#i love every host with all my heart

[ectoplasmer]

i can feel the ryou brainworms just feasting right now

[ayyponine]

girl help im going back n forth on whether or not i should send an email to thank the beautiful man fr letting me join the drawing session last week (more info on that entire situation here and here) and letting him know i probably wont be back but appreciate having had the experience either way. great or horrible idea leave a comment or DM to lmk.

[reyalvr]

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊  3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

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KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t. 

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face. 

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up? 

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?” 

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” 

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. 

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him. 

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his. 

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate. 

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on. 

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.” 

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.” 

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-” 

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson. 

Shit. Strike two. 

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him. 

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag. 

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself. 

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance. 

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours. 

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three. 

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours. 

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger. 

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence. 

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you. 

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up. 

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place. 

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking. 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices. 

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd. 

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system. 

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.” 

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.” 

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone. 

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on. 

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something. 

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” 

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously. 

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board. 

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely. 

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words. 

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off. 

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan. 

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. 

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything. 

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.” 

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door. 

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.” 

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in. 

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while. 

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.” 

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features. 

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.” 

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation. 

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.” 

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine. 

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being. 

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[rosicheeks]

Maybe just a movie and snacks night at Rosie's house with some friends ! Maybe pick them up and have a lil smoke before you settle in 🥰

Fuck that sounds so nice 😭

[pomefioredove]

a private meeting

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"

The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.

Leona yawns.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"

Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"

"Look who's talking,"

Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.

"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"

"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."

Malleus shakes his head.

"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"

A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.

"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.

"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.

"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"

The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"

"...Alright,"

"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."

Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.

"How rude,"

"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."

"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."

"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.

"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"

Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.

He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"

Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.

"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."

Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"

Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.

"Open it!"

"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.

"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."

"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.

"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.

"Can I just leave?"

"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."

"Rook, don't,"

"Rook!"

The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.

"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"

"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."

Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"

"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"

Everyone in the room nods.

"Alright. Rook, read it,"

Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.

The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.

Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.

Vil gasps.

"Grim! Put that down!"

The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.

And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.

Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"

"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.

A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.

"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"

"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."

"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.

"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"

The prince rolls his eyes.

Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"

Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.

Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.

"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"

Malleus beams.

"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."

He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.

Slowly, everyone turns to each other.

[puppym3]

⋆˚࿔ seven minutes in heaven 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

lee felix x fem!reader

synopsis: you and your best friend, felix are at a party. felix has a massive crush on you and you have no idea, so when you get picked for seven minutes in heaven with him, you didn't expect it to change everything for you.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, friends to lovers, 7 minutes in heaven (duh), alcohol consumption (not much), reader is dumb, fluffy, kinda angst, a lot of kissing, they're both horny, felix is pining, confessions, a lot of banter, other members are mentioned, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: SECOND FELIX FIC OF THE DAY, EAT UP. no fr i love spoiling you guys. pls pls leave suggestions in my inbox i literally am running out of ideas... also also if u want to be tagged in future fics lmk, i think that's it, I LOVE YOU GUYS FR!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The music thumped through the walls, the bass reverberating in your chest as you sat on the edge of the couch, nervously sipping your drink. Felix stood beside you, offering comfort amidst the sea of strangers. The house party, hosted by Chan, was in full swing, with people mingling and chatting all around.

You'd been reluctant to come, but Felix had convinced you with his warm smile and persistent charm. After all, you’d been best friends for years, sharing countless memories and inside jokes. What you didn’t know was that Felix had been harboring a crush on you for almost as long.

"Hey, are you having fun?" Felix nudged you gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar, reassuring way. His cheerful voice always brightened the place.

"Yeah, it's alright," you lied, forcing a smile. Parties weren't really your thing, and mingling with strangers made you uneasy. But with Felix by your side, it was bearable.

As the song ended, Changbin’s voice rang out, calling everyone to gather in a circle. "Alright, everyone! We're playing 7 Minutes in Heaven!"

You groaned inwardly, rolling your eyes. "Seriously? That's so stupid," you muttered under your breath. Felix laughed in response, his laugh a soothing balm to your nerves. "Don’t worry, he’s just doing this so he can get a kiss from Hyunjin."

"Okay, but if I get picked, I’m not doing anything," you said with finality, taking another sip of your drink. Felix gave a non-committal hum, nodding as if he agreed with you. The thought of Felix potentially being picked by someone else made you uneasy, and you didn’t like the feeling. It was selfish, but you knew that if he did get picked, you’d probably make a scene or throw up so he'd be distracted and not have to go along with it.

You took a seat in the circle, positioning yourself right next to Felix as the others settled in around you. Your red solo cup was perched behind you, barely noticed.

Changbin spun an empty bottle in the center of the circle. You tried to keep your composure as you watched it spin, your heart rate increasing with every slow rotation. The bottle eventually landed on a girl you didn’t recognize.

You heard Changbin mutter a curse word under his breath as he stood up.

"Why does he look so serious about it?" you whispered to Felix. "It’s not like you actually have to do anything, right?"

Felix shrugged, a faint smile on his face as he watched them walk to the closet. "That’s the rule, though," he explained, leaning in close. "If you’re chosen, you have to at least kiss."

Your stomach twisted at that comment. The thought of Felix, your best friend, being paired with someone else, made you nervous. Maybe it was the alcohol not sitting right with you, even though you hadn’t finished your first drink yet.

The 7 minutes went by quickly. Felix couldn’t help but steal a few glances at you. Your eyes were fixated on the floor, and your fingers twirled your hair absentmindedly.

"Alright, that’s enough time! Out, out, out!" Changbin shouted, pounding on the closet that locked from the outside. Chan was laughing as he unlocked the door, letting the two out.

The girl looked flustered, her lips swollen and her cheeks pink, while Changbin looked smug. You watched them rejoin the circle and settle back in.

The game continued, and eventually, it was Felix’s turn to spin. You swallowed thickly, praying that the bottle wouldn’t land on anyone.

"H-Hey Felix, maybe we should—"

He spun the bottle before you could finish your sentence. The sound of the glass against the floor made your nerves go haywire. You held your breath as the bottle began to slow, watching as it spun round and round. A woman you didn’t know from across the circle was giggling and whispering while looking at Felix, and it made your blood boil.

The bottle stopped, and your eyes widened as it pointed directly at you. Your heart seemed to skip a beat, a momentary pause in the rhythm of anticipation. You looked at Felix, who was trying to hide his smile, his freckled cheeks rosy.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol, the nerves, or the sudden burst of emotions that made you feel dizzy. You could hear the circle “ooh” ing and starting to whisper. Minho had a shit-eating grin on his face, and Changbin was giving Felix a thumbs up.

Felix stood up and held his hand out to you. "Come on, let’s go," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, a smile plastered on his face. You were too stunned to say anything, and the butterflies and alcohol in your stomach were making you nauseous.

You hesitantly took his hand and followed him to the closet.

The closet was tiny, only big enough for the two of you to stand facing each other. Once the door was closed and locked, the tension in the air felt palpable. The dim light barely illuminated Felix’s face. Your heart pounded in your ears, and the muffled sounds of the party outside only added to the surreal atmosphere.

Felix took a deep breath, his hand still holding yours. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his concern evident in his eyes.

"Yeah, just... nervous," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is kind of awkward."

He chuckled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. "It doesn’t have to be."

"But Felix, you’re my best friend," you protested, your voice trembling slightly. "What... what if this changes things?"

He shook his head, leaning closer to you. You could smell his shampoo, the familiar scent comforting you. "I would never let anything change that," he whispered, his eyes searching yours with earnest sincerity. "I promise."

You bit your lip, nodding slightly. He cupped your cheek with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. The gentle touch made your breath hitch.

"Okay, well... don’t make fun of me if I’m a shit kisser, then," you said, trying to break the tension with a joke.

Felix let out a small laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Only if you don’t make fun of me," he replied, a tiny smile on his face.

You looked up into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. Despite being best friends, or perhaps because of the three sips of alcohol, you wanted this. Felix leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours softly, barely a kiss, testing the waters. The contact sent a jolt through your body, and you felt your breath hitch. You closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

You’d always imagined how his lips would feel on yours—they always looked so plump and soft. And now that they were on your lips, they definitely exceeded your expectations. His warm, slightly alcoholic-tasting lips were soft against yours.

Felix’s lips lingered against yours, the kiss soft and tentative. The initial brush of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a rush of warmth spreading through you. His kiss was gentle but full of a quiet longing that made your knees weak.

He pulled away slightly, giving both of you a moment to breathe. Your eyes scanned his face, noting his flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. The desire in his gaze made your heart race. You wanted more.

Without a second thought, you pulled him back in, grabbing the sides of his face and pressing your lips to his once more. Felix hesitated for a second, his eyes widening in surprise, before he began to kiss you back. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss intensified with a new sense of desire.

The initial softness of the kiss transformed into something deeper, more passionate. You could feel his tongue gently probing at your lips, and you hesitated only for a moment before parting them to allow him access. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch with a skill and tenderness that took your breath away.

The kiss was slow and sensual, filled with a growing urgency. Your stomach fluttered as his hands explored your waist, his body heat pressing against you. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you could feel a knot forming in your stomach.

A soft whine escaped your lips, and Felix responded by pressing his body more firmly against yours. His chest pressed against your soft breasts, his knee parting your legs as he pressed closer. His leg pressing against your core only heightened your arousal.

You didn’t realize you were panting until you pulled away to take a deep breath. Felix’s lips immediately trailed down to your neck, his soft kisses sending your heart racing. His warm breath brushed your skin, his teeth lightly grazing your neck before his tongue soothed the area. It drove you wild.

His kisses traveled down to your collarbone, and you felt weak in the knees, literally. Your legs trembled, perhaps from the lack of oxygen or the overwhelming excitement. Felix picked you up and pressed you against the wall of the closet, his strong hands lifting you by your thighs. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

"Lix," you moaned out, barely above a whisper. His lips lightly brushed over your neck, peppering you with tender, gentle kisses.

"Hmm?" he hummed against your skin, his breath hot and reassuring. His grip on you tightened as he sucked another mark on your skin.

You could barely get the words out, the feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue all over your neck was driving you wild. You could feel your cheeks burning and the wetness pooling in your underwear, and you could tell he was getting hard from the bulge pressing against your core.

You heard a light knocking on the door.

"Do... do you think... the seven minutes are up?" you managed to get out, the words barely coherent. Felix stopped what he was doing, and it looked like he snapped back into it a little, you could feel his shoulders tense.

"Oh shit, we have been in here for a while." Felix's voice was shaky, and he sounded breathless.

He put you down, and you stumbled a little, still light-headed from the kisses. He helped you get steady, his arm supporting you. You could see the flush on his face and his tousled hair, and he could see the marks and red spots littered on your neck, his eyes were glossed over, and his breathing was heavy.

You tried to straighten your clothes, and he cleared his throat, fixing his hair.

The sound of the door unlocking startled you both.

You were still flustered and breathing heavily as the door opened. Chan was standing there, a smirk on his face. "Alright, come on out."

"You better not have fucked in there," Changbin said, appearing next to Chan, his arms crossed. "We have to sit on that floor."

You walked out of the closet, a dazed expression on your face, Felix close behind. You felt as if everyone in the room could see the marks all over your neck and the fact that your legs were still shaky.

The other members were gathered around the two, and their stares were almost enough to make you blush more. Minho's smug expression and the look of amusement on Jisung's face told you that they were aware of what just transpired.

"I need some fresh air," you said, trying to sound normal.

You didn't wait for Felix to respond and made your way through the crowded living room, towards the patio doors. The chilly night air felt refreshing against your heated skin, and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. You could hear the laughter and music coming from inside, the sounds far less intrusive out here.

You laid your head in your hands as you tried to take deep breaths, clearing your mind. You'd been best friends with Felix for years, and you pulled him in for another unrequired kiss.

You felt stupid for doing it, but it felt so good, the way he picked you up and devoured your neck and lips as if he was starving.

You could still taste him, and the memory alone made you weak.

But... what if it was just a mistake?

The alcohol made you reckless, and you didn't want to lose him, your best friend, just because you couldn't control yourself.

The thought of never feeling his lips against yours again made you feel a dull ache.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You should go back inside and forget about it for the night, besides, he said he'd promise this wouldn't ruin anything.

When you got back inside, you could see the girl you noticed earlier, giggling and batting her eyelashes at Felix.

She was pretty, sure, but it irked you.

But you'd seen her before, and you knew she wasn't as perfect as she seemed. She was a player, always going for men that were already in relationships, or men that were too young for her.

"Oh, it's my turn!" She exclaimed, looking over at Felix. Her voice was shrill, and it grated on your ears.

You observed her spinning the bottle, and just as it was about to halt, you caught her slyly halting its rotation with a discreet movement of her foot towards Felix. A surge of anger erupted within you, fueling an immediate response as you strode forward and forcefully kicked the bottle across the room.

It went flying across the room and shattered against the wall.

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone stared at you.

"Jealous much? You already had your moment with Felix." The girl taunted, her voice grating.

"Fuck you. You used your foot to stop the bottle on him." You retorted, glaring at her.

Felix's eyes widened, and he gave you a confused look. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, right! She's just a lying bitch." She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your cool. "Don't call me a bitch," you said, stepping towards her.

"Oh, so we're going to fight? Okay, fine. I've been wanting to mess up that pretty little face of yours."

Right before she could attempt to swing at you, but Felix stopped her hand, catching her wrist.

"Stop," he said, his tone stern.

"Felix is single, so he can kiss whoever he wants."

"Yeah, well, he's not single." You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Everyone from the circle was shocked and confused, and you could hear the whispers and questions.

"What?" the girl asked, her eyes wide.

Felix's expression was similar.

The words spilled from your lips, leaving you stunned and at a loss for an explanation, grappling with the sudden revelation that had escaped your own lips. You could feel the eyes on you, the curious stares and the whispers. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt like your head was about to explode.

"He's not single." You repeated, your voice firm. "He's... he's my boyfriend."

Felix had an unreadable expression, but it looked like he was trying not to laugh. You didn't know why, and you couldn't think straight at the moment.

"Wait, you guys are finally dating?" Changbin interjected, his brows furrowed.

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the girl. "Yeah. We're together."

You grabbed Felix's hand before anyone else could call you out on your bluff, leading him to a random room and closing the door behind you.

"So... I'm your boyfriend, huh?" Felix said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Shut up..." You murmured, embarrassed. He could tell by the look on your face that you were struggling internally.

"Hey," he said softly, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I'm just teasing you."

You sighed, trying to calm your racing heart. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have picked a fight for something as little as that, she can kiss you if she wants, it's not like we're together."

"It's okay, really," he reassured you in a soft tone. "She can't kiss me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm already taken." He said with a smile, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm the only one who gets to kiss those soft lips," you whispered out.

He looked surprised, and then he chuckled softly. "Is that so?"

You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

"Well, then..." He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, feather-light and barely a kiss.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Claim them," he whispered, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. He responded eagerly, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you close. The kiss was intense and desperate, full of pent-up desire. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting every inch, making you moan softly into the kiss.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands and tugging slightly. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the way he was gripping your waist was almost bruising.

When you broke apart, you were both panting. His gaze was intense, his pupils blown wide.

"Lix," you started, your voice shaky.

"What?"

"I... I'm sorry."

His brows furrowed, a confused look on his face. "For what?"

"This is so confusing, now" you started, your a tear swelling in your eye. "You're my best friend and... what are we doing? Why do I feel like this? Is this supposed to be casual?"

"You mean like how you were jealous of that girl? And how you're currently making out with me right now?" Felix said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You shot back, the words hitting you.

"It means that I love you," he confessed, the words coming out of his mouth quickly. "I'm in love with you, have been for a while, and I thought you were too."

You could hear your heartbeat, and it felt like the room was spinning.

"What?"

He smiled sadly, his eyes filled with emotion.

"But... I..." You didn't know what to say. Your feelings for him were clear, and yet you'd never let it click, you refused to.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, and tears were spilling down your cheeks.

"It's okay," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't expect you to feel the same way. I just wanted you to know."

"No, it's not okay," you cried, wiping away your tears. "I'm in love with you too."

His eyes widened, and his lips parted in surprise.

"I just didn't realize it until now. I was scared of admitting it to myself, but... I love you, Lix. I love you so much."

Felix's smile was like the sun, bright and warm, and it made your heart soar.

"I'm in love with you too," he said softly.

You couldn't help but laugh, tears still rolling down your cheeks. "I know"

He cupped your cheek and wiped away your tears, his gaze intense. "I'm going to kiss you again," he whispered.

"Okay," you smiled.

And he did.

His lips were soft and warm, and his kiss was filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. You could taste the salt of your tears on his lips, and you could feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

He pulled away after a few moments, and you couldn't help but sigh.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his eyes searching yours.

"Me? You're the beautiful one."

"No, you're the beautiful one," he said, shaking his head. "I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you."

You blushed, unable to hold his gaze.

"Hey," he said, lifting your chin with his finger. "I mean it. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Lix, you're the beautiful one," you said, smiling at him. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Your eyes, your smile, the way you laugh, the way you light up a room when you walk in. And your stupid freckles."

