#like i enjoy doing things on my own i do not want company unless i ask for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leeknow-thoughts · 8 months ago

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୨୧ POMEGRANATE

𝝑𝝔 son of Hades!Chris x mortal!fem!reader

𝝑𝝔 cw : forced marriage, coercion, kidnapping, Hades is an asshole, Chris isn't an asshole, Soft!Dom!Chris, Sub!Reader, daddy kink, dd/lg, fingering (r. rec), innocence kink, oral (r. rec), spanking, oral fixation, inexperienced! reader, d/s dynamics, age play (not super extreme), p in v, creampie (use protection!!), pussy spanking, pet names, degrading kink, praise kink, bulge kink, lmk if I missed anything!!

𝝑𝝔 hyung line Greek gods m.list | maknae line Greek gods m.list

You were always too busy to think about having boyfriends and sex and things that were normal for women of your age. You never thought it was weird how you avoided romance, even in your teenage years. You thought romance was stupid, and it would just get in the way of your goals.

You busted your ass to graduate valedictorian in college, countless sleepless nights and study sessions is what your life consisted of for four whole years.

You reminisced about your hard work every single day that you worked this stupid low level job. You worked for the largest construction company in the country, Erebus Construction Enterprises. It was owned by one of the wealthiest families in the nation, the Bahngs, the oldest son of the family being the current CEO and his father being the head chairman of the company.

"Y/n," your coworker snaps you out of your trance, "hey, there you are, the team was going to go get drinks tonight? Do you wanna join?"

"No thanks," you reject, "I have a project I have to complete."

Your coworker gives you a look of sympathy before grabbing her coat and clocking out.

You refocus on your project as the desks next to you become empty, workers clocking out, hoping to enjoy their long weekend. Not you though, you still had to finish typing up a paper for the marketing team and make a slideshow for the next accounting meeting.

Hours passed by as you kept typing on your computer. "You know work hours ended-," a voice begins, you snap your head up to look at the man who said it, you find a man in an all black uniform staring at you, he checks his watch, "- five hours ago," the man finishes.

"I'm just finishing up a paper and a slideshow for a meeting we have next Tuesday," you explain to the man.

You take a moment to stretch, leaning back in your rolling chair. "Your name is?" the man asks.

"Y/n Y/l/n," you introduce yourself.

"Ah, just wanted to be sure," the man says.

It takes you a moment to register what he said and reply with, "wait what do you mean?"

"Follow me," he instructs.

When you don't follow after him he stops in his tracks, approaches you again and gives you a stern warning, "you should do what you're told, now come," he grabs your arm.

He drags you out into the hallway and the more you try to squirm and get away from him, the tighter his grip on your hand is. He pulls you into the elevator and presses one of the red buttons on the bottom.

You watch as the sign on the elevator changes from 'elevator' to 'hellevator'. "You might want to hold onto something," the man in black warns.

"Wha-" you begin.

Suddenly you're falling, well the elevator is falling. You scream as it plummets down. You don't know where it's taking you but your stomach sinks more every second you're falling.

Suddenly the elevator halts, and you have no time to brace yourself as you hit the floor. "Don't say I didn't warn you," the man chuckles lowly.

"What the fuck!" you scream, "what the fuck is this place!?"

"It's just hell, honey," he says the answer like it's obvious.

"What?" You look at him with shock and disbelief.

The elevator dings before the doors swing open, "don't go to the basement unless you want to meet Cerberus," the man gives a final warning before grabbing your purse and pulling out a quarter, "there that covers your fine," he hands me back my bag.

"My fine?" You question.

"You just crossed the River Styx, honey, I'm the ferryman," he says it like it's obvious.

You are given no warning before he pushes you out of the elevator, you try to run back inside, but the doors close before you can. You slide against the wall and cry.

You were in hell?

But why?

Ferryman? Cerberus? Like in Greek mythology, the spirit who helps the dead cross the River Styx, and the giant three-headed dog?

Your head fell into your hands and you tried to make sense of the whole situation. A tap on your shoulder causes you to look up, "please- just let me go home!" you plead through a sob.

The woman in front of you holds out her hand for you to take, when you don't take it she grabs your hand and pulls you with her.

She pulls you into a large dining room, the table is set with a collection of magnificent foods, there are four seats, none of them are full.

All of the windows are covered with curtains and the only light source in the room comes from the many candles scattered around the room.

The woman pulls you to one of the seats, and makes you sit down on the leather surface. "Who are you? Let me go!" you try and push the woman off you.

"Tch tch tch, silly girl," a deep voice scolds, "she's dead, she can't speak."

You look to find where the voice comes from, you find the man who spoke standing in a doorway. He wore a simple back suit with perfectly polished leather shoes and a clean haircut.

"Servant," he calls to the woman holding your wrist, "go fetch Chris and Persephone."

The woman bows to the man and lets go of your wrist before leaving out the door she brought you through. "Y/n Y/l/n," he says your name.

He crosses the space from the doorway to the seat directly in front of the one you were sat in. "Who-what are you?" you stutter.

"Well you could call me the devil, but I am not nearly as evil as him," he looks at you like you should know this like it is obvious and you should've known all along, "did the Ferryman not explain to you where you were?" he asks as he takes off the black blazer, placing it on the back of his chair.

"He just said we crossed the River Styx," you recall to the man.

"I see, still-," he pauses and opens a bottle of what looks like red wine before pouring it into one of the wine glasses, "you're a very intelligent young lady, I assume you realized where you were on your own."

"Why am I here?" I ask the man.

"Well it's a really long story, it started off with my nephew, he was given a message for me by these three old hags- that are referred to as the Fates. So being the messenger God and all, my nephew- Hermes- brought their letter to me," he takes a sip of the win before he continues, "imagine my surprise when that letter tells me the name of my eldest son's fated wife, and it turns out being your name. One of the new accounting hires," he man cocks his head.

"Y-you know me?" you mutter.

He hears you clearly though, "I know of every soul to exist, yes I know of you."

"W-why is this happening?" you inquire.

The man sighs, "like I said, you're fated to marry my oldest son," he replies.

"I-I c-can't be," you choke out, trying not to sob.

"Well unfortunately for you, you are," the man says dryly.

"S-so you're the devil?" I ask.

The man smirks, "Hades actually, Satan works in Tartarus exclusively," he explains.

"Hello darling," a woman says from the doorway.

She is utterly stunning, a small frame and dark brown eyes with red rosy cheeks and plump lips. "Hello Persephone," the man-Hades-greets.

The woman walks to your seat and wraps her arms around you, "hello y/n," she says as she hugs you tenderly.

Your words are caught in the back of your throat, "P-persephone?" you somehow are able to mumble.

"That's me, dear," she breaks away from you and walks to the other side of the table, sliding into the seat next to Hades.

"Where's Chris?" Hades asks her.

"He's in one of his moods, you know he doesn't want to do this, darling," Persephone says softly.

Hades rolls his eyes and whistles, within a millisecond a large wolf with red eyes is sitting beside your chair, "go get Chris," Hades tells the ferocious looking dog.

The dog trots away, out the doorway. "Oh, y/n dear, help yourself to the food," Persephone says gently.

You look at the meal prepared on the table in front of you. "B-but I d-don't want to have to stay here like you do," you confess to the woman.

"Don't worry about that dear, besides that whole myth is just a lie, Hades didn't force me to live down here," Persephone calmly corrected.

"Yeah, but he coerced you, I read the story, you were kidnapped by him and Zeus and they brought you down here and you accidentally ate a pomegranate and now you have to stay down here for 3 months every year," you clear your throat then continue, "and those 3 months are known as winter because your mother, Demeter, won't tend to the crops, that's why they all die."

"You haven't the slightest idea of what truly happened," Persephone says firmly, "I chose to stay with Hades on my own volition, winter happens because my mother takes a break during those three months. And Hades and his brother never kidnapped me."

Your mouth falls slightly agape as you listen to her.

"Oh," you say when she finishes talking.

"Yeah," she clears her throat.

"Dad, I told you," a voice comes from the doorway, you turn to look at the man, he was handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes, "I'm not doing this," he continues.

"You don't have a choice," Hades tells him, "now, sit."

The man reluctantly takes the seat next to you, and gives you a quick glance. "Y/n you really should eat," Persephone insists, "it's very good."

"Do you promise me that if I eat I won't be stuck here for forever," you ask her.

"You won't be stuck here forever," she promises.

You hesitantly reach across the table and grab a serving of the food, putting it on your plate and taking a small bite.

The food was delicious, the best you've had in your life. "It's good isn't it?" Persephone asks.

"The best," you compliment.

"Well, Chris, aren't you going to say anything to her?" Hades asks the man next to you.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I don't want to get married."

Hades' first slams onto the table, "Chris that is enough. You know your fate, she knows hers. There is not a choice in this matter," his voice booms.

Persephone gently rubs circles on Hades' shoulder, trying to calm him. "Y/n," she begins, "once dinner is over, you and Chris will be going back to his house, it's just a short boat ride away, if you would like anything you can write to Hephaestus," she explains.

"What about my apartment? And my job?" you ask.

"This is your home now," Hades says, rubbing his temple, "you can visit Earth anytime you like, but you must come back here before dark."

A clock on the wall chimes ten times, "well it is time for you two to go," Hades instructs Chris and you.

Chris sits up and looks at you before extending his hand for you to take. He senses your caution and smiles at you, trying to make you feel more calm.

"Go with him now, y/n, or else," Hades warns.

You hesitantly take his hand and he swiftly leads you out of the dining room and through the house, he opens the front door and steps out with you, the same man that brought you down here is standing on a boat that is floating in that is floating on a glowing surface.

Chris lifts you up onto the boat before climbing in himself. "Where to?" the ferryman asks.

"666 Hellside lane," Chris says to the man.

Chris pulls a coin out of his pocket and hands it to the man. The ferryman begins rowing the boat and you and Chris just stand in silence.

You take in the scenery, large pits of fire with people burning in them next to large pits with meadows and people running around happily. You look into the large pit of fire, seeing the pain and agony on the people's faces as they burn, you reach out for them, wanting to help but a firm grasp on your extended wrist stops you from being able to reach them. "Don't," Chris warns.

"They're suffering," you try to plead with him, pleading for people you don't even know.

"And for a good fucking reason, they lived evil lives," Chris explains.

"B-but they were still just people," you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Bad people," Chris reminds you, "the morals of your world don't always apply down here, but I know for a fact that all the souls in that burning pit deserve to be down there, burning."

You blink at the man, "is that where I'll go? Will you send me there?"

"Never," he replies immediately, "in no reality would I make you suffer like them."

"W-would your father s-send me there?" you ask with teary eyes at the thought.

Chris gently cups your face, "don't worry about my father, I won't let him hurt you."

You nod and Chris wipes a tear that had fallen with his thumb.

The boat stopped and Chris got off first, he lifted you up and helped you down off the boat afterwards. You looked up at the large house in front of you. Ornate and beautiful on the outside. Chris opened the front door and you walked in before he closed the door behind the two of you.

The living room was magnificent, high ceilings with stained glass windows, a large couch in the middle and a fireplace across from it. "Woah," you gawk.

After a moment of silence, Chris speaks, "your room is down there," he points down the hallway with one door at the end.

"My room?" you ask.

"Yeah," he says softly, "all yours," he smiles.

"B-but what about you?" you ask.

"My room is upstairs, it's the first room on the right," he informs.

"Oh," you say.

"Yeah, just make yourself comfortable and if there's anything you need, I'll just be in my room or in my office," he explains softly.

He starts to walk away, "wait!" you call to him, he turns around and looks at you, "my cats, Cookie a-and Oreo- they're still on Earth, I-I don't want them to be lonely or g-go hungry," you tell him.

"I'll go get them for you," he instantly replies.

"They can come down here?" you ask enthusiastically.

Chris walks to you and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, "of course they can, I do have a dog though, but she's really friendly, her name is Berry, she's probably playing outside," he tells you, "I'll go and get your cats and bring them back here."

"O-okay, t-thank you," you thank him.

He smiles softly and leaves out the front door. You stand there for a moment, not knowing what to do with yourself, before you decide to check out your bedroom.

You open the door and look around, it looked similar to your bedroom back on Earth. You opened one of the doors in the room to see a huge walk in closet. Multiple floors tall and full of any types of clothes you could think of.

You open another door to see a whole on-suite bathroom. With a huge shower and a jacuzzi tub.

You walk back into the closet, looking for a pair of pajamas. You find a key pad with many buttons, you cautiously press the button that says 'sleepwear' and the closet starts to move around.

The many racks of clothing shuffle around for a moment before the sliding doors open, revealing all kinds of pajamas.

You opt for a blue matching silk pajama set, you slip the clothes on and decide to look around the house that was now yours. You opened one of the large doors that lead to a large grassy area that was fenced in with a metal gate. You take a seat on the back porch, close your eyes, and try to wrap your mind around the day you had.

You hear a dog bark beside you and you open your eyes to see a dog with three heads staring at you. Your first reaction is to scream, not used to the supernatural sight. But one of the dog's heads starts licking your face, making you burst into a fit of laughter.

You sit up and look at the small dog, you look at the large collar around it's neck and read the name. "Berry," you say the dog's name out loud.

The dog perks up and jumps into your lap, "hi, Berry," you coo, "aren't you gorgeous," you say as you pet her.

You sit with the three-headed dog until you hear the back door open, Chris leaning against the door frame carrying your two cats, one in each hand.

Berry rushes to Chris' side, her tail wagging a mile a minute.

You sit up and walk to Chris, gently taking your cat, Oreo, from his arms, give Oreo a kiss and gently pet him. "Thank you," you thank Chris again.

"Don't mention it," he smiles.

You step inside and Chris closes the door behind the two of you. You put Oreo down on the ground and Berry begins sniffing the black and white cat. You turn back to Chris and he hands you your Tortoiseshell cat, Cookie.

You kiss Cookie before you put her on the ground, Berry sniffing her now as well. "You really aren't like your dad," you figure, talking about Chris.

"I hope I'm not," he chuckles lowly, he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, "you should get some sleep," he suggests, "we can talk more in the morning okay?"

He walks you to your room, "wake me up if you ever need anything," he says softly.

You step into your room and Chris closes the door. You hear his footsteps as he walks away from the door.

You did try to sleep, you really did. But you found yourself tossing and turning on the large bed rather than sleeping.

You contemplate waking Chris up for a good ten minutes before deciding you would just watch something on the TV in the living room.

You sat up and walked into the living room, you sat on the large, black, leather couch and grabbed the remote, turning on the TV.

You flipped through channels until you settled on a random channel in a random language you couldn't understand.

"Y/n?" you hear Chris' voice.

You watch the man as he walks down a pair of stairs, rubbing his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants and a pair of red slippers.

"What're you doing up?" he asks softly.

"C-couldn't sleep," you explain quietly.

"O-oh," he hums, walking back up to his bedroom.

Eventually you passed out on the couch, waking up from a nightmare. It took you a moment to fully realize where you were, but you ruled out the fact that you just had a bad dream when you looked around the ornate living room, remembering all that had happened.

A knock on the door made you snap your head up. You hesitantly walk to the door, opening it to reveal Persephone along with a group of servants. "Oh, hello honey!" she muses before stepping into the house as if it was hers.

"W-what are you doing here?" you ask in the most polite way you can.

"Well it's your wedding day!" she announces like it's obvious.

"M-my wh-what?"

"Oh dear, don't play dumb! C'mon we need to get you fitted for a dress," she hums.

She drags you by your arm to your room before practically pulling your clothes off, only leaving you in your underwear. You try to cover yourself but she is swatting your hands away as the servants begin taking your measurements with measuring tapes. "Do you like the color black?" Persephone asks as a servant shows her different fabrics and colors.

"I-I-it's okay?"

"And do you like glitter?"

"N-not really."

"Dear," she scolds, "you should be serious about this, we have the Christian Dior working on this."

"Christian Dior?"

"Yes the owner and founder of Dior-"

"I know who Christian Dior is b-but why?"

"Well your wedding should be perfect!" she exclaims.

"Mom," Chris' voice comes from the door to your room.

"You're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony!" Persephone whines.

"I understand you're excited, but go easy on y/n m'kay? She is scared," he points out and looks at you.

"Oh, c'mon it's just marriage!"

"Mom," he says more firmly, "it's marriage."

"Oh fine," Persephone huffs, "y/n what are your favorite flowers by the way? My brother is going to make us some!"

"Felix is coming?" Chris asks.

"All of Olympus is coming!" Persephone cackles.

"Olympus!" you shriek, "I'm going to pass out!"

Chris lunges forward to support you and keep you standing while his mother and her servants are whispering and talking amongst themselves. "Here, let's get you in some clothes," Chris figures.

If you were naive you would think he's being kind, but honestly you don't know if you can afford to be naive at the moment.

Chris walks to the closet and grabs a pair of clothes and hands them to you. You swiftly pull them on before Persephone is grabbing your hand and pulling you into a seat. One of her servants pulling out a makeup bag and slapping a primer on your skin. "Chris!" An unfamiliar voice calls.

You turn your head to see a blonde boy with freckles standing in the doorway calling to your soon to be husband. "Felix, hey man," Chris says, embracing the man-Felix.

