#but its a joy i can taste hints of that will keep me pushing and trying

[kitsoa]

I want that anon to know I hear them. I feel and understand thier struggle so well. I've felt the same. There isn't a day where I don't wonder the exact route to my happiness. That impossible route of creativity and stability. It's almost worse when you know the exact prescription for the woe. But it's also a beautiful thing that we know the exact things to satisfy us. At times it's out of reach, like now. But there are folks on this earth tortured with the constant pursuit of happiness without certainty. I think that's a sadder existence for sure.

[doumadono]

❛ you can't expect me to do all the work. i want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do. ❜ Dabi & f reader (whatever type you'll choose!)

Congratulations on your well-deserved success! You're an inspiration to me - I started writing thanks to you and I've never been happier. Please never change 🙏

Practice makes perfect - Dabi x Reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, oral (m receiving), f!reader Synopsis: Dabi evaluates your oral proficiency 😏 A/N: thank you so much for your kind words, dear Nonnie! I'm incredibly touched to hear that I've been a source of inspiration for you. It's wonderful to know that you've found joy in writing. Your support means a lot, and I'll always strive to be a positive influence

MASTERLIST

Dabi stood tall above you, his hands gently cupping your head, a stark reminder of the power they held, capable of crushing your fragile skull with ease if you were his enemy. Your jaw felt immobilized as his slender form hovered before you. Proximity brought you so near to his body that your nose almost brushed against the belt adorning his hips. His t-shirt was already discarded, and the subtle scent of salt clung to his abdomen.

"You know," Dabi's voice resonated above, tinged with a hint of menace, his palms exerting pressure against your cheeks, "You can't expect me to do all the work. I want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do, baby doll."

Retracting one hand from your jaw, Dabi began to fumble with his belt. Almost immediately after pushing his jeans down to his ankles, he revealed his semi-erect dick, gently nudging the flushed tip against your lips. "Suck it, doll."

Compliantly, your lips parted, a delicate submission to his prominent desire. With a cautious grace, you accepted the tender flesh into your mouth, a sensation that carried a subtle blend of warmth and vulnerability.

A complex blend of flavors greeted your taste buds - a subtle dance between the bittersweet notes of salt and sugar, intertwined with the delicate musk of sweat. The mingling scents enveloped your senses, creating an overpowering yet strangely intoxicating sensation. With your mouth slightly agape, your own saliva clung to your lips, and the faint aroma found its way to your nose, immersing you further. You moaned quietly.

Your eyes remained fixed on Dabi, your desperation evident as you longed for a hint of warmth in his gaze. A small shift occurred, a flicker of softness that touched his expression, albeit ever so slightly.

You bobbed your head back and forth slowly, your tongue skillfully tracing the contours of his shaft as you groaned around him.

His voice, a deep resonance, broke the silence, reaching your ears like a caress. "That's it, doll. Such a good girl."

In response, your palms instinctively pressed against his thighs, a yearning to draw closer to him, to bask in his presence. The compliment he bestowed upon you carried a spark of affirmation that ignited a desire to lean into his approval.

Your puzzled expression didn't escape notice, prompting Dabi to reach out and delicately tuck a stray strand of hair behind your reddening ear. "Keep going, princess, just like that, you're doing a fucking good job down there," he urged, his voice a velvety murmur that seemed to linger in the air. His dark lashes brushed down as his eyes traced over you once more, igniting a surge of excitement that sent your heart into a rapid rhythm and made your pussy clench around nothing. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, heightening your senses and propelling you forward.

You fixated on the now rigid contour of his shaft, the taste of his skin replaced by a mingling of your own scent and saliva.

His hands, simultaneously unkind and gentle, wrapped around your head once more. Dabi was toying with both your head and your heart, a deliberate game you were acutely aware of.

Under Dabi's guidance, your motions accelerated, your compliance unwavering. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a guttural moan, a mix of discomfort and arousal as the rounded tip of his cock abruptly breached the recesses of your throat with a throbbing force as he bucked his hips into you. The forceful intrusion left a bruising sensation against your hard palate. You fought the urge to gag, your throat accommodating his entirety, your nose pressed desperately against the coarseness of his groin.

A brief respite emerged as he withdrew momentarily, allowing your teeth to graze against him, a fleeting sensation that granted you an opportunity to breathe.

"Fuck, princess, careful with these teeth," he hissed lowly. Yet, without pause, Dabi thrust himself back in your welcoming, warm, slick mouth. He continued to thrust into your throat with an unrelenting rhythm.

Your head bobbed and jerked, devoid of any gentleness, a disorienting dance dictated solely by his actions.

Soon, he plunged himself deeply once more, his full length settling within you. "Fuck, take it, take it, babygirl."

You battled for breath while his pulsating member twitched and quivered, sending thick ropes of cum down your throat. All you could do was to moan.

Shortly after, he withdrew, his thumb delicately sweeping away a droplet of his cum from the corner of your mouth. "Impressive job, princess," Dabi remarked with a soft smile, his words dripping with approval. "I'll continue to train you further, doll. It's important for you to master your skills after all."

[riacte]

Weee more hermitgals precure au brainstorming <3

Stress: finding love and joy even in the most mundane of activities, it's the little things: a warm cup of floral tea, the flap of a butterfly's wings, the way light shines through crystals, the scratchy texture of a picnic blanket. Maybe not everything inspires creativity, but anything can.

Cure Allium? It's Stress' favourite Minecraft flower, and it can represent the decorative items of Minecraft— may be "worthless" in the sense of mechanics, but they breathe life into the game. (and the universe said you are stronger than you know)

False: the everchanging flow of creativity, water and ice and wind and snow, they're made from the same thing but they fill up space differently, big shapes and fluids, knowing how to manipulate elements and fill in empty places.

Cure Prismarine? Cure Diamond? (I know Cure Diamond already exists but I like her a lot and her song that goes "this heart is an unbreakable diamond heart, I cannot get hurt" has such a clutch over me. I am a Cure Diamond defender.) This represents the "elements" (minerals?) of Minecraft and how they can be modified for different needs. (and the universe said everything you need is within you)

Cleo: noticing all the little details that make people people, the creativity of connecting unrelated items to form a coherent picture, finding life in the undead.

Cure Blaze? I suppose Cleo is inevitably linked to fire because of their hair and theme colour. I think Blazes aren't an undead mob (?) but they're from the Nether and that's the representative of hell and monsters and undead and fire so... close enough. (and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing)

Pearl: finding coherence in the jagged mass of the alien darkness, weird and wacky but harmonious, moonlight shining through shadows, the creativity of clashing contrasting colours and elements together but creating beauty out of it, constantly pushing the limits and challenging yourself.

Cure Moon. I think that's the best choice given her yellow scheme. Her outfit is also a bit purple-y for the shadows and a bit rainbow-y for the pearlescent part. Her villain name is probably something like Lunar or Eclipse. This represents the End / the Void dimension of Minecraft, a place that seems dangerous but you can find wacky yet beautiful things in it. (and the universe said the light you seek is within you)

Gem: the whimsy and wonderful world of fantasy, the creativity of merging wild nature and livable places, beauty and elegance without missing a hint of playfulness, creating magical worlds from epic castles to cute hideouts.

Not really sure honestly? She has a nature / Overworld theme but it might overlap with Stress. I mean I'm not naming her Cure Birch. Or I might actually do it. For the birch forest bit. This broadly represents the Overworld, all the biomes and trees and plants. (and the universe said you have played the game well)

Ren: the improv storyteller, subtly connecting people and things together, the sincerity and shamelessness of being immersed into creating art (and the universe said you are not alone)

Iskall: the audacity to be brave and bold, daring to dream, daring to create, persevering, falling down and getting up and trying again, learning the rhythm of the slow gears that make the world turn, determined to keep moving forward but still goofy enough to enjoy the small moments of life (and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you)

And all of them together, their powers combined:

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

[crisalidaseason]

A retelling of Iron Flame p. 1 - Epilogue

The water trickled down his arms as Liam splashed his face with the cool water, making a mess on the floor. He skipped looking in the mirror right in front of the basin, going straight for the towel nearby - fingers dancing erratically over the fabric. He dressed silently but quicker than usual, not wanting to stay in that room for a second longer in fear he would grow mad - and also to avoid another check up from Aiseregh, Liam could not stand looking into those amber eyes without worrying about the other pair that had not opened yet. Avoiding the man was the only way to keep the waves of nausea at bay.

“Bodhi” Liam said as he opened the door, finding his friend about to knock.

“How are you today?” he asked, a frown of worry between the thick dark brows.

Liam had no idea how he felt. There was a turmoil of emotions behind a dam that he was not sure would hold for much longer. “I’m alive”

Bodhi pursed his lips, but did not comment on the answer “I came here to check if you had the strength to join us today”

“I feel less weak, I can handle walking to the kitchens” Liam let a humorless chuckle out.

Bodhi nodded and both of them walked side by side through the halls of the very house they grew up in. Liam tried to drown any sort of nostalgia from rising, his grief and guilt tainting all of the memories, but it was difficult not to see the ghosts of their younger selves laughing, of officers walking around in synch, the servants constantly organizing and moving. Liam felt his eyes burn and decided to avert his gaze to the ground, though even that was not safe since the patterns of art and runes sparked more memories.

“Liam” a hand clasped his right shoulder “stay with me”

He did not even notice he had stopped walking. Bodhi looked at Liam with a mixture of concern and understanding. He was probably experiencing things on a much worse level considering Bodhi had actually lived in Riorson’s house his entire life. Liam should be the one comforting and not being comforted.

“It’s okay” he barely whispered “let’s keep going”

Bodhi did not push - he never did. Their walk to the kitchens was silent and even the servants working there seemed to catch their emotional distress, keeping their greetings to a minimum. Imogen was sitting alone by the table, her eyes set outside the large windows, towards the mountains.

“Hey” was all she said at the sight of them.

Liam noticed Imogen had a few cuts and bruises on her arms, but seemed fine other than that. Unfortunately, her quiet demeanor exposed the major wound. A wound inflicted in all of them, with no amount of mending or healing to soothe its sting.

“Good to see you standing on your feet, Liam” her eyes scanned him just like he did to her.

Liam gave her a hint of a smile as an answer and sat down at the table, noticing the abundant amount of food. Any other time he would have indulged in the breads, the goat cheese and multitude of grain pastes, the fresh taste of aloe juice - all of it in such a familiar place - but not in that moment. He could feel the acidic liquid burn his stomach at the mere thought of eating.

He did not want to go through that again.

“Liam. You need to eat” a softness Imogen never displayed painted her eyes “please”

He inhaled slowly, trying to stop his fingers from trembling so much as he reached for a piece of bread. He noticed both of his friends had little to nothing on their plates, which made Liam feel less guilty about not reaching for anything else. He ate the bread with none of the joy he had always dreamed of, the taste bland due to his wicked mind.

Fuck, he wished he could stop thinking for a minute.

“Anything from Deigh?” Bodhi asked “Cuir says he’s still in deep sleep but I wanted to ask you nonetheless”

Deigh. Liam felt a tight knot threaten to push the bread out and had to breathe deeply to keep it in. The familiar imagery of his sunroom was covered in a soft light, the bright red sun hiding behind a milky veil of clouds, declaring his dragon’s dormant conscience, keeping Liam from feeling the comforting presence. He could feel their bond as strong as ever, but the hum of Deigh’s voice and attention was nowhere - which made the last two days miserable for him.

“Nothing yet, but he’s safe” Liam managed to reply “I don’t feel him…slipping”

He had to hold back a shiver after recalling the strange feeling. Liam had been too weak to notice it in the heat of battle, but his comatose state sent him straight to the sunroom. The sky above the glass stuck in the moment before dawn but never breaking the dark blue. He had been terrified, begging for the sun to rise again, watching as it oscilated with the vitality of his dragon.

“It’s a good sign, right?” Imogen asked.

Liam could only nod, not daring to say the words out loud in fear the gods may hear and take Deigh from him. Bodhi’s hand on his shoulder was doing nothing to diminish the pool of dread seeping through his mind, but Liam appreciated the gesture by putting a hand on top of his.

“Morning” a third voice called their attention.

He turned to see Garrick striding for their table. The first noticeable thing was the big scar on his face, mended but still pink colored, the second were the dark shadows under his eyes. Liam grimaced at the state of his friend, wondering if he had a moment of peace and quietness these last 72 hours.

“Tavis” Bodhi smiled “you look like shit”

Garrick sat beside Liam, patting him on the back in acknowledgment and giving Bodhi the middle finger.

“Barely slept” he replied “good to see you out of a bed, Mairi”

“Xaden?” Imogen murmured, eyes set on Garrick.

His friend sighed and Liam finally understood the reason for his exhaustion.

“I’ll bring him breakfast soon, so nutrition is covered. He still stinks though, he draws the line at showering”

Despite the attempt at humor, none of them could laugh at the comment. Liam still remembered how much of a mess Xaden was when he first visited the day before. Seeing his brother so lost and distraught - and a friend on the verge of death - was too much for Liam to handle.

“I can keep watch over Violet” Imogen suggested “We can’t have him rot in that room for gods know how long”

They were not able to stop the surprised stare. Imogen had never called Violet by name. Never.

“What?” she snapped at them.

Liam composed his face immediately, not daring to upset their hot headed friend over a topic as sensitive as her shifting feelings over Violet Sorrengail. Liam had grown past that dilemma months ago, had grown to see the younger Sorrengail as a friend, to let the respect and loyalty take root…but he knew the others were new to the feeling.

“We can try to convince him again” Garrick said to her, but soon turned to Liam “you think you could put some sense on Xaden?”

He wanted to tell them that there was no sense to Xaden where Violet was involved, but refrained from doing so. They knew.

“How…” his voice blurted before he could stop it.

Silence filled the air. There it was. The question he avoided the last two days despite his worry and interest in Violet's well being. A question he had not dared to ask Aiseregh - no brother should have to advertise his sister’s health to the person who put her at Malek’s border in the first place.

“Still asleep” Garrick murmured, eyes on his own plate.

Bodhi and Imogen had the same uneasy expression. It seemed the topic was difficult for all of them. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the fact that Violet sleeping for three days was brewing doubt on her recovery.

“I think…” Imogen said “I think he’ll cooperate if you talk to him. You always had a way with him”

Liam felt his throat dry and his heart beat faster than he thought was possible for a human. His friends were looking at him expectantly though, he could not fail them. He could not fail again.

“Sure” was all Liam said.

Their breakfast was quiet after that, with Garrick leaving first to hand Xaden some food and Bodhi to check on his arm. Liam refrained from the offer of checking on his health, he was physically fine after all.

“Come on” Imogen embraced his shoulder “let’s check on Deigh”

The walk to the base of the mountain range was short, but they kept stopping a few times to see the movement of the growing city below. From the last memories of fire and ashes, a spark of joy flickered inside Liam. There was still visible damage, but also wooden structures in the process of being replaced by stone. He saw the shy market flourishing with wheat, oats, barley and potatoes. In the distance, the temple of Amari stood in all its glory despite the ashes that stained the structure. Liam almost considered uttering a prayer, but he could not find it in him to even think of the words, instead choosing to let out a praise in tyrrish - the language rolling off his tongue in a strange and yet freeing manner.

“I know” a rare smile painted Imogen’s face “I was just as impressed”

He felt his eyes burn at her reply, the language so foreign yet so nostalgic to hear. It reminded him of a time that was long lost.

“Let’s go” she insisted in common tongue, as if reading the sudden sorrow of his eyes.

Their walk progressed much faster than before, the base of the mountains growing closer alongside the drop in temperature. Liam had worn a long sleeved tunic, but he could feel the cold air bite his skin- a feeling he was more than welcome to. Liam could see a shape - dark and massive - perched in a more distant range of mountains . It could only be Tairn.

“Most dragons are hunting, but they rotate keeping an eye on Deigh and Andarna”

“Andarna?” he asked.

Imogen’s face did not say much, but the lack of panic and fear relaxed his nerves.

“See for yourself”

They finally reached the top of a hill, the hollowed terrain below held the second pleasant sight of the day: red scales that decorated Deigh’s being. His curled up form made it difficult to check on the wound, but everything seemed fine otherwise, the massive chest moving steadily. Glane was nearby, wings spread over something - as if shielding it from the sun. The orange dragon moved its serpentine head towards Imogen and slowly lifted the wing up, revealing something Liam could never have expected.

“Is that…Andarna?” he mumbled.

He looked at Imogen expecting a denial, but she simply nodded. He turned his stunned face back to the dragons below. The previously golden small feathertail had doubled in size and the scales were black. That made no fucking sense.

“Apparently Andarna was not fully matured” Imogen explained “Resson…”

She pulled at a longer strand of pink hair, twisting it a bit too forcefully in her fingers “The shit show in Resson had something to do with it, Glane did not reveal much. Dragon secret and all”

He nodded, but did not understand a thing. There was almost nothing recognizable about Andarna. Despite the initial shock, Liam remembered how the small dragon simply materialized in the middle of the battle and a feeling of dread invaded his senses. She was essentially a child-dragon then.

“Was she wounded?”

“No” Imogen replied “she’s just very tired, but Tairn and Sgaeyl are not panicking over it. That must mean something”

He watched Glane drape the large wing over the feathertail, keeping her safe from the sunlight. All Liam could think was how Violet would react to that…If she woke up to begin with.

“Let’s approach” Imogen began descending the hill.

Liam followed her and soon he was kneeling in front of Deigh. The dragon’s large frame seemed small curled up in that half-circle shape, his head resting on the ground and wings neatly folded. Sitting nearby, Liam took in the warmth emanating from the magical creature, smiling at the knowledge that his dragon was alive. They both were. For a moment the guilt dulled, letting the relief flood his veins. Deigh remained asleep for the entirety of Liam’s visit, he did not have the courage to reach out through their bond, his dragon needed all the rest necessary.

“Liam…” Imogen struggled with the word.

He looked at her encouragingly, hoping she would speak her mind - she kept too much to herself - but nothing prepared him for the embrace she gave him. He immediately draped his arms over her shoulders, brows furrowing at the odd action.

“I’m just fucking glad you’re alive” she whispered “I thought we would loose you too”

Too. Soleil’s face invaded his mind with a sting. Despite his initial joy at being alive, the poisonous guilt returned in full force. He lived. Soleil died. Liam, a first year with little experience, was alive while Soleil, a skilled third year, was dead.

Zinhal was either a sick fucker or the gods had a worse fate for Liam.

“I’m glad you’re alive too�� he mumbled.

Imogen pulled back, her eyes holding the same grief and a hint of relief. He wondered if she also felt ill towards her survival, if the same thoughts plagued her mind in the middle of the night.

***

He hesitated for the third time, his raised hand barely touching the wooden surface of the door. Liam was not sure he could handle entering that room, looking at their faces, but he had promised to try. The knock was soft, but sure heard by occupants inside the room.

“Mairi” said the owner of the voice he was avoiding more than Xaden himself.

Brennan stepped aside for Liam to enter the room, which he did hesitantly. The spacious room was dark, huge drapes stopping the afternoon lights from bathing everything in orange. Xaden was sitting on a chair near the bed…and she was there, still asleep.

“If you came here to ask me to leave, Brennan beat you to it” Xaden’s voice was hoarse “I’m not leaving this bedside”

Brennan shared a look with Liam, his amber colored eyes holding something that resembled the same annoyance you would give to a stubborn child.

“Good luck” Brennan told Liam, then turned to Xaden “I’ll check on her again before bed”

The soft thud of the door closing was the last sound before minutes of silence went by. Liam noticed how Xaden’s shoulders were slumped, his hair a mess of tangles and clearly in need of a wash. Liam felt his guts trembling as he set eyes on Violet. Her small frame was drowning under a thick blanket, her hair loosely braided to the side, the pale complexion less gray than before.

“You’re feeling better?” his brother broke the silence.

Liam hummed a quiet yes and Xaden turned to look at him. If Garrick’s eyebags were deep, Xaden’s had only worsened since he last saw his brother.

“Take a seat if you’re going to stay”

Liam nodded, taking another chair from the large desk beside the bed and sitting across from his brother.

“Did Brennan say something about…” he began, but Xaden shook his head vehemently.

“Let’s not…I can’t talk about this” his voice was strained.

Liam nodded in agreement. Neither could he.

“I went to see Deigh today”

Xaden seemed to breathe at the change of subject.

“How is he?”

Liam shrugged and soon his hands were reaching for his pockets, taking the wooden shape inside it.

“He’s out of danger” Liam replied.

His brother nodded in response. Liam noticed he was playing with a dagger, spinning it and catching it by the blade. A common nervous tell tale.

“Which one?” Xaden asked, pointing with dagger.

Liam looked down at the wooden dragon. It was finished, but he did not have the courage to look at it for the last few days. The usual rush of calmness and peace that came from carving nowhere in sight considering who the dragon was - whose dragon it was.

“Andarna” he answered “though I think it might be outdated now”

Xaden did not laugh, but the tension on his shoulders seemed to ease and that was more than enough for Liam.

“I’m not going to convince you to bathe or have dinner in the kitchens, right?”

His brother looked at him like it was a more than obvious statement and Liam could not help but chuckle.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, but everyone would calm down if you left at least to eat. I could watch over Vi”

Like he had always done.

“I know, Liam. I just can’t” his brother sighed, throwing his head back and rotating to relieve the neck pain “I panic just thinking about it”

Xaden’s eyes were dull, as if he was drained of the usual spark of ire and condescending behavior. The man in front of him was simply a shell of his brother and Liam could not blame him. Everyone had seen how Violet revolted Xaden’s entire being, breaking through the walls he kept around his heart, aligning herself to him in a perfect puzzle fit. No wonder his brother was so distraught, specially after they parted to battle on bad terms.

“Were we ever really friends?”

Liam would never forget how hurt she looked while uttering those words. He felt like a bag of shit remembering how he broke her trust - someone who saved his life three times, who refused to let him cross the border of life and death with sheer rage and power. Liam did not deserve her as a friend. The guilt and regret mixed horribly inside him, one could only imagine how those feelings were intensified for Xaden.

“How are you sleeping?” Liam changed the subject.

His brother pointed at a mess of blankets and pillows shoved in the corner of the room. “Brennan brought me these, I just rest on the floor most times”

That did not look comfortable at all, but he doubted Xaden would actually take the bed with Violet laying on it.

“I’ll get you dinner” Liam said “do you want a sleeping draught?”

Xaden denied with a short headshake, the dull dark eyes set firmly on Violet and his right hand ghosting under the collar of his shirt. Liam took it as his leave, clasping his brother’s shoulder firmly and looking at Violet’s sleeping form one more time.

“Brother” Xaden’s voice was barely audible.

Liam let go of the door’s handle, facing Xaden.

“Yes?”

Xaden turned slightly, his profile visible “Thank you”

Liam felt his heartbeat speed up, the guilt and nausea simmering - reminding him of their presence, of the unworthiness of it all. Xaden was sitting beside the woman he loved, a woman who was injured, a friend Liam failed to protect when she most needed. Gratefulness was the last thing he wanted from his brother.

“I mean it, Liam. Always will”

Chapter list

Next chapter

[sl-newsie]

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Ch. 23: Goodbye?

“Well I do think it’s a subject best discussed in a more private setting?” I hint at the bystanders, but it goes completely over Ben’s head.

Thankfully Evie seems to catch my drift and starts ushering the others away. “Something tells me we’re needed elsewhere.”

Jay frowns, confused. “No we’re not. Where are we- ouch!”

“Let’s go!” 

Evie pushes Jay down the hall towards the stairs and the others follow, leaving me with a very animated Carlos.

“You’re leaving? You’re leaving. You’re…”

In a few moments I’ve gotten Carlos to calm down and sit next to me. “You know I can’t stay, Freckles. You’ve seen how much I’m a misfit here. At least you guys found ways to fit in. Mal’s got Ben, you’ve got Dude, Jay’s going to be the new sports captain, and for all I know Evie’s going to be the new fashion sensation.”

Carlos keeps shaking his head and when he lifts his gaze to mine I see him tearing up.

“Mal’s listening to her heart. If she can, why can’t you? You deserve a happy ending too, Magica. Please? I want to be with you.”

Carlos’ sweet words fill me with joy, but it slowly melts away when I remember how disappointing life can be. I know Carlos is my true love, the only one I’m ever meant to find.

“I want to listen to my heart too… But I’ve learned that always thinking with your heart means you’re vulnerable to be broken. You can choose the good life, Carlos. But I’m still not the same person I was yesterday. Love always comes at a cost, and I’m tired of being in debt.”

“I could go with you-!”

“No.” I pull him in for a hug and Carlos clings to me as if I’ll disappear. “You’ve made a good life for yourself here, Carlos. I couldn’t spoil that for you.”

“You wouldn’t! Why would you think that?”

I bite my lip. “If people saw me with you, they’d think you were strange too. I draw a pretty angry crowd. Just please, please know I’m doing this because I love you. It may seem confusing now, but in time you’ll learn to know I’m right.”

The empathy link tells me that Carlos reluctantly agrees, and he lets out a deep sigh as I take his hand and start leading him down the hall.

“Come on. Let’s go before I second guess everything. It's best for everyone. Oh, hold on a sec-” I take out my spellbook. “I need to change my hair back.”

Carlos just nods and seems to understand without me explaining why, though his downward gaze tells me he’s just as saddened as I am.

“Evie’s gonna be disappointed.”

I shrug. “She’ll live. It’s my hair, not hers. As much as I do like this shade it definitely draws too much attention. For now I’ll stick with blonde and maybe spell it again later.” I flip to the right page in the book and chant: “Erasing back from pink and floral, turn this hair back to normal.”

I snap my fingers and in the corner of my eye I see my blonde locks replace the pink. There. “How do I look?”

Carlos sighs and rubs the side of his hand down my face. “Normal.”

“Perfect.”

He tilts his head. “A bit too normal for my taste, but even if you were turned into a fish you’ll always be beautiful to me.” Carlos leans in to plant a gentle kiss on my cheek and in a split second I want to forget about ever wanting to leave. “I’m so sorry a wonderful, caring person like you has to go through all this.”

“I’ve gotten used to it. I think I’m ready to hide again. Bide my time until the world’s willing to see me as I am.”

By this time it’s dark out, allowing me to roam the school without too many witnesses. We descend the stairs and meet up with the others in the kitchen, where Tiffany is buzzing around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“You changed your hair?” Evie tries to contain her disapproval.

“Yes. It will help disguise me while I’m in hiding. I figured I’d go back to basics to try and find my own path. One less dark and stereotypical.”

Tiffany rushes up and unexpectedly shoves a big basket full of baked goods and other sweets into my arms. “Here, Magica. It’ll never be enough to make up for how bad we all treated you, but it’s all I could make in such short time.”

My jaw drops and I struggle to uplift the heavy basket. “Aw, Tiffany. You really didn’t have to-”

“I brought you something too,” Doug speaks up. He hands me a long cloth containing a number of vials. “Some potion ingredients from the chemistry lab. I figured they might not be the most exotic ones you might need, but it’s something-”

“It’s plenty enough, thank you so much Doug!” I balance Tiffany’s basket on my hip and use my other arm to wrap the book worm into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss my favorite study partner,” Doug frowns.

“I’ll miss you too, sugar!” Tiffany sighs.

“Goodbye, everyone. I hope to one day return and maybe learn to call you my friends. Until then, keep your wits sharp and your minds sharper.”

“You’ll always be our friend, Sparks.” Ben gives me one last hug. “My best friend.”

“Goodbye, trixie. I’ll keep pranking Chad in your honor.”

I smirk. “Thanks, Jay.”

Evie walks up and gets a closer look at my hair. “Still not a fan of blonde, but you pull it off well. I’ll miss you!” She squeezes me tight and it’s a wonder I can breathe. “Keep the clothes, I’ll try to send more once I’ve set up a designing business.”

“You’ll work wonders, Evie. The fashion world is about to be rocked off its feet.”

Mal’s next, and I’m surprised to see the next dragon queen seems a bit skittish. “I’m so sorry I pegged you for a goody-goody, and was mad because of the whole love potion thing.”

I just side-smile and wave it off. “Forget it. After all the drama you just had with your mom I’ll let it slide.”

“Have you decided where you’re going?”

“Somewhere where my talents will not be feared or criticized. I’ve heard the Enchanted Forest would make a suitable spot for now.”

Evie gasps. “But Magica… that place is almost as dark as the Isle of the Lost. Lots of evil, vicious magic lurks there-”

“Exactly. So if you ever need someone to cast any spells, you know where to find me. But from what I’ve seen from Mal-” I give her a wink. “I don’t think you’ll need any help.”

The only one who’s stayed quiet is Carlos. He follows me out to the front curve where Remus and Fairy Godmother are waiting. Before we reach them he pulls me aside and I can tell this is just as hard for him as it is for me.

“I didn’t want to say goodbye until you leave for good.”

“I know. Let’s just get through it nice and easy.” I offer a smile but we both know it’s fake.

“Magica! Magica!” FG waves at us. “I’ve set up the perfect spot for you! The Enchanted Forest is just a few miles north of here and has very few socializing habitants. It’s a little dark, but I figured you wouldn’t mind it. But we must hurry before daylight so no one notifies the Magic Committee.”

“And I’m here to drive you there!” Remus saluts.

I chuckle. “Really, Remus?”

“I’m the one who first brought you here, it’s only appropriate I’m the one to bust you out.”

After a silent, too-fast limo ride, we arrive at the edge of the Enchanted Forest. It almost looks like home, except a darker magic is seeping out from it. Nothing I can’t tame to serve my purposes. The thought of being alone again acts as both a comfort, and a loss.

“I’ll leave you guys to do the final chit-chats and wait here,” Remus calls from the front.

“Bye, Remus! I’ll miss you.”

“Right back at ya, Sanderson. Stay safe.”

Fairy Godmother and Carlos are already waiting at the tree line, and I can feel the last few moments ticking away all too fast. 

“I’m gonna have to get used to being by myself again. All I’m going to have to talk to is Binx.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve already sent your belongings and your feline friends to the cottage you’ll be staying in.” Fairy Godmother gives me a final hug. “Goodbye, dear. Good luck.”

“Thank you, headmistress. I promise my powers will have grown by the time I see you again.”

Fairy Godmother walks back to the limo, which just leaves Carlos to say my last goodbye to. I look between him and the awaiting forest, knowing he too feels just as conflicted as I am. We stay quiet for the moment, holding each other like nothing else matters. 

Carlos’ POV

Just when I thought my life was starting to turn up… Fate must hate me, because it’s taking away the nicest person I know and making her hide in the woods just because she’s a witch.

“I’m really going to miss you, Enchantress,” I whisper. “Are you sure you won’t stay?”

The blonde witch nods. “I’m positive. I’ll never forget you. ‘Behold, you art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves eyes. A little something from Song of Solomon 1:15 to remember me by.”

Her words bring a smile to my face and I have to chuckle. “Oh I’d never be able to forget you, Enchantress. You get into too much trouble. Dude’s going to miss you too.”

We both laugh one last time before I lean in to give her one last kiss, sweet and dire. 

Magica’s POV

Carlos brings my hand to his lips. “I’ll be here for you when you decide to come back.”

I grunt. “How do you know I’ll be able to without being cast out again?”

Wrapping my cloak around me, I reluctantly pull away and start walking towards the dark woods.

“I have hope,” Carlos calls from behind.

I look back and arch an eyebrow. “Hope can be deceitful.”

He shakes his head. “Not when true love is involved.”

His optimism is definitely a trait to admire. I give one final wave as I watch Carlos climb into the limo and see it drive away, leaving me alone once again. But it’s for everyone’s own good. I continue walking deeper into the trees, and soon hear:

“Good to see you, Magica. I was hoping you’d show up soon.” Binx slinks out from under a bush and hops up onto a tree stump. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest: dark, dreary, and isolated. Ready to get to work?”

I put a determined look on my face and start to follow the yellow-eyed feline to my new home.

Now off I go, off to grow my powers and build a life for myself. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to come home to my own happily ever after.

[goldencherryhazz]

my stress reliever

Sub!h x reader

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving) fluff and some swearing

A/N: so the grammys are tomorrow and I am not prepared physically or mentally, so I decided to write a little something to calm myself. Its nearly 2am so there’s probably a load of mistakes! Pls don’t copy my work. Hope you enjoy!

