damian. Who goes absolutely apeshit over Legacies and Mantels etc? Damian.

He hated Tim because he was in the way.

But what if? He TRAGICALLY wasn't in the way? And Damian arrived to his Father tearing the world apart looking for Tim? Distraught? Is thrust into TIM'S role as the emotional pillar of the family?

Well obviously, FINDING Tim would secure everyone's esteem. Tim would CLEARLY need time to recover, be grateful, likely hand over Robin. And? Look at all Timothy has achieved! Supporting his Father in his time of need. A loyal student. Even tried to AVOID bothering his father by creating a false uncle, much to his father's consternation!

Damian begins to look up to him. Join his Father in obsessing. It's how they bond.

What took Tim? Where is he? How was he taken?

Finally Damian find a clue. No time to waste. Goes after it! A Fae court, under Gotham. Timothy, blank eyed at a tea table, young as the day he vanished. Just after Jason returned. A few bruises still were they must have been. Truely, frozen in time.

The Fae chitter and mock.

But Damian is an AL Ghul. And he? Has brought cold Iron.

Soon he is throwing his target over his shoulder and escaping. Chased by furious Fae. He slams the gates Timothy must once have opened in curiosity. Making note to come back and weld them shut. His predecessor hangs limp over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

He takes him to his safe house.

Tries to rouse him. Timothy obeys commands but little else. For a moment... he worries he is too late. But, careful wording of a command get him an answer. Tim is simply deep and away, in his mind. Dreaming.

Wonderful.

That means Damian is going to be forced to learn MAGIC. Nonetheless? He takes care of his predecessor. And it is... not as tedious as he would expect. He could almost liken it to caring for his pets. Precious and reliant. Obedient.

He finds joy in managing Timothy's health. Picking his clothes. Washing his body, rubbing the scents HE chose into his skin. Timothy is improving. Looking to him when he arrives. Responding to motions and not just explicit commands. Listening to music.

Damian wonders... if this is what his Mother felt for his Father. If so, he is beginning to understand her actions, through his youth. His hands linger, longer and longer. Stroke warm skin, just to feel it. Pull Timothy close, into his lap, tucked away from the world that gave him the scars upon his skin.

Kisses his perfect mouth. A prompt that Timothy obeys. Damian knows he should not. But is he not a man? Is he not only mortal? Who could resist perfection? Who would NOT lick that tender skin, just to taste? Run greedy, claiming hands, down that body? Spread those legs and plunder, like a thief, the wonders found there?

Timothy makes such perfect little sounds. More alert then he has been in ages. Gasping and whining, little cries as he takes more then he should. Shuddering and clenching around him. Brief moments of clear eyed clarity in the spasming high of it, before drifting back into the mists of his mind.

And really, Damian has only one choice when he sees THAT.

If he wants to save Timothy, he truely has no CHOICE but to fuck him well. How tragic. Oh well, Damian will just have to make this noble sacrifice for the family. And, of course, take responsibility for his actions. Marry his Father's beloved Student-son.

Their children will be glorious.

-🐼🐼🐼

👀👀👀👀👀👀 this!!!!!! tim having gone missing as a kid and then damian finding him and growing increasingly attracted because of how dependent tim is on him and there's a rush of attraction intertwined into the helpless state that tim is stuck in!!!!

when damian arrives it's not to warm welcomes or open arms. he's not even welcomed with any sort of...attention. damian has never faltered in maintaining his face since reactions were trained out of him but he does feel a steady trickle of...discomfort when he stands by and listens to his father and mother viciously argue in front of him, his father all but demanding his mother take damian and get out of his sight, that he's not interested in this responsibility, that he's not going to entertain whatever little 'game' she's concocted to get his attention now-

and...damian knows his mother is not the kind to burst into emotional reactions. unlike him she has a cool head and is capable of hiding her temper and reining it in. but in the face of damian's father it's like all that falls apart and she's angry and spitting and hissing in low tones at him for his disrespect, for his words, for daring to talk down to her because unlike him she's actually capable of taking care of HER brood.

and her words, so low and biting with an edge of cold mockery just cause something to...shutter in damian's father. and with barely more of a word or exchange it is settled and damian is shepherded away with his father where he is quickly conscripted into his father's service.

damian is no stranger to back breaking work but even he does not acclimate to his father's methods quickly. everything damian does is a failure. not even damian's fighting prowess or training are enough to carry him through his father's service which demands mastery of arts damian...does not excel in. his mother had told him to learn as much as he could from his father and damian had come ready and willing but...it is difficult.

father is...a hazard. he's a hazard to damian, to others. damian knows exactly what happens when partnered on a mission with someone of a great temper or affinity towards violence just for the sake of violence. despite what the public believes, assassins are not mass murderers with a thirst for blood. they are people of a particular skill set that they have refined and polished to the point that they are employed to make use of those skills and talents. they're like artisans, painters, sculptors, and people come to them for their particular talent in the arts.

but...there are subgroups of assassins that insist on making risky maneuvers, doing things in the messiest way possible, disorganized to the point they couldn't find their own ass if they had to.

that's father. father escalates easy targets to the point that they're practically smears on the ground. leaves targets in pain and brutalized that damian often wonders if it would have been more merciful to just have ended them. damian does not revel in violence, he has a job to do and that's all it is. it's nothing any deeper than that. but father...father takes everything personal, behaves as though the actions of another are a personal affront to him.

damian had thought his father's actions were...excessive. but he never stepped in. not until there was a report of a kidnapping of a young boy. and then it's like damian could 'see' the shift that those words had.

it's the first time damian has to step in. often he is relegated to evacuation, tracking, making sure no civilians or police accidentally stumble into where father is conducting one of his interrogations (though beatings seem a more apt description).

damian is aware that there is something...off about his father. reports from his childhood, the words of his mother, the musings of his grandfather...none of it aligns with the man he meets, lives with, and follows. there is something wrong with his father. and damian has known that for awhile but its made more clear when he has to pull his father back and off the 'kidnapper' who turned out to be the stolen child's father who hadn't been satisfied with the custody arrangement done by the court system.

damian knew his father upheld righteous morals, maintained a no-kill order. and damian had been willing to submit to it to meet him. but this man...this man who had been clawing at the skin of a kidnapper like he was trying to lift a mask off his face while demanding to know where 'he' was when damian had already delivered the child into the hands of a nearby patrolling officer...

damian learns quickly when he needs to call in backup for help with one of his father's 'episodes'. grayson arrives to help him, he apologizes to damian, tells him that bruce hasn't had 'one of these' in a while, that they thought that he'd worked through all the triggers for this.

'this' being an incredibly violent reaction to the kidnapping of a child. apparently damian had a predecessor. a boy just a little older than him that had been the pride of his father, his crown jewel and though grayson never says that its clear that's what he means when talking about 'timothy'. about how sweet he was to father, how patient, and understanding, and how he was like a little ball of clay that had perfectly molded itself to suit his father's needs.

damian understands the pride of having a 'perfect' apprentice. often times teachers in the league had favorites they would show extra attention to in hopes of molding them to be their legacy. damian had never been one of those such favored students but he'd hoped with his father he'd...

father does not take the disappearance of his student well. he leaves gotham often, at the drop of a hat for the slightest lead that might take him to his missing student. it's why grayson is present in gotham so frequently, often patrolling with damian on the many nights his father is out and gone.

grayson confides in him that he fears the worst for timothy, ot that he'd ever tell father that. but...grayson says he knows that tim would have found a way to contact them if he were...alive.

damian does not understand the deep...devotion and loyalty his father displays. he tries to. he probes, asks questions and while he is initially rebuffed- it is the only thing father can speak about with some shred of calmness, the only thing that turns him into the man that resembles the legends damian had been fed.

'tim would do the same for me'. is eventually what damian's father would settle on. it's a quiet phrase said while damian is trying to sweep the shards of a smashed alcohol glass. it's said with such thick conviction that damian believes him. and learns that timothy had been one thing above all else. loyal.

timothy is the one thing damian and his father can talk about. the only thing damian can use to gain recognition, attention. others have resigned themselves to timothy's death. both pennyworth and grayson grow quiet and mournful at his mention. as the years pass the only one who keeps looking and searching is father.

and damian, having spent years with his father, serving as his robin grows... more than fond at timothy.

there's a desire in damian. to see, to feel what his father felt. to gain the approval of timothy and after all his years away surely he is no longer suited to the mantle and would desire to see damian as his successor with all the good damian has done.

father sometimes visits the site of timothy's disappearance, the last place he was spotted before never being seen again. damian has seen the surveillance camera still so many times its burned into his memory. timothy drake on a class field trip with classmates to a large, outdoor sculpture art exhibit in central jersey. damian had seen the 'parent copy' of the permission slip a million times, it was wrinkled and delicate from years of being carried around in his father's wallet. a flash of pain crossed his father's expression every time he looked at it, the little slip with his signature that had allowed timothy to go to the last place he was seen.

on the morning of his disappearance timothy had left the manor in a red crew neck, new blue sneakers, wide leg jeans, and a white baseball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes. he'd eaten a blueberry muffin that had left his lips stained a light purple for breakfast. and all he'd carried with him was a small sun protection stick (spf30), his copy of the keys to the manor, his handheld digital camera, and four individual twenty dollar bills for lunch and souvenirs that damian's father had given him (timothy had been planning to buy postcards for his collection). he'd been dropped off in front of the school by alfred at precisely 7:28, two minutes earlier than the permission slip had told him to be there. the bus had been set to depart at 7:45 but a few late students had made them hold the departure until 7:57. at 10:11 the bus had arrived at its destination, timothy wandered the sculpture grounds with his tour group until 11:45 when they took a break for lunch. timothy was seen on camera eating at the sculpture grounds restaurant with one boy and two girls in his group. he ordered the tuscan kale salad with chicken and no beets. he'd also ordered a small side dish of cut up green grapes, which wasn't on the menu, that he'd dumped into an empty to-go coffee cup. it was father's belief that timothy intended to feed the fruit to the ducks that populated the various ponds and lake scattered throughout the sculpture grounds despite the 'no feeding' signs. the last sight of timothy was him leaving the scope of the restaurant security cameras, staring down at the printed map of the grounds from the visitor's center.

following lunch the school had apparently allowed students to go off on their own to explore. something that hadn't been disclosed in the permission slip which father's lawyers had viciously used in their lawsuit against the school, holding them in-part responsible for timothy's disappearance.

damian studied timothy's case, every inch of it, with a fine toothed comb. he'd read the reports from the grounds, from the school, the reports from the divers that had been hired to search the lake because the school had tried to offer the theory that perhaps timothy slipped in and drowned though that was more an attempt to shift blame to the sculpture grounds. in the end none of it amounted to anything. the sculpture grounds were close to a rail station, a highway, were surrounded by woods, and close to a parking lot where the school bus of two other schools and their students as well as dozens of other visitor's cars were parked.. a million ways timothy could've been taken. and with no one accompanying him the lack of witnesses would have made the abduction even easier.

damian goes to the grounds whenever he can, often with his father on the day timothy disappeared because of some...blind hope from father that maybe he'll see something he missed the first hundred times he scoured the grounds. damian was not quite the same detective and so his visits are more...melancholy, trying to imagine timothy beside him, trying to think of where his mind was, where he went after he left that restaurant. damian is holding a paper cup of warm tea in his hands as walks, passing by the lake timothy likely stopped to sprinkle grapes into for the local wildlife, eyes catching on the light of the restaurant timothy had his last meal in, catching the eye of a waiter and...damian stops.

stops and recalls something father had told him about timothy. about how timothy preferred a low civilian profile, often being more agreeable, quiet, and obedient at school than he was as robin. and damian imagined that boy. small and nervous and so reluctant to question authority. and he thinks about how such a boy would never dare try to blatently break the rules in front of a place where so many workers and teachers having lunch might see and scold him. and then damian recalls the security footage of timothy walking away with his little cup of grapes and the map open in front of him...

damian rushes to open the map on his phone. and he thinks father has covered every stretch of the grounds looking for something, anything. its been years so if there was something it was long gone. but damian clings onto his theory with everything he has. and he turns his body in the direction timothy had been facing and searches for the body of water closest to him on the map. he finds it. a part of the grounds further away from the main grounds, across the parking lot to a quiet isolated part of the park timothy no doubt chose to be able to peacefully break the rules. and damian goes, steps slow and heavy, heart beating fast and hard in his ribcage.

the pond is small but reflective like a mirror. there's a single sculpture nearby nearly 30 feet tall and made of aluminum depicting women dancing naked and carelessly in a circle while holding hands. there is a small family of ducks swimming in a circle and making ripples appear in the water. damian is a fan of art and for a moment is drawn in by the fluidity of such rigid matierial. he walks around it in oervation, taking it from different angles. and his thinks thats likely what timothy did as well. entranced by the sight he would've held up his camera, trying to capture it in the best light, find the best angle. he would've walked circles around the sculpture trying to get the perfect picture. and damian does the same. but there is no revelation. no lightbulb moment.

trying to see through timothy's eyes can only take him so far. and then he remembers something else. timothy's eyes. damian has grown since he arrived. he's freshly 18 and nearing todd's height much to grayson's great chagrin. but timothy...timothy had been small. shorter. and his eye level would have...damian bends his knees slightly, lowering himself, trying to see, trying to see...