"Oh hey, you must be y/n! Nice to meet you! I'm Demeter's son! Gosh it is scorching down here!" he exclaims and fans himself with his hand.

"Well it's almost like it's hell," you retort.

"Well yeah, dear Zeus, Persephone how can you love someone so much to stay down here for as long as you do!" he exclaims.

"Well you know how much I love Hades," she chuckles to her brother.

You sit still as the servants begin styling your hair and applying your makeup.

"Is Zeus coming?" Chris asks.

"No! Silly! He is far too busy! But he's sending Hyunjin on his behalf," Persephone announces.

"Persephone, the dress is done!" one of the servants says.

"Oh lovely! Y/n look at this! Isn't it stunning!" Persephone calls and shows you the large black ballgown dress.

"Y-yeah, beautiful," you shrug as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

"It's so beautiful she's crying isn't that sweet!" Persephone proclaims.

You feel so claustrophobic in the room, as you try to bite down your tears. "Mom," Chris starts, "she is crying because she doesn't want to do this."

"Christopher!" Persephone shouts, "she will deal with it! As will you! This is destiny!"

"You don't have to like your destiny!" Chris' voice booms.

You can't help but mentally compare him to his father, they yell the same way. Chris has a better temper but they both can hate the same way.

"Ok," Felix breaks the tension, "Seph why don't you go and get ready I'll watch over them."

Your eyes go wide as you watch Persephone leave the room in a huff. "Sorry you had to hear that y/n," Felix apologizes for his sister and his nephew, "they both have quite a temper."

You turn your head back and wait until the servants finished your makeup and hair.

Chris and Felix eventually left when it was time for you to put on the wedding dress, saying they'd meet you at the venue.

You slipped on the dress in silence and one of the servants tightened the corset on the back.

The boat ride to the venue was silent, only thanking the ferryman and handing him a silver coin when he dropped you off.

"Hi my dear," an old woman greets you at the gate of the garden you were dropped off at, "my name is Clotho, I'm one of the Fates, my sisters are busy today but they give you and Chris their blessing!"

"Please tell Lachesis to cut my time short, I don't want to do this," you plead to the old woman.

"Dear," she coughs, "you'll be immortal once you marry him, it's not like she can do anything."

"I would rather die," you comment.

"I shouldn't tell you your fate, but you do fall in love with him, may as well let it happen," she whispers to you.

Your eyes widen in shock and she holds your hand walking you down the aisle in the garden.

A piano playing a tune in the background as you walk down the aisle with the woman.

Chris is waiting at the end of the aisle and you see Hades standing at the center.

You cry as you stand up there and Hades pronounces you married. Not wanting this to be your fate.

"You may kiss the bride," Hades instructs Chris.

Chris rolls his eyes before gently cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss that lasts only a second.

You sob on the boat ride back to your house, mascara running down your face. You run to your bedroom and cry into the pillows. Crying until you feel like throwing up.

You had been living in the same house as Chris for a few days, and you finally were able to sleep in your bed at night.

A knock on your door is what woke you up, you sat up and rubbed your eyes while the door creaked open, "y/n," Chris calls out to you.

"Mhm," you grunt sleepily.

"Hey, I got you a present," he explains.

You rise up out of bed and let Chris lead you to where the present is. He has you sit down on the couch and close your eyes and you feel a weight being put on your extended hands. "Okay, you can open your eyes now," Chris says.

You slowly open your eyes and look at the box in your hands, you look up at him before you open the pretty black box. You look at the ticket stubs for a moment, and read the text. Concert tickets, for your favorite band.

"D'you like them? I don't want this marriage as much as you, but I figured a wedding gift wouldn't hurt that much?" Chris asks.

"Like them? Chris-" the words are caught in your throat, "I love them," you smile.

"I-I got you two, that way you can go with one of your friends on earth," he grins.

"I- thank you," you thank him, you throw your arms around him in a warm embrace.

"Of course, y/n, anything to make you feel a bit better," he says dutifully.

Chris showed you over and over again that he would give you anything and everything your heart would desire.

From making a whole art studio in your shared house because you once mentioned that you liked painting during a dinner conversation.

To giving you a phone so you could talk to your friends who were on Earth.

There was no doubt, he cared for you. And you couldn't help but care for him as well.

"Guess who," you peek your head into Chris' office.

He was sitting at his desk with papers laid out over the surface.

"Hey, sweet girl," he hums when he sees you.

He motions you over and you obey, he taps his thigh for you to sit on, and you do. His arm rests on your waist, and you watch as he works. "What'cha doin?" you ask him.

"Finishing up some paperwork for the company," he explains, "did you need anything, honey?" he asks.

You shake your head, "no, jus' wanted to be close to you," you confess.

Chris cocks a brow, "yeah?" he coos gently.

You nod, "yeah, I like being around you."

A smile breaks out onto his face and he turns his full attention to you. "I like being around you too," he confesses.

Later that night you find yourself in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You felt hot all over as you thought about Chris, how caring he was, how handsome he was, how dominant he was.

You hadn't felt that way before, what were you supposed to do? That was the first night you felt the intense wanting for Chris. And it certainly wasn't your last.

Every night for the next week you'd think of Chris, you would feel tingly all over, to the point where it drove you crazy. You didn't know what to do with this feeling that was coming from your cunt.

You knock on the door to Chris' bedroom, you hear footsteps before Chris opens up the door, "honey, hey what's going on?" he asks when he sees the tears in your eyes, concern laced in his voice.

"I feel weird," you sniffle.

"Oh, sweet girl," he coos, he gently pulls you into his room and pulls you onto his chest, "tell me what's going on?" he requests.

"I just keep feeling weird, a-and I d-dunno what t'do," you confess.

"Feel weird where?" he inquires.

Your face goes red and you whisper to him, "my- y'know."

He looks at you for a moment before breaking out into a fit of laughter, you swat at him, "I'm being serious!" you whine.

"You haven't like-" he pauses, "masturbated before?"

You shake your head no, and watch as his face breaks out into a look of realization. You tuck your head into his chest as blush creeps onto your face. "Hey, shh, it's okay honey, don't be embarrassed," Chan reassures.

He tilts your chin up so you're looking at him, "whatever you want, I'll give it to you," he hums, his thumb gently caressing your chin.

"Daddy," the words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Chris groans before pulling you in for a gentle kiss, he quickly pulls away before looking in your eyes again. He only looks at you momentarily before pulling you back in for another, more heated, kiss.

That night Chris watched as you touched yourself, gently talking you through the new feelings and watching as you writhed around on his bed from the pleasure.

You heard the front door open and sprung up from your place on the couch to see Chris walk inside. He had just gotten back from work. He looked exhausted from the day's activities. "Chri-" you begin but he cuts you off by crossing the space between the two of you and slamming his lips onto yours.

"Daddy-" you mumble against his lips.

"Hmm?" Chris hums.

"Wanna help you relax," you mutter.

"Just let me kiss you honey," he insists, "let me give you special kisses."

"Special kisses?"

"Yeah," he hums, he pulls your pants down without warning.

Staring at your cunt, he gently kisses your mound over your panties. "I'm the only one who can kiss you here, you understand?" he growls.

"Yes," you whine.

Chris pulls your panties to the side before placing a tender kiss on your clit.

You moan and your fingers run through his hair, "that's a good girl," Chris hums.

You feel two of his fingers press into your entrance and you squirm around due to the unfamiliar sensation. "Daddy," you whine.

Chris' plump lips keep sucking on your clit while one of his fingers pistons in and out of your cunt. One finger turns into two, two into three, until you're gushing all over his face without a chance to warn him.

"That's it," he coos, "such a sweet little pussy," he groans, fingering you through your orgasm.

He places a kiss above your mound before slapping your pussy. You jolt at the contact and watch as Chris sits up and pulls his pants down.

"Here you go honey, gonna give you a treat for being a good little girl for me," he muses.

He strokes his fat cock in front of you before lining it up at your soaking entrance. "Daddy-" you whine.

"Daddy's here, don't worry babydoll," he hums as he pushes into you.

You squirm around as you feel more and more of his cock enter you. "That's it, take it like the slut that you are," Chris spits.

The only thing leaving your mouth at this point is broken cries of Chris' title. Chris sets a menacingly fast pace, pounding into you with your legs thrown over his shoulders.

You feel as his hands run down your stomach, stopping on your lower tummy, "I can fucking feel myself inside you," Chris comments.

You move your hand down and feel the area where his cock is bulging in and out of you. "Oh my god!" you scream as you cum around him.

"That's it, atta girl," he praises, "let me fill you up, let daddy pump a baby into his sweet little girl."

"Yes," you whine, "f-fuck a baby into me w-wan' you t'fill me up please!" you beg.

Chris' movements become sporadic and you start to feel his hot cum seeping into you. He keeps fucking into you as he cums, making sure you take each last drop of his seed.

Honestly, hell wasn't even hotter than Christopher Bahng.

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz #stray kids x you #skz x reader #stray kids #bang chan smut #christopher bang #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bangchan x reader #buns.skzgreekgod!au #bun.writes : channie

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cybrasigilism · 27 days ago

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Three’s Company (Thanos/Choi Su-bong + Nam-gyu X Reader Drabble)

characters: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230), nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: wanted to do a thanos/nam-gyu threesome thing that isnt just doublepen bc i’m lowkey tired. gotta love these maniacs though. THIS IS A DRABBLE WRITTEN IN POINT FORM/HEADCANON FORMAT FYI

MDNI! 18+ content below the cut, readers discretion is advised

➣ if these two are both fucking you, it usually involves you sucking thanos’s dick while nam-gyu plays with your pussy. the positioning is interchangeable, however if it’s nam-gyu’s dick you’ve got between your lips, trust he will have a firm hold on your head as he fucks your face.

➣ these two are big on voyeurism, typically it’s thanos fucking you while nam-gyu watches. however, thanos will happily sit back and watch as you ride his best friend

➣ while you give thanos head, nam-gyu will not be letting you cum unless you beg for it. he’s gonna be a complete asshole about it too, and you can bet that thanos will play along

“so rude, talking with your mouth full.. you need to teach your bitch some manners before she can cum on my fingers”

“ y’ gotta speak up señorita, we can’t understand you like this-“

➣ during foreplay, you can expect to be sandwiched between them. these two will also be equally fiending for your attention, picture something like nam-gyu kissing your neck as he gropes your tits through your shirt, all while you make out with thanos as he grabs your ass

➣ sometimes when thanos has you bent over, nam-gyu will taunt you from the front. kissing you, biting your bottom lip, leaving hickeys where he can on your neck, you name it he’s doing whatever he can to make sure you don’t put all of your attention on thanos

➣ they both love when you make out with one of them while you ride the other one’s face

➣ whether its nam-gyu or thanos plowing you, you can bet you’re leaving with bite marks all over your neck, tits, stomach, thighs and occasionally your ass

➣ will degrade you to each other, or even just in general

“shit, you told me she was a slut but i didn’t think it was this bad”

“fuck, you love when we use you like the cheap bitch you are, don’t you—“

“bet she was thinking of doing this all day huh, the pathetic little whore.” “better fuck her ‘till she can’t think about anything else then, if she wants to be so dirty minded”

➣ the aftercare is in fact a cuddle-pile, why do you ask? typically only after a particularly rough session though

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

i had way too much fun with this i fear, its been an idea brewing in my noggin for a minute now so i’m hoping you guys enjoy, even if it isn’t a request!

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a great night/day lovelies 💋

tags: @kouzih @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @gabbystinks @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

#squid game 2 #squid game #squid game smut #squid game x reader #x reader smut #x reader fanfiction #player 230 #player 124 #player 230 x reader #player 124 x reader #nam gyu #thanos #thanos x reader #fanfiction

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whatswrongwithblue · 10 months ago

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Alastor Headcannons

Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon

SFW

Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.

Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.

The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.

He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.

That blew up in his face – almost literally.

He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.

But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.

PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.

The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.

Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.

Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.

In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.

His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.

He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.

In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.

Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.

He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.

He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.

He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.

If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.

He would never ever lay a hand on you.

If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.

Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.

At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.

He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.

Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.

That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.

It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.

He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.

He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.

Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.

NSFW

Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.

He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.

Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.

But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.

For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.

Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.

But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.

He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.

If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.

It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.

He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.

You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.

He gets very excited when you’re in heat.

It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.

The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.

He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.

He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.

He does bite.

And slap your ass.

He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.

His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.

And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.

That’s when he dirty talks.

And that’s when he really gets rough.

You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.

And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.

They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.

And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.

He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.

You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little . . . big.

Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.

One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.

Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.

He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.

He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.

Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.

(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my new OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons

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fairyysoup · 2 months ago

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sever the blight

(steve's version) (repost)

pairing(s): werewolf!steve harrington x fem!aristocrat!reader

summary: Steve is your bodyguard. You are engaged to another man. It all seems very cut and dry until a fatal accident traps you alone with him on a full moon.

word count: 11.2k

cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking!!!, loss of virginity, graphic depictions of violence, blood, gore, minor character death, animal death, horror elements, dark themes, historical au, fairy tale au, some sort of historical fantasy period, idk which one you tell me, forbidden romance, mutual pining, possessive behavior, misogynistic views on sex and marriage, animalistic behavior, marking, scenting, knotting, breeding kink, werewolf transformation, werewolf bites, again steve is a werewolf the reader is fucking a werewolf and all that entails, dead dove: do not eat

a/n: hiiiii this was originally posted in two separate parts, but as it was actually meant to be a one-shot when I started writing it, i've reposted it as one here. I'm sorry lol

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

"Fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems." -Angela Carter, The Company of Wolves

“Please, don’t do this.”

The hum of crickets at twilight surrounds you as you step out of the inn, into warm summer air. The soft muslin of your underskirts turn heavy with the humidity, as you watch your governess, Miss Fontaine, charge ahead toward the carriage. Already prepared for your departure, the driver twitches his thumbs in anticipation.

You watch her turn to face the only other member of your traveling party with a perturbed sigh. “And lose more time? If we ride through the night we can make Kensworth by morning.”

You feel a heat on the back of your neck before you turn to see him emerge from the shadows, the deep green of his coat highlighting the little bit of jade in his hazel eyes. Steven. Steve. The huntsman. Your guard. You don’t know much about him, aside from that he’s from this region. He’d made his living as a huntsman before your father, favoring Steve for his discretion and propriety, hired him as a personal bodyguard. Your very own knight in shining armor, if you wanted to be romantic about it.

He’s the only man you’ve ever met who manages to make you nervous while simultaneously making you feel invariably safe. Like, as long as he’s around, you know that nothing will dare to hurt you. And nothing will make your heart race beneath your bodice quite the same as he does.

Still, months of his protection haven’t taught you anything about who he is, and it seems like he wants it that way. You know only the things that you’ve picked up by being around him- he prefers ale over wine, fiddles with his hair when he’s nervous, and he enjoys doing people favors. He has a goofy sense of humor. He’s kind, and gentle when he speaks.

Unless he’s arguing with your domineering governess. Like now, for instance.

“You don’t know these woods like I do,” he insists, his voice unnaturally low, nearly a growl as he looms over you on the doorstep of the inn. He stands too close to you, his eyes burning fire as he peers at Miss Fontaine, and then down at you, making your hands shake behind your skirts. His tone softens, “My lady, listen to me and wait for the night. Let the moon wane before we leave.”

You open and close your mouth, looking from Steve to Miss Fontaine. To his obvious annoyance, your governess is already shaking her head at you before he finishes talking. God, you wish you knew what to say to assuage them both. But, ultimately, the choice isn’t up to you. It never is.

“I can’t spare the time. The Duke will already be upset that I’m arriving late to my own wedding.” The words feel flat in your mouth, like a script written by someone else. Truly, you’re running late as it is, days late, all because an avalanche laid waste to the only route out of town, keeping you at your latest stop and delaying your journey beyond repair.

“Your fiancé won’t be happy to know you’re putting yourself at risk to make up for lost time.” Steve spits the word fiancé like a curse, like he’d rather not acknowledge the man’s existence at all. You let it slide; after all, you’re not particularly taken with the idea, either.

You haven’t met him- your fiancé. You know him even less than you know your faithful bodyguard. You only know his face from a painting you were gifted, and his name- not from any sort of correspondence, mind you, but because the betrothal is a big deal, considering he’s a duke. And that would make you, of a sort, a future duchess. Or so Miss Fontaine keeps reminding you.

She raises one petulant eyebrow, now, at your protector. “You’d have us force the Duke to wait at the altar?”

Steve’s eyes darken. “If he cares for the lady at all, he’ll be relieved to know that you did the pragmatic thing and waited to travel-”

“Don’t lecture me about pragmatism-”

“I’m trying to protect her!”

“Protect her, then!” Short of stamping your foot, there’s nothing you can do but stand by as they argue back and forth. “That is your job. Not presuming to call orders. You are a guard, not an advisor.”

Steve glowers at her, his big eyes glinting dangerously in the lamplight from the carriage. “You don’t know-”

“But you do, correct?” You stare up at Steve with wide eyes, while he cocks his head, looking at Miss Fontaine as if trying to find the best and fastest way to get rid of her. She snaps, “I’d expect a huntsman to know a thing or two about traveling in the woods at night.”