It was the night before the Grammys and Harry had to admit he was feeling a bit stressed but even more nervous, he was so grateful for the fact that he would not only be opening the show, but that he had been nominated for not one, not two, but three Grammys.

When he got the phone call from his manager Jeff he was over the moon and y/n was jumping for joy, whilst hugging Harry, he was also pretty sure he saw a couple tears slip down her cheeks. That feeling lasted for weeks, but now with less than 24 hours to go the nerves had definitely set in and he didn’t know how to soothe them and had been basking in his troublesome thought for the past 40 minutes.

Y/n was currently out shopping for some essentials but Harry wanted her to be no where else except in his arms, they had both become a bit clingy towards each other during the pandemic, they had heard lots of couples break up or get divorces, but with Harry touring all over the globe and y/n having to stay put for her own jobs hey were more than happy to spend months on end together.

When he heard the front door open he practically leaped up from his spot on the couch, rounding the corner to the hallway immediately spotting y/n carrying multiple bags, still clad in a coat and woolly hat, her cheeks slightly red from the cold air even though it was nearly half way through March.

‘Hiya baby’ she smiles at him

‘Hi angel, missed you’ he said fumbling with the ends of his fingers.

‘I’ve only been gone about half an hour H’ she chuckled slightly, sensing he wasn’t feeling himself and hadn’t been all day.

‘Wanna come and help me put some shopping away’ she asked starting to take her hat and coat off, before getting a nod of the head in return his shy eyes making contact with hers. She ventured her way through to the kitchen, Harry trailing his way behind her like a lost puppy, starting to feel a bit calmer just due to her presence.

They then started to putting items in their allocated places in their kitchen, working like a dynamic duo somehow knowing wherever the other was at each given moment. Once the last item was put away Harry folds away the bags and puts them in a cupboard to be used another time. He then stands there in front of her, strands of his hair falling into his face in which y/n reaches out to push them back, he nuzzled into the slight touch, craving closeness with his girl. He makes grabby hands towards her in which she immediately complied and crashed into his warm chest wrapping her arms round his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair. He sighed deeply in contentness but with a hint of worrysome into the crook of her neck ‘what’s going on in that head of yours baby’

‘I’m just worrying about tomorrow’ he speaks honestly ‘there’s just loads of thoughts of what could go wrong running through my head, and I can’t stop them’

‘Well I know that once you get out on that stage you are going to take it and rock the hell out of it, cause that’s just you and no matter how much you doubt yourself I know you are going to be amazing no matter what happens, and I think I can speak for pretty much everyone when I say that, you’re incredible baby no matter if you win a Grammy or not, I don’t really care about a shiny piece of metal I care about you’

‘But what if I mess up the words to the songs, or fall over on stage or something stupid like that’ he rushes out.

‘Your overwhelmed baby, and that’s very understandable because you haven’t really been doing a lot of this stuff cause of the pandemic, you just need to get in the swing of things again, but I’ll be there every step of the way, don’t need to be nervous H I’m here’ she cooed as he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

‘Thankyou angel, I love you, don’t know how much I needed to hear that’ he whispered kissing her neck.

‘I love you too, no need to thank me baby, that’s why I’m here, I’ll always be your moral support. If you want I can stand at the side of the stage with banners and everything,’ she says manoeuvring to grab a tea towel to demonstrate, she starts to swing her hips around, her body going in a circle with her hands in the air that was gripping the towel, whilst cheering ‘go H, go baby, go H, go baby.’ This made Harry laugh, a real laugh immediately lighting up the whole atmosphere. He swore he couldn’t live without this girl, who was dancing around the kitchen and would probably actually do what she was demonstrating on the side of the stage whilst he performed at the Grammys, because she cared about him that much.

‘There’s that smile, missed seeing that on your pretty face today’ she smiled right back at him, glad that he was happy again.

She made her way back to him, hugging him once again placing a kiss to the side of his jaw.

‘Wanna go upstairs and get all snuggy?’ She questioned.

‘Yeah, sounds perfect angel’

‘C’mon then’ grabbing his hand and leading them to their bedroom.

When they were half up the stairs y/n suddenly spins to face him again ‘you know, if your still feeling stressed I can help you even more, pretty sure I could eliminate all of it’

‘And how do you plan on doing that angel’

‘Oh my beautiful boy, the list goes on and on’ she says almost seductively.

They both knew where this was heading so they start to rush more up the stairs, excited to get to the bedroom, and as soon as they are and the door is shut behind them, Harry is pushed so his back was against the door before y/n starts kissing his lips hungrily, biting and sucking hickeys onto his neck making him groan ‘wanna be my baby boy tonight, just want to love you on you, make sure you’re totally stress free, how does that sound baby’

He whimpers at her words he could feel his length harden at her words ‘y-yes angel, want you to take control, wanna be your baby boy’

In turn y/n whimpers feeling her panties get wetter and wetter, she backed him up to the king-size bed, their lip connecting and reconnecting, the head in the room seeming to go up about 10 degrees, Harry loved it when y/n had her way with him, taking control of his pleasure, making him cum so hard he saw stars, he swore she was magical, the fact that he was worrying about every little thing about 20 minutes ago and now not having a care in the world, he could have been in the deepest, darkest whole and she still would be a been able to pull him out.

She turns both their bodies so that Harry’s would be the first to hit the bed, she was kissing him so hard it was making his knees buckle ‘do you want to take your shirt off and lay on the bed for me baby boy’ she says in which he quickly complies, lifting the fabric over his head, to see y/n doing the same taking her bra off at the same time, making him practically drool at the sight of her perky tits just begging to be played with.

He laid on the bed following her instructions, waiting for her to come over to him, and when she did y/n let out a small moan at the sight of his fucked out face and she had barely touched him, she loved it when he was like this, letting her take control when the roles were usually reversed, she just wanted to make him feel as good as he made her feel, which was pretty dam amazing.

She leaned over kissing his lips, her tongue diving into his mouth dancing with his own, she pulled away slowly ‘what do you want me to do to you baby’ she asked already knowing the answer ‘want me to play with you cock’

He whimpered and nods, his doe eyes begging her to do something about the tent in his sweats.

‘Use you words baby, wanna hear you say it’

‘P-please angel, want y-you to play with my cock’

‘Okay baby boy’ she reaches down to the tie on his sweats undoing the bow slowly, almost teasing him making him squirm and moan out ‘please touch me angel, m’starting to ache’ she works quicker getting the trousers off of his legs before throwing them somewhere in the room, then going back to pull his boxers down his long legs, his cock finally springing free from its confines and gently hitting his stomach.

Her eyes went wide at the sight of his cock, the tip an angry shade of red leaking precum, the thick veins more prominent, his balls looking deliciously filled with cum, just ready for a release. She lays between his spread legs, wasting no time in gripping his girthy shaft in her hand making Harry throw his head back and stifle out a load moan, she smiled knowing she was making his feel good with only one touch. ‘Who’s made you this hard baby?’

‘You angel, only you’ he moans as she starts bringing her hand up and down his cock, her thumb swirling over his sensitive tip making him groan every time. She then brings her head down, making eye contact with his green orbs as he lifted his up, her lips encased his tip before going down inch by inch until she was about half way, Harry let out a prolonged moan, loving the feeling of her mouth in him. Y/n brought her head up after a few more seconds gasping for air ‘taste so good baby, can’t wait to taste that cum though’ he whimpered his legs spreading even more to give her more room. When she reattached her lips to his shaft she starts bobbing her head up and down, taking him down her throat aswell, her hand tugging the rest ‘feels so good angel’ he says whilst gathering her hair in a makeshift ponytail.

At this point y/n panties were soaked, she managed to get a little stimulation by grazing her clit on the rough fabric of her jeans, making her hum in delight around his cock. She brings her other hand down to his balls, rolling them in her palm. She then comes off his cock with a pop, taking one of his balls into her mouth instead, changing between the two all whilst tugging his cock.

‘M’gonna cum if you keep doing that’ his legs starting to shake around her

‘Well that was my aim, baby’

‘wanna have you wrapped around me when I cum, please angel’ he whimpered

And with that y/n was already unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs, because how could she say no to him, her clit was starting to throb aswell, she smiled knowing that it wouldn’t take long for them both to cum, she straddles him bringing her lips to his once again, he grabbed hold of one of her tits massaging it before tweaking her nipple making her whimper into his mouth. She becomes desperate pulling away quickly before gripping his shaft and lining him up with her entrance, sinking down onto him with ease because of how wet she was. They both let out prolonged moans, loving the feeling of being wrapped around each other ‘pussys so fucking tight, s’like you were made for me’ he moans out, ‘think your cock was made for me too baby boy, stretches me out soo good’ placing both hands on his chest, she whimpers slowly lifting herself up before going back down, making a slow pace. They were moaning in unison the only sound in the room, and small whimpers of ‘baby’ and ‘angel.’ y/n brings her hand down to her clit starting to make small circles, knowing she wouldn’t need much to topple over she was amazed at how fast her orgasm was creeping up on her ‘m’gonna cum baby boy, you close’

‘Yes m’so close, your gonna make me cum so hard’ his legs starting to shake again, one of his tell- tale signs.

‘Cum with me baby’ y/n says not holding back anymore, with a few more thrusts and circles to her clit she was cumming, she whimpered the words ‘baby boy’ over and over, that’s when Harry toppled over he felt his cock twitch and with that he was releasing ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of her, he stopped breathing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, toes curling, legs shaking practically screaming profanities. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was gasping for air, a faint ringing in his ears.

Y/n leaned down to his chest kissing a few spots, now utterly exhausted ‘you okay baby’

‘Never cum so hard in my life angel, felt incredible’ he breathes out a lazy smile on his face.

She slowly lifted herself off of him, knowing he would be sensitive before laying down beside him ‘thankyou angel’ he whispers to her

‘What for?’ she asks

‘For making me forget all of my worries, for being my stress reliever, probably would have lost it by now if I didn’t have you’ he says sweetly. ‘I don’t know what I do without you either baby’ she says kissing his lips and then pulling his head to her chest, he nuzzled into her, his long arm draping the duvet over them, before gripping onto her waist.

‘Now go to sleep my beautiful three time Grammy nominated boyfriend, you’ve got a big day tomorrow’

[tothemeadow]

I'm the pregnancy anon. I meant like while she was pregnant. Not necessarily the before, like she would already be nice and plump. That's why I considered it a hard ask. If it too much no worries. And I hope you feel better babe. ♥

yaaaay requests r open!! i adore your writing so so much !! maaam i have been missing your tanjirou content and would love breeding kink tanjiro but with a more subby tanjirou? not to say the other one wasnt good (it was FANTASTIC and i re read it all the time .///.) i would just really like to see ur take on subby tanjirou getting overwhelmed by the idea of his wife bearing his child 🥺🥺

Since these two requests are similar, I’ve decided to pair them together!

‘lucent’ / Kamado T. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, pregnant sex

words: 1,426

(a/n): Tanjiro is 18+ in this!

-

Sweet, sweet, sweet, such soft, supple skin…

You’re just so big, brilliantly so, and it’s all Tanjiro’s doing. His face flushes with the mere thought and a smile grows on his face. You’re going to have twins, aren’t you? That’s why your belly is so ripe, skin swollen and glistening.

Feet propped on his lap, you hum in contentment, your eyes scanning over the printed text of your book. It’s some raggedy old thing, leather bound with yellowing pages, but to you, it’s a treasure. Urokodaki was kind enough to give it to you, and Tanjiro can still envision the expression that played on your face when the older man gifted it to you. Tanjiro absentmindedly massages your feet, his eyes lingering on your tummy.

Gods, you’re breathtaking.

If he could stay in this moment forever, he would. Tanjiro’s so helplessly in love with you, nearly obsessed with all the finer details. You’re his, and he’s yours in return. Even better, there’s a tiny human growing inside of you, a symbol of the love the two of you share. And to think, soon you’ll be cradling that little bundle of joy, singing soft tunes and looking utterly ethereal.

“Tanjiro?” you ask, voice gentle. Glancing up, Tanjiro notices your eyes are on him rather than your book. “Is everything alright?”

“Things couldn’t better,” he responds, his blush darkening. Reaching for your hand, he snatches it in his hold and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss to the backs of your knuckles. “I’m just excited for the future is going to bring,” he says, placing both of your hands on your belly.

“I am too.” You beam at him and close your book. “You’ll be a wonderful father, Tanjiro. I couldn’t ask for any else to do a better job.” 

Tanjiro’s heart flutters at the word “father.” It still feels like a dream, one that he could only hope to grasp, yet here it is, the very proof sitting underneath his hand. Subconsciously, he begins to rub his hand back and forth, warmth blooming is his chest and spreading across his entire being. This is what pure joy feels like. Tanjiro must be the luckiest man on Earth to have you as his wife, and now that you’re pregnant…

“I can’t wait to have a family with you,” he confesses. “Imagining all these little children crowding around you makes me excited.”

“I think that just means you want to take me to bed every night,” you tease.

Tanjiro bites back a smile. It’s not you’re wrong, not in the very least, but you don’t have to outright expose him like that. “I’m not arguing against that,” he murmurs.

“Ever the charmer,” you tell him. Placing a hand at his nape, you softly scratch his scalp. “That’s what you want, huh? To pump me full of kids until I can’t walk anymore?” At that, Tanjiro gulps, the pleasant warmth in his body shooting southwards. “You know what? If you play your cards right, I just might let you,” you purr, leaning forward.

Slanting your mouth over his, you kiss him slowly, deeply. Tanjiro’s hands shake lightly as you run your fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp. Your touch is too enticing, the flick of your tongue over his bottom lip nearly sending his eyes rolling towards the back of his head. Oh gods, you taste so sweet, and the flowery scent sticking to your glowing skin sets Tanjiro’s heart ablaze. But wait – no, that’s not it. He can smell the dampness collecting between your thighs. If he wasn’t already half hard before, this surely does the trick.

“Tanjiro,” you purr, tugging him closer. “Be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you?”

He can’t deny you when you’re like this. Your voice drips with honey, the saccharine sweetness making him dizzy. Oh, but the thought of him leaning over your swollen body and fucking you slowly nearly hurts.

“I… I might lose control,” Tanjiro admits, his eyelashes fluttering.

“I’m not made of glass, Tanjiro,” you say, caressing his cheek. “I’ve noticed you staring at me more so than usual. Honey, do you have a thing for pregnant women?”

“Only if it’s you involved,” he says, voice dry.

Leaning back, you pull him with you. Now flat on your back, your hands roam his body, tracing the hard lines of muscle through his yukata and gripping his ass. Tanjiro sighs as he kisses you, a large, rough hand kneading your thigh.

“Ah-ah-ah,” you breathe, pulling away from the kiss. “I don’t think I gave you permission to touch me like this.”

“Please, baby,” Tanjiro nearly whines, his tone borderline desperate. “You’re just so sweet and soft and fuck I want to make you feel good.”

“You always babble when things get to be too much…” A hint of a smile plays on your features. “You wanna fuck me, right? Stuff me with that fat cock until I’m crying out your name?”

Tanjiro’s cock twitches at your filthy words. Of course he wants to fuck you silly, to have you cream around his cock. You’d look so beautiful coming undone, swollen body covered in sweat and cum-

“Ah, shit,” Tanjiro gasps as you grasp his cock. “When did you-“

“You think too much,” you tease, slipping your hand over his exposed chest. Your hands are surely deft, having undone his yukata without him even noticing. Oh, but your touch is magical, brushing over his abs, the swell of his pectorals. His breath hitches as you pinch a hardened nipple; licking your lips, you guide his hands to your own yukata. Tanjiro wastes not another moment, tugging your yukata open and nearly drooling over the sight of your smooth flesh.

Somehow, exposed like this, you look even bigger. He’s the one who got you all pretty and large like this, and he’d be lying if his heart didn’t pick up its pace at the thought. You’re having his baby, you’re having his baby, holy shit-

“Can I fuck you?” Tanjiro nearly pants. “Please? You’re so gorgeous, all swollen like this; I really, really want to fuck you,” he babbles. “Please, baby, please.”

Dropping his hips, he grinds his cock against your sopping pussy, a breathy moan slipping from his throat. Fuck he needs this so, so bad. Don’t tease him, please, he needs to fuck you until you’re feeling as dizzy as he is-

“Show me what you got, honey,” you purr, bringing his head to rest on your shoulder.

A throaty grunt fills your ear as Tanjiro pushes in, your velvety walls clamping down around his cock and sucking him in greedily. He doesn’t know how, but you feel even tighter than before. The smell of your slick has him panting wildly, your warmth and silky skin beckoning him to fuck you. Mouthing at your neck, he sets a steady pace, cock driving in deep. You have to become as desperate as he feels, beg him for another child, for a whole fucking family. He’ll answer to your every beck and call if it means you’ll humor him, shower him with love in and outside of the bedroom.

“Baby,” he murmurs, a pleading lilt to his tone, “you’re gonna make me cum so hard. Mmph – yeah, move your hips just like that. Keep squeezing…”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you murmur, clenching even harder around his thick cock.

Tanjiro whimpers, his hair tickling your cheek and neck as he nods his head. “Please let me cum,” he says, thrusts quickening, becoming more desperate. Dropping his head, he mouths at your swollen breasts, tongue flicking over a nipple. A hand slips between your legs, fingers expertly locating your clit and rubbing furiously at it, eager to have you cum alongside him.

“Please,” Tanjiro cries, “lemme cum, lemme cum, cream around my cock, baby, ohhh-“

Choking on a gasp, his movements turn frantic as he bucks into you. Before long, his orgasm rips through his body, leaving him moaning your name as his cum fills you to the brim. Still, his fingers continue on; you are going to cum, whether you want to it or not. Your nails sink into the meat of his shoulders as you convulse around him, a breathless noise erupting from your chest as you arch into him.

“Tanjiro…”

“I got you, baby,” Tanjiro coos, hands trembling lightly as he clutches your face. With a small smile, he kisses you, the flush on his cheeks unbearably warm. “I’ll be here, always. I’m not going anywhere.”

[leviaju]

forgiveness

pairing: belphegor x GN! reader, hints of everyone x reader

words: 8.1k+

genre: angst, fluff at the beginning and a bit at the end if u squint

warnings: mentions of mc and lilith’s death, foul language

preview: “I’m sorry,” He begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. “I know that will never cut it, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.” 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

hey guys what up. so... i’ve done a lot of thinking about belphegor’s dynamic with MC, and, like many others, was really bothered by the sudden switch after... he killed them. u know. typical stuff. i wanted to fill in the gaps!!! if im being completely honest, this has sat in my wips for.... like half a year. it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope that everyone’s not too terribly ooc LOL

anyways yeah. i mention how belphegor killed mc a couple of times, so proceed with caution! hopefully, if i get any ideas, the next stuff i write will be a lot lighter. hope you enjoy! (also requests r open soooooooo)

The weight on your chest crushed your rib cage, threatening to snap your bones like they were nothing more than twigs. All you could see was the pitch black of eternal night, and whether your eyes were opened or closed you couldn’t tell. What commanded your attention was the searing pain in your lungs, growing exponentially every half-second, and the unrelenting grip that was slowly shattering your esophagus. No matter how hard you struggled, squirmed and fought against the weight holding your body down, there was no use. It was pointless. The pain spread from the raging fire in your lungs to the tips of your fingertips, and everywhere felt as if you had been set aflame. Slowly, a light illuminated the force keeping you down. 

You couldn’t make out much, save for the cackle that rang insufferably through your ears, and the intense eyes that were staring you down. 

They held no remorse. 

-

Bones ache as you rest against your bed, finally allowing the tension in your muscles to melt away. You’d never mistake this feeling for regret of a busy day, having spent so much time with the people you care about, but it certainly took its toll on you. 

It began with Satan, who’d asked you the night before to accompany him on an early morning walk. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence — he’d invite you to join his morning routine on every day off, and you’d never refuse — hence, at the wonderful time of 7:00am, you were venturing around the Devildom, hand in hand with the Avatar of Wrath. The two of you would walk, occasionally resting on a park bench for longer than either of you would like to admit, for about an hour and a half before you took an official break. The time was filled with pleasant chatter and comfortable silence. Every so often he’d squeeze your hand, and when you’d look over, the fondest of smiles crossed his face. It was a reminder of how glad he was that you joined him. 

At around 8:30, he took you into a café for breakfast, and two of you spent only about thirty minutes there chattering away happily. For the most part, he was vividly and excitedly discussing a book he’d just finished the night before…

Until you were interrupted.

“Hello, lovely!” Asmodeus wrapped his arms around you from behind, just before pressing a kiss on your cheek. Satan sighed, resting his head in his hand as he watched the interaction. 

“My selfish older brother’s been hogging you all morning, I couldn’t help but want to whisk you away!”

Despite the glare Satan was sending his way, Asmodeus took a seat next to you, happily engaging in conversation as he completely ignored his brother. He told you that the mall was opening in about an hour, and Asmo desperately wished to get his perfectly-manicured hands on a new makeup product being revealed that day. 

“But of course I can’t go alone! How positively dreary that would be.” His fingers twined with yours as he looked at you hopefully, and you ran your thumb across his hand. A sheepish smile crept its way onto your lips, and you looked over at Satan. He simply nodded, flicking his hand as a gesture for you two to leave, and Asmodeus didn’t hesitate. He was quick to stand and pull you with them, holding tight to you as he whisked you away. You called out to Satan, now alone at the table with a reluctant smile on his face as he waved goodbye. 

“Thanks for breakfast! Get home safe!”

You almost missed the chuckle that left his lips, the café door closing behind you. 

Asmodeus kept you until noon. He got a hold of the lipstick he wanted almost right away, but insisted on buying an outfit to match the colour. Regardless of what you’d initially thought, the outfit wasn’t for him.

“Oh, we’ll look positively stunning together!” He exclaimed after about two hours of forcing you in and out of changing rooms, putting his hands all over you to “adjust the clothing” as he deemed necessary. Near the end, you could feel soreness deep in your muscles creeping in from such an active morning, but Asmodeus’ cheery face and constant flirtations helped you forget about it almost completely. 

It wasn’t until you got home that you truly felt the effects of on-and-off walking since early in the morning. Be that as it may, your stomach was growling, loudly reminding you that it was now past lunch. As much as you wished to give up on food for the time being and instead head to your room to collapse, the pain in your belly was enough to urge you to cease any arguments, instead ready to try and ignore the ache in your bones in order to quell the angry rumbling of your stomach. 

Unfortunately, when you finally made it to the kitchen, there was no food prepared. Instead, what you found was a dejected Beelzebub, frowning softly as he once again was at the receiving end of a lecture from the eldest of his brothers. As quiet as possible, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to listen in on their conversation. 

There was silence, followed by a sigh. 

“It’s easier to simply ask what’s going on as opposed to trying to eavesdrop, MC.”

You jumped, then bashfully made your way into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on your face. Lucifer was rubbing his temple. 

“Beelzebub was supposed to be on lunch duty, but ended up ‘taste-testing’ to the extent that he ate it all. Again.” Lucifer sighed. The typically perfect eldest brother was being run ragged, if the bags forming under his eyes told you anything. “So, instead of working on the papers I have to get finished for tonight, I’m stuck making lunch while he cleans up.”

Beelzebub’s frown tugged at your heartstrings, and in spite of the exhaustion clawing relentlessly at your bones, you relented. 

“Why don’t I help? Four hands are better than two,” you proposed, and a small smile graced Lucifer’s face. He lifted his hand to brush the disheveled black hair out of his face, and your chest ached just a bit at the sight. You made a mental note to drag him to bed for a nap the next time you saw him like this.

“That would be more than welcome. Please, if you may.” Already you turned to start working, but Lucifer’s voice made you pause. 

“But no feeding Beel. He’s eaten more than his fill already, he can wait until we’re all done.”

Needless to say, every so often you’d slip Beelzebub a piece of chopped vegetable or cooked meat, and he’d very happily (but quietly!) munch away, his expression radiating warmth and joy. And Lucifer, who seemed to almost be omniscient at times, never once mentioned it. Once the three of you were done cooking, Lucifer placed his hand on your head, patting you gently. 

“Good work, MC. I must leave now, but I trust that the two of you will be able to clean everything up. Your help was much appreciated. You will be paid back in kind for all of your hard work.”

If nothing else, the slight blush on Lucifer’s face as he ever-so-gently pressed his lips to the crown of your head was more than enough payment. 

“Thank you.” Beelzebub cleared his throat, washing the dishes as you dried them. “I… Thanks for helping. And feeding me.”

His smile warmed your heart, and you nodded, bumping your arm with his gently. The small bit of pink that dusted his cheeks compelled you to coddle him, but you resisted the urge. Barely.

“Anytime, big guy.”

After you ate lunch, the only thought in your mind was the prospect of curling up under your covers and passing out. The fretful, broken sleep the night before wasn’t helping at all in keeping you awake, and that on top of the rest of the day’s events had you yearning for the feeling of your pillows. 

Unfortunately, you hadn’t even made it through the door when your phone began to blow up, one notification after the other in quick succession.

GGKKJFLFJG

MC

CMOE QUIC K

PLS

SUPE R RARE EVENT IN MONONONOKE 

PELASE 

YOU HVE TO BE PARTNERED WIHT SOMEONE TO GTE THE PRIZE

MC

MC

PL E A S E

HURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHHHUUURRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY

You found yourself in Leviathan’s room, sat in his lap as he explained the event to you. Your half-asleep brain did its best to keep up with his quick speech, but that, along with the warmth of his chest against your back, became the most soothing lullaby. 

“Hey! Normie! I agreed to let you sit here so I could easily help you through the event, but if you’re going to fall asleep on me, I’m pushing you off—“

“I’m awake! I’m awake. 

...Now, what was I supposed to do?”

The unintentional giggle that escaped your lips at his expression caused Leviathan to huff, exasperated, despite the flush of his face. Diligently, however, he thoroughly explained the event, for the second time, and the method to obtain the rare prize: a level 2000 I’m Going To Murder You So Hard That You’ll Come Back To Life Just To Die Again Death Sycthe, the strongest weapon ever released in the game. It was a partner event, which explained Leviathan’s desperate and urgent request for aid. You didn’t mind though. While yes, you’d probably never be able to get to his level of gamer, you were more than happy to go along for the ride. It made him happy! 

Leviathan rested his chin against your shoulder as he played on his phone, focused to such a degree that the usually easy-to-fluster demon was completely unphased by your proximity. Your phone, set to AutoFight, rested untouched near Leviathan’s leg, abandoned on the floor. You watched him expertly take out enemies that would have one-hit KO’d you through heavy eyelids, and every time he beat a wave of enemies, his attention would momentarily avert from the screen, looking at you from the corner of his eye expectantly. A kiss on his cheek was more than enough to motivate him to continue on, albeit with a pink glow on his cheeks until his attention was once again completely wrapped up in the game at his fingertips. 

-

“Levi! I said open up, goddamnit!” 

The pounding against the door was enough to distract Leviathan from his game, subsequently killing his character in the process. He groaned, cursing the demon who interrupted the two of you as he gently lifted you off of his lap, before getting up to open the door. 

“The hell do you want?!”

To be completely honest, you were so wrapped up in watching Leviathan play his games that you had forgotten about your weekly movie night with Mammon, who had come over to his younger brother’s room to drag your ungrateful ass  back to your own. Leviathan had cleared the event in Mononoke Land hours ago, but not wanting you to leave just yet, invited you to keep watching him play. Setting aside how tired you were, how could you say no? You’d wanted to spend time with him, too. 

Unfortunately, you lost track of time, and your phone, battery completely drained from the event, rested uselessly in your pocket. A consequence of this happened to be missing the countless messages and calls Mammon had sent your way, before he began his hunt for you throughout the house. The last place he checked was, of course, Leviathan’s room.

“Come on, human, I ain’t got all day. No one keeps the Great Mammon waiting!” 

“Except for MC,” you heard Leviathan mumble under his breath, and a laugh escaped you before you had the chance to slap a hand over your mouth. Mammon flushed deeply, before striding into his brother’s room. 

“Hey, wait, you moron! I never said—!” 

The force of Mammon throwing you over your shoulder wasn’t enough to hurt, but it certainly was enough to leave you breathless for a moment. “Let’s go, fragile human. I picked the perfect movie already.” Mammon’s words came out in a bashful mumble, but he had enough courage to lift his head and smirk at Leviathan as he carried you out of the room. All you could do was smile apologetically at the blue haired demon before Mammon turned, bringing you out of sight. 

Mammon was all complaints as he carried you to your bedroom, but you knew it came from a place of love. Even though he’d never admit it, you could tell he was hurt by you unintentionally ignoring him. Because of this, instead of demanding he let you down, you allowed him to hold you like this, not a single complaint leaving your lips. 

When he brought you to your room, you were set on the bed you’d missed dearly and he went to put the movie in the player. 

“Hey! No sleepin’ on me, alright? I wanna watch the movie with ya, and I can’t if you’re passed out, now can I?” 

And so here you are now, bed frame creaking as Mammon climbs onto the mattress. Rubbing your eyes, you nod, and lean into him once he gets close enough for you to. 

“Seriously, I’m gonna hafta have a serious talk with Levi,” Mammon grumbles, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in so that you’re almost in his lap. He pulls the blankets over the two of you as you rest your head on his chest, and hum quietly in return. “He used up all your energy, and now we won’t be able to get to enjoy the movie as much! Honestly…”

The vibrations of Mammon’s words can be felt through his chest, and you simply cuddle into him more and try to train your bleary eyes on the television screen. The Avatar of Greed shuts up completely when you take his hand in yours and press a gentle kiss to it, before doing your best to focus on the movie. As time passes, however, the idea of giving into your whims grows more than tempting, and oh-so-easy for you to do. 

-

“Hey! Yo, MC! Seriously… You’re hopeless.”

A chiding, yet gentle voice draws you from the confines of rest. You puff air from your nose in response, cuddling closer to whatever it was that had been so comfortable in the first place.

“MC… Come on. Ya gotta wake up, ya didn’t even watch any of the movie! It was really good, y’know.”

Mammon’s hand rubs circles on your back as you mumble incoherently, a noise to acknowledge the fact that he‘s been talking, and that you are indeed awake now. 

It takes a good amount of time, as well as some gentle encouragement from Mammon, to get you to finally open your heavy eyes, and even longer for you to be able to apologize to him for missing out on the movie he was so excited to watch. He pouts a bit, but the blush on the highs of his cheeks lets you know that he didn’t mind all that much. You smile and yawn, and his chuckle resonates in your ears. 

“I gotta go now, otherwise Lucifer’s gonna kill me for staying so late. Sorry I woke ya up, but ya look so tired now that you’ll probably fall back asleep right away.”

And so, after a quick goodbye and a kiss on the cheek (which made Mammon turn the prettiest shade of red), you close your door and… sigh. If you had been able to stay asleep, the fact that you aren’t in pajamas and haven't brushed your teeth wouldn't be that much of an issue. Now that you‘re slightly more conscious, however, it’s hard to convince yourself to simply climb back into bed. Your breath is bugging you a bit, and the jeans you’re wearing certainly aren’t at all as comfortable as your pajama pants.  For that reason, to your own dismay, you begin getting ready for bed — properly this time. 

A small “finally…” tumbles from your lips after you finish your nighttime routine. Lacking any form of grace, you plop into bed once more and pull the blankets to your chin, nuzzling into the pillow. Your bed still smells like Mammon’s cologne, and you hum softly to yourself before closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take over once more, and hold you hostage until late in the morning. 

Alas, sleep seemed to be evading you now, similar to how you had ignored it during the day. The mattress you lay on simply isn't comfortable anymore, and the blankets that hug your body cause you to overheat. Unfortunately, if even one limb is out of the blanket, you get so cold you start shivering. None of your typical sleeping positions are anywhere near as effective as they typically are, and you’re left to wrestle with sleep alone, hoping to beat it into submission so you can finally get some proper rest. 

After about 45 minutes of tossing and turning with no results, you finally relent. The nap you’d taken while watching the movie royally fucked you over, and you groan. Eventually you decide to give up on trying to fall back asleep, and huff as you sit properly on your bed. 