the sculptures look taller from this height, the shadows cast on their aluminum faces look sharper, harder, more pointed. they don't look carefree with their loose stances and thrown back heads...they look...tired. exhausted. like they're been dancing for ages and can barely keep themselves standing. damian stares. they have no eyes, no mouth, just smooth aluminum metal for faces, but the way their heads are tilted and angled, its like they're...pointing. damian imagines tim seeing the same...thinking the same. his little eyes following the direction and landing on a barely visible path that feeds into the woods. a path covered in leaves from the trees, a path not on the map, a path that when walked its like the sun has been sucked away. damian feels like its gone from day to night in an instant as he walks, following the path. his steps are slow and careful but the crunching of leaves under his foot make him feel like a deer that has heard the snapping of a branch. damian finds a heavy iron gate at the end of the path. it's rusted and brittle in some parts, and the large padlock keeping it closed is open and letting the gate lie open, just a crack. the opening is small, just barely enough for a child to slip through and damian has to suck in to get through, some deep animal part of his brain telling him it would be a VERY bad idea to open the gate further, letting it make a sound as it creeps open and alerting...something of his presence.

damian does not deal with magic. he is...wary of the arts given the users his grandfather had employed. it is not fear, he does not fear them. it's the unknown of what they could do, how they could compel. perhaps part of damian, the part that was a child had feared them once. and perhaps that is why he carried around a small lump of cold iron no bigger than his thumbnail. and perhaps it is good he did that as damian freezes at the sight in front of him. at the small figure seated at a wooden table littered with fine fruits and cheeses, the smell of spiced meats wafting in his nose, crusty, dark loaves of bread, jars of fragrant sweet jam and tall, crystal pots of teas.

damian's heart is in his throat as he stares at the soft, youthful face of a young timothy drake. damian feeling cold, shots of fear stabbing into his heart at seeing timothy's blueberry stained lips obediently drink at a cup of tea offered to him by...something. damian knows of fae, has heard of them. never encountered them though. but he knows about them, knows about how vicious and dangerous they are. when constantine had talked about them once there'd been a white, sickly look on his face. they were bad news. bad news. best to avoid at all costs and heavens help you if you caught their attention.

superboy who'd beat avidly listening had tried probing further, asking about their looks. and constantine had said they looked different for everyone. some people saw a meadow with cherubs, others little devils with horns in a burning hell pit, some saw imps with wings but damian...damian saw...balls of light attached to bodies. slender, naked bodies lacking genitalia and balls of light for heads the size of his palm that danced in circles, sang, cheered, cooed. and they were covering timothy like a colony of ants.

some were in his hair, braiding and playing with it, others tugging on his clothes and hands, nuzzling him and making sweet little sounds with voices like bells. some were cutting slices of bread and spreading jam on them, presenting them to timothy on plates as he obediently ate and drank and damian just felt the pit in his stomach grow bigger as he stared at the sight. he didn't know the consequences of accepting hospitality from fae but he knew it was bad.

at the very least timothy wasn't dead. if they hadn't been clearly charmed by him its very likely they would have killed, eaten, or enslaved timothy. from what damian could see they were just...playing with him.

timothy was alive...alive and unchanged by time and in the company of fae but alive. and damian knows the wise move is to turn around and call for backup, to summon a magic user. but the thought of outsiders helping to retrieve timothy, the thought of anyone handling timothy aside from damian...

it's stupid, its reckless, it's dangerous. damian could lose his life if he does it wrong. but he does it anyway.

the cold iron is just a theory, damian has nothing to confirm that it works. its just childhood hope and belief it will protect him and maybe that's what makes it work more than the lump of metal itself.

the fae scatter, shrieking, angry and pained as damian throws it at where they're concentrated around timothy to get them to break away from him, he picks timothy up and starts sprinting back the way he came.

damian can not see them when his back is turned. but he can feel it as they shift to something else. something angry, something hungry that chases him, nips at his heels, scratches at the exposed skin on the back of his neck, rips at his clothes. if he were anyone else he would have been caught, if damian had not trained in distance running while carrying half his weight he would have failed. but damian reaches that rusted iron gate, rips it open and throws it closed behind him just as hands, human hands with too many fingers and too pale to have blood running through the veins reach through the slots of the gate and attempt to pull him back. damian rips himself away and keeps running, arms clenched tightly around timothy as he takes hard fast gasps of air while sprinting down the path and back into the light.

damian rips past those aluminum statues whose sad faces are looking toward him, startling a family of ducks as he keeps running. damian's heart is pumping out of his chest and he swears he's never felt more terrified. his steps hit the ground hard, kicking up dirt behind him, his breathing audible to his own ears over the thumping beat of his heart. even with nothing behind him he still feels like he's being chased by some invisible force. damian keeps running, keeps going until he reaches the car and gently lowers a blank faced timothy onto the back seat. his skin is cold but he's breathing. damian's senses and instinct for danger don't calm until he's on the road more than halfway back to gotham. his heart doesn't start beating normally until he's crossing the bridge into gotham because here he is safe, this is his domain and not even the fae can change that. he's lucky a highway patrol officer hadn't pulled him over for speeding on the highway and weaving between traffic to put some distance between himself and...whatever was going on on those cursed grounds. grounds he would never set foot on again, let constantine, zatanna, dr. fate or the others deal with whatever nest or infestation is occurring there.

damian does not take timothy directly home. he doesn't feel...safe. ready. so much has happened in one day and damian just...isn't ready. and he wants to look. wants to have to be able to take the time to see and examine timothy because he knows the moment he hands him to father that he will never leave him alone again. father, grayson, pennyworth and todd have all had their moments and time with timothy- now it is damian's turn.

damian finds a peace in examining timothy. in drawing blood, in buying comfortable clothing to change him into, in inspecting every bit of him including the pink little cunt that comes as a surprise to damian when he disrobes him for a bath. timothy is quiet and no amount of handling manages to get out a reaction. damian would think him dead if not for the rise and fall of his chest and the way he...obeys damian's commands. he eats and drinks what damian tells him to, lies down when told, rests and sleeps...but does not respond. does not reply even when damian quests for an answer.

it makes damian...concerned. timothy had been so highly valued by his father and he feels a sort of...responsibility to do his best to help him. or maybe that was just an excuse he used to hoard timothy for a little while longer. damian gets used to it. caring for timothy, nursing him back to health, combing his pretty hair, dressing him in soft wools and cottons, pressing foods for the gentle palate he'd had to his mouth, watching him sleep.

its days and then weeks and damian grows..comfortable and possessive. he has timothy sit on his lap, he strokes timothy's hair, he holds timothy close while they sleep. and slowly...timothy responds, damian knows he does. he can feel timothy arching into damian's hand cupping his cheek and kisses to his head. there's a softness in timothy's eyes when damian speaks softly and sweetly to him.

and so damian keeps going, keeps helping, keeps touching, keeps showing timothy affection and care. and eventually damian starts letting his hands stray, wander. his kisses migrate from a forehead to the cheeks to the sweet, soft mouth of timothy.

during baths damian's hands are soft and exploratory, gently cupping and squeezing timothy's developing breasts and tenderly floating over his little cunt where damian's fingertips barely brush the area. but eventually damian gets braver, and he marvels at the fleshy pink of timothy's insides as he gently uses two fingers to spread open the lips and gaze at timothy's most precious area. damian swirls fingers, barely rubbing and only softly darting inside. he uses conditioner that is sitting in timothy's hair to make it softer to ease the slide of one of his fingers as it presses in until it hits damian's knuckles.

damian is gentle, careful. timothy gets wetter and looser the more damian plays with his cunt. typically damian would change timothy into pajamas following his bath but damian starts opting to leave him naked, toweling him dry and lying him on the bed while damian gently kisses his jaw and breast while pumping fingers into him.

damian does not fuck timothy immediately. only when timothy's body trembles and he makes soft gasping and whining sounds while seizing tightly around damian's fingers that he thinks about it. that he experimentally presses his cock to the softness between timothy's legs, rubbing the head between puffy lips and painting himself with sticky wetness, mashing the head against a little clit that damian always makes sure to show care to. damian is gentle fucking timothy, aware of his small body and the fact that his adult cock is much too big for such a small hole. but damian persists and pretty soon he is pressed flush to timothy, their pelvises joined as damian kisses the entrance to timothy's little womb. damian fucks noises out of his brother, moans, whines, the sight of little furrowed brows, opening mouths, and eyes that have the hint of awareness just before they roll back while wrapping tightly around damian's waist to keep him and his jolting cock inside him. timothy's insides are red, almost bruised while dripping thick globs of damian's release onto the sheets. damian kisses timothy's clit and puffy cunt with apology before slotting his cock back against the fucked open hole and pumping timothy full again until crystal tears fill timothy's eyes while he squirms with pleasure and makes desperate, sweet noises that damian kisses out of him while slamming their hips together hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall.

damian's fingers dig into timothy's soft thighs hard enough to bruise as he grunts and borderline growls while pumping his little brother full of his seed. damian has loved timothy for years and he knows the family will not understand when he presents timothy to them and they learn everything. they may even be furious at damian for what he has done. but that will not matter because damian will have done what was necessary for timothy's sake. besides, damian has full intentions of taking responsibility. he's no philanderer, he will remain loyal to timothy whether he remains in this state or not and he will be careful to take wonderful care of whatever children result from their coupling.

it's the least damian could do.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #damitim

84 notes · View notes

mayhemories · 1 year

Note

Is it possible to get a sub neteyam post? 👀

Who's The Mighty Warrior? (smut)

Anything is possible here. Especially after I got called a virgin (derogatory) >:( Big thank you to wife @neytirqs for listening to me complain about literally everything, ponder sub!neteyam and conceptualise this silly little fic.

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Smut, swearing, bondage, thigh riding, etc. Sub!Neteyam. !!Minors DNI!! Aged Up!Neteyam, obviously. No funny business about that, if you don’t like it just don’t read it.

Words: 1.7k this is short and shit tbh.

Author’s Notes: Female reader, she/her pronouns used. I’ve never actually written Sub/dom smut before so sorry if I got something wrong. Neteyam is twenty-one or twenty-two here, reader would be the same age. Omaticaya!Reader.

Taglist: @lilprettypetite @nyotamalfoy @weasleytwinwheezes @aonungs-tsahik @rainbowsocks @glitterandgoldfinds @bluealiensimp @melsunshine @ussoppl @wondxrgurll @luvlykrispy @myheartfollower @gloryavila @itssiaaax @mashiromochi @punkrockrogers @simpforboys @casiia @oh-austin

Read Under Cut:

Neteyam was so used to being in charge. He was always in control, always responsible. He was the son of Toruk Macto, next in line for the leadership of his clan, constantly help to raise his own siblings, Neteyam was used to responsibility and leadership being thrust upon him, from helping at home while he was well into his adult life, to being expected to train every hunter to an incredibly high standard, Neteyam was always in charge.

Training. That was how he had met you, you in all your domineering glory. He remembered you from his own hunter training, you became a woman the same year he became a man. And although you were always nice, hard-working and cordial, Neteyam did not notice you much. Then all of a sudden, Neteyam only noticed you, especially when the two of you were working in such close quarters together, training the new, young recruits together. Neteyam could not help but see how your breasts had swelled, how your hips had filled out and how your ass grew over the years.

You were stunning, and most men had begin to notice you, too.

You were so bossy, so demanding. No one had really bossed Neteyam around before, besides his dad, and even that petered out in his adult life.

“Neteyam!” As if his thoughts of you summoned your form to him, you began to push him around in the empty training equipment tent. “How many times do I have to ask you to teach them how to clean their weapons?”

Your slender but controlling fingers found his shoulder, giving him a slight but playful push. Neteyam knew you had no idea what you did to him. The shove almost had him moaning, the contact alone was enough to send his hot blood pumping to between his legs. He hoped you just wouldn’t notice.

You knew the affect you had on Neteyam, it was rather obvious. Teasing him and riling him up was one of your favourite parts of your day, why you would always offer to take rounds and shifts with him. Didn’t hurt that he was easily the most attractive male in the clan, either. At first you thought maybe he was a little eager, ready to jump your bones, too. So, more often than not you’d bend right over in front of him, play a little innocent, a little naive. But you quickly realised, Neteyam liked when you were mean to him.

You noticed it first when you were overtired and had a long day and just snapped at him.

“Eywa damn it! Pull your damn head in, Neteyam. Do not make me come over there and do it for you!”

You swore you heard him whimper, and when you pushed past him you couldn’t help but to notice the buldge starting to form. Ever since then, you made it your mission to boss the poor boy around, until something came of it.

You were too close to him, your body radiating so much heat, Neteyam was certain he was going to pass out. He was normally so sure of himself, you just undid him, unravelled his mind and left him bare. Shoulder to shoulder, you were driving him crazy. God, Neteyam knew he was a horny little shit, he knew it, but he didn’t quite realise the gravity of the situation, the sway you held over him, he wanted to do nothing more but to please you. Despite his raging, growing boner, Neteyam tried to work quietly alongside you, repairing the arrows as you inspected his work.

You watched silently, as Neteyam tried to continue with the task at hand. You swallowed you own smile down as you could see Neteyam’s thick boner pressing against the work table, desperate to free itself from the confines of his loincloth.

“Neteyam.” You saw how the young man shuddered, and you couldn’t help the smirk that found its way to your face. “You’re distracted.” You tried to will your voice to sound harsh, sound critical.

He felt like all the wind was kicked out of his lungs as you turned your body to face him, and it all clicked at once, as he saw your eyes go from his obvious hard-on to his abs and face. You knew what you were doing to him, and you were letting it happen. For fuck’s sake, you were enjoying it.