He laughed, shaking his head. "My freckles aren't stupid," he said, trying to sound offended.

"They're cute, and they make you even more beautiful," you said, scoffing. "Don't try to deny it."

He gave you a warm smile. "If you say so."

"I do," you said, feeling bold. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, enjoying the way he tasted.

He chuckled softly and pulled away, his eyes shining.

"So, was this casual? Or are you finally going to let me date you?"

"We've been dating since I confessed," you said, raising a brow.

"Then can we go on a real date? Where we dress up, go out to dinner, and then make out afterwards?"

"That's basically what we just did."

"But we only made out," he whined.

"Okay, okay, fine. We can go on a proper date."

He smiled and gave you another quick kiss.

"I'm going to spoil the fuck out of you," he said.

"Just spoil me? Or spoil me, and then fuck me?" You teased, trailing fingers down his chest.

"Is that an invitation?"

"Maybe it is," you smiled, your hands running back up his chest.

He groaned and buried his face in your neck, his hands rubbing at your waist. "Can we please leave now?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

pt 2 here <3

[hattiewritesalot]

Poison

Azriel x Reader

Summary: At an event hosted by High Lord Beron, Azriel's closest friend Y/N seems to be incredibly wasted. The only problem? Azriel knows that she doesn't get drunk. Ever.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, poison, vomiting, a drunk love confession, a bit of angst but it is all in all quite fluffy

A/N: So this may or may not be inspired by the scene in Wicked King where Cardan gets poisoned... enjoy!! :3

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Y/N is, as always, on high alert as she follows Rhys into the ballroom. Something combined with her dislike for social events and her lack of trust for the High Lord of Autumn meant her eyes and ears were everywhere, keeping constant watch over everything. Azriel’s large hand gently splays over her bare back, the rough fingers a gentle reminder that he’s there, and possibly to tell her to stop being so tense. She shoots a glare at her best friend, who responds with a badly-concealed smile.

She’s dressed in black, they all are, as is custom in the Night Court. Her dress is floor length, the black satin offering a nice hold around her figure, the neckline a low plunge, and the slit on her left side allowing her some freedom. The fabric is littered with silver threads and diamonds, meant to represent constellations, and also to match the sparkly heels on her feet. She looks pretty. She feels it.

A servant welcomes them warmly, almost immediately offering the group a drink of champagne, which she takes. Cassian snorts, and teases her for taking the only glass that the poor servant had, but she rolls her eyes and takes a sip.

She rarely drinks. She doesn’t like it. She’s seen enough of the boys’ drunk shenanigans to be put off it for a lifetime. She usually stays sober, if not tipsy, whenever they go to Rita’s, opting for escorting a stumbling Rhys back to Feyre rather than being the one stumbling.

But one drink won’t hurt. Not tonight. Tonight, she’ll need it.

The Inner Circle split up around the room, Azriel hot on Y/N’s trails, scarred fingers just barely tracing her bare shoulders. She sighs, leaning against a wall, him doing the same. “Time check?”

Azriel snorts. “You’re the one with the watch.”

She clicks her tongue, and checks the time, leaning back with a groan. “Two more hours of… this.”

“Always a ray of sunshine.”

“Says the shadowsinger.” she grins. Azriel was the first person she’d met in the Inner Circle, and coincidentally, her closest friend. They’d been attached at the hip the moment she’d introduced herself. They know everything about each other, inside and out. 

She’d never admit it, but her heart longed for the Illyrian. He was always so clever, so considerate. And, not to mention, his sharp features and hazel eyes made heat rise in her cheeks; hot, blissful, lovestruck heat.

“I think Cassian wants me for something.” Azriel muses, tipping his chin towards where Cassian was very unsubtly gesturing for him to accompany him. Y/N narrows her eyes at the redhead he’s standing with, and laughs. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that were Eris Vanserra. Good luck, Az.”

Azriel groans, playfully tugging her hair as he walks over to his brother.

All alone, now. She drinks her champagne, downing it almost immediately. She liked champagne. It never got you too drunk, never made you too irrational. “Enjoying the festivities, Y/N?” Beron’s voice purrs out from behind her. She forces a smile.

“I’d say yes, but it appears I’ve run out of champagne.” The High Lord cocks a brow at her words, and offers her another glass with a different, more vibrant liquid. “Try this. It’s exclusive to the Autumn Court. I believe you’ll enjoy it, it’s not too strong.”

She eyes the glass, before taking it, taking a sip. It’s a subtle flavour - fruity, slightly bitter. “Thank you, my lord.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he walks away. 

Cauldron, this drink is good. She drinks every last drop, and places it down on the table next to her, looking for a bottle of the same-

Oh. Oh. This is fun. Fun, fun, fun!

Why isn’t she having fun! Tonight is amazing!

An uncontrollable giggle tears from her throat, the sound throwing her off slightly as wave after wave of lucid dizziness hit her. She laughs, clutching her chest. This is so fun!

Where’s Azriel? Is he having fun? Oh, she loves him. Loves him so much. Where is he!?

-----------------------------------------------------------

Azriel cracks his neck, obviously not wanting to engage with the eldest son of the High Lord, who clearly would rather be anywhere else. Cassian is long gone, with the excuse of seeing Nesta, and now Azriel has been left to deal with Eris. This could not get any worse.

Until it does.

Y/N beams at him, tripping over her feet to get to him, stumbling as she slumps into his arms, snorting and giggling. He freezes. Eris chokes on a laugh. Her hands reach up to grab his face and tug at his hair.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, taken slightly off-guard by her strange behaviours.

“Azzy!” she squeals, laughing and kissing his cheek. Eris cocks a brow. “Looks like your little Y/N’s had too much to drink.” His words echo around Azriel’s head. No, that can’t be. Y/N doesn’t like drinking. And why would she get drunk here of all places? And why-

His heart sinks. Her pupils are dilated. Her body is trembling. Her skin is turning clammy. 

This isn’t alcohol. It’s poison. 

His eyes go wide as he pulls her form into his arms. “Y/N?” he mumbles, a little firmer now. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, silly!” she squeals. Eris laughs again, and Azriel’s head whips towards him. “What the fuck did you do to her!?” The eldest son’s eyes widen at his harsh, almost growling tone. 

“Me? I’ve done nothing. She’s just drunk, shadowsinger.” He sneers at him down his pointy nose. Azriel clutches Y/N closer, ignoring all of her babbles as she squishes his cheeks and tugs his dark locks like a child. 

“I love you!” she squeals. “I love you sooooo much. So much. I wish we were mates.” she slurs. Azriel takes a shaky breath at her words, and Eris gestures to her flailing form. “See? Drunk.”

“She’s not- she’s not drunk, she’s- fuck, where’s Rhys?” His tone is desperate as he searches for the High Lord. Y/N’s knees start to buckle, but he wraps her arms around her thighs. “Stay with me, sweetheart, you’re gonna be okay.” He manages to catch the attention of Rhys, whose eyes go wide at the sight of Y/N’s slumped form, and he rushes to them. “What-”

“She’s been poisoned.” Azriel chokes out, panic surging in his veins as he hugs his girl as tightly as he can to his chest. “We- we need to get her out.” Rhys takes a breath, and seems to send a message to Feyre, because she starts to round everyone up. “She’ll be okay, Az, just calm down-”

“I’m not going to calm down! She could die!” He snaps. Rhys backs off at the protective gaze in his brother’s eyes. “Get her back to the Night Court, I’ll sort out here.” Azriel hooks one arm under her knees and the other on her back as he closes his eyes, winnowing back to Velaris. 

She squirms, shoving herself onto the cold floor of the Moonstone Palace, and she pukes, gasping and gagging. He shushes her gently, his shadows swirling around her and stroking her hair back as she retches. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Get it all out.”

As she vomits, his mind can’t help but flick back to what she said in the Autumn Court. ‘I love you!’ ‘I wish we were mates.’ His heart flutters at the recollection, but he silently growls at it to shut up. She’s been poisoned. Her head isn’t right. She was probably just saying words for the fun of it. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it.

But still…

No, heart, stop it.

He pulls her up against his chest when she’s finished, gently rubbing her back. She sobs, slurring unintelligible words. He kisses her sweaty temple and carefully carries her up to her room, murmuring sweet nothings to keep her calm, but her body thrashes. Her eyes are rolling back. His hands are shaking. 

He just about manages to get her writhing form onto the bed when Rhys arrives, Madja hot on his trails. “She’s been poisoned?” she asks. Y/N screams in response. Rhys winces at the noise, but the expression worsens at the fury on Azriel’s face.

“Azriel-”

“Go on.” He growls. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t storm back in there and kill them all.”

“Because first of all, that’ll be a lot of paperwork for me, and second of all, I don’t think Y/N wants you to leave.”

Rhys is, frustratingly, right. Y/N has taken it upon herself to latch onto Azriel’s arm, clutching him and mumbling profusely, cheek squished against his bicep. He sighs, and gently pats her hair, shooting a glare to the High Lord of Night in the process.

He sits with her the entire time Madja treats her, his fingers tightly intertwined with hers. The healer concludes that she’ll be okay, but not without side-effects. She says he was clever to get her home so quickly. It wasn’t out of intelligence, it was out of fear.

She gives Y/N a sleeping draught, just so her aching body can get some rest, and then she leaves. Azriel stares at his best friend’s face, and figures he should do the same. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, smiles at her fluttering eyes, and moves to leave.

Standing in the doorway, however, his eyes flit back to hers, the hazel of his irises connecting with her soft hues.

And then he feels it.

Like a string pulled taut, it snaps within his chest, flooding his veins with the pure bliss of finally having something to protect, to care for, to love. It roars throughout his body, his heart burning with the golden flames of the bond.

Mate.

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PART TWO HERE!!

lol hmu I write for acotar now

[moonlight-prose]

dust to dust

a/n: i chose to combine two prompts from the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline. only because old and belt buckle just blended so well for me and the idea i had in my head. i know i've basically written a different version of this in my fic slow, but i've made this one a whole lot filthier. solely cause this is literally my dream scenario with this man.

logan promptober: day fifteen + day seventeen - belt buckle + old

summary: when the days are long and he's grown weary of everything, he knows he can find his peace in your body. that is until he brings a whole new understanding to the belt buckle that sits proudly on his waist.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, fluff, exhausted logan, dirty talk, dry humping, he's so filthy in this one, overstimulation, domesticity.

The temperature of his body was the first thing you sought out. His scuffed boots that had seen better days were discarded by the door—his flannel on a hook beside the heavy leather jacket. You heard him by the shuffle of his feet, the tinkling echo of keys hitting the glass bowl in the kitchen. A creak of the couch filtering through the bedroom door—his raspy groan followed right behind it.

There wasn't much that could pull you out of a book when you were settled in a comfy spot, but the sound of Logan coming home still grasped all of your attention. He called to you silently, his presence strong enough to fill the house with a staggering amount of warmth. As if this place, these walls, wouldn't be the same without him.

"Baby?"

He grunted, rubbing his thumb between his scarred knuckles. "'M here."

"Long day?"

The audible huff gave you enough of an answer to make your way over to him. The dark lines beneath his eyes did little to prevent your stomach from twisting in empathy. He worked too hard. Broke himself right down to the bone and yet refused to let you help when it really mattered. You were his pretty girl, the soft swell of love he came home to every night.

To mar your skin with exhaustion was something he refused to accept.

You simply longed to help him. Bear the brunt of his anguish with him, your hand tightly gripped in his. The walls he built were too high—a mountain that only seemed to grow with each new precipice of emotion he came across—but you were resistant. You would climb until your hands were bloody and raw; you'd dig your heels in and refuse to let go.

His face dug into your stomach, hands curling low around your waist.

Silence became the embodiment of your conversations when he fell into his own mind. You tangled your fingers in his hair, thumbs curving along the base of his neck. The drop in his shoulders as tension released made you smile—the flutter of your heart dropping to your stomach within seconds.

He didn't even have to look at you, yet he had you in the palm of his hand—wrapped tightly around his pinky finger where you belonged.

"What can I do?" you hummed, tugging at a particular chunk of hair that always followed with a raspy groan.

The calloused brush of his palm dragged down your hips, grasping the flesh of your ass to drag you even closer. His face now pressed an inch above your crotch - the sweatpants you wore doing nothing to hide the fact that you were completely bare beneath them. The slight hitch in his back told you he knew. By your scent alone; the slick forming between your legs was sweet in the air, begging for his tongue to bury into you.

"Lemme see her," he grunted, inhaling sharply against your hip. "She's callin' to me princess."

A rush of air escaped your lungs. "But don't you want–"

"To see what I waited all day for." His head rose, eyes peeking at you through drooped lids—a lazy smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

"You should rest."

"You callin' me old?"

Your hands froze on the back of his neck. "No. You just–"

Fingers curled into the waistband of your sweats, dipping down beneath the fabric to slide along your hip. What little breath you had left caught in your throat—the flutter in your stomach dropping to press right up against your clit. He caught onto the minimal reaction instantly. His hand moving to cup your drooling pussy.

"Nothing underneath," he muttered, wetting his bottom lip. "This all for your old man?"

"Logan," you sighed.

"You like that huh?" Pushing further, his chest stuttered at the hot pool of wetness that greeted him—your body practically purring with such a simple touch. "Knownin' you're fuckin' an old man. Makes you wet doesn't it?"

"Oh fuck–"

"There you go." A huff of laughter escaped his mouth at the way your eyes slid shut. "Dust to dust. One foot in the grave and you still want me to ruin ya."

Unable to even comprehend what he was muttering, you nodded aimlessly.

A harsh tug dropped your sweatpants to the ground, your legs clambering out of them in clumsy quick steps. You felt uncoordinated—untethered. And Logan drank it down like the greatest whiskey known to man. He pulled you close, helping you straddle his lap, to grab a glance down at your sticky folds glistening in the low light of the lamp to his right.

You spread your legs wide unconsciously, the need to please him choking your insides until you held no other option but to relent. Yet you did so willingly and without hesitation. The smile on his face became your sole reason for why you breathed—why you lived.

All for him.

"I bet you missed me." You nodded frantically, canting your hips up into his touch. Only to realize...he wasn't talking to you. He wasn't even looking at you.

His attention lay solely in your fluttering hole creaming for the heavy cock that grew hard between his legs. Starvation bled into his features—darkening his eyes as they dragged down the length of your body. He wanted to eat you, dine on the flesh of his lover with a smile, anticipating more than just your shouts of pleasure.

Oftentimes it scared him how much he longed for the touch of your skin, the warmth that seeped from your softness. He craved you, desired to know each intimate part that lay between the crevices of your bones. The gaps in your ribs encased around the heart that beat solely for him.

"Touch me," you sucked in a breath, chest heaving beneath your tank top.

He barely spared you a glance, his thumb stroking the edge of your cunt. "That's not what she wants."

"W-What–"

The lift was nearly effortless, barely forcing a soft grunt past his lips as he pulled you directly over his cock. The very bulge you were eyeing the second you saw him. He didn't bother to unbutton his jeans or give into the throbbing ache that grew unfathomably quick. You clambered to hold onto his shoulders—mouth searching for his in the hopes of gaining something in return.

"I want to kiss you." A whine spilled free, hips shifting in his tight hold.

"Hang on princess."

"What are you–" The slow drag of your hips along his cleared the words from your mind—a stuttered cry replacing any other sound that might have come to the surface.

Cold and hard was all you could comprehend as he pushed your body back to repeat the same move. His lips plastered with a knowing smile as your eyes rolled back—a low throaty moan ripping from your throat. The belt buckle sat directly beneath you. Covering the button of his jeans. You'd maneuvered your way around it before, barely giving any detail to what it looked like.

Now you felt every minute carving drag along your pulsing clit, stimulating you in a way that shoved you towards a blinding release. Logan's hands became pliant on your hips, giving you the freedom to move as you wished. You thanked him with a kiss.

"Feels good doesn't it?" His tongue slid into your mouth, swallowing down the choked sound that rushed to the surface. "Gettin' off on your old man's belt buckle."

"F-Fuck. It feels—oh god–"

"That's it. Keep goin' honey." Cupping your chin, he pressed his forehead to yours, the hot brush of his breath hitting your lips with each word. "Soak it for me, yeah? And I'll wear it to work tomorrow."

A soft pleading cry was all he got in return, your hips jerking frantically over his lap—a wave of slick coating the tarnished metal. And he laughed. Chuckled softly into a spit soaked kiss that left your mind reeling, lips chasing his for just a bit more.

"I'll drive around with it." His words burned your skin, seeping right down to the erratically beating heart that struggled to keep up. "I'll lick it fuckin' clean while I get off to the thought of ya princess. Me sitting alone in that fuckin' limo. Stroking my cock to your pretty face."

The image flashed neon in your mind and that was all you needed to fling yourself off that cliff. With trembling thighs you pressed your clit down hard onto the metal surface, coming undone with a broken shout muffled against his cheek. He talked you through it, mumbling small praises of good girl, did such a good job for me, makin' me feel good. into your skin punctuated by the brush of his lips.

"Feel good?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, sagging into his chest with a sated grin. He grinded his hip up into you, pain sparking up your body and forcing you away from him. "Sensitive."