Blanket dragging behind you as it drapes from your shoulders, you slowly make your way through the silent hallways of the House of Lamentation. The only sounds floating through the walls were the light buzz of electricity running through the wiring of the house, and your own footsteps as you began walking up one of the many staircases in the large building. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been walking, the passage of time different at night to a hazy mind, but eventually you arrive at your favourite area in the house, second only to your lush bedroom. There are no artificial lights, only the gentle cast of the night sky providing the ideas of shape in the planetarium. You’ve never seen stars so vibrant and bright, and there are so many more in the Devildom than anywhere you could go back home. Even though the only light comes from the stars, it’s enough to create soft, fuzzy edges around everything in the room; this includes the bundle of various blankets mussed in the centre of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you make your way towards the pile. 

Since you’d arrived in the Devildom, the planetarium at the top of the House of Lamentation became your safe haven. Your room, without a lock on the door, was way too easy for intruding demons to enter without permission, and on nights when everything became too much for you to handle, you’d head up to the planetarium to clear your mind. There’s just something so calming about a starry sky on a clear night that releases you of your fears and anxiety, and helps you get a grip on the situation around you. 

After freeing a certain someone from their attic-based captivity, however, you learned that the planetarium was a place favored not only by you. Since he’d been freed, you’d been kind, but there were still fears plaguing your mind, reminding you of everything that has transpired between the two of you. It’s something that you can’t escape, following you even - especially - in your sleep, when you wished you’d be the most at peace. It makes sense, considering the sin he embodies, but you wish it wasn’t like that nonetheless. 

Once you’d learned that this was one of his favourite rooms in the house, especially on nights when he can’t fall asleep, you found yourself avoiding this area. It’s not that you hate him; it’s the opposite, really. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel the tightening of his fingers around your neck, and the burning sensation in your lungs that’s screaming for oxygen, and the desperation to alleviate the seer of deprivation. 

Still, you trek on. Closer and closer to the pile of blankets, your gut cries to you to run away. You ignore it. The nearer you get to the nest of blankets, the faster your heart beats, the more lightheaded you feel. But you continue. 

Eventually you get close enough to make out the shape of a familiar pillow, the cow print on the case worn and well-loved. From the moment you walked in the room, you knew he was here. All the same, you walk on, and the only sounds in the room are the gentle taps of your clothed feet against the tile, and the quiet noises of your quickened breaths.

You’ve avoided being alone with him since… Since you… Since the event. Your heart screamed at you to forgive him, to love him just as much as you love his brothers. That said, there’s nothing in you that can stop your stomach from churning whenever he gets too close. 

Butterflies beat aggressively within your heart and stomach, and it’s years before you get within his range of sight, but you sit down on the floor, holding the blanket tight to your body. 

There’s one beat, 

two beats,

three beats of silence before you can hear him sucking in a breath through his teeth. In your peripheral you can see his lips parting, closing, parting again as he tries to find the words. He heard you walk in, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t immediately bolt in the opposite direction. However, this proximity leaves him with an entirely new predicament. He wants to talk to you, he wants to laugh and joke with you the way his brothers do, but one look at your face and he notices the dark bags under your eyes, and the frown that tugs at your lips as you stare up at the stars. He can hear your heart racing, and feel his own in the tips of his fingers. He opens his mouth again, but the crack in his voice betrays his usual collected personality. 

“I’ll go,” Belphegor begins, begrudgingly starting to gather his blankets. His body freezes when his eyes pass over your figure and you’re looking right at him, through him, and he swears he can feel the blood in his veins stop pumping. Your expression is unreadable, almost scary, and he’s never in his life been in fear of a human until this moment. 

The seconds pass as years do, both of your bodies chilled to the bone but neither of you able to look away. In the end, the one who casts their gaze somewhere else is you, and he exhales loudly. 

“Don’t.”

Your reply is simple, but he’s stuck in place. Slowly, he nods, sitting down again the way he had been prior, and pulling his beloved pillow close to his chest. He can’t breathe, the tension suffocating. It doesn’t help that now you refuse to look at him. 

“... If you want,” he replies dumbly, staring at the floor. He feels trapped in place, afraid to move and scare you off. Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave you be, he stays. You told him to, after all. Slowly, you sit down, his blankets creating a low wall between the two of you.

It’s only now that he gets a good look at you. You're tired, he knows, watching as your eyelids droop and your lazy movements when you get more comfortable under your blanket, but there’s more to it than just that. You seem so fragile, like sugar glass, breaking with even the slightest amount of pressure. He feels he can reach over and shatter you with the gentlest of touches, and that thought alone roots him in place. Since you came back, he’s never seen you without a smile. Your genuine smile was the prettiest, he decided rather early on, one that lights up your face and brightens those around you. Belphegor really, truly loves your smile.

He knows there was a point in time, not long ago, where he could have made it so no one saw it ever again. He can’t help but be grateful he didn’t succeed when he sees you smiling at his brothers. 

That’s never the smile you show him though. It’s not for lack of effort; you certainly try, and he loves you for that. But the smile you show him is always plastered on, and he knows you’re doing it for his sake. With Belphegor, your smile never reaches your eyes. Be that as it may, you’re never weak around him. Fake smiles prove exactly how strong you really are, but your heart races every time he enters the room. As much as he wishes your palpitations are out of excitement, he knows better than to give himself false hope. 

That’s why he’s so taken aback when he looks you over and you seem so vulnerable. Never, not in a million years, would he ever let himself believe that you’d allow yourself to look weak in front of him, not after what he did. Even so, here you are, shaking, knees drawn into your chest, and his heart soars because you’re showing him a new side to yourself. It aches at the knowledge that you’re feeling so vulnerable because of him. 

His eyes burn holes in the side of your head. You know he’s watching you, studying you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the hands he uses to pull the blankets over his body are the exact same ones that led you to your untimely and violent demise, and not when every time you look at his face, you can also see Mammon’s above you, sobbing as he tries to will you not to fade away into nothingness. 

There’s no putting it nicely. You were murdered, and Belphegor was the one who killed you. As much as he tries to pretend it never happened, to act around you the same as his older brothers do, you would never forget. Neither would he, regardless of the effort he puts into pushing the memory out of his mind. His chosen way of coping was to laugh with you, to get close and have you forgive him without acknowledging the situation. It was too painful to talk about, after all. He willingly, happily snuffed out the life of someone his brothers love, and someone he’d find himself loving too. You became someone who changed him, helped him grow and be better. It was easier, simpler to act as if you’d met him the same way you’d met any of his brothers. 

Belphegor killed one of the last remaining parts of his past, a part that, while once warm and light, mutated and infected him, causing his anger to grow out of control, like a weed that suffocates any flower that tries to flourish. He killed a descendant of his sister, and the fact that you’re here now is more of a second chance than he thinks he could ever deserve in all his millenia of living. 

And yet, here you are. Scared and shaking, but here. The silence has stretched on for longer than he’d like; he wants to be able to love you, openly and happily, but knows it won’t happen. It can’t, unless he does what he thought was the very last thing he’d do. 

“I’m sorry,” Belphegor begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. He can hear your heartbeat pick up, and he curses himself mentally. Your lip between your teeth, you remain silent. His nerves force him to speak more. 

“I know that will never cut, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

There’s more silence. He feels like he can’t breathe, the tense atmosphere forcing its way around his throat and tightening its grip. He doesn’t know how long it takes you to even contemplate replying, let alone allow yourself to respond. Belphegor’s ears ring almost deafeningly loud. He can’t take it.

“You’re right.” 

His eyes, which he trained to the ground, dart up to your profile once more. You pause, wetting your lips. 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

There’s not enough time to process your words before he really, really looks at you. Almost fearlessly, you meet his eyes. 

Almost fearlessly. 

The shaking of your hands betrays the strength of your voice. Belphegor’s chest aches. 

“But…”

There’s a pause as you speak. He can’t look away again, even as your eyes meet the stars once more. There’s no chance he’ll miss a word you say, even if it tears him apart.

“It’s… it’s really difficult. I know you know that, but…”

Each time you pause, Belphegor’s mind begins storming. He can’t figure out what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to react, and it drives him crazy. He’s usually so good at reading people, but you’re an enigma. It sends a chill down his spine. 

His throat is caught. Even if he had words to say, they wouldn’t be able to come out. So he sits in silence as you find your own. 

“I don’t want you to feel worse than you do.” You lick your lips. “Or maybe I do? I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you, Belphie.”

The nickname tugs at his heart, more than he could ever admit. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to do anything other than look at your melancholy face, knowing he’s the problem. He wants to run and hide, to sleep forever. He can’t, though. Not when you’re here. Not now. 

Knuckles turn white as he clutches desperately onto his pillow. His breath shakes as he draws in air. 

“I want to love you. I want to love you as much as I love your brothers, and care about you as much as I care for them…”

You struggle to find the words. 

“... But it’s hard.”

You curse your lack of eloquence. Now, of all times, when your words are the only thing that enable you to communicate how you truly feel, they fail you. This might be your only chance to ever properly show Belphegor how you feel, what makes you so conflicted every time he walks into the room with a smile on his face, and yet all you can say is “it’s hard”. Obviously. 

A breath finds its way into your lungs, and the sound of your lips parting in the otherwise silent planetarium echoes in your ears.

You continue.

“It’s hard because every time I see your face, or I hear your voice, or I-”, you falter, heart catching in your throat, “or you touch me, I can’t help but be reminded of what happened.”

Belphegor doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from your form. The grief that settles into his face perfectly matches your own, eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. Even the trembling of your hands is replicated in his own. He’s never seen you like this, so incredibly vulnerable, and it tears him apart inside to know that he is the cause of it.

A shuddery breath comes from Belphegor, and you fight your instincts to check if he’s okay. You know he isn’t.

The silence deafens you, thundering in your ears so harshly that you're tempted to place your hands at the side of your head to muffle how quiet it is. You don’t, however, and whether it’s because you don’t want to look crazy, or because you’re afraid you might shatter if you move, you’ll never know. Do you want him to talk? Do you want him to say anything? Do you want an apology?

If you had an answer for that, you’re sure that things would have patched themselves up much quicker than this. You caution a glance at Belphegor, and the weight pressing down on your chest gets heavier at his expression. It feels almost as if you can inhale the guilt he feels, the emotion radiating off of him in waves.

“I… Logically, Belphie, I get it.” Again with that cursed nickname. Usually, hearing it from your lips makes Belphegor feel warm and goddamn near giddy, but now it only seemed to drive the knife in his gut further. 

“I understand what happened and why you did it. I may not agree… but I get it, you know?” You swallow.

“In the end, I’m still here. And… and I’ve come to learn that you’re nothing like that anymore. You’ve grown, and changed, and the guilt and anger that consumed you took control, and that's why you-- that’s--” 

You pause, clutching the blanket around you to try and ground yourself. The shakiness in your voice is not missed by Belphegor, and even if it had been, there’s no way he’d be able to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Slowly, subconsciously, one of your hands comes up to rest against your neck, a phantom of the grasp that once threatened to crush you.

“S-So… I understand why you did it. And I’m alive, and we’re friends, so it should all be okay, right?” Belphegor casts his glance away.

“But Belphie… as much as I want to forgive you, I also know that I’m never going to be able to forget what happened. It’s there in my dreams, and it’s there in your smile, and it’s there every single time your arm brushes mine and I flinch like a total loser.”

A weak chuckle makes its way out of your chest, and the halfhearted smile that follows forces a tear from your eye. You’re quick to wipe it away, hopefully quick enough so that it goes unnoticed by Belphegor.

It does.

What he does notice, however, is the frustration that holds tight to the edges of your sentences. The frustration is not directed at him, no. You would be yelling if that were the case, and maybe that would be easier for him to hear. No, this frustration is directed at yourself. You’ve been trying so hard, and all Belphegor has been doing is running away. His teeth dig so hard into his bottom lip, trying desperately not to show any anger he feels at himself, that he tastes iron.

“And then we became all buddy-buddy, you know? Like I was never lied to, or used, or manipulated, or-- or--”

Belphegor is torn from his self-pity when you continue, and he almost wishes you’d stop speaking. The thought that you might break him with your words has him shaking, and a feeling similar to fear courses heavily through his veins. Please, stop. He wants to go back to running away.

But you continue, as you always have.

“And I’m left not knowing how to feel. I’m so mad at myself for being such a coward and not being able to just get over it like everyone else, and I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t just exist around you like I do for everyone else. I mean, I used to be terrified of Lucifer, too.” Another fragile laugh, and you sweep the hair from your eyes with a shaky hand. Belphegor swallows hard.

“But I… I can’t pretend like nothing happened. As much as I want to be near you, and hug you, and take naps and play pranks on Luci with you… I can’t. I can’t act as if what I feel isn’t real, and what you did didn’t happen. It’s so hard, Belphegor.” You sigh, and finally look at him once more. He can’t meet your gaze, slumped over himself and hugging his pillow so tight to his chest it seems as if he wishes to disappear into it. “Especially because I really, truly want to understand why everyone loves you so much. And I want to love you, too. I want to know why Beel smiles every time you’re brought up in conversation, and I want to smile just the same. But… But right now, I can’t.”

Talking has gotten easier. The words that used to escape you have become accustomed to being used again, and confidence has restored in your gut. You sit a bit straighter as you watch Belphegor carefully, a sad smile lifting your cheeks. 

Belphegor knows that this is when he should swoop in, say something so intellectual that you’re caught off guard, and he can save you from… himself. This knowledge does nothing to save him from himself. He can’t even open his mouth to mime a sentence, let alone actually speak. The thought of how pathetic he must look settles under Belphegor’s skin, and he can feel his irritation rising. Not at you though, never at you. Not even when… When it all happened. His anger was misplaced, but he has never been angry at you.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too much, he forces himself to meet your gaze. The way you look at him, just as vulnerable and bare and scared as he is… he feels safe. He knows, even though your words sear his heart, that you never mean to hurt him, especially now. You’re being honest, and simply expect the same from him.

Belphegor inhales a deep breath, before willing himself to speak.

“I thought--” he croaks, and quickly clears his throat. Fuck. “I thought that if… if I could pretend that nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have to face any consequences.”

He curses audibly. Just how pathetic can he sound? Belphegor’s voice is hoarse and quivering, and weak. “Weak” is never a word that he would have used to describe himself, but now it echoes hauntingly against the confines of his skull. One of the most powerful demons in existence, and he finds himself quaking before a mere human. He cares for you, though, and he cares for you viciously. Something in Belphegor knows that he’s never going to be able to prove that to you unless he pushes his way through this.

So he forces himself to continue, even with every cell in his body desperately screaming at him to stop.

“I did what I did out of a place of guilt… and regret. I couldn’t stand the fact that it was because of me, that it was my fault, that I’m the reason that Lilith--”

Belphegor stumbles over his own words, and he sets down his pillow before he accidentally tears a hole through it. Instead he braces himself on the cool floor, in need of something steady to hold onto. This whole conversation shook him to the core. He can hardly believe he’s talking about his sister. She’s a topic that he’s avoided even around Beelzebub…

But if Belphegor ever wants even the possibility that you’ll forgive him, he knows he has to. Everything is on the line. His blunt nails press against the tiles and he focuses on steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t accept that it was my fault.” A newfound steadiness weaves its way around his words, and he finds himself sitting a bit straighter. “I’m the one who introduced her to the human world, and kept bringing her back. I’m the reason she suffered, and why the war started, and why we fell, and why she…” Belphegor coughs. “In the end, I couldn’t accept that I’m the one who killed her.

Your heart yearns to tell him that no, he’s wrong, it’s not all his fault. You know it won’t help right now, though, and that it isn’t your time to speak. Settling back a bit, you let your blanket fall from your shoulders. 

Belphegor’s heart stutters, and pounds so hard that he feels like it's trying to tear through his chest. Even so, he doesn’t miss the way your hand reaches out to smooth over his own, and for a moment he feels himself wanting to melt just from the simple touch. 

Belphegor pulls away. He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not yet.

“So… So when you said that you’re a descendant of Lilith, I-- I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the chance to get to know you, learn about what makes you similar and what makes you different. Her blood flows through your veins, and I was quick to ignore what I did in favour of getting to know you, and… and inevitably, becoming just as fond of you as my brothers… but that can’t erase what I did.”

The feeling of understanding floods you and you find yourself nodding at his words. To be completely honest, even now, you’re scared. Your heart beats for many reasons, fear one of them, but you don’t run away. Not anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to even if you wanted to.

Your hand, abandoned next to Belphegor’s, lay dormant. The need to comfort wills you to once again place your hand on his, but you don’t move. When he’s ready, if he ever is, you’ll be there.

Just as he’ll be there for you.

“I killed you, MC. And in doing that, I killed Lilith. Again.”

Countless emotions storm their way through Belphegor’s conscience, despair clawing at his throat, regret snapping his back, and guilt slowly crushing him under its weight. How is it that one can feel so empty, and yet so filled to the brim with misery?

“And not only that, but if I succeeded… I would have completely missed out on getting to know you, and caring about you as much as I do now. It would have been a loss that I never would have understood, but know for a fact that I would have felt. Even… Even when I was proud,” he spits out the word as if it’s poison, “of what I’d done, watching my brothers’ hearts break at the sight of your body… Even then, I felt it. The ache. It’s so fucking stupid.”

His tone, now bubbling with anger, stills you. It’s not directed at you, and you know this, but despite yourself, you freeze. Belphegor notices, and quickly clears his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He allows your heart a moment to slow as he regains his composure, and you find yourself breathing again.

“I know that me saying sorry is never going to cut it.” Belphegor turns his body to fully face you. He’s no longer running from his feelings, or from you. He knows he can’t anymore. Hesitantly, he lifts his trembling hand to place over yours. The muscles in your fingers tense, and he pauses to gauge your reaction. When you slowly nod your head once, he delicately places his hand on yours, using his thumb to gently begin massaging the tension away. “And I know that even if I do everything right from here on out, that there’s a chance that you won’t ever forgive me. And I understand why.”

Your heart sinks at his expression, his gaze locked on your joined hands. As aloof as he normally is, you can see none of that on his face now. When you turn over your hand he quickly pulls away, but your shaky movements to bring his hand back and intertwine your fingers urges him to go on. 

“But I want to try. And really try this time. I want you to be honest with how you feel, whether I’m frustrating you or scaring you or anything like that, and… and I want to be honest with you too. I…”

Belphegor trails off, but you squeeze his hand. He draws in a slow breath. 

“No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, we’re stuck together for the next few months. I want to spend that time getting to know you, and I want us to be as close as you are with any of my brothers… but I also want you to know that you shouldn’t feel forced. If it’s ever too much, I need you to tell me, and I promise I’ll back off.”

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto your face as you quietly agree. Belphegor doesn’t allow himself to try and figure out if it's genuine, out of pity, or sadness, but in spite of everything, it makes him feel a bit lighter. Just a bit.

“This won’t fix everything right away,” you say, and he now knows that your smile is a combination of the three. Along with this, though, Belphegor also knows the small sparkle in your eyes is hope, and he’s willing to take that hope and nurture it for however long he must.

“I know,” he sighs, but even he can feel the small tilt of a smile on his face, “but I’m willing to take as much time as you need to decide how you feel about me. And… And if you decide you hate me, which is fair, and that you never want to even be in the same room as me, I’ll respect your wishes.

Until then...Until you decide that you really, truly hate me, I won’t stop trying.”

There’s no way of telling how long his words linger in the air around the two of you, circling around your heads and making their way through your body. Even so, Belphegor diligently watches you, wanting to make sure he’s not overstepping his bounds. He even contemplates letting go of you, but is reassured when slowly, almost unnoticeably, you begin smoothing out the lines on the back of his hand with your thumb.

As much as you want to tell him that you could never hate him, you also know you can’t promise anything. Still, for now, just as much as him, you’re willing to try. You stay in silence, more comfortable than you’ve ever been in his presence, gently caressing the hand held in your own.

Eventually, Belphegor clears his throat once more. The vulnerability has made him tense and rendered his voice weak. 

“Can… can you hug me?” He all but whispers, fragility making his body quiver once more. He was completely open about his feelings for the first time in a lifetime, and the intensity of it left him craving affection. He knows how unfair this is to you, but he can’t help himself. He wishes to be held, for his fears to be quelled by someone so much stronger than him. “If you don’t want to,” he falters, speaking quickly, insecurely, “I won't even touch you. I-If you do, I promise I can keep my hands behind my back, and I won’t even--”

His words end abruptly as he feels you release his hand, and his heart sinks. He debates running away again, until he hears you moving towards him, and he finds he’s frozen in place. Slowly, but surely, with more courage circulating through your veins than you’ve had all night, you make your way over the blankets that divide you and position yourself right next to Belphegor, pulling him into your chest. Even now, he can feel how quickly, persistently your heart races, and yet you stay. True to his word, Belphegor rests his hands on the ground behind his back, but he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your chest… and he cries. The complete, uninhibited release of his emotions hit him like a truck, and he sobs heavily into you, tears slowly but surely staining your shirt. You adjust yourself so you can hold him closer, slowly and reassuringly rubbing his back as he lets go of everything he’s been holding on to for longer than you can even imagine. This is a man who’s run from his emotions for centuries, and the fact that he’s willing to face them for your sake comforts you, cradles your heart and presses gentle kisses against the cracks. You know that you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with everything okay, but for now… for now you’re comfortable with his touch. Heaving in a deep, steadying breath, you reach down just enough to take Belphegor’s arms, and guide them to rest his hands on your hips. At this silent permission, he slowly, delicately wraps his arms around your waist, despite craving your body closer, wanting to hold you tight and never let go. He cradles you like you’re made of the most brittle glass, and you smile. The gesture touches your heart, and… and you feel safe. You know that all he wants to do is embrace you as tight as he can, but he doesn’t, even with permission. 

Here, in Belphegor’s arms, you feel safe. Here, where Belphegor’s grip on you is so gentle that it wouldn’t even crumple paper, you feel loved. As he cries into your chest, holding you as if you were an antique, hope slowly fills your heart.

Everything is far from perfect, but it’s still on the right track, here in the quiet planetarium.

[songbirdstyles]

rug burn.

summary: you and harry can’t keep your hands to yourselves in your childhood bedroom.

warnings: smut with absolutely no plot

word count: 2.1k

You’re not sure what makes this so erotic to you. Besides the obvious one - Harry, balls deep in your cunt, hand firm around your throat to stop your head from slamming into the headboard - maybe it’s simply the thrill of knowing your mum is just down the hall. Surely, she’s fast asleep with the three glasses of wine she’d nursed throughout dinner coursing through her veins but she has always been a light sleeper, and the way your bed is beginning to bang into the walls of your childhood bedroom is beginning to make you nervous.

“Jesus -” Harry’s a mess, hovering above you. Your legs are around his waist but his grip is beginning to loosen on your thigh, holding it to his torso. When his forehead drops down onto yours you can feel how sweaty he is, even if you can’t see it - the only light from your room comes from your Little Mermaid night light, plugged in beside your bed - and his breathing is nearly heavier than the sound of his hips hitting yours. “Need y’to shut up, baby - bein’ so loud, y’mum’s gonna hear us.”

You know you’re being loud, of course. Harry had delegated your fingers to your clit, pressing them to the sensitive nub until you began rubbing small circles into it, and there’s no possible way you can hold back your soft whimpers. And it is sort of difficult to stop the desperate moans from rising in your throat as his hips slam into yours, short, sharp thrusts briefly transforming to long ones that leave you needy for more.

You’d positively die if your mother walked in on you. Maybe that’s what sends a new rush of arousal straight to your core, making Harry’s thrusts even easier than before.

“Sorry -” but even your voice is just a decibel too loud, and his eyes widen as he stares down at you. The hand that isn’t at your clit rises to cover your mouth, muffling your soft murmurs as you breathe, “Feels so good, Har. Please - just go harder, please.”

His breathing is rattled as he sucks it in, the inhalation cool against your sweaty face. His grip around your neck tightens just so, limiting your airflow so that the stars beginning to dance in front of your vision grow in size. You can tell his intention with your throat has gone to making you shut the hell up instead of stopping the bed from hitting the wall because it’s begun to do just that - the posts of your canopy bed beginning to slam against the wall. “Can’t go harder, not unless you’re quiet.” The smugness in Harry’s tone rings louder than any of your breathy moans and you would roll your eyes if he wasn’t making you feel so damn good. “G’na be quiet for me, so I can make y’feel so good?”

“Yes,” you promise, hardly audible against your clammy palm at your mouth. “But - the bed, Har. Bed’s gonna hit the wall.”

It’s a wonder he managed to understand a lick of what you’d said, between your broken gasps between syllables and muffled words that reek of desperation to be silent, but he does seem to get it. His grip around your throat loosens as his hips begin to slow, giving you long, soulful thrusts that have you pushing your hips forward for more. Slowly you move your palm off of your mouth and press it to the bed, wiping off the sweat and spit from your hand onto your childhood sheets.

“You’re right,” Harry groans, shifting his lips down to press a kiss to yours. It’s wet and sloppy, and your teeth clash against each other as he lets your leg drop back onto the bed. Your muscles burn with the relief of not being hiked up and you could nearly moan at that feeling, as his hips falter until he’s stopped moving completely, and it nearly makes you cry out. “How can I fuck m’sweet girl, jus’ as hard as she wants me, without anyone hearing.”

Truthfully, an answer isn’t coming to your mind. You get too loud when you ride him and there’s no way you’re settling for anything other than the hard, dirty pace you’re aching for. But you can practically sense the gears turning in his head, and before you can question what he means, he’s pulling out of you - just slowly enough that you don’t whine out. 

“What?” You whisper, pushing yourself onto your elbows. The pressure of Harry’s body above yours disappears as you hear him shuffling, shifting off the bed with just the softest creak of the mattress. “Har, where are you -”

Your question never reaches its conclusion as you feel a firm grasp on your ankles, Harry’s digits wrapping around them to begin to pull you off the bed. You gasp quietly, “What’re you doing?” but he doesn’t reply - merely shakes his head, curls flopping against his face in the soft illumination of your night light, and continues to tug you, and you shift yourself off of the bed, plopping on the ground. The rug beneath you is firm and itchy and you can already feel your ass growing sore, but you don’t give yourself time to focus on it.

Harry’s already pushing himself back up to his knees, rifling through the mess of sheets and strewn clothes on your bed. “Need t’make sure you’re quiet,” he murmurs, sitting back on his knees, fist firmly shut around something that you can’t quite see. “Gonna have t’shut you up.”

When he opens his fist you squint down at the scrap of fabric, sitting in his palm - as you’d slightly expected, it’s the pair of bright red panties you’d been donning earlier. You can smell the scent of your arousal, laced on the fabric, and your eyes flicker up to Harry’s with just a hint of confusion.

“What ..?”

But you don’t get time to finish the question - the second your mouth opens, he’s shoving your panties in your mouth. You can taste your arousal as well as smell it, opening your mouth wider to accept the fabric. It gags you just as well as Harry had hoped and you can see the cockiness in his eyes - the glint of joy, seeing you rendered physically speechless - before he’s pushing you against the ground, back scraping uncomfortably against the carpet, but you find you don’t exactly hate the feeling.

“Think y’can be quiet for me, now?” Harry whispers, lowering his body back overtop of yours. One of his hands instinctively drags up your chest, pauses to fondle your tits for just a second - rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, grinning at the way you shiver - before landing on your neck. He squeezes your throat once for good measure, and the sound of your gasps hitching in your throat is like music to his ears. “Guess y’have t’be, don’t you.”

It’s not a question you were meant to answer but Harry doesn’t allow you a window to. You push yourself to your elbows, squinting through the faint darkness as your boyfriend grabs your calf, hoisting your left leg first over his shoulder. The ache of your muscles hurts in a way that’s so goddamn good and you want to sob out at the feeling, especially as he reaches back down and pulls your right one up with it. You’re so exposed to him and perhaps this is the moment where you should feel a bit of shame, having your legs thrown over his shoulders with his hand around your neck in your childhood bedroom but you can’t bring yourself to.

It feels too good. And with the way Harry squeezes your neck firmly as he sinks into you, other arm hooked firmly around your left leg to keep it up - well, your mind nearly immediately explodes into overdrive and you couldn’t possibly begin to think about anything other than this.

Jesus, you want to moan, and you squeeze your eyes shut out of habit. Your panties in between your teeth are as good for keeping you silent as Harry seemed to have hoped, but they’re not doing much to keep his noises down. His low grunt as he bottoms out, how he hisses when you hook your ankles around his neck - God, he’s a hypocrite, isn’t he? And when you’re not in this position, you’ll rub it in his face.

“Rub y’little clit f’me, baby,” Harry mumbles, breathing laboured as he pulls out of you before pushing back in, the faint sound of your wetness ringing out in your room. “C’mon, baby. Need t’rub it - yeah, s’a good girl.”

Shaky fingers slide down to where your bodies are connected, nearly choking on your panties as it muffles your desperate moan. The first two circles of your digits on your clit makes you feel like you could cum on the bloody spot, your back arching up from its spot on the scratchy carpet, legs burning from the stretch of resting over Harry’s shoulders. It’s all so overwhelming and all you want to do is scream out - you can already feel your walls fluttering around his cock and you know you’re not going to last too long. Not with him, rolling his hips into yours so hard you can’t even hear his small whispers of encouragement, how he turns his head to the side to press an opened mouth kiss to your calf - and you’re not sure how well your arousal soaked knickers will hide your telltale cry as you cum.

“God, you’re so tight f’me,” Harry groans, just a tad too loud, but it’s still too quiet to be heard over the sound of skin slapping skin. You toss your head back against the ground, eyes rolling back into your head and you can feel your body fucking spasming with the waves of pleasure that roll through you. You’re so close you can taste it but you know he isn’t there yet - and you know that you’re not done until he is. “G’na cum around m’cock, hmm? Yeah, y’are - can feel it. Can feel y’little cunt clenchin’ around me. Why don’t you pinch y’clit for me, there? Like when I do that, don’t you?”

Two digits circle your clit, drenched in your arousal and so sensitive that just your fingernail brushing the sensitive nub has your hips jerking up into Harry’s. The motion pushes him even deeper inside you than you thought he could go and you can tell he feels it too - his mouth drops open, eyes rolling back, and you barely have time to reach up and slap your hand over his mouth to stop his throaty groan from piercing the air.

You can feel Harry’s lips, puckering to press kisses to your palm slapped over his mouth, as you finally give your clit the pinch he’d told you to - and, God, it gets just the effect it always does. Your skin erupts in shivers and you can’t help clenching around him, pulling your hand off of his mouth to slap against the rug. Nails dig into the material as your hips buck up to his again, feeling the ball of pressure in the pit of your stomach finally coming undone, and the rush of your first orgasm flows through you.

“Fuck, yes,” Harry grunts, head flopping forward as your walls clench and unclech around his cock. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, cummin’ around m’cock like tha’ - shh!” Your whines have started to work through the panties in your mouth and his hand rises from your neck, pressing, instead, against your mouth and holding the drenched underwear where they belong. He gets so bloody arrogant about this and you’d love nothing more than to smack that smug little grin right off of him - perhaps tie him up, show him who’s boss - but that can wait for another time. It’s all you can do to stare up at him with watery eyes, welling over with both the intensity of your orgasm and how fucking hard it is to hold back the moans that so desperately want to break free. 

And Harry’s staring down at you like you’re a goddamn meal, orbs burning with desire. His tongue darts out to lap at his lips so much that they’ve developed what seems to be a permanent glisten and his nails dig into your calf as he squeezes your leg just so, grin widening at how you hiss. “Make sure you’re fuckin’ quiet f’me,” he breathes, raising his eyebrows at you, squirming beneath him. “Don’t want t’have t’punish you, bein’ so loud. Know you got a few more in there f’me - think y’can come around m’cock a few more times?”

[milkbaer]

love to hate you | Part 1

“The prince of Prussia asks the princess of Bavaria for a dance; both absolutely hate it.”