That was enough for Neteyam’s cock to twitch.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his hands gripping the workbench, his head downturned. The scene was so hot. Something primal in you snapped as you realised he was playing into it too, he was for this, he was for you.

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Neteyam.” Fuck. Fuck, he loved it when you spoke to him like that, in that voice. He could’ve folded then and there. Only if you wanted him to, of course.

“I’m sorry-” Neteyam started to apologise, but you cut him off, shoving him in the shoulder with your delicate hand, once more.

“Don’t apologise to me, sit down.” Your tone was so firm, so demanding. So fucking bossy and Neteyam couldn’t help the moan that fell from his lips. He watched as you smirked and pointed to the chair sitting in the corner of the empty tent.

Neteyam’s cock was uncomfortably hard now, straining against the fabric as he sat in the well-worn, wooden chair. He sat quietly, watching as you walked around the tent, searching for something, he was desperate for your attention again, but he knew you’d make him pay for any kind of bratty behaviour, so he waited. Your tail flicked back and forth, excitedly, playfully. Neteyam felt his own mirror your excitement.

He could feel his heart beating loudly, it rang up from his chest and nestled its way into his ears, as you sauntered towards him, hips and tail swishing, a length of rope used to tame ikran in your experienced hands. Neteyam swallowed the lump that emerged in his throat at the sight of it, at the sight of you.

“Sit up straight for me big boy.” You smiled and Neteyam blushed at the sounds of his own whimpers as he strictly followed your commands. “Hands behind your back, just like that baby.” The lewd noises you coaxed from him would typically be embarrassing for Neteyam, but he trusted you, he felt safe with you. Especially when you had his hands tied at the wrists behind his back. His shoulders and upper body roped down to the back of the chair, Neteyam was all yours, and he was so fucking grateful for it.

You stepped back to admire your handiwork, chuckling. Neteyam, the cool and collected golden boy was bound, his head flung back, eyes squeezed shut, pre-cum leaking from his still-clothed cock.

"Who's the mighty warrior?" You said pointedly, though there was no real venom in it. The mighty warrior was mewling, for you, because of you. It was enough to gather more of that embarrassing slick between your legs, fumbling with the ties of your loincloth you wished yourself to be quickly rid of it.

Quickly, you straddled his thick, muscular thigh. You settled yourself, moaning at the contractions of his muscles against your sopping core. Neteyam whimpered in response, your noises pushing him further to the edge.

Your nimble fingers clasped Neteyam’s jaw, moving his fucked out head to look you in you daring, bright eyes. He could feel himself falling deeper in love with you, with every passing second. But he couldn’t deal with the emotional tourmoil of adventuring that thought further, right now it was just hot, rough sex. The break that Neteyam needed, that he yearned for and had been edging for so long. He felt a knot tie in his stomach, cock so hard it was begining to leave a blissful pain as you pulled his ear close to your supple mouth.

“I need you to use your words, ma Neteyam, is this alright with you?” You whispered, your hot breath fanning out across his sensitive ears, they flicked in response, his tail swishing. You moved your cunt across his thigh ever so slightly, testing the waters.

“Yes.” Neteyam managed to moan out in response.

You cooed, seeing the perfect man so undone by your cunt on his thigh and some rope.

“Such a good boy for me, Neteyam.” You praised him, as the two of you moaned in unison, you chasing your high and Neteyam at your words you accompanied with your action.

Your clit became battered by the force you were rutting yourself on Neteyam’s strong leg. His muscles shifted beneath your sensitive core as he moved his leg slightly, providing you with more space to fuck yourself stupid. You lurched forward, the coil in the pit of your stomach coming to a burning, snapping speed. Forgetting your role momentarily, you held onto Neteyam’s broad shoulders, shuddering as your orgasm came swiftly, walls clenching around nothing.

Neteyam moaned again at the sight, you coming absolutely undone on his thigh, using him like a toy. But it was your high pitched whimper of his name that caused his own undoing.

You chuckled darkly as you noticed his thick shots of cum running down Neteyam’s own chest. Without thinking you collected some on the tips of your fingers, plunging them into your own mouth. Humming with satisfaction with the taste of Neteyam’s salty purge.

“I did not say you could cum, ma Neteyam.” You whispered, scared to break the sexual silence the two of you had created.

“I’m sorry-” Neteyam was out of breath, and you were out of patience.

Neteyam did not know what to expect of this fuck fest that the two of you ventured on, but you shutting him up with the softest, most loving kiss he had ever experienced in his young life was not in the vicinity of his expectations.

“I told you not to apologise to me, beautiful boy.”

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam smut #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar twow #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #avatar the way of water #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut

977 notes · View notes

aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 month

Text

Advanced Studies in Love

A direct sequel to Teaching Love.

Professor Sharp and his young lover make the most of their little weekend getaway. She may be inexperienced, but more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Perhaps slightly too much enthusiasm...

A huge thanks to my brilliant consultant and friend @tea-withjamandbread who is the author of the brilliant line at the very end, and also Maarty for her continuous support ❤

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

[FULL PCITURE]

Advanced Studies in Love (11.8k words)

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap (reader is an adult), explicit sexual content, oral sex, vaginal sex, attempts at humour, dirty talking

“I think that’s enough - we needn’t pick the entire forest, dear,” came the potions master’s baritone from right behind you. You weren’t startled to hear and feel him so close to you so suddenly, however. You were hyper aware of his body and his proximity to your own ever since the two of you awoke, your limbs tangled and bodies still humming with the pleasure you shared the previous night.

Aesop took the two of you away from the school for the weekend, so that you’d be able to be entirely alone, free to enjoy the comfort of each other’s arms without having to worry about anyone coming to disturb you. And disturbed you were not - the only sound in the bedroom of the quaint cottage was the gentle rapping of raindrops against the window, as well as the combined sounds of your arousal. Hands mapped out and explored the newly uncovered body parts, lips and tongues tasted at the other’s perspiration. Aesop broke you apart, and then proceeded to put you back together until you were reduced into a gasping, moaning mess.

And when he took you for the first very time, you immediately grew addicted to having him this close, to be so intimately connected with him in a perfect fit. Even now, as your hands were getting progressively fuller and fuller with ingredients the teacher told you to gather, you bit down on your lower lip in memory of what it was like, to have him fill you up so entirely. His body atop yours, hot and heavy, and smelling so good. Each small little shift he made in his position you could feel tenfold, your core quivering around the large, throbbing intruder. His hot breath against your breast and nipple as he panted at the sensations your tightness gave him. And once the pain and discomfort passed, all that remained was him, the pleasure he bestowed upon you, and the love that crackled and burned around you.

The memory of the drag of his pubic bone across your sensitive nub when he started to thrust within you, and the jolt of white-hot pleasure that sent a tornado of sensations through your whole self made your thighs press together unconsciously, and you knew your face was red as a beet as you let your mind indulge in the recent memories, your hands busy with properly harvesting the flowers and herbs.

You wanted more. You needed more. As much as he was willing to give you. And in return, you were ready to give yourself to him entirely - after all, there was no safer pair of arms within which you could be.

“Hm, look at you,” his voice dropped until it was nothing more than a mere rumble, his breath tickling your ear. How were you ever able to focus in his class, when such four simple words spoken in his voice made your knees nearly buckle right under you. “I ought to mention to professor Garlick just how efficient you are at harvesting plants - I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do so this quickly… It’s almost like you want us to finish up as soon as possible.”

You were frozen on the spot, your eyes closed, body tense, face hot and red, even as he pulled away with a chuckle, seeming as cool and unbothered as he was five minutes ago. “Think we should perhaps gather some aconite as well while we’re here - exams are nearing, students will come to beg Nurse Blainey for Wideye potions…” he continued as if he just didn’t make your heart beat the speed of a racing dragon.

“Half a satchel should suffice, I’ve got some more in my stores… Sweetheart?” he finally looked at you more closely. His face getting a bit worried, he came forward and closer to you once more, his limp somehow seeming less severe than it was the previous day. A large hand made contact with your cheek gently, and he pulled your face up to be able to look at you. The realisation in his eyes made your own flutter. It must’ve been completely obvious to him; your face flushed, pupils dilated, heartbeat elevated and easily feelable through his fingertips.

“Merlin’s beard,” he breathed out, his voice a mix of amazement, appreciation and something that sounded like a hint of… smugness? The potions master took a deep breath even as a small smirk played upon his mouth. Your gaze dropped towards his lips, slightly chapped and thin, but you knew better. These were the lips of a man who knew exactly what to do with them and how, and a fresh wave of hotness rushed into your face and through your body.

His large, strong hands proceeded to take hold of your hips, kneading the flesh on them rather roughly, and prompting a small gasp to leave your lips. “No way,” he spoke again, amazement still palpable with his tone, but his mouth spread wider, the look in his eyes got darker. Suddenly, he turned quickly, still holding your hips in a vice grip. Your back made sudden (but not very hard) contact with the bark of a tree trunk, and not a second later was his strong body pressing you further against the wood. Your knees shook and threatened to give out.

A pair of hot lips chased your own down in a heated, fervent kiss, one that you hungrily reciprocated. Or tried your best to, at least. A clever tongue invaded your mouth and you felt yourself getting drunk on Aesop’s taste. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you moaned into the kiss, prompting him to pull back somewhat, before diving back in. After several minutes of fervent assault on your mouth that left you gasping for air, his kisses got sweeter, softer, less frantic, until they stopped altogether, and he simply remained in your personal space, his nose brushing against your own, your hot breaths mingling, and cool the saliva glistening on your lips.

Aesop smiled once more, the smugness replaced by amazement again: “Bloody hell,” he whispered, “I can’t even remember the last time I was able to… Get such a reaction out of a woman with just my words…”

His voice was calm and sweet, but you could hear the hint of hunger inside it. But even if you hadn’t, it was so very obvious in his eyes. He craved you as much as you craved him, maybe even more. How was he able to restrain himself, when you weren’t certain you would be able to say ‘no’ if he wanted to take you right now against this very tree, was beyond you…

His lips teased at your ear, and tongue danced across your jaw in a slow, sensual massage, and you felt about ready to drop dead… Or be dropped on the ground and ravished.

And then…

The sensations were gone. Instead his hands gently cupped your cheeks, and he gave you a small peck upon your open mouth. The potions master grinned: “Why don’t you fetch some of that aconite we saw earlier by that little meadow and meet me back here. Shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes. Then we’ll be off.”

What.

He pulled back, the look on his face completely innocent as if he had not just made your brain shut down completely. “Off you go,” he prompted you to walk with a small swat across your buttocks, still looking perfectly proper and unbothered, but a single look down made you realise he wasn’t quite that unbothered. Smirking at him through the intense blush on your cheeks, you began walking in the direction he told you to, making sure to sway your hips ever so slightly more. “Remember to wear your gloves, I only brought so much antidote to common poisons,” he called behind you, him raising his voice like so further letting you know he was everything but unaffected by the several few minutes you shared.

You weren’t sure what exactly was his plan. Was he just teasing you, enjoying the power he suddenly had over you? Or did he find himself just as ravenous to continue your yesterday’s activities as yourself?

Nevertheless, you made quick work of the monkshood, making sure to pull the herbs out of the ground carefully so as to be able to get as much of the root as possible, and storing it in a new pocket of the magically enlarged satchel you were hauling around. You weren’t surprised to soon feel eyes on you, and therefore didn’t jump when Aesop cleared his throat shortly before speaking: “We’ve gathered a fair amount of ingredients today, more than I originally presumed we would. Therefore I think we can consider ourselves done for the day”

You turned to face him again. And your mouth opened in mild surprise. In one of Aesop’s hands was a small bouquet of wildflowers, ones he did not tell you to collect earlier. Though, judging by the way he presented them, you supposed there were no potions ingredients. You came closer, looking at him through your lashes with a smile. “What’s the occasion?” you questioned, taking hold of the offered bouquet. The teacher grinned: “I’m courting a beautiful young lady - flowers are an inseparable part of it. Although, well, considering our situation, I’m afraid this one is very very much overdue…” You chuckled in response.

“Come,” Aesop said then, voice quiet and so very alluring. His hand was extended towards you, and you wasted no time in pulling off your dragonhide gloves to be able to side-apparate with him.

After you got your bearings following the still slightly dizzying experience, you were flabbergasted to find yourself not back inside the small cottage but rather at… well, you did not know where exactly it was you currently were. “Uh, Aesop?” you asked, looking at him. The professor chuckled noiselessly: “What? I did tell you we were getting lunch in the small pub nearby. As much as I adore the stew we’ve got back in, eating only one meal all the time gets incredibly tiresome.”

You had to admit he was right in this regard. However, you were way more than a little excited to resume what you started in that meadow, making a little mental list of horizontal and vertical surfaces present in the cottage that might work for your intentions. “Oh,” you replied, “I thought… well…” His eyes connected with yours, knowing and mischievous at the same time: “Patience, my dear. You had a few nice ideas in the morning, and I had some as well, and we’ll be free to indulge in them in just a little bit. But now we need to eat, no point in dropping like flies due to exhaustion and malnutrition because we weren’t able to control ourselves… Besides, I have not cast a cooling charm on my poor trousers earlier just to now completely abandon the idea of having a nice lunch with you.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought of him having to cool down after your fiery interaction. He began leading you down a small path, and you soon heard the sound of people chattering and laughing. A small pub appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, nestled cosily among the trees. A couple of horses were whinnying nearby, standing some way in front of you on a dirt road and secured to a cart, out of which a gentleman was currently taking out a wooden crate to most likely deposit inside the pub.