His hand brushed down your back, slipping beneath your top to knead at your waist—a soothing rhythm pressed into your skin. A sigh escaped his lips as he settled deeper into the couch, clutching you closer than before. You knew where this would lead. How you'd wake up with him atop you on the couch, restricting you from movement.

That alone kept you from moving.

"Good day now baby?" Your words were whispered against his neck, your lips trailing down to his chest.

A small grin pulled at his lips - his thumb working a circle into your lower back. "Yeah honey. It's a good day now."

[juletheghoul]

primus

a/n: Something a little different, I am obsessed with General Marcus and the idea of him becoming a gladiator. Hope you enjoy this other world I want to live in lol, no beta and barely proofread!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, body / breast worship-Marcus gives it so right🤤, hand-stuff - female rec'g, taking of virginity, (reader is a slave so there is a power imbalance but so is Marcus), gladiatorial violence, nothing graphic- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 3.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

--

The crowd roars loud enough to deafen, the sound of it like a great wave threatening to wash you out to sea but it's nothing new, you’re used to it. The house you serve, have served since birth, has done well for itself in recent years, all thanks to one Gladiator.

Marcus Acacius, the champion of the house of Romulus. 

You’d seen him come in years ago and although you had been little more than a child, even then you could see what he had been reduced to, disgraced and defeated and practically at death's door. He had fought though, Gods knew he had fought. And just as you grew and flowered into a woman, he honed his skills anew, won matches throughout the city and had transformed from the disgraced General of Rome, to a true champion of the people. 

You could see it even now, watching him make quick work of the paltry opponents sent to fight him in the arena. He swatted them away like troublesome flies, and the crowd loved him for it. The cup was held out to you, just as the man in the sand raised his sword. 

“He really is of a form.” One of the hosts of the games remarked about the man fighting below, and your Domina smiled proudly. 

“My husband has taken him and honed him, I dare say none in Rome are his equal.” 

“We shall have to see about that.” The guest chuckled, not quite convinced but your Dominus laughed, unperturbed and unconvinced.

“My wife speaks truth, my Ludus has shaped him into a God of the arena.” 

They continued their friendly bickering, while you watched the man below, you couldn’t deny his allure despite being more than a few years older than you. He looked up to the pulvanis and saluted to his Dominus, to his Domina, and for a heartbeat it felt as though his eyes locked with yours. 

Lightning struck in your belly, the intensity of his gaze, even so briefly made your heart race. Ghostly fingers squeezed at your heart when the opponents fell on him, cornering him until he was surrounded. Attention locked on him despite your station, the laughs and doubts of his victory wreathing through the guests you served turned your stomach.

Deaths in the arena were a guarantee, that was to be sure. Every time your Dominus secured spots for his gladiators in the games it was expected that not all would return, this felt different though. He had to survive, why, you could not be sure.

“Aha! There we are. The legend of him is proved. He is victorious, and my wife’s words are true, as always.” Your Dominus smiles, kissing his wife’s hand as the doubters grumble about luck and ill-trained opponents. 

The words flow over you, the only thing that draws your attention is the man standing below you, victorious and whole.

–

“The good wine, fetch it for me girl.” The sun shines through the balcony as your Dominus congratulates the gladiators who returned to the villa victorious. His wife, your Domina, sends you for the wine while he speaks at length of their virtues, stoking the fire of survival and vanity in them.

In truth the games hold no interest for you, never had you particularly enjoyed watching men fight to the death, it was a waste and had you the choice, you would never attend another.

They cheer louder than before when you return with the heavy jug, narrowly avoiding dropping it when he turns and catches your eye once more. Marcus has been invited out of the ludus below, and up into the main house. 

He is much bigger than you expect. Tall and broad enough to intimidate anyone but the most surprising thing are his eyes, they are the softest thing about him.

“I would reward you, for your victory, for the honour and wealth you have brought to this house. Name your desire and I shall see it done.” 

You pour for your Domina, ears straining to hear his voice.

“You honour me Dominus.” It’s so rich, deep and full of smoke. Your main focus is on not spilling the wine.

“I confess, I have felt a desire of late.” Your ears perk up, eyes following suit and when they meet his, they’re already set upon your face.

“You want her?” Your Dominus looks to you now as well, and you feel like a piece upon someone else’s board, to be moved around at their will.

“Only if she desires me as well.” He bows his head, and despite the tiny bloom of gratitude in your chest, your Dominus laughs.

“If she is what you desire, take her. The guards will lead you to the private quarters below and you may keep her there until the morning. I will have wine and a meal brought for the both of you.” Your Dominus waves a hand and it is done. Your virtue has been gifted to a Gladiator. 

Your Domina frowns, but says nothing. She merely watches as you are led away, to spend the night with the former General of Rome.

-

The quarters are indeed private, but meagre. A lumpy bed, a small table with two chairs, an even smaller table with a large basin full of fresh water and clean linen, and a window. The door closes and your heart jumps into your throat.

“Shall I disrobe and lay on the bed?” You reach for the hem of the tunic, silently praying that he would not be too rough. The prudent thing to do, is to get it over with. 

“No, wait-“ his hand engulfed yours, stopping you from reaching down and pulling off the fabric that hides your nakedness from him.

“I would speak a while, come.” He gestures to the table and you frown.

“Do you not desire my virtue? Is that not why you asked for me?” 

“Yes, well, in truth I desire your company, as well as your body. I have noticed you of late, you have grown into a beautiful woman and I find my thoughts drifting to you often. Of your voice and of your touch. I dream about you.”

Your eyes widen, shocked into silence by his confession.

“I would have you enjoy our coupling, rather than simply enduring it.” His eyes dart away from your form when the guards bring a platter laden with food and drink, and when he gestures again, you finally sit.

He takes his time cleansing himself of the grit and grime of the arena, scrubbing away until a handsome, lined face appears underneath. Once clean, and armor free he sits with you, and urges you to eat.

It is a silent, slightly tense meal. Your fraying nerves had you mostly picking at the fruit and cured meats. The flutter in your belly kept you from overfilling it. 

“How long have you served in this house?” His eyes are bright, curious.

“All my life. I was born in this house.” Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your tunic. 

“Are you treated well?”

“I mostly tend to the Domina, she is very kind.” Your eyes drift to the bed, and the bottom of your belly falls again to imagine what he’ll ask of you once his own belly is full. 

“You spoke of your virtue, you are as of yet untouched?” His voice lowers, almost apologetic. 

“Yes. Well, untouched by anyone, except myself. There have been covert kisses here and there, friendly ones with others of my station.” He says nothing, but his gaze travels the expanse of your body. The slide of them is heavy from your breasts down to the slit in your tunic. His food sits forgotten on the small plate in front of him, and now there is hunger of a different kind on his handsome face. 

“Do you find me desirable?” He leans back in his chair, broad and golden from the sun. Heat blooms in your chest, filling the corners of you. 

“You are kind upon the eyes, I will not lie.” He smiles at this, and the heat spreads to the place between your legs, the place he will fill soon and a shudder travels along your spine.

“Have you enjoyed my victories in the arena?” 

“I confess, I do not favour the games. Watching men kill each other holds no interest for me.” He laughs, surprised yet delighted. 

“And yet you live and serve in a ludus, watching gladiators come and go your whole life.” 

“The Gods have their reasons, I do not presume to question my place.” You shrug, unable to stop the corners of your lips from pulling up into a shy smile. 

“Perhaps it is I who is blessed to end up here, in your company.” He muses and for a moment you cannot face his direct stare. “Come, lovely one. Let us to bed.” He rises, holding out his hand for you, It engulfs yours when you accept and join him. 

Butterflies swarm as he guides you to the edge of the bed, the fine hairs all over your arms and legs standing on end when those rough, calloused palms skate softly over the curve of your shoulders. His breath fans over your face as he reaches the bottom of your tunic, pulling it up and off. The urge to bring your arms up over your breasts, to reach down and cup your sex makes your hands shake. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” His hands settle on your hips, squeezing at the flesh for a moment before removing his own layers. The sight of him, naked as you, with his heavy sex hardening before your eyes makes you shiver, part nervous, part exhilarated. 

When he lays you down, you part your thighs to make space for him, once again praying the pain won’t be unbearable. The confusion paints your face in a frown as he lays beside you, and not directly on you. 

“I would have you wet for me before I slip inside.” His tone, his words send another shiver down your spine before he presses his mouth to yours. 

You have kissed before, a soft press of your lips to another, the barest taste of their tongue between rebellious giggles in the dark. Marcus’ kiss is nothing like that. He pulls you close, turning your body to press it to his, the stiff peaks of your breasts meeting the solid wall of his chest as his tongue slips past your open mouth and tangles with your own. For a moment, it is a little awkward but he guides you, pulling away before pressing forward again, leading you in his rhythm. 

Your heart races, a curious excitement pooling low in your gut, in the yet untouched place between your thighs. You press them together while he claims your mouth. 

When he pulls away, his breath comes out in pants and his sex presses hot and heavy against your belly. 

“Lay on your back my sweet.” He kisses your shoulder, and you obey. Now, you think, now he will shove that thing inside me and rip me in half. You swallow thickly at the thought, it is so much thicker now, too big, surely. 

He presses kisses to your shoulder, trailing them down to your arm, then the side of your breast before he pulls your nipple into his mouth. The steady suck of his mouth at the hardened peak forms a direct line to your cunt, the ache in it pulling a whimper from your mouth and a huff of self-satisfied laughter from him. Your skin is shiny with his spit when he lets it go. 

“Does that feel good?” His hand holds the plump of your breast, tongue flicking against the peak while you nod, mouth-open in a silent stare. “What do you feel?” He sucks at it again, harder this time and a gasp leaves your mouth. 

“I feel, hot. Warm all over, and an ache–” You pull in a sharp breath when his teeth pull teasingly at the bud. He soothes with his tongue, pink-cheeked and focused. 

“Where do you ache?” He lets go, smoothing his palm in the valley between before holding the other one, and worshiping it just the same. 

“I ache–oh, I ache–” It’s hard to focus when he sucks at the other nipple, your thighs pressing together without your permission. He stops, eyes flitting about your face.

“Where do you ache, tell me.” 

“I ache here.” He follows your hand as it cups your cunt, the soft, fine hair there soaked in arousal like you have never known. He groans to see it, and then his hand pushes yours away, slipping between your thighs to pull them apart. He leans on his elbow, muscles glinting in the soft candle light as his fingers spread open the lips of your sex, exposing your dark pink insides to his gaze. 

“Your pretty little cunt is so much better than I dreamed, spread your legs for me my sweet, I would work her open to take my cock.” Your heart races, your cunt clenches and then his fingers find the crux of you. They swirl slowly around the pert, sensitive pearl of your clit. Your mouth drops open in a silent ‘O’ at the way he manipulates you. 

“So wet already.” He lowers his head, lips wrapping around a nipple again as he keeps his slow, maddening circuit. Your hands grip the threadbare linen beneath you, whole body clenching as he shoves you closer and closer to a shattering climax with his slow, delicious circles. 

“Doesn’t that feel good? Doesn’t that feel so good, my sweet?” He presses his lips to your neck, whispering into your ear and you nod, frantically, clenching around nothing while the edges of everything blur with the threat of pleasure. Around, and around, and around he swirls, consistent, devastating until you can almost taste it. 

Your mouth forms a steady chant of yes, yes, yes, as he continues his gentle exploration between your legs, fat pearly drops of his own arousal slipping against your hip but he is in no hurry. 

The ache intensifies, the slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, and it's with a final, wet swirl that your climax washes over you. Your legs clamp shut around his hand, your body folds in on itself with the strength of it but it does not stop him, two thick fingers spear into your fluttering entrance, stretching and drawing out the pleasure of it while you gasp into his kiss. 

“Gods above.” You whisper to yourself as the blood pounds in your ears, the warmth of his skin, the slick, rhythmic sound of his fingers working away between your legs stoking the fire once more. 

“I could spill just watching you.” He pulls his fingers out, dripping in your lust and shoves them into his mouth. “Sweet as summer wine.” He licks them clean, vulgar and sweet all at once. 

Again he reaches between your legs, slipping his fingers inside once more but with his thumb swirling around the crux of you. 

He brings you to climax again, more intense with his fingers inside, petting at a divine spot you’ve never touched, and again, he doesn’t stop. He repeats his movements, his tongue flicking at your nipple, or licking into your mouth, until it’s too much and you push his hand away. 

“Please, no more–I cannot.” You gasp for breath, skin shiny with sweat, the spot beneath you wet where your arousal has dripped down and soaked through the linen. 

He laughs softly, proud and cocky at how many times he made you fall apart under his hand. 

“If you would let me, I would do that for days.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder before moving up and settling between your thighs. The nervous flutter intensifies as his cock slips between the mess he’s made of your sex. 

“I think you are open enough to take me now, I will try to go slow.” He kneels back on his haunches, lifting one leg up to hold. His fingers curl around the top of your knee, your calf resting on his shoulder as he grips his cock in the other hand.

Your belly trembles, part embarrassed, part excited to be so exposed to his gaze. The blunt end of it slides through your swollen folds, coated in your slick before he notches it and it’s with a slight burn that he slips it in. Inch by inch he presses forward, molding you to accept him, shaping you to fit him like a glove. 

“Gods above.” He curses low as he bottoms out, so deep you feel him in your lungs. 

Your hands ache from how tightly they grip at the fabric beneath you. 

With a shuddering breath he holds himself still, allowing you a moment to get used to the intrusion of him, only a moment. 

A sharp thrust pulls a gasp from your lips. His grip on your leg tightens, the other hand slides up and holds onto your hip, steadying you to accept the snapping of his hips. 

The flex in his arms, the strong, firm muscles of his thighs pressed up against yours, the sheen of sweat glinting on his face and on his chest, all of it only makes it better, his beauty and his obvious desire for you serve to make you leak around him. You can feel it, dripping down your ass to add to the damp spot beneath you, it collects at the base of him too, drenching the curls there.

Your pants, his heavy breathing, and the vulgar sound of his skin slapping against yours is the song of your coupling. The burn is replaced with a pleasant feeling of fullness. It is not as good as his fingers at your clit but his obvious pleasure adds to your own. 

“I’m going to come, going to fuck it deep inside of you.” Sweat drips down his nose and the vision of him, so like when he’s in the arena might push you closer to another climax. 

“Here it comes–” He presses your legs up, opening them wider, folding you in half while he fucks into you hard enough to make the bed shake. With a low groan, and a thrust deep enough to hurt, he swells impossibly thicker for a moment before emptying himself inside you. 

He shudders, grinding himself deeper as you wince, milking himself inside your body before pulling out and falling onto the bed beside you. 

You catch your breath for a moment. Surprised, and grateful that despite there being the edge of violence to his taking you, it wasn’t the brutal, awful experience you were afraid it would be. Considering your station in life, it was quite nice. 

“Give me a little while, and I will be ready to take you again.” He turns and presses his lips to your shoulder again. 

“Again…? You wish to take me again?” There is clear confusion threaded through your voice, but he laughs, goodnaturedly. 

“Oh yes, I have you for this one night, I plan on taking advantage. Did you not enjoy it?” He rests on his elbow, head held in his palm while his other hand skates over your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake as it palms one breast, then the other. 

“I enjoyed your fingers, you brought me to climax more than I ever have on my own in a single night.” You curl onto your side towards him, soaking up the warmth of his skin. 

“But you did not enjoy my cock?” His hand lands on your hip, holding you there and it’s curiously exciting how much skin he can touch at once. 

“It was… a lot.” He laughs, nodding for you to continue. “I liked the fullness of it, but you were very deep. I could feel you in my belly and when you spilled it was intense.” He lets out a groan before pressing forward and stealing another kiss. 

“It will feel better, we have to find which position you like best. Which angle you enjoy more.” He pulls you closer, tilting your chin up for another kiss, softer this time. 

“What position do you enjoy most of all?” Your hands gravitate to his chest, pressing against it to feel his heart thumping against your palm. 

“I am partial to being ridden.” He smiles, lip caught between teeth and heat floods your body to know he is imagining it. 

“Why do you favour it?” 

“Because I like when a woman takes her pleasure from me, It pleases me, to please her.” You could see it then, his soft eyes staring up in devotion as some faceless woman rides his cock. The longer you think on it, the more that faceless woman starts to resemble you. 

“I would have you like that next.” He smiles, and you smile back, nodding. 

By the time the sun rises, he has taken you every way you can imagine and your sex is so sore you don’t think you’ll be able to walk without wincing. 

When the guards come to take you both back to your respective places, they have to physically pull him away from you, his lips pressed against yours in a goodbye kiss. 

“You are the only prize I will ever ask for.” He calls over his shoulder as you smile at him.

For the first time in your life, you are excited about the next games.

-

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name

[hoseoksluna]

SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it. 

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube. 

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too. 

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it. 

He doesn’t think you could. 

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts. 

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it. 

You don’t say anything. 

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately. 

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery. 

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly. 

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head. 

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting. 

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.” 

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view. 

Hobi. 

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air. 

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back. 

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you. 

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery. 

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red. 

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage. 

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way. 

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one. 

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him—needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you. 

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched. 

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead. 

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip. 

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.” 

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel. 

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name. 

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room. 

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.” 

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin. 

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else. 

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add. 