💐 | masterlist | next

• Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Reader (Princess of Bavaria) • Word count: 2.8k • Warnings: none, except for spelling and grammar mistakes, and historical inaccuracy ✨ we alter history to make it fit the narrative ✨ • A/N: @netflixton on made me write it! Well, somehow. But I really have to thank both her and @onlymexsarah because they did not only bring me much joy with their stories but also lots of inspiration. Thank you so much! Really 🥺💖 I hope reading it brings you as much joy as I had writing it. Oh, and I had planned to post another Friedrich story first, but this one was faster. Ah and btw, I’m not Bavarian, sorry my dear Bavarian friends if I fuck up :’) • Small dictionary: Griaß di – informal, like Hello! or Greetings! Pfiad de – informal, goodbye Eure Hoheit – Your Highness Kruzifix – usually a plastic of Jesus hanging at the cross, but it’s also used as a way of cursing. Here it’s a curse.

Berlin, Prussia, 1812

To celebrate the birthday of her son Friedrich, Princess Frederica hosted a big soirée, a ball like usual. Her son might not be heir to the throne, well he was in line somewhere, but he needed a celebration worth a member of the royal family. If he was the son of the king this ball would be bigger and even more marvellous. For her son Frederica would do anything. So, she has had the ballroom decorated with his favourite flowers, colours and had adorned at least every window with candles. She had gotten the best Prussian musicians for him, and even the loveliest voices of Hanover.

Only the best for her son’s birthday.

With his constant travels to the British Isles Frederica often didn’t see him for at least a month. And she knew that he’d soon sail away again, maybe this time it would be Scotland or Ireland. She didn’t know exactly. But she knew that she wanted to see her son happy. When Friedrich was happy, Frederica was happy too. But she feared that if he’d marry an English lady, she’d see him even less.

Maybe she’d have to settle for England too …

 Friedrich loved his mother and not only because she was the only parent left to him. He loved her dearly. It sounded cheesy but she was the best mother he could’ve ever wished for. He was thankful for the party; he knew how much work his mother has put in it. But this evening was delaying his departure for England by two days.

He loved his mother, really, he did. But instead of dancing with debutantes, daughters of family friends, and cousins, he wished to feel the rocky movement of a ship under his feet. Instead Friedrich had to be careful so that no feet would land on or under his.

After he had danced with three of his cousins, he was in desperate need of a break. Especially after having danced with his cousin Charlotte, who was a very passionate and fiery dancer. Instead of leading her, it felt like she was the one who swept him across the ballroom.

But as a prince, and birthday boy, it wasn’t easy to reach the plate filled with lemonade. Everyone needed to talk to him, and Friedrich was too polite to reject them. So, when he gulped down a glass of lemonade it felt like heaven trickling down his throat. He reached for another one, the glasses were far too tiny, when they announced the arrival of another “important” guest.

“Prince Karl of Bavaria and Princess Marie of Bavaria!” they announced when the couple entered the ballroom. Friedrich groaned, not because of them, but because of what, or better who, had to follow.

“And their daughter, Princess Y/N of Bavaria!”

The devil’s spawn.

Grunting in frustration Friedrich grabbed his glass and sprinted off, vanishing in the crowd. He needed to flee, before one of them saw him and decided to talk to him. Talking to the prince would be okay, but he wasn’t too keen on it either.

He needed to get away them – no, from you, as far and soon as possible.

Of course, his mother had invited them. They were her friends. But couldn’t they have left their daughter at home, far, far away in Bavaria?

Hiding amongst other men silently nipping at his drink, Friedrich hoped that he was invisible. He had avoided the middle of the room and the most obvious corners and pretended talking to other gentlemen. In his mind he was unable to be found.

“Griaß di Friedrich! We haven’t seen each other in ages.” Horrified Friedrich spit out his lemonade. Immediately apologizing to the gentleman, who’s coat he just had stained with the sugary drink.

How the hell did you find him?!

He could hear you laughing, maliciously laughing at him.

Your high, gleeful laughter made his skin prickle with anger, and yes, embarrassment. Only by the sound of your voice he could perfectly imagine how you must look like right now. And when he turned around, gritting teeth, he was absolutely right. You wore the same sly grin and superior face as usual.

Of course, he could tell by your sound how you looked like.

You always looked like this.

Looked at him like that when you met.

Usually Friedrich wasn’t petty when people didn’t follow the etiquette. He preferred not to be addressed as your Highness or Eure Hoheit actually. But he hated that you never addressed him correctly. Since he could remember you called him by his Christian name, always.

He hated how you said his name Friedrich, lightly pronounced with your Bavarian accent and hint of mockery. Especially the way how you rolled the first R made him furious. And it appeared to him, that you knew that and only did that to bother him.

“Eure Hoheit, good to see you,” Friedrich lied through gritted teeth. He never understood why he couldn’t bring himself to call you by your baptized name. According to court, he also bowed to you, but only lightly. He would never fully bow down or worse, kneel for you.

“Hm, the pleasure is all mine,” you replied, but your voice said the opposite. You weren’t pleased to be here, he knew that. But he wouldn’t be pleased to be in Bavaria to face you either.

Oh, and you never curtsied for him. You curtsied for his mother and everyone else but not for him.

“The ball looks lovely,” you said and didn’t sound malicious at all. To his surprise you sounded like you meant it. But he wouldn’t trust you, he wouldn’t do that mistake again. Deep inside he knew that this wasn’t all you had to say. You always had something to add.

Always.

Wary he nodded. “Indeed.”

“It’s good to see that one of you has taste,” you said, examining the decorations with a smile. Frederica made an amazing choice with adorning the windows with candles and adding flowers to the room that matched its colours. You really liked it. Friedrich knew that he was meant by your words. To you he had no taste at all.

His frustration slowly grew to anger. Silently raging with gritted teeth, a strong grip on his glass and a forced smile on his face, he asked you. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

Why couldn’t he believe you?

“Just formal greetings. And now my deed is done. So, pfiad de Friedrich!” You bid him goodbye in a singsong with wiggling fingers..

Before Friedrich could say anything in return, you walked off to god knows where. Gulping down his drink, again, in anger he watched you waddle off, until you merged with the crowd. Friedrich sighed in relief; he hadn’t even realized that he was holding his breath. Frustrated he rubbed his free hand slowly down his face.

Why was interacting with you always so exhausting?

 Friedrich wished to enjoy his birthday; he did. Not only for him but also for his mother, Frederica put so much effort in this evening and she was bursting with joy. But with Y/N of Bavaria attending he couldn’t relax. Even now, standing beside his mother, it was impossible for him to loosen up. Somewhere in the back of his mind was you, cackling like the witch you were, constantly reminding him that he did not want to encounter you again.

“I know you wanted to depart for England today,” Frederica suddenly said. “I’m sorry.”

Her apology took him by surprise. She doesn’t need to, sure he had had different plans, but he was enjoying his feast in the presence of his mother.

“For what?”

She smiled sadly at him, looking up at her taller son. “For keeping you here when you could be in England instead.”

Frederica warmed his heart, she always did. He clasped his mother’s hands in his. “Mother, I love it. England will still be there in two days or a week. It can wait but my mother cannot, you’re more important to me.”

Giggling she slapped his arm in a friendly, loving manner. “Oh, you. – I see you’re becoming a real charmer.”

Friedrich laughed at that. He didn’t know if he was that charming.

Princess Frederica looked proudly at her son, a warm smile tugged at her face. His father hadn’t been the best and their marriage a disaster, but she was proud of what Friedrich has become. He was so different than him. She just hoped that Friedrich didn’t end up like them and found love, and happiness in marriage.

 The party was going on for hours, and the prince slowly grew tired. His unwanted meeting with Y/N and the fiery dances with his cousin Charlotte, after the second dance she accused him of being a bad dancer, tired him out. Tonight, Friedrich had talked a lot, danced a lot, bowed and kissed hands a lot. He was tired and hoped to retire soon. Maybe if he talked to his mother …

But to his resentment she had a different plan in mind.

“Do me a favour,” Frederica said and pushed his arm towards the crowd. “And please ask Y/N to dance, will you? – She didn’t get to dance a lot, I can’t let the poor thing leave like that.”

Her son snorted, rolling his eyes. You were everything but definitely not poor.

The last person he wished to see was you, but he was too tired to protest so he marched unenthusiastically to the crowd. It took him some time to find you, to be fair, Friedrich didn’t do his best to find you. His subconscious led him the wrong ways, so he wouldn’t have to dance with you.

But there you were, standing beside your mother and looking almost as tired as he felt. He had no idea if you had arrived this day or yesterday at Prussia, and he didn’t care, but it sure must have been tiring. Sluggishly he approached you and greeted both you and your mother with a friendly fake smile. By the look of your eyes he could see that you were surprised to see him, and as uninterested as he was.

He took your hand, no, he had to grab it and hold it firmly for pretending to kiss it. The day his lips would touch your hands, or any other part of your body, would be the end of the world. Some sort of apocalyptic scenario. As soon as he had taken your hands in his, he had felt a small tug from your arm. You had wanted to pull your hand away, and still wanted to do so. But to your dismay, his grip was too tight.

Annoyed you pressed your lips together, which delighted Friedrich. Most of the time he despised you, but he loved it when he managed to irritate you. Oh, he’d surely frame this picture in his mind and put it to his gallery of ‘Y/N vexed faces’.

“I’d be more than honoured if you’d dance with me,�� he lied, and you knew.

“No.” was all you said. And for a second, he taught that it was done, and he could retire to his mother. But your mother, Marie of Bavaria had other plans.

“She’d loved to, more than anything else.” She shot you, her daughter, a chiding look and shoved you right into his arms. Which mother would let the opportunity slide for her daughter to dance with a prince, even if she was a princess herself?

 Both young adults groaned but didn’t object. Friedrich rolled his eyes in annoyance when he dragged you to the dance floor. And yes, he really had to drag you. You put much effort in not entering the dance floor.

To both of your dismay the following dance was a waltz.

Grunting he put himself into the right position, squeezing your hands in his and tugging it with him. His grip was a bit too strong for your liking, but you showed no signs of it. You didn’t even wince. You’d would rather chop of your hand than give him the satisfaction of having power. So, you returned his action, and gave his hand a tight squeeze.

“We don’t have to dance,” you said a bit glum.

Friedrich shared the same excitement, but he had – more or less – made a promise to his mother. It was more of a silent promise.

“Yes, we do,” he grunted. “I gave my word to my mother.”

So, this was all Princess Frederica’s fault? You huffed in annoyance. You liked that woman but maybe not so much anymore. But how could you fool? You’d never despise his mother, for that Frederica was way too nice, unlike her son.

“I forgot that you’re a good son,” you mocked him with a perfectly surprised voice. As if he’d usually disappoint his mother. He’d never.

Following the music and other dancers twirled Friedrich you around, savouring that one second of freedom. But far too soon where you back in his arms and the fight for the strongest grip continued. Friedrich knew that he was squeezing hard, even a bit too hard. But your face showed no signs, not even a flinch. You seemed unbothered by it. And he hated it.

So, he changed his grip, squeezed your hand a tad different and harder. You gasped, not able to contain yourself any longer.

Damn Prussian.

“Pardon me, your Highness. I fear my grip was too strong.” Friedrich apologized smoothly with a charming grin. You gritted your teeth; you knew that it wasn’t an accident. He smiled, enjoying his small moment of triumph.

“You did this on purpose,” you snarled. All your dance partner did was feigning his innocence.

“I would never.”

Friedrich twirled you around again. Your mother might have partnered you together but none of you bothered to pretend enjoying this. You only did it because of them.

You two followed the flow of music, the sound and rhythm, which didn’t reflect your emotions. The tune was elegant and yet cheerful, switching from strong and louds chords to gentle and hush. Waltzing to the song would’ve been lotsof fun if you were only dancing with the right man.

Friedrich flinched slightly, pressing his lips together, when you suddenly trod on his toes. Usually his boots would protect him of the stomps of a light, delicate lady. But you tod on his feet with force, with all your power.

“My mother said you were a good dancer,” he said, ignoring his slightly throbbing toes.

Your foot accidentally hit his leg.

He tried not to flinch.

“I never thought of her as a liar, but maybe she did exaggerate your dancing skills.”

Your foot flew against his other shin.

“Oh, I am,” you assured him with an innocent smile, which he knew wasn’t innocent at all. “I think it might be my partner. A dancer is only as good as the one who leads. – Ow!”

“Kruzifix!” you cursed under your breath.

Now it was Friedrich turn to tod on your foot. Thanks to his boots and physiques, and your shoes, he needn’t much to coax out a reaction from you. He sighed theatrical. “I think you might be right.”

And looked at you with a certain grin, you wished to wipe from his face, stepping on your other toes. You glared at him. If eyes could kill, he would’ve been stabbed a dozen times by now.

“It is me who is the bad dancer. But as you said.” Following the tune, he pulled you towards him, making you gasp in surprise, your chests almost touching. You knew that this move was coming but his movements were so abrupt it surprised you. “It is the leader who has the other in their hands.”

According to the rhythm you had to break of, bring some air between you, only to come together again. This time it was you who stepped on the other’s foot again. Your dance was more of a fight and continued until the end. There was a lot of treading, kicking, and squeezing involved but neither of you thought of surrender. Surely several parts of your body would be bruised blue tomorrow.

 When the music grew silent, prince and princess were glad that the dance was over. Except for a formal farewell they said nothing to each other. Worn out did Prince Friedrich returned to his mother and Princess Y/N shuffled grimly to hers. The prince was more than relieved that this farce was over.

In two days, he’d be off to England and Y/N would be stuck far, far away in Bavaria. You and your spite would be far away from him. Friedrich probably had to encounter you next year, at his birthday, again but he’d make sure to never dance with you ever again.

[baepsaesbae]

Do You Love Me, Baby?

Pairing— Any member x female reader    

Genre— SMUT, established relationship, BTS’ pov, a hint of fluff if you squint and close one eye

Warnings— Dom!BTS, sub!reader, face fucking, oral sex (m and f), mild bondage, explicit rough unprotected sex please stay safe irl, choking

Word Count— ~2.8k  

Summary— A member of your choosing can’t wait to reunite with you again after being separated for so long.

A/N— This is different from what I normally post. This fic is in FIRST PERSON from the pov of a member of your choosing. Honestly, it doesn’t even have to be a BTS member, it can be anyone you want (but bc this is a BTS writing blog, that’s how I’m describing it for simplicity’s sake). Please let me know what you think! Much love guys~

It has been three months. Three excruciating months of torment.

 In three months, I have not smelled or tasted an ounce of sweet heaven-sent pussy. Nevertheless, here I am. My girlfriend dropped me off at the airport 3 months ago and each day since has been filled with daydreams of making her irresponsibly scream and moan into my ear. A revolution has taken place in my mind. I have come to the realization that this pussy is the one that will take me to the end game. Little by little I scratch and claw back to my sanity. Lick by lick, thrust by thrust, my dreams show me how much I yearn for my baby’s pussy. Until one day I had enough, and I would take no more. I finally cleared my schedule to spend time with my babygirl. I only had one objective: fucking my girlfriend senseless. The time was nearing.

See, the fun part of my relationship is that we both share the same goal. We want to pleasure each other in any way possible. This allows for more opportunities in a lot of situations. A party where everyone is outside? Easy quickie in the restroom. A family party in the house? Easy quickie in the restroom. A hotel room with insulated walls? Easy repeated thrusts into the dome of her clit while my dick rims the outside of her pussy. Regardless, I am having rough sex with my bratty babygirl.

Would you look at that, I just checked into a hotel room with insulated walls nothing but about five minutes away from her house. I had no other plans.

“Hey baby, I’m here,” I texted.

“Ohh?” she texted back.

“I can come pick you up,” I offered.

“No! I’ll just meet you there” she refuted.

My baby wanted to make sure she was ready; she knew what she was getting herself into.

“Give me 10 minutes,” she followed up

I took those ten minutes to do push-ups and sit-ups to make sure my body was in pristine shape for her. Then the time finally came.

“Baby !! I’m here!” she messaged.

I rushed to the elevator pressing the button as fast as could. I was tapping my foot as the elevator slowly sunk its way down to the bottom floor. She was sitting outside of the back entrance of the hotel waiting for me to open the door. I met her with the biggest hug followed by a sincere kiss on her soft lips. That initial kiss sent me into a remedial state of recollecting all those nights we shared. Never in my life did I think I would be so in love, yet I stood there, shocked.

“Baby… do you want to go back to your room?” she brought me back to reality.

“Let’s go,” I responded, taking her hand in mine.

Both of us were wound up, ready to release our hormonal excitement onto each other, but we both acted like nothing was any different. As if we’ve been seeing each other every day.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“I’ve been good, you?” she answered quickly.

“Oh, you know just chillin,” I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Ah...” her voice trailed off.

I was standing there edging and riding the thin line of sanity looking at the hottest woman on earth positioning herself next to me. The only thing holding us back was this elevator, until I became aware of that. I rushed to meet her next word with my lips and pinned her against the elevator wall. I quickly checked to see if there was a camera in the elevator, but to our luck there was not. I began running one of my hands through her hair, while the other got a firm grip onto one of her big bountiful butt cheeks. We had a long way to go up to the fiftieth floor, and I wanted to use every ounce of time I had. My hand slowly rode down breaking into her slit, she looked at me deep into my eyes and nodded to keep going. I placed my left index finger onto her clit and began rubbing. She kept removing her lips from mine to brace for the impact on each pass-over.

“Baby, let’s go to the room,” she said impatiently as we got to my floor.

We sped out of the elevator, jogging our minds to figure out whether to go left or right. Time was of essence, every second we wasted was a second in which I was not inside of her. Even through our horny daze we chose the correct direction. I found myself at my door swiping with haste, only to find patience as my true virtue. After the fifth time and finally slowing down the door unlocked.

The immediate second the door slammed shut I proceeded to slam her against that same door and put my hand down her pants again. Slowly rubbing against her clit, I made her jolt in a random direction with each circle. She pushed me off.

“Get onto the bed,” she winked.

She walked into the bathroom while I laid myself onto the bed ready to be led astray. She walked out wearing nothing but a lacy lingerie set she had been saving for me. She slowly toppled me with a daring intent in her eyes. I brought both of my hands to land firmly on the cheeks behind her body. She moaned with excitement.

“Come here,” I growled as I wrapped my arms around her back and brought her lips closer to mine.

I missed her. I missed her soft voice comforting me when I felt the loneliest. I missed her wet pussy wrapped around my cock. But how could I miss her when she was right here on top of me? I dug my face into her chest giving attention to each nipple. She let out small yelps when I licked them the right way, and I continued to do so over and over. I moved my hands lower and lower until I reached her slit once again. I ran my right hand under her lingerie to dig into her wet pussy, reminding me of how much she wanted me. This only invigorated me to seize the moment and take action. I grabbed her by the waist and used my strength to pull myself up and over placing myself on top.

“Did you miss me baby?” I questioned.

“Yes, of course,” she mewled.

I began to place my lips on her neck as she responded. I kissed every inch until I started to slowly run my tongue across the side of her neck.

“Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”  I playfully bit her ear and whispered.

I gradually kissed my way down to her breasts to bring attention to them again. I love playing with her breasts. She sometimes gets self conscious of them, but they bring me joy, especially when they’re right in front of my face. All the while, I’m bringing my right hand down in between her legs to scout ahead. I feel a waterfall pour onto my finger and realize my descent was about to begin. Inch by inch my lips walk downwards to find themselves in between her legs and I halt.

“Look at me,” I demanded.

She never liked looking at me when I went down on her, but I wanted her to. As of lately I would wait for her to make eye contact with me to begin putting my tongue on her juicy slit. She had no other choice, if she wanted to go forward, she had to obey. I slid the lingerie over enough to expose her to me. She looked me in the eyes and I ran my tongue up her lips. I would stop each time she would look away, forcing her to heed to my wishes. I landed my tongue onto her clit and repeatedly flicked my way into hearing her whimper in enjoyment. The cards were dealt, there was nothing she could do. She was playing into my hand, and that’s how it would be. I quickly began rubbing my left index finger against her lips while I ate her clit out. Soon I inserted my finger rubbing against her top wall causing her moan. I dug further and curved my finger upwards to push against the reverse side of her clit causing her to escalate her moans. She became wet enough to allow me to insert my middle finger and continue to press up against her clit.

They say three is the magic number, and three fingers is all my baby needs. Once my fingers were drenched in her juice I slammed three of my fingers into her with the intention of finishing her off. I began to thrust my hand upwards and outwards to hone in on her g-spot while I slid my tongue directly on her clit with aggression.

“Go faster,” she fit in between her breaths.

I jammed my fingers faster and faster pushing her to her limits while she screamed and yelled, “Keep going baby!”

Over and over.

“Fuck!”

Over and over, faster and faster.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop!”

Each motion pushed more of the consequences onto the bed sheets, but nothing was going to stop me from finishing her. I slid my tongue up and down her clit while I struck her g-spot with rhythmic precision gradually increasing the speed. Increasing the severity of the moans, increasing the decibels in the room, increasing the intensity of her orgasm until she came crashing down all over my hand. She was shaking.

She had not had enough, she craved more. She wanted more of me, she wanted all of me inside of her.

“Baby, I want you to fuck me.”

I have been waiting for this. I ripped my pants off and began stroking my hard-throbbing cock against her clit.

“Why are you teasing me,” she said in a bratty tone.

“Beg,” I said. “Beg.”

“Hmph,” she whimpered.

“Beg,” I held my ground.

“Baaaaby,” she panted in a bratty tone once again.

“Beg for me baby,” I instructed softly while still teasing her entrance.

“Fuck me baby, I want all of you inside of me, please!”

I put the tip right on her opening and looked my baby in the eyes. I slowly add weight into the stroke and place the head of my cock inside of her trembling pussy arriving at the feeling of bliss and serenity. The moment that I have been waiting for. The soft plush alluring walls that tempt and mock me. I push forward and her inner walls and my cock meet as if two old friends catch up on forgotten memories. Forward and inward, my room receives a welcoming moan from me. I take this time to lean in.

“I love you baby.”

She was too caught up in my soft deep strokes to respond. I pushed her legs as far outwards as her flexibility would allow and gained grip on my feet like dropping an anchor. I proceeded to pound my dick downwards producing sloppy wet noises from her pussy.

“Do you love me?”

She was too preoccupied with trying to think straight to be able to respond. So, I took a hand off one of her legs and started rubbing my thumb on her clit as a punishment.

“Baby, do you love me?”

Still no response. Only whimpers.

I removed the other hand from her leg and gently placed it around her throat.  I continued to synchronize my thrusts with the motion of my thumb. I got close to her face.

“Baby, do you love me?” I repeated.

I was not going to give her a chance to respond until I felt like she deserved it. Each thrust prevented her from answering my question. I used this opportunity to punish her again. I slowly removed my cock from her while pushing her arms into the bed and bringing my body forward onto her.

“Let me give you a reason not to speak.”

I brought my cock up to her lips and she opened her mouth like the good girl that she was. I pushed myself down her throat. She couldn’t take all of me. Yet, I pushed myself further and further through her wet mouth still asking the question.

“Do you love me, baby?”

Knowing well that she could not respond, I still wanted to punish her. I reached over to my drawer and grabbed a red ribbon. I flipped my baby over and tied her hands behind her back. I then took my cock and eased in from behind her. This was her favorite position and she was about to be reminded why. I railed her with furious strokes causing a mess to spew all over the bed, but nothing was going to stop me.

“Fuck baby fuck,” she yelled.

I kept pivoting my dick further down into her wall causing both parties to get dangerously drenched. She screamed and yelled louder and for more to hear.

“Oh my fuck, keep going!”

I grabbed her by her tied up hands and pulled her closer. I used my other hand to wrap around her throat and fucked her as hard as I could.

“Baby right there! Don’t stop!”

I was not going to stop.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

I slammed her head back down onto the bed and used my arms to push her shoulders deep into the mattress. Each pulverization sent a shockwave through her ass cheeks, ricocheting back to me only to meet the next crushing blow. Incomprehensible sounds came muffled from her mouth as it was dug into the sheets. More and more liquid came splashing out onto the bed. More and more screams would grace my ear like soothing music. Our moans were our duet, and this bed was our stage. We had been putting on a spectacular piece, but she was the star of the show. I laid every inch of myself into her at a decelerating pace. Her whole body began quivering on my cock as she released herself all over me. She became numb as I slowly eased her off her orgasm and fell flat onto the bed. With whatever strength she had left.

“Your turn. Lay down baby,” she commanded.

I did what she asked but she was still tied. From under her, I grabbed her by the ponytail I made with my hands and slowly pushed her head down onto my dick. Up and down, up and down, as she gagged and choked on me.

“Baby, can I cum in your mouth?” I pleaded.

“Mhm” she mumbled with me inside of her throat.

I relentlessly push her deep down on my cock with rapid succession forcing her saliva to spread over every inch. I wanted something that I still hadn’t gotten. I pulled her head off my cock.

“Do you love me baby?” I asked one last time.

“I love you, darling” she said while trying to catch her breath.

I then threw her head back onto my tip and unrelentingly thrust my cock into her mouth until I came down her wet throat. I pulled her hair back to make her look at me while she swallowed my seed. I took my hand off her head, but she continued to stroke my dick with her lips and ran her tongue around my head trying to tease me. When she was done I got up, untied her, and pulled her close to give her a big kiss.

       She is the love of my life, she makes me happy, and she loves me to death. She laid her head on my chest and I began to stroke her hair. We started to share our adventures from the past three months filled with laughter and smiles from ear to ear. I couldn’t help myself but to think “I’m going to marry this woman one day.”

Published February 26th, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.

[mypoisonedvine]

Rainstorm (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

credit goes to @princess-of-riviaa for this idea although I think I took it in a slightly different direction than she intended… I hope she won’t mind ;)

this isn’t a “dark fic” in the traditional sense because Bucky himself isn’t very bad (he’s in Winter Soldier mode so he’s no saint, but he’s not a sadist either, just kinda morally ambiguous) but the situation and topics are pretty dark so be wary.  

Summary: the Winter Soldier has basic biological needs.  HYDRA has hypotheses about the hereditary capabilities of super soldier serum.  You’ve been brainwashed into believing that these two goals are your life’s purpose, and that nothing would make you happier than to be at the mercy of HYDRA’s favorite weapon.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: kind of non con* (see below), somewhat painful loss of virginity, mention of blood, captivity and grooming and general HYDRA nastiness

*This is certainly non con because the reader has been brainwashed to comply to orders, but it has none of the trappings of traditional non con fare for the exact same reason.  She’s not gonna resist and she doesn’t want to, it’s just that she lacks, on a greater level, much of a choice.

The scientist made a final adjustment to your hair, putting every curl exactly in its place.  He examined your face before nodding proudly.  “You’re ready.  Let’s go to his room.”

You tried to contain your thrill, following the scientist closely and listening to the echo of your heels on the concrete floor.

The scientist used his fingerprint to unlock the soldier’s door, and as it slid away, you finally saw him in person for the first time.  He was standing in wait, and turned to look at you through the doorway.  Your heart skipped a beat, properly; you were excited to see him, and yet so terrified.  You had been training for months for this exact moment.  There was so much riding on this, and you found yourself afraid that he would be disappointed.

“I have someone here we’d like you to meet,” the scientist informed the soldier.  As you stepped inside, he looked at you with a hint of confusion.  “We understand that you’ve been stressed.  She’s here to help with that.”

The soldier furrowed his brow.  “A woman,” he observed.  He hadn’t seen one in quite some time, at least not this up close.

“This woman represents a lot of money, and time, and research.  She’s not as strong as you, so be careful, but what she lacks in agility she makes up for in obedience.  I promise you, it knows no bounds.”

“She’ll do anything I say,” he realized-- or maybe it was a question.

“She’s eager to please,” the scientist smiled, “and she lives to serve.”

The soldier placed a finger under your chin and you jumped a little before allowing him to move your head side to side as he examined you.

“Is she not to your liking?” the scientist asked nervously.  “We can make some changes.  The hair and outfit can be different.  We figured you would want a… domestic look.”

You tugged at the bottom of your dress, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under your soldier’s observation.  

“No, she’s…” he trailed off and began again.  “She’s beautiful.”

You felt your face getting hot and you shuffled your feet nervously.

“I’ll leave you two be, then,” the scientist nodded before awkwardly stepping back.  “One thing, soldat,” he added, looking the soldier in the eyes.  “Do whatever you need to with her in order to… relax.  We ask only one thing in return: your mission is to impregnate her.”

The soldier nodded and the scientist finally left.  

You felt very aware of the silence in the room as the soldier began to pace around you.

“You were created for me,” he posited.  You nodded quickly.  “Well, get on with it then.  Show me what you can do.”

You dropped to your knees, looking up at him as you palmed the front of his pants.  You felt his cock underneath the fabric growing harder, and you smiled.  

His uniform was somewhat difficult to open but you did your best and finally managed to get his cock exposed.  

You remembered what you had been trained to do and set forth to your task.  You had been programmed to love whatever he loved, get pleasure from his pleasure.  So as his head fell back and his fingers laced through your hair, you moaned with him, taking his cock as deep into your throat as you could fit it.

He was bigger than the men who had trained you, and harder to swallow.  You did your best and earned a groan from him in reply.  The fingers in your hair curled into a fist and the pain of your hair being pulled was unexpected but arousing.  

You used your hand to stroke the parts of him your mouth couldn’t reach.  You looked up and watched him as he watched you, his eyes piercing into you with fiery intensity. 

“Stop,” he gritted out suddenly.  You pulled back and released his cock from your mouth. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimpered, “I’ve done something wrong.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I have a mission of my own.  Stand up.”

You obeyed quickly, so quickly that you felt a little light-headed.  

“Take off your dress,” he commanded.  It was designed to come off easily, and with just a few opened snaps it fell to the ground.  “Help me take off my chest plate,” he added, and you stepped forward to begin undoing the straps of his gear.  He watched your nimble, delicate fingers and thought they looked a bit out of place next to his armor.  But you did manage to get it off, and he shrugged his shoulders to help you slide it off his arms.  Instead of tossing it to the ground though, you folded it and set it on top of a nearby counter-top.  

“What did you do that for?” he asked.

“Would you like me not to?” you countered.

“No, it’s fine,” he nodded.

He took off his boots and you set them aside while he shimmied off his trousers.  You didn’t stare at his naked form for too long, because he hadn’t asked you to, but you were sure you’d never seen anything so perfect.  You understood that you were made for him, but now it felt like he was made for you too, in a way.  

He pulled you towards him, pressing his body against yours.  He was so warm, and you smiled as you melted into his embrace.

“Kiss me,” he requested.  You slipped your arms around his neck and leaned in, but stopped just as your face was right against his.

“How?” you asked.  He seemed confused.  “There are different ways.”

“Whatever you want to do,” he answered.  That didn’t make much sense to you, but you didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer.  You pressed your lips against his as your eyes fluttered shut, feeling the stubble on his face scratch you a bit.  His hand held the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delicately beginning to explore between your lips.  You moaned a little against him, savoring his taste.  After all this time, it felt so right to be in his arms like this.  Your life had meaning, your existence had value, and you were so lucky to be here providing whatever he needed.

He pulled back from the kiss and you found yourself chasing him for just a moment before you stopped, meeting his half-lidded gaze.  “Mine,” he said quietly.  “All mine.”

You nodded, biting your lip a little.  

He bent you over the bed, one hand tangled into your hair to hold you up and the other guiding his cock to your entrance.

They had prepared you for everything but this.  They explained that you needed to be untouched here, for him, and that you didn’t have to worry about being good at this part.  All you needed to do was follow his instructions.

“Please,” you begged, “put your cock inside me.  I need to feel you inside me.”

He slipped into you in one motion, plowing through the resistance of your walls and grabbing your hips when he bottomed out.  Pain seared through you but it was irrelevant.  He didn’t take long before he began to pull back and push into you again, and you focused on suppressing your whimpers as you figured he wouldn’t like to hear you in pain.  If he wanted to, he would hurt you more, and you were ready for that if it was what he needed.

“Does… does it feel good?” you asked weakly between shallow breaths.

“Yes,” he hissed sharply.  You smiled, sighing with relief as tears of joy prickled your eyes.  

“I’m so happy,” you admitted, savoring the feeling of purpose fulfilled.  “Tell me how to be good for you.  I want to be good for you.”

He leaned in and wrapped his arms around your body, putting his lips right against the shell of your ear.  “You want to be good for me?” he repeated.

“Yes,” you sobbed, “please.”

“Tell me how much you love it,” he demanded.  “Tell me how much you love my cock inside you.”