“You two,” an older woman called at you from where she was standing by the door, “have you come to eat?” “That we have,” confirmed Aesop next to you, already leading you towards one of the nearby outside tables. The woman came closer, her hands behind her back. “Before we order,” said the potions master as you sat down onto the bench before the table, “would you please have a vase to lend us for a bit?” —

While Aesop busied himself sorting out the ingredients you collected earlier (“Trust me, while I’d love nothing more than throwing you on that bed right now, if these are not sorted and stored correctly, they’ll be rendered pretty much useless by the time we get back to the castle - professor Weasley knows I don’t make storing mistakes…”, he said), you took in the room once more. Such a curious place - not two things fit together, and it wasn’t exactly tidy, but it held an aura of peace, of comfort. And after yesterday (and hopefully today, and perhaps a bit tomorrow too), you knew you’d always regard this place with a special kind of affection. A place of love and passion, of discoveries, of tenderness. Your eyes once more caught the sight of the tub you noticed under one of the tables yesterday, and you remembered the plan Aesop proposed in the morning. Using your wand, you summoned the tub slowly into the middle of the room, making Aesop look up shortly from his work, which he laid on a desk on the other side of the room (after properly dusting it), shortly, raising an eyebrow. “What?” you grinned at him, “you were the one who proposed a bath. Although…” The tub looked spacious to you the day before, but now as you stood right in front of it, your eyes switching between the object and the tall man by the table, it no longer seemed that big.

“Although I’m not sure just how the two of us will fit in together.” “I’m certain we’ll manage,” Aesop replied with a furtive little smile, “why don’t you climb in, I’ll be done here soon.” And so you started slowly undressing, peeling your layers away and mindfully folding each article of clothing on one of the dressers. You felt his hungry eyes on you the entire time, and while your cheeks kept getting warmer and warmer, you didn’t acknowledge his gaze and instead focused on giving him a nice show, very slowly pulling your blouse over your head, giving him the perfect view of your chemise clinging to your form when you raised your arms.The rustling of him carefully putting away all of the gathered herbs and fungi got quieter and quieter, until it stopped when even the chemise was taken off and you were once more left in all of your naked glory, your body still bearing some signs of your passionate lovemaking yesterday. Your shoulder, in particular, held a perfect imprint of his teeth.

The tub was soon filled with water from your Aguamenti, and you proceeded to warm the water up with a heating charm. Of course, you had to make sure the temperature was perfect, so you were leaning against the tub with one hand in the water, arching your back ever so slightly and providing the professor who happened to stand directly behind you with a rather shameless display.

Finally, you turned to look at him, finding him gripping onto the edge of the desk, eyes dark and almost predatory, jaw hard-set. It was very obvious he was trying to stop himself from outright tackling you on the floor and showing you what you get for your teasing. “I think the temperature is perfect like this, but we can cool it down later if it’s too hot for you,” you chirped innocently, and began climbing into the tub. Slowly you let your body get used to the warm water, lowering yourself into a sitting position inch by inch. You sighed deeply once you were completely submerged, the water lapping sweetly at your shoulders.

“You, my darling,” Aesop spoke, his voice low with arousal, “are an impudent tease…” Yet he seemed a bit calmer now that your body was slightly more hidden from his eyes. Your only reply was a small grin.

You felt content to just lie back and relax for a bit - you wouldn’t admit it, but you did feel ever so slightly sore, and the warmth did wonders for you. The tub felt almost as if it was shaped exactly for you. How would Aesop fit in, you didn’t know. The man in question meanwhile, now free of distractions, finished up his work and systematically put away all of the ingredients you gathered, now perfectly organised and sorted, into a small trunk. You didn’t open your eyes, which you didn’t even realise you closed, even as you heard him slowly limping to where you were reclining in the tub. There was a low huff, and soon you felt his large hand upon the top of your thigh.

You looked at him to find him kneeling on his healthy knee, his chin resting on his free hand. “Did you know that you’re incredibly beautiful like this?” he asked softly, his palm sliding over the skin of your thigh under the surface of the water. Your voice was a mere whisper, the atmosphere taking on a deeply intimate energy: “Like what?”

A smile appeared on his ruggedly handsome face, and his hand rose from the water to stroke your cheek, dampening it: “Like this - flushed from the warmth, your hair getting wet from both the water licking at your shoulders, but also the steam coming off it, happy and relaxed. Completely breathtaking.” And with that, he leaned closer in order to place an incredibly gentle kiss against your pliant lips, content to just brush your mouths against one another for a bit.

He then rose to his feet again, using both hands to brace himself and pull himself up. A slightly surprised look crossed his face shortly at how easily he managed to stand up, but he merely shook his head in dismissal before beginning to shed his own layers. It was your turn to stare, as he once more revealed himself to you, and though his body was scarred and his leg lame, in your eyes he was the epitome of masculine beauty. You unconsciously licked at your lips as he bared himself before your gaze, his shoulders broad, chest strong, lean, nicely sculpted but not overly so, and so deliciously hirsute. You never knew just how attractive you’d find body hair, but the moment you saw him fully, you knew you couldn’t (and didn’t want to) ever imagine him without it.

You reached a tentative hand out, and he stopped folding his shirt to look at you. Putting the shirt away, he took one, two, three small steps over to the tub, so that you were able to touch him, and that’s exactly what you did. Droplets of water from your hand clung to the dark fur of his breast, and your fingers slowly brushed through it. The professor was breathing deeply, his eyes closed as you explored him again. You traced the shape of his muscles, drew a small circle with your thumb around his belly button, dragged your nails through the trail leading from there to his groin, prompting his breath to hitch and his lower stomach to twitch slightly. You then slid your hands over the sharp lines of his hips, before finally moving to undo his trousers and unbutton his pants.

You found him half hard already and throbbing gently, his pink glans just so peeking at you from underneath the foreskin which began to slide back with the member filling up. You sat up further to nuzzle your face into the coarse hair at his pubic bone, tongue coming out to taste the skin there. His scent was heady, heavy and musky, and you found it incredibly intoxicating.

A shudder broke through him at your ministrations, and you felt his cock throb again and stand a bit taller once more. However, just as you dipped your face lower to run your tongue over his root, both of his hands came to close around your head. You weren’t certain whether he meant to push you away, or pull you closer, and it seemed neither was he. In the end, he just held you to himself, breathing heavily, his fingers combing through your hair. You didn’t mind - far from it, actually. You revelled in his warmth, his scent, the salty taste of his skin as your tongue returned to prodding at the hairy skin of his pubic bone, and while you did want to take things further, you understood he had other ideas in mind for now.

“Soon…” he promised, breathless, “bath first…” he finally pulled your head back, and you were able to look at his face. He too was now flushed, his eyes darker than before, yet filled with tenderness: “You are driving me completely mad,” he said only before chasing your lips in a kiss once more.

He then reached for his wand which he laid upon a nearby little table while he was undressing and lightly tapped the edge of the tub. You found yourself squeaking quietly as you fell back a bit - the tub wall you were leaning against moved back, and the piece of furniture stretched itself in length and width, the water level dropping a bit. “Sorry,” he murmured with a grin, and, after ridding himself of the last articles of clothing, climbed in right behind you.

He groaned as he lowered himself into the water, pushing its level up again with his body volume. He then carefully manoeuvred you until your back was snuggly pressed into his chest, his long legs framed your own, his arms curled around your midsection, and his half-hard shaft was nestled between your bodies. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” you asked quietly, settling into the position. The professor only chuckled behind you, the flush fit of your bodies making you feel the rumble of his chest before you heard it: “I’ve got you in my arms and I’m sitting in a deliciously hot bath - how could I ever be uncomfortable?”

You let your head fall back until the back of it made contact with his shoulder. The professor immediately used this situation to begin pressing soft open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck, and somehow they managed to be even hotter than the water. A bar of lightly blue soap materialised out of nowhere along with a washcloth that looked to be made from silk. You saw Aesop’s hands emerge from the water to take hold of both items, and then he slowly started lathering your chest with the soap. In the fragrance of it you recognised iris and chamomile, a combination that was very pleasant on your nose.Dropping the washcloth into the water and positioning the soap on the tub’s edge, his hands started spreading the soap around the front of your body, leaving bubbles and pleasure in their wake. The large hands danced around your torso, the touch both simple innocent washing of one’s body, and also incredibly erotic, especially so when his fingers went to tease at your nipples, pebbled from his ministrations. You turned your head to sigh against the skin of his neck.

Once he deemed your torso lathered enough, he took once again hold of the now wet washcloth and started slowly running it down your soapy body. You couldn’t deny that it felt completely incredible to be cared for like so, and found yourself wanting to return the favour. You made to turn around, but Aesop’s gentle hands on your shoulders stopped you.

“I want to wash you too,” you protested softly, prompting the man to chuckle. “I’ll let you,” he promised, “but you first, my sweet. Relax…”

And so you did as you were told and let him very gently manhandle you so that he was able to finish washing your body. His skilled hands managed to loosen some kinks in your back you didn’t even realise you had. Perhaps you had them there for so long, you didn’t even realise they were there anymore. As to when they got there, well, that wasn’t a difficult question to answer.

The first year at Hogwarts left your body in near constant ache; rolling around, dodging (and failing to dodge) enemy attacks, getting banged up during the Keeper trials, and during your many run-ins with poachers, goblins, ashwinders, trolls, the bloody horrible spiders… You wept after the first trial in San Bakar’s tower, bleeding from multiple places, pretty certain you suffered a light concussion. You weren’t sure you were able to handle more. And then it became apparent you had no choice. And you stopped weeping. These days you were faster and stronger, honing your skills during Crossed Wands duels and training sessions rather than battling criminals and goblins whose number greatly diminished following Rookwood and Ranrok’s fall, but it would seem some residue pain remained.

Now however you sighed deeply as Aesop worked his fingers to relieve you of it… You wished it was this simple for his leg too…

“Lean your head back for me, please…” he successfully pulled you out of your thoughts, and without really thinking about his request, you did lean your head back. Soon a herbal scent hit your nose, and you felt coldness running down your scalp. And then those deviously clever fingers were tangled in your hair, spreading the soothingly smelling shampoo through your damp locks, prompting pleasurable gooseflesh to appear at the nape of your neck.

The professor washed you thoroughly, seemingly enjoying himself as much as you were. When he was done, you turned your head in order to capture his lips once more, your faces wet from the light steam coming from the bath. “My turn,” you whispered against his mouth before slowly turning around, mindful not to accidentally sit on his bad leg. Aesop was far less careful and immediately wrapped his arms around you again to pull you to sit almost in his lap.

Following a few more deliciously hot kisses, you looked up at him: “Will you turn around so that I can bathe you as well?” Aesop looked to be thinking about what you said for a moment before a little grin appeared on his flushed lips: “No… I rather think I like having you right here.” His large hands were squeezing the flesh of your hips, the tips of his fingers sliding to the curve of your bottom. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. Nevertheless you made it work: you reciprocated the attention he lavished on your body earlier, stroking his soapy back and massaging it as well as you could from your position.

You were hardly able to apply the same pressure from where you were sitting, but it seemed that Aesop didn’t mind at all. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, his lips slightly opened and face as relaxed as you only saw it when he was sleeping soundly.

Your hands moved to his front then, and they dipped into the bath before resurfacing again and spreading the hot water over the teacher’s hirsute chest, enjoying the feeling of the soft hair against your fingertips. You watched, deeply fascinated, how he reacted to certain touches. His breath hitched when your thumbs rubbed against his pink nipples, and the corner of his lips twitched when your nails danced on his sides, over his ribs. When you got to his head, your mouth latched onto his neck to press soft, open-mouthed kisses there, using the fact the professor’s head was tipped back.

And afterwards you returned your hands to his chest, except lower. His lower stomach gave a twitch again once your fingers once more teased at the trail of hair running from his belly button towards his crotch. Your hand fit seamlessly around the rapidly filling shaft again, and a gasp cut through the silence of the room. Aesop’s head fell against your shoulder, and his hands stroked at your back and hips. You gently pumped him to full stiffness again, feeling yourself becoming more and more aroused at seeing his cheeks getting even more flushed, his eyebrows arching up, and his face becoming a mask of pleasure.

“Let’s get out of here…” you offered, your voice nothing but a whisper, “I want to taste you…”

Contrasting his previous restraint, Aesop now scrambled to get out of the tub, though he made sure not to maim either of you in the process. Your wand left on one of the dressers, you automatically reached for his to find it buzzing pleasantly in your hand. It wasn’t the same feeling as wielding your own wand, but Aesop’s seemed nevertheless accepting to be handled by you. Casting a quick drying charm on the two of you, you once more put the wand down. Invading Aesop’s personal space, you put your hands on his now-dry chest and pushed him backwards. The teacher seemed content to let you take the lead, his cock standing to full attention and his eyes eating up every inch of your body.

When the back of his knees hit the bed, he swiftly grabbed you by the waist and fell backwards, both of you landing on the pleasantly firm mattress with a few small huffs. Exchanging another heated kiss, your hands slid down his body, the feeling both so new still and yet so familiar already. You then moved to bestow attention upon his skin using your lips, tongue, teeth. Aesop watched with hooded eyes as you slowly made your way down, making sure to pay special attention to places you previously noticed were especially sensitive.