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away. 

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all. 

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands. 

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely. 

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again. 

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.” 

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness. 

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.” 

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod. 

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled. 

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light. 

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty. 

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot. 

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.” 

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest  and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin. 

His heart jumps. 

“I didn’t catch that, baby.” 

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.” 

Your words tell him a lot of things. 

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home. 

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are. 

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it. 

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.” 

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters. 

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.” 

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes. 

“Make me forget about tonight, please.” 

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you. 

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling. 

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb. 

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can. 

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.” 

“Let’s go.” 

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay. 

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night. 

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit. 

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body. 

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care. 

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you. 

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you. 

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles. 

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.” 

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit. 

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity. 

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy. 

“Oh my god.” 

Serves you fucking right. 

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.” 

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?” 

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.” 

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens. 

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires. 

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.” 

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes. 

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked. 

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes. 

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over. 

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside. 

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.” 

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more. 

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.” 

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten. 

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough. 

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette. 

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine. 

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.” 

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you. 

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.” 

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before. 

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates. 

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty. 

Wants you to get used to it. 

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching. 

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you. 

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance. 

When he penetrates you there, you scream. 

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again. 

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do. 

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want. 

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm. 

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same. 

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart. 

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now. 

Tears well up in his eyes. 

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy. 

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is. 

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out. 

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it. 

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in. 

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.” 

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted. 

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled. 

A dream come true. A desire gratified. 

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you. 

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much. 

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.” 

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?” 

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair. 

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.” 

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.” 

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore. 

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?” 

“Fast.” 

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.” 

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes. 

One person. One mind, one heart. 

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good. 

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop fucking you. 

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?” 

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies. 

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you. 

Gives you all of his cock. 

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you. 

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?” 

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy. 

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?” 

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it. 

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs. 

“No, feels good.” 

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?” 

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair. 

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe. 

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.” 

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too. 

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead. 

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off. 

He pounds into you. 

You’re no longer smiling. 

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard. 

Merciless. 

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone. 

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you. 

Who is he to say no to you? 

“You just want it bad, don’t you?” 

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him. 

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.” 

The air grows dense. 

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time��pumping you full. Giving you all that he has. 

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned. 

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum. 

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning. 

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you. 

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?” 

You sound just like him. 

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down. 

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in. 

With a barrier in between. 

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

[jyoongim]

i came across this reel and my immediate thought was "lucifer finding out alastor wanted to date his daughter" (not charlie ofcccc)

Morningstar!Reader x Alastor

>i switched it up a bit so it’ll be Lucidaddy finding out Alastor is dating his baby<

————————————————————————————-

“Just play it cool sis. Its just dad” you tried to reassure your sister, Charlie who was sweating profusely. You grabbed her hand and gave her a smile which made the older girl calm down a bit.

”Youre right! Its just dad…hahaha”

Vaggie had suggested that since the hotel wasn’t going like planned that Charlie should call y’all father. 

Who just happened to be the King of Hell itself.

Charlie shot it down, but you knew that your dad could help relieve some of the stress off the both of you.

So you had everyone in the hotel cleanup and promise they would be on their best behavior.

especially your boyfriend.

”Just be your charming self without the sarcasm please” You pouted up at the tall demon, who sported a smile as he hummed in acknowledgment at your words.

You were nervous to introduce Alastor to your father. You didn’t really have much experience with dating and the relationship between the two of you was as good as it was between him and your sister (slightly better because you’re his baby). You just wanted everything to be smooth enough to slip that you were dating someone.

Surely nothing could go wrong right?

————————————���—————————

“Hi dad wel-OH!” Charlie wheezed as Lucifer pulled her into a big hug, squeezing the air out her lungs

”Charlieeee!” He gushed before his eyes caught yours.

You tried to avoid the bone-crushing hug, but your father was too fast; pulling you in as well.

”Oooh my girls how I’ve missed you!”

You missed how Alastor’s eye twitched.

You and Charlie squirmed out of his grasp, trying to regain your composures as you sucked air back into your lungs.

Charlie cleared her throat “Dad welcome to the Hazbin Hotel” she gave a wobbly smile as she showed the last minute decorated lobby.

She introduced all the residents so far and just as she was continue showing him around, Lucifer looked at the bar

”Oh! What in the unholy hell is that?” He looked to you

”babygirl tell me you didn’t approve of that?”

Before you could say anything, Alastor manifested by your side.

”I thought it adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” His smile was big, showing off his teeth.

Your dad grimaced, looking from Charlie to you to Alastor “who-who what are you the bellhop?” he asked.

Alastor laughed “haha! Oh no! I am the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard my radio broadcast?”

Lucifer deadpanned “nope. Maybe that’s why the girls call it the ‘Hazbin hotel ahaha”

you and Charlie winced.

Alastor narrowed his eyes “It was actually my idea.”

”Oh? Well it wasn’t every clever” Lucifer challenged, making Alastor bend to his level ”Ahaha Fuck you” Alastor hissed.

You and Charlie got between the two, you frowning at Alastor, slapping his chest, while Charlie tried to distract dad.

”OoohOk! Dad Alastor here has been a big help.” She said trying to paint the Overlord in a more positive light. She looked at you as if to help plead her case.

”She’s right dad” you said with a smile “Without Alastor I don’t know how we would have gotten this far” you looked at the red demon smiling “he’s been good to us”

That was true. You have no idea where the hotel would be without Alastor’s help.

“These two lovely ladies have such optimistic hearts. I am more than happy to fulfill any desire they have” Alastor said, smiling down at you, wrapping an arm around you, pulling into his side.

Your father narrowed his eyes at the actions and growled lowly.

”uuuh huuuhh. Well-” he slapped Alastor’s arm with his cane and guided you and Charlie to the other guests to be introduced.

”how about you introduce me to your OTHER friends?”

When Charlie introduced Vaggie, you felt your stomach ball in a knot. “Oh you like girls THANK goodness!ahaha” Lucifer’s eyes caught yours, a nervous smile of his face “don’t tell me my baby is in a relationship as well?” Oh what a hopeful look he had.

You looked at Charlie, who gave you an encouraging nod, you cleared your throat, straightening up

”o-oh well about that…” you nervously laughed, looking down as you wring your hands.

A large hand grabbed yours to ease your nervous antic, and instead intertwined your fingers together. You look up to see Alastor standing behind you and bringing your interlocked hands to his lips and press them to the back of your hand. He smiled at you softly as he wrapped his other arm around you.

You looked over to see the King of Hell looking like he’s going to be sick. 

“Dad…Alastor isn’t just the host of the hotel…he’s also my boyfriend” you said smiling at your dad.

Lucifer went to say something, but your sister stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder “Dad she’s happy and i know Alastor looks like he’s up to no good which most of the time he isn’t   But he actually makes her really happy. Look”

The short king watched as the tall red demon gave you a squeeze, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead and nuzzle you. He saw how Alastor looked at you with complete devotion, while you looked at him with love in your eyes.

He sighed, bringing your attention back to him. He held out his hand, a tight smile on his face “nice to meet you”

Alastor grinned and shook his hand…before wiping it like it was the most repulsive thing “pleasure to meet you sir!”

You sighed a breath of relief. That wasn’t so bad.

”Tell me…you haven’t slept with my daughter have you?”

”DAD!”

”DAD!”

”what?! I can ask that!?”

”Your youngest has an insatiable sexual appetite”

”AL!”

”SAY WHAT!?”

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Serving Up Some Chemistry | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Youtuber!Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: A quirky YouTube host invites rising stars Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri for a BBQ episode in honor of the Austin GP. Amidst hilarious banter and messy sauce spills, she and Oscar discover an unexpectedly adorable connection.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

check out my other works: Masterlist

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Surprise! 🚨 In honour of the Austin GP, we’ve got a special episode coming your way featuring none other than Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri! 🤠🍖

We’ll be trying some Texas BBQ and answering your questions—so drop them below! 👇 Let’s see if Oscar can handle the heat and if Lando can manage not to spill sauce on everything. 😆

Comments:

landonorris:

Can’t wait! Hoping I won’t embarrass myself too much. 😅

oscarpiastri:

Super excited for this! BBQ and questions? Sounds like a great time!

user1:

This is going to be epic! Can’t wait to see Lando and Oscar together!

user2:

OMG, the BBQ challenge is going to be hilarious! 😂

user3:

I’m ready for all the chaos that’s about to unfold!

user4:

Y/N, you’re going to have the best time! Can’t wait for this episode!

user5:

Excited to see how Oscar handles the heat! He better be ready!

user6:

Lando’s going to spill sauce everywhere, I can feel it! 😂

user7:

This is the best surprise ever! Bring on the BBQ!

user8:

The chemistry is going to be so fun to watch!

user9:

I just know this is going to be a classic episode!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

The episode is finally OUT! 🎉 Had the best time with landonorris and oscarpiastri—thank you both for being such great sports and handling the BBQ challenge like pros! 🤠🍖

Hope you all enjoy watching it as much as we enjoyed making it! Check it out on the channel now. 🙌

Comments:

oscarpiastri:

Had a great time! Thanks for having us, I’ll definitely be ready for round two. Maybe with less BBQ sauce next time? 😅

landonorris:

It was a blast! I’m still recovering from the sauce overload, but we’ll be back for sure! I’ll even bring an extra shirt 😂

user10:

They need to come back! That was the best thing I’ve ever watched!

user11:

The way Oscar was smiling the whole time—he’s definitely down for round two!

user12:

Lando being the messiest eater while Oscar just tries to survive? ICONIC.

user13:

The episode was pure gold! You three had the best energy!

user14:

Lando’s laugh is contagious! I was cracking up the whole time! 😂

user15:

Oscar was a whole mood trying to keep it together while eating BBQ! I need more of this trio ASAP!

user16:

The chaos, the laughs, the flirting—it was EVERYTHING! 😍

user17:

OMG, Oscar looked like he was about to faint when he first saw yourusername! He was so smitten. 😍

user18:

I can’t with how Oscar turned bright red when yourusername wiped the BBQ sauce off his chin! That was the cutest moment ever! 

user19:

Lando’s commentary had me in stitches! “Oscar, try not to drown in her eyes while you eat!” 😂

user20:

Their chemistry was insane! Every awkward pause just made it more adorable. I can't stop replaying it in my head!

user21:

“Can I get a little help with this sauce?” — Oscar was serving vulnerable and I am HERE for it! So smooth, Oscar! 😏

user22:

Lando saying, “Don’t get lost in her eyes while you’re eating, or I’ll have to save you,” was the best! He’s such a mess! 😂

user23:

The way Oscar shyly laughed at yourusername’s comments made my heart do flips! Can they just date already?

user24:

Their little glances and smiles were everything! I felt like I was watching a cute love story unfold right in front of me!

user25:

When yourusername asked, “Do you usually bring this much heat to a BBQ?” I was like, “Okay, that was smooth!” Oscar was totally flustered!

user26:

Honestly, the way they interacted was pure magic. They could literally sell me anything with that energy!

user27:

Lando is just a whole mood, trying to get Oscar to spill his secrets while keeping it light and funny! This was chaotic perfection!

user28:

I’m still thinking about how cute they were. Oscar’s shy reactions paired with yourusername’s playful teasing were too much to handle!

user29:

This episode was everything! I can’t stop thinking about how sweet their interactions were. I need more!

user30:

Their little glances and soft smiles were everything. Oscar’s flustered reactions were so endearing. ❤️

user31:

I can’t believe how much fun that was to watch! Lando being a mess and Oscar being adorable? What a combo!

user32:

I need behind-the-scenes footage ASAP! Their interactions were too cute to miss!

user33:

This episode was a masterpiece. Their dynamic felt so genuine. I need more content of Oscar and yourusername together!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Race day vibes! 🏎️💨 Thrilled to be at the Austin Grand Prix and feel the energy in the air! Can’t wait to see Lando and Oscar out on the track today! Let’s go, papaya boys! 🍊🏁

Comments:

landonorris:

Let’s go! Can’t wait to see you there! 🏁

oscarpiastri:

Excited to have you cheering us on! Let’s make it a day to remember! 😄

user34:

Okay, but wearing his number and posing in his car? Is this a thing now?

user35:

I’m not saying you’re dating, but I’m not NOT saying it either! The signs are all there!

user36:

She’s literally living the dream! Can we talk about how adorable they’d be together?

user37:

Her rocking the 81 cap is giving major “I’m totally rooting for my crush” energy!

user38:

They better have some cute moments on the track today! I need content!

user39:

If she doesn’t end up dating Oscar after this, I’m going to be seriously disappointed. 😩

user40:

I see the chemistry, and I’m here for it! Can we get some couple content, please?

user41:

I bet Oscar’s heart is racing just as fast as the cars right now!

user42:

Can we please get some updates on this? I’m invested!

user43:

If they don’t end up together after this GP, I’m throwing a fit! The chemistry is undeniable!

user44:

I’m shipping them so hard right now! Someone make it happen!

user45:

All I’m saying is if I was in her position, I’d definitely be flirting with Oscar!

user46:

Wait, is she wearing Oscar’s number? 🤔👀 Something’s brewing here!

user4:

If they don’t end up together after this, I’m throwing hands! They’re practically destined to be!

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Nothing going on, just a shit ton of editing! 🎬✨ Can’t wait for you all to see the latest episode—it’s a tell-all with some juicy insights you won’t want to miss! Stay tuned! 🙌

Comments:

landonorris:

Oscar’s been whining about the new episode for days now. 😂 You’d think it’s his favorite show!

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I wasn’t whining! I was… politely asking. 😅

 ↪yourusername:

Oh really? I had no idea you were such a fan. I’ll try to make this episode extra special for you. 😉

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I already know it’ll be perfect, especially with your editing skills. 😄

 ↪charles_leclerc:

Oscar, you seem a little too excited about this episode. 😏

 ↪georgerussell63:

He's definitely excited. I’ve never seen someone so eager for an episode! 😂

user48:

Their banter is so cute! I can’t get over how sweet they are! 🥹💕

user49:

Oscar acting all shy is everything! They definitely have something special!

user50:

The way Y/n teases him? Major couple vibes! 😍

user51:

Lando just casually exposing Oscar's crush on Y/n is iconic!

user52:

I’m here for all the fluffy interactions! They need to get together already!

user53:

I can’t be the only one who sees the heart eyes Oscar has for her, right?

user54:

Oscar trying to play it cool but failing is the cutest thing ever!

user55:

The way Oscar and Y/n interact is giving me life! They are too cute! 😍

user56:

Oscar whining for the episode?? Yeah, they’re definitely crushing on each other.

user57:

The subtle flirting though?? I am obsessed. 🥺

user58:

They’re adorable! This is what I live for! Oscar is so soft when it comes to her! 💖

user59:

If they’re not dating after this, I’m going to be devastated. The chemistry is unreal!

user60:

Oscar’s got heart eyes for her, 100%! I’m here for the rom-com energy! 🍿

Instagram Post by oscarpiastri:

Not exactly the result we wanted today, but the team worked hard and I’m proud of the effort we put in. We’ll come back stronger next race. 💪 Thanks for all the support as always! Onwards and upwards. ✌️

Comments:

user61:

Oscar really thought he could sneak in that last photo like we wouldn’t notice… boy, we SEE you! 👀

user62:

Hold up. That last picture. Who’s holding your hand, sir? We need answers. 😳

user63:

Forget the race, who’s the mystery girl?! Man’s out here soft-launching a whole relationship!

user64:

Oscar: “We’ll get 'em next race!”

Also Oscar: casually holding hands with someone and trying to act like it’s no big deal. 🧐

user65:

You really thought we wouldn’t zoom in on that third photo? The fandom is about to explode!

user66:

Me pretending to care about race results while I’m over here like 👁️👄👁️ over that hand-holding pic.

user67:

Okay, but real talk… is that Y/n? Because I’m about to lose it if it is!

user68:

Oscar: "Tough race."