“Soldat, I love it so much,” you cried, “it’s everything I ever dreamed of.  It feels so good to be yours.  I love your cock inside me.  I love you.”

He laughed a little, kissing the shell of your ear.  “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to,” you explained, “you’re my mission.”

“You’re bleeding a bit,” he realized as he looked down at where your bodies conjoined.  

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“It’s not your fault,” he corrected.  “Don’t apologize.”

You almost apologized again for apologizing, but realized that would be stupid and just murmured out an awkward “okay.”  

“Am I hurting you?” he asked in a way that made you unsure if he wanted to hurt you or not.

“Please don’t stop,” you avoided answering, because it didn’t really matter.

He adjusted his angle so that each movement was deeper, the tip of his cock brushing against something inside you that made you nearly scream from overwhelming sensation.  He was claiming you so thoroughly that you felt like your body was being molded to his shape, just as your mind had been molded to his presence, and it was intoxicating.

You savored every moment of it, hoping it wouldn’t be over soon and you could stay like this for a while-- although you knew a quick finish was a sign of a job well done, so you were a little torn on how to feel.  In the end, you would be satisfied with whatever he gave you.

You’d never been told that you could come, but you were starting to put it together as pressure built inside you, leaving you incapable of suppressing your moans.

“Yes,” you found yourself chanting, over and over, without really meaning to.

“Louder,” he demanded, and you hadn’t known you could get much louder until you did.

“Yes!” you screamed.  

“Beg,” he growled, his own voice growing in volume.  That you definitely knew how to do.

“Please!  Please don’t stop!” you sobbed.  

Even with how loud you were, you could hear the sounds of skin on skin as he pounded into you and you loved it.  You loved the way his fingers, metal and flesh, dug into your hips as he held you down, keeping you from lurching forward from his forcefulness.  You loved the smell of sweat and sex and damp concrete and old leather.  You loved everything about this moment.  

“Fuck, ‘m close,” he grunted.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice nearly going out, “please come inside me, I need it, I need you, I’m yours, soldat, please-- yes!” 

You gasped as an orgasm crashed into you like one of those rainstorms that start with just a sprinkle and then instantly become torrential; thunder, lightning, the whole shebang.  You’d never seen a rainstorm like that, but that’s what you would’ve compared it to if you had.

He moaned loudly when he came, continuing to pump into you until he was sure that he’d spilled every drop.  The flutter of your walls milked his cock encouragingly and it all produced a cycle that you wished could last forever.

“Stay still,” he demanded breathlessly, holding you down even though you had no desire to resist.  “Stay right there, fuck, don’t move.”

You nodded against the pillow.  You listened to his breathing as it slowed, relishing the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you.

He pulled out of you and both of you winced a little, him laying down beside you gently.

“It’s better if you don’t move,” he explained, and you weren’t sure what exactly was better, but you trusted his judgment regardless.  

The bed was small-- it was never meant for two people.  But you loved being pressed against him as he laid on his side and ran his fingers down your back.  It made you shiver, but it made you smile, too.

“Did I do well?” you asked weakly.

“Yes,” he nodded.  

You both caught your breath for a while, and you just soaked in the way his arms wrapped around your shoulders, like you fit together perfectly.  

“Can you handle another round?” he asked quietly after a few minutes had passed.  You jumped up at the opportunity to make him happy again. 

“I can handle anything you need me to do,” you answered eagerly.

He pulled you onto his lap, looking up at you as he maneuvered his cock towards your entrance again.  You sank down onto him and ignored the sting of soreness as your body accepted him once more.

“Yes,” he hissed, “just like that.”

You keened at the praise, arching your back a little more as he pulled you down to lay on his chest.

You felt him holding back a little bit, reacting to your whimpers of pain as his cock pushed even deeper into you than it had before.

“Don’t restrain yourself, please,” you begged.  “I want all of you.”

“I thought this was about what I wanted,” he whispered against your ear.

“It is,” you confirmed, “and I can tell you want more.”

He kissed underneath your ear with a smile.  “I’m afraid I’ll break you.”

“Never worry about me,” you shook your head.

“Ask me for it then.  Ask me for what you want.”

“I don’t want anything that you don’t,” you replied, confused.  He pulled you closer and held you down against his muscled chest. 

“Then ask me for what I want.”

You pulled back from his embrace to examine his face, which was looking back at you expectantly.

“Fuck me hard, soldat,” you begged in a weak voice, “please, I want you to use me--”

Before you could even finish he was grabbing you again and holding you still as he bucked his hips up into you, fucking you ruthlessly.  You cried out with joy as your head fell back, and he leaned into suck at one of your nipples which made your whole body tense up.

“Ride my cock,” he instructed, “show me how much you want it.”

“You know I need you,” you gasped as you followed his command, bouncing on top of him as he released his grip on you to free your movements.  He slipped a finger between your bodies to roughly rub at your clit and you choked.  “S-soldat,” you whimpered.

“Feels good?” 

“I don’t need it,” you explained, “I don’t need anything but you.”

“What if I want you to come right now?  Can you?”

You felt guilt burn through your chest.  “I-I’m sorry,” you cried, “I’m close but… I can’t yet.  I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, stopping you from riding him for a moment.  “I was just curious.  You don’t need to.”

“Please don’t think you need to do anything for me,” you added quickly.

“I want to,” he assured.  “I want you to like it.”

You almost laughed.  What a ridiculous concept.  “I love it.  As long as you’re happy, I love it.”

He smiled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.  “I’m happy,” he whispered, and you started to move again, gasping as you gripped his chest to keep your balance.  

This one was different from the last.  It didn’t make your skin burn or your bones sore.  There was an ache, yes, but a softer one, one that snuck up on you as you clutched his face and he looked at you with an expression that reminded you of how you felt about him.  Like he couldn’t get enough of you, like you were everything, like you were the only thing.

He only asked one thing of you that time.  “Say that you love me again,” he requested in a soft voice.

“I love you,” you told him, and you kept telling him until you were too close to form words anymore and he pulled you into one more kiss, deep and slow and perfect, as you wrapped yourself around each other and fell backwards into the abyss of pleasure.

You laid in silence after that, just holding each other as you waited for your panting to still into slow, meditative breaths.  

You weren’t sure what to do now.  He didn’t seem like he knew, either.

“Would you prefer I keep you company, or that I leave?” you asked.

“Stay,” he decided.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Lay with me.”

You nodded, nuzzling into his chest and letting your eyes flutter shut.

The next few weeks passed relatively quickly.  Certainly faster than any weeks of training had.  There wasn’t much to do but make love so that made up 80% of what you did, the rest going to sleeping and the occasional meal.  One time he taught you about his gun, showed you how to take it apart and put it back together, and you had found it pretty interesting.  Mainly because he was the one explaining it, but still.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his mission but he didn’t.  You woke up to an empty bed, and you’d think you would’ve been prepared for that after years of it, but just so little time with him had spoiled you.  You cried a bit but got over it quickly, straightening up and deciding you needed to be prepared for his return.  You anticipated that he would need a lot from you after having to work.

You were right.  You had been meditating when he flung open the door, and you jumped up.  He looked so different with all his gear on, including the mask and goggles.  

He stormed across the room, tossing away the coverings on his face and kissing you with an intensity that bordered on rage.  You reciprocated, glad that he had finally stopped asking you for what he wanted and learned to take what he needed.  He seemed to understand now that you could handle it.

It was a fury of tearing at clothes and pulling at hair and biting at skin after that, and you ignored the blood in his hair as you ran your fingers through it.

You frankly had no idea what he was doing when he laid you down on the bed only to slide down and start biting at your thighs, though you had no intention to question it.  As he suddenly licked a thick stripe over your sex, it was like you had stumbled into an entirely new world.  He found your most sensitive places and targeted them with the same ruthless efficiency he approached nearly everything in his life.

He had shown you pleasure that made you melt but this was like something else, something that made you grip the sheets and kick your legs and arch your back.  He had to hold your hips down to keep you from bucking against him, and when the growls he emitted against you didn’t get the message across, he let his teeth graze over your bud.  You yelped but finally stilled-- at least, as best you could.

You were speechless, even as you realized that you should remind him that he was focusing too much on you, that you wanted to make sure he was happy too…

But then again, this was what he had wanted.  What he needed, it felt like.  And who were you to doubt that?

So you let your head fall back as he sent you headfirst into a violently powerful orgasm, enough to make your entire body shake as you made sounds you hadn’t realized before that you could make.

And that seemed to only inspire him to keep going, offering you no reprieve as he kept you suspended in the peak of your sensation.

Tears burned your eyes as you were overwhelmed by him, numbness prickling at the tips of your fingers and toes and even in the places he was licking you.  You were so lost in it that you didn’t even notice he had stopped until he slipped his cock into you, still holding your hips down as he finally fucked you.

He stayed upright for a while before leaning down and caging you in under his arms.  He smelled like gasoline and gunpowder.  

“Mine,” he growled, right against your ear, sending chills over your skin.  

“Yours,” you agreed quickly, your voice coming out broken and wavering.  “Just yours, only yours, please--”

He rubbed that spot above your opening with his thumb again and you wrapped your legs around his hips.  “Ohh, yes,” you whimpered.

He kissed you and where you had found fire before, you found rain.  You felt his suffering, the exhaustion that sank deep into his bones and never seemed to leave.  You felt his guilt for leaving you.  You felt his guilt for coming back.

You hoped that you could kiss him back in just the right way that would say everything you wanted to tell him. It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay.

You loved the entire concept of we.  You loved being with him, in any way, although admittedly this way was your personal favorite.  It was the language both of you seemed to understand best.

Just a moment after he pulled back and looked into your eyes, you heard the beeping of his door being unlocked.

He jumped a bit before pulling the wrinkled sheet up over the both of you as the scientist walked in briskly, not even seeming to care that he was obviously interrupting a private moment. 

“Okay soldat, time to go back on ice,” the scientist informed you both mundanely.

“No,” the soldier refused.  “I don’t want to.  I’ll stay awake until the next mission.”

“Not an option,” the scientist shook his head.  “Come on, get dressed and let’s go.”

He sighed as he obeyed, slipping past you and standing up as he found his discarded clothing and put it back on.

“What will happen to her?” he asked, looking at you where you were laying on the bed, nervously clutching the sheet to your chest.

“She’ll wait.”

“You’re going to put her under too?”

The scientist didn’t answer, and the soldier clenched his jaw.  

“You’re going to keep her awake, aren’t you?  So you and your colleagues can keep ‘training’ her.”

Still no answer.

You yelped instinctively when the soldier grabbed you, pulling you up holding you in front of him with a hand around your neck.  You scrambled for footing but made no effort to cover yourself; it was nothing the scientist hadn’t seen before.  You relaxed into the soldier’s arms once you understood what had happened.  You trusted him.  If he hurt you, there would be a reason for it, and you were ready. 

“I’m not going under,” the soldier hissed.  “Don’t come any closer or I’ll kill her.”

The scientist shrugged.  “She’s yours to do with as you please.  It’s no skin off my nose.”

“Didn’t you say that you spent a lot of money on her?”

“We spent more on you.”

“What if I told you that she’s pregnant?”

The scientist’s eyes went wide.  That seemed to get his attention.  “There’s no way you could know that.  Our tests haven’t come back yet.”

“But we both know that she could be.  How much trouble would you get in if the tests come back positive but she’s already dead?”

He pressed his lips against your ear, gripping you tighter.  “You’d die for me, right?  If I wanted to kill you now?”

“Yes,” you nodded as best you could with the metal hand around your throat, “of course.  Anything for you.”

“Maybe you trained her too well,” the soldier mocked as he addressed the scientist again.

“Alright, alright,” the scientist relented, “we’ll meet your demands just… let her go.”

“I won’t go under,” he repeated, “and no one will touch her but me.”

“Of course,” the scientist rushed, “anything.  Let her go, please.”

The soldier dropped you to the floor and you clung to his legs, laying yourself at his feet.  The scientist slinked out of the room, apparently to inform everyone that the soldier would not be going into cryo as expected, but all you could think about was what he had said.  No one will touch her but me.  It was like a dream come true.  You could stay with him and make him happy, he wouldn’t have to leave you, you wouldn’t have to practice on anyone.  You could just be his. 

He knelt down to join you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you.  “Never let anybody near you but me, okay?  You’re mine.”

You nodded, looking up at him with teary eyes.  “Of course.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you like that.  I’m gonna protect you.”

“Whatever you want,” you insisted.  You felt his hand on your stomach and you looked down at it, putting your own hand on top of his.

“They’re going to take it away,” he realized solemnly.  You weren’t sure what to say.  You just wanted him to feel better.  He looked at you and glanced to where you both knew a camera was watching you from the corner, and he leaned in to kiss your cheek.  “We won’t let them,” he whispered.  “We’re going to get out, with the baby.”

You nodded a little, and leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder.  You closed your eyes as he stroked your hair and at some point you fell asleep, and you dreamt of things you didn’t understand-- freedom, choice, family.  You dreamt of a world you hadn’t experienced yet; or at least, one that you couldn’t remember.  He stayed awake, but as he carried you to the bed in his arms and laid beside you, he was dreaming too.

[cherrysha]

Trust

hey ya’ll! Ive decided to answer asks in a new post, instead of continuing off of the asks. this is mostly because i answered like two seperate Uvo asks in one go. ALSO wanted to mention that i refer to the reader as ‘small’ in this one, and i by no means am small myself, its just that Uvo is 8 feet tall. Everyone is small to him, and everyone is capable of being manhandled by him. (also im going to use this gif of Uvo until the day i die)

@nav-chamberlain asked:

when you’re ready girl feel free to reply but nsfw scenario with uvo that has a breeding kink. y/n working her everyday tiring job as a babysitter/daycare worker & uvo being the kind himbo he is offers her a night out at the bar with them ending up drunk. y/n expresses her interest in possibly wanting a kid & uvo doesnt seem to decline. periodt.

@sug4r-ru5h asked:

hii!! i just found ur account and i really like ur writing🥺🥺maybe we could get some Uvo with a really twitchy reader after getting absolutely pounded??? im unsure if you write aftercare but if you do that'd be litty titty B)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Dubcon, drinking, breeding, overstimulation, a little blood, slight manipulation

“It’s not that I don’t want kids...I’m single, and younger.. ya know? I can’t think of trusting someone enough to have kids with them.” You pause, taking a sip of your drink before you whisper out a half hearted “if that makes sense.” Its not like you got to see your friend often, actually it was fairly uncommon to see him around. Whatever he did for a living, you still didn’t truly know, made him travel a lot. And you weren’t pressed on spending the majority of this evening debating about children. Uvo pushes the irritation simmering in his mind away. “You trust me, don’t you?” “That’s a dumb question Uvo” you finally peek up at his enormous figure, the scoff you had intended to let out, dying in your throat. Something Is brewing in his mind. He was never one to school his features, to hide the emotions he felt about truly anything. You're met with a glare, something akin to a smirk as well if it weren’t on Uvo’s menacing face. On him it looked more like a grimace “Then humor me.” His jaw is set tight as he lowers his head to speak directly into your ear “Do you trust me?” His lips brush against your neck, raising goosebumps in their wake and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. This wasn't at all what you were expecting. You can’t help but to close your eyes and lean into his touch, and you can’t help but to acknowledge how warm his lips are when they finally press against your own. You know in part it’s the alcohol lowering your inhibitions and making you less inclined to think of the repercussions of kissing your long time friend. You know under normal circumstances you’d never be so brazen as to make out like a teenager in a packed bar full of scoundrels. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you don’t care. You want this. His hands snake around your waist, a low chuckle rumbling his chest at the startled way you jump when he finally pulls you onto his lap. “You gunna answer me sweetheart?” Uvo whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and you instinctively try to wrap your arms up to loop around his neck, pouting when you realize he’s far too tall As if reading your mind, he pulls you up further along the expanse of his chest until your arms can finally settle around his neck, grinning at your content smile. “I do, Uvo, you know that.” There’s a pause, a beat in which he uses the silence in his favor to pull back and ask “Hm.. do I?” with a wry smirk on his face. Of course, You nod ‘yes’ and you're rewarded with his nose brushing against the hollow of your throat, taking a deep inhale there before asking “what do I know?” The edge of the bar is digging into your back as Uvo presses himself around you. The smell of pine and a hint of his sweat all-encompassing until it feels like you’re breathing him in. Breathily, you answer him “I trust you Uv-“ Before you can finish his mouth is on yours again, nudging against yours so excitedly that your head is forced backwards. ”Good girl” its grunted out in between kisses, and in no time his tongue is invading your mouth, clouding your senses in a way that could never compare to the alcohol in your veins. When you let out a whine at his praise, at his hands, his mouth, his scent surrounding you, the bartender finally decides he’s had enough “Hey! Hate to break it to you both, but people are paying for drinks not a show” Uvo only growls, eyes still closed he parts from you to growl out a “Fuck off” before moving to place open mouthed kisses along your jaw. “C-can we leave, Uvo? ” its whisper quiet, but he still understand the message loud and clear. “Sure, doll.” He smiles, easily lifting you up as he rises to leave.

--

How easily he could break you. Hurt you in ways that are unthinkable, but the concept of that alone shakes him to his very core. He’s wanted this for so long, has had to deal with a deep ache in his chest at even the mere thought of you being so far away from him when he’d gone on missions with the troupe. When he rips your bottoms off, all you manage to do is whine and shyly try to cover yourself underneath him. With a gruff “stop” he pushes your hands to the side to finally see what he’s wanted for so long. You beneath him, desperate for him and him alone. His smile is almost manic as his hands roam your body. Uvos never had to have patience, has always taken what he wanted regardless of anything else. But your lust filled gaze, your body so warm underneath his wide palms is enough proof that this was worth waiting for. And god, does he want to take his time with you. Wants to taste and savor every little moan you give to him, but he’s a man on a mission. So, he hopes that he’s worked you up enough at the bar and the way back to make this go smoothly. with little effort he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing harshly at your hips before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. Soft and tight, he fucks into you like it’s his duty. Hips coming to slam against your ass with so much vigor, if it weren’t for his hands gripping your soft flesh he would’ve pounded you into the mattress a long time ago.

He lets out a low growl as he pictures you swollen, your hands rubbing over your pregnant stomach, it isn’t a want at this point. It’s a desperate need that punches the air out of his lungs with every mental image. Uvo lets out a groan as he takes time to truly think about it, to savor the idea of claiming you, even if it isn’t something you truly wanted. Even if it was never your intention to be with him, this rough coupling only sourced from your lowered inhibitions due to the alcohol. He pictures you being filled by someone other than him. Someone claiming you for the rest of your life when it was obvious that you belonged to him. The thought alone so maddening that he almost doesn’t hear the high-pitched yip that you let out. His grip on you had become a little too strong, a little too painful. Cooing, Uvo wraps an arm around your middle, slowing his pace down a bit as his other hand comes to pull you to his chest by your throat. Your body knocks against him a little harder than he intended, but the mewl that you reward him with at the change in position is enough to clear his mind from any troubled thoughts. It’s delicious, the sweat that beads down the column of your throat, so enticing that Uvo has half a mind to bite down. His only distraction being the little soft sighs and whimpers and chants of his name falling from your lips as he rubs against that spot inside of you. Its unintentional, the onslaught of stimulation he so dutifully sends you with every sharp press of his body to yours. His cock so big that he has no choice but to rub against every part of you. To fill you so completely that you can only think of him. “You trust me?” he asks again, teeth nipping the soft skin of your neck. He was trying to hold back, truly he was, but the prospect of marking up what was rightfully his was becoming a little too enticing. You release a series of whines, too fucked out to even begin to form a proper sentence. Uvo laughs at that. Something carefree and gentle, unlike the way he’s still holding you to his chest by the tight grip on your throat. “C’mon little one,” he urges, free hand coming down to settle on your clit. “Tell me you trust me so I can give you what you want, hm?” And with the words numbly falling from your spit slick lips Uvo gives in to the urge to breed your sopping pussy completely. To fuck and fill and keep until the day he fucking dies. With a euphoric laugh his hips once again move against you, your cries falling on deaf ears at the brutal new pace he’s set for you. Its dizzying, maddening, so fucking disorienting you don’t comprehend the sound of your own voice as the orgasm that rips from your body catches in your throat. You thrash against his iron hold, eyes rolled into the back of your skull as Uvo’s pace doesn’t falter. “You cryin for me sweetheart?” he asks incredulously. Surely you couldn’t be overwhelmed after cumming just once, right? In all honesty, he doesn’t know, but he hushes you with a kiss to the forehead, grunting out an “It’s alright” before slowly maneuvering your body down to the bed again, strong hands ensnaring your waist and holding your pliant body against his hips. Too tired to even pretend to hold yourself up any longer, he takes joy in the knowledge that this fuck will be the one that binds you to him forever. It should be downright infuriating how quickly he cums just after you. His hips stutter of their own accord, hulking body dropping to cover yours completely, he finally gives in to the urge to sink his teeth down. Your body jolts, a cry falling from your lips as Uvo mars the flesh of your shoulder, drawing blood that mixes with his spit to form a pink hue that drips down onto the bedsheets. Its enough to make his entire body tense in pleasure, wave after wave of pure bliss rocking through him as he releases inside of you. If he wasn't so drunk off of the feeling, he’d probably chuckle at the way your little body squirms beneath him, as if trying to simultaneously get away from the feeling and scoot your weakened form closer. But he can't. all he can do is focus on not crushing you as he ever so gently rolls onto his side, making sure to keep himself pressed snugly inside of you. His hand idly travels down your side, lost in the feeling of your soft skin underneath his coarse palm. The contrast is enough to make you shiver, whining his name as he gently fondles the plump flesh of your ass. Its enough to remind you of his cock still buried deep within you, its girth the only thing holding back the fluids that surely aren’t supposed to be inside. You try to scoot away, a slurred “Gotta clean up” ungracefully leaving your mouth, but Uvo doesn’t allow it. His arm is still wrapped snugly around your middle, and there’s no give as you try to wriggle out of his hold. he offers no reasoning, just a gruff “lay back down.” And you do. You do because the heat of his body curled around you is too enticing. The feeling of his lips pressed softly against the top of your head, and the even breaths that escape his throat are, ultimately, too comforting to leave. With a sigh you listen, relaxing into Uvo’s warm chest even further.

[dazaimency]

Shigaraki x F!Reader - Joy of Loving You - NSFW

Request for:  liluchihavert (ao3)

Prompt: Could I put in a request for Shigaraki x F!Reader, with the reader being black and having a chubby, curvy body type? I really love the idea of a touch starved, virgin Tomura either having his body worshipped by the reader or worshipping the readers and it just being very intimate but clumsy since it is his first time.

Word count: 1.821

Tags: NSFW, touch starved virgin Tomura, f black chubby and curvy reader, vanilla, praise kink

Part of our AO3 collection HERE

You had been in a relationship with Tomura for a while now, and the fact had not yet stopped fascinating you. You loved everything about him, and treasured every moment you got to have together. Everytime he looked at you, you found yourself smiling back at him, unable to stop your lips from curving upwards.

He used to be hesitant when it came to physical contact, but as your relationship progressed, the amount of cuddles and casual lingering touches increased. Sometimes, Tomura could not get enough of you, insisting on intertwining your hands or pinkies, rubbing your back or simply being next to you, shoulders and hips touching.

Laying down, as you were now, was your most common position in late nights like this one. Spread out on his bed, legs resting on each other, your head on his shoulders. Both of you were gripping controllers tightly, refusing to lose the game that kept flashing the room with bright colours, being the only resource of light.

Tomura tripped on a blue shell, and an annoyed groan started to form in his throat. Giggling at his reaction, you turn to place a peck on his neck, only distracting him more, while not taking eyes off of screen yourself.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna let me win,” you chuckle and eye your character, currently one p lace ahead of Shigaraki’s.

“Won’t be that easy, babe,” he smirks and dashes past you, straight to the finish line. Fucker kept his boost for the last second. Celebrating his victory, Tomura kisses you, turning his body to yours to trace down your curves with his fingers, enjoying the smoothness of your skin mahogany under his touch.

Smiling into the kiss, you shift closer, running a hand through his hair, the other staying on his chest, rubbing circles on his shirt. These moments were getting more frequent, but you still had to cross the final line.

The kiss breaks when Tomura pulls away, pausing to breathe. You caress his lips, still not as smooth as they could be, but far less chapped than when you met him. He leans in again, forcing a surprised gasp out of you. Taking the opportunity, his tongue enters your mouth and you hum into the kiss.

His fingers slither under your clothes, their tips brushing the lines of your bra, one finger carefully lifted so as not to hurt you. You both lean into the touch, Tomura presses his whole body against your, rolling you over to your back.

His other hand finds its way to your hair, entangled into your locks. Not hesitating, you envelop your arms around his torso, keeping him as close as you can. He smiles at the eagerness, heart skipping a beat when he detaches to look at you underneath him.

Looking into your eyes, his breath stops when his digits slip under your bra, feeling the soft skin of your breast under his palm.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighs, stroking your hair.

Your breath hitches as you gaze into his crimson eyes. He hesitated because he was unsure whether or not you wanted to take this further. If he could read your thoughts, he would realise how wrong he was. You were alright with taking things slow, knowing he needed the time, both because of how inexperienced he was, and how awkward he could get with casual touches when you two started dating.

With a blush, you decide to push the barrier you both had built up before, and take your shirt off. Tomura’s cheeks match yours as he takes in the sight of you, licking his lips while his hands move to hold your hips, rubbing circles on the revealed skin.

“So pretty,” he repeats, almost out of words and air.

“So are you,” smirking, you tug at his shirt, eyebrows raised. Tomura looked like he wanted to say something but quickly disregarded his thought and got rid of his shirt. You run your palm across his chest, goosebumps rippling from your touch on his skin.

Smiling, you bask in the moment, little sparks of joys going off in your chest. You were ready for this and your heart started to beat faster in excitement. Bringing Tomura closer, your fingers digging into his pale hair.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” you ask to be sure, giving him a way out if he needs it, “We can always stop.”

“Yeah, I am. You?” Tomura replies, no hint of hesitation in his red eyes. You smile at him and pull him into a kiss.

“Is this a good enough answer?” you sense his lips curve upwards, his hands running across your chest and hips, revelling in the way you felt under his touch. Shigaraki had a hard time staying away from you, always needing a way to hold you and he was glad he was able to get over his barrier and experience his first time with you.

Your hand trails down his back, reaching his trousers, gently tugging at his belt loops. Shigaraki sits up and hastily gets rid of his clothes. You chuckle at his non-existing patience and start to slip out of your pants, not missing the way his eyes travelled up and down your body, taking in every beautiful curve.

Not being able to hold himself back, he pushes you back to your previous position, him leaning over you.

“So damn pretty, can’t believe that I have you,” Tomura trails pecks over your neck down to your panties, making you blush more at his words. You shared a few casual touches here and there, but he had never gone down on you before.

You watch him expectantly as he decays your last piece of clothing, shooting him a fake glare for destroying it, but a chuckle escapes you, underlining the stare.

Shigaraki leans down, pushing your legs apart. A wave of nervosity rushes over you and your thighs clench slightly. An action, which does not go unnoticed by your boyfriend. He starts caressing your skin, covering it with kisses until you relax. Tomura smiles, locking his eyes with yours.

“I’m so lucky to have you… to taste you, to kiss you… down here,” he says as he goes down to spread your folds, teasing at your entrance. His tongue brushes over your clit, forcing a gasp out of you and one of your hands shoots into Tomura’s hair, the other clenching sheets.

“I should be saying that,” you breathe out, biting your lips as his tongue enters you, shamelessly stroking your walls as his fingers caress your clit.

“Can’t believe I waited this long,” Tomura smirks and dives back in, eager to taste you again, however clumsy his tries may be. His hands were glued to your skin, playing with your clit and holding your thighs in place. Feeling confident at your moans, Shigaraki puts a finger in, air escaping his lungs as he experiences the tightness of your walls for the first time.

His digit slowly pushes further in, rubbing against your inner walls, getting to know the way you clench around him. Praises escape your lips and you can feel your orgams slowly building up. Not wanting to let it bloom, you tug at Tomura’s hair to move him up, face to face.

“Did I do something wrong?” panic stains his voice, eyes uncharacteristically wide as he almost jumps out of bed, afraid that he hurt you.

“No, I just wanted this to last longer,” ensuring him everything was alright, the stiffness from Tomura's shoulders evaporates with each word. He leans over to kiss you and you taste a bit of yourself on his tongue.

Realising he hadn't touched himself in any way, you reach out under his underwear and stroke him gently. You move up and down his length, teasing the tip every now and then. He groans into your lips, hips bucking into your touch. With a smirk, you take his lower lips in between your teeth, biting down lightly.

“F-Fuck, baby.”

The grin disappears when you feel him enter you again, this time with two fingers, slowly stretching you out. You lean into his touch, wanting more. Your lips move to his neck, placing pecks and soft bites on his pale skin. Smooth waves of pleasure roll over him with each bite, revealing his neck to allow you better access.

“Feels good… Fuck,” eyes closed, Tomura breathlessly manages to get the words out. Gathering his left concentration, he focuses on his fingers preparing you, each new brush of your teeth making them twitch as the sensation from your bites and strokes travels down his body.

“I'm ready,” you breathe out. Tomura's eyes land on yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. Not finding any, his lips meet yours, and his fingers slip out. One of his arms lands next to your head, fingers burying in your hair while his other one guides him to your entrance.

You feel the head pushing in and Tomura kisses you as he slowly settles in. You’re tight around him, fully enveloping around his length. The heat is almost too much for him and he has to stop for a moment, revelling in the fact that he is inside you.

Shigaraki kisses you deeply with a moan, swallowing yours in the process. He feels big, the stretch is just enough and soon, you are ready for him to move. Urging him to do so, your hips push into his.

He bites your lip, trying to silence the groan crawling its way from his throat. “So damn tight.” Tomura starts to move, hips slowly slamming into yours. He falls into a rhythm, his cock nearing your sensitive spot with every thrust. He looks into your eyes, stained with lust and already starting to roll into the back of your head.

You feel hands travelling down your sides, caressing your curves before gripping your hips as Tomura’s thrusts get faster. Words of praises escape his lips, each new syllable spreading more goosebumps over your mahogany skin, making your walls clench around him.

“S-Shit, I’m gonna come soon,” Shigaraki stutters, raising your hips so he can push deeper. His cock brushes over your spot, forcing a moan out of you.

“Me… me too,” you say, encouraging him to go faster.

His chest shakes with irregular breaths, hips thrusting harder, chasing after release. Guided by your moans, he keeps the pace, hitting your most sensitive place with each push.

Your stomach clenches and you feel yourself tightening around him as pleasure washes over you, sparks of electricity going off across your whole body. Tomura’s orgams follows soon and he spills inside you with a loud moan.

Careful not to collapse on you, Tomura lays down next to you, embracing you and kissing you with a dumb grin on his face. Opening his eyes, face covered in sweat, he sees you with a similar expression.

“Should have done this ages ago.

[pradaksj]

Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored (m.)

♤ pairing: jungkook/reader

♤ genre: 1920′s au, burlesque/clubsinger!reader, infidelity au , angst, smut.

♤ rating: mature

♤ word count: 17,000+

♤ warnings: infidelity/affair [plays a big role in story so please do not read if the topic makes you feel uncomfortable, hint: y/n is not the one getting cheated on LOL], A LOT of angst lol the smut is just an add on to the story basically, explicit language, cigar smoking, degradation, pet names, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (2), dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, sub!reader, teasing dom!jungkook, slight dry humping, mirror sex, fingering, hair pulling, cockwarming, marking, edging, nipple/breast worship, pussy eating, spanking, light choking, possession kink.

♤ summary: Once you were on that stage you were someone completely different, the manifestation of someone’s secret desire, becoming whatever image had of you in their head. Some days you were the innocent girl next door, other days the good girl gone wild, but the days he came you became what you had been for the past year, the other woman.