And then you were face level with his groin at last, the large member throbbing every now and then, a small droplet of crystal clear fluid gathering at his exposed tip. He truly was impressively sized, and you wondered whether you’d be able to fit more than a few inches into your mouth. A gentle hand stroked at your hair: “Go slow, love. No matter what you do, know that I’ll be in heaven for every second of it, but I don’t want you to choke yourself on me.

You smiled at him gratefully before giving the shaft another few gentle strokes. And then, finally, you stuck your tongue out to lick a long stripe along his underside, from the root all the way to the dark pink glans, which made Aesop release a choked gasp. As you pressed your lips against him, you savoured the fusion of sensations. Underneath the faint aroma of soap you discovered the subtle taste of his clean, warm skin, his natural scent becoming more and more apparent with each swipe of your tongue against his member, soon overpowering the smell of soap and making you feel light-headed with desire.

A gentle hand landed on your head, and he once more stroked your hair gently, neither pushing nor pulling you as you explored at your own pace. You lifted your head then to connect your eyes - his chocolate orbs were darkened and clouded over by lust, and you held their scorching look as you slowly closed your lips around his tip and rolled your tongue around it.

Aesop’s head fell back and a surprisingly loud groan left his lips: “Bloody hell, (F/N)...”

Encouraged by this, you began to suck on the tip while stroking the rest of his prick with your hand, soon finding a neat rhythm. You could feel his heartbeat in the shaft, and you heard his breathing pick up considerably. Very slowly, you started to take in more of him, bobbing your head and breathing deeply through your nose. You were aware your technique probably wasn’t very elegant - your lips were damp from your saliva and you felt like you weren’t ever going to be able to really take in more than a few inches of him, your throat protesting mildly each time you took in more. Aesop, however, seemed far, far from complaining, soft grunts escaping his open lips, and his hand tightening in your hair without pushing you still.

You were becoming slightly more confident in your ministrations. However, this would come to bite you - or rather it would come to bite your lover… “Ouch! Teeth!” Aesop yelped suddenly, his body tensing giving a violent jerk. You released him immediately and sat up, already feeling panic and guilt rising up within you.

“Blast it, I’m so sorry, Aesop!” came your panicked voice even as you hurriedly wiped at your wet mouth. Your hand came to gently grab at the organ again, trying to see what damage you caused. “Where does it hurt? Will you be alright?”

Aesop took several laboured breaths, his own hand flying down to grip at his shaft. Then however-

A chuckle broke the silence, closely followed by another, and another, and soon he was giggling quietly.

“Over a decade spent as an Auror,” he said between giggles, “many many injuries, one life threatening, and this is the first time I’ve had to worry about my knob, bloody hell!” You couldn’t help it - your own laughter joined in, and you lowered yourself next to him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for,” Aesop answered once his laughter died down. His member was still hard and standing proudly and his hand curled around yours, guiding it up and down slowly. “Before the unfortunate accident, you weren’t doing half bad... I’ll be honest, you were doing really bloody good. Merlin, I- the amount of times just the mental image of you taking me in your mouth was enough to make me…”

You blushed under his words, your thighs quivering shortly as another wave of arousal flowed through you. “Shall I try again?” you asked, watching your hands working his cock leisurely. Aesop hummed: “Do you want to?”

You looked into his eyes. You did want to. You wanted to make him feel good, like he made you feel with his mouth as well… You nodded your head.

“Alright. Cover your teeth with your lips - like this. Takes a while to get right. The occasional scrape can feel fantastic, but a bitten off cock makes for a very unsatisfactory evening.”

“Oi,” you said with a light push to his chest with your free hand, “I didn’t go that hard!” “I saw my life flash before my eyes.” “You’re exaggerating!”

“A little bit. And again, the point is not to choke yourself or take what you can’t. A partner’s death of asphyxiation or dinner suddenly resurfacing on one’s privates are also not ideal outcomes.”

You chuckled incredulously. You had to admit, you adored it when he was being like this; cheeky. Humorous. You leaned in closer and gently dragged your mouth over his in a kiss, your joined hands still teasing him. “Hm… Just take it easy,” Aesop sighed, obviously enjoying himself again, the touching enough to make his eyes flutter and heart beat hard, but not enough to chase him towards his peak, “this isn’t a race, or some, I don’t know, trial. It’s just… making love. Experimenting. Exploring. Seeing what feels good for the other and enjoying ourselves. No rush, no pressure…”

You smiled at him again, using your free hand to caress his cheek before leaning down for another kiss. And then you slid down his body once more - his hand released your own on his shaft, and instead moved to gently stroke at the skin of your shoulder. Covering your teeth with your lips like he showed you, you let his glans slip into your mouth again and immediately started to suck. Slowly you returned to the rhythm you established before the little accident.

You alternated between bobbing your head up and down on the shaft, taking it as far as your gag reflex allowed, and focusing your attention on the leaking tip, your tongue sliding around it, teasing at his slit, even slipping below the foreskin bunched underneath, all the while your hand played with what you weren’t able to fit in your mouth. Experimentally, you let your other hand travel under the member to touch the heavy testicles. When you, very gently, squeezed one of them, a choked curse left Aesop’s mouth and his hand tightened on your shoulder. And to your own surprise - you moaned.

You were so busy minding your teeth, your breathing, so lost in your ardent exploration, you barely had time to notice yourself squeezing your thighs together like your life depended on it, trying to bring some semblance of a friction to your fluttering core. Without thinking, you released his length from your hand while continuing to fellate him inexpertly, in order to slip it between your legs.

Another soft moan was muffled by the hot erection as two fingers of your hand dipped between your drenched folds, soon finding their mark on your swollen lovebud and circling it like you recalled him doing the previous night. It was deliciously decadent, you decided. You felt the slightly bitter taste rolling down your throat as more precum leaked out of his cock, you were beautifully overwhelmed and completely surrounded by his smell, his taste, the only thing you heard were the sounds of his pleasure, and you worked him with your mouth and hand in the same rhythm that you were using to play with your quivering quim.

The sight of you, it would seem, was too much for Aesop. With a loud groan, he gently pried your head away, breathing fast, and you saw the large bollocks drawing up somewhat, and his cock throbbing heavily now. You unconsciously brought up your hand to wipe at your wet chin again and looked up at him with heavy eyes. “Fucking hell, (F/N),” the teacher mumbled, looking at you almost… admiringly, “you drive me mad, love.”

You were certain he could taste himself on your tongue and lips when he pulled you flush atop himself with his strong arms, snogging you in wild abandon, and the knowledge further clouded your already clouded-over mind. You wanted him, and you wanted him now, the nagging sensation in your core had long since transformed into a searing inferno, almost aching, you were desperate to connect your bodies again, to once more climb that mountain of pleasure together and take a leap into the pit of bliss below.

So, filled with anticipation and high on lust, you moved to straddle his hips, separated your mouths in order to grab on the large erection and guide it within yourself.

“Sweetheart, wait-”

Aesop’s mind cleared enough to see what your intention was and he tried to stop you. In vain.

Before he was able to firmly grasp your hips to keep you from sinking onto his length, you have already impaled yourself on it entirely. And you now knew just why he tried to stop you.

Burning pain in your most sensitive place forced a choked yelp out of your mouth and your entire body tensed. Fuck! You very nearly doubled over, your fingernails digging into Aesop's stomach.

“B-bloody hell, (F/N)!” Aesop grit out, torn between the blissful feeling of being completely enveloped by your tight (way way too tight) walls and being deeply concerned for your wellbeing, “you hurt yourself, didn't you?! Get off, come on!”

He was trying to push you off of him, though his hands lacked the strength they usually had. You did not want to get off. You were in pain, yes, you felt like you were going to split open around him, but you really did not want to call it quits. What if he didn't want to make love with you afterwards in worry of hurting you further? No, no, you didn't want to just toss the towel in like this.

“N-no…” you managed to get out, your breaths shuddery. “Don't be silly, sweetheart, get off, there's no point in hurting yourself!” Aesop attempted to reason, but you simply wouldn't budge, breathing through the ache and trying to relax around the fleshy intruder. After a few seconds spent in such silence you could've heard a pin drop, Aesop sighed.

The professor sniffed loudly through his nose, and quite awkwardly began shifting, slowly so as not to cause you too much further pain. It took several grunts from him and a few quiet mewls from you, but in the end, he managed to bend his legs at the knees and sit up on them. You cringed: this position probably wasn't doing any good to his leg. He, however, seemed more bothered about you still having your face screwed up in discomfort rather than his own pain.

A pair of comforting arms came to slowly wrap around your waist, his hands stroking the soft skin, and you let him enfold you in an embrace. The hair on the side of your head fanned slightly following his exhale: “My silly girl,” he said gently, rather than reprimanding, “did you think that just because we made love once, you no longer needed preparing, stretching?” You didn't say anything, only hid your face at the crook of his neck and swallowed audibly.

“Merlin's beard, lass…” he sighed, “you're young, fit… so bloody tight… it's going to take time before you're ready to take me in without preparation and feel no discomfort. And even then I'll always make sure that you're ready, every single time, because the last thing I want is to accidentally hurt you… Besides, I greatly enjoy pushing you over the edge with my hands and mouth…”

It was your turn to sniff, though you didn't raise your head from where it was resting: “I… couldn't wait…” Your lover clicked his tongue, his warm hands drawing nonsensical patterns over your back. “You, always so patient and meticulous in everything you do, and you throw it aside to make love with me? My sweet, if you weren't still all tensed up with pain, I would've been nearly flattered… Does it still hurt?”

Instead of answering, you nodded your head, your arms thrown around his shoulders loosely.

Suddenly, his warm lips connected with the skin of your neck, directly under your ear. Aesop began placing soft kisses and feather-light bites there, all the while still stroking your body with his hands. His coarse fingers slid from your back to your front instead, teasing at the curve of your breasts and sending ripples of excitement through you. “Try to focus on the way I'm touching you and relax… I'll make it better…”

You tried your hardest, but it was frankly difficult to focus on anything else than the discomfort. You were so stupid - of course what Aesop said made sense, why on Earth would you think that just because this was not your first time anymore, you were ready to just go at it immediately? Well, the books said the first time can be painful, but they did not mention the second time, so that at least played in the favour of your wit. Still, you should have been smarter.

“Shhh…” Aesop breathed into your ear, his hot breath on your sensitive earlobe causing you to shiver slightly, “stop thinking. Focus on my hands, on my mouth… “ You gave a nod and indeed tried your best to fully cling to the feeling of his large hands stroking your breasts, weighing them, giving them a little squeeze, before thumbing at your nipples, pebbled and sensitive. The amazing mouth attached to your neck, uneven teeth scraping and pinching at the skin, leaving hotness in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” you felt before you heard Aesop’s words as they rumbled in his chest. “You’ve no idea how much I imagined this. Imagined you. Not only in this position, but so, so many others. You’ve been driving me completely insane with craving for your touch.” His words were quiet, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you did your best to strain your ears to hear them. Because they worked. You were no longer so focused on your ache, and you wanted to hear more, wanted him to keep talking to you in that completely delicious voice of his that made you weak in the knees. Despite the discomfort, hearing him say he imagined making love to you in many positions made your walls flutter and flex around him, as well as further dampen with lust.

“H-how did you imagine me?,” you whispered back. An unexpected moan left your lips as a clever hand made its way between your bodies and slid to your core, curious fingers teasing at your seam which was so snuggly wrapped around the large member before coming up to gently prod and rub at your clit.

Aesop hummed, his fingers now fully circling the lovebud: “As I said - in all kinds of positions. I imagined taking you in my classroom many times - bent over my desk, leaving scratches on the wood with your nails. You sitting upon your potions station with my head between your thighs. Your back pressed against the cold stony walls of the dungeons…” With each new little fantasy Aesop shared, you felt the pain and discomfort lessening, and your core fluttering with excitement instead. And it was obvious recalling the things he imagined doing to you had the same effect on him from the throbbing of his erection.

“I imagined you sitting on my face and riding it while sucking on my cock at the same time… And hiding beneath the table, kneeling between my legs while I teach… However, that truly is only a dirty fantasy.” he chuckled softly. You weren’t able to chuckle, the deep blush on your face, the sensations of his hands, and his filthy thoughts voiced aloud making you rather unable to properly focus on anything else. And yet, you opened your (way too dry) mouth to speak: “A-and…. And everything e-else?”

“Everything else and more, my sweetest, I fully intend to bring into reality,” And with that he bucked his hips, forcing a choked moan from somewhere at the back of your throat.

“Mhm! How was that?” the teacher asked, pleasure dripping from his voice like molten lava, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. Slowly, you caught your breath, your brain fogged from the strong sensations coursing through your body. And soon you realised that pain and discomfort wasn’t among them. You felt impossibly full, like the night before, but otherwise the feeling of your walls stretched around his cock, big and hard, and the throbbing of your core and clit were making you crave more, more of that sweet feeling. Aesop’s hand gently stroked your heated cheek, thumb coming down to trace your opened lips: “Sweetheart?”

“It’s…” you took a breath, “it’s alright… No more pain.” Aesop smiled, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. “How do you want me? Shall I take it from here, or do you want to proceed with your original plan?” he inquired, the words hotly whispered against your mouth. You thought for a moment - Aesop obviously knew best what to do, how to make both of you feel good… But then again, you wanted to learn it too, how to make your steamy union as good for each other as you possibly could… Finally, you kissed him back before lightly pushing on his chest, motioning for him to lie down on his back again.