She doesn’t wait for his reply. She lifts her skirts and steps into the carriage without waiting for the driver’s hand, all but slamming the door behind her. That’s the end of that.

You move to follow her, but a hand brushes your own, behind your back. You nearly jump out of your own skin at the touch- your blood boils, and your stays grow heavy on your chest as your breath quickens. You rapidly turn to face him, before Miss Fontaine can look out the carriage window.

“Steven-”

“Miss, please, just listen to me.”

You’re struck by how soft Steve’s voice is when directed at you, compared to his snarling at Miss Fontaine. His hazel eyes are enough to make you melt, searching your face for understanding.

“The things that happen in these woods, on a full moon, it’s-” he drops his gaze to your clasped hands, and for a moment, you think he’s going to reach out and grab them. But he simply takes a deep breath, the red flush on his cheeks brightening as he looks back up to your face. His voice drops in register, so that only you can hear him say, “Please, honey, I’m begging- talk some sense to your governess. Going out there tonight, when the moon is full… it’s too dangerous. Believe me. Trust me.”

You take the opportunity to gaze up at him openly, like you’ve wanted to for all the months you’ve known him, but never got the chance to. It occurs to you to correct him on his impropriety, and to remind him that you’re betrothed. To a duke that you don’t want to marry.

You don’t correct him. Instead, you whisper, “I trust you, honey.” And when he blinks, his lashes kissing his cheeks like you so desperately want to, you add, “But you and I both know that if anyone actually listened to me, we wouldn’t be traveling at all. I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington. My hands are tied.”

Steve swallows, and you swear he looks like he’s going to cry, or do something desperate like drag you back inside with him. But he just nods, and when you turn to climb into the carriage, he nearly pushes the driver aside to offer you his hand, instead.

Your mind lingers on the touch of his hand even after you’ve settled into your seat, your fingers smoothing over your tingling palm distractedly. You watch through the window as Steve’s trousers tighten across his thighs when he mounts his horse. He gives the driver a furious look as the carriage kicks off.

And Miss Fontaine glares at you when you pretend you weren’t staring at the young huntsman.

“The Duke will be pleased to know that you’re doing everything you can to reach the destination promptly.”

You sigh, your elbow resting heavily against the windowsill of the carriage. The Duke, the Duke. Your future husband already has his clutches wrapped around you, squeezing until you can feel your ribs cracking and blood spilling from your mouth. Miss Fontaine seems to have no qualms about singing his praises for the entire duration of your midnight commute, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You’ve never been able to sleep while traveling, the rocking of the carriage jostling you awake no matter how hard you try.

Your eyes fix outside, on the white mare keeping stride with the carriage. Steve’s face is partially lamplit from the lanterns beside the driver’s seat, a deep furrow to his brow as he stares off into the dark. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, lost in thought.

You’d kill to know what’s going on inside his head. There have been times when you’ve thought of asking him what he thinks about this marriage- it’s entirely out of his place to voice his opinion, of course, but nights spent with him standing guard outside your bedchamber have made you curious. What he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, when your future is being decided for you. When you’re helpless to stop any of it, and the only thing he’s able to do is throw himself in front of any physical danger coming your way.

Your curiosity doesn’t form in a void, you know. You aren’t completely blind to his affections. Steve is protective of you to the point of possessiveness, always hovering close, intimidating anyone who so much as looks your way. Would-be suitors were chased off by your guard’s heavy, unblinking stare before the Duke wrote to your parents and asked for your hand. You think the only reason this marriage is happening at all is because your fiancé never had to be subject to Steve’s frightening scrutiny.

You don’t miss the way Steve brightens whenever you’re around, either. The way he smiles and indulges your conversation whenever he’s afforded it, going out of his way to make you laugh. Presenting you with bouquets of your favorite flowers, just because he saw them in the garden and knew you’d love them. He’s so sweet to you, and to no one else. At least, not in the same way. Not in a way that makes you doubt his affection for you, however subtle.

You wonder if he doubts your affection for him. You wonder if he can see it as easily as he can see a fawn meandering through the trees, in the path of one of his arrows. You’ve thought about it so often that it’s kept you up at night, when there’s no distraction that comes to make the thoughts of him disappear. When all you have are your own hands, and the knowledge of his presence just on the other side of your chamber door. If he listens very closely, Steve may be able to hear the wetness of your fingers as they slide between your legs, while you pretend that they’re his.

You wonder if he has heard it; there have been a few times when you weren’t certain, when he wouldn’t meet your eye in the morning after a particularly strong orgasm made you whimper a little too loudly. Maybe he knows, and he’s just more proper than you have the decency to be anymore.

But Steve couldn’t know about your dreams, when you’ve shut your eyes and fallen asleep - ones where your unconscious mind doesn’t fail to give you the closeness you crave from him. Ones where his forehead rests against yours lovingly, his breath ghosting across your lips as he rocks the bed with his thrusts. You aren’t making much noise in these dreams, but why would you, when the noises that he’s making are more beautiful than any you could come out with?

And what a pretty thing you are, whimpering Steve’s name as your hand scratches along the mattress to keep you anchored, the fingers of your other hand threaded in his hair, relief flooding your soul at being able to feel it in your grasp. You shiver, either from the intimacy of it or from the caresses of his tongue against your pulse, but it doesn’t make an ounce of a difference when you come apart on his cock, your head tilted back and exposing the column of your throat for his mouth as you thrash against him.

When his hips stutter, when he pulls you against his chest as the heat of his release blooms deep in your core, it’s with a groan of your true name onto your own tongue, to make sure you know how he’s made himself in the bed of your body. “You are mine now. My lady, not his. Never his.”

Waking from those dreams, after a while, hurts more than the idea of having them in the first place. Because you step out of your bedchamber to find Steve standing guard, smiling at you politely, properly, as the arbitrary rules that keep you apart dictate he should, and the cycle starts anew.

“Are you even listening?”

Your attention snaps back to Miss Fontaine, and her pinched, stony face. You were not, your mind tending to wander to him at the worst times. “I’m sorry?”

Miss Fontaine tsks, and you already know what’s coming. You take a deep breath in. “How do you expect to please a husband when you can’t even listen to me for more than a minute? Stop slouching, child.”

You straighten your spine even as you seethe. You’re a lady when it suits them to burden you with responsibility, and then you’re a child to be ordered around when you don’t please them. “I’m not a child.”

“Quite right, and you’re nearly too old to be a debutante. You’re well on your way to becoming a spinster if you don’t behave. Lord knows the Duke has his work cut out for him.”

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes. Of course, you should be thankful that you’re being sold off like cattle to the highest bidder. No, the only bidder. It just so happens that he’s a higher ranking aristocrat than you. And, as Miss Fontaine loves to remind you, you should count yourself lucky that anyone showed interest in you at all.

Never mind that you could never have the one that matters most to you. He has to stand by and watch it happen.

Poor, stupid thing. You always want what you can’t have, don’t you?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the carriage lurching to a stop, the calls of ‘whoa!’ from the driver reaching you through the carved wood of the cabin. Miss Fontaine sighs and moves to open the window latch before Steve’s hand slams down abruptly on the glass.

“Stay,” he snarls at her, his eyes seeming to glow from the inside with a reflective green. Your breath stutters in your chest when he looks at you. The reflective pale green of a nocturnal creature seems to encompass his pupils for just a moment. “Don’t leave the carriage.”

You watch him dismount his horse. You’re craning your neck to try to keep your eye on him out the window, when Miss Fontaine grumbles, “That boy needs to learn some manner-”

You gasp loudly when something lurches the carriage sideways. You grab onto the edge of the seat as it lurches again, keeping your balance as the carriage threatens to topple. Miss Fontaine shrieks, thrown sideways towards the door.

You hear the cries of the driver, just past the wooden walls of the cabin, and you don’t have to have much imagination to conclude what’s happening to him. Your heart plummets, immediately thinking of Steve, out there doing who knows what, with whatever it is that’s making the noise.

“What on earth-” Miss Fontaine grabs onto the door handle as soon as you hear an infernal growling coming from outside.

“Don’t leave the carriage!” You yell, just as she throws open the door to do exactly that.

With one final jolt, the carriage flips.

Breathe in. Breathe out. When you open your eyes, you don’t know how much time has passed, if any at all. You think you may have fainted in the commotion- your head doesn’t feel hurt, but your hip has been bruised. It smarts as you try to push yourself up, where your legs are crushed up against the wall of the carriage. Groggily, you turn your head, and scream.

Miss Fontaine’s unblinking, glassy eyes stare lifelessly back at you. Half of her body has been crushed beneath the toppled carriage, having fallen as she tried to leave the carriage. Blood oozes slowly from her hairline, down across her cooling forehead.

Heaving unmeasured breaths, you raise your hand and push her face away from you. Her head bobs limply to the other side. You don’t want her staring at you still, in death, with that judgemental sneer etched on her face.

With a sob stuck in your throat, you turn your head and stare up at the window above you in the capsized carriage. You manage to sit up and unlatch the door above you, throwing it open like a trap door. Heaving yourself up through the opening is another challenge- even though your summer dress is comparatively light, pulling your skirts upwards and over the edge is difficult, and you end up barrel-rolling out of the opening more than anything.

You come crashing down on the opposite side of the carriage wall, the wheels bracketing you where you sit. The lanterns on the driver’s end have broken, oil pooling and creating a fire that’s rapidly growing the longer it sits. Beside you, Miss Fontaine’s legs stick out comically from beneath the structure like a pair of sticks. You reach over and throw her skirts back over them. For propriety, of course.

You hear rustling off to your left. Scrambling along the ground, dirt and pebbles press into your palms and scrape your knees. You peek around the carriage wheel to see what the cause of the commotion is.

In a ditch beside the road, Steve is wrestling with a… well. In the darkness it’s hard to make it out, but it’s some sort of wild cat. A cougar or a mountain lion, by the looks of it, and monstrously huge. No wonder why the carriage toppled; it has your guard pinned, dwarfing him and trying hard to bite at his throat.

You go to scream to draw the cat’s attention away from Steve, but before you can, Steve already has the cat by the jaws. His two big hands wrap around the wild cat’s upper and lower teeth, prying them open before they can bite down.

And he keeps prying, until the damned thing’s head rips apart in his hands.

You shriek. You can’t wrap your head around all the blood, pouring across his chest and face. Two pieces of a fleshy, gorey skull drop from his hands as he pushes himself up and flings the dead creature off of him. It flops limply to the ground, a pool of blood spilling from the torn remains of its head.

Steve stands tall, hulking and godly against the backdrop of night, and in the flickering light of the growing fire from the carriage, the blood on his mouth and chest glints wet and dark against his tan skin. You don’t know what happened to his riding coat- his white blouse is pasted to his skin, torn in places and gaping at the collar.

You remain, frozen in place, half-cowering behind the overturned carriage. The fire creeps ever closer to you, but you can’t find it in you to move.

You’re glad that he’s okay. At least, you think he is. He’s moving quickly and doesn’t seem to be injured, just… mad. His teeth look a lot sharper than they were before when he bares them. Your heart thuds in your chest, your hands clutching desperately at the corner of the carriage, and the most off-putting part of it all is that you’re not sure that it’s because you’re scared.

He could never scare you. Not your Steve.

“Steven?” Your voice sounds too small, high and girlish in your throat when you want to pretend that you’re being brave. That you’re unaffected by any of this. That you’re not… relieved that Miss Fontaine is unable to voice her disdain of everything you do, and of him.

The guilt you feel at that revelation is outweighed by the instant comfort of Steve’s eyes on you.

He lumbers toward you, eerily quiet and agile for how big he looks, how much of a beating he’d obviously taken. Dripping with blood that isn’t his, flesh from the creature he’d torn apart with his bare hands still clinging to his forearms and clothes.

“My lady, are you hurt?” He crouches before you with his palms upturned, allowing you to keep the carriage between you, as if you’re a prey animal capable of being frightened off.

“No.” Your battered hip throbs like it knows your lie and plans to expose it. “The driver-?”

“His wounds were too deep,” Steve says apprehensively, as if he’s worried he’ll scare you now. “Your governess?”

“Dead.” The word slams out of your throat and falls hard into the air between you. Steve’s brow furrows in a reluctant show of grief. Perhaps you should feel aggrieved as well, but as you search yourself for a show of tears, nothing comes. You don’t know why- perhaps from the shock of it. You weren’t particularly fond of your governess, but you never thought she’d die beside you. “The carriage… she didn’t listen to you.”

He couldn’t stop the scoff falling from his mouth if he tried. “Of course not.”

In the aftermath, everything is too quiet. There are no crickets chirping, no huffs of horses waiting to get on with the journey. The oil fire crackles dangerously behind you, but you’re too busy staring at him to care.

Your Steve. Your bodyguard, your huntsman, who can rip a wild animal in half with his bare hands. The light of the fire flickers in his eyes, a hint of that reflective green still glowing behind his pupils. You open your mouth to ask him about it, but before you can, he shuts his eyes and winces.

“I should go,” he grits out through clenched teeth, shaking his head roughly as if trying to rid himself of his thoughts- whatever they may be. “I should- I should go get help-”

“Are you- have you been hurt?”

“No- I-” he pauses distractedly, looking down at his hands. He clenches them quickly into fists, swallowing against a dry throat as he gets impossibly more agitated. “Not hurt, exactly… I shouldn’t- I need to go-”

“Steve,” you implore, and he whips his head up to give you a startled look when you lay your hand on his shoulder. You don’t know if it’s because of your touch, or if it’s because you didn’t call him Steven, as you usually have under the watchful eye of others. His skin burns feverishly through the thin linen of his blouse. “My god, you’re burning up-”

He flinches away like he’s frightened of your hand on him. “I’m not, I’m fine-”

“You are not fine-”

“You can’t come with me,” Steve snarls, his bloody hands wrapping around your wrists in a vise-like grip. You gasp when you feel his sharp nails dig into your skin, and he instantly softens- both his grip, and his expression. His beautiful eyes bore into yours with a new kind of urgency. “You need to stay here, with the carriage. And I- I’ll find someone-”

“You really think that’s wise?” you ask, staring levelly at him while he blinks dazedly down at your hands. His own completely encircle your wrists, his fingernails far longer and sharper than they ought to be.

You suck in a sharp breath when you see them, but you pull your eyes back to his face and ask him, “Do you really want to leave me alone here? After everything that’s happened?”

Steve’s chest puffs up with the ragged breath he takes, and his hands tighten possessively around your wrists. “No.”

“Right,” you say gently, twisting your wrists so that he loosens his hold. Your hands slip down into his, sticky blood transferring onto your skin all the way. You hardly feel it, with how badly his hands burn to the touch. “We stay together, now. Who knows how many more wildcats there might be?”

“I don’t think it’s them you need to worry about. I’m…” Steve trails off, staring into your eyes. Underneath the rage and the frustration he obviously has, he looks scared.

“You’re what, Steve?” You tilt your head, probably looking much coyer than you feel, with your heart beating loud in your chest. You try your best to be soothing, to be gentle with him even though you’ve seen how strong and violent he’s capable of being- you feel it drying on your own hands.

“I’m going to protect you. I would sooner kill anything that comes near you than see you harmed.” Steve clenches his jaw, his face contorting into a grimace. “My lady.”

“I know you will, honey.” Your thumb traces a little circle around the sharp tip of one of his pointed claws, glinting dangerously in the moonlight. Even if you can’t quite explain how, you know what they imply about your huntsman.

And yet, you like everything about them.

In the darkness, wild things stir. Every crackle of the leaves, every snap of a twig beyond the trees makes you jump. Your eyes search in the dark for the cause, and see nothing.

“What’s that?” you whisper, a frantic edge to your voice.

The forest quiets around you, until all you can hear is Steve’s breath against your ear.

“You have nothing to fear, my lady. Nothing in these woods will harm you while I’m here.” Still, your bodyguard’s hand on your waist tightens, pulling you further against the impossibly warm body beside you. The boldness of his touch makes you shiver.

You want to tell yourself that that’s true, but the longer you walk, the more it becomes clear that Steve is not doing well. The arm that isn’t wrapped around you clutches protectively across his middle, as though he’s trying to apply pressure to some unseen wound. Every so often, he hisses and doubles over in pain- and when you dig your heels into the ground and say, “Steven, you need to rest,” he snaps back, “No, I do not.”

You bicker like an old married couple until you inevitably throw your hands up in defeat. He’s not going to stop trailing through the woods, and you can’t stop him, nor will you turn back and leave him. You trust that he knows where he’s going, because he’s intimately familiar with this forest.

In spite of your frustration with him, you still cling to him, and he still holds you close. His body heat still burns you to your core. There’s a gaping hole within you that he needs to fill, if only he’d allow himself.

If your fiancé has coiled around you to squeeze your life from you, you think that Steve has managed to burrow deep into your chest, to keep you alive and warm. You’d like it if he stays there forever- even if he eats your heart in the process.

In the corner of your eye, you see Steve’s head tilt up, surveying the moon peeking out from behind the clouds. “We have two hours to get back to Havensfield.”

“What happens in two hours?”

Steve’s eyes flicker upwards again. Piercing green reflecting the light, shining like two iridescent jewels. You wonder if that’s why they’re hazel during the daylight. “The moon peaks in the sky.”