━ ❝  You got me some type of way, ain’t used to feelin’ this way. I do not know what to say, but I know I shouldn’t think about it. Took one fuckin’ look at your face, now I wanna know how you taste… You can say I’m hatin’ if you want to, but I only hate on her 'cause I want you. .❞

♤ thank u next series masterlist

♤ author’s note: i got the idea to make this story 20’s themed after rewatching 2 Chainz ft Ariana Grande’s which you can watch ☞ here, while the storyline itself is loosely inspired by her song break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored. You can also reference this video ☞ here to see what I reference in terms of style when I say burlesque dancer and what y/n and her coworkers encapsulate because I personally hate the flapper era style LOL, i’m more of a hollywood glam person, so finding this video was a godsend.  

Also fun fact, the Hollywood sign was originally built reading “Hollywoodland” in 1923, which is why it’s referred to as that in this story, it wasn’t until 1949 that “land” was removed. and because i’m setting this story in the mid to late 1920’s, Hollywood is barely establishing its reputation as the land of dreams and heartbreak & alcohol was illegal in the 20’s which is why i refer to Joon’s job as “illegal” lol .

comment, send an anon, like, reblog, and most importantly enjoy! 🤍 

“She’s the girl of your dreams, the sugar to your spice, give a warm welcome to Miss Lola de Ville,” Al’s voice booms across the club. Peeping your head out the curtains, you try your best not to be seen as you scan the audience, until finally you spot what you’re looking for. Immediately you feel your heart skip a beat.

Quickly giddying your way back to Mina’s dressing room, you could feel the anticipation and joy bubbling in your stomach, “He’s here tonight,” you sing, leaning against her door frame, watching her as she did her makeup.

She’s quick to roll her eyes, “Oh when isn’t he,” she says, fixing her lipstick, “he sure does awfully love your performances it seems,” a blush appears on your cheeks, “Is she with him tonight?” she queries, you quietly nod your head no. “And what song are you performing tonight little miss Y/N?” she asks, changing the topic once she sees your face of uncomfort.  

Immediately your eyes light up, “Al’s been playing these songs by some man named Louis Armstrong on the record player all week, and oh how I love his voice, and the lyrics he sings!” you gush.

“Oh tell me about it, he’s going to have to buy himself another vinyl if he keeps playing it the amount of times he does already, it’ll be all scratched up by the end of the week,” she pessimistically says, causing you to shrug. It wasn’t like Al didn’t have the money to buy as many as he’d like, this club of his was bringing him bank.  

“God am I ready to go home,” she complains, taking off the shiny silver ring on her left ring finger and placing it in its case, as men didn’t like giving tips to a woman with a ring on stage.

“How’s the wedding planning going along?” you ask, Mina lets out a dramatic sigh in response.

“Oh you know Joon, he doesn’t like the whole planning aspect of it, so most of it has been in my hands,” she chuckles, “but I know he’s excited, he’s just as much of a romantic as me.”

Namjoon, Mina’s long time fiancé, was not only the illegal bartender of the club you two worked in, but a long time friend of yours, the two of you going back long before he had ever met Mina. In fact it was he who got you this job to begin with, something you’d forever be in his debt for.

Namjoon of course didn’t mind that Mina had to take off her ring because he not only trusted, but respected Mina’s job. Honestly it would’ve been hypocritical for him to be anything but supportive, considering he met her here when he first started working at the club a couple of years ago. At the end of the day he was secure about his relationship, and the person she was coming home to after a night of performing was him and only him.

“Y/N what are you doing here, you go on in five!” a voice interrupts, you turn to see Al with his hands on his hips in a dramatized fashion.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be out there right now,” you gulp, grabbing some perfume from Mina’s desk and quickly spritzing it on yourself., “How do I look?” you ask.

“You look good as always,” Mina reassures, despite only glancing at you for no less than a second, “hey and once you’re done tell Joon to have a cocktail ready for me by the time I’m done performing,” you nod, making your way out to the main stage.

“She’s got a voice sent from the heavens above, almost as smooth as a Friday’s glass of whiskey, she can sing, she can dance, she can act, she’s a triple threat of course! And to add to it all, she’s got the face of a doll, give a warm welcome for little miss y/n!”

Slowly, the curtains are pulled open, as you signal to the jazz band to start, another day, another dollar to make. You hear the cheers of men as you slowly take off your fur-made shoulder wrap, teasing the audience in what was hidden underneath. With every holler your ego only grows, knowing that all eyes were on you, including his.

Glancing in his direction, you find him staring at you in the same concentrated, sultry gaze he always did, purposely pouting your lips as you sang. You knew the power you held, the effect you had on those around you. Once you were on that stage you were someone completely different, the manifestation of someone’s secret desire, becoming whatever image they wanted you to be in their head, a figment of their imagination come to life so to speak.

Some days you were the innocent girl next door, other days the good girl gone wild, but the days he came you became what you had been for the past year, the other woman.

Unstrapping the leather of your heel, your feet immediately feel relief, as you kick off the black t-strap heels you had been wearing all night under your vanity desk. Though you loved wearing heels, the constant foot blisters caused by the cheap leather were definitely a downside.

Making yourself comfortable in your seat, you dump out the money from your tip jar, a smile appearing on your lips as you noticed the twenty dollar bill in the pile. Eagerly you grab it, excitedly crisping the sturdy green bill.

“They must've really liked that performance today,” a voice whispers to your ear from behind, catching you by surprise. You were used to him making a knock of some sort. Immediately you feel the tingle of goosebumps now prickling onto your skin, the giddy feeling in your stomach never getting old.

Slowly, he begins to give small pecks on your neck, every kiss lingering longer than the last. His lips then begin to softly suckle on your neck, causing you to push your head back in pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you complain, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Too bad that tip wasn’t from me,” he shades, clear annoyance coming from his tone. In your distracted state, he snatches the bill from your hands, causing you to immediately get up from your seat in an effort to get it back.

“Hey,” you childishly groan, trying to reach his arm which was now lifted in the air. Seeing that there was no use in trying, you give up. He then relaxes his arm, and begins to inspect the bill, your eyebrow raising at his action.

“What are you—”

He scoffs, rolls his eyes, and suddenly rips the bill into shreds. Eyes widening in shock, you  place a hand over your mouth. But as quick as the shock came, it was replaced by anger even quicker, “What the hell is wrong with you!” you shout, eyebrows now furrowed.

“It was a counterfeit, a fake,” he reiterates, leaving you slightly taken aback, but you try your best not to give a reaction.

“And,” you stutter, “And how are you so sure about that, huh?” you cross your arms, still upset at how sudden his actions were.

“Because this,” he pulls out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket, “is a real one,” he attempts to hand the bill to you, but is met with resistance on your side.

Pushing his hand away, you scowl, “I don’t want your money, I’ve told you that already,” you huff, feeling a slight tug at your heartstrings, your ego now bruised at both the fact that the bill was fake and that Jungkook felt compelled to replace it for you.

He hugs you from behind, rocking both you and him back and forth, “I know, I know,” he chuckles, “but seeing the way those men kept looking at you,” he pauses, now scowling, “I guess you can say I don’t like what’s mine being spoiled by others,” he ponders causing you to roll your eyes, still in his embrace nonetheless.

“It’s my job,” you jest, “not like I’m sleeping with them,” you shade, a sly smirk now on your face, as you feel his hardened member now rubbing against your ass, a clear sign that you weren’t the only feeling aroused.

“Feisty, huh?” he laughs, his right hand from behind slowly making its way around your neck, softly gripping your smooth skin. Soon enough, he begins to kiss you, your lips parting to let his tongue slowly go down further, the grip on your neck becoming tighter as the kiss deepens.

With his other free hand, he maneuvers under your robe, teasingly grazing over your thigh, almost as if waiting for the green light, “Just say the words,” he whispers into your ear, his fingers now tugging at the hem of your robe.

Without saying anything, you begin to untie it, the silk material dropping to the floor in a matter of seconds, now only in your bra and underwear, you whisper in return, “Fuck me,” and with that he’s quick to release the grip on your neck, turning you to face him. His kisses become sloppy as he signals for you to jump.

Now holding you up by the thighs, you link your arms around his neck as he places you on top of the vanity desk, careful to not push any of your perfume bottles, “I bet those men could only dream of having you like this,” he growls in between kisses, “Take off the bra,” he demands, his fingers now playing with the lace of your underwear.

With no second thought, you unclip the back of your bra, throwing it somewhere across your dressing room, desperate to have him inside you already. With one hand rubbing circles over the lace, the other rolls your hardened nipples in between his fingers, a smirk now plastered onto his face as he hears you trying to suppress your moans.

“Please Jungkook,” you whine, your thighs tightly wrapped against his waist, grinding yourself against his pants. Ignoring you, he sucks on the underside of your jaw, then to your neck, slowly making his way downward, until finally he’s softly sucking on your nipple.

“God that feels so good,” you pant, throwing your head back in complete utter bliss as he marks you, your hand gently tugging at his hair as he elicits the sweetest moans out of your mouth.

“All mine,” he groans, “I’m gonna fuck you so good, gonna have creaming all over my fucking cock,” continuing to suck on your nipples, his finger now slips under your underwear, placing them inbetween your folds, “Already this wet, kitten?” he mocks, “Those men out there have no idea how much of a whore you are,” his fingers begin to move up and down your clit, doing nothing but teasing you.

“Please Jungkook,” your voice shakes, the need to feel something, anything, inside you becoming much too overwhelming. Slowly he sinks his index finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out of you until gradually he slips in another, your wetness making it easy to do so. You arch your back against the vanity’s mirror in pleasure, “Mm, faster Jungkook,” you manage to breathe out, his two fingers soaked with your wetness.

“So tight,” he mutters his pace now quickening at your command, “Look at you, already wanting to cum,” he mocks, “How do you expect to take my cock huh?” he mumbles into your neck, ready to add a third finger, “Answer me,” he demands, bringing his other hand to your neck once again.

“Because,” you’re unable to reply, now feeling your release coming to light,  “I’m boutta—” you whimper, with every movement you feel it coming closer and closer until suddenly he slows his pace, very much denying you from your release only causing you to let out a cry in complaint, the pressure that had built up immediately slowing down, “Jungkook,” you whine.

“You didn’t answer me,” he teases, pulling your underwear off, now having you completely undressed. Getting on his knees, he parts your legs wide open, your pussy being nothing but a glorious sight to him. Gently he swipes his finger across your sensitive folds, knowing that your senses were heightened from the denial, “Such a pretty pussy,” he teases, now rubbing circles onto your clit, “I bet you taste so good,” he pulls his finger away, suckling on the wetness that coated his finger, “so it does,” he says.

“Use your tongue,” you needily whisper, not sure at how long you’d be able to handle all the teasing, “please,” you cry, hoping that he’d do something soon. He drops wet, messy, kisses along your thighs, your skin now prickling in anticipation. He was purposely taking his time, finding pleasure at your squirming. A part of you just wants to push his head for your selfish reasons, but you knew that it’d get you nowhere because at the end of the day he was in full control, and you would just have to deal with the pleasurable torture.

With every kiss, suckle, and lick, you could practically feel yourself trembling, “Please Jungkook,” you beg, but he only hums in response, continuing with his wicked game of torture. Unable to control yourself, you let go of his hair, now maneuvering your hand to your pussy in a desperate effort to soothe the ache that had long been built up.

But just as you’re about to begin to pleasure yourself, his own reflexes are quick to grab you by the hand, roughly pushing it down onto the desk in an effort to stop you, “Mm mm mm,” he coos, “A slut like you doesn’t get to be in control, remember that kitten,” he sings, making a nodding motion with his finger.

Soon enough, you feel his warm tongue on your clit, licking and sucking through your folds, his index finger rubbing at your clit all at the same time. “Oh my God, right there,” you moan, the tension you felt immediately being released as he indulged himself further into your folds, pumping his finger back into your pussy once more, this time rubbing at your g-spot, your folds completely soaked with both your fluids and his saliva. Your orgasm once again was building up and as a result your pussy clenched around his fingers, your muscles going limp as you knew it was coming closer.

“You’re gonna cum for me, kitten?” you vigorously nod your head in response, physically squirming at his words, “Cum for me,” he breathes out, the euphoric feeling overcoming you, as you felt the waves of your orgasm hit, leg trembling at the sensation. Immediately he begins to plant soft kisses among your thighs, softly caressing you as you came down from your high.

He gets up from his knees, beginning to gently place kisses onto your cheek, “What a good girl,” he teases, going in to kiss you. You place your hand at the back of his head as you deepen the kiss, transforming the kiss to nothing but tongue and saliva. The two of you now making out on the vanity once again, his hardened cock rubbing against your bare pussy, the fabric of his pants acting as the only barrier in between.

He groans once you playfully you graze your other hand over the fabric, the idea of having his cock filling you up only exciting you, “I need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, arousal dripping from every word as you played with the waistband of his pants.

“Is that what you want, kitten?” he asks, now unbuttoning his pants, and pulling out his thick, large cock, “Such a little whore, singing and dancing for those men,” he seethes, the look of jealousy presently on his face, “if only they could hear the way you squirm for me,” he chuckles, “just how needy and desperate you become for my cock,” you gasp as you feel his head now teasing the slit of your entrance, “How I have you moaning my name,” he whispers, suckling at the nip of your neck.  

“Put it in already,” you whine, ready to have his cock thrusting in and out of you, and so with that he slowly pushes his head which was covered in pre-cum into your hole, your wetness from earlier making it easy for him to slip it in, while your hot walls take him in with ease just as the many nights before, but still the pressure of the stretch was something you’d never get used to.

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, impusivley pulling your hair from the back as his girth pushed it’s way inside of you, taking a moment to allow the two of you to adjust, his cock now buried deep within you, “Tell me when you’re ready Y/N,” he sincerely says, having seen the momentary look of discomfort on your face.

Nodding once you were ready, he begins to slowly thrust, the items you had on the vanity beginning to jump at the sudden movement of the desk. Your moans and the squelching sound from the movement of his cock and your wetness now fill the room, his pace quickening with every deep thrust.

“Oh fuck—” you cry, his own grunts and moans mixing with yours.

“This is my pussy, you got that?” all you can do is nod in response, his thrust getting harder and sloppier, until suddenly he stops, “Turn around and bend over the desk,” he commands, pulling out and pumping his girth with his hand, not wanting to lose momentum.

It was shocking really, the countless number of times you two have fucked in between show sets, prior, and after, and each and every time it felt as good and exciting as the first time.

Eagerly you turn around, laying your stomach flat on top of the vanity’s surface, your dripping soaked pussy in full view for him, the cold air of the room along with the lack of fullfiness in your cunt causing you to let out a small whine, desperate to have Jungkook’s cock warm you up again, “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs to himself, looking at your face from the reflection in the mirror as he began to stuff your pussy with his cock once again.

He begins to thrust again, each one feeling fuller than the last, “Fuck Jungkook,” you cry, his cock now hitting your g-spot in this position, “Faster baby,” the friction from his steady rythym now wasn’t enough, as you felt another orgasm incoming.

“Faster?” he asks, “You said it,” he laughs, now pounding against your walls at a pace that was so overwhelming, you were almost sure that anyone within ten yards could probably hear you. “You nasty little slut, just look at yourself,” he groans, yanking you by the hair and forcing you to look at the reflection of yourself in the mirror in front of you, “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this,” he quickens his his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, “And only me, you got that?” all you could do was moan in response, resulting in a hard spank to your ass, “Answer me!” he groans, as you grip onto the corners of your vanity’s desk, his cock pounding harder and harder within your walls every passing second.  

“Mmhm only you Jungkook!” you cry, placing your hand on the mirror, trying not to lose balance of yourself, “I’m so close,” you manage to breathe out, the tight feeling in your abdomen signaling that you were going to cum any moment, his breathy moans also telling you that he was close to bottoming out as well.

He tilts down, the sounds of his panting now directly behind your ear, “That’s my girl,” he whispers, pushing your hair away from your neck to give you a small kiss. Seconds later, your vision goes white as you feel the final rush of stimulation washing over you, as he quickly pulls out and pumps his own release onto your back. The two of you now catching your breath, completely exhausted.

He buttons his pants back up, grabbing your things from the floor as well as a towel from your rack, gently cleaning you up as you remain in your position, too tired to even stand. “Come on,” he whispers, gently pulling you from behind so that he could pick you up, your body always feeling completely limp post-orgasm, add the fact that this was post-work as well, you had every reason to be tired.

Placing you on the small love-seat couch you had in your dressing room, which was generally used for—nevermind that, he helps dress you, guiding your legs through the underwear holes, laughing at your groans whenever you’d miss. “Come on, stop being lazy,” he teases, only resulting in another groan from you. You cross your arms again and pout like a kid, a huge grin now on his face. Gently, he cups your face, playfully squishing your cheeks in the process, just like he always does, only causing you to roll your eyes.

“Why do you always do that?” you manage to say, his hands still squeezing the life out of your cheeks.

“Because it’s cute,” he gives you a peck on the lips before finally letting them go, allowing you to place your robe back on, “You’re cute,” he nuzzles into your neck, the two of you to falling back on the couch, as he then begins to tickle you.

“Stop,” you begin to hysterically laugh, his fingers prancing around the sides of your stomach, “Jun—Jungkook stop,” you breathe out, a toothy grin on his face as he attempted to avoid your playful kicks.

To any other person, this loving moment between you two would cause nothing of the suspicion, hell, they’d probably even mistake the golden band on his finger as the sacrament of your holy matrimony. It was moments like these where you questioned where your relationship with the married man stood, where you’d ask yourself at what point had the line blurred between only doing this for fun and actually having feelings?

Slowly Jungkook stops tickling you once he notices that your laughs had begun to die down, and your face had become serious,“Hey what’s wrong?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.

You shake your head, not wanting to dwell on your thoughts too much, “It’s nothing really,” you give him a small smile.  Momentarily he stares at you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“Let’s go home?” you stare at him wide-eyed, home?

“Wait what?”

“I asked if you’d like me to take you home?” he chuckles, though you knew you must’ve heard him wrong, the sinking feeling in your heart hurt just as much, a part of you secretly hoping that you were wrong.

“Oh um,” you respond, “no it’s fine Jungkook, I’ll just um,” you run a hand through your hair, “I’ll just ask Joon, I think he should still be cleaning up, and Mina is probably bored waiting,” you force a laugh. He furrows his eyebrows, unsure about leaving you here, but relents nonetheless.

“Hm, okay then,” he says, giving you a departing kiss on the cheek, “I’ll see you soon, alright?” you nod your head, the forced smile on your face quickly dropping the moment he walks out the door.  

“You sure are loud, Namjoon was complaining about wanting ear muffs while he cleans,” Mina laughs, now entering your dressing room, Jungkook having left several minutes ago. She expects you to laugh like you usually do, or even throw a smart remark in return, but instead you remain silent, staring at your reflection in the vanity’s mirror. Your eyes were puffy from crying, because in those minutes that Jungkook had left, a feeling of shame had washed over you. “Hey, what’s wrong kiddo?” she walks towards you, quickly grabbing a tissue from the tissue box you had on your desk, beginning to wipe the run down mascara from your cheeks, softly running her other hand through your hair in an effort to comfort you.

Sniffling, you shake your head in refusal to talk, “Hey, come on, you know you can tell me anything,” she reassures, “It’s better to let things out, than to have it build up,” she frowns, the sight of seeing you cry breaking her heart.

“I,” you struggle to say what’s on your mind, “I love him,” you whisper, voice breaking as you finally said what you’d long known. For a second she stares at you, her faint gasp quickly hidden as she continues to comfort you.

“Oh Y/N,” she sighs, sad that she is unable to find the words that could make this all better. If only Namjoon was—

“What’s going on he—” Namjoon furrows his eyebrows as he sees the sight of his fianceé comforting his long time friend, who now had her face buried in her hands.

“I love him so much, and everytime he comes here I just wanna tell him,” you pause, “I wanna tell him everytime he walks out that door that he could be with me, that I want him to love me,” you cry, “that the only reason I keep seeing him is because I hope one day he just magically wakes up and walks through that door to tell me that he wants to be with me and only me, not her.”

You push your hair back in distress, “And you have to understand I never meant for things to go this far,” you quietly mumble, “and at first it was just a one time thing, nothing but a tiny sin, I thought I wouldn’t ever see him again, but now it’s become so much more,” you sigh, “And I know what I’m doing is wrong, but I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t feel anything.”

Namjoon walks over to you, crouching down so that you could face him, “Hey, we’re not here to judge you,” he firmly states, gently pulling your hands away from your face so that you could make eye contact with him, “you have every right to feel the way you do, you hear me?” slowly you nod your head in response as he lets out a chuckle, “Hell, we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t act selfishly here and there,” he pauses, “but what you do need to do is tell him because you’re right, you can’t keep doing this, or else you’ll be stuck in the same old place forever, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he flashes you his famous old dimpled smile, Mina rubbing small circles on your shoulder as an extra layer of comfort.

“I’m scared,” you whisper. It was true, you were, because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he told you that there was no way he’d ever leave her for you? That the feeling of love which had only been growing stronger for the past year would remain as nothing more than a fantasy.

“You’ll never know till you say something,” he gives you a small comforting smile, “Come on let’s get you home little miss Y/N,” he pats your lap, getting up from his crouched position, your Friday night coming to its end.

Jungkook opens the door to his home, genuinely tired from the long week, simply ready to go to bed. “So, where were you?” he hears a voice from behind say. Sighing, he turns around to face his wife of three years, who was currently dressed in her overseas designed silk-purple nightgown, one of the many she owned.

His eyes glance around the room, refusing to make eye contact, “I went out to get drinks with Jimin, you know... the usual for a Friday night,” he wonders how long she’s been waiting for him, honestly it had been a while since she pulled something like this.

“All the bars close at ten, it’s twelve,” she tries to firmly state, but instead her voice cracks, “I have Amelia calling me telling me that Jimin’s gotten hom—”

“Catherine,” he begins, his voice hoarse at how tired he was, “Can we just talk about this some other day? I’m just really tired and,” he shakes his head, combing his hand through his hair, hoping she’d understand.

Catherine momentarily stares at him in silence, an emotionless look on her face before turning and going back upstairs to their bedroom. Jungkook decides to serve himself a glass of whiskey before going to bed in hopes of getting rid of the heavy guilty feeling that weighed over him, and that maybe tonight it’d just be best to sleep on the couch.

“Blue or Red?” you dangle the two outfits from their hangers in front of Jungkook, who was relaxing on your dressing room’s couch, exhausted from the sex you two just had, “I’ve personally been told blue is more of my color, but I feel like red makes me pop out a whole bunch more, and well I need those tips,” you ramble, “So what do you think?”

It had been about two weeks since you last saw him, and since your little breakdown, and though you had taken Namjoon’s words into consideration, the courage to actually go through with it just wasn’t there. Instead you had decided that you needed to wait for the right moment to tell him, and though you weren’t exactly sure when that moment would be, you were definitely sure that when it did happen, maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out how you pictured it to be.

He stretches his arms, releasing a yawn, “Mm,” he hums, “how bout none and you call it a day,” he winks, resulting in a playful hit to the shoulder from you. You gasp as he pulls you to sit on his lap, “And what song are you singing tonight kitten?” he asks.

“Mm I don’t know yet,” you laugh, “might just come up with something last minute,” you joke, but secretly you always did want to venture into composing and writing your own music, weekly newspapers citing that across the country in Hollywoodland, people who could sing, dance, and act, could achieve overnight worldwide fame.

Hollywoodland was a dream, an unrealistic one of course, but a dream nonetheless. Who knows, maybe one day you could make it big out there, but for now you had to focus on where you were locally “famous” : Al’s Melody Noir.

“And become the next Hollywoodland star?” he teases, quickly squishing your cheek before you could knock his hand away.

You shrug, “Hey, you never know,” you smile, “someone in the crowd might just hand me a one way ticket,” you say causing him to roll his eyes and playfully tighten the grip he had on your waist.

“Why not audition for Broadway or something,” he pouts his lips, “they can always use a star like you,” he sings.

“Because I don’t want to be a Broadway star,” you say, “I want to be a Hollywood star,” you grin, “I mean no offense to those Broadway stars, they’re talented and all, but I’m telling you right now that in 50 years from now, the names that are going to be remembered will be the ones who are on that big screen,” Jungkook quietly hums in response, no longer wanting to entertain this topic.

Grabbing his wrist, you glance at his wrist watch, “Ooo, I’m about to go on,” you yelp, quickly getting up from his lap and making any final touch ups to your hair, he gets up as well now getting ready to head out. “Are you sure you can’t stay to see me perform tonight?” you plead, the doe eyed look on your face making it hard for him to say no, but he had to, it was the sole reason why he came to see you before your time slot.

“You know I can’t doll,” he gives you a small kiss on the lips, “I got a whole bunch of paperwork to catch up on tonight,” he sighs, he wasn’t lying either. The stock market was booming as of late, especially because of the newly profound industrial boom, being a stockbroker right now was not only a stressful job but one where any little mistake could cost absolutely everything, “Next time I’ll be there, I promise,” he plants another kiss to your forehead, “And don’t put on too much of a show for em!” he shouts as he walks out.

You look at yourself one last time in the mirror, “Let’s do this,” you whisper, ready to make that stage yours once again.

“Oh you should've seen us having to push that car down the road, whoever this Henry Ford man is needs to learn how to make his cars weight lighter,” Mina complains, you and Namjoon laughing as the three of you were now together at the bar, Namjoon still on the clock of course.

Despite it being a rainy day, tonight was a full house, the club full of upper New York socialites occasionally some of them with their wives and girlfriends. Gambling tables were surrounded by both business men and mafia members. It was clubs like Al’s where you’d see the two different worlds collide and openly interact with one another, but honestly most of these men went hand and hand with each other. Not like there really was that much of a difference between them.

Mina puffs out the smoke from her cigar, “Look, I even chipped my nail,” she flaunts her left hand, Namjoon laughs at her obvious attempt to show off her shiny engagement ring.

“Hey don’t go flaunting it around too much,” he playfully says, but both you and Mina knew that behind that joking tone, he was definitely being serious.

She leans over the front bar rail, dramatically puckering her lips, to which he of course places his lips on, “Hey, get a room!” you complain, “Al sees you two doing that on the clock and he’ll have you two written up!” you laugh.

“Hey I’m on my break,” she clarifies, “And so are you, and if I’m looking at the clock correctly you go on in forty, and you have yet to change.”

Getting up from the bar stool, you dramatically groan in annoyance, now pursing your lips, “Didn’t realize you wanted me gone so badly.”

“Ah you know I’m just joking Y/N,” she passes you her glass of whiskey, “A shot for good luck,” she winks, and so reluctantly you slug down the remainder of her drink, the burning sensation not at all feeling pleasant, as your nose immediately wrinkled at its taste.

“I don’t know how you two drink this stuff,” you say, a childish look of disgust on your face, “it’s banned for a reason you know.”

“You get used to it,” Namjoon comments, “Now get going! Because of all this small talk, you only got thirty minutes left, and we all know how long you take!” he scolds, making a motion with his hand for you to start walking.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you roll your eyes, now making your way back to your dressing room.

“Remember to show em what you’re made of Miss Hollywoodland,” Mina shouts, as you now shook your head in laughter as you left.

You walk towards your dressing room, still laughing to yourself at Mina’s little comment. Tonight was already a good night, your tips seeing a slight increase after your new performance which of course you’d have to count singularly later to get exact numbers. But for now all you wanted to simply do was change, get your last performance over with, catch a cab, and go to bed. The sound of the rain pouring outside would be nothing but relaxing once you got home, that was for sure.

“Mina, Mina, Mina,—” you mumble to yourself, grabbing the handle to your dressing room, ready to just kick off your heels. But what you see in front of you once you open the door immediately confuses you, as someone was occupying your vanity chair. It wasn’t until you looked at the reflection of the mirror that the heavy feeling weighing on your chest dropped down to your stomach. Because there she was sitting with her legs crossed, fixing her crimson colored lipstick in the mirror.

Standing there in silence, your eyes study her body language. In a way she seemed eerily relaxed, her shoulders weren’t tensed like yours, and her breathing seemed steady. The complete opposite of you.

The tension in the room was so thick, you were unsure of what to say because really what was there for you to say? You knew why she was here, she knew why she was here, so then why did everything feel so uneasy, like a bubbling bottle ready to pop off at any moment.

You want her to scream, to tell you off, to do something that you would expect from her, but instead she hums a tune, continuing to fix her lipstick, not once making eye contact with you, until finally she breaks her silence. A quiet, sly, chuckle coming from her lips.

“You know when I first met Jungkook I remember my heart feeling as if it was going to leap out of my chest,” she calmly shares, “Our respective families had introduced the two of us to one another at some horse racing event in New Orleans, my mother pulling me to the side to tell me that he was an up and coming stockbroker, not that it mattered anyway, I had already been swept off my feet from the moment I laid my eyes on him,” she scoffs at recalling the memory, “and you know I’d like to think that just for that one day he felt the same thing I had felt for him.”

She pauses, hazily looking at her reflection in the mirror, still not having glanced in your direction. “We got married a couple months later, bought our first home here in New York, and every morning I’d make him his cup of coffee and kiss him off for work. I remember thinking about just how perfect my life had come out to be. I was buying custom dresses from Europe, and having my pearls imported from the southern China sea, everything a girl could dream of,” she looks down at the ring placed on her left index finger, shining as bright as ever, “I remember bragging to my friends about my perfect life, and they would tell me that all I needed was the kids,” she laughs, “The other housewives would gossip to me about husbands cheating on their wives’ and I would think to myself how Jungkook would never do that to me, that he loves me too much do something like that.”

“But what I had failed to realize was that I was always viewing things from my perspective,” she shakes her head, almost as if disappointed with herself, “I guess it’s due to the way I was raised, I mean I was a spoiled child who grew up in a wealthy family, never once did I see things from the perspective of others,” she comments, “because maybe if I had I would’ve realized that my husband had quickly fallen out of love with me, or hell he may have never been in love with me to begin with,” the lurching feeling of guilt resurfaces itself from the pits of your stomach, the need to vomit almost excruciating, “but I didn’t,” she bitterly scoffs.

“And so when a friend of mine and her husband invited us to some underground new club in town that was getting all kinds of reviews from the drinks, to the dancers, and the triple threat of a star who could sing, dance, and act. I thought sure, why not? We had gone to many different clubs before where there’d be dancers who walked around with nothing but tiny little stickers across their nipples, and not once did I have to worry about his eyes straying too far,” she finally makes eye contact with you through the reflection of the mirror, “until he saw you that night.”

Getting up from your seat, her heels clack on the wooden floor as she makes her way towards you. Her calm demeanor reminding you of a snake ready to bite at any moment, “I don’t know how you two started off, or who initiated it first because God I honestly stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago,” she pauses, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to prevent herself from breaking down, “At first I thought you were going to be nothing but a phase, something temporary, something he was just doing out of compulsion, that it could’ve been anyone that he was going to commit adultery with.”

She stares at you, her eyes watery, a pool of emotions found in her eyes, “So then when I found myself having to go to that damn club every week, just to,” her voice finally cracks, the pristine glass cup that she was finally breaking, “Just to have to see him stare at you with those eyes every night to the point where he wouldn’t even tell me to come anymore, he’d be going out in the middle of the night just to see you in that damn club for God’s sake!” she cries, her face now red at her lash out.

You stare at her wide-eyed, frozen in place as she’s only inches away from you, an intense chill going down your spine.

“He’s,” she pauses, “He’s my husband,” her voice trembles in hysteria, “My husband,” she repeats, as if trying to reassure herself.

Finally, you manage to stutter something out, “I—I didn’t know at—”

“First?” she scoffs, “Is that the excuse you’re going to give me? What about the second time? Or the third? And the fourth and every other time afterward, huh? All those times you’d spot him in the crowd with me only being a couple of feet away from him, or did you just block me out of your mind so you could sleep at night? Is that it?” she yells. “You just couldn’t do it, huh? You just couldn’t stay away from him, like the dirty tramp you are,” she spat, looking at you with nothing but disgust, “Well say something goddammit! Instead of looking at me with that stupid look on your face!” her voice shakes.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” you whisper, lowering your head in shame, “You have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to believe anything from the likes of someone like you,” she snaps. The heavy feeling on your chest only weighs harder as you realized you needed to tell her the truth, the truth on what you really felt. Slowly you raise your gaze to meet hers, the lump in your throat fighting against the words that were about to come out of your mouth.