He lowered his upper body once more, looking up at you devotedly: “If at any point it becomes too much, if you get tired, or want to stop entirely, please tell me. You’ve nothing to prove, to me or anyone. This is about us, and will only be nice if both of us are comfortable…”

You gazed down at him, your heart fluttering with love - he was obviously aroused beyond reason, throbbing where he filled you, and yet all he focused on was your comfort and your pleasure. You loved him. Body and soul, in your eyes he was the most perfect man in this large, chaotic world. The love filled your chest, your heart, it was rolling through you like a tsunami, and it was this feeling that made your hands brace on his stomach, firm muscles underneath a soft layer of skin and flesh, and raise your hips only to bring them back down, impaling yourself on him once more. Unlike before, no more pain came, and instead two groans of pleasure mingled in the air as they cut through the silence of the room.

You repeated the motion a few times, each one becoming more and more familiar and pleasant. Aesop’s hands were now stroking your hips, fingers only slightly digging into your skin in time with your thrusts: “Oh, my sweet…” he sighed, his handsome face flushed and a drop of sweat glistening upon his brow, “find your rhythm, try different angles to make yourself feel good.”

Nodding slightly in agreement, you began rolling your hips in different angles, searching for that one spot Aesop found deep within you yesterday, the one that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your head. You could feel its presence within you, the friction making you aware of it lightly pulsing, desperately trying to guide you. In the meantime, you managed to find a pleasurable rhythm, one that made your breath draw quicker, your own fingertips digging into Aesop’s belly and the hair there. Angling your hips again, you suddenly felt like a lightning bolt struck right through you, like you were doused with a bucket of cold water, immediately followed by a bucket of hot one, and you gave a full-body shudder.

“There you are…” Aesop said, voice almost proud, “such a clever lass…”

You gave a long exhale and repeated the motion, the pleasure upon each roll of your hips making a little gasp leave your mouth, soft sounds that you weren’t able to hold in as you rode your older lover. Aesop’s hands took to wandering, and he was looking up at you in a deeply appreciative manner, obviously enjoying seeing you bouncing atop his cock like you did. The hands gently took hold of your breasts, enjoying the way they moved along with you. Calloused thumbs and fingers began rubbing and squeezing at the pink pearls, adding yet another sensation to the already bubbling and boiling mix of desire. It felt like every single place the teacher touched was connected by an invisible wire, and that all of these wires led down to your fluttering, drenched core. Aesop spread his legs somewhat, and you felt his thighs against your bottom as he braced his feet upon the mattress to be able to join you in your efforts.

“Like this, yeah?” he asked in a deep, throaty voice as he plunged his own hips against yours. You didn’t feel able to reply verbally, so instead you only tightened your fingers on his stomach and adjusted to the new speed he was gently introducing. In this new angle, while his tip was still brushing against that bundle of nerves within you, your clit was also rubbing against his pubic hair, increasing the sensation again.

“Oh by Merlin, darling… You’re so perfect like this,” he groaned, arching his neck somewhat upon a particularly deep thrust, “taking your pleasure, flushed in all the right places, so bloody tight.”

Aesop proceeded to curl one hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down and closer to him, all the while your hips continued moving together, bringing pleasure to both of you. He chased your lips for another kiss, this one not nearly as gentle as the previous ones. No, this one was heated, hungry, almost possessive. At that moment you knew that while he was sometimes still hesitant to make his claim on you, he was very much desperate to, desperate to make you his own, forever. You accepted his tongue into your mouth, and engaged it in a short battle for dominance before yielding to it, letting the teacher taste you, plunging his tongue between your lips in the same rhythm in which his hard shaft was disappearing in your quivering depths.

His mouth latched onto your neck then, biting and sucking, digits instead gripping onto your back and shoulders, not letting you move away from him. Not that you wanted to. You sped up your movements further, starting to feel that coil within your core beginning to form and grow tighter. Unlike yesterday, there were no vines of pure light and magic swirling around your bodies, but it didn’t make the experience any less intense or pleasurable. The opposite was true, actually. While you were getting quickly overwhelmed, your body preparing for an earth-shattering orgasm, you weren’t as absolutely blinded by the raging inferno of sensations like you were yesterday, and could therefore appreciate some things more…

Like the way Aesop’s breathing began to hitch, and the way his voice got ever so slightly higher when a soft moan escaped his kiss-bruised lips. The way his eyes (so, so bloody dark) began to flutter, dark eyelashes fanning against his flushed cheeks. The way his member throbbed and pulsed inside you, and the way his hips twitched, as if he was stopping himself from taking over for you. You were grateful to him, for allowing you to take control, for his restraint, for his love, for him.

“I love you,” you whimpered, your pleasure mounting higher with every passing second, your eyes boring into his, even as they grew slightly unfocused.

He could only moan in response, arms coming to wrap even tighter around your back, your bodies now pressed together, your skin, damp with perspiration, sliding against that of the other with ease.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the professor pleaded breathlessly, his face visibly contorting with pleasure as he got closer and closer, “come on, please, come for me. Come for me, my love…”

And just like that your back arched, his pleasure-laced words tipping you over the edge and plunging you into a sea of gratification. You wanted to dip your face into the crook of his neck and muffle the moans that were leaving your mouth, but Aesop wouldn’t have that - his hands closed around the sides of your head, pulling you up so that he could watch your face, your eyes, so that he could hear you. “That’s right, my sweet... Mhm! F-fuck I'm coming,” he groaned, his own hips still rocking against yours relentlessly.

And then, suddenly, he used his considerable strength to flip the two of you over. He let go of your face in order to grab your hips again, roughly so, and started penetrating you at a hard, quick pace, all the while keeping your eyes connected while he chased his own climax, your own still crashing through you. It took less than a dozen hard thrusts before his large body shuddered atop you, and you felt his hot seed spill deep within you and mix with your own release. Your still contracting walls seemed to be intent on getting every last drop of him, milking him almost, and your thighs were shaking wildly on both sides of his hips.

Finally, the wild waves of pleasure began to subside, and sweet relief replaced them, little by little. Your head lolled to the side, and your lungs burned as you took in large gulps of air. Your body was tingling with residue bliss, feather-like shivers dancing over your most sensitive areas. Aesop’s body was pressing yours into the mattress, but you were far from caring. Wetness was leaking out of your opening as your lover’s shaft began to soften and shrink a bit, and your hearts started to slow down, beating synchronously against one another’s chest.

After a few minutes, Aesop raised his head from where it landed upon your chest, and connected your lips in a positively filthy kiss, all tongues and teeth. “I love you,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands once more coming to grab on your face, thumbs rubbing against the apples of your cheeks. You only opened your eyes when he pulled back, still a little unfocused from your climax. “You were incredible…” Aesop smiled softly. You thought he looked breathtakingly beautiful in his afterglow, hair all messy and slightly damp at the roots, his face and body still slightly flushed, on his face an expression of peace and serenity, like everything apart from the two of you was completely unimportant, if not nonexistent entirely.

“Abso. Lutely. Breath. Taking,” he whispered then, punctuating his words with a series of kisses placed upon your neck and your collarbone. You felt entirely boneless, unsure of your very ability to move. Then again, that might have been because you had a rather large and heavy former Auror resting atop you. Nevertheless, you managed to lift your arms just enough to tangle your hands into his hair, messing it up further.

A few more minutes passed before Aesop, very reluctantly, unsheathed himself from within your body. You grimaced slightly, once more feeling rather empty, gaping open almost. Unlike yesterday, however, instead of rolling to the side, Aesop scooted back to sit on his heels between your still spread legs. His eyes fell to your weeping opening, and he smirked ever so slightly, his now soft shaft giving the tiniest little twitch. And though you knew it was deep appreciation and attraction with what he was observing the proof of your pleasure, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed at the level of exposure, and unconsciously made an attempt to close your legs. Aesop, of course, noticed immediately, and, instead of putting his hands on your knees to keep them open, gave you an apologetic smile: “I’m sorry, dear - let me get my wand, I’ll clean us up.”

“S-sorry,” you called out to him, watching as he rose from the bed in all his naked glory, his limp, while still very much there, seeming less pronounced than it usually was. You couldn’t help but drink him all in. He truly was like a marble statue of some Greek god… Well, maybe except for all the fur… and the size of, well… “Don’t you dare ever apologise for letting me know you’re uncomfortable with something, or that you don’t want something. I mean that, (F/N),” Aesop replied, his expression deadly serious. Normally, this expression would be a cue for you to start listening attentively and take notes in his class. However, now it didn’t quite have the same effect, seeing as he was as nude as the day he was born.

So instead you cracked a smile. The professor couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, before sending the scouring charm on your spent bodies. He proceeded to deposit his wand onto the nightstand and once more climb onto the bed. He settled, once more, between your legs, bracing himself on his forearms next to your sides so that he did not crush you under himself again. “I really do mean that, though. If, at any point, something doesn’t feel right, you don’t feel comfortable, or you’re not alright with me doing something, please… Please, tell me immediately. I cannot stress this enough. Promise?”

You gave him a grateful smile: “A-alright. I promise. Though it’s… a little silly. One moment I’m, um, I’m on top and we’re making love, and the next I feel… embarrassed to have you look at my…”

“It’s not silly. My sweet girl,” the teacher now rolled onto his side and turned you towards him: “You’re new to all of this. Some things are within your comfort zone, and some simply aren’t. Some things will stop making you uncomfortable as you find your footing, and some things you may never be alright with. And that’s okay. It’s important we talk about things, and are honest with one another, so that both of us can feel happy and safe together. Do you understand?”

You nodded in reply, curling against his strong body and putting your hand onto his warm side.

“Is there anything you feel uncomfortable doing?” you couldn’t help but inquire curiously. “Me?” Aesop asked, a mischievous grin in his voice, “oh, absolutely not, I’m a lecherous bastard, I am.” A laugh escaped both of your mouths. “No, no, really. I am certain there are many things I wouldn’t be alright with, but that’s for the two of us to explore together. If you want to, of course.”

“I’d love to…”

You spent several minutes just holding onto one another, quite comfortable in your nakedness, your bodies warming one another and fitting, in your opinion, perfectly. Your hand coursed through the hair on his chest fascinatedly, and Aesop seemed content to just rest his eyes for a bit.

“I admire your self control…” You said after a short while, your hand leaving his chest and seeking his own that was resting upon your hip instead. The potions master didn’t waste any time and linked your fingers, squeezing your hand gently: “Don’t,” he replied quietly, “when you were bent over that tub, I was about this close to just jumping to you, grabbing your hips, and having my way with you right then…”

You shivered where you lay - the mental picture was definitely something you’d like to come back to later: “I wouldn’t have minded…”

A little guffaw broke through Aesop’s chest at your, most likely naive, words: “Now we know the situation wouldn’t have been a pleasant one for you... All in a good time,” he soothed, squeezing your hand once more and opening his eyes to look at you. “It might be a bit difficult finding time to be together when we get back to the castle, especially with NEWTs coming up, but… But I’ll do my best to be able to be with you. And not only to make love to you.”

“But we can do that, right?” you nevertheless asked, prompting another short laugh from your lover. “Try and stop me,” he said, grinning, “It’s just a few more months, and then… then we’ll have all the time in the world. No more hiding and sneaking around. Not a thousand Ashwinders or an army of Garreth Weasley’s clones intent on pinching all of the contents of my stores will be able to keep me from coming to you the moment I am able to.”

“I love you,” you breathed again, pulling him for another prolonged kiss. You were, once again, getting lost in him, in his scent, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his strong body against your smaller one. Aesop pulled back after some time, looking slightly perplexed: “I have a confession to make - what I said before - that wasn't entirely true."

You fixed him with a curious look: "Hm? What do you mean?” Aesop looked rather sheepish all of a sudden, his hand finding yours again, and fiddling with your own fingers. He looked down at it and took a deep breath: "That this was the first time I've ever had to worry about my... you know. After Scarborough, I was in so much pain I... Well, I was fairly certain I had been rendered impotent..."

You didn’t react immediately - you know how difficult it was for him to discuss Scarborough and its aftermath, so you didn’t want to deter him from confiding in you because of too much curiosity or too many uncomfortable questions, so you simply settled with: "Really?"

The professor nodded, still not meeting your eyes: "Yes... It was about... a year and a few months before I truly... felt any sort of stir, anything…” he finally raised his eyes to look at you, the look in the pensive, wistful almost. “Back then though... Back then I thought it hardly mattered anyway, because there was no way any woman would desire me ever again..."

You clicked your tongue softly, and carefully put your hand on his right cheek, experimentally almost, to see if he was comfortable with you touching his scar. You were glad when he closed his eyes again and leaned into your gentle touch. "I'm sorry…” you spoke, so softly he barely heard you, “You know I desire you greatly, right? with every single fibre of my being, scars and a wounded leg and all... but please know I would've loved you even if your suspicions turned out to be true."

Aesop’s breath hitched ever so slightly, his arms tightened around you, and he seemed to momentarily hide his face in the crook of your neck. In a voice so quiet you nearly struggled to hear he said: "I wouldn't even dare take you for myself then. I could not bear having you and not be able to satisfy you. I know all kinds of love exist, but… the erotic part of a romantic relationship is just as important as the emotional one.”

You weren’t sure you could imagine it properly. You were very happy just holding him, kissing him, being in his presence. However, it was undeniable that at some point (and you weren’t even certain whether that was before or after the two of you took the leap of faith and began your clandestine affair) you began to crave, and you craved him a lot. It was a difficult topic to both discuss and ponder, and while you were quite interested to hear more on what he had to say on the matter, you sensed that it was comfort Aesop craved now, more than anything else. Not to mention your brain was still swimming in endorphins, and it wasn’t exactly easy to fire it up again. So, settling for a lighthearted tone, you said: "As we both know by now, you do an excellent job of satisfying even without ever pulling it out of your pants,” Aesop snorted at your choice of words, “However, as we also know now, you, Aesop Sharp, are far from impotent."