Your hand tightens where it rests on his waist, and you swear he gasps. “And then?”

Steve is quiet. His breathing is hard and labored as he stares directly forward. His skin shines with perspiration and blood from the creature that he killed in self defense. Though he’d wiped it from his face, it’s still fresh on his collar and chest, saturating his ripped blouse. You haven’t shown any disgust over it, merely acceptance, with your small hand curled around his damp sleeve. Your fingertips dig into his forearm and make him wince, considering how his mind is honing in on every small touch of your body to his.

You’re a lot easier to read than you think you are. Steve knows that you can tell what he is- to some extent, at least. You know that there’s some sort of transformation taking place, but you don’t seem to understand the real gravity of it. You don't seem scared about it.

That’s what worries Steve the most. You should be scared of him. You shouldn’t be holding onto him like you are, knowing what the raging animal writhing just below his skin wants to do to you. He wants to tell you to run; but then you won’t know where to go, and every beast loves a chase. It’s only a matter of time before his human faculties give out and his primal urges take over.

Sometimes Steve can manage to give into it, when he isn’t stressed. When there’s no real fear, aside from needing to be away from people for a few hours. Usually, by this time, he is alone in the trees, able to tear his clothes off and let his beast control him for however long it takes before the moon hits its peak. And then…

“How much do you know about lycanthropes?”

Steve sounds a lot calmer than he is. There’s a surging in his head, a mad rush to just let go. Stop fighting it. It’ll only be more painful if you do.

“Wolf-men?” There’s a smirk on your lips that makes the human part of him want to kiss the living daylights out of you. “Only what they tell you as a child. They look like men, but they’re not. Their life span is seven years, and if you burn their clothes it makes them stay a wolf forever. They can only be killed with silver. Once they get a taste for flesh, they eat nothing else.”

“Old wives’ tales,” he grunts. Mostly. “The clothes don’t make a difference. And we live just as long as any normal person.”

You blink at him. “We?”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs as another wave of pain slices through his gut, making him stagger. He loses his grip on you, collapsing clumsily to his knees as he rasps, “You’re smarter than that.”

“Steve!” Your hands wrap around his biceps as he gasps, and there’s a battle raging within him- to fling you away or to tackle you to the ground. He finds a midway point between the two where he pushes himself backwards to cling to the trunk of a tree.

“You need to get to town.” He doesn’t wait for you to object. He points a shaking hand in the direction of town. The sight of his own clawed finger aloft in the air makes him flush in embarrassment. You shouldn’t have to see him like this. “If you keep going straight through the trees you’ll reach Havensfield within the hour.”

“I’m not going,” you argue. He heaves a sigh through his nose, and you actually do stomp your foot this time. “Damn it, Steve, I’m not leaving you here!”

“You have to!” He shouts, pushing himself up to stand against the tree as he does. He looks defeated, agonized as he gazes at you pleadingly. “If you stay, you have no idea what I’ll do to you.”

“Will you kill me?”

“No.” He says it so quickly, he doesn’t even have to think about it. Because, you realize, he already has.

“Then I’m staying,” you tell him firmly. Steve opens his mouth to argue with you, and you shake your head at him. “That’s it, Steve. I’m staying here, and I’m not going.”

His voice cracks as he says, “I can’t fight it, honey.”

“Is that why it’s hurting you?” You ask him as it occurs to you. “Because you’re… you’re fighting it?”

Steve trembles when you touch him, a gentle hand on his arm that sends shivers up his spine. He nods. “It’s easier when I don’t.”

“Then don’t.”

He swallows loudly. “It’s- you don’t know what you’re asking-”

“Explain it to me,” you tell him quietly, as soothingly as you can. “Will it- is it not you? Is it something else that takes over? Is it going to harm you-”

“No,” Steve shakes his head vehemently, blinking fast. He’s sorting through his thoughts, finding it harder to cling to anything other than base desire the longer this goes on. “It’s… it’s me. I’m always here, always present. But the part of me that acts on morality is gone. There are no morals. I just act on impulse, for a while. And then… I transform. Physically.”

You nod slowly. “And that’s what happens at midnight.”

“That’s what happens,” he says, and cringes in pain. “Now you see why I didn’t want- why you should have stayed through the night. I would have- I’d be alone. I’d be back by morning. I always am.”

Your heart feels heavy with how much it aches for him. You recall the months that Steve has been employed by your father, and how he had conveniently been absent the night of the full moon. And you had never noticed, never made any sort of connection. There had never been anything to make you suspicious.

But after every night he was gone, he was always there in the morning. Punctual as anything, you could set a clock by him. You could open the door, and where once was a lady’s maid sitting outside your bedchamber, there would be Steve, holding a bouquet of flowers for you with an apologetic smile. You couldn’t place what the apology was for until now.

“Does my father know?”

“Only that I needed the night,” Steve says, panting. “Nothing more.”

“Did Miss Fontaine know?”

He laughs, and it sounds feeble in his chest. “You think she would have let me near you if she did?”

Your lips quirk up at the edges. “You’ve been keeping your tracks covered, Mr. Harrington.”

“Just trying to be careful.” Steve chuckles, sounding strained as his nails dig into the bark of the tree he clings to. “Always have to be careful with you, you have no idea…”

“And you’re afraid,” you inquire, “that if you act on your impulses, you’ll… hurt me?”

“Hurt you?” he echoes. The mere notion of it wounds him- he’s sure he looks offended when he faces you. “No, I’d sooner die. Harm you, yes. Defile you, absolutely. You’d be a wreck when I'm finished with you.”

Your face burns as you watch him double over again, clutching onto the tree like it’s his lifeline, and the sight of him in so much pain hurts you more than anything. More than the loss of your governess, and more than the invisible hold your fiancé has on you. “Stop fighting it.”

“I won’t- my lady, if I don’t try to fight it, I’ll-” Steve squeezes his eyes shut, resting his forehead against the trunk of the tree with a pathetic whimper. He murmurs weakly, “I can’t sacrifice your virtue for my own comfort.”

“My virtue?” You tilt your head with a teasing smile. “I’m not nearly as virtuous as I seem.”

“Yes, you love to test my will.” Steve’s dark eyes lock on yours as he turns his head. There’s a flash of warning in them. “It must be one of your favorite hobbies. My hearing is much better than you think.”

You stare at each other heavily. Shallow breaths get stuck in your throat, now that he’s confirmed what you expected all along. He heard you all those times, standing guard on the other side of the door as you lay alone in your room and touched yourself to the thought of him. The knowledge sets a blaze alight within you.

He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

So, you’re at an impasse. He won’t set aside his chivalry. You won’t leave him here alone. All that’s left is to push and pull at each other until one of you gives, and you’ll be damned if it’s going to be you.

Steven: your huntsman, your bodyguard, your… lover. All these can be true if you just let it be.

You have nowhere left to go. No one else you want to turn to. If you make it to the town you’ll simply be foisted off to your fiancé, or returned to your parents, who will then turn around and give you over to the Duke. All roads lead to him, an inescapable fate that you’d been wishing for a chance to get away from.

So, you make a snap decision without considering the consequences- but really, what’s there to consider? This is the death of your previous life, one way or another.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, even though he knows the answer, as he watches you begin to remove the pins that hold the bodice of your dress shut.

“I’m testing your will,” you tell him flatly.

“You can’t, you’re- you’re engaged.”

“You expect me to believe you really care about that?” Your linen bodice slides off of your shoulders to the ground, revealing your stays and the sleeves of your chemise. “Or am I so undesirable that you can’t bear the thought of seeing me naked?”

As you begin untying your skirts, Steve growls, “Stop it.”

“Or what?” Your overskirt falls to the ground, your petticoat standing out stark white against the backdrop of the forest. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to make me. Except for you.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for-”

“Oh, but I do.” You grin at him as your soft muslin petticoat flutters to the ground, and you stand before him in nothing but your undergarments. Stocking-clad legs disappear beneath your linen chemise, your stays pushing your breasts up and over your neckline with each passing breath. You watch Steve’s eyes predictably fall to them, wide with hunger. “Tick tock, Mr. Harrington. We have two hours, and I can’t undo these stays by mysel- OOMF-”

The wind knocks out of your lungs as you fall back onto the damp earth, pinned beneath an enormous body and held tight by sharp claws. You instinctively wriggle beneath him, but Steve’s large hands hold yours fast against the ground over your head.

A whimper leaves your throat, echoing the ones he’d been hearing all along from just beyond your door. You stare up into his eyes and they’re dark, no longer glowing but eclipsed by black pupils that seem to grow bigger as he watches you squirm beneath him. His face is so close, his breath tickles your skin, and you try to hold still even though every muscle in your body is screaming at you to roll your hips up into his.

“You are such. A fucking. Brat. You- you don’t know how much I have to hold myself back with you. If I don’t, I’ll destroy you. Do you understand?” His voice is at such a low register that it practically rumbles from his chest directly into yours, vibrating in your ribs. Your heart pounds, your thighs clamping down tight on either side of his hips because you don’t want him to move away. “I’m sworn to protect you. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

Between your legs, your muscles tense and release like they’re searching for something to grip onto. “So protect me,” you whisper. “Do us both a favor. Don’t let me go to him. Make me yours.”

He shakes his head, and his nose bumps against yours. “That wouldn’t be protecting you. They’d kill us.”

“Not if we’re already dead. They’ll never find us, they’ll think we died in the crash, or- or…” Frustrated, your hips squirm up against his, and he hisses when you brush the tent in his trousers. “Be selfish for once. Do what you will to me, Steve. Damn it, I want you to…”

You trail off, because Steve is already dipping his head to breathe in your scent, just along your pulse point. A gasp hitches in your throat as he moves downward, his lips dragging gently over the soft skin. The vibration of your moan rumbles against his mouth.

“This… this is a bad idea,” he mumbles, but his mind is already going fuzzy, reason becoming harder to grasp while instinct and desire takes over. He can feel himself drooling onto your skin. Your heaving chest becomes wet with his saliva the longer he lingers over it, mesmerized by the feel of your warmth on his lips.

“Do it. Take me, Steve,” you whine, lifting your leg until the linen of your chemise falls back to reveal soft skin, your inner thigh brushing his hip. “I want you. Please. Please, please.”

The scent of your arousal fills the air, earthy and sweet, and Steve’s will flounders and dissipates. There’s nothing that can stop him now. He’s done for. He sinks his claws into the quilting and linen at your chest, and he rips through your stays without warning.

A rush of breath fills your lungs at the sudden jolt of your stays snapping apart, and turns into a weak noise the moment his wet mouth closes over your exposed nipple. The warm summer night air hangs humid around you, making your skin stickier, sweatier. Steve inhales the natural perfume of your body, more powerful of an aphrodisiac than he’s ever experienced.

“You’re so soft,” Steve croons when you mewl at the scratch of his pointed canines. “My sweet girl, never had anyone kiss you like this, have you?”

“N-no, Steve.” You choke on your breath, your eyes rolling back in your skull as his large hand cups your breast and his claws prick at your skin. The pain and pleasure combine into an entirely new, indescribable feeling that swells beneath your ribs. “Only you.”

His tongue drags over your chest, tasting, savoring the exposed flesh that no one else has dared to touch. The feeling is warm and sweet, melted gold that drips through your skin down to the bone. “Is this what you wanted?”

“I- yes.” You give a muffled mewl in return when he sinks his teeth in, leaving an indent over your heart in the shape of his mouth. “God- you have such sharp teeth.”

“All the better to eat you with,” Steve rasps in reply, his breath fanning over your damp skin and making you struggle against his hold. He releases your wrists, claws digging into the earth instead as he moves down your body. “Always make such pretty sounds f’me- you don’t have to hide them now, you know. I want to hear them. Wanna hear what I do to you.”

Your hands lift to sink into his hair. Feather-soft locks spill over your knuckles, and it’s so tempting to just grab them and pull when he bites again, like he might try to leave a permanent mark there on your ribs for you to come back to later. You don’t think you’d mind it if he did. A possessive part of you wants him to leave his mark on you, so that no one else can doubt who you belong to.

Your hips lurch up to collide with his stomach. There’s nothing there to give you the friction you want, just a solid, hot body that in itself is an entirely new and erotic experience for you. If he notices how flustered it makes you, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps mouthing over your skin, your ribs and your stomach tenderized with love bites that ache the longer he lingers on them.

“I wanted this, too,” Steve says now, while his hands drift over the plane of your stomach and grab the tattered scraps of your clothes to rip them further. A perfect line splits down the weave of the fabric until you’re laid entirely bare before him. “You’ve no idea- whenever I hear you, whenever you taunt me. Want to tear you apart.”

His nose dips over your navel, down to the matted curls that he’s dreamed of, shrouding your sex and wet with your arousal. He breathes in deep. His mind is unable to sort through the waves of desire spinning through it, washing over him in burning rivulets that coalesce deep in his core.

Spit dribbles from his parted lips down to the folds of your pussy, making you flinch as the hot liquid drips across your sensitive flesh. Your hips buck, your cunt pulsing hotly in earnest for him to touch you, but he won’t. Or, he hasn’t. He’s lingering there with his nose pressed to your pubic bone, breathing in long, deep gulps of air that rattle in his throat. Pheromones and sex filling his lungs, clouding his mind.

“What’re you- oh.” Your lashes flutter as he nuzzles his head against your stomach, and slowly drags his cheek over your pelvis, your hip, your thigh. He nudges the top of your stockings with his nose, pulling the fabric back to reach more of your skin. You don’t even think he’s paying attention to the effect that it has on you. He’s somewhere else, lost in his own world as he marks you with his scent. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

“You’re mine now. Mine,” Steve states roughly, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth as he echoes your dreams of him- the ones you’re sure he couldn’t know, unless being a lycanthrope also constitutes being a psychic. It makes you shudder. “You belong to me, yeah? It’s just you and me from now on. You and me.”

“Yours, Steve,” you repeat, and it makes your head spin. Your fingers sift through his hair, your bloodstained hands mirroring his own against your thighs in the dark. “I’ve always been yours.”

The warm brush of his tongue between your legs is enough to make you jump. Your moan sounds too loud, even to your own ears- so many nights you spent quietly whimpering into your own palm, and now you can’t be bothered to quiet the howl that breaks out of your throat. He takes to your cunt with long, wide strokes that practically burn with their heat.

“Oh- oh, Stevie, I-” you gasp when he growls against you, the vibration shocking you like lightning. “That’s so good.”

Some things you simply can’t replicate with your fingers, and the feeling of Steve’s mouth on you is one of them. He’s messy, drenching you in his saliva, and he’s wild, his tongue broad enough to somehow reach every bit of you.

You open your eyes long enough to glimpse his, and they’re black as the night around you, seeming to get darker the further he indulges his impulses. He squints, as though he’s teasing you, daring you to do something to make him stop.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper softly, letting your head fall back onto the damp earth.

It’s sinful, this feeling of flesh on flesh that should never rightfully meet. Everything is swollen and wet, relaxed and yet drawn so tight you could snap apart. Steve’s enormous hands grip into the fat at the top of your thighs, holding you apart no matter how much your legs try to close around his head. The wool of your stockings scrape blindly along his back when your feet kick and squirm, your calves thrown over his broad shoulders.

His tongue touches your clit, and you jolt. He hadn’t really been focusing on it, more interested in getting as much of your taste in his mouth as possible. But now he zeroes in on it, his tongue going hard and then soft, lapping over it in a soft back-and-forth. You chase him with your hips, riding his tongue and adding an extra layer of pleasure to what’s overloading your mind.

And there’s nothing in his head but primal lust, and the strength to take what he pleases. He wants everything that you can give. But Steve knows, back in the recesses of his mind where his morality has retreated to, that he’s still holding himself back. That he’s madly in love with you, so even the most animalistic part of him wants to taste every part of you, stake a claim to you, even if it means he has to take his time.

So, he licks long and slow through your folds, and you keen up towards the stars because nothing in this world feels quite like it. And it’s the most wretched and awful thing, the pride that swells in his chest when you cum, with your back arched and loud cries falling from your lips. Cries of Steve’s name.

You taste like heaven. He’d stay between your legs for eternity just to have you on his tongue. He comes up panting, mumbling praises that can hardly be made out over the purring in his throat.

“God, you’re lovely,” he says, climbing up your body and marking it with his dripping mouth. Steve aches for you- it’s not enough, not even close to what he wants to do to you. “So agreeable for me. Sweet little lamb. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

A feeble whimper catches in your throat while your nails scratch at the fabric against his shoulders. Here you lay, completely naked for him, and he hasn’t even removed the tattered remains of his blouse. You don’t have it in you to ask him to, you just tear at the thin linen like it’ll magically disappear on its own.

He dips his head and lets you grip it in your fists, pulling the torn garment off so you can throw it as far away as you can. Steve’s skin burns to the touch, his freckled shoulders searing your fingers when you grab for him. The pelt of hair on his chest tickles your stomach, and you instinctively press further into him, wrapping your arms around his torso when his mouth reaches your throat.

You cling to him, shaking like a leaf. He warms you better than any fire could, laying his weight upon you. Your hands creep lower, stroking down the length of his spine to feel him shudder, his teeth grazing your pulse. He groans when your fingers dance across his lower back and beneath the waist of his trousers.