Everyone: "YEAH BUT WHO’S THE GIRL?"

user69:

Man, not you sneaking in a whole mystery date at the end. My detective skills are about to activate. 🔍

user70:

Is this Oscar’s way of lowkey announcing a relationship, or are we all collectively losing our minds?

user71:

Bro, you can’t just drop this and walk away like we’re not going to dissect every pixel of that picture. 😂

user72:

If that’s Y/n holding his hand, I’m officially shipping this HARD. 😍

user73:

Is that… Y/n?? Did Oscar just soft launch a relationship?? 😳

user74:

Me: focusing on the race results

Also me: WHO is he holding hands with?!

user75:

Nah, Oscar, you can't just sneak in a soft launch and think we wouldn’t notice! 😭

user76:

This race was cool and all, but let’s focus on what really matters. Oscar’s got a GIRL?!

user77:

Whoever is holding Oscar's hand, I hope she knows how lucky she is. But also... IS IT Y/N?! 🥺

Instagram Post by formula1gossip:

Spotted in the paddock! 👀 Looks like Oscar Piastri and YouTuber/host yourusername are more than just friends—caught sharing a kiss! 💋 Could this be the F1 romance we didn’t see coming? Fans, what are your thoughts? Is this the grid's new power couple? 🔥

Comments:

user78:

OH MY GOD I WASN’T READY FOR THIS TODAY!! 😱😍

user79:

STOP. OSCAR AND Y/N ARE ACTUALLY A THING?!? THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! 🚨🚨🚨

user80:

I knew it! I KNEW IT. The way he’s been looking at her in every interview was a dead giveaway. 🥲

user81:

This is so cute but also low-key creepy? Like, let them have their privacy. 😬

user82:

Nah, this was not on my 2024 F1 Bingo card but I’m HERE for it!! Oscar really said, “plot twist.” 🥵

user83:

Forget the race drama, THIS is what we’re all here for. 😂

user84:

I don’t know if I should be happy for them or freak out that the internet is creeping on their private moment. 😳

user85:

Okay but... am I the only one who feels kinda bad for them? Let them live! 😕

user86:

Man really went from “awkwardly flirting” to “straight-up kissing in the paddock.” Piastri’s got game! 💀

user87:

I need to know WHO took this picture because they deserve a raise for breaking the internet. 😭

user88:

Wait, Oscar really went from sneaky hand-holding to THIS?! Boy moves fast! 🤯

user89:

Okay, but if this is real, Oscar and Y/n are the cutest thing to happen to F1 since... well, ever. 😍

user90:

I’m dying at the fact that Oscar was so shy and now he’s out here making public moves. My heart can’t take it!! 🥺

user91:

This is cute and all, but also kinda invasive? Give them some space, people! 😕

user92:

How do I go from “aww, so cute” to “this is kind of a privacy issue” in one second? 😅

user93:

The way Oscar went from 0 to 100 real quick. Y/n must’ve unlocked his final form or something. 😏

user94:

Did we just collectively witness a romcom happening in real life? Oscar and Y/n, you have my full support. 🙌

user95:

Half of me is SCREAMING, and the other half is like, "y’all, this is kinda creepy… let them live in peace!”

Instagram Post by yourusername:

Well... cat’s officially out of the bag. 🐱💫

Comments:

landonorris:

FINALLY!! I’ve been keeping this secret for so long, I deserve an award for acting like it’s not disgustingly adorable every single day. 😩

 ↪yourusername:

Aww, poor Lando. We’ll get you a medal. Maybe one for “Best Third Wheel” too? 🥇😏

 ↪oscarpiastri:

Best third wheel and also the loudest complainer. You’ll be fine, mate. 😂

 ↪landonorris:

I WILL NEVER BE FINE. 😤

user96:

WAIT. DID HE JUST GIVE HER A FOREHEAD KISS?! I’m dead. 🥲

user97:

Oscar, can you fight?! Because Y/n is everyone’s crush now and you’ve got competition, buddy! 😤

user98:

Oscar is living the romcom life we all deserve. We need a movie adaptation of this STAT. 🎬

user99:

This was not on my 2024 bingo card but I’m HERE FOR IT. Y’all are too cute!! 🥹

user100:

Okay but… where’s the wedding invite? I need to start shopping. 💀

user101:

Oscar, how does it feel being THE luckiest guy in the paddock? 🧐 Asking for a friend.

user102:

Not gonna lie, I’m obsessed with this. Y’all are literally relationship goals. 🥰

user103:

Oscar out here being all shy and adorable while soft-launching the cutest relationship of the year. We’re NOT worthy. 😩

user104:

I swear if Oscar ever messes this up, the entire fandom is ready to throw hands. WE GOT YOU, Y/N! 👊

user105:

They’re that couple. You know, the ones who are so cute you can’t even be mad about it. 💕

user106:

If this was a movie, the soundtrack would just be us screaming "I ship it" on repeat. 🎶

user107:

Lando’s the third wheel and we love it.

user108:

Oscar and Y/n hard-launching their love while Lando cries in the background... the content we never knew we needed. 😭💀

oscarpiastri:

Couldn’t be happier to share this with you. 💛

 ↪yourusername:

Same. I love you, Oscar. 💫

 ↪oscarpiastri:

I love you too, always. 💛

 ↪user109:

Did they just say “I love you” in the comments?!? I’m unwell, this is TOO CUTE. 😭💖

 ↪user110:

Oscar dropping “I love you” casually like we’re not all DYING right now. 💀

 ↪user111:

Every time I see them interact, I lose more faith in my ability to ever find love this cute. 😩

 ↪user112:

Oscar and Y/n: existing

Us: screaming, sobbing, throwing up, planning the wedding. 🥳

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ nicholas alexander chavez as father charlie mayhew

TW : unholy AF , smut MDNI - oral ( m receiving ) , p in v — swearing , not proofread

word count : 2917

¡! ❞ a/n : i am NOT a christian so i really do apologize for any inaccuracy or disrespectful connations this has . also so sorry for the long ass lead up to the good bit

lust.

the deadliest of sins, the one father charlie had preached against thousands of times from the pulpit. yet, here it was, not in the confessions of another but gnawing at the edges of his own heart. he could feel it now, burning low in his chest, a desire forbidden, pulling him toward the very thing he was sworn to forsake. he closed his eyes, whispering a prayer for strength, but the silence that followed held no answer.

“in the name of the father, and the son and the Holy Spirit.” 

it was all your fault – the dark-haired vixen that had appeared one sunday at mass, sitting in the front pew with wide eyes and soft pink lips. for the first time in years, he stumbled during his sermons. spew of holy words stammering to a stop as he met your gaze. you knew what you were doing—he was sure of it. sitting there with legs crossed in that tiny dress, making charlie reconsider the church’s dress code. you lean forward just enough for him to catch the curve of your chest. absentmindedly toy with the hem of your skirt. your fingers brush your bare leg, drawing his eyes like a moth to a flame. it was deliberate, a quiet rebellion against the sacredness of the space. but father charlie couldn’t deny the way his body stiffened under his long alb as he watched your meaty thighs rub against each other. lord, give me the strength to honor my vows. 

each lick of your lips felt like a sacrilege, a violation of the very sanctity he was sworn to protect. the altar, the rituals, the prayers—they all seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the pure desire that radiated from your presence. the air thickened with your heady vanilla perfume, intoxicating him with every breath he took. 

communion makes his cheeks flush. you approached the altar, hips swinging and grin already wide as you looked up at him. 

“this is the Body of Christ, given for you.”

his fingers brush over your jaw, then your lip as he slips the host in your mouth. a flash of the inside of your mouth, warm and pink, sends his mind reeling. 

you begin chewing immediately, mumbling an ‘amen’ as you stare up at him with a sly little smile. “thank you, father charlie,” your voice a sultry hiss that wrapped around him like a silky ribbon. 

he told himself it was just a test—one sent to strengthen his resolve. but you were the devil incarnate, and he couldn’t deny you – couldn’t deny the thoughts that slipped into his head late at night as he tossed in bed, torn between the lifestyle he had vowed himself to keep and the wild, reckless sin you ignited within him. it was pathetic almost, the way he found himself pumping at his length, eyes squeezed shut tight as he imagined your face behind them, your hands instead of his. he was perilously close to surrendering. 

“go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

father charlie turned to step off of the altar, collar itchy after another long 2 hours of simmering desire. he runs a hand through his hair, trying to collect himself as he adjusted the altar cloth behind him. after an hour-long sermon on moving away from the temptations of the flesh and into the light of God’s love, he couldn’t shake the irony that gnawed at him. a voice from the pews broke through his thoughts.

“father charlie!” 

is this some type of sick joke?

he hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned to face you, standing in front of the front row of pews with a Bible in hand. 

“yes?” he replied with a kindly smile, forcing a calmness he barely felt. you were dressed in a pretty blue dress today that barely reached mid-thigh. oh lord, forgive his wandering eyes.

“i need some help,” you said softly, taking a few hesitant steps closer to the altar. he towered over you as he balanced on the edge, breathing heavy as he glared down at you. “i’ve been struggling with my prayers.”

“what kind of help?” his voice came out low and husky. you were like a little lamb, begging to be defiled. so innocent. so willing, so warm, so wet. 

you shrug in response, still steps below him. “i thought maybe you could help me find the right words. show me how exactly to connect with God.” 

father charlie felt a flicker of indecision. here, in the open church, with other mass attendees milling about, he was a man of God first and foremost. no matter how raging his desire was, denying your request felt like a sin of its own.

“perhaps we should talk in my office,” he said, finally. “it would be better to discuss this privately.” 

your eyes darken at the suggestion, and he couldn’t help but notice the stiflingly close distance you kept as you followed him down the aisle. 

his office door opened with a click, and he gestured to the singular chair in front of his desk with a wave. “have a seat, please.” you slid into the chair, the fabric of your dress shifting in a way that left him momentarily breathless. he took a seat opposite you, trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism as he laced his fingers into each other on the desk. 

you leaned in over the desk, resting your elbows on the surface, your gaze fixed intently on his. “i want to feel a real connection,” you confessed, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “but sometimes I feel so lost, like my words are just… empty.” a flitter of a smirk plays on your lips as you watch father charlie lean forward as well, so your arms are inches apart. 

“well, i can help you with that,” he offered. “why don’t you start by talking to me? many people believe in men and women of the church to be intercessors to God.” his pulse quickened as his gaze, despite his will, dropped to your chest yet again. lord almighty, he was so hungry. “it’s about sincerity, about opening your heart to the divine,” he continued, his voice strained. “you need to be willing to confront your innermost thoughts and feelings.” 

“what if my innermost thoughts are. . . unconventional?” your voice was low.

“every thought is valid in the eyes of God, even those that might seem inappropriate,” father charlie smiles shakily, spreading his hands so they were resting right under your elbows. he could feel himself pulsing at the confines of his pants, so hard it was painful. 

“what if,” you pause, and he can almost see the gears turning in your head, waiting for the right time to deliver your next line. you were savoring the moment, the way he hung onto your every word like a puppy. “what if i want to fuck a priest?” 

father charlie’s breath catches, jaw going slack as his eyes dart over your face. your pupils were so dilated they swallowed the color of your eyes. the room was silent for a few moments, the only sounds his heavy breathing and your nails, raking over the wooden desk as you stood up. 

the priest was motionless while you swung around the table, slow and purposeful. father charlie's heart pounded violently in his chest, his mind scrambling for control. but the moment you stood beside him, he felt his resolve crumbling. your fingers grazed his shoulder, ghosting down his arm. “is that too sinful of a thought, father?” you coo, lips dangerously close to his ear. 

forgive me, lord. 

his eyes practically rolled back in his head, body taut as your fingers trailed back up over his arm and found their way to his neck. “hm?” you hum, your hands sliding to his shoulders, fingers beginning to lesuirely knead at the stiff muscles beneath the black fabric. he looks up at you, his mouth slightly agape as your fingers glide over his shoulders. “talk to me,” you purr, your voice dripping with honeyed sweetness.

“what do you want me to say?” he managed, his voice a low rasp. “this isn’t right, and you know it.”

“mm, but you’re not protesting much,” you teased, slipping your fingers into his hair. with a soft tug at his dark locks, you pulled his head up closer to your face as you leant over the back of the chair, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

he swallowed hard, heart racing, as you traced the outline of his lips with your fingers. “let me help you, father.”  your fingers lingered just at the edge of his mouth, teasing, inviting. “it must be years since you’ve truly felt good.” 

he couldn’t think. the weight of his collar felt heavier, tighter around his neck, as if it was constricting his very soul. forgive me, lord. 

his mouth fell open, tongue immediately reaching for your fingers. they slid in easily, curling wet and slippery against his tongue as he swirled around them desperately. you pressed a touch harder, your fingers slipping deeper into his mouth, urging him to take you in. his lips form around your fingers firmly, suckling at them all the way up to the knuckles.

you pull your hand out of his mouth, reveling at the way his entire body shudders at the loss. 

he tried to swallow, to form a coherent protest, but the words clung to the back of his throat like ash. instead, he found himself leaning upwards into your face with desperate urgency. his tongue slid in between your parted lips with a frantic sort of passion, whimpering inside your mouth as you moved over to bend in front of him. he took you onto his lap eagerly, pulling you around him so he was nice and straddled before his starved mouth seeked more of yours. his large hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. oh lord, he wanted to devour you. the thought was almost primal. a small guttural moan escaped his lips, the sound barely audible over your ragged breathing and the scrape of the chair against the floor as he pushed it back. when he finally pulled away, the room was enveloped in silence. charlie’s lips were swelled, spotted with red where you had bruised them. a smile spread across your face, bright, as if you had just won the lottery.   

“tell me what you want, father,” you breathed. 

charlie closed his eyes slowly, not willing to gaze into the face that had become a symbol of sin to him. “you know what i want.” 

“i want to hear you say it.” you murmured, your voice a coarse mix of seduction and command. 

father charlie’s eyes flit open, voice coming out in a little raggedy whisper as he grips at your waist. “you. i want you.” 

he watched as your eyes light up. “what a confession.” your fingers swept down from his lips, brushing against his jawline as you kept him pinned under your gaze. his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow gasps, every tense muscle quivering under your touch as you leaned down, lips grazing his throat. “well, i can help you with that,” you say, smiling up at him as your mouth made it to his high collar. 

✮✮✮

how you had managed to get his alb off of him in such a short amount of time, charlie had no idea. perhaps you had experience with other men of god. 

he could barely think, lethargic, as you dotted kisses down his torso, hands lying limp on your back as you moved lower and lower. you kneel on the ground, lips grazing over his still covered erection. you look up at him with an imploring look in your eyes. please. as if you even had to ask anymore – you already had him half-dressed and a sinner in his own church. 

lord, forgive me, lord. 

you unzipped his pants pain-stakingly slow, letting them drop to the ground. he barely even looked at you as his boxers came down next. his hands found their way to your head and his fingers tangle into your locks. you run your tongue down his length, tracing the outline of his tip. you give a little shriek as his hand shoves you down onto him – forcing the entireity of his manhood down your throat. father charlie’s head goes reeling back, giving a low moan as you hollow out your cheeks to accomodate his size. you begin your sloppy endeavour of giving him head by bobbing up and down over and over until charlie’s moans turned into wild whimpers, hand still firmly gripping at your head. one of your hands reached out to lightly grip at his balls, eliciting yet another pornographic keen from the man. “shit,” he hissed as he bucked his hips into your perfect mouth. he spurted wildly down your throat before lifting your head off by your hair. you pant, using the back of your hand to wipe the spit and remanants of his climax off of your mouth. finally, charlie releases your head and you collapse into his knee with a sharp intake of air. 

you watch as the man slowly stroked at himself, red and puckery from stimulation. father charlie craned his neck down, extending a hand to cup your cheek. you look up at him with big doe eyes, placing kisses on his palm as he rubbed at your jaw. “stand up for me,” he muttered, grabbing at your waist when you obey, shoving you back onto his lap. you sit just inches from his dick being inside you. you’re silent as he runs a hand down your neck. his hand reaches the neckline of your dress, and he wrenches it downwards with a crooked finger. your tits spill out over the hem, and you see as his eyes darken even further. 

charlie wasted no time before latching his lips onto you, slurping at your left nipple while palming the other. he lapped at the smooth skin ravenously — not daring to leave a single mark as he soflty nips at your chest. he trailed wet kisses up to your face, stopping so he could look you right in the eyes. “you’re beautiful.” beautiful enough to make him forget his vows ever existed, beautiful enough to have him accept that fornication is not a sin, beautiful enough to make him have full confidence in the fact that this was love, and not simply a lustful infection of his brain. 

“don’t make me blush,” you reply, pressing a long kiss to his lips before shifting on his leg, hands postioned at his shoulders. you hover just over his dick and gaze at his scalp while he continues to plant kisses on your throat and his hand finds your panties. they’re pulled eagerly to the side, a single finger testing the slick entrance before you drop yourself onto him, two simultaneous groans filling the room as you adjusted yourself on his cock. charlie’s hands find their way to your hips under your dress, grip iron-tight.

you felt better than he could have ever imagined.

you let out a slow exhale as you push yourself up by his shoulders, trying to bounce on him like you had so many before – but he was too big. 

father charlie observed as you winced, eyes pressed firmly shut as your walls scraped against his length. a little mewl escapes your lips. a lazy smile creeps up on his face. he lets you struggle for a few more seconds before stopping you with a little scoff. “shh, it’s okay,” he cooed as you protested weakly. “let me.” he snapped his hips into you, satisfied when he hears a lewd, long moan from you. your fingers grope at his chest as he relentlessly thrusts into you – rapid and hard. your mouth hangs agape and your head is crammed into the crevice of his neck while he fills your ears with breathless moans. with each frenzied push, you felt your walls tighten, your climax approaching quick. finally, your vision goes white and you let out a loud scream as your body falls limp onto him. charlie continues to fuck you as you drooled on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the pure force of the orgasm you had just experienced. eventually, he finished up as well, murmuring something about buying you a pill before releasing his load into your warmth.  

✮✮✮

“in the name of the father, and the son and the Holy Spirit.” 

you sat, head bowed, fingers interlaced, trying to focus on the familiar cadence of father charlie's voice echoing through the chapel. for the first time since the few months you had been at his church, his sermons were smooth as honey, flawless and hypnotic. you dared a glance up, just a flicker of your gaze through your lashes, and caught the moment his eyes found yours, however briefly.