"Oh, that I am..."

Another shiver broke through your body at his tone, so very different than the one before, almost like a low sort of growl.

And then his lips were claiming yours once more.

And Aesop would prove his perfectly healthy potency to you again.

—

Truth be told, you were rather sore as the two of you made your way out of the cottage. You both made sure the space was left neat and tidy (well, as neat and tidy as it was when you first came), that the sheets were clean and fresh (and they indeed were in need of washing by the time you prepared to leave), that the dishes were washed and sorted in the correct cupboards, and, of course, than no article of clothing or any collected ingredients were left behind.

You did notice that Aesop wasn’t reaching into his pockets for a dose of Wiggenweld potions for his pain as often as he normally would, which was curious. The man himself, however, didn’t seem quite this aware of it. There was a look of contentness and calm within his dark eyes, and his features looked even more relaxed than normally when it was just the two of you. Truth be told, you were quite worried that absolutely everyone would be able to know just what you were doing this weekend by just looking at your face, on which you felt a near constant smile, perhaps even a light flush.

The flowers he gifted you were safely stored in your pack under a stasis spell, so that you could display them in the Room of Requirement later.

The short journey to the front of the cottage, where there was enough space to safely apparate to Hogsmeade felt like a hike through mountains, difficult and harrowing, and yet it passed way, way too quickly. Both of you stopped in place, listening to the sounds of the forest and the wind, just sort of lost in your own heads.

“So… This is it. Holiday over,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. Aesop hummed in reply. A few more seconds passed before you noticed him putting down the trunk of gathered ingredients and turning towards you. His hands took hold of you firmly, possessively even, and he quickly proceeded to snog the living daylights out of you.

“We’re being a little ridiculous,” he said after several minutes, breathless. You gave him a questioning look.

“We’re acting as if this was some sort of ending, even though we’re at the very beginning,” Aesop chuckled then, fingers stroking your hips through your clothes. “I intend to keep the promise I made,” the teacher continued, “I’ll do my bloody best to ensure we’re able to be together, be it for just a few minutes or days on end. We both know what would be preferable, but a dose of realism is, I think, needed in order not to be disappointed all the time.”

You had to agree with him there. The term end exams were one thing, but having to deal with NEWTs as well would surely prove to be a rather hectic experience. “I’ll do my best too,” you in turn promised. “You make sure you complete your studies - I want no less than five O’s from you, because I know you’re perfectly capable of getting them,” he insisted with a small smile, “and after that…”

“After that we’ll be able to be together fully. No more hiding around,” you completed and Aesop nodded his head.

He then fished out a pocket watch from his chest pocket, looking at its arms shortly: “Come. We have to disapparate soon if we want to enter the castle’s walls by the time the dinner in the Great Hall is in full swing.” And with that he picked up his trunk once more. “Why do we want to arrive in the middle of dinner?” you questioned, unconsciously patting yourself down to ensure you had all of your possessions. Aesop connected your eyes, and once more were you hit with the sheer intensity of them.

“So nobody sees me dragging you off to my chambers, of course.”

—

“Ah, there he is - told you he’d turn up eventually,” said Abraham Ronen with a smile as he stood in the doorway to the Great Hall with Dinah Hecat. “Must’ve come back very late indeed, seeing as I was told Miss (L/N)’s bed was very much empty last night, and the young woman herself was only occupying it when Miss Dale woke in the morning…” the DADA teacher replied with a sly smirk. “Now, Dinah, don’t tell me you’re sending your Eagles to spy on each other are you?” spoke Ronen again.

“Not spy, merely inform me - after all, Miss (L/N) was away from school for the weekend, and I wanted to ensure she returned safely.”

“And it would seem she indeed did, just quite a bit later than originally expected.” “Or, she returned right on time and simply spent her night elsewhere?”

“Do you reckon so?” “Just look at him, Abraham. That is the face of a man whose dry spell just ended. And yet he still hadn’t shared the good news with the two of us… Let’s see if we can get a reaction out of him, what do you say?”

---

Thank you so much for reading. You can also check this story and all of my other stories over on my AO3 ❤

I love feedback 😁

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #my art #fanfiction #drawing #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #digital art #illustration #illustrative art #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp fluff #aesop sharp x you #professor aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #fluff

49 notes · View notes

luxtout · 4 months

Text

Flames Unveiled (Chapter 11- Lyrax and Me) Aegon II Targaryen X (Bastard Velaryon) Reader X Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After six years living away from Kings Landing, you and your family are summoned back, for reasons unknown. Your mother, Rhaenyra, has different plans for you. You swore to always protect your family, but at what cost?

Warning: References to / sexual content (18+), injuries, cursing, drinking, fights, angst

Tagged: @faesspace @a-beaverhausen @heavenly1927 @watercolorskyy

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

When Y/N Velaryon came into the world, the realm rejoiced. Princess Rhaenyra, the Realm's Delight, had birthed a healthy baby girl. Alongside her birth, a dragon egg was nestled in her cradle, slowly pulsating until the day it finally cracked.

By the time Y/N could walk or speak, she begged her mother to visit her dragon, always inquiring about its size. Whenever Rhaenyra took her, the dragon keepers marveled at the unparalleled bond between rider and dragon. When asked for a name, young Y/N could only think of 'Lyrax,' reminiscent of her mother's dragon, Syrax.

At the age of seven, Y/N first mounted Lyrax, following in her mother's footsteps. Lyrax grew rapidly, towering over other dragons his age, surpassing even Sunfyre. When they soared, Rhaenyra thought they could have reached the Wall, remaining airborne for hours.

Lyrax mirrored Y/N's emotions. When she was joyful, he soared, but when her temper flared, all felt the repercussions. Following the events at Driftmark, Y/N's anger was felt across the Blackwater, prompting Lyrax to break free from his restraints and vanish for months.

Upon their departure for Dragonstone, Y/N grieved deeply; the loss of her father and her dragon weighed heavily. For months, she scanned the sky, hoping for her beloved dragon's return. One day, while walking the land, a colossal shadow loomed over her, far larger than she remembered. Lyrax had grown immensely, still with room to expand. She granted him freedom to roam the skies, as long as he returned to her side.

The bond between a dragon and its rider is unbreakable, and Lyrax would fiercely protect his rider, no matter the cost.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

Lyrax roared as you adjusted your saddle, perched atop his colossal shoulder blade. His growth had brought such challenges as the expanding scales now scraped against the leathers.

"Lyrax, easy now. We'll fly soon, just... hold on." You panted slightly, the wind tousling your hair. Your insistence on tending to Lyrax yourself remained steadfast, but as he outgrew even your mother's dragon, Syrax, you realized the need for adjustments.

"Ah, ha! Got it! You've grown so much." You cheered, stroking his head affectionately.

"Sister, they're all waiting for us. Are you almost ready?" Jace's voice echoed from atop Vermax.

It was the night before your family's return to Dragonstone. Your grandsire's health had improved significantly, and Helaena convinced her brothers to showcase House Targaryen's strength by flying. Convincing Jace and Luke had been easy but hiding Aegon and Aemond's attendance proved more challenging.

"I'm done," you sighed, grasping the reins as Lyrax readied his shoulder for your ascent. Quickly slipping on your leather gloves, you shot a stern glance at Jace as Vermax soared into the sky.

You noticed all the dragons flying to the Keep, seeing as there was ample time for your approach. Vhagar glided leisurely, while Dreamfyre maintained a slow pace to accommodate Helaena. Aegon, arriving slightly tipsy, had Sunfyre trailing behind the other larger dragons. Vermax swiftly caught up with Arrax, and only then did Lyrax ascend from the ground. With a swift thrust, you soared hundreds of feet into the air, closing the distance to reach your brothers.

As Lyrax approached Arrax, he emitted a playful roar, causing the younger dragon to veer abruptly to the right.

"Easy, Arrax!" Luke's voice carried over the air, his hand soothing the dragon's scales. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"I'd never dream of such a thing, brother. But it seems Arrax finds Lyrax rather intimidating," you quipped, caressing your dragon's head, eliciting a playful roll of Lyrax's neck. "Shall we have a race to the Keep?"

Jace didn't respond, instead leaning forward as Vermax surged ahead, followed by Arrax. Lyrax lingered, then surged forward, darting behind the younger dragons and streaking past them toward the Keep, where Vhagar, Dreamfyre, and Sunfyre awaited.

Circling the balcony, you noticed the King, Queen, Rhaenyra, and Daemon standing there, smiling as the dragons swooped around. Hovering near the balcony, the dragons awaited the next turn of events.

In the spirit of fairness, everyone unanimously settled on a race: from King's Landing to Dragonstone and back. No specific rules were established, leaving it wide open.

All of you anticipated the King's whistle, which would mark the beginning of the race. The gusts of wind were relentless, challenging your efforts to maintain balance as it pushed at you from the side. The low, carrying whistle reached your ears, and in an instant, Aemond and Jace shot forward. Aegon, somewhat distracted, prompted Sunfyre to lunge a few moments later, while Helaena chose a slower pace, accompanied by Luke, who flew by her side.

Navigating through the billowing clouds, your hair came undone, thrashing across your face like tiny lashes. Aemond flew to your left, a couple of hundred feet below, while Jace soared to your right, high above your head. The flight to Dragonstone was never extensive, taking merely half an hour. Lyrax deftly descended below the clouds, skimming close to the water, leaving a faint ripple in his wake. Despite the race, you relished the tranquility that came with riding a dragon.

Moments slipped away, and the looming shape of Dragonstone gradually emerged. "Alright, Lyrax. Go faster."

With a forceful push, Lyrax propelled upwards, splashing water into your face, darting ahead of Vhagar, closing in on the rocky coast. Victory seemed certain, and without a doubt, you turned to flash a triumphant smile before circling the beach and guiding Lyrax to land.

Aemond followed suit, but the rest were still a few minutes behind. An uncomfortable silence hung heavy as you sensed his gaze fixed on you. You dismounted from Lyrax, allowing the dragon a chance to unwind until it was time to head back.

"We haven't spoken since—"

"No, we haven't," you cut him off, your eyes scanning the sky, hoping for any other dragon to rescue you from this conversation.

"Don't try to ignore me," he snapped, stepping down from Vhagar. His footsteps drew closer, causing your body to instinctively tense. Before he could say more, a dragon's roar echoed above, heralding its landing.

Aegon descended from Sunfyre, his demeanor sobering slightly as he noticed the tension between you and Aemond. "Using this moment to get more... intimate?"

You shot him a glare and moved closer to the water's edge, awaiting the arrival of your brothers and Helaena. Jace landed shortly after, followed by Luke and Helaena. They all took a few moments to let their dragon's rest.

"Dreamfyre isn't too fond of me, truth be told," Helaena murmured in your ear. "I haven't flown her in ages, by the Gods."

You hummed, observing Aegon and Aemond engaged in conversation over Helaena's shoulder. Although you knew you shouldn't worry, a slight fear lingered that Aegon might divulge details of your nights together, how he had you wrapped around his finger, figuratively and literally.

"Don't worry. Perhaps we can fly more often, at least until you give birth," you offered, gently guiding her back toward her dragon and yours. "Shall we head back?"

Everyone slowly mounted their dragons. Buckling yourself into the saddle, you felt the force of the wind against you. Lyrax ascended first, hovering over as Helaena and Luke took off, followed by Jace, then Aegon and Aemond. You followed suit, not in the mood for another race.

"We won the first one. No need to win the second," you murmured to Lyrax. He rolled his shoulders, seemingly aware of Vhagar's unsettling presence, keeping his distance from her.

From above, you heard Jace slowing down, matching pace with your uncles. Although their words were inaudible, they flew together, almost forgetting it was a race. You pulled up slightly, trailing behind as they circled the Keep once more. The dragons roared so thunderously; it seemed as if they were to invade the city. As they circled, you noticed Jace's face, flushed with anger as he spoke to Aemond. Before you could intervene, Vhagar suddenly lashed out, snapping at Vermax.

Chaos erupted as Helaena's scream pierced the air. Luke turned his dragon toward Jace, but you yelled urgently, "Luke, Helaena, land now!"

On the balcony, horror gripped everyone as Vhagar defied her rider's commands, chasing after the young dragon. Aegon hovered on Sunfyre, utterly bewildered. Reacting swiftly, you turned Lyrax, following after Vhagar.

You attempted to gain Vhagar's attention, yet Aemond's attempts to control her seemed futile. Gritting your teeth, you resorted to the word you dreaded, "Dracarys."

Lyrax emitted a small flame toward Vhagar's neck, diverting her attention from your brother to you. Urging Lyrax ahead of Vhagar, you veered toward the dragon pit, knowing that the dragon keepers might be the only ones capable of reigning in any dragon.

While attempting to turn, Aemond's voice reached you just as Vhagar opened her mouth, a vibrant glow forming in the back of her throat. The warmth stretched across the air.

There was no time to evade or shift position. Hastily removing your hands from the reins to undo the buckles, it was too late. Covering your face with your arms, the flames engulfed your gloves and sleeves, leaving ash clinging to your skin as Lyrax dove down. Drawing in a deep breath, you examined your trembling hands, attempting to assess any injuries. Fortunately, there were none, but the gloves and sleeves of your riding leathers had burnt, along with the right shoulder where the fire had hit the most.