“Ohhhh god, I wanna do everything with you. Please.” You plant kisses along the side of his face, “God, I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you, Steve, I-”

Steve turns his head and catches your lips with his, his tongue dipping into your mouth to taste you there, too. It’s a slow kiss, sensual, tender rather than fiery and rabid. You chase him when he pulls back to say, “I’m in love with you too, sweet girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

“I’m tired of waiting, Stevie,” you urge him gently, coaxing his trousers down over the curve of his ass. He snarls when you squeeze at the exposed flesh, his hips snapping forward to ram blindly into yours, his teeth nipping at your jaw. You’re becoming accustomed to the feeling of them on your skin. It delights you. “Let me have you or let me die, but do it now.”

Steve rears back, his bright white grin flashing in the moonlight. He stares you down with big eyes, glowing like cinders while he undresses himself indelicately- he tears through the buttons at his waist, rather than taking the time to undo them properly. Your eyes trace the stripe of hair running down the middle of his stomach, widening into the unruly patch that surrounds his cock.

A moment’s hesitation strikes into your limbs; you don’t see how it could possibly fit inside you. Steve is big all over, and you don’t know if it’s just a trick of the magic on this night or if he’s always like this, a permanent reflection of the beast within him. But his cock curves up toward his navel, thicker at the base than anywhere else, glistening velvety flesh appearing incredibly massive in the dark and blue moonglow. In spite of everything, your cunt pulses. Your body knows better than you, now.

You widen your legs for him.

You satisfy yourself that your work is done, it’ll take no more well-placed temptation and pleading to get him to use you how he wants- how you both want. Maybe in the morning he’ll regret it, when he has the mind to be a gentleman again, but you know with a thrill in the pit of your stomach that you won’t.

Steve’s clawed hands dig selfishly into your thighs, the points of them breaking the skin, and you yelp as he yanks you into his lap. Bent backwards over the thick, hairy expanses of his own thighs, your shoulders crush dead leaves on the ground.

“Feel that, sweet thing?” He asks, his voice resonating deep in his chest as the length of his cock drags heavily through your folds, the same path that his tongue had taken. You feel your pussy lips part around him. His cock gathers up the slickness of your arousal, his swollen head catching on your clit as he does. The lewd, sticky noise of it has your blood rushing hot beneath your skin. Your cunt pulses in warning, like you might cum just from this.

He hums deep within his chest. “Such a good girl, so wet for me. So desperate for my cock.”

The stretch sears when he enters you. You thrash in his hold, your hands clawing at the damp soil beneath you, but all you do is push him further in. Beyond the fullness, the pulsating ache and the pain of the intrusion, he hits something deep within you that makes you cry out, your muscles locking down tight around him.

“There you go, that’s it,” Steve coos, but there’s nothing gentle in his voice. He doesn’t know how to be sweet anymore. He rocks back and then pulls you down against his hips again, making you repeat that same feral cry. “Now you know how it feels to have a monster inside you.”

You don’t know how many minutes he spends there, just taking in your warmth and your wetness, tighter than sin as he rolls his hips. The sting soon fades into an aching pleasure that has you relishing the slow drag of his cock as it slides out of you and back in. It meets its end with the flush press of his hip bones to yours.

There’s a deep roiling in your gut that makes you keen loudly into the night, the sounds coming from your mouth entirely less than human. You find yourself meeting his thrusts with a desperate rock of your own hips, chasing that stirring within you.

“S-stevie-” you whine, your muddy hand reaching forward and clamping around his hairy forearm as he rolls his cock into you with a wild growl. You don’t really know what you were about to say- all rational thought escapes you when he picks up speed.

Steve chuckles above you, his dark eyes raptly watching your face as you lose more of your composure. He watches your jaw go slack, your brows tilted up in quiet desperation. Even if you can’t articulate it, he knows. “Feeling good, sweetheart?”

Your body feels like it’s on fire and he’s no better, scorching you from the inside out. Each push of his cock hits sharp heaven inside you, something you didn’t even know was possible and yet you craved it all the same.

“Mmm- I know you do,” he purrs, far too soft and quiet for the way that he’s fucking you, hard and fast, jolting you across the ground. He runs his nails slowly across your sensitive skin, letting your nipples catch on them with just enough pressure to make you squeal.

You gasp when he snatches you by the waist and yanks you up into his lap in one easy move. A loud moan punches from your lungs when he sits you fully down onto his cock. You take all of it at once, every last pulsating inch, while his mouth hovers a hair’s breadth away from yours.

Steve groans when he kisses you, soft lips to offset his sharp teeth, his strong arms pulling you against his body. The hair on his chest scrapes against your sensitive nipples, making you whimper into his mouth.

Your hands settle onto his shoulders, squeezing the hard muscle when you instinctively rock your hips against his. On shaky legs, you pick yourself up and roll your hips back down, delighting in the deep growl that comes from his chest.

“There you go- such a good fucking girl, ridin’ me like that.” A wide grin splits his handsome face as he guides you against him, his hands draped over your ass to drag you closer. “Just can’t help yourself, can you? Just wanna be full of me, is that it?”

Beyond able to answer him properly, you just nod. Your cunt throbs, tightening around him as you try to draw back- he groans so pretty, you slam yourself down onto him in desperation.

“FUCK!” He snarls rabidly, gripping you by the back of the neck. Steve gives in, jerking his hips to fuck up into you as hard as he can. Your head drops back, cradled by the curve of his forefinger and thumb as you cry out into the trees. His mouth finds your throat, bitten raw but still so pristine- more than the beast in him likes it to be.

He sucks hard on your pulse point, and you clamp down around his cock even harder. There’s a resounding wet noise kicking up from where you meet, loud and slick as it echoes between your sweaty bodies. With a broken noise in your throat, your weak hands squeeze at his shoulders for something to stabilize yourself with.

“Baby,” he warns, “you’re gonna make me cum if you keep-”

“I want it.” You don’t even let him finish his sentence, you’re so worked up. Your hips keep moving, desperately chasing your release even when his hands are tightening on you so hard they make you whine. “Give it to me, Stevie, please.”

You two create a vicious cycle- the harder you bring yourself down on him, the harder and faster he fucks up into you in retaliation. Your orgasm is so close that you can practically taste it. You don’t know which one of you is going to break first, but you know it’ll be devastating.

“M’gonna give it to you- shit- gonna fill this pretty pussy, you’ll be dripping my cum for days.” He curses furiously, a loud moan cutting from his lungs. His hair hangs over his eyes as he stares up into your face. A muscle in his jaw jumps. “Gonna fuck you so full of my kids, you’ll be so round- gonna give you my babies-”

You sob his name, drowning between the legs as your pussy clenches down around him. God, you don’t want it to end, but you can already feel it rearing up within you. You have to bite your lip against that simmering, violent ecstasy that’s welling up deep inside of you. His forehead drops to your shoulder.

“Fffffuck- M’gonna make you mine,” he pants into your skin again, his tongue laving across your pulse. This time, there’s an added weight to his words. “Want that, hm? Wanna be with me forever? Just like me?”

“Yes, Steve,” you cry, clinging onto him as you grind down on his cock, searing pleasure kicking up inside you at the thought. Your pussy pulses, and you give him a garbled noise of warning.

He nuzzles your jaw, and kisses you so sweetly beneath your ear that you think you imagine it. “It’ll hurt. Just for a minute. And then we can be together…”

Then, two things happen at once. Steve’s teeth sink into your shoulder hard, harder than he has yet. And that mounting ecstasy unleashes all its fury within you.

You cum screaming, from the pleasure tearing through you, and the pain only seeming to build into it- wild, animalistic sounds coming from your own throat. Your blood is in Steve’s mouth, your flesh torn against his teeth. He’s released something into your body that writhes and squirms, just below the surface. Just like what lives in him.

You claw at his back- your nails aren’t nearly as sharp as his, but you still manage to raise welts as your spasming cunt drenches his cock. It burns you alive. It eats away at you until there’s nothing left of you or your soul- just the feeble part of your brain that loves and feels him.

There’s a swelling deep within you, an anguished cry against your torn skin that you hardly register as his before you feel him cum, his cock pulsing hard within you. Steve presses up into you, slow and easy, holding you there against his hips with all the strength in his adrenaline pumped body.

Your head is spinning. You feel dizzy, and even then you can tell when you’re stuffed to the brim, the swelling becoming an overwhelming stretch again. You whimper into his neck, hoping that the inquisitive noise will convey your question, because you don’t trust yourself to be able to come up with the words to articulate it.

“Fuck- this is going to take a minute-” he groans when you squirm, his hands trying to hold you still. “It’s- it’s meant to keep you there- keep my cum in you.”

You harumph against his skin, your eyes rolling back into your head. You’re still twitching, still pulsing from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Even though the swelling of the knot at the base of his cock is bordering on overstimulating, you relish the closeness that it forces you to have with him now. That he has to stay here, inside you. That he has to hold you for a while, as his body readjusts to normalcy.

As you accept that there’s no going back now.

“I want to say that I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs, his voice rough and gravelly, still fussing over the bite on your shoulder. He runs his tongue over it- not necessarily trying to be erotic, but you think anything he does to your body comes off that way now. “But I wouldn’t mean it if I did.”

You hiss a little as the wound stings. “I’m not sorry.”

“You can’t get married to the Duke now, you know.” Steve pauses. “And, I suppose you can’t go back to your family either, so… I think it’s time you meet mine. Now that we’re mated.”

That makes you smile, a half-giggle falling from your lips. That’s probably as close to a proposal of marriage as you could hope for, right now. Your eyes fall shut, the slow stroking of his tongue over your wound and the strong heat of his body lulling you. “Am I gonna turn tonight?”

“No.” He shakes his head, nuzzling his nose against your neck. “Next month. It has to take, first. Get into your veins, make you suffer. Just the good stuff.”

“But you…”

“I’ve got an hour,” he says, and you feel him tilt his head up toward the sky.

You hum sleepily, letting yourself relax in his arms. They’re covered in more hair than they had been before- pretty much all of him is. Wherever it grows, it’s getting thicker and denser the closer it gets to midnight. “Stay with me.”

“I’ll be here,” Steve assures you, soothing your skin with kisses. “I’ll always be here. Forever.”

Things lose their clarity, your surroundings slowly slip away with your consciousness. You fall asleep against him, soothed by his warmth and the pace of his breath on your neck.

At some point, well after midnight, you rouse sleepily to find yourself curled up on a heap of torn clothes, between the paws of an enormous, brown-haired wolf.

You wake in the morning at the impact of a pile of cloth hitting you squarely in the chest.

You startle, coming up with a screech. Steve’s arm is around you- strong, muscular, and a lot less covered in hair than it had been the last time you’d seen it. He makes an inquisitive noise and sits up, naked as the day he was born, with leaves sticking out of his hair. He resembles Shakespeare’s Puck- streaked with dirt and grime, a bit of blood still matted in his chest hair, but the morning sun creates a golden halo around his head.

“Morning, lovebirds.”

You don’t know what comes over you at the sound of the strange man’s voice, but you scramble so quickly that you practically barrel roll over Steve’s body. He grunts and moves to grab you, but you’re already plopping down on the other side of him and using his body as a shield.

Steve blinks hard against the white light of morning, and squints at the strange man who had thrown a stack of folded clothes at you. “Eddie?”

“In the flesh.” The man stands proudly, clad in a mishmash of old and new, very new, clothes. His dark hair hangs loose and unkempt around his face, which smiles prettily at Steve with a pair of enormous, pointed canines.

“What’re you doing here?”

Eddie snorts. “Did you somehow forget that we turn in these woods, too?” He shakes his head, tutting condescendingly. “Stevie boy, you’ve been away from home for too long.”

“No, I-” Steve stops. “Where’s Robin?”

“Still getting dressed. Which you should do, too. Glad I’m the one who found you, there’s some kind of uproar about the Duke of Hargrove’s lady-love going missing, and- oh. Wait.” Eddie crouches, his eyes peering over Steve’s shoulder at you. He grins in a way that tells you he already knows the answer when he asks, “That couldn’t have been you, could it?”

“Eddie, watch it,” Steve growls territorially, throwing his hand backwards as if to shield you further from him.

The man- Eddie- chuckles, and stands. “Well, I figured you’d want to introduce us. Seeing as how that pretty mark on her shoulder tells me she’s, ah…” he twirls his finger, clad in a large, silver ring in the air, “a part of the pack, now.”

Steve huffs a sigh, and lifts his hand. “My lady, allow me to introduce you to Edward Munson.” Eddie bows dramatically, smirking at you as Steve says, “He’s a member of my family.”

“The best member.”

“Debatable.”

“Wait-” you start, sitting up further, your gaze still trained on Eddie’s hand, and the ring he wears. “Is that… Miss Fontaine’s ring?”

Eddie pauses. “Oh, was that your carriage back there?”

Steve snarls, moving to jump up. You yank him back into place to shield your naked body as he growls, “Eddie I’m going to fucking kill you-”

You’re not that far ahead yet. “Does that mean the thing about silver killing us is an old wive’s tale, too?”

Eddie and Steve both pause, and look at you blankly. Then, Eddie laughs- a bone-deep, guttural laugh that sounds like a wolf’s howl.

“Better watch out, Harrington, she’s way quicker on the uptake than you were,” he chuckles. “She’s gonna fit right in.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #werewolf!steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #roses*

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 2 months ago

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2012 tmnt boys with a reader that’s having a rough period week? Like normally it’s bearable but this week it’s just, struggling to walk, feeling dizzy and sick, not really eating and just laying in bed?

Hope you’re having a lovely timezone! Take care of yourself :]

Rough Period (Fluff)

2012!Turtles x reader

A/N: I just started my own really bad period, so this just seemed very fitting to get done😂 Hope you’ll enjoy💚

Warning: Periods so bad that you will puke, cry and maybe even pass out.

Leonardo:

Since this isn’t the first time you’re having your period around Leo, he isn’t too alarmed about it. At this point he even seemed to know your cycle (probably also because he was able to smell it on you, but he would never tell you that), and had pads and tampons in his room, just in case you needed any.

But this time Leo could tell that it was bad before you even got out of bed. You were in an incredibly bad mood, struggling to even sit up or move, and even tried to push him away when he tried to cuddle you, only for you to break down crying due to the pain.

Leo would not take any words or action of yours personally. He knew it was just your hormones and the stabbing pain that was speaking. So he kept his distance without ever going too far, patiently taking every single que, look and noise you gave him. He got you painkillers without you even asking for it, and would lay next to you, just in case you would need to be hugged at any point.

At some point you would finally crawl into Leo’s arms, before finally falling asleep with your head against his chest.

Raphael:

Have you ever seen the couples that mockingly will yell at each other, acting like they are fighting, but just smile and laugh while saying things that an outside person might totally misunderstand? Yeah, that’s you and Raph when you’re on your period, laying angrily in bed, feeling tired of the whole world. But somehow, you and Raph’s small back and forths always seemed to get a smile on your lips.

And somehow, when you’re having a particularly bad period, leaving you unmoving in bed, unable to eat anything, feeling like throwing up, Raph still had a way to put a small smile on your lips. He would bring you something to drink along with some snacks, hoping to get something inside of you, before taking a seat next to you, coming with a sarcastic yet somehow funny; “have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you’re on the verge of dying?” That made you snort.

But when your cramps would get particularly bad, Raph would drop any funny acts, in order to solely focus on how to help you. Water? Bucket? Heating pad? Blanket? Sweatshirt off? More snacks? Raph got it all, and he somehow always seemed to be able to know what to do, without asking you what you needed.

Donatello:

Knowing as much about human anatomy as Donnie did, he never got particularly worried when you were on your period. That did not mean that he didn’t feel bad for you. With every cramp and every small pained whimper, Donnie felt his heart crack a little for you, as he tried to find a way to make the pain less for you. But so far nothing had been working, but Donnie never wanted to turn you into a guinea pig, to test something that may not work. No, instead he would stay by your side, holding you close and keeping you company as you got through it.

But one particular day, your period was way worse than usual. You were sick, throwing up, with cramps so bad that you were left crying on the bed. That really broke Donnie’s heart.

That day Donnie did not step a foot in the lab, but stayed with you, not leaving your side unless absolutely necessary. He even went so far as to check your vitals, just to make sure. He tried not to fuss, even though it was hard. He just wanted to make sure that you were alright, though it could take several days.

To be honest, this was probably the hardest thing Donnie had to go through in your relationship. And when it was over, Donnie was just happy to know that you were okay.

Michelangelo:

Whenever you had your period, Mikey always had a little moment of panic. He HATED seeing you in pain, and whenever you would curl up in bed with cramps, Mikey was about to cry and scream in fear, thinking that he was about to lose you. Bit of a drama queen really. Sometimes you had to give him a hard knock, and remind him what was going on.

But then one day, you had a really bad period. So bad that you almost couldn’t speak. And that made Mikey very worried, fussing around you with words of fear. But when you tried to stand up, only to fall back on the bed, the world spinning around you, Mikey went into total panic, running laps around the room before running for Donnie.

While Donnie did a check on you, Mikey stood over his shoulder, staring like you were in your dead bed with just moments left. He almost broke down crying, until Donnie turned and told him to tone it down. “She’s just on her period, your nob. I’ll get her some pain killers. Get her something to drink and some comfort food. There isn’t much else than to make her comfortable”.