“I love hi—”

The sound of the crack of skin contacting skin echoes off the walls, a deafening silence immediately following afterward. As if time was frozen in its place. She slowly looks at her trembling hand which was now vibrating in a pain that etched from the center of her palm to the tip of her fingertips, it’s bright red appearance matching the new welt on your face. You stare at her wide eyed, hand now clutching cheek in pain, no possible words articulating in your head.  

The look on her face is one that’ll haunt you to your grave, it’s the look of someone you had first-hand in breaking. The tears that were currently gracefully falling from her eyes weren’t from a place of sorrow, but the buildup of anger and pain.

She should've felt some kind of remorse. But she didn't. Not one organ in her body could produce a gland of guilt for her actions because at the end of the day this was the least you deserved. She glances at the mark she’s left on your cheek, bitterly scoffing, not because it was big or anything but because it was in fact a cut. A small one where her wedding ring had caught you, a permanent scar that’ll remind you every morning when you look in the mirror of what you’d done. And she hoped, no, she wanted you to feel shame whenever you looked at it.

“You stay away from my husband,” she pleads demands, quickly grabbing her bag from your vanity, and rushing her way out, leaving you there to reflect on everything that just happened.

Jungkook sighs, flipping to the next document on his desk, a night full of work ahead of him. New clients needed to be accommodated, considering everyone wanted a piece of the pie that was the New York Stock Exchange.

Tonight it was raining, a downpour in fact, the prelude to an up and coming storm. The thunder already beginning to cry out from the sky above, the trees around his home writhing and flailing against his window.

Getting up from his desk, he closes up the window as well as shutting the blinds, turning on his shaded glass lamp which provided the dim lighting he always liked working in. The muffled sound of the rain comforting as well.

Catherine was out to God knows where, mumbling something about a girl’s night out before walking out, which of course he didn’t mind, but it was getting quite late. He shrugs off the concern, instead continuing with his work.

Ah she must be back already, he thinks to himself, hearing footsteps coming up the stairs. Suddenly he hears his office door open, “So you’re back already,” he says, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

He’s met with silence.

Looking up, he’s taken back by the woman standing in front of him. Because there she was, hair and clothes drenched in water along with mascara running down her eyes. A haunting empty look in her eyes.

Quickly he gets up, eyebrows furrowing in worry, “Why are you—Where—What happened?” he finally manages to ask, but she remains silent, staring off at the bookcase behind his desk.

“Catherine you’re soaking! I thought you went to Amelia’s?” he chides, but again she remains silent, until slowly she moves her pupils to his direction.

The two stare at each other for what seems like forever, words not having to be spoken in order to know what exactly was happening. He turns to break the gaze, the feeling of shame that he had been pushing off for so long bubbling in his stomach.

A low staggered laugh comes out of her mouth, steadily becoming louder and louder, booming across the room until tears are now falling from the corners of her eyes, as she goes into a fit of hysteria until finally she begins to sob. “I thought I could live with it,” she whispers in between, “I thought things were going to end at some point between the two of you—”

“Catherine,” he starts, but she’s quick to cut him off.

“But it never did!” she laughs, making a small motion to her head, “and it was there like an itch at the back of my mind all the time,” she lets out a breath in disbelief, “and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Catherine, it’s not what you think it is,” he sighs, causing her to only laugh.

“She loves you, you know that right?” she bitterly scoffs, recalling your words from earlier, “And God help me, because I think you might love her too,” she finally cries out, finally saying the thought she’d kept buried in her mind for so long out loud. The feeling of suffocation finally coming to an end.

“For a wife to have to witness the entirety of her husband falling for another woman,” her voice trembles, “to have to witness the exact moment that you fell in love with her,” she whispers, vigorously shaking her head in denial,“ I don’t even wish that upon my worst enemy,” she lets out a choked sob.

All he could do is stare at her, no words at the tip of his tongue, nothing he could say or do to comfort her. “So,” she grimaces, as if fighting to get the words out of her mouth, but she needed to ask. She needed to hear him say it.

“Do you love her?”

He remains silent. He can’t even bring himself to deny it, she thinks to herself. You could hear a pin drop fall at how silent the room was.

“I’m going to bed,” she whispers, the feeling of defeat draining her as she walks out of the room leaving Jungkook to stand there by himself, the thunderstorm outside finally coming to an end.

“Al doesn’t pay me enough for this,” you groan, scrubbing the wood floors with your bristled brush. Tonight it was your turn to close up the club, and though Namjoon usually offered to stay and help you, he had sadly caught a cold, and so instead tonight you were stuck with Al himself to clean up, which of course meant you’d be stuck doing everything. He was already out front doing God knows what, most likely smoking a cigar or something.

It had been weeks since your encounter with Catherine, as well as your last visit from Jungkook, which you could only assume had to do with said situation. Honestly the whole situation had been anxiety inducing, having gone directly home after the whole ordeal, not bothering to say goodbye to Namjoon or Mina as you left, still stuck in the state of shock that you were in.

Even the usual taxi driver who normally drove you home after work was worried at your silence throughout the whole trip. Usually you kept him updated on the different things going on in the club, especially since he was always interested in, in his words, “innovations you young people are making.”

“She was dame, in love with a guy,” you continue to scrub the floor, now humming the song from a movie you had watched a couple a days ago,  “She stuck with him but didn’t know why,”  

“Everyone blamed her, Still they all named her,” you hear a familiar voice playfully sing, “True Blue Louuuuu,” Jungkook stretches out the final word, now standing in front of you, a warm smile on his face. He was dressed in his usual suit attire, his parted hair with no hair out of place only symbolizing his calm attitude for things.

Quickly getting up, you pat down your skirt of any possible dirt, “How did you—” Before you could even finish asking, your mind immediately answers the question for you, “Al,” you let out a laugh, that man will truly let anyone into his club.

“It’s not like he doesn’t recognize me by now,” he chuckles, opening his arms for embrace, which hesitantly you accept. Jungkook, taken aback by your reluctance, cups your face like he usually does and attempts to give you a pop kiss, which you quickly maneuver your way out of thus confirming something was wrong. “Hey,” he whines, pouting his lower lip.

Gently you push him off, picking up the bucket of dirty water from the floor, silently ignoring his antics, “Y/N,” he grabs your hand as you turn away from him.

Knowing there was nothing in this situation you could do but face him, you sigh, “What?” you harshly say, your attitude causing the dirty bucket of water to slip from your hands, “Ugh,” you groan, a headache now rising, “Look what you made me do,” you hiss.

He lifts his hands in his defence, “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything kitten,” your heart skips a beat at the pet name, but you’re quick to shrug the feeling off, huffing as you went to go get the mop from behind the bar stand, Jungkook only following. “I know you’re mad,” he begins, only raising a bitter laugh out of you.

You inhale a breath of fresh air, trying to keep your composure, “Me? Mad? No!” you narrow your eyes at him.

Laughing at your sarcasm, he responds, “And I understand why—”

You cut him off, “How could you possibly understand? You’re not the one who got slapped across the face,” you frown, clenching your jaw, “I even got a left with a scar because of it,” you angrily point to the small cut under your right eye, where her ring had caught you, “and this is my good side!” you throw in.  

“You can’t even notice it—”

“That’s not the point!”  you glare at him, “The point it, is that I can’t keep doing this,” you exhale loudly, “It’s-it’s” you stutter, firmly pressing your lips together, “it’s wrong,” you finally admit to him. Catherine’s words echo in your head, the image of her sobbing in front of you still fresh in your mind, “and so I,” you hesitate to say the next words, but it was now or never, “I think you need to choose, me or her? Because we can’t keep doing this, and you can’t expect me to stay in this position.”  

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“For the rest of my life, because— wait what?” you bring your ramble to an immediate halt, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“We’re getting a divorce,” he firmly repeats, completely making eye contact you, not even a twitch of the brow to signal if he was lying or not, “it’s why I haven’t been coming for the past few weeks, been filing paperwork and all that other time consuming stuff,” the two of you stand there in silence, the words barely sinking in for you as you owlishly stare at the wall behind him, nothing but a blank expression on your face.  

This is what you wanted … you just hadn’t expected the answer to be dropped as a bombshell like this one. Was it wrong to feel … happy? Overjoyed? Excited? He’s choosing you, you tell yourself. He’s choosing you, you repeat to yourself. He’s choosing to try and have a future with you. “Earth to Y/N,” he waves his hand in front of you, bringing you back to reality.

You glance at the ring that’s haunted you since the day you met him, it’s emptiness being nothing but a marvelous sight, the corners of your lips slowly twitching upward. Jumping into his arms, you scatter his face with kisses, the sudden burst of energy you felt was a high you were sure you’d never feel again in your life.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles into your ear, both his arms grabbing you to keep you steady. A part of you wants to ask him what happened, the itch to know more details almost excruciating, but instead you choose to enjoy the moment, deciding you’d ask him some other day. With this news, you’d have an eternal amount with him.

Gently, he places you down from his hold, “And I have news that’ll have you near passing out,” you quirk your brows, there was more? “So I think you might need to hold on to the bar or something,” he grins, the feeling of anticipation now creeping under your skin.

“Well get on with it,” you rush him, doubting that the grin on your face could become even bigger.

“The firm I work under throws these annual um…” he looks up, trying to find the right word for the event, “balls,” he smugly grins, “and well a lot of Broadway producers attend, who certainly have connections with people in Hollywoodland, and well let’s just say I pulled some strings and,” he dramatically pauses, building suspension, “you’ll be performing a set for them in a week from now, as my date of course.”

Your mouth hangs loose at his words, “No,” you say in complete bewilderment, feeling as if your head was in the clouds, but your feet were on the ground all at the same time, “What am I going to where? Sing? Oh my—” you ramble, “Jungkook I,” you stop yourself from continuing, instead pulling him another hug, the warmth you felt being in his arms being truly indescribable. Things were looking up, and you were definitely excited for what was to come for the two of you.

“So is it a yes?”

“Of course—”

“Not!” Amelia, Catherine’s long time friend and Jimin’s wife of two years, sneers, her teeth grinding at the mention of you, “This is not your fault Catherine! So don’t you dare say that,” she frowns, the two were currently strolling through her garden, Catherine finally admitting everything to her friend.

“I know it's not,” her heels clack against the cemented paveway, her hands softly grazing against the roses next to her, “but I keep asking myself,” she scoffs, “could this have been avoided?” Amelia’s who was already about to say something is stopped by Catherine, who raises her finger to signal that she could explain, “I mean I could’ve saved myself the trouble, leave the first sign there was of not even the affair, but the first sign of him just not loving me,” she chuckles, “I don’t know, I just keep trying to find answers to all my questions when really they’re all right there in front of me … I just refuse to face them,” she tugs at the rose petal she’d been grazing her fingers on for the last minute, watching it as it fell to the ground.

Amelia scowls at Catherine’s words, “Maybe if that whore of a woman learned how to respect marriages,” she snarls, unable to comprehend how Catherine could possibly be making excuses for you and Jungkook, “then this whole ordeal wouldn’t be happening. She’s going to get what’s coming to her one day.”

Loudly, Catherine exhales a breath of air, exhausted of going in circles with this conversation, honestly she didn’t expect any good advice from Amelia, she just needed an outlet to keep herself sane, “I expected to hate him,” Catherine shakes her head in dismay, “ No, I wanted to hate him, something to masquerade my hurt,” the nights of wishful thinking and crying in bed begin to cloud her mind, “It was like I was desperately waiting for the feeling to consume me, hoping the feeling would wash over me all at once,” she blankly stares at the roses in front of her, “the same way the ocean washes over a seashore at night, you know? But instead I was forced to slowly experience every raw feeling that stemmed from this situation.”

Coming to a halt, Catherine pulls out a cigar from her purse, signalling to Amelia that she needed a lighter, only causing her friend’s face to scrunch in confusion. Catherine rolls her eyes, “Why are you acting like you don’t smoke, Jimin isn’t even here,” she callously says, “Come on, I’m waiting,” she murmurs, the cigar in between her lips.  

Begrudgingly she pulls out her lighter, bringing the flame to the tip of the cigar, an exhale of smoke immediately following after, “There’s rumours these things are addicting,” Amelia mumbles, watching as Catherine inhales another puff.

“There’s also speculation in the New York Times that they can kill you, but you don’t see me believing everything I read now do you,” Catherine laughs, the two continuing their stroll, different things on both of their minds.

“Cross, loop, under the bridge. over the loop, and,” Jungkook hums the tune once made to remind himself how to tie his necktie, “secure,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair as he didn’t exactly picture himself getting ready in his firm’s office building. But today had been a long day and he didn’t have the time to go back home and change, especially since he still had to go pick you up, and well anyone who knew you, knew that getting ready on time was not your forte.

Instead he decided that his black suit, and a color change of tie would suffice. It wasn’t like the two of you were going to be there for too long, your performance was at the near beginning, the opening act per say.

He was excited to see what you’d pick out to wear, your outfits never failing to put a smile on his face, not because most of the time they were over the top and extravagant, but simply because it was you. Had it been anyone else wearing the things you dressed in, and he was sure he would’ve never bothered to spare even a glance. Honestly you could walk out with nothing but your nightgown and he would still do nothing but worship the ground you walk on.

“Tonight is going to be a good night,” he whispers, glancing at his now empty ring finger. It was going to be the start to something n—

A soft knock on the door interrupts, “Didn’t think I’d find you here,” a voice says.

Jungkook steps away from his mirror, surprised to find Jimin here at such a late hour, “Oh I didn’t realize you were still in the building,” he chuckles, “Thought I was the only one who did overtime tonight,” he glances at his wrist watch, time was on the essence, “Well I’ll see you at the event tonight, Amelia’s going with you, right?” Jungkook grabs his suit jacket from his chair, ready to make his way downstairs to the parking lot.

“Yeah, in fact I think Catherine is at the house helping her get ready,” Jungkook awkwardly tenses at the mention of his wife, the air in the room becoming stiff.

“Oh well that’s nice,” Jungkook gives him a small smile, making his way to walk out the door, “Like I said I’ll see you over there, I should really get going, my date is probably already waiting for me—”

“Y/N right?” Jimin casually asks. Jungkook stops in his tracks, mentally sighing to himself.

“Yeah you guessed it,” he gives Jimin an awkward superficial smile, his body slightly rocking back and forth in annoyance. Something about this interaction felt … uneasy.

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that…”

Jungkook cocks his head in confusion, “Talk about what,” putting no effort to hide his annoyance. Jimin remains silent, as if contemplating his next choice of words, “Jimin I don’t have all day,” he sighs. Whatever this was was better be good, he thinks to himself.

“I,” Jimin pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, “I need to show you something.”

Fixing your bright red lipstick, you hear the footsteps of someone entering the room, “I’m almost ready Jungkook, I just need to make sure these pins stay in place and I should be good to go,” you ramble, “Oh I’m so excited Jungkook! I couldn’t sleep all night yesterday, just thinking about performing was making me anxious, and well I just want to say thank you, you know? I know I wouldn’t be people’s first choice when it comes to performing at such a prestigious event, especially considering what a lot of people think of people who work in jobs like mine, but,” you fumble with your words, “but, it’s just so,” you clap your hands together, “oh I just can’t explain it! And to be your date,” your eyes sparkle. Tonight was going to be the night. Tonight you were going to tell him.

“To finally be given an opportunity it’s just—I don’t think I can thank you enough,” you finally breathe out, the feeling of excitement completely radiating off of you as you place your earrings on.

You wait for Jungkook to reply, to shower you with kisses like he always does when he sees you, but instead you’re met with complete silence, his figure from the reflection of the mirror completely frozen. Quickly you turn around, nose now wrinkled in confusion, “Jungkook?” you uneasily ask, the young man you were so enamored with only staring at you with a hardened gaze, his expression unreadable.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you ask again, your voice laced with concern, “Did something happen? Do I need to change my setlist? Cause I can easily do that, I mean a perf—”

“You’re not performing tonight,” he harshly interrupts, your face falling as you hear the annoyance drip from every word.

“Oh,” your skin pales, your voice failing to hide its disappointment, “Can I ask why?”

“Because I told the committee you’re not, I managed to find a replacement last minute,” your face crinkles in shock.

“Wait what?” What the hell was going on? Why would Jungkook do that? Did you do something? Your heart begins to thud against your chest, the tingling feeling in the soles of your feet quickly spreading all over your body, “Why—Why would … why would you do something like that?” your eyebrows furrow, the feeling of anger now rising from the pits of your stomach.

Jungkook chuckles before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, “You really had me fooled Y/N,” he purses his lips, trying his best to contain his anger, “I cannot believe I let things get this far with you,” his voice shakes, every word seething with anger.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you cry out, genuinely lost. Uncrumpling the piece of paper, he turns it towards your direction, “Am I supposed to know what that is?” you snap, your face becoming red at his vague comments.

“You know you could really stop with that whole stupid act of yours,” he spits, “Honestly I should’ve known better than to trust someone like you,” he lets out a dry laugh.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you clench your fist.

“Well here take a look at it for yourself,” harshly, you snatch the letter from his hands, your eyes quickly skim through the contents of it. 

“You think I wrote this?” your eyes widen in shock, now getting up from your seat and handing the letter back to him.  

“I know you did,” he laughs, flailing his arms in the process, “Really Y/N? Jimin? Of all people? Did you really think it wouldn’t come back to me?” he almost sounds disgusted.

“But I didn’t! This isn’t even my handwriting!” tears of both frustration and anger begin to well in your eyes, “You have to believe me!” your voice booms across the room.

“I don’t have to believe shit!” he finally yells, the veins from his neck now popping out, “Your signature and name are written in these Y/N! You know how embarrassing this is?” he presses, “All because you can’t keep your fucking legs closed!” your mouth gapes in shock,  “And God I can only imagine the amount of men you’ve probably tried seducing, I’m just the idiot who fell for it all,” he laughs, “And you know I kept trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t do something like this, that you wouldn’t try seducing a married man,” his words drip with sarcasm, “But you have!”

Rapidly you try to blink your tears away, refusing to let him see you cry, “You don’t mean that,” you whisper, shaking your head at his words.

“But I do!” he bites back, “But you know what it's fine,” he knew the next words that were going to come out of his mouth were going to be a low blow. And in the back of his mind he knew he didn’t mean them, but he was angry, no, he was furious. He didn’t care what he had to say, he wanted you to feel just as hurt as he was, “it’s fine because I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing you’ll be stuck here for the rest of your life doing God knows what like the who—”

“Can you stop,” you try to scream, but instead your voice comes out hoarse, your lower lip trembling in sadness, “please,” you whisper, no longer being able to take any of this, “I didn’t write those letters,” you repeat, desperate for him to listen to you, “I know you have reason to believe Jimin, he’s your long time friend, I understand that, and I know my job doesn’t exactly have the best reputation,” you ramble with your words, heaving in between, “But I wouldn’t do this to you!”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because I,” your voice shakes, “Because I’m in love with you,” you cry out, “Don’t you get it? In love,” you emphasize, moving your hands in frustration, “You think I would’ve kept this going for so long if I didn’t feel something for you?” He remains silent, “I fell in love with you, okay? You!” you scream , “The way you kiss me, the way you touch me,, the way you laugh at every corny joke I make, the way you reassure me about myself whenever I feel insecure, the way your eyes light up whenever you talk about something that fascinates you whether it be boring old stocks to future industrial revolutions,” you let out a choked sob, “or the way you have this compulsion to squeeze my cheeks every time you tease me, and I could go on and on.”

“You’re my person,” you whimper, the final plea in this tragic story.

He turns his gaze to the floor, refusing to look at you, “I was never yours to begin with,” he mutters, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind, leaving you to ask yourself, What. Just. Happened?

Leaning against the door frame, Catherine exhales whatever’s left of her cigar, butting the stub on the wall. “You know, I really don’t mind moving to my parent’s country townhouse,” she casually says, calmly watching her soon to be ex-husband pack his office belongings.

It had been two weeks since your argument with Jungkook, and though he couldn’t confidently say that you hadn’t been on his mind everyday since, he was sure he would be just fine. Of course, he had been sad the first couple of days, then the sadness had become anger once again, until finally he was where he was currently at. Numbness.

Distracting himself with loads of paperwork, working overtime, and being in the midst of a divorce was doing wonders. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if now at the age of twenty-two, greys hairs started to appear because of the overwhelming stress he had to deal with.

Bringing himself back to reality, he’s quick to reject Catherine’s idea, “No, it’s fine, you picked out this place to begin with,” he chuckles, “Hell, I still remember how excited you were about decorating and the effort you put into all of this,” he gives her a small apologetic smile, “it’s only right that you stay. Honestly, I don’t see why you wouldn’t, you did an amazing job with this place.”

“Still, you paid for this place, it’s under your name,” she responds, “This place is just too much of a—” she hesitates.

“Reminder,” Jungkook completes, now having stopped his packing. The two stand there in what couldn’t be described as an awkward silence, but one of understanding.

“A reminder of what we illusioned ourselves in,” she looks down at her ring finger, smiling at its empty sight, “it’s funny,” she laughs, “even before you started the affair, I used to look down at my ring, and for some reason I never did feel,” she pauses, “what’s the word,” she takes a couple of seconds to regain herself, “I never truly felt… happy,” she states, surprised at how such a simple word could mean so much, “but now I look at the sight of it being gone, and I feel relieved, in fact, I feel... free,” she reiterates, her eyes now watery.

“We were young and pressured, I didn’t even have a sense of my own identity yet, and I mean not that it’s any excuse for what you did,” she emphasizes, “but I’m sure you didn’t have one either, I guess we were just too busy trying to please our respective families,” she scoffs, a smile now on her face, “I still even get your birthday confused sometimes,” she jokes around, causing Jungkook to flash his toothy grin at her, “Never did I bother to learn the small details about you,” she inhales and exhales a deep breath, “but she did,” she says, breaking eye contact with Jungkook, not because she was mad or sad, but because she’d come to realize something.

“I was in love with the idea of you, the things you would buy me, the compliments I would get from everyone around me, the idea of being able to flaunt a perfect life, but I think, no, I know I was never in love with you,” she looks at Jungkook once again, tears now freely flowing from his eyes, a chapter in their life now coming to its end.

“I don’t hate you for what you did Jungkook,” she blinks her own tears away, personally tired of all the crying she’s done, “nor do I hate Y/N,” she says, for the first time saying your name, the name smoothly rolling off the tip of her tongue, no ill feeling behind it, “I just wish things could’ve been different, in terms of us realizing that we were just never meant to be,” she finishes off, the final wave finally washing over her. The feeling of acceptance.

Catherine slowly walks towards him, embracing the crying man into a hug, giving him a small heartfelt kiss to the cheek, “I really am sorry Catherine,” he whispers, the words being nothing but genuine.

“I know,” she whispers in return. Gently, she breaks from the hug, wiping the tears that brimmed her eyes, “Come on, you gotta finish your packing,” she says, rolling the sleeves of her robe, and making her way to his desk.

“It’s fine really,” he starts, but she’s quick to ignore him and begin her rummaging of his things. So instead of fighting against her help, he goes back to continuing with what he was doing, the two quietly organizing things, finally at peace.

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jungkook huffs, taping the final cardboard box of paperwork. The two step back and look at the empty room, feeling proud of their hard work, “Well I’m gonna go take this down,” Catherine nods in response, Jungkook now leaving the room.

Her eyes scan the room one last time, making sure nothing was getting left behind, until surprisingly, she does in fact catch something from the corner of her eye. The edge of a piece of paper below the wooden bookshelf sticking out, “That’s weird,” she mumbles to herself, surprised at how she failed to notice it earlier.

Crouching down, she picks up the torn piece of paper, her eyebrows now furrowing at its incompleteness, with only half of the whole sheet being there. She turns the direction of the paper to where there’s writing, her eyes widening at what she sees, “Oh no,” she whispers to herself, trying to think quick on her feet, “The trashcan,” she says to herself, quickly grabbing it and tossing the remnants onto the floor, her breathing now uneasy as she sat on the floor, beginning to uncrumple the pieces of torn paper, silently hoping what she was thinking was all some twisted joke.

With her burst of adrenaline she somehow reassembles the ripped letter, her stomach dropping at the sight of the complete version, completely ignoring the footsteps that were making their way up.

To Jimin,

I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, you should come backstage sometime for your own personal show, just like your friend. I’m sure he won’t mind. Honestly, I’ve been getting a little bored of him these days. And don’t worry, I don’t mind seeing that ring on your finger. You know where to find me…

XO, Y/N.

“Mr. Olsen seems to have gotten a new ca—” Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, immediately tensing at the sight in front of him, “Catherine what are—” Jungkook doesn’t continue with what he’s about to say, the sight of Catherine’s shocked face now confusing him more than ever.

“Oh Amelia, what did you do,” she quietly breathes out, her face now frozen in place, and her hand covering her mouth.  

“What?” Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, “Amelia? What does Amelia have to do with—” his face immediately falls, his heart sinking at his realization.

“This,” Catherine stutters, “This is her handwriting,” she says, now looking up at Jungkook, whose face was in just as much as shock as hers, “I swear Jungkook, I didn’t know she’d do something like this,” Catherine rubs her temple, “Last time I saw her, she was bad mouthing Y/N but I didn’t she’d—” she shakes her head in dismay, “Jungkook, if I would’ve known I promise you I would’ve stopped her,” Catherine’s words sound like nothing but echoes in Jungkook’s head, his mind currently racing through a countless number of thoughts. His words from the last time he saw you now echoing in his head, the look on your face etching into his mind, oh how you kept denying the letter. The sudden pang of guilt, much too overwhelming.

“I know Catherine,” he whispers, but  all he could do was stare at the letter on the floor. And as if time was frozen, he slowly glances at the mantel clock, his heart now pounding.

8:15 PM.

You should be performing in a bit, he thinks. Immediately he switches gears, hurriedly grabbing the coat on his desk and placing it on, “I,” he stutters, a frenzy look on his face, “I have to go,” he says, quickly running out the door. The only thing he could do was hope he’d catch you on time.

“Oh look who's back, it seems I haven’t seen you in a while,” the sultry hostess purrs, “oh and that ring of yours is gone, trouble in paradise?” she pouts, guiding him to one of the tables. Politely he makes a motion to her, as if to say that he was fine, “Mm well if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me hun,” she winks, making her way back to the greeting area.

Jungkook, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe, adjusts his tie. His leg now bouncing rapidly in complete anxiousness, feeling the stares of a certain someone. He turns to face whoever it is, finding both the bartender and his girlfriend, whose names he was unsure of, staring at him from the bar.

The woman slyly mixes her drink with her stirrer, eyes narrowing at the sight of him, refusing to look away. The man then whispers something to her, making her finally break away from the intense stare.

Jungkook turns back around, the heavy feeling in his chest making it hard to focus on the current performer, not that he really wanted to, but he needed a distraction, something to prevent him from drowning in his own thoughts.  

The claps mellow down as the curtains close, the famous club owner, Al, making his way to the front of the stage, mic now in hand. Jungkook felt as if his stomach was doing flips, both excited and nervous to see you, as he knew you’d probably be quick to spot him, only hoping he wouldn’t scare you off.

“She’s got a voice sent from the heavens above, almost as smooth as a Friday’s glass of whiskey,” Al starts off your usual introduction, Jungkook’s heart pounding with every word spoken, “she can sing, she can dance, she can act, she’s a triple threat of course! And to add to it all, she’s got the face of the doll,” the red curtain slowly begins to open, “she’s our newest star in the making, give a warm welcome for Miss Sally Rose!”

A young woman appears from behind the curtain, counting off the same way you always did, making the same exact motion you always do to the band. Jungkook could feel himself become sick as he heard the men begin to holler at her with every piece of clothing that began to drop, as long as they had something to satisfy their lust, it didn’t matter who was on that stage, as they were nothing but animals.

Where the hell were you? This was, no, this is your time slot. Maybe you’re out sick, he tells himself, no, you loved the stage more than anything. The same woman from earlier passes by with drinks in her hands, on her way to serve God knows who. He’s quick to flag her down, hoping she knew where you were, “What can I do for you handsome?” she winks.

“You don’t happen to know where Y/N is?” he politely asks.

The question causes her to scoff, “Oh darling, me and the girls have been wondering the same thing,” she chuckles, before walking away with her drinks, leaving Jungkook much more puzzled than before. Maybe you were late, he excuses, trying not to panic.

But as every performer begins and ends, the more restless he becomes, every drink he takes only causing the echoes from every holler to become more and more irritating, the world around him now spinning.

An hour later, the young woman comes out again, performing the final song of the night, just like you always would do. Truthfully speaking, he would’ve paid no mind to the performance, but something catches Jungkook’s eye. The woman seems to have her gaze fixed on a young man in the crowd, his wife chattering with the other woman sitting next to her. The same way Catherine would—he shakes his head in dismissal, blaming what he was seeing on his drunk state.

He’s quick to get up, deciding that it was best to momentarily take a step outside and catch a breather. You had to be backstage or something, he tells himself, deciding that he’d wait until everyone was gone to see you, just like he always did.

“Things will be just fine,” he whispers, mouth trembling from the cold weather.

Sighing, Jungkook takes one last look at his empty ring finger before making his way back inside, his nerves at an all time high. He knew you were avoiding him, and he knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see, but he needed to tell you that he was sorry. That what he said was something spoken out of anger, that he was hurt, and most importantly that he should’ve believed you.

Walking in, he sees the bartender flipping chairs on top of the table, presumably cleaning up for the night. Most nights, Jungkook would simply go straight backstage, as you had told him early on in the affair that there was no need for him to introduce himself to your co-workers, but tonight, well tonight he felt like an intruder.

He stands there momentarily, the stiffness in the room almost suffocating.

“She’s gone,” the young man bitterly scoffs, not bothering to spare a glance at Jungkook, “I thought you knew that already,” he mumbles to himself, as he continued to flip the wooden chairs and place them atop of the tables, finishing what was left of cleaning.

Jungkook stares at him for a moment, the words slowly processing in his head. What did he mean by you were “gone”? You wouldn’t leave, it was unlike you. Actually, no, you couldn’t leave, where did you have to go?

He shakes his head in dismissal, shooting the brown haired man a quizzical look, “What did you say again?'" he asks. Namjoon finally looks up from what he’s doing.

Jungkook expected a spiteful glare from Namjoon, one full of hatred for what he had done to his friend, but instead his eyes were hard-rimmed and fixed, immobile as the rest of his face. Almost as if he was studying Jungkook. The cold blank look on his face sends shivers down Jungkook’s spine, but he relents on breaking the cold stare, until finally Namjoon lets out a dry laugh.

“I knew you were a hard-headed person,” he nods his head in dismay, a superficial grin on his face, “you’re also a selfish one, so I should’ve known better,” he laughs again, in awe of how someone could be so … inconsiderate? Was that the word to describe Jungkook? Namjoon thought to himself, why were you so in love with this man, simply finding it hard to believe that you could fall for a man so self-centered.

“Haven’t you noticed by now that she’s been replaced?” Namjoon mocks, “or let me guess you thought you could waltz in here like a knight in shining armor, that she was on some kind of break or something and would forget the things you said, and then things would magically go back to normal,” Jungkook remains silent, “Well?” Namjoon deadpans.

“Y/N wouldn’t just leave like that,” Jungkook says, “it’s not like her,” Namjoon was lying, he had to be.

Namjoon shrugs, “Well guess what she’s gone, I could only wish I knew where. She just grabbed her things and left without a trace, no goodbye, no nothing, but go ahead, look for yourself,” Namjoon makes a motion towards your old dressing room.

Slowly Jungkook breaks eye contact, unsure of what to believe. Quietly he makes his way to the dressing room he’d been in a countless number of times in the past year, still in denial of what Namjoon just told him.

He lets out a deep breath before turning the door knob, a churning feeling in his stomach as he recalled the last time he was here, his words ringing in his head.

Immediately Jungkook feels his heart plummet as he sees the empty room, your vanity which was once full of makeup and bottled perfumes was now vacant of anything and the hangers which were once used for your extravagant outfits as well as your fluffy coats now hung unused.

Jungkook crouches to pick up the only thing that remained of you in the room, the golden glass-framed picture you had of yourself performing now shattered on the floor, a small snapshot of the star you were. He smiles in reminiscence, remembering the night the photo was taken, and how you kept rambling on about why Jungkook would spend so much to have the photo of someone like yourself taken, let alone a photo of your worst angle. But you had kept it nonetheless, hell you even hung it on the wall for safekeeping, only for it to be shattered by the same person who gifted it.