“go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

"father charlie!"

he hesitates for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned to face you, standing in front of the front row of pews, an innocent expression that didn’t fool him for a second.

"whatever you're about to say," he cuts you off, his voice low and tight. "is better discussed in private."

¡! ❞ © sstargirln 2024

[buckys-wintersoldier]

A love least expected | B.B

Bucky thought he found the love of his life in Steve, but little did he know that Steve going back in time would give him the opportunity to fall in love with someone who really loves Bucky.

Pairing: BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Fem!Reader, past Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 6.184 Words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, Bucky being insecure, Steve being mean, taking less care of themselves (Bucky), best friends to lovers, bit of idiots in love/mutual pinning, reader reads letter Bucky wrote to Steve (he doesn’t mind), more fluff, so much fluff, love confession

Authors Note: Thank you to my loveliest best friend @thevillainswhore for helping me find the pictures, a title and for always listening to all the ideas I throw at you hehe. I love you so much!❤️❤️ Dividers made by me.

Events: Trick or treat | Bucky Barnes, trick and treat, soulmates, best friends to lovers | hosted by me | Stevie BB 200 Follower Writing Challenge | Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, soulmate AU/ bit of idiots in love/mutual pinning, “Are you fucking kidding me?” | @steviebbboi | Writing Challenge | Soulmates AU, 🥐 ༄ؘ “ I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it.” | @elixirfromthestars

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The cold wind was blowing harshly, cutting into his skin. But the coldness outside was nothing compared to the one he felt inside him. His lips turned into a thin line, and the usual light blue eyes are now filled with pain and sorrow. His heart was broken, shattered in the tiniest pieces, and not even a sorry couldn’t fix what broke just a few minutes earlier.

The brown-haired man watched his boyfriend — ex-boyfriend — walking closer to the others. Time tracking, Bucky knew when he just heard that Steve would bring back the stones that he wouldn’t come back as the man he used to be.

The hug was too long, the gazes too intense, too hurtful. And Bucky knew it’s the last time he would hold his boyfriend — the next time he will hold him, it will only be his best friend. He couldn’t blame Steve; he didn’t want to. His heart was broken, but his feelings were still as strong as they used to be — as they always were, in the forties already.

While Bucky couldn’t imagine moving on without the man he thought would be the love of his life, he watched Steve move on without him. All the years, all what they went through meant not enough for Steve to be happy with him.

And once again, his mind ran wild. Was it Bucky who gave Steve a reason to move on? Maybe it was the winter soldier that made him less lovely for Steve. Maybe it was everything he did all those years. But why… why was Steve looking for him? He went to war for him and would even have walked to Austria for him. And now there was a man walking to the others; he did look like his Stevie, but he was so different.

Bucky wanted to call the other man’s name; he wanted to run after him and hold him. A few silent tears were rolling down his cheeks, his body shaking slightly, and he tried to hold back his sobs. With every step Steve was taking away from him, he felt his heart ripped out of his chest. There was nothing left.

The words Steve said earlier were still echoing through Bucky’s mind. ‘Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.’ Until he gets back, but the way Bucky’s stomach dropped when he looked into the usual lovely blue eyes of his boyfriend, he could tell that things would be different when Steve would be back.

‘I’m gonna miss you, buddy.’ Bucky had to reply. He knew when Steve was lying, when Steve had something planned without saying it out loud. And this was one of these moments, where the slightly sad expression on the other man’s face gave away the truth. His lips curled up so softly that Bucky would have missed it; wouldn’t he have to find a little bit of hope for them in his boyfriend’s expression.

‘It’s gonna be okay, Buck.’ It was then and there the moment Bucky was sure that Steve wasn’t going to come back as the man he was going to leave. The man Bucky used to love will be back in the forties, being lost somewhere there; maybe he found true love while Bucky was in the war. Or maybe… maybe he would just go back to Buck and give them both a life they deserved without the pain the army and hydra caused.

But deep down Bucky knew the truth; he felt that Steve would change. Just the hope and the love made him believe that his boyfriend could come back to him and could be with him.

The further Steve walked away, the colder it got inside and around Bucky. He was shivering. The strong arms of the other man were still around him, at least the feeling of them. But with every inch of distance between both of the men, Bucky felt the warmth of the touch disappear, and he regretted even letting go of his boyfriend. But he had to; he had to let him go so at least Steve could be happy and live the life he wanted while he left Bucky with no more faith in love.

You were standing a bit away from them, watching your best friend literally break while he watched Steve. Your heart was aching, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and give him the comfort he needed, but you also didn’t want to embarrass him because he was crying and shaking from the pain he felt.

So, you decided to walk over to him and try to give him as much comfort as possible without jumping around his neck with a blanket to wrap him in it and keep him protected and warm.

“Hey, Buck,” you greeted him with a soft smile. His eyes were stuck on the other man, watching every muscle moving and the way his hips swung. You followed his eyes, your smile turning sad, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart shattering.

It’s not that you were in love with Steve; of course he was a good friend. But you know for Bucky he meant the world, that Bucky thought he found the love of and for his life in Steve. Still, he has to watch the person he used to love more than everything, leaving for a life Bucky couldn’t give to him.

You noticed the tears rolling down Bucky’s cheeks; his breath got heavier, and you could almost feel the way your best friend broke from the inside. The deep blue eyes were suddenly so empty; the smile that was always across his face was replaced by a thin line of his lips. The sweet scrunch of his nose that always got everyone’s attention was now replaced by the tears that were quietly falling down his cheeks.

“W-why…?” Bucky asked, his voice only a hoarse whimper. The self-doubts were crashing down on him like the heaviest building ever. Maybe he wasn’t enough; of course he wasn’t. Would he be ever enough for Steve, then he wouldn’t have decided to travel back to have a life with a woman — without Bucky. “Why doesn’t he love me?”

You swallowed thickly; there was no simple answer for that. You didn’t even know if Steve loved Bucky or not. With a soft sigh, you looked at Steve, then at Bucky, and took another step closer to him. “Sometimes… Sometimes love isn’t enough for someone to stay. But that’s not your fault; some people just can’t… they can’t appreciate what they get from another person. They think they can ‘do better’ even though they have everything they need. Sometimes it takes distance for one to notice that he was in the wrong.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up slightly. His eyes still on Steve as he placed the helmet on his head and stepped into the machine for time travel. “So, maybe he will come back to me… to us… to that here as the one he is now?”

The hope in Bucky's voice caused a cold shiver running down your spine. You really hoped for him that Steve would come back as the one he was. That he only needed to see that he loved Bucky and that he found everything in the man he could possibly find in someone.

But deep down, you actually knew that it’s not true. Steve wouldn’t be the one he used to be. But you weren’t sure; you didn’t want to break Bucky’s heart further, but lying and letting him think that Steve would be his old self? You don’t want to do it either.

“I-I don’t know,” you mumbled and watched Steve. He disappeared. Next to you, you noticed something — or someone — was falling down to the ground. Your eyes widened, and your heart shattered as the scream left his parted lips.

Bucky kneeled next to you on the dirty, cold floor, his eyes red and watery while he pants. It was his scream; it was his pain. He had to let go the moment the love of his life disappeared to live another life. He stared down; his hands were grasping the dirt under his fingers, and tears were falling down his cheeks.

“No…no…no…no,” he panted, repeating the words over and over again. His breath was heavy, and his eyes were unfocused. And then he started to shake his head; his eyes were wandering from the ground up to where Steve was standing and back to the ground. “Please… come back. St-Steve, please.”

You watched Bucky for a moment, considering whether to kneel down or give him a moment for himself. Your eyes were wandering over his shaking form, and when he started to repeat Steve’s name and begged him to come back, you got down on your knees as well.

“Bucky? I know it hurts, but Steve isn’t coming back,” you mumbled. You’re not sure what to say, but trying to hide the truth wouldn’t help Bucky either. “Can you look at me?”

Bucky swallowed, turning his face toward you. His eyes were red and puffy, his lips formed into a pout, and he stared at you with the most hurt expression you have ever seen on his face. He nodded, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine,” you said in a soft voice. You brought your hand to his soft, brown locks. Bucky relaxed slightly, the pain still visible, but at least he had someone who was there for him. You curled his hair around your fingers, stroking his neck softly. “Everything is going to be fine; you’re not alone. I know it feels like that; it feels like Steve took everything with him, but he didn’t. We’re still here for you, and you’re loved.”

Bucky nodded, leaning his head against your shoulder. His arms automatically wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer toward him. The brown-haired man’s fingers were digging into your skin, holding onto you to make sure you’re staying as close as possible to him.

“You stay?”

“I will stay. You’re my best friend; I love you, and I will give you all the hugs and cuddles you need, Buck.”

The days and the weeks felt so much longer and so empty without Steve. Bucky didn’t sleep much at all; he refused to eat and cared about anything but his letters. Since Steve left, he wrote a letter every day, putting all his feelings, all his pain, and all his love into them. Even though he refused to go out, he didn’t mind when you came over and gave him some company.

You sighed when you opened the door to Bucky’s apartment. The air was thick and stinging; you closed the door and walked further into the apartment. You got used to Bucky’s behavior, his less care for everything, but you wished you could help him.

“Buck? I brought some food,” you said as you looked through the door of his living room. His eyes were shooting up at you. He nodded with a slightly sad smile and held out his hands, curious what you got for him. “How are you feeling today?”

He shrugged, taking the bag and looking into it. “‘M not sure. Empty… cold?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, but he smiled softly when he noticed something you got for him. He took it and held it out of the bag, showing it to you. “I love these, my favorite chocolate.”

You watched him for a while before you walked through the room to open the windows and let some fresh air in. Even though Bucky tried to convince you to not clean, you always did it when you were there. Most of the time he even helped you, finding it easier to clean when he didn’t have to do it all by himself.

“When did you shower last time?” Bucky looked up, his face heating up as he turned his face away again. You sighed, knowing it was at least a week ago that he had a shower. “How about you get one yet?”

Bucky shook his head; fear was visible in his blue orbs. You furrowed, walking closer to him. He didn’t look at you, too ashamed to do so. Bucky’s breath hitched as you kneeled down in front of him and rested your arms on his thick thighs.

“Why not?” Your voice was sweet as honey. You knew it was the best way to talk to Bucky without making him more ashamed or making him feel worse.

“Becuase…” Bucky swallowed thickly. “What if I come back here and you’re gone?”

Your eyes widened, and your heart was beating faster. After Steve left, Bucky got more and more separation anxiety, but you didn’t know it would be that bad. That it would cause him to refuse letting you out of your view when you’re there — which you are around every day or at least every other day.

“I’m not going anywhere else,” you mumbled, drawing small circles on his thick. Bucky nodded, his eyes watering as he looked at you. His big hands moved almost automatically to yours; he placed them on top of yours and held them tight.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Bucky nodded at your assurance. He still refused to let go of your hands and move an inch, but he knew he had to take a shower at least. He didn’t even know why he still felt so low. Steve hurt him; he broke him, but he found something that’s worth living again. But whatever he tried, the thought of losing it made him curl into a little ball and feel the depression coming over him again.

“But… you stay here?” Bucky asked once again. You nodded, smiling at him before getting up to sit down next to him and giving him the room to get up. He sighed, his hands shaking, but he finally moved and got up to walk to the bathroom.

His eyes were darting between you and the bathroom, making sure you were still sitting on the couch. Your heart broke slightly about the insecure and broken man who used to be so happy and proud of himself. Someone who was never insecure about himself.

When he finally got into the shower, you started to clean his apartment. Starting with the trash that was placed all over the floor and surfaces. You then changed the sheets on his bed and opened the windows there as well until you reached the big pile of dirty clothes.

With a chuckle, you picked it up and ordered it to put it into the washing machine. You noticed a bunch of letters between some other stuff on the table; you listened to the sound of the running shower before taking them.

It wasn’t your best move, you know that, but you were curious who he was writing a letter — or a bunch of letters. You opened the first one; the first one made your breath hitch.

For Steve.

Your eyes widened, then they moved to the date on it; it was written one day after Steve left. You couldn’t stop the curiosity from boiling over and made you continue reading what Bucky wrote.

I miss you. I miss you more than I thought one could miss someone else. Are you coming back? Please don’t go away; don’t leave me.

You noticed the few patches of tears in the paper; your heart was clenching while you continued to read further through the letter. Bucky told Steve everything about the day he left — that he broke down, that you comforted him, that he couldn’t sleep, and that everything felt so hard. Bucky’s heart was broken, and he put it down in the form of words; even though Steve isn’t reading it, he could at least get it out of him.

Don’t leave me alone in this new world. It’s more than I can handle; it’s so new, so different from the forties. Please don’t leave me alone in this new and modern world.

Your eyes watered at the desperation Bucky probably feels every day. Even though you knew that things changed since the forties, you hoped that it wouldn’t feel that bad for Bucky. Reading those words made your heart clench in your chest, causing you to shiver.

I love you.

Bucky.

Putting the letter away, you took another one, curious what Bucky wrote later. It wasn’t just a letter from a day later; it was one around a month later. You opened it and stared at the first words Bucky wrote.

Hi Steve,

it still feels different without you. I still feel that something about me is missing. It hurts to think about you, and sometimes I still even hear your voice.

You stared at the words; it was different. Bucky wasn’t as desperate as he was before anymore. It still pained you to know that Bucky was suffering so much because of the man he thought he would love. But on the other side, you knew that Bucky felt better now, at least a bit.

I feel less empty; it’s less cold. But I am still mad at you. I hope you’re being happy, but it makes me insane to know that I couldn’t be the one who makes you happy.

I’m mad that you left me alone in the modern world by myself. That you went back in time, that you looked like you didn’t care about me.

Your eyes were roaming over Bucky’s words. His thoughts were all written down on a piece of paper — his anger, his hurt, but also that he loved Steve. You continued to read this letter before you took another one, the one he wrote last night.

You listened closely, the shower still running, so you inhaled deeply once more and opened that letter as well.

Curiosity was stuck to every fiber in your body; you weren’t sure if you should read it. You shouldn’t have started to read them at all because they were private. But on the other side, it was also important to see how Bucky was doing; those letters said so much more than he did. He didn’t like talking too much about his feelings, especially not about Steve. So you were letting your eyes wander over the words of the letter.

I found that girl; she’s beautiful and sweet. I never thought I could look at someone and feel that way ever again, but she made me see the world in a positive way. Her eyes shine like the sun, and her laugh is the most beautiful I have ever heard. She's the light in my nights and the one I can hold onto if I feel like I fall.

Your eyes widened as you read the words Bucky wrote down. There weren’t many people who were around Bucky; it was actually mostly Sam and you. So the only person he could mean was you, and a shiver ran down your spine when your stomach flipped.

Bucky may have fallen in love with you. It was a while back since Steve left him, and you knew about the way Bucky changed that he slowly got over Steve. Even though he was still sad about what Steve did, and even though Bucky didn’t get himself to take care, he also changed slightly into a bit more of a happy self.

I still don’t get my ass up; I don’t find motivation to clean and take care of things or even me. Except she’s around, then she helps me. You know her; she was the only person who helped me get up and who stood by my side when you left me in this modern world to live another life. And she never — not once — left my side since that. She is my strength; she is my everything.

You put the letter back on the table when you heard the door of the bathroom opening. Bucky walked with a towel around his waist into the living room; his expression was soft, and a soft smile played around his lips. You had seen him like that — without a shirt and damp hair — a few times before, but this time it made your knees buckle, and you were glad that you were still sitting on the couch.

Bucky walked closer to you, looking around as he noticed that you really cleaned for him. Then his eyes landed on the letters that were still on the table; one of them was open, and he gasped softly.

“Y-you know you don’t have to clean…” He said, his eyes still focused on the letter. Emotions overcame him: fear, happiness, panic, and love. “Did you read them?”

Bucky smiled softly as he saw your reaction. He knew exactly that you read them, and he even liked it. So he didn’t have to hide his feelings anymore, even though he was unsure what you feel, if you would feel the same or were going to be mad about it.

You nodded, watching him walk closer. Bucky took a short and a pair of boxers from the counter, pulling them on before he focused his attention back on you. His heart was racing, and his breath sped up slightly the longer he waited for an answer from you.

“A-Are you m-mad? I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it,” he breathed out, sitting down next to you on the couch. One of his legs underneath the other while he watched you intensely. “I… we can just ignore it… I-I just… I know you could think I just fell in love because Steve left. But I guess I just needed to realize that Steve and I never worked the way I tried to see.”

Bucky often told you about his relationship with Steve. He loved the other man, but Steve was still stuck in the past. And even though he tried to hide it, Bucky always knew it. The brown-haired man loved Steve a whole lot, but the moment the other was turned into a big, muscular man — Bucky knew that Steve wouldn’t be as much in love with him any longer. He finally got the attention he always hoped to get; he finally didn’t have to feel insecure anymore. As much as Bucky tried, he could never help Steve with his insecurities as much as the serum then did.

“I know,” you mumbled, resting your hand on Bucky's thigh. You smiled softly at him, running your fingers over his knee. “I’ve seen the way you changed after Steve left. I still see it and also how you act around me. And I’m glad I read those letters, and I’m also glad that you fell in love with me.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t sure if he heard right or if that was just the most amazing dream ever. His blue eyes were staring into yours, holding your gaze as he waited for you to laugh and tell him that you just made a joke. But the moment didn’t come; instead, you inch closer to him and had the most adorable smile on your face.