In the end, it was more like you were the one making Mikey comfortable, reminding him that even though you were hurting for the moment, it would be over a few days later.

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romancherry · 28 days ago

Text

Wheels & Whiskey

Chapter 1: A Night Out

pairings ➝ biker!joel miller x doctor!reader

summary ➝ you have been evoiding him for a while. now, your friend unknowingly drags you somewhere you cannot escape him.

warnings ➝ none

word count ➝ 951

author’s note ➝ i will post this now, without editing it or adding a cover and whatever. i'll pray for the best, and if i wake up in the morning and see this blowing up, i'll continue it. love yall!

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

After busy days at work in the hospital wore you down completely to the point you were literally married to the job and never leaving the house unless you had to go to work; it was clear your best friend had to do something about it.

Maria is your well trusted nurse, but a devilish little friend. She moved into town at the same time you did, which was about two months ago, so she didn't know how things really went around here; and neither did you. But you thought it would be common sense not to come here.

You almost jump back into the car when you see where she has driven you: to none other than Wheels & Whiskey, where the big bad bikers gather every day and every night.

You begged her to go home and enjoy yourselves there, but she was too excited to see what all the fuss was about. "I wanna know what bikers eat for dessert," she said. So that's when you realized you had no chance.

It didn't help that everyone knew who you were. The second you walked inside, people made space for you to pass through. "How are you so popular?", Maria asked. "I stitched all the people in here at least twice," you replied.

It was half the truth. Indeed, some of the privilege was granted because you had earned it through your medical capabilities. But most of it came from someone else entirely.

Joel Miller. The owner of the local and the leader of his stupid gang of bikers. The one who's been flirting with you ever since you came into this small town, where everyone knew anyone. You couldn't escape him even if you wanted to.

Joel sat at the far end of the bar, his usual spot, nursing a beer and watching the crowd like a hawk. As the door swung open, his eyes flicked toward it, locking onto you the moment you stepped inside.

Your entrance didn't go unnoticed. The usual murmur of conversation died just a moment, and everyone gave you a little extra space. Joel smirked into his drink, taking a slow sip. He knew why they did that. It wasn't just because you were a doctor.

It was because you were his — and everyone in here knew it, apart from you.

He found you very interesting. He wasn't sure if it was the way you didn't fall for the small-town charms or how you'd walk past him with that cool, detached look on your face, but you weren't like anyone else in this place. And if he was being honest with himself, it made you damn hard to resist.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes never left you as you made your way through the crowd.

Maria, the one who had no idea what she was walking into, was giddy with excitement as you passed her.

Joel's smirk twitched. He could already see her trying to play it cool, acting like she wasn't intimidated by the sheer presence of everyone in this room.

But you? You walked around here like you owned the place. And Joel wasn't one to let you slip by without a little something, a little spark to keep the fire going.

He stood, stretching, before crossing the room in a few long strides, stopping just in front of you and your friend.

"Good evenin', ladies." Joel said, his voice laced with amusement. "Guessin' you didn't come here for the food." He looks up and down at you twice. "Not that I blame you. It's pretty damn good, but I wouldn't say that's what brings most people in here."

He leaned closer just enough to let you feel the heat from his body and that familiar scent of him. "So, what's got you all worked up tonight? You need a drink, or maybe just some company?"

His eyes flicked to you and then to Maria, and then back to you. "I could show you around, if you're interested. I can think of a few things that might keep your attention." His voice dropped a little, playful but with an edge of something deeper.

"Though, I'm not sure your friend can keep up." Joel's grin was easy, but there was something behind it. He wasn't looking for you to turn him down tonight.

"Maria, this is Joel, the owner of this local. Joel, she is Maria, my friend from work."

Joel's smile didn't falter, even as you dismissed his advances with practiced indifference. He was used to your cool demeanor, but it never stopped him from trying to chip away at it.

"Nice to meet you," he said, his tone smooth as velvet. "I'm sure you'll find the place... interesting," he added, looking around with a knowing glance that made it clear this wasn't just any regular bar.

"This is... a lot," Maria's eyes widened as she took in the surroundings, looking around at the rough crowd, the tattoos, the flexing muscles.

Joel chuckled, the sound warm but tinged with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly who he was. His gaze shifted back to you, that flicked of challenge still in his eyes.

"I'll take care of you tonight, Doc. You need anythin', you let me know. Drinks are on me, as always."

Maria shot you a glance, clearly impressed by his boldness.

Joel tipped his beer toward you in a small salute, the unspoken challenge still lingering in the air, before he turned back to the bar, sliding back into his seat, his eyes flickering toward you one more time, almost like a promise.

He wasn't going anywhere tonight.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #biker au

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retroaria · 6 months ago

Text

Oliver Aiku NSFW Alphabet ∘°∘♡∘°∘

summary: NSFW alphabet headcanons for the sexiest man that’s ever walked this earth

warnings: NSFW (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) FEM!reader, I skipped some letters bc I got lazy mb yall, dom/sub play, choking, hair pulling, spitting, mentions of hitting, oral (m+f receiving), light voyerism, handcuffs, use of mommy/daddy, unprotected sex

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy my little freaks 🤍- aria

ꨄ︎ A is for Aftercare

Oliver does very simple aftercare. He’ll always run a shower for himself afterwards and invite (beg) you to join (potential round 2 if you say yes). Depending on the time of day/overall vibe afterwards he’ll always ask if you’re hungry or if you just wanna go to sleep. He’s not pandering to you in the aftermath but he’s definitely acknowledging that it’s now time to relax and just enjoy each other’s company. Just wants to make sure you’re comfy!!

ꨄ︎ B is for Body Part

Contrary to popular belief, Oliver isn’t full of himself, he’s just a confident man! He knows he’s attractive. his favorite part of himself is probably his arms/shoulders or his torso. He keeps up with his physique and puts a lot of work in for his sport of course and he likes looking a certain way for himself and the ladies. Oliver is 100% an ass man. He’s always resting his hand on it or on your lower back. As much as he loves looking at your pretty face when he fucks you he’s just a sucker for gripping you from behind watching is cock sink in and out of you.

ꨄ︎ C is for Cum

Oliver isn’t too into the concept of his own cum unless it’s inside of you. Doesn’t like cumming on your face bc how could he defile such an adorable fucked out face. He’d much rather watch it fill up your mouth and throat (slowly dripping out the corner of your mouth) Cumming on your stomach feels blasphemous to him bc why would he do the extra step when he could’ve just fucked all of it inside you??? Nonetheless he’s a respectful boy and will pull out if you ask him. Loves when you cum first and he can see it coating his cock around the base (even better if it’s his cum combined with yours after multiple rounds) (would make you suck it off after).

ꨄ︎ D is for Dirty Secret

Not really a secret but Oliver likes to record himself fucking you whenever he can to save for his own personal collection. He of course can and will always get off to watching you touch yourself or photos of you in cute lingerie, but nothing beats watching you get fucked by him. It’s like he can remember the feeling when he watches the videos, every sound you make reminding him of the corresponding grip of your tight cunt around him, how good you felt as he fucked you through every orgasm. He gets off on the fact that he did that to you and you let him.

ꨄ︎ E is for Experience

Before you and Oli started seeing each other he had his fair share of other partners. Truthfully, he’s a bit of a man whore. What can I say he loves to fuck and, now that he can, he especially loves to fuck you. the both of you have shown to be rather appreciative of his past experience bc now all those well learned skills get to be used on making you absolutely weak for him.

ꨄ︎ F is for Favorite Position

It’s either your legs thrown over his shoulders as he locks his lusty eyes with yours, gripping your thighs and ruining that pretty pussy, OR he’s ramming into you from behind, death grip on your hips, smoothing his hands over your ass, planting a soft slap every so often, pulling you up by your hair so he can turn your head and see your pleading eyes begging him not to stop.

ꨄ︎ H is for Hair

He keeps himself trimmed, close to the skin, overall very well groomed. Doesn’t like when it grows out and gets too thick. Would 1000% not give a fuck if you’re shaven or not. Bald or full bush, pussy is still pussy and he’s gonna love it every time. He’s really into the little heart thing that some girls do, thinks it’s hot asf. Would actually prefer some sign of hair over completely hairless bc he likes women and women have hair lol. A simple man truly.

ꨄ︎ I is for Intimacy

As much as he loves using you like a fuck toy he’s a sucker for long foreplay sessions, classic missionary, medium pace, constant eye contact, deep kisses, all that. He likes knowing that no matter how he fucks you he can still ruin you. Wants to savor you whenever he can, even if he’s being rough, he likes to take his time with you and make his top priority to have you flushed in absolute pleasure.

ꨄ︎ J is for Jack Off

As mentioned previously, he loves jerking off to you. He spends an unfortunate amount of time away for games and training but he relishes in the peace of being able to go back to his hotel room and remember how good you felt wrapped around him.

ꨄ︎ K is for Kinks

Not the MOST kinky boy out there but he’s into basic dom/sub stuff. He is almost always the dominant one but he can’t deny the few times he’s let you ride him with your hands around his throat still cross his mind when he’s yearning for you. thinks calling you mommy is hot but you calling him daddy is even hotter. Likes choking, hair pulling, biting, and spitting on the giving or receiving end. keeps an open mind in the bedroom and likes doing whatever you think will get you off the most. Would let you even go as far as to handcuff or blind fold him, it gets him all excited. Wants to be a vessel that can consistently bring you pleasure in whatever form you need it.

ꨄ︎ L is for Location

In most spaces he’s probably already thought about how he could get away with fucking you there (horny bastard). Won’t ever push you to do it anywhere you aren’t comfortable but will go absolutely feral if you told him you needed him right then and there. You don’t even have to think about anything he’s already got you up against the wall in some closet he scoped out or bent over a bathroom sink. doesn’t care if it’s at someone else’s house or someone else’s bed even. Really likes fucking you in the car (enclosed space = more sweat = more pants and moans from you that make him want to cum on the spot)

ꨄ︎ M is for Motivation

His sex drive is unstoppable, he doesn’t even need motivation. If you wanna fuck he has no other choice what else is a boy to do?? He’s got a lot of different turn-on’s but at the top of that list is any piece of clothing/outfit that makes your pussy easily accessible. He loves tearing your clothes completely off but the idea of simply having to lift your dress and pull your panties to the side in one fell swoop before he gets to fuck you makes him feel like he can really have you whenever he wants.

ꨄ︎ N is for No

As said before he keeps an open mind but he’s still not a super kinky guy and he’s got some big no-no’s. Sorry for all my bratty boy tamers in the chat but Oliver would not let you peg him. The thought actually scares him a bit. not into any crazy bondage that wouldn’t allow you to tug on his hair, scratch up his back, or wrap your legs around him. Handcuffs are hot but that’s about it. He also doesn’t like to hit you at all unless it’s to slap your ass. Even if you asked him to bc you wanted it he would say no, it just wouldn’t feel right for him.

ꨄ︎ O is for Oral

Loves going down on you but can’t go for super long bc it gets him way too worked up. Always makes you taste yourself after he pulls his fingers out of you or he’ll come back up from between your thighs and push his tongue into your mouth while it’s coated in your wetness. Unless it’s a quickie, sex isn’t complete unless he’s sucked on your clit at some point. Will literally never deny a blowjob from you or any chance to fuck your pretty face. He’s also not above asking you for them, although it’s never really the first thing he wants to do with you. Likes having you do it after he’s fucked you. Goes nuts if you offer to suck him off in public.

ꨄ︎ P is for Pace

He likes to pay attention to your reactions during sex and base his pace and thrusts off of that. Whatever is bringing you closer to the brink is the way he wants to go. But sometimes he wants it his way and can’t help but fuck you hard and slow or fast and sloppy, depends on how he’s feeling.

ꨄ︎ Q is for Quickie

Oliver loves quickies. As a human being with free will he uses his right to fuck you whenever and wherever. If you happen to finish getting ready with an outfit on that he thinks would look better on the floor, it’s over. Likes to make it a challenge sometimes to see how fast he can make you come. Enjoys the thrill of fucking you before someone else is supposed to show up to where ever you are. “Stop it Oli your team will be back in here in ten minutes!” “I could make you cum at least twice before then, just relax baby”

ꨄ︎ R is for Risk

As stated in Q and L, he gets off on knowing he’s got you in a bad situation while making you feel so good. The embarrassment riddled across your face and the way you try desperately to quiet your staggered moans and whimpers drives him crazy. He’s got an effect on you that proves to be almost uncontrollable and he loves to watch you struggle.

ꨄ︎ S is for Stamina

Oliver’s stamina is very dependent on what his day consisted of. No matter what his want to be inside you will always prevail over any tiredness he may feel, but no promises he’ll stick out for long. At peak energy, 3-4 hours is his max, if he’s tired from practice or other work stuff, you’re lucky if you get 30 minutes but he’s still gonna have you a moaning mess in that short amount of time. (3 minutes with this man is all I need tbh let me in the ring)

ꨄ︎ T is for Toys

Oliver definitely has some toys but I imagine them just being for you. Like he’s got a few vibrators, definitely a pair of handcuffs, I don’t see him as the kind of guy to own a dildo. “My dick is already free use for you why do you need another one???” He has a fleshlight but doesn’t use it anymore bc it just doesn’t feel like you.

ꨄ︎ U is for Unfair

Oli is a tease. When he’s really into his dominant role in the bedroom he makes it his mission to drag you out as long as he can. He wants you seeing stars, blabbering nonsense, drooling his name, begging him for some sort of release. On the flip side he’s also a beast and wants to see you on the verge of tears after your 8th orgasm that night. He’s either overstimulating you or treating you like a little brat.

ꨄ︎ V is for Volume

AHHHH ok this man moans. Hear me out! He would honestly cry if he fucked you and you didn’t make a single sound and he imagines that you would feel the same way too so he really doesn’t hold back when it comes to moaning, groaning, even whimpering, whatever sound you’ve drawn out of him, he wants you to hear it. When you come around his cock and your pussy clenches down on him through your waves of pleasure he really loses it. No words could be said by him during this time just incomplete breaths and strangled moans. Don’t even get me started on when you suck him off. (He loves sounding dirty for you)

ꨄ︎ X is for X-Ray

Oliver is definitely above average in terms of length. He’s standing at about 8.5 inches, 9 on a good day. His cock isn’t too girthy but it’s proportional to his length. He curves slightly upwards and his veins are rather prominent.

ꨄ︎ Y is for Yearning

Oliver is always yearning for you sexually and emotionally when he’s away and he can’t be with you. Even if he isn’t away and you’re just busy doing work or something he is so bothersome to have around bc he constantly wants to be touching you (running his hand up your skirt) or kissing you (all over your body).

ꨄ︎ Z is for Zzz

Sex doesn’t wear him out too much. One of his favorite parts about fucking you is actually the part where you guys are done and you’re laying side by side holding each other talking until you both fall asleep. He loves the sound of your tired voice as you tell him about your day and the intimacy of the skin on skin contact. He holds you like a little baby kitten, with gentle caressing, smoothing his hand down your sides or along your back, carding his fingers through your hair or resting his hand on your face rubbing his thumb on your cheek (which very heavily contrasts the way he was digging his fingers into your hips as he fucked the life out of you just minutes ago)

My god what a trip. This is actually my first time writing anything NSFW ever!!!! So sorry if it’s kinda ass :( either way I needed to write something to fill the oliver aiku shaped hole in my heart. Love you guys, stay safe :)

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harrystylesfan2686 · 1 year ago

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Pieces Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of the break up has different effects on both, Azriel and Reader.

A/N: yall I'm sick🥲 the updates might be late but I'll try to post as much as possible. Hope you like this one!

Pieces Masterlist

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It's been one month.

One month of Healing.

When azriel left, I told myself that I will not contact him until I'm ready. Doesn't matter how much I'm missing him or wanting him. I will not talk to him until I know I won't take him back the second I see him again.

I gave myself two days. Two days to sulk all I wanted. I spent the whole time crying and feeling miserable about myself. Before Az left at least, I wasn't by myself. At least I saw him once a day.

Now? Nothing.

I am totally alone. His absence hit me Hard. Everything I saw, almost brought me to my knees.

The kitchen where we would make dinner together, laughing and joking with each other that many times ended with us covered in flour and syrup.

The couch where we would sit cuddling and talking until we fell asleep, always waking up with strained muscles.

His office where he would sit on his chair in front of his desk, writing out reports and whatnot while I sit in his armchair reading my book. Just enjoying each others company and occasionally taking breaks to make out on the very deck, and then some.

After those dreadful days though, I called Feyre and Mor and had a very much needed girls night. We took out a wine bottle and I spilled everything to them. My mind was too drunk to think my feelings about Elain might offend Feyre but she genuinely felt sad for me and embarrassed about her sister. The poor girl even apologised to my about Elain's behavior to which I immediately told her it wasn't her fault.

When I told them how lonely it got being alone in a big house like this, they suggested maybe I should get a job or something to keep my mind distracted and promised that they'll visit me often. So I did juat that.