“You didn’t!” you gasp, picking up the framed photo which had been placed on your vanity desk, “When did you even take—how—” Jungkook quickly shuts you up by cupping your face, and giving you a kiss, immediately squishing your cheeks in the playful manner that he always did.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, “I thought since you didn’t want to accept my gift last time, a sincere one like this would be something you just couldn’t deny.”

“Those pearls were too much,” you shake your head in disapproval, “and you know why I couldn’t accept it,” the image of Catherine pops in your head as he remains silent, but you’re quick to shrug it off, “but this,” you say, waving the picture he had seen a plenty of times before tonight to his face, “this is special,” you grin.

“I knew you’d love it,” he smiles, giving you another peck on the lips.

“Honestly, you shouldn't have,” you laugh, still in disbelief of the photo of yourself. Hell, to have a portrait of yourself taken behind a plain old wall was already something expensive here in New York, and so to have a photo taken of yourself while performing was truly indescribable. “Too bad they got my worst angle,” you complain, causing him to roll his eyes. Grabbing the framed photo from your hands, he places it over the empty nail on the wall.

“Won’t you look at that,” he smiles, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, the two of you now silently admiring the hung photo.

“Jungkook?” you break the prolonged silence.  

He hums in response, turning his head to face you, your heart feeling as swelled as the ocean once near its moon.

“I—” you pause, just get the words out, you think to yourself. Maybe things would finally change. He stares at you in the same doe-eyed expression he always did whenever he was attentively listening to you, curious as to what you were thinking, “I just wanted to say thank you… for the photo,” you awkwardly smile, Jungkook slightly raising his eyebrow at your sudden behavior, but he doesn’t dwell on it too much, instead placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

The memory being one for a lifetime. 

Jungkook dusts off the glass fragments, carefully trying not to cut himself as his fingers graze over the flimsy developed photo. And as he studies the photo, the realization finally hits him, you were really gone.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispers to himself in a distant, quiet, lifeless voice, “I’ll be just fine,” he grazes the photo again, slowly crouching into his knees, photo still in hand, until finally the sounds of silent muffled sobs is the only thing that can be heard from your dressing room.

Namjoon quietly sweeps the floor, humming some Duke Ellington, trying his best to ignore the thoughts that lingered in the back of his mind. Jungkook had left hours ago, Namjoon having heard the silent cries from your dressing room, and for a slight second even making eye contact with the red puffy-eyed man as he left, who had been mumbling inaudible things to himself.  

He didn’t think he’d cry, was what Namjoon had first thought to himself after hearing Jungkook silently sob in your empty dressing room. He honestly expected Jungkook to do anything but cry, hell Namjoon had even told himself to be ready to throw some punches just in case he tried anything stupid.

And so to see Jeon Jungkook, the man who had been coming to this bar for the past year, never failing to order a classic gin and tonic, and always seeming like he was on top of the world, break down in a tiny isolated room, was almost something unimaginable. And for some reason it bothered Namjoon. It wasn’t that Jungkook wasn’t allowed to cry...

Namjoon momentarily stops what he’s doing, sighing in frustration.

It bothered him because it went against everything he thought of Jungkook, the image he had created for Jungkook in his head. It would mean that Jungkook was someone who never meant to be so selfish, but was someone who was emotionally blind to those around him.

And isn’t the unknown always a bit scary?

The only problem was that being blind was something involuntary, and with the countless stories you’d tell Namjoon from time to time, sometimes it seemed like Jungkook was voluntarily choosing to ignore the feelings of those around him.

Namjoon could only speculate why, but maybe, just maybe Jungkook was the kind of person who had long ago put his personal feelings aside to please those around him, including his wife, thinking that it’d be what was best.That he could live a numbing life as long as it meant those around him were satisfied, that it was enough to feel fulfilled with, until you came into the mix.

And once you did, the conflict of choosing what made him happy versus what made others happy while trying to spare both sides’ feelings and opinions, only did more harm than good, stupidly choosing to blindly believe of a false letter. 

And now Jungkook was left with no one but himself.

Was it deserved? Namjoon was unsure now. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N, Namjoon thinks to himself.

The only reason he would excuse your actions was because to those around you, seeing you happy was like the sun shining after a storm, a shine so bright you’d think those happy days would last forever, but to see you sad, it was as if the world would storm on end.

But what Namjoon should’ve realized was that at the end of the day, what you and Jungkook had done was wrong, and there was no denying it.

Hell, it even went against Namjoon’s personal beliefs. Of course it didn’t mean that he was no better of a person because the same way you two had to face the karma of your actions, he and Mina would have to reprimand themselves one day as well for excusing your actions. For allowing things to have gotten this far.

“Jungkook really did love you,” he whispers to himself, shaking his head at the conclusion of this awful tale.

Namjoon sighs.

All he could do was hope that he had done the right thing lying to Jungkook about your whereabouts, and that the next time Namjoon saw you, you’d be the successful woman you were always meant to be, and that this period in your life would be nothing more than a small chapter to look back at.

“Ticket ma’am,” the conductor approaches you. Pulling out your ticket from your purse, you allow the conductor to both inspect and punch the ticket with his rustic clipper, “Now what is a pretty New York doll like you going all the way to the city of Los Angeles for?” he chimes, “You sure you ain’t lost little lady?” he jokes, causing you to laugh.

“I sure ain’t, I’m going to Los Angeles to follow my dreams in becoming famous! You might even catch me on the big screen soon!” you gush, causing him to let out a chuckle.

“Well little lady, I’ve heard that one before and I’ve told every single person I’ve come across that it’s almost impossible,” he mentions, “And I have yet to be proven wrong,”

“Well Mr,” you glance at his name tag, “Rosco, you better remember my name and face because I’m going to make it big in Hollywoodland, I don’t care if it’s as a singer or as an actress, but just you wait!” you declare, a toothy grin plastered on your face.

“Well little miss,” he glances at the ticket which has your name printed in a red colored font, “y/n, I’ve gotta say, I don’t think I’ve met anyone with the same amount of enthusiasm you got going for yourself,” a genuine smile comes across his face as he returns you your ticket, “I wish you nothing but the best on your endeavors,” he compliments, before making his way to the seated passenger in front of you.

Looking out the train’s window, the fields of grass along with the bright blue sky that were being passed by faster than a speeding bullet, for some reason make you feel a longing for home, it was probably because everything was barely hitting you. From the moment he had said what he did in your argument, everything onward had been nothing but a sporadic adrenaline-rushed blur.

“Jungkook?” you ask to an empty room, the shakiness of your voice coming to realize the reality of what has just occurred. The sinking feeling in your chest was what could only be described as heartbreak, though it felt like so much more.

He’s coming back, he’s going to come back. He has to come back, you keep repeating to yourself. Jungkook loves you. He didn’t mean what he said. He couldn’t.

You stare at the photo you had hung on the wall, which was now cracked on the floor, a result at just how harsh the door had been slammed. You could feel the lump in your throat beginning to take its form, but you refuse to let it out. He’s coming back, he has to.

The sound of the door knob twisting quickly grabs your attention, a feeling of relief washing over you. You knew he’d come back. You were his girl, you were the love of his life.

But just as quick as the relief had come, it had left even faster once you saw that the person you thought walking through that door was in fact not Jungkook, but Namjoon who stood there in silence, trying to hide the look of pity on his face. “Y/N…” he whispers in sadness.

“N-No,” your lips wobble, “No,” you begin to vigorously shake your head in denial, “No!” you quaver out, desperately trying to blink back the floodgate of tears that was begging to be released. Namjoon could feel his gut clench at the hopelessness of the situation, knowing that there was nothing he could possibly do because Jungkook was gone, and he was not coming back.

He watches as the tears slowly begin to freely fall, the silent sobs finally escaping from your mouth. Your chest heaves, until finally a cry so raw comes out of your mouth that you grab onto your vanity chair so that your shaking would not cause you to fall.

Quickly, he makes his way to envelope you in a tight hug, humming small comforting words to your ear despite knowing that you probably weren’t listening. You sob into his chest unceasingly, your hand clutching onto Namjoon’s jacket as he held you in silence, rocking you slowly as your tears soaked his chest, blinking back his own tears. The two of you stand there for what seems like forever, the sound of your muffled sobs filling the air.

The wet mascara that was mixing itself with your tears stinging your eyes, almost as if it was trying to force you to stop crying, but you just couldn’t. With every sob that forced its way out, your chest would rise and fall unevenly as you gasped for breath.

How could he do this? Why? Things weren’t supposed to end like this. Not at all. “Shh, shh,” Namjoon hums, “you’re gonna be okay, you hear me?” he reassures. You wanted to scream, to say something, anything, but nothing could come out. If anything you could feel your lungs scream for oxygen, your airway becoming compressed with every hysterical sob that was let out.

Quickly pushing off Namjoon, you feel as if the world is spinning and that the walls of your dressing room were closing in. You begin to gasp over and over, hysterically tapping on your stomach, “Get this,” you heave out, “Get this off of me!” you breathe out, lifting your dress up, and desperately trying to unknot the corset you were wearing underneath.

Namjoon quickly grabs some scissors from your vanity, cutting the piece of ribbon which held together the piece of fabric that clinched your waist. Immediately, you could feel the air return to your lungs, a feeling of relaxation now washing over you, as the riptide finally mellowed down.

You stand in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection across from you, your tears silently falling from your cheeks. Namjoon makes his way behind you, tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ear, “Hey, listen to me,” he whispers, “you are going to be just fine,” he firmly states.

“Joon?”

“Hm,” he responds.

“Can you,” your voice cracks, “Can you just take me home?” Your question is met with silence because instead he grabs a big oversized coat from your rack and places it over your shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, watching you as you made your way out of the dressing room, for what he knew would be your last time.

Waking up to the feeling of a hand firmly shaking your shoulder, your heavy eyelids struggling to flutter open, the soreness from crying taking its toll. You must’ve fallen asleep during the car ride home, you reason, finally managing to open your eyes completely. You rub your eyes, confused as to where you were because this was definitely not the outside of your apartment building.

In fact, you were outside of Grand Central Terminal, “What the..” you turned to face Namjoon, who had a sad smile on his face, “Joon? What’s,” you falter your words, “What’s going on?” you ask, confusion now overwhelming you.

He lets out a deep sigh of sadness before continuing, “You’re going to California Y/N,” if you had been half-awake before, you certainly weren’t now, quickly jolting forward in shock, “Los Angeles or may I say Hollywoodland to be more specific,” he reiterates, a tiny chuckle coming out of his mouth.

“J-Joon,” you stutter, “you’re crazy!” you sputter, “Absolutely crazy!” you hit his shoulder causing him to let out a yelp in pain.

“Y/N I’m being serious!” he turns and points to the passenger seat of his car, “I even managed to pack most of your things while you were asleep, all the essentials are in those two luggage bags.”

“How did you even—” you shake your head, trying to stay on topic, “Joon I can’t just pack up my things and go, I have—” you hesitate with your next choice of words, what exactly did you have in New York that was holding you back?

Namjoon answers the question before you could, “Nothing. You have absolutely nothing here to hold you back, so why not go chase your dream huh?” he exclaims, “It’s what you’ve always wanted to do Y/N and I’m one hundred percent sure Hollywoodland is looking for a doll face like yours to go shake up the scene,” he laughs, “You can dance, you can sing, and you sure can act, especially those days you wouldn’t want to come into work,” he jokingly mumbles garnering him another slap to the shoulder, “Hey, hey, relax! Point is Y/N, you’re one of the most talented people I know, if not the most talented person I’ve ever met, and it’d be a waste of talent for you not to go out there and show people what you’re made of, Hell I even hear they’re beginning to develop sound films over there, and a voice like yours needs to be memorialized for future generations,” he says, as tears to begin to brim your waterlids.  

“But Joon—” you sniffle, “I don't, I don’t have the money to live out there, hell I barely have enough money in my purse to purchase myself a ticket,” you scoff because it was the truth.

“I know you don’t,” he deadpans, causing you to laugh.

“Then?” you chuckle. Slowly, he flips his coat and reaches into its inner pocket, pulling out and handing you what seemed to be a heavy envelope. You peep inside the sealed white envelope, it’s content causing you to let out a small yelp in surprise. There had to be at least 200 dollars in there! You quickly shake your head in disapprovement.

“Joon, no, no, no! You can't. You've been saving up for—!”

“Hey! Listen to me Y/N, look at me,” he demands, grabbing your hands which had been flailing around in denial. “This money right here means absolutely nothing to me if it means that someone like you can get the opportunity to pursue their dreams, especially because I know it’ll mean absolutely everything for you,” he smiles.

“But Joon, you’ve been saving up this money for your wedding for so long, I can’t, Mina’s going to kill you!” you fluster, Namjoon must’ve been going crazy or something. He’d been working so many hours for the past months, doing countless hours of overtime and being on his best behavior for some tips, how could he give it all up for some gamble at fame?

“I’ve already spoken to her about this and she had absolutely no problem with it!” he laughs, “A wedding is nothing but a celebration for a piece of signed paper, it won’t be the end of the world if we wait a little longer,” he reassures, “As long as Mina and I know we’re in this for life, then that piece of paper won’t change anything.”

“Joon I can’t—”

“You can and you will Y/N,” he firmly states, “plus you can always pay me back once you get rich and famous,” he teases, winking at you. “So, what do you say Y/N? You ready to go to Los Angeles?” You stare at him without blinking, a million thoughts racing through your head. This was your dream, the thing you’d spent a countless number of nights only imagining whenever you’d get up on that wooden stage to perform, and now you were finally going to get the chance to make it a reality.

“I don’t,” you hesitate, “I’m,” you feel your skin tingle with the words you’re about to say, now having made your decision, “I’m going to Hollywoodland,” you softly cry out in disbelief, a dimpled grin appearing on Namjoon’s face.

“Atta girl,” tears which weren’t of sadness, anger, but joy now falling from your face, as you quickly pull Namjoon into a hug. Slowly, he breaks away, “Come on, you gotta get going,” he glances at his wrist watch, which read a quarter past nine, “the train leaves half past nine, and I still gotta walk you to the departing area.”

Quickly buttoning up your coat and fixing your hair, you try your best to seem presentable, Namjoon grabbing your luggage from the backseat and exiting the vehicle, as you do the same, but for you it all feels different. Looking up to the building that surrounds the terminal, you soak in the final view of New York which you wouldn't be seeing for who knows how long. Years ago you’d imagine leaving home, but never like this, and for a moment it was as if time slowed down, almost like your brain needed a “photograph” to commemorate this moment,

The man playing on his saxophone outside the station for tips only adding a warm comfort to your fears, a reminiscent sound which was a balm to your mind, a reminder of the nostalgic chapter in your life that you’d look back to, whether it was with a joyful outlook was only for you to decide.

Slowly the two of you begin to walk to the departing area, your legs feeling more and more wobbly with every step you took. This was really happening.

“Here we are,” Namjoon announces, gently placing your luggage on the floor, and then placing hands against his hips in marvel at how gigantic the stationed train was. Your eyes glisten, once again pulling Namjoon into a hug. “You sure are emotional, you know that right?” he teases, causing you to only further tighten the hug.

You pull out the hug, “I’m going to write to you every week, I promise you!” you avow, causing Namjoon to immediately shake his head in disagreement.

“No, no, you have to focus on your career every waking minute Y/N, if anything just save a couple of bucks every month and ring me here and there, I’m always at the club most of the time and it’s not like you don’t know my schedule, plus I’m sure Al won’t charge me for using the telephone machine every once in a while,” he explains, voice slightly wavering, as his eyes were now glossy from trying to hold back his tears causing you to let out a laugh.

“Come on, you know you wanna cry,” you sniffle, pulling him in for another hug.

“Ah, I’m gonna miss you Y/N,” he laughs through his tears, “they don’t make em like you anymore.”

“This is the final boarding call for New York to Los Angeles which includes a stop at Chicago!” the conductor yells out the train, “I repeat, this is the final boarding call for New York to Los Angeles!” Namjoon quickly taps on your shoulders, rushing you to get on board.

Swiftly, you pick up the luggage cases on the floor, and begin to make your way inside the train but not before shouting something to Namjoon, “Hey, I expect to see a pregnant Mina the next time I see you guys, you hear me!” he facepalms himself, his cheeks becoming red at how loudly you announced it.

You quickly run to your seat, looking at Namjoon through the window, who remained where he stood, the train slowly beginning to move, while the conductor pulls the lever for the steam whistle, the final declaration to the new chapter in your life. You anxiously wave to Namjoon one last time, a grand smile on both of your faces, as he waves in return. The (what you assumed) family members of other passengers also waved goodbye, many teary eyed as you could only imagine the stories of everyone else on the train.

Once you were out of eyesight, you made yourself comfortable on your seat, slightly tilting your head against the window, a long unexpected trip now ahead of you.

Los Angeles from what you could currently tell was definitely different than to what you were used to in New York, but beautiful nonetheless. The cab you managed to pin down was currently driving you to the small motel you found on one of the welcoming pamphlets of the city.

Currently, you were being driven down the newly built Sunset Boulevard, where you could only hope you’d be living on sometime in the near future.

“Ah there it is,” the taxi driver points out the window, and immediately a wonderstruck look appears on your face, your heart now pounding in excitement at the sight of the word “Hollywoodland” appearing from the mountains. “Welcome to Los Angeles kid,” the man says, to which you only nod your head in dumbfoundedness, “you better make the most of it.”

“I sure am.”

a/n: i purposely left the ending ambiguous just because i felt like it should be your guys’ imagination as to whether y/n makes it big in hollywood depending on whether you like her or not LOL, so if you don’t like her you could always imagine she flopped or sum, and whatever jungkook does afterward being unknown as well. Catherine a better person than me, cause forgiving a cheater just aint in my heart LMAO.

also I wanted to dive further into namjoon and y/n’s friendship, as well as add a scene where y/n went shopping for her dress but I was burning out and so hopefully I did good conveying the sincerity of their friendship and the importance of the event to y/n + talk more about jk’s and catherine’s families but I think I put enough hints, that you guys would get the point and its effects on them as people. 

Feel free to comment, send me a message, or drop an anon! Anything is appreciated & if you can please like and reblog 💘 till next time.

[babbushka]

Good, Good, Good, Better

Medieval King!Kylo Ren x Reader 

3.1k ; Content warnings: Mention and description of food, NSFW (Aphrodisiacs, mutual masturbation, hand-feeding, bathtub sex, rough sex, PIV, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk) 

Available on AO3!

                                                ------------------

He is not but three steps through the grand wooden doors which lead to the bed chambers, when he is met with your body colliding against his.

Without thinking, Kylo winds his arms around you to catch you as you jump into his embrace, an act on instinct born from having loved you for so long. Your laughter is bright as he spins you around, as your arms lock themselves around his neck.

“Kylo! Darling, you’ve returned just in time.” Your eyes are wide and filled with sparkling mirth, something far more than just the reflection of the golden candlelight. He holds you round your middle so that your feet do not touch the floor, and you cross your ankles behind you as you whisper low in his ear, “I’ve planned a very special meal for us this evening.”

“I’m ravenous.” He smirks at you, settling you down gently and pushing on your shoulders. You immediately go to your knees in the way he had hoped you would, and fuck do you look so good on your knees like that. “Come rest your ear against my stomach, see how it rumbles.”

You bite your lip, and from your spot on the floor you ruck up his tunic enough to expose his abs. A thick thatch of coarse black hair trails down from his naval, and you do not restrain yourself from the desire to lick the hard muscle which burns so hotly under your touch.

Laughing the slightest bit at your theatrics, Kylo pets down your hair and presses your ear to his abs, when at just the right moment, there is a rumble through him. Ravenous, indeed.

“How loud!” You grin up at him, so pleased that he has returned home to you in as good condition that he has. He is filthy, and hungry, but there are no wounds to be seen, and for this you are grateful. 

So grateful that you cannot help but be more playful than usual, so you smile as your cheek squishes against his abs, “Oh my King, this is a dire case, I must see at once that you are…satisfied.”

You look at one another, and he gives you a quirk of his brow, a suggestive quirk, as if to say, but you’re on your knees…

You don’t take the bait, instead getting up with a wide smile and taking his hand. He expects you to pull him through the castle and to the great hall, so when you head the opposite direction, head towards the bathing room he frowns concerningly.

“Blossom, this is…” He trails off though, when he sees the spread in front of him.

There is a large tub that has been brought to the center of the room, sitting over the fire pit which has gently been smoldering away, not much more than hot coals enough to keep the water steaming. A wooden plank stretches across one side of the tub, lavishly decorated with plates piled high with food and golden goblets of wine.

Floating in the water are herbs that produce a beautiful fragrance as they steep, candles are lit and near the opposite end of the bath, a musician is seated, gently strumming their lute.

“I thought you might like to enjoy your dinner with a long, hot, wet, soak.” You turn to your husband, licking your lips as your fingers deftly untie the yellow lacing which adorns your surcoat.

Kylo only hums in agreement, takes a step closer to you. You offer yourself to him, allow him to undress you in a way that he always clamors to do. The surcoat is a fine silk brocade, a pale blue with yellow filigree. It slips away from your body as Kylo unties it the rest of the way, and you practically shiver with anticipation as he unclasps a golden armband around the sleeve of your kirtle from each arm. After that, you are free to raise those arms above your head, and Kylo’s warm hands pull the bright blue kirtle up and over your head, letting it fall down to the floor, leaving you naked before him.

“Into the tub.” He instructs, reaching up to caress your cheek for a moment, before unpinning your hair and watching as it cascades down your back.

You do as you’re told happily, letting out a great moan as you step into the hot water, your body slinking down down down until your breasts are just barely covered. Kylo can see your nipples through the water, can see how they grow stiff as you adjust to the temperature. You look divine, next to the food. He doesn’t know what he wishes to feast on first.

Kylo rids himself of his clothing quickly, glad to have stopped by the armory to turn in his suit and mail for polishing before making his way to you. And make his way to you he does, the water spilling ever so slightly over the side of the great wooden tub, his muscles grateful for the heat of the water. Steam clings to his body as it does to yours, and he does not even think before corralling you onto his lap, licking and kissing slowly, steadily, at your throat.

“Open your mouth.” You whisper.

He looks up at you, sees what you have in your hand. You offer him what appears to be a large chunk of meat, roast venison and a perfectly soft and fragrant garlic clove. He accepts it, sucks on the fingers which enter his mouth as you press the food against his tongue. It is so flavorful, so tender and juicy, he moans as he licks up your wrist where a small droplet of sauce from the meat had rolled down.

“Again.” You grin, glad that the taste pleases him.

This time it is a large chunk of quail dipped in a pomegranate wine sauce, and the time after that it is steamed clams. Each bite is succulent, his mouth waters for it, so much so that he finds himself drooling as he watches you feed yourself in time. One for him, one for you, back and forth until your bellies begin to fill with the richness of the food.

Roast beef cooked as rare as was allowed, wrapped in a puff pastry spiced with saffron. Turnips, asparagus, carrots roasted in wine, scoops of hummus he licks and sucks off your fingers, out of your palm, kissing your skin after he swallows. You look at him with such joy, such heat behind your eyes.

“I know you have a plan of some sort, blossom, and if it were to kill me I’d be dead already.” Kylo teases, as he begins to feel…different.

Different in a good kind of way, different in a way that has him sweating – and not from the heat of the bath. His cock is achingly hard, his heart flutters, his stomach swoops, he finds that he has such a strong desire to fuck you that it’s beginning to take over every other thought in his mind. You are still on his lap, naked and beautiful and you smell so sweet, his dick rubs against your thighs and it has started to drive him mad.

Are you so affected? You must be, you’ve eaten the same foods, drank the same wine, surely you must be so affected.

He cranes his neck to look at you, and oh yes you are.

“Quite the opposite. I missed you.” You moan ever so softly as you move his hand.

Those hands of his have had a death grip on your waist and thigh, the way you’re seated on his lap has you turned sideways and your breasts are nearly pushed up into his face, he is nearly drooling with want.

“I was gone for two days.” His voice is husky, hoarse, as you guide one down between your legs, his large palm cupping your pussy. He can feel it pulsing for him, and his throat goes dry.

“Two days is a long time to go without my Knight in shining armor.” You whimper, pushing his hand against you more fully.

He gets the hint, and two of his thick fingers push into you easily to your absolute satisfaction. It’s a hard angle, but you waste no time wrapping your free hand around the thick shaft of his cock, giving it a steady squeeze. With your other hand, you reach back to the board of food and press a cream-covered chestnut into his mouth, and his cock only throbs harder.

“Oh!” Suddenly he understands, it’s the food that’s making you both like this, spurring you on. Something about the reaction your bodies have to the flavors, the spices, the something oh he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know but he wants more of it right now.

“There you are handsome.” Your face breaks into a breathtaking grin, and your hand speeds up, now that he’s finally gotten your plan all along. His moves in time with yours, and you lean your head on his shoulder as you jerk each other off, breathing a little quicker as you ask, “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” Kylo is quick to respond, his fingers moving and stretching your cunt so you can better take him. He is so hard, his cock is so heavy in your hand even there under the water, the curve of it a promise of that sweet burn of pleasure as your fingers trail up and down the thick veins which protrude from it. “Heaven above your touch has never failed in its magnificence.”

“I’m so wet for you Kylo, feel me, touch me, see how wet I am.” Your mouth is dropped open, the wet shine of your tongue darting out to lick at your lips, and something in Kylo’s brain trips up when your hips open wide enough for him to slip in a third finger all the way to the knuckle.

“I – I have to fuck you.” He grunts out, and you’re nodding before he’s even finished getting the words out.

“Grab me, go on, be rough with me.” You encourage eagerly, quickly, happily, practically begging him, “I need you, Kylo, I need you.”

With all the strength he possesses, he lifts you clean off his lap and turns you more fully to straddle him. Your back is pressed firmly against his chest as he sits you hard on his hard and doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he’s planting his heels on the basin of the tub and thrusting up into you.

“Ah!” You gasp aloud, your mouth latching onto his throat, teeth sinking into the meat of his neck as your muffled voice moans, “You’re so big, fuck -- !”

“You can take it blossom, my good girl, I know you can.” He pulls out nearly all the way, feels the muscles of your pelvis clench around him, desperately wanting to keep him inside, before thrusting back in and knocking the wind out of you. “It’s – shit that’s tight – it’s only been two days.”

“You have to fuck me twice as hard, to make up for it, oh Kylo!” You arch your back slightly, just enough for your ribcage to expand as you take in sharp breaths on each hard push of his cock through the slick folds of your pussy.

The water does the unfortunate thing of washing away all the pretty slick that comes out of your body, but you are smart, so smart, and you’ve oiled up the water so that it might help things go smoothly, and Kylo groans groans groans as he shoves his cock farther into your cunt.

“Did you play with yourself while I was gone?” He demands to know, his arms hooking under your armpit and nearly holding you in a headlock, keeping you still. You’re squirming so much, the sensations from the food filling your whole body and driving you just as mad as he.

“No!” You wriggle against his hold, wanting to touch your clit, wanting to fuck yourself harder on his cock. He’s got you tight, the fast drag of his dick against your walls has you moaning loud, “No I saved it just for you, I haven’t come in ages!”

“M-me neither.” He grunts, pleased to hear this. Sometimes you’re not so well behaved, sometimes he has to punish you for not following his orders. But this time, this time you were good, he can tell, can tell by how tight you are.

“You gonna come in me?” The back of your throat clicks as tears of pleasure begin to cling up on your eyelashes, “Are you going to fuck me full of your big hot load?”

“(Y/N),” He pants grunts groans as the water splashes out of the tub, as he bounces you on his cock hard fast wet wet wet, so hot, burning up from the inside out, “Say my name, keep – I want to hear you crying for me.”

“Please! Please, I – Kylo, Kylokyloooohgod!” You’re shouting, eyes shut tight as your body tremors on top of his, as your teeth clack together from how your orgasm shoots up your spine.

Quickly, Kylo grabs that golden goblet from which he has sipped all night, cradles the back of your head gently yet firmly and tips the rim to your lips.

“Drink this and come on my cock.” He encourages, and you let it pour into your mouth, overflow all across your chin, let it drip and stream in rivulets between your breasts.

He has to see, has to taste it, so he pulls off of you for only long enough to turn you to face him fully, your legs shaking so badly that they cannot find purchase around his hips, so he must hold you up. You take the goblet in a pleasure weak hand and slosh spiced wine onto your breasts more heavily, your hand pushing Kylo’s head down to take them into his mouth.

“Fuuck,” He sucks and licks the wine off your nipples, broad strokes of his tongue as he lifts and lowers your hips fast fast fast and hard, fucks you on his cock, “I’m going to come in you, I’m going to come in your perfect fucking cunt.”

“Yesyesyesyes!” You’re hiccupping, crying around him, chin wobbling and eyes shut tight as you clench around him.

He slams his cock up into your pussy once more, his spine on fire from pleasure, tears coming to his own eye, drool hanging off his teeth and chin, as he comes and comes and comes, hot and thick, and so much of it that you’re sure you can feel it spreading through you. You’re moaning, and he’s grunting lowly against your chest, sounding almost like he’s in pain.

“I’m…fuck I’m still hard, I’m – ” Kylo’s starting to see spots, his vision clouding out as his cock pulses inside of you, spills and spills and spills but still craves more, “Blossom, don’t move don’t -- ohh.”

You lay him back against the edge of the tub, determined and hungry, eyes blown wide and pupils black with lust, as you find a second wave of energy to ride him fast fast fast, your hands braced on his chest as his cock splits you into two.

He grabs at your chest and kisses all over you, harsh biting kisses that will leave marks and bruises, the kind that when you’ve had your fill of one another, he will press his thumbs into to make you moan once again and again as they fade. He bites down, sucks and kisses at your shoulders, your breasts, your throat, his hand slipping down between your bodies to shakily rub at your clit.

“I’m so close, harder? Harder, please, please I’ll do anything – right there!” Your voice rises rises rises in volume until it breaks, cracks under the pressure of pleasure and screams for him, “Don’t you dare stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“I won’t -- I need more,” Kylo’s jaw is dropped, his eyes rolled back into his head, visions of heaven sprayed behind his eyelids, visions of you. He does not even open his eyes to groan, “Stars, but you’re beautiful.”

You come again, your body wracked through with nerves so hard that you’re nearly convulsing, knees shuddering shaking around his wide hips. Your body collapses on top of his lap, gone limp in a way that has your hips relaxing and somehow, somehow, Kylo’s cock is forced deeper from the gravity of your relaxation.

He comes again, simply from the sheer all encompassing feeling of you – your body on his, your cunt tight hot wet on his cock, your hands in his hair, your taste on his tongue, your scent curling up into his nostrils and making him have no other means to function other than to come in you.

Your breathing is hot and ragged, both of you. The lute playing has since finished, the musician likely having gotten the hint and left the room unnoticed. Food has been knocked everywhere, goblets of wine are overturned. Everything is still, and Kylo is content to simply hold you and caress you as you rest your head on his chest.

He brushes your soaked hair away from where it sticks to your back, his calloused fingers grazing up and down your spine as he softly kisses your temple.

“Thank you, darling.” You sigh, your voice unsteady but filled with bliss.

“You’re trembling.” He chuckles deep in his chest, looks down at where you’re against his chest and kisses you properly, kisses your shaking smile.

“You’re still hard.” You shift your hips on his cock, not having pulled off of him yet. He groans softly, licking his lip as pleasure tickles his mind. You regard him with such love that he has to blush, when you say, “Tis a good thing then, that the fire underneath this bath has not gone out yet.”

“What have you done to me? What spell am I under?” He mumbles softly, teasingly, wanting to make you laugh. He does so love to hear you laugh.

“No such witchcraft, only the natural properties of a good meal, good wine, and good baths.” You wink at him, tucking his wet hair behind his ears. He blushes some more, embarrassed of the way his ears stick out, but you only give them a sweet tug.

“Mmm, and better pussy.” He agrees, picking up a last surviving piece of food that had not yet fallen off the board, and pressing it into your mouth, gearing up for a long night ahead.