“Do you need me to spell it for you?” You chuckled and brought your hand to his cheek. You brushed your fingers over his soft stubbles. Bucky tilted his head, leaning more into your touch. “I. L. O. V. E. Y. O. U. I’m in love with you too.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes still holding yours as you literally spelled ‘I love you’ for him. He inhaled deeply; it was shaky and slow, but the smile on his face only grew the more the words seeped into his mind.

“You really do? Like, in a way that if I asked you out, you would say yes? Like in a way that if I wanted to kiss you, you would let me?” He asked; he was almost stumbling over his own words. The thoughts were racing in his mind, and he couldn’t help but imagine your soft lips pressing delicately against yours.

“I really do. I would definitely say yes. And would you like to kiss me… if I would let you. How about you try and find out?”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning closer to you. “You know, you're my rock in every hard time. You’re the star that brightens up my day. You’re the sun that warms me. And even though I still have some trouble taking care of things and even myself. Never doubt my love; I may not be good at cleaning and all. But I know that I love you more than everything; you know that, don’t you?”

You chuckled and nodded. “I do know that you do. And I would never doubt your love, my clingy, precious boy,” you smirked at him, causing him to growl in amusement. “I do love you too.”

Without another word, Bucky leaned closer and pressed his lips softly against yours. His hands found their way around your waist, pulling you into his lap while he intertwined his fingers behind your back and held you close. Your hands moved almost automatically to his neck, pulling him closer until his nose brushed over your cheek.

Bucky growled into the kiss; his lips were moving softly and slowly against yours. It felt different, like every kiss or touch the two of you ever felt before — this one wasn’t just a kiss with someone you hoped to be with forever; this was a kiss that meant forever. It was the start of your journey together, the start of the most special thing you could have imagined.

“Buc-“ you interrupted yourself the moment you heard the voice of Steve coming from your shared living room. Bucky and you were happier than ever; you had a lot of dates, and after a while you even moved in with him. He was the sweetest man you have ever met, and he feels the happiness back inside of him. But now you had to listen to your boyfriend talking to his ex-boyfriend, to the man he used to love more than everything.

Your heart was beating faster, and you pressed yourself against the wall behind you, scared of what you were going to hear. Bucky loved you; the two of you had enough time and moments to fall deeply in love with you. But you never thought what would happen the moment Steve would walk back into his life because you never thought Steve would do that.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I don’t know what came over me or what made me do that. I should have never left; I don’t… I just don’t know,” Steve mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair. The hair Bucky used to love running his fingers through and playing with the strands of Steve’s hair.

Bucky shook his head. He inhaled deeply before looking straight into his ex-boyfriend's blue orbs. “I accept your apology.”

Your heart dropped when you heard that; a shaky breath left your lips, and you had to fight the tears that threatened to break free. This couldn’t be possible; Bucky couldn’t leave you, could he? You tried to stay as calm as possible, listening carefully to the conversation before freaking out or breaking down.

“So you come back? You let me come back? I missed you; it was all a big mistake. I never cheated on you; I just needed to see that you’re the one for me, I guess. Bucky, please give us another chance. I will be better this time,” Steve said, his voice pleasing, and you knew without having to look at him how he looked at Bucky. You wouldn’t blame Bucky for going back to Steve, even though it would break your heart. If it was Bucky’s wish to go back to Steve, he would never dare to be between them and stop Bucky from being happy.

“Guess you didn’t cheat, but you’re still a traitor,” Bucky said, his voice calm and shaking. He shook his head as he looked at Steve, who had tears in his eyes. “I wish that you had thought this through before I went and fell in love with you.”

Steve’s jaw dropped as he heard the words leaving his ex-lovers lips. “Buck… you-you can’t be serious. I love you; I always loved you.”

You noticed the shaking in Steve’s voice, and you felt almost pity — wouldn't he have been the reason for Bucky being down and broken after he left. You heard Bucky shuffling; he was probably grasping his hair like he always did and turned around. Bucky inhaled deeply before turning back to Steve. “Did you love me when she was sleeping in the bed we made? Don’t you dare forget about the way you betrayed me. ‘Cause I know that you will never feel sorry for sleeping in the bed with her, for kissing her, for looking at her like you used to look at me,” Bucky breathed out.

“I-I didn’t..” Steve gets interrupted by Bucky shaking his head. He didn’t want to hear more; he didn’t want anyone to destroy his happiness ever again — not even his ex-boyfriend. “Please, Bucky, I need you.”

“I’m sorry,” the brown-haired mumbled. He wasn’t sure to tell Steve about you, to tell him about the love he found and the happiness he feels again. “I can't, and I honestly don't want to. You broke me and.. I—“

“You what?” Steve asked in a dominant and angry tone. His eyes widened when he thought about a possible reason Bucky couldn’t go back to him. “No. Don’t tell me you… Bucky, no.”

You took a few steps back before you walked with a few louder steps to let them know that you approached the room. Steve and Bucky looked at you. Steve’s eyes were widened with shock and disbelief, while Bucky looked at you with a soft smile and brightened eyes at you.

“Babydoll,” Bucky smirked and held his arms open for you to walk closer to him. Your eyes drifted to Steve for a moment before you let Bucky wrap his arms tightly around you. He pressed his lips softly against your forehead, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his waist — which you did. “How was the meeting? Everything fine, or do you need anything?”

You smiled softly against his chest. Bucky was always so sweet and caring when it came to you. He always made sure that you had everything you needed and that you got whatever you wanted or needed. Seeing your smile and the love you gave to him made his heart swell, and he just couldn’t help but feel in love with you every time.

“Everything is fine. Just wanted to get a glass of water and ask if you have any idea for dinner today,” you mumbled before pulling back softly and looking at Steve. His eyes were narrow, and he watched the two of you intensely. Steve swallowed thickly when he saw the way Bucky hugged you, the way he kissed your forehead, and how sweet and loving he was around you. “Hey, Steve.”

He nodded, watching you walk toward the kitchen. His eyes were glued to you. Bucky cleared his throat, getting Steve’s attention. The smile on Bucky’s face turned into a like again when he looked back at Steve, who shook his head slightly.

“Are you fu— kidding me? How much do you pay her that you made me suffer like that? Do you want me to get on my knees to beg you to take me back?” Steve asked, determined to get an answer that would make it possible for Steve to get his ex-boyfriend back.

“I’m not doing it to make you suffer. I love her, and she loves me. When you left, I went home, I sat in the corner of the room, and everything reminded me of you,” Bucky said before taking a deep breath.

He didn’t like to hurt Steve like that; he didn’t want to hurt him, but he wasn’t in love with him anymore. Bucky found you; he found his babydoll, someone who would never leave him — for no one else.

“I thought about what could make you go back in time, and then I noticed. Peggy, the way you looked at her in the bar. She was the first woman who gave you attention. It didn’t matter that I loved you more than everything because you got the attention of a woman — a handsome and nice woman,” the brown-haired man’s eyes roamed over Steve’s face, noting the ways his lips twitched. Bucky knew he was right; he knew that Steve loved the attention he got from Peggy; no woman had ever looked at him like that before.

“That’s not… I mean, yes, but that’s not true. I do like the attention I got from her, but that doesn’t mean that I love you less. I do love you the same.” Steve growled; he was annoyed. Not about Bucky but about himself. Maybe a bit about you too, but the most he was annoyed and mad at himself. “You can’t just date someone else. You still love me, don’t you?”

“No. I saw you disappearing; did you hear my scream? She saw it; she fucking heard it. Did you ever think about me before or while you did it? I wrote a letter for you. Every single day. And the only thing I thought about was you being happier,” Bucky mumbled, staring directly into Steve’s eyes.

The other man swallowed thickly. The hurt in Bucky’s expression when he told him about the day Steve left. Or the love in his expression when he looked at you. Or when he kissed you, Bucky was so soft and lovely that Steve wasn’t sure if it was all a game to make him suffer or if it was true. But with every following word, he knew that Bucky fell in love with you and that he really loved you.

“My friends told me one day I'd feel it too. And I do; I finally do. I feel with her what it is to be loved — to know that she will never leave me like you did. I could have tried to smile and hide the truth when you left. When I thought I was happier with you, she would have seen because she always knows how I feel, how I really feel.”

“Bucky, you can’t be serious; you just can’t.” Steve breathed out, the realization that the brown-haired man is now happier with you hitting him. So he added in a softer and quieter tone. “But yes… you look happier, you do.”

The brown-haired man nodded, smiling softly. He felt sorry for Steve, but it was his decision to leave; it was his decision to go back in time to live another life. Bucky looked over to the kitchen where you’re standing with your glass; you watched them. When your eyes locked, you smiled softly, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel his heart beating even faster for you.

Bucky turned back to Steve before he smiled at him as well — it was less happy and not reaching his eyes but assuring. “I knew one day you’d fall for someone new. But that’s okay, cause I found someone who made me feel loved like you never could make me feel.” Bucky said, his eyes wandering from Steve to you and back to Steve.

The other man huffed; he thought Bucky would wait for him to let him come back so they could be happy together. “I hope she’s making you happy. But if she breaks your heart like lovers do, just know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

Bucky’s body tensed at those words. He knew that Steve was hurt and wanted to hurt him as well, but he also knew that he’s happier with you now. He found the love he never thought existed; you would never leave him, and you love him with every fiber of you. With all the words and gestures, the love and affection you give him, you show him that you mean it, that Bucky means everything to you — just like you mean everything to him.

“She isn’t a lover of mine. She is the other half of me. She’s my babydoll; she would never do anything that hurts me,” Bucky mumbled before leading Steve out of the house. Then he returned to you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly against his broad chest.

“Thank you; without you, I would have never felt that love, and I would never have been able to be strong enough to say no to someone who betrayed me. My babydoll, mine, all mine.” Bucky pressed his lips against your neck, then your cheek, until he pulled you into a soft kiss. A kiss that said more than words could ever express — love and affection for eternity.

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[seresinhangmanjake]

kind of an angsty prompt, reader is one of feyd’s more “unpopular” concubines, never actually having been acknowledged by him and as a result is treated pretty badly since she is seen as “undesirable”. but one day when house harkonnen is having a celebration and other houses are invited, she catches the attention of paul atreides, who is desperate to take her as his own. the baron concedes, since feyd doesn’t pay her any attention, but over the years feyd gets to know more about her personality and falls for her, as she has more power as paul’s sole concubine and can assert herself much better than when she was his. kinda a “didn’t know what you had till you lost it situation”.

The Only One

Feyd-Rautha x concubine!reader

Warnings/Notes: I made it a little bit different, so I hope that's ok. The chronology of this is all messed up from the movies. People are alive who wouldn’t be, but just go with it. People being owned. Feyd is grumpy boy. Slight smut, so 18+. Angsty-ish, but lighter ending. Cursing.

Words: 3300

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Your mother once told you that love was wonderful. Just like that. Simple words, as if factual, as if love were so stunningly special that it didn’t need flowery language to prove it’s worth. Love is wonderful and one day you will see so for yourself. That’s what she said. But what did she know, really. She was a blip in the universe who promised you would partake in an experience that has done you more harm and little good. This love she spoke of—you’ve seen it. Worse, you’ve felt it. And it is nothing like she described. It has been anything but wonderful. 

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen does not love you. In fact, if he were to love at all, you wouldn’t even make the list of potential receivers of that love. There are many in line before you. Three, to be exact—his harpies. Were he capable of love, he would love them. They are the ones he visits in the night, not you. They are the ones he keeps at his side, not you. Like you, they are owned by him, but unlike you, they are paraded around while you are cast aside. 

You don’t know why he claimed you if he was never going to use you. He declared you a concubine—effectively forbidding any hands other than his on your body—only to leave you untouched for the better part of a year. Untouched. Unloved, in every sense of the word. 

Perhaps it is because you are not like them. You’re not from Giedi Prime and you fumbled to learn their customs, and maybe that was too unattractive. Maybe all he saw in you was a fool failing to adjust to the life he leads, and maybe he could not look past that to see how hard you were trying for him. 

Since you became his property, all you’ve wanted is for him to like you. Not even reciprocate the love you harbor, but simply enjoy your presence and come to you every once in a while rather than allowing the harpies to tend to him. It doesn’t seem like too much to hope for, but you know better. He doesn’t care for you. He paid no attention to you as your heart attached itself to him, and yet it attached with mighty strength anyway. 

You’ve stopped pretending like you don’t know where that leaves you. For some time, you played the mental game. He could grow to love me…one day. If only he paid me a second of attention, he would see my devotion and realize I'm what he’s always wanted. Fairytale stuff used to deflect your fate. But you know your fate, and it isn’t a life by the side of the cruel-hearted man you've come to love. It’s a life alone. 

—

“Care for a drink?” you hear. 

Without looking in the direction of the voice, you say, “No, thank you,” having been taught that as the sole acceptable answer to a man’s advances. No, because you belong to him. Thank you, because rudeness can start wars. 

“You’ve been standing here all night,” the voice continues. “You have to be thirsty.”

He must know who you are by now. The Hakonnens have hosted grand events before, and you’ve always been present. If the men who have approached you in the past did not know who owned you, they would learn rather quickly. A word from a nearby guard and a glance into Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s glare and those men would back off. 

You look Feyd’s way. He’s busy with the harpies. No glare in sight.

“My House brought our finest wines. I can guarantee you would enjoy a taste.”

You can barely hold back your groan. Your head whips in the direction of the voice. “Thank you, but–” You cut yourself off with a gasp.

Paul Atreidies chuckles. The emperor chuckles. “Bring her a glass,” he says to a Harkonnen servant. The servant hesitates for a second, which only you seem to detect. He has no choice but to obey the emperor, yet doing so may cost him his life. Yet, he heads off, disappearing into the crowd toward the refreshments.

“I apologize,” you say as you bow your head in shame. 

His finger crooks under your chin and lifts so your eyes have to meet his. “A pretty face should never be to the ground. Even a concubine’s.”

“You know who I am.”

“Of course I do,” he says. “I’ve seen you before.”

You flush with embarrassment. If he’s noticed you before, then he’s noticed you alone before, standing in this exact spot against the wall. And if he’s noticed you and is willing to talk to you, then he likely pities you. To have the emperor’s pity—a gift or a sign of weakness?

The servant returns, handing you a glass half filled with a deep maroon liquid. Paul Atreides lifts his own glass and clinks it against yours. The rim meets his lips. He takes his sip and then smiles as he watches you do the same. 

He raises a brow. “Good?” You nod. “Good. Would you like more?”

“No,” you reply after hastily swallowing. “Thank you.”

He grins again and then turns so you’re shoulder to shoulder, staring out into the mass of mingling bodies. “I don’t enjoy these,” he says. “My birthdays are more intimate affairs.”

You don’t know what he’s getting at, but insulting the birthday of the Baron’s most promising nephew makes your stomach drop. Were the man beside you not the emperor, and had anyone overheard him, he would have a blade run through him by the end of the night. 

“What good is spending your birthday with people you do not love and who do not love you?” he says, and with great restraint, you keep from spitting that a Harkonnen cannot love and so it makes no difference to them who is around. Then he says, “You know, I could make sure you always have plenty.” 

When you look at him, his head nudges to the glass in your hand. Your heart thumps. “I–I don’t understand what you mean,” you tell him, hoping that what you think you understand from his words is wildly incorrect. 

“You could be mine,” he tells you. “I would like for you to be mine. I would actually touch you, unlike him.” Unlike the man whose neglect has rendered you useless. 

“Surely your wife would not be pleased.”

“She’s used to it,” he says. You didn’t know what else you expected. You’ve heard of the famous Chani. “I intend to ask the Baron for you. Out of politeness, of course.” Because he could just take you if he wanted. He is the emperor, after all. But rudeness… “Would you like that?”

Not unless you like being separated from the organ that keeps your body alive. But then again, that organ has been mutilated to the point that not much else could damage it. 

Your eyes dart to Feyd. He’s watching you from his seat across the room, his blue irises darkened. He cannot do anything about the closeness of Paul Atreides. He wouldn’t, you know, but if he wanted to, he couldn’t. A harpy runs her hand across his cheek. A lump forms in your throat. You look away. 

“I think I would,” you answer. 

—

“He can’t have her!” 

You can hear him through the grand doors. You’re not supposed to be here, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to know his reaction to you leaving, but you didn’t expect this. You figured he’d send a servant to pack up your belongings and set them by the entrance of the fortress right before shoving you outside with his own two hands. 

“He can,” the Baron says. Something crashes against a wall. Its pieces clink as they hit the ground. 

“She belongs to me! She’s mine!” Feyd shouts. “She–”

“You don’t use her. She’s no great loss to you. If the harpies are insufficient, you can find another elsewhere, but this one now belongs to the Emperor.”

“He's forcing her,” Feyd says. “He's stealing her from me!”

You wonder if anyone other than Paul Atreides knows the truth: that you were offered a chance to leave and have decided to take it. You’re not being stolen. The Emperor did not remove the collar around your neck simply to replace it with one of his own. He asked; you said yes. 