I found a part time job at a local library. I have to admit, I'm really enjoying it. I'm the second assistant to the sweetest lady, Hilda, who owns the shop. I don't do much, just help her in small things like adjusting books on self or helping in shipping books out or in. Layla, the first assistant, handles most of the work around the shop. My job is basically doing what she asks of me. The salary isn't much but I don't care because it's never been about money.

The first week was very hard. Everyday after I came home, the silence felt like a slap on the face, reminding me of everything I lost.

But, slowly, I became comfortable with it. Now it's doesn't hurt me as it did before.

There were many times when I think of Azriel, tears filled my eyes, but I never let them free. I sucked them in and did anything else that didn't made me cry, like taking baths, baking my favorite chocolate brownies, reading in front of the fire place while drinking hot coco or calling my friends to take me shopping.

And as time went. I started to heal. I started to feel good, happier with myself. And without even realizing it, I started to love myself.

-☆-

Azriel

It's been one month.

One month of regretting everything I did to my mate.

I've spent my whole month sulking in this room, crying and regretting everytime I chose Elain over my wife. I haven't slept at all since I came here, just enough to keep me functioning. My appetite is gone. I don't eat unless Rhys come and force feeds me like I'm some baby.

I told Rhysand and Cassian everything the first morning i stayed here. Which earned me a flick to head by Cassian and a very disappointed look from Rhys. Even though they didn't give me any scolding(which I very much deserved), the flick and expression said enough.

Rhys has refrained me of any work, handling it himself or having someone else do it. While I have been sitting around here and hating myself. It seems like even my mind has declared itself an enemy, showing me memories of everytime I dismissed Y/N and hurt her in any way at most random times, cutting a deeper cut in my heart everytime.

"Hey Az, I was thinking if we could go out for dinner tonight? There is this new amazing restaurant I saw while walking near Sidra. I really want to try it." She told me as I put on my coat, ready to go.

"I can't, I have a mission for today. Rhys told me it's important so I can't skip. We'll go some other time. Okay?"

"Ok."

I could hear the excitement in her voice when she asked me and the hurt when I rejected her and promised to go another time. The time never came. She never asked again. And I never noticed.

"Az, are you awake?" She whispers in the dead of night. Both of us sleeping on the bed. My back to her, hoping to fall asleep quickly because I have early training tomorrow.

Cassian is spending time with Nesta more, so Rhys has told me to go to an illyrian camp to check how things are going. I have to wake and go there early to catch them off guard to see what's truly going on.

I can't do that if Y/N doesn't let me sleep.

I didn't answer her that night, hoping if i dont respond, she'll think im asleep and doesnt call me again. She really didnt call me again. I prioritized my sleep over her. Her voice sounded so small. She needed me. And I didn't care.

"So, I saw a really cute baby in garden today and..." I drone out her babbling and try to quickly I can get out of here, I promised Elain to help in her garden today. She'll be disappointed if I show up late.

"Az? You're listening to me right?" She suddenly questions, I clear my throat and answer a small, of course, she nods and takes a deep breath, not saying anything anymore. I sign in relief of the silence.

I put my head in my hands and tug hard on my hair, wanting to feel hurt, hurt the kind that she clearly felt and I didn't care.

I hate myself more and more as memories flash through my mind. I can't even cry at this point. I wished she'd hit me when we fought. Slaped and paunched some sense into me. I don't blame her at all for not talking to me. Gods, I wouldn't even blame her if she left me. I deserve it.

How do I fix this?

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Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @going-through-shit @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum @cat-or-kitten

#acotar fandom #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x reader #pieces

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dilf-rot · 5 months ago

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Avoidant Attachment

based on Anon request : could you do a fic of meeting Logan and wade in the void and joining the team? Logan and you are into each other but are kinda awkward hide behind being mean to each other wades so over it later on smuttt <3333

Word Count: 5841

Tags: Wolverine x Reader, Worst!Wolverine x Reader, Logan howlett x Reader, Fem!Reader (kinda?), Wade is here too, Meeting in the Void, Deadpool 3, Deadpool and Wolverine, Laura is Also here, 5 people in a one bedroom apartment is a great idea, Althea is here briefly, dogpool mention, slower burn but like not really, mutual pining, Wade and Laura as wingmen, insults as flirting, eventual smut, One bed trope included, P in V, Riding

AN: This one took a lot longer than I was expecting, probably since I haven’t written Wade before and I didn’t want it to suck, and also because I was quite busy irl. Regardless, thank you for the request and your patience, Hope you don’t mind my interpretation of the prompt<3

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!)

MDNI 18+

—------------------

The Void. Boring as Hell, and yet somehow worse than hell. At least Hell would grant you company, shitty company, but better than the dust and trash here. You don’t even remember why you got put here. Probably some bullshit you weren’t even responsible for. You had a pretty lame set up, just a hole in the ground really. And you’d find garbage to shift through, look for food. You had managed to do pretty well on your own for a decent amount of time. Other than being lonely, and the occasional breakdown, things weren’t so bad.

The air was stale and unremarkable, as was the sky, no sign of oncoming doom or any excitement for the day. Or so you thought.

Over the horizon of dusty dirt and forgotten garbage, appeared two silhouettes.

As they approached, inching closer and closer you debated on whether you should interact or just ignore, they didn’t seem like they had been here long.

You watched closely waiting for your moment to make a move. Listening to them as they approached.

Deadpool. Common, usually annoying.

But the one with him. That’s a rather rare sight. You had never seen one of him before.

They seemed like they were on a mission, maybe trying to escape from here. If you could escape, maybe you could return to something approaching a normal life again.

You decide to take the chance.

“Hello,” You pop out from your little shelter. Both men jolt into action, blades and guns drawn. The man in yellow, the interesting rare man, had blades coming out of his hands. “Oh no, not a threat.”

They regard each other and then put the weapons away.

“Knew I smelt something,” his voice was rough and it added to his appeal for sure.

“And you didn’t want to say anything? Some blood hound you are!” Deadpool spoke, punching the gruff one in the shoulder.

“Sorry, I know you’re a Deadpool. But you are?” You point to him.

“Logan,” “Wolverine,” they speak out in tandem.

“Right, so… what’re you doing this far out?”

“Not telling you random dirt dweller,” Deadpool looked back towards Logan, and seemed to be weighing his options.

“Ok well, if you decide to be friendly I could offer my help.”

“You don’t look like you’d be of much help,” Logan retorted as he looked you over. You were obviously smaller and not as strong as either of them, but you had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Ouch, I would be offended if you didn’t have hair like kitty ears.” You pointed up at Logan’s hair and he seemed surprised by your response. “I’ve been in the void longer than you, I’m sure I know some things that would be useful to you,”

“Listen, Kid-”

“Yeah, me and Kitty Cat here are trying to get back at that bald freak show of a woman and escape this hell. So unless you know how to do that, I’d stay out of it, dust bunny.”

You laugh and look at the state of them, confused but still combative, barely holding it together and hardly friends. “That’s a good one. Good luck with Cassandra then, Ketchup and Mustard.”

Deadpool gasps and Logan seems to have the inklings of a smile on his face but it quickly fades when you turn to look at him. You sit down on a nearby piece of rubble and watch as they take a few steps away and start to argue about what the plan is. You smile and wave when they look back at you.

“Ok, so what do you know?” Deadpool asks, rushing back up to you. And so you do your best to fill him in on as much as you know about the void itself and Cassandra. All of which seems to not be that useful to him as he just sort of brushes it off and continues, “Well as much as I’d love to have you on the team sunshine, seems like Wolvie over there isn’t too keen on it.” He points over to Logan, who turns away and kicks some dust and debris around. “But, between you and me, he’s just bad with girls. Especially pretty ones with quick mouths.”

You blush a bit but return a quick retort, “That’s fine, not like I have anything to escape back to anyway. Good luck, random Deadpool.”

“It’s Wade.”

“Right,” You wave as he runs back to Logan. You imagined it wouldn’t be that long before you see them again, mostly because you had planned on following them, or at least trailing them for long enough to find a new place to stay.

—-----------

You meet them again at the safe house with Laura, she drove them here and plopped them down without a word. She had been very welcoming when you had wandered this way in search of food, and let you join them for a quick meal. You had told her that you saw Wolverine, and her interest had been piqued. She explained to you everything that had happened before she was sent here, and the two of you bonded over not having something to return too. Although now, with this Wolverine sitting in the same space, it seemed like her chances were looking up.

You figured you’d let them be once they woke up, and wait it out. By the time everyone had finished their speeches, you just stood behind them and waved. You didn’t have much to say, everyone else had much more valid reasoning for wanting to escape than you. You could hardly remember life before the void, if you even had one. Luckily, nobody ever bothered to press you about it, probably assuming you had forgotten for a valid reason. So when Deadpool- Wade, asked you for your input, you sort of just shrugged. Listening to them all plotting was entertaining at least, you were sure you would be of much use, maybe an extra distraction, at the very least you could cover them enough to get the job done.

You noticed Logan slip out with a bottle of liquor in his hands. You gave Laura a nod before following him outside.

He had started a fire, and was sitting watching the flames.

“So how’d someone like you end up with someone like that?” You gesture back up to the house, as you stand against a tree, watching the fire flicker in front of him.

“It’s complicated.” He says taking a swig from the bottle.

“It always is.” Silence runs through the trees, nothing but crackling fire and the dead stale air of the void. “At least he seems fun.”

“Hah,” He breathes out.

“If that’s what you’re into.”

“No.” His gruff demeanor drops for a second, the bottle halting as he brings it down from his lips.

“No?”

He looks you over, before turning away.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll say a prayer for your liver,” You reference the bottle in your hand. He nods, and you walk back up to the house, passing Laura on your way in. She’d probably have better luck cracking him than you.

You wondered if you would ever have a chance to mean something to him, to be more than some small tag along he sniffed out in the dirt. If he would ever find you to be a friend, an ally, someone to talk to, depend on. But you hardly just met, and hardly discussed anything other than half baked insults and nihilistic opinions of the void and your futures.

—----------------

Wade and Logan had somehow convinced the TVA after everything with Cassandra to allow you and Laura to stay in this universe, and you weren’t sure how or why they wanted you to come along. Laura made sense, he felt responsible for her, and to make up for losing her Logan, to make up for missed moments.

You? You hardly had a clue why they wanted you here. Or why they offered to let you stay with them until you found something else. You were surprised that Althea would agree to having 5 people sleeping in a tiny apartment. You appreciated the shelter, you were just very very confused by the entire situation.

“Hello my little floor sleeper, how were your dreams? You were moaning about something…” He slides up next to you in the kitchen as you're pouring a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Wade.” You sip from the mug, not answering his nonsense.

“So,” he jumps up to sit on the counter in front of you, “You gonna spill? Tell me all about your honey badger dream fling? I was surprised you didn’t just wake up and mount him right there on the floor.”

“Shut up, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, the three of us sleep in the same tiny space, I hear everything.”

“I’m gonna steal the couch space from you if you don’t drop it.”

Laura had been given a space in Althea’s room since the boys figured she deserved it, and You, Logan, and Wade were stuck in the living room. Rotating between the couch and cheap air mattresses, usually you just stayed on the floor and let Logan and Wade fight over the couch space. Compared to sleeping on grass and dirt in the void, an air mattress was a definite improvement. As long as Mary Puppins didn’t lick you to death in your sleep, it wasn’t a bad deal.

“Come on, just admit you like Loggie Bear and I’ll get you some alone time with or without the couch.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Currently, no.”

You sigh, and walk towards the bathroom to change, locking the door behind you as Wade continues to ramble and try to get you to slip and say something about Logan. But you won’t, even if he is right.

There were many nights where you thought about climbing into bed next to him and pressing your face against his chest, breathing in his scent, being held close to him by those utterly ridiculous arms, having him place warm chaste kisses against the top of your head. But you wouldn’t.

You hardly knew him, and what you knew about him led you to believe that he was not the kind of man to be interested in someone like you. Although he had become more pleasant after having been invited into Wade’s life. Some days he still was that gruff sort of emotionally unavailable man you met in the void, but other days he’s sweet and gentle and kind, usually whenever Laura’s around. It’s as if he’s been given a reason to live again and he’s navigating how to be a person again.

After you get dressed, you grab your bag and head out, avoiding Wade and his nonsense. You told Laura you’d meet her after her class and go to a cafe she’s been wanting to try. It’s just down the street from the apartment, but the walk is nice and gives you time to get your thoughts back in order. Trying to keep Wade’s pestering from seeping in and getting you to slip up.

When you get to the cafe, Laura is waiting for you outside. You go in and are met with soft florals, sleek wood finish, and the overwhelming smell of coffee. It is so cozy and bright, a welcome break from the dim and crowded apartment. Laura orders something you didn’t know was a thing, and you opt for a simple latte. She finds this funny and smiles at you, “Don’t you want something sweet?”

“No, I’m alright.” You lean against the wall as you wait for your order.

“What’s with you and Logan’s hatred for sugar?” She asks as she slides over to stand next to you.

“I don’t hate sugar, I’m just not in the mood for it.” You shrug and stare at the counter.

“At least you get milk with your coffee, better than black like Logan drinks.” She laughs again and grabs your order when it’s called. The two of you find a nice table by the window and enjoy watching the people passing by. When a particularly handsome man passes by, Laura perks up and asks, “How about that one?”

“He’s alright, not really my type though,” You shrug your shoulders and take another sip from your cup.

“You’re right, I already know your type.” The grin on your face reminds you of how Wade greets you in the mornings.

“Oh yeah? What's that?” You look at her quizzically.

“Starts with an L and ends with an ogan”

You groan, “Don’t I get enough of that from Wade?”

“I think everyone can see it but you, even Al.” She looks up at you from her drink, in a way you both know she’s right.

“Wow,” is all you can muster in response.

“I don’t know why you won’t do something about it, and look if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I give you full permission to pursue my not Dad kinda Dad.”

You quickly try to change the subject, and once your coffee's finished and you’ve loitered around, you walk back in a knowing silence.

You do have some sort of crush on Logan, but you feel like it would be too ideal to expect him to share those feelings. Especially when you aren’t one hundred percent sure what those feelings even are. He is exceptionally good looking, and well built. If it weren’t for his confrontational attitude and lack of expression, you’d be so certain in your attraction. But there is something blocking you from fully admitting it to yourself.

Maybe it is simply your lack of self, having to build back an identity from nothing, that keeps you from knowing if He is it for you. Even though sometimes he is all you can think about. When you catch him playing dad with Laura. When you catch him helping Althea, a gentle smile plastered on his face as he speaks soft and gentlemanly. When he falls asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in his arms. The images of the side he works so hard to hide, the soft domesticity he allows himself so rarely. That is what really sticks in your brain.

Along with the less than innocent images you have carved into your brain. Like that time he forgot you were home and came out from the bathroom only wrapped in a towel. The water clinging to his muscles and dripping from his hair. Or when he had his sleeves rolled up while walking around the apartment, the skin shiny from sweat, and all you could think about was what it would feel like to be held in place by them.

When you remember yourself, both you and Laura have made it back to the apartment.

—-------

You were surprised that for once, everyone was home for dinner, and it wasn’t even a special occasion. Wade decided that it would be easiest to order some pizzas to avoid having to cook. You didn’t complain, even if you would have preferred a home cooked meal, pizza was fine. Of course he had gone to pick it up and left you with Logan, Laura, and Althea. She, reasonably so, had her spot already picked out in the armchair by the window. Logan and Laura were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, watching something on tv. All the while you sat on the floor, legs folded over each other, leaning back on your hands.

“Why don’t you come sit on the couch?” Laura had asked, and you knew she already knew the answer, which was that you didn’t want to be so close to Logan that you would be touching. You had been cultivating a very specific environment with him, one where if you could just avoid any close contact with him, you could pretend like your heart didn't ache at the thought of him.

“I’m good here,” You didn’t bother looking away from the tv, which you weren’t even watching.

“Come on,” Laura patted the cushion next to her.

“Maybe I don’t want to sit next to the cat,” You looked over your shoulder at them. Logan was leaning back into the cushions behind him.

“I don’t want to sit next to you either,” His tone was only slightly malicious.

“Good.”

“Just sit on the couch,” Laura insisted.

“No. He reeks, I think the animal dna gave him the scent too,” You waved your hand in front of your nose.

“But I don’t smell,” Laura sniffed her shirt.

“You reek too, ya know?” Logan pointed to Mary Puppins in the corner, “Probably cause you’re always sleeping next to that.”

“Thanks. She’s actually a better roommate than you.”

“You all stink,” Althea commented from her spot.

As you stood up to walk towards the kitchen the door swung open. “PIZZA TIME!” Wade shouted, carrying the stack of boxes into the apartment.

You ate mostly in silence, as Wade rambled on about something or someone that you had no interest in. Lately he was obsessed with those trashy reality tv shows were people all live in one house and things go wrong one way or another. You felt like you were already living in that, no need to watch strangers go through it too. It’s not that you felt like you were walking on eggshells, or that you weren’t welcome. More so that you were waiting for this whole thing to blow up in your face.

—---------

It was late in the morning when you managed to roll out of your bed. Logan and Wade had already been awake and were trying their hardest to be quiet. Rather, Logan was quiet, and Wade was not. You didn’t hear what they were talking about, only that Logan mumbled something under his breath and Wade turned to see you sitting up on the floor.