In an instant, your eyes darkened with anger, the fury coursing through your veins. But Lyrax's bloodcurdling roar snapped you out of your trance.

"Lyrax, Lyrax, Dohaeragon issa, rȳbagon, kostilus!" You bellowed, attempting to rein him in, but Lyrax ignored your commands. He bolted toward Vhagar, flames erupting from his jaws and singeing the hair on her underbelly. Serve me, Listen, please!

Vhagar roared, veering across the water as Aemond shouted something in her ear, causing her to wheel back toward Lyrax. Baring his teeth, Lyrax prepared to defend, driven by his instinct to protect you. Fumbling at your buckles, you knew Vhagar was only meters away. Managing to unclasp one buckle, you tried to coax Lyrax lower, but he remained resolute in his course. Wrestling with the other buckle, you prepared for the impending fall into the water below, praying for survival.

The descent felt different without Lyrax. Your gut twisted in a sickening way, fearing your heart might burst before the fall took you. Bracing yourself with straight legs and closed eyes, you hit the water with a chilling shock, involuntarily gasping for air.

Struggling back to the surface, you fought for breath, scanning for any sign of the dragons. Sunfyre finally appeared, Aegon guiding her toward you as Vhagar headed for the dragon pit. Your lips trembled with the lingering rage as you bobbed in the water, waves rippling around you. Suddenly, the water behind you erupted in splashes, and waves surrounded you as Lyrax surged upward. Gasping and coughing up water, you clung to anything within reach as Lyrax lifted you back into the sky.

"Dragon pit, Lyrax..." You gasped, struggling to sit upright as he flew past Sunfyre and the Keep. As Lyrax circled the pit, you spotted almost all the dragon keepers armed with spears. Two carriages were parked nearby, one carrying the Queen with Ser Criston, and the other holding Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Aemond dismounted from Vhagar, and the Queen hurried toward him. But all action stopped when Lyrax landed, and you disembarked, still partly soaked and your leathers singed.

"What were you thinking? She's your betrothed!" Alicent's voice pierced the air, tears welling in her eyes.

"Y/N, Y/N, are you alright?" Rhaenyra rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she touched your skin, expecting severe burns. All she received was a slow nod. The cacophony of dragons' wings, the shouts of dragon keepers, and the whipping wind muddled your thoughts. Aemond glanced in your direction, trying to quickly look away.

"You son of a..." Before you could finish, hands pushed you back as Aegon swung at his brother. His intentions were noble, but to Jace, it appeared as if Aegon had tossed you to the ground, sparking Jace to slam his fist into Aegon's jaw.

It escalated into a three-way brawl. Aegon, after recovering from the punch, retaliated, pummeling Jace repeatedly until Aemond tackled Aegon. Everyone stood frozen, watching as Ser Criston attempted to break up the fight, to no avail.

The ground trembled beneath Lyrax's feet as he hissed, prodded by a spear-wielding dragon keeper, attempting to coax him into the pit.

"No, stop! Stop!" You warned, scrambling to your feet. Despite your plea, another jab made Lyrax react fiercely. He spread his wings, crashing them down on the gravel with a deafening thud. His roar, a sound you'd never heard from your usually gentle Lyrax, echoed through the area. Brick crumbled, and everyone around held their ears, except for you. You stood there, watching as he finished, his eyes darkened, and smoke seethed from the back of his mouth.

"Jiōragon isse, Lyrax," you demanded through gritted teeth, pointing a finger toward the pit entrance. Get in.

Reluctantly, he complied, moving into the pit with the other dragons. Daemon skillfully used Lyrax's outburst to separate Jace from your uncles, while Ser Criston intervened to calm them.

"What's the meaning of this?" The Queen demanded, darting between her sons and your family. "Aemond?"

Aemond clenched his jaw, swallowing his anger. His jaw was red, and his lip was split, which he licked before responding, "It was just part of the race."

The Queen wasn't satisfied with his answer, and she smacked him on the head. "She's your betrothed. You're lucky no harm has come to her."

Rhaenyra grasped onto your shoulders, steadying you against the chilling wind that sent a shiver down your spine. "Even so, your son almost killed her and her brother. How can I be sure no harm will befall her when I'm not here?"

Your gaze flickered toward Aegon, who bore the worst of the beating. His left eye was bruised, his chin and forehead bloodied, and his lip split in two places. You didn't anticipate him looking your way, yet in that moment, amidst the conversation between the Queen and Rhaenyra, his gaze remained fixed on you.

"What should be done about that dragon? It nearly killed my son–"

"Lyrax didn't intend to harm anyone; he was protecting me!" you retorted, causing your mother to pull you back. "He didn't mean it."

Rhaenyra tugged at your arm. "Jace, Luke, get in the carriage with your sister. We'll be there shortly."

Jace headed towards the carriage, while Luke whispered a quiet goodbye to Helaena before joining his brother. You hesitated to turn, but the Queen interjected, "No, stay."

Your heart raced, pounding against your chest. You swallowed hard, shooting a fierce glare at your mother. She nudged you gently. "She's my daughter, she's not—"

"The Queen demands your presence, Princess," she uttered firmly, her lips pressing into a thin line, her gaze darting to her sons. "What are we to do about this?"

"I apologize for my actions," Aemond spoke slowly, his voice filled with contrition, "for almost harming my betrothed and her brother."

Aegon couldn't contain a throaty laugh, quickly twisting sideways in an attempt to conceal his smile from his mother.

Alicent turned sharply to her eldest. "And what of you?"

"Me?" Aegon snapped, turning on his heel. His eyes, dark and intense, shifted from his mother to you. "She almost got—"

Alicent marched up to him, attempting to whisper but her anger seeped through. "Do you take me for a fool? You leave us vulnerable to accusations repeatedly... When will it end? She's your brother's betrothed..."

Rhaenyra pulled you closer, her touch bringing a momentary calm, yet the wounded gaze Aegon directed at you fueled Alicent's anger. Aemond drew in a sharp breath, staring into the distance, while Helaena kept her head down, trying to block out the altercation. A lone tear trickled down Aegon's cheek as he tilted his head to the side after his mother's blow.

You hurriedly stepped forward, stumbling over your words. "His actions weren't... I mean, he did what he thought was right... Please don't punish him for trying to defend his niece."

Alicent swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Let's return to the Keep..."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

Luke hugged you tightly, his arms enveloping you as he tried to shield you with his cloak. "Please write, Y/N."

You kissed his cheek, noticing how much taller he had grown. "I will. If you don't receive a letter, then you can worry."

Reluctantly, he released you, attempting to hold back his tears. Jace approached, offering a faint smile. "It's going to be so quiet without you..."

You stepped into his embrace, your flowing dress sleeves tangling with his blue cloak. "When you return, I expect to hear you speak more than a sentence in Valyrian."

"I will. Don't let them do anything to you... Remember who they are, what they are," Jace said firmly, pulling back and giving you a stern look.

"Who's supposed to be the older sibling?" you teased, nudging him gently.

Rhaenyra slowly approached, Joffrey at her side. "I think someone was too scared to say goodbye himself."

"Come here." You knelt down, opening your arms to Joffrey. He rushed into your embrace, expressing how much he'd miss you through tearful sobs. All you could do was comfort the boy until he finally let go, promising to look after Aegon and Viserys.

Fixing your skirts as you rose, Rhaenyra smiled down at you, tears glistening in her eyes. "Ao emagon grown ezīmagon such nykeā kostōba ābra," she said. You have grown into such a strong woman.

"Kirimvose. Nyke mērī hope bona issa jēda being kesīr, jāhor dohaeragon groom issa ezīmagon being nykeā sȳz future dāria," you replied with a smirk, holding your mother's hand as she chuckled. Thank you… I only hope that my time being here will help groom me into being a good future Queen.

"Unless ao kȳvanon va disposing issa, ao emagon olvie jēda," she teased, causing your face to flush slightly. Unless you plan on disposing of me, you have plenty of time.

Your lip quivered as you thought about the events of the day prior. "Will you take Lyrax?"

This caused your mother to tense. "Why would you want that? He is very drawn to you; he would only come back."

You dreaded her words, but you knew they were true. "I just do not wish for what happened yesterday... I don't want it to happen again."

Rhaenyra kissed your forehead. "What occurred yesterday... just proves you're a Targaryen..."

There were no known scriptures written by the Maesters about what happened to you. No known knowledge of a person being engulfed in flames and emerging unscathed, without burns or raw flesh. When the Maesters examined you, they remarked on how extraordinary it was—no wounds, just warm, almost hot flesh.

"Y/N," Daemon's voice startled you, making you jump. He approached, pulling something from his belt—an elegantly crafted dagger. "I know your mother would not rest unless she knew you were safe. I know you think you do not need it... but in these times, it's best for a princess to have this..."

You took the dagger, spinning it in your fingers. Valyrian steel, with a red and gold handle. It was simple yet formidable, a reassuring weight in your hand. "Thank you."

He hummed contentedly and walked away, heading toward the ship. The dock was slick, the water splashing against the bottom of your red dress, soaking your shoes. One by one, your family boarded the boat as sailors yelled, casting off. The vessel began its journey, swiftly carried by the wind, with Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax, and Arrax following suit.

"Shall we return, princess?" A guard's voice interrupted your thoughts, patiently awaiting your response.

"Just another moment..." you murmured into the wind, watching the boat gradually shrink into a tiny speck on the sea. Only then did you turn around, walking back with your guard.

The atmosphere shifted in the absence of your family. The halls seemed elongated, and the gaze upon you felt more intense than ever. It was late in the afternoon, and after leaving your grandsire's chambers, you wandered the halls thrice. He was in good health, insisting you enjoy the remainder of your day—an order you were both grateful for and burdened by.

As you walked absentmindedly, you found yourself traversing the same narrow hall where you had previously encountered Aemond and Helaena. Your fingers trailed against the cool stone walls, meandering close to a stack of wooden crates brimming with Dornish wine—unlikely to miss a single bottle.

You reached for your hip where your dagger rested, deftly prying open the top of the bottle. Once uncorked, you brought it to your lips, drinking with an urgency that sought to drown your sorrows in the sweet blend of wine. Alone in the corridor, you imbibed until the bottle was significantly drained.

"Y/N," a voice reverberated behind you, causing you to pause mid-sip. Footsteps approached your back, prompting you to slowly turn around. Aemond stood there, attempting to avoid your gaze, though your irritation was palpable.

"Uncle. What do you want?" your words slurred slightly, trying to deflect the brewing tension.

Aemond fell into a brief silence, observing your visibly inebriated state. "Are you drunk?"

Lifting the bottle towards his eye and then to your lips, you replied, "Perhaps. What do you want?"

He sighed at your attitude, swiftly taking the bottle from your grasp. "Listen. I'll make this quick..."

"Give that back—"

"I truly did not mean to harm you," Aemond started, putting the bottle of wine behind his back.

"But you would've liked it, wouldn't you? Seeing me burnt beyond recognition would have been more pleasurable than any other sick punishment you have in your head. Yet you faced no punishment, only Aegon did."

Aemond hummed in amusement. "You do care for my brother, but he is in no place to act the way he did, and you know it."

You remained tight-lipped, trying to keep your guard up. He was right; Aegon's actions exposed you both to serious accusations. Eyeing Aemond cautiously, you hesitated before sighing, "If we're to attempt civility, may I have the bottle back?"

His hand released the bottle, causing it to crash on the stone floor. His lips curled into a sly smile as he spoke, "I think you've had enough. Now tell me, why do you think Aegon acted as he did? Has he already gotten to you as I have? Or has he done something even worse?"

Your eyes darkened as you pushed him back harshly. "He has not! We are—"

"Fucking?" The word slipped from Aemond's lips like a snake hissing, a cruel smile forming as he watched your anger flare.

"You—"

The sound of shuffling interrupted your words, prompting Aemond to pull you back behind the crates. Your vision blurred as you collided with the wall, straining to see who was causing the commotion.

Aegon stumbled in, a handmaiden on his arm. She was striking, though older than him; her brown locks cascaded from their bun as his hands tugged at her neck. His hair was tousled, wine stains littered his lips and chin—details others might overlook, but not you. Their lips collided as he pinned her against the wall, and you sobered at the sound of their fervent passion, aware of Aemond's hand resting on the small of your back.

"Are you alright, niece? You seem shaken," Aemond said, his hand moving in a soothing gesture. The escalating sounds from Aegon and the handmaiden made your unease rise.

Quickly turning around, you muttered, "I think I'd like to return to my chambers."

You turned away, hastily retreating from the corridor and toward the main staircase. Your vision swayed as you attempted to climb the steps, but a guard called out from below, "Princess!"

He swiftly ascended the stairs, trying to ignore your unsteady gait. "What is it, Ser?"

The guard gulped, removing his helmet. "I regret to inform you at this late hour, princess. I've received word from the dragon keepers. A short while ago, Lyrax broke free from his chains and escaped the dragon pit..."

His words started to blur as he continued, detailing the guards dispatched to locate the dragon. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach, a sense that your situation was about to worsen.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

A/N: Thank you all for enjoying this story! I am so sorry for being absent, my life has been crazy with different events, but I want to write more often! I also have an idea for a new story that I might start working on...

If you want to be on my taglist let me know!

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #game of throne #daemon targaryen #aegon x you #helaena targaryen #aemond x you #enemies to lovers #house targaryen #house velaryon

78 notes · View notes