“She agreed,” the Baron answers, effectively ending your curiosity. It shocks you, not seeming like information necessary for an Emporer to tell one of his subjects. “Not that it matters,” he says, and you agree. 

“Make him give her back to me!”

“I’m not interested in increasing tensions between our Houses over some concubine, nephew. Find yourself a new one.”

You know he will. It won’t take him long, and he might actually put his hands on this one. You ignore the clench in your stomach at the thought of his touch on someone other than the harpies. Maybe she would be more like you—color to her cheeks, hair on her head. You hope you never meet her. It’ll make you sick. It would mean it really has been you. All this time, you were the problem. You were the defective one. Only you weren’t worth his attention.

When presence enters your space, you know it’s time. You face the Kaitainian guard, and he turns. You follow him away from Feyd. 

—

Feyd POV - One Year Later

You carry yourself differently around him. Your back is straighter, chin higher. You keep your hands clasped in front of you at all times. Feyd never made you stand like that, like someone shoved a stick down the back of your dress—your dress, which he hates. 

If you’re going to be dolled up like a present on his birthday, the least his cousin could’ve done was wrap you in colors he likes. Some silver chain or thick, black leather. Not this shimmery golden, flowy fabric of another planet. 

It pisses him off. Showing up in Paul’s clothes, doing your hair up as they do in Kaitain instead of letting it loose around your shoulders, standing as Paul wants you to stand—all of it is like a stamp on the memory of you being taken from him. 

You’re changed, but you no less belong to Feyd than you did before. The real you is still in this new woman somewhere, and he intends to bring you back. 

He’s been planning it for a year. It took him time to gain enough trust from his uncle to be granted full rein of the Harkonnen armies, but all he had to do was prove his ruthlessness and wait until his brother showed himself for the fool he is, and now he has a footing in Arrakis. Complete control over spice production, which he can manipulate from right under his uncle’s nose. Something Paul Atreides wants. 

—

Reader POV

The second he returns from his meeting with Paul, you can feel him. Watching you. Staring. Drinking you in. You try your best to ignore it, but you can’t help but wonder what he sees when he looks at you now. You’re not the same. For a year, you haven’t lived the life Feyd-Rautha made for you, and in that year, you’ve been exposed to the antithesis of that life. Finer clothes, better food, maidservants of your own, physical touch. You’re treated with kindness, and you have been used as you are meant to be used. 

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are any more loved on Kaitain than you were on Giedi Prime. That place is for Chani. She permanently resides in the eye of the emperor, and you, just off to the side. But you’ve come to accept your reality. You’ve made your peace with never being someone’s first choice. What you haven’t made your peace with is Feyd. 

You wish you could say otherwise, but you still have those feelings stirring inside of you. Love, that even after another year of contemplation, you still don’t understand. He never gave you reason to love him. But you couldn’t help yourself. Watching him from a distance was enough. You fell in love with a man you witnessed show leniency and a form of kindness to women who weren’t you while imagining yourself in their place. It was, and is, pathetic. Yet, you continue to love him. And now you’re seeing him again, and he’s just as beautiful. 

You sneak a glance at him. His eyes are still on you. He’s alone, no harpies to his left or right. Your eyes scan the room. No harpies anywhere.

“Are you alright?” Paul asks as he comes from behind you to be at your side. 

“Yes.” No.

Paul takes a sip of his drink. “I know it must be awkward, but are you enjoying the party? I cannot tell by the look on your face.”

“I am.” You’re not. 

In your peripherals, you see him nod. “I have…” he sighs. When you look at him, his head is tipped downward. 

“You always say beauty should not face the floor,” you tell him. 

“I do,” he says with a smile, lifting his head. He takes a deep breath. “I have to tell you something.” An immediate sense of dread fills your gut. “He’s asked for you back.”

Your body freezes, and then your heart begins to thump against the wall of your chest. It pounds with the ferocity of a hundred drums, almost painful in its desperation for freedom, escape. “And?”

Paul’s eyes find yours. You see the silent apology. “I’ve agreed.”

“What!” is a hushed burst of air. You can’t draw attention to yourself, but you know if anyone is already looking your way, the mask of indifference you’re trying to keep on your face won’t fool them.  

“I’m sorry. He offered me something I cannot refuse.” 

You don’t have to ask if that something is truly more than your worth. By the sight of the emperor, it is worth more than ten times your value to him, and you can’t stand in your spot anymore. Your composure is being chiseled away at by the second, but this is not the place to fall apart. The emperor says your name and for the first time, you don’t respond as you walk off. 

Knowing your way around the place, you find a secluded corner just outside the doors of the grand room. Your breathing is uncontrollable. His. You’re going to be his…again. Or you already are. It sounded as if the deal had been made, signed, and done with. You’re not leaving Giedi Prime at the end of the night. You’re not going back to luxury, comfort. You’re staying put. Once again, ignored and treated as a useless object. Once again, a low member on the list of those Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen wants. 

Suddenly, a stream of light blinds you, the muffled voices rise in clarity, and then both are gone. No light. Dimmed voices. You blink. Feyd is in front of you. 

Scoffing, you say, “What do you want?”

He stares at you some more—a long interlude that makes your nerves wiggly under your skin. Then he walks, he enters your space, he puts his hands on your cheeks, and he kisses you. 

The very first kiss. And you wish it was awful. You wish it didn’t send a zingy shiver down your spine or raise the hair on your arms, but your body doesn’t feel like your own as his lips meld with yours. You’re simply along for the ride, taking what he’s giving. 

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on yours. “I should’ve kissed you before,” he says through a ragged breath. “You’re so fucking sweet.” And then he goes in for another kiss. Another kiss that you don’t return because you’re too stunned to do so. 

Coming to your senses, you plant your hands firmly on his chest and shove. He stumbles. The surprise of it doesn’t last long. 

“Don’t,” he snaps. “You’re mine again.”

“Why did you do this?” you spit. 

“I never should have been forced to lose you,” he tells you, but you don’t really hear him as your words continue to tumble out of your mouth at a rapid rate. 

“You don’t need me. I’m a waste to you. You never touched me–”

“I didn’t want to ruin you,” he says. “That’s why–”

“You only touched them–”

“Because you were something pure.”

That, you do hear. “Pure!” you shout. “You liked me pure? If so, then you’ve wasted trading whatever you had to have me back. I’m not pure anymore. And do you know why?”

Feyd’s blue irises darken a shade. “Stop.”

“Because I was his,” you say, a whimper in your throat as you reminisce about the ease of the past year of your life. “And he actually used me.”

“Stop!” He grabs your arm. You fight his grip, but it’s a waste of energy—he’s too strong for you—and then you’re being pulled into the closest room. He tries to press his lips to yours and in that moment of vulnerability, you’re able to pull yourself free from his grasp. 

“Don’t you dare! Go to your harpies.”

“They’re dead,” he says, reaching for you again. You leap back, but he manages to catch you. He pulls you close and your chest slams into his. 

“Why?” you say as you struggle, your body wiggling in the circle of his arms. 

“I killed them when you were taken from me.”

Your spine goes rigid. You blanch. “W-Why?”

Feyd groans as if he’s tired of you playing stupid, as if he’s tired of you wasting his time on ridiculous questions with obvious answers. “Because you made them tolerable. I thought of you whenever I had them, but then you were gone, and I couldn’t think about you without thinking I was never going to have you.”

Your lungs lock in all oxygen, and suddenly, against your will, a crack splits the hard shell of your anger. It’s not so simple to believe what he says. That he always wanted you? That you were too precious for him to touch? You think it’s more likely your appeal increased when he lost control over you, but his words are distracting, too much to comprehend in the limited time you have before he’s kissing you again. This time, you soften in his hold. You kiss him back. 

Your hands slide up his chest to the back of his neck. His mouth moves to your cheek, your jawline, your neck. He bites down on sensitive flesh. His touch trails down your spine, over the swell of your bottom to your thighs, and he lifts you up. 

It’s a few steps to the foreign bed. On your back, you yank up the skirt of your dress as he rips his shirt off and undoes the fasteners of his pants. He pulls them down just enough to free himself. His arms curl under your knees. He jerks your body to the end of the bed. One hand goes to your waist. The other pumps his member twice before he guides himself inside of you. 

It’s not like Paul. Not even close. Thicker. Longer. You watch Feyd where you didn’t watch Paul. Through your own pleasure, you examine his. The pinch of his brow. The parting of his lips. The breath that leaves them—it’s heavy and yet soft. The way he stares at you. Always staring. 

You love him. 

“You will be the only one,” he says. He leans down to connect your lips. “The only one.”

[quimichi]

₊❏❜ ⋮ MEETING THEIR FAMILIES -HEARTSLABYUL VER.

warnings: bad treatment towards reader (Riddles part), bad writing :3

summary: You meet their families

characters: Heartslabyul x F!Reader

word count:

a/n: I originally planned to do all in one part but I decided not to since it's so so much and I'm currently having a writers block but I wanna make you guys happy so-its in parts :(

Riddle

Riddle's mother is a strict woman, and she does not hide her dislike for you. She frowns the moment she sees you and crosses her arms. The situation is tense as she watches you, her gaze sharp and unblinking. She seems to be considering your motives with her son, but it is clear that she has a low opinion of you for some reason.

Riddle is nothing compared to her; he has no power, he's weak standing beside you. Yet, he stands proud, he loves you and no matter what his mother will say, his mind won't change. "Mother," he begins. She shoots a hard look at him. With that stare, she seems to say 'do. not. talk."

Riddle goes silent. He knows that if he does talk, it might ruin her approval...if that will ever happen. But you decided to speak up, nervously, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Riddle has told me so many lovely things of you!" you bow down, showcasing your respect. His mother's expression does not change. She seems to consider you for a while before speaking:

"Do you think yourself worthy of my son? Do you think you are a good match for him?"

It's clear that she is sizing you up, and her gaze is piercing.

"Yes." Riddle grabs your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Showing you his support, no matter what he won't back out either, cause he knows whats coming. Your words only draw a frown from his mother. Her expression turns sour.

"I do not think you can give my son the life he deserves. You are too low class for a nobleman. It is clear why you would date him, but what do you have to offer us? It would disgrace his name and our family to wed a commoner. A magicless commoner!" She continues to size you up. She is relentless. Her frown only hardens with every passing moment.

"My son is a nobleman. He deserves a woman of nobility. Riddle dear, I know the perfect girl for you she-" "No!" His voice rings through the halls with booming thunder.

"How dare you," he shouts, his eyes like daggers. He looks as though every muscle is about to tense up so hard it'll burst. "She is good enough. She is worthy of my love. There is no one in this world who I will ever love and admire more! If you don't agree with this relationship then-!...Then I might just leave.

Riddle is standing protectively in front of you now. His heart is thrumming so hard he can feel each pulse. His last words were spoken unsure, timidly, but it's the truth.

"...Then do."

Trey

Trey's parents are thrilled to meet you. The moment they saw you at their doorstep, they took you into their family. They are gracious hosts, offering you food and drinks as soon as you step into the house. Everything is warm and welcoming. Not to mention the cake they baked for you!

The afternoon tea goes smoothly, with conversation flowing as easily as a river. "Again, thank you so much for the tea and cake! It was absolutely delicious!" "It was nothing," Trey's mother says as she refills your mug. She smiles warmly, keeping herself composed with effort. She has heard a lot about you, after all, and the impression she has received so far has been wonderful. Its hard for her to contain her pure excitement, she might explode. All her husband can do is calm her down with a hand on her shoulder, smiling both at you and his wife.

Trey doesn't dare say anything, his lips pressed shut in a smile as he watches from his place. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, content to watch you and his parents interact.

"BROTHER!" You hear two voices yell from the hallway...seems his siblings arrived from school. Trey's young siblings finally make their grand entrance, their voices filling the room with an unexpected cacophony of excitement and joy. The scene is a chaotic one, but in a good way.

His younger brother runs up to you immediately, "Oh-Oh-! You're the pretty girl-!" Before you can question anything his sister also tunes in, "Ohhh-! She really does look as sweet as gum drops-!" "You two, shush immediately-! I'm so sorry-!" Trey's mother apologizes for the behavior of her youngest children, but you shake it off. How could you ever be upset about the honesty of those sweethearts. You definitely will have a word with Trey once you get back...

Cater

Cater never kept it a secret, how much he despises his sisters and mother sometimes. More than once he told you stories. But he has also told you that slowly, the relationship gets better...slowly.

Cater's mother is especially overbearing. She tries her best, but she seems almost incapable of not adding only their favorite sweets to the tablem. She is a bundle of nerves, and she often dotes on Cater. It's as if she finds comfort in treating him like a child, because he is so quiet and calm. Yeah, quite and calm, if only they knew who he truly was.

"Thank you so much for having me." a genuine smile sets on your lips as she pours tea into your cup. "We are so glad to have you," Cater's mother says with genuine warmth.

His sisters continue to prod you in both questions and comments, being too forceful and tactless at times. They think they're being endearing and curious, but don't quite realize that they're over stepping. Cater sits beside you, his eyes darting back and forth as the questions keep flowing. Hes annoyed, of course they will ask inappropriate questions and take the attention.

"Where was the first kiss?" "Ohhh my god did he use his tounge?" "Cater, your hair today looks frizzy." "You look cute but...that top with those jeans...i don't know. Cater you should really watch what your girlfriend wears!" "Yeah! Spend some money on her, damn." "Bad boyfriend."

The constant barrage of questions and comments from his sisters would make even the most stoic people wither. You are not one of those people - you are more patient than you ever realized. You smile through the barrage of words, answering most that you can, ignoring the rest. It hurts, some hurt. You get Cater now to 100%. Your calm demeanor and soft eyes would calm anyone's heart, but his sisters are a bit too persistent, their endless questioning seeming to have no end.

This goes on for some time, until Cater is visibly agitated. "Stop," he says under his breath. He is usually calm and collected, so it draws everyone's attention, even his mother's. "What?" One of his sisters finally asks, feigning innocence.

"Enough," he says simply, but his tone is enough to get them to back off.

He takes a few breaths before giving his mother and sisters a smile. The situation diffuses, but you can sense that he is annoyed. "I just wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, we didnt came here for an interview. Her outfit is perfect, and I'm NOT a bad boyfriend! I know I'm not..."

Ace

Ace's older brother is charming, witty, and well-liked by everyone. He teases his little brother without any cruelty, making lighthearted jokes at his expense. He is very protective of Ace, he just wants his little brother to be happy. And obviously he wants him to behave in this relationship too.

"He has spoken of you a lot," the older brother comments, his tone teasing. His brother wiggles his eyebrows towards him,  "A bit too much, it seems," Ace says, keeping his voice low, but you hear the annoyance.

"I can't help but hear all about you whenever he's calling me... how much he cares for you, how he's so lucky to have you..." his brother's tone is good-natured. He's just having fun, and hes so glad his brother found true happiness. "Ohh, what else did you say?" Ace can hear the teasing in your voice, no way you're going into this too. "Shut up-!" "Oh, you know," the older brother laughs. "He says you are the sweetest, most beautiful being in the whole wide world. You're an angle with the patience you have for him. He would do anything for you without a second thought. He swears he has never loved another as he has you."

"What a mushy little guy my brother can be," his older brother says, sounding amused.

Ace is turning red. His voice comes out slightly strained, cracking. "I-! I NEVER-! Shut up I never said anything like that, that's way to sappy!" "Mhmmmm, sure bro, sure" His older brother smiles, genuinely.

"I've never seen him so happy," he says, "He's truly a good guy, he just has some rough edges. I'm glad someone like you took their time to get to know him...Take care of him for me."

Deuce

His mother beams. "Oh! This is the one you've been telling me about? You've done well. She is a beauty!"

Deuce's face is tomato red. He is the picture of nervousness, his eyes darting about the room with his mouth clamped shut for fear that he will say too much or too little. His mother's enthusiastic and effusive approach is overwhelming him. He wants to sink into the floor, damning himself for telling his mother and grandmother about you so much. "We are so delighted to have you here. Please," his mother continues, offering you her seat. "Sit, sit! No need to stand around!"

She smiles widely at you as she gestures to a plush chair across from them. A low table separates you, and the three of you are arranged across from one another. Deuce's grandmother walks slowly behind his mother, bearing a tray of tea and pastries in her hands. Without a word, she sits down and quietly offers one of the small cakes to you.

She doesn't take her eyes away from you, smiling wide. You can't help but smile back at her, but before you can thank her she leans closer to Deuce mother. "Perfect aren't they? I knew someone wil eventually see that our Deuce is a catch." She wasn't as discreet as she thought she was, but you can only agree with her, Deuce is a catch.

"Thank you so much-!" "It's nothing, dear," she says, her voice soft as velvet. His mother breaks the silence, leaning forward in her seat. "Now then, tell us all about yourselves. We have heard plenty from our son, but we want to hear from you."

Deuce is paralyzed. He has nothing ready to say. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding in his chest. Although he is more than happy both his most loved family members love you, he is still nervous. It's embarrassing! "Wait-!" His grandmother immediately stands up from her seat. She disappears and reappears with a thick photo album. She settles back down and opens it.

"Now, let me show you my handsome boy when he was young. I think this is a much better idea!"

Deuce's head falls back, someone kill him. His heart stops at the pictures of himself....fuck...he's naked....