“Good morning sleeping beauty! Pancakes or waffles?” He turned to you and you saw he was wearing one of those tacky ‘kiss the chef’ aprons.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stood up to stretch, “Whichever you’re less likely to burn.”

Wade feigned offense, as you walked into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. “How do you manage to sleep so soundly down there?” Wade called from the kitchen as you walked back into the living room.

“I don’t.” You pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table, still groggy. “Which is why I need to get a job, and my own place.”

“You’re leaving me?” Wade gasped, and crossed his hands over his heart. “How could you? What about the kids?” He started making a big fuss about it as if you hadn’t told him before that this had been your plan. “I can’t believe you would leave me alone with honey badger and the little ones! I can’t raise them alone.”

“Everyone that lives here is an adult, Wade.”

“Let her be,” Laura said as she slid into the kitchen and sat next to you. She smiled at you and nodded.

Wade and Logan joined you at the table, sliding the plates of pancakes to you and her. They weren’t burnt, which was progress.

—--------

You had spent the day job hunting, and apartment hunting, which was not as important since you kinda needed the money first. The cafe you had been to with Laura was hiring, though not having much of a resume due to the whole void and lack of a world thing, probably meant your chances of getting hired were slim. You submitted an application anyway, and to a few other shops and things in the area. Hopefully something would stick.

There really weren't many options in the area for apartments either, but when you ran into the building manager they had mentioned that one of the other units on your floor might be opening up soon. It wasn’t ideal to be in the same building as Wade and the others, but it was your only lead at the moment.

When Wade got home, he had a sort of look in his eyes, which you had learned meant something was up. And when Laura came home with the same sort of look, you were even more suspicious.

“What are you two doing?” You asked, approaching them in the kitchen.

“Well I thought I could do something nice for you,” Wade had his hands behind his back, holding something hidden from you. “And Logan,” he whispered but you still caught it.

“What?” Logan appeared from the bathroom, and leaned against the wall.

Wade handed you a piece of paper, “Tada!” You looked over the paper, it was a reservation confirmation for a hotel. “A magical getaway for you and the kitty cat to work out your differences at an all inclusive resort!”

“This is a Best Western.” The dates on the sheet were for tomorrow, Friday, until Sunday morning.

“Did I stutter?” Wade stood with his hands on his hips.

“Who said I wanted to do this?” Logan asked, coming up behind you to look at the paper. He was so close you could almost feel his warmth against you.

“Come on, you complain about the air mattress all the time,” Laura started, “This is your chance for a real bed.”

“Ok? So why do I have to go with her,” He was looming behind you, and the deep vibrations of his voice made your cheeks redden.

“It was cheaper to have two guests than one.”

“Fine,” He walked away. You were also surprised that he would so quickly agree to something like this. As it was so obviously a set up. A plot against you.

“Perfect! Now go get packing!” Wade slapped you on the shoulder, and smiled. You knew this was all his idea.

—-------

You were expecting this to be a set up, but when you opened the door and saw only one bed you knew it to be true. Logan walks in while you hold the door and he drops down onto the edge of the bed. You sigh as you drag your bag in and make a mental note to get back at Wade later. You turn the TV on to try to dispel the oppressive silence in the room, but all that's on the hotel cable is questionably written Hallmark movies. Logan shifts on the bed, and you hear it creak under his weight. You wonder what he would feel like on top of you, if he would crush you entirely.

You sit in the chair that's against the wall, peering out through the cracks in the curtains to stare out at the parking lot, the sun is low against the horizon, and it’s surprisingly quiet. You can hear the fabric of the cheap hotel sheets rustling under Logan, along with the sound of his breathing, as he leans back into the bed, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to survive in a small room alone with him.

Despite having slept in the same room for the past few months, this is an entirely different situation. There’s no Wade, or Laura, or Mary puppins, or Althea. It is just you and him, in a hotel room, with one bed. Which was certainly a set up from Wade, in his quests to get you to admit your feelings for Logan.

“Are you hungry?” You try to break the silence in the most mundane way possible, at least to save yourself from the discomfort.

“I could eat,”

“We could get room service?”

“Fine by me.” You toss him the menu and once you both decide on what to get you call it in. It was going to take a while, so you decided to take advantage of the luxury of a hotel shower. Telling Logan you wouldn’t be too long and to let you know if the food came before you were done.

The shower is nice, clean white tiles, and a rather standard sort of set up. It is nice to have some time to yourself, despite Logan being in the other room, you try to allow yourself this time to relax. Letting the hot water soak into your skin and soothe your aches and pains. The sound of the water blocking out any thoughts or concerns about the current situation, letting you forget, at least momentarily, that you would be having to sort out the sleeping arrangements. The hotel soap is tropical, but gentle, not too overwhelmingly sweet or fruity. As you lather up you can barely hear the sounds of the tv in the other room. It is so still and unremarkable. It feels normal, but somehow you wonder if you can ever shake the loneliness of time in the void, if you can allow yourself to have a normal life again. As if you can build back something you don’t even remember. As if you deserve this space that has miraculously been carved out for you, for some reason unbeknownst to you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, and the noise of Logan’s steps going to retrieve the room service. You quickly rinse and towel off, wrapping up your hair and sliding into the hotel bathrobe.

“Food’s here,” Logan calls from behind the bathroom door. You wait until you hear him sit back down on the bed before opening the door and returning to your spot in the chair.

The two of you eat in silence, and you can’t help but notice his eyes on you. You wonder if it is just in your head, or if he is actually trying to steal glances at you from across the way. You tried to ignore him, to stare fully at the trash tv movie, or at the weird art on the walls. Anything but him. If you could just pretend like he wasn’t there, you could make it for the next two nights.

Although being this close to him in a small hotel room was not the ideal scenario to make forgetting about him easy. His breathing was audible. His presence was palpable. Even the vague scent of whiskey, cigars, and sweat was radiating from his position on the bed. Every little detail filled your mind with a fog, and all that was running through your brain was him. Over and over. Logan was everywhere.

“You want to sleep soon?” His voice cut through the haze and you practically snapped your neck to look over at him.

“Hm? Oh… uh yeah probably.” You couldn’t help but look directly into his eyes, and you felt like you should disappear so that he couldn’t make you feel so foolish. So utterly trapped by the idea of him. “I can Just take the cushions from the chair and sleep on the floor,”

“That defeats the whole point of Wade’s gift.”

“So?” You started pulling the cushions of the chair and throwing them on the floor.

“You can sleep up here in the bed,” His voice was commanding. It was no longer a polite suggestion. “I don’t bite.”

“Right but-” As you go to protest, he interrupts.

“We can face opposite ways.”

And so that is how you ended up in your pajama shorts and a ratty tee shirt, in bed with Logan. Who, true to his word, had his back facing you, and you had your back facing him. You could hear your heart beating, and no matter what you told yourself you could not get it to slow down. His presence, only inches away, was consuming you. Your mind is unable to stop racing with images of him holding you down, touching you, eating you alive. Making you squirm beneath him. You squirmed and thrashed trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but even with your eyes screwed shut you couldn’t.

“Stop moving,” Logan’s voice was low and rumbly. He turned towards you, and laid his arm over your middle, pulling your back against him. “Go to sleep,” He murmured, his lips against the back of your head.

He was warm and solid behind you, his body pressed to yours gently. His grasp on you wasn’t tight, but the sheer weight of him kept you firmly in place. As you tried to quell your heart and steady your breathing, you finally managed to drift asleep. And stay asleep, the entire night.

—-----

The hotel was so quiet and peaceful, and clean, compared to the apartment. You managed to sleep soundly, and stay asleep until late in the morning. You had nearly forgotten about the situation, until you were met with Logan’s arm still snuggly wrapped around you as you opened your eyes.

His lips were pressed to the back of your head, his muscular frame firmly pressed against your back. His grip had tightened in the night, and he had pulled you even closer to himself. As you tried to remove yourself from him, he grumbled against you, “Stay.”

“Logan-” You tried to protest, to escape from the growing embarrassment and heat building up in your body.

“Just a bit longer.” He groaned, and pressed himself further into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the growing bulge against your lower back.

“Logan, please. Let me get up.” You pushed against his arm, and tried to pull yourself away but you were no match for him.

“Why?” His voice was losing the grogginess of sleep, he was almost fully awake now.

“Because-” You tried again to free yourself.

“Don’t you like me?” He sounded cocky, the question perhaps meaning to be playful but it stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I-” You stiffen, unable to react accordingly.

“Then, stay.” Taken aback by his words and sudden clingy behavior, you realized that maybe Laura had been right, and everyone, including Logan, could see it. The way you had begun to feel about him, the almost immediate crush you developed as soon as you spotted him in the void, the way you felt thankful to have the chance at life again, simply because you wanted the chance to spend it with him.

You lay stuck in his arms for an unknown amount of time, the silence makes you a little uneasy, but his warmth and tenderness keeps you from leaping away. You didn’t imagine him to be someone so gentle, although you had glimpsed some of his more domestic behaviors when he thought it was just Him and Laura at home, and he would fuss over her like how you would want a good father to do. You felt safe and held by him, the frantic thoughts and anxieties being melted away into the warmth of him and his body against yours.

As you nearly drift asleep again, he speaks, “Turn around.” And so you do, clumsily, but when you see his face those frantic thoughts and the racing of your heart begins again.

“So pretty like this,” He murmurs, his face and voice soft. And before you can respond he closes the gap between you, his hand lacing in your hair and pulling you into him as he presses his lips against your gentle and steady. The brief taste of him makes you crave more.

As he pulls away to search your face for any signs of discomfort, you pull him back to you, your hands reaching up to his face to crash your lips into his. You whimper against him as his hands run down your spine and land on your hips, pulling you as close to him as he can. You can feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as he darts his tongue in to meet yours, twisting and tangling yourself with him as much as you can. The months of unspoken tension pouring out of you and dissipating as you desperately try to push yourself against him. You bring your hand down to paw at his bulge, darting your fingers across the fabric of his pajama pants.

He smiles against you as he catches your hand with his and bring it under the waistband. You gasp when you realize he had not been wearing anything underneath his pants. Your fingers wrapping around him, the warmth and size of him in your hand making your head spin.

His hands find their way to the edge of your shorts, pulling them and your panties down your legs as he breaks the kiss only for a moment to find his breath. His fingers trace up and down your thighs, pressing gentle circles into the skin before he pushes his hand between them, his palm pressing into you. The brief friction against your clit drawing a short moan from you. His hand rubs against you, the pressure making you grind down to meet him, craving more.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, only for him to grab your hips and pull you on top of him. His back against the bed as he brings you to straddle him. You kick your shorts and panties away, as he pulls his pants down further. His erection springing up against you. You can barely focus long enough to glimpse the size of him, too overcome with greed and arousal.

You sink yourself onto his cock as his hands guide your hips. You moan at the stretch of it. He lets you catch your breath as you take him down to the hilt. His hands never leave you as he kisses and nips along your neck and shoulders, your head pressed against his shoulder as he begins to rock into you, whispering praises and filth against your skin.

You grind your hips against his, the head of his cock dragging along that magic spot inside of you that causes the pleasure to build and the knot in your stomach to tighten. He growls in your ear as you tighten and pulse around him. You can feel the pressure building, making your head spin. He slips his fingers into your mouth and you greedily accept them, sucking and licking and kissing along them. He removes them and a trail of your saliva beads down them. He brings them between you to rub circles on your clit. The sensation dizzying, as he draws you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are frantic as you practically pant against him, begging him not to stop, that you’re so close, so so close.

With one steady thrust he snaps the last thread and you come undone around him. The feeling of you cumming around him bringing him to his limit, if he wasn’t so enraptured by you he might have been embarrassed with how quickly you’ve made him cum. His warmth fills you as you come down from your high, hazy and drooling. You smile as he presses you against him. You don’t mind staying like this, you whine when he tries to move.

“Alright, princess. I’ll stay.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

#wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #deadpool and wolverine

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holdmymallowsweet · 6 months ago

Text

What are you doing here? 01

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 4328, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Falling right between the awkwardness of their first encounter outside the Undercroft and their jaunt into the Scriptorium, Ominis and the new fifth year have an innocuous little meet up in the library.

a/n: I’ve always wondered why Mc would offer to talk to Ominis about the Scriptorium, when their last interaction outside the Undercroft was so hostile, and I figured there could have been another conversation in between- not anything deep or meaningful, just a little chat that made it clear that they don’t hate each other. So that’s what this is, and although it’s now the first chapter/prologue of a slow-burn longfic, it was originally a oneshot and can still be read as such, if you prefer. Enjoy! And many, many thanks to @myokk for encouraging me to finally post this, you're the best ❤️

Masterlist || Chapter 02

Chapter 01 - Invitation

Sending her that letter might have been a mistake.

Ominis Gaunt had been sitting in the library for hours now, waiting for someone who, he now realised, in all likelihood would not come.

“I heard you running around aimlessly in the defence against the dark arts tower again today. If you enjoy my company that much, perhaps you would like to join me in the library this evening. I’ll wait.”

It was supposed to be a playful way of telling her he was not angry anymore, a sort of peace offering after he had yelled at her outside the Undercroft.

It was only after he’d sent the letter that he realised it probably sounded presumptuous and rude beyond belief. Words on parchment couldn’t tell the reader what tone of voice they’d like to be read in, at least not until someone invented a spell for that, but it was too late to take it back.

He sighed. Honestly, he could not remember what possessed him to write the blasted thing in the first place. It had been a whim, a result of his frustration and loneliness when he heard he’d be spending another evening alone because Sebastian had gotten himself detention again. He was not usually that bold, and she was practically a stranger.

They did happen to share a best friend in Sebastian though, so one could hardly blame him for trying to get to know her. In fact, it might be long overdue.

At least that was the excuse he’d use if anyone asked. Or the one he told himself, to be honest.

The truth was, she intrigued him. It took him some time to realise it, but now that he did, he couldn’t let go of the feeling. If Sebastian was to be believed, she was curious about him too, or at least she had been, for a fleeting moment- before his temper got the better of him and he took his frustrations about Sebastian’s betrayal out on her.

Ominis sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.

Someone from across the table shushed him, and his face twitched in slight annoyance.

Oh, he really hoped they’d be gone by the time she showed up, whoever they were.

If she showed up.

By now, it seemed more likely that he’d stay here sulking by his lonesome until it was time to walk back to the dungeons, perhaps facing a bemused Sebastian who’d already know where he’d been. The two of them seemed incapable of keeping secrets from one another, after all.

That would ultimately be the proper punishment for his unreasonable jealousy, her rejection delivered by his best friend.

He’d come to the library with every intention of writing the assigned essay for Herbology, determined not to care too much about whether she’d take him up on his invitation, but it was a lost cause. His self-spelling quill wouldn’t work properly unless he concentrated on the precise words he wanted to put on the parchment, but with his head filled with thoughts of the new fifth year and the undefined nature of whatever relationship they did or didn’t have, all he had managed to write so far was an embarrassing mess.

Ominis considered writing with his own hand, but thought better of it. He could, of course. He’d make notes or short letters without his enchanted quill regularly, but writing an entire essay without being able to tell when the lines would inadvertently run into one another was a daunting task. He’d have to use twice as much parchment as anyone else, and he already felt sorry for Professor Garlick, if she’d have to decipher the mess.

Finally, he decided to just give it up. The door opened, and once again, he strained his ears. He was able to recognize her footsteps by now. Not her, just some unfortunate chap getting chewed out by Madam Scribner for returning his books late.

He was starting to feel ridiculous.

It felt like hours since he’d hurried through the castle, almost slipping on the wet fallen leaves covering the stairs when he left the owlery. Heart thumping with excitement, he’d even made sure to sit at a table where he would, hopefully, be seen by her as soon as she walked in, but far enough away from the librarian to have a conversation without being reprimanded for disturbing the peace and quiet.

Actually, if he hadn’t been so concerned that she might not see him and leave, or that he might miss her coming in, he would have preferred a table in the farthest corner on the second floor, away from prying eyes. She was still the talk of the school and gathered attention wherever she went, and “What is she doing with Gaunt?” was not something he wanted to hear whispered in the corridors.

Thankfully, it was one of the last warm and sunny days before the autumn chill fully set in, so most students were happy to make the most of it and took their work outside. Even Cressida Blume still seemed determined to let Madam Scribner forget her face (not that she would), and he hadn’t heard any other classmate of theirs either.

Sebastian’s detention was pointless busy work as usual- scrubbing or cleaning or something of the sort. Truthfully, Ominis had ceased to pay attention when his friend complained about his punishments long ago. Whatever it was, it kept him far away from the library- no one was foolish enough to try and “punish” Sebastian by letting him get his hands on even more books.

Not that it mattered whether they knew the curious onlookers or not. She was still the object of everyone’s interest and admiration, and with the way things were going, that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. Not while she was so eager and endearing, always willing to drop everything the second someone needed something from her.

Right, it wasn’t like her to deny a request from a fellow student. She’d usually jump at the chance to do someone a favour, even if it came from someone she’d never seen before, even if it was much more bothersome than studying in the library for an hour or two.

So why wasn’t she here?

She wouldn’t have shown anyone his letter, would she? Unless she didn’t have to, if the owl reached her at an inopportune time, Merlin knows who else might have read it over her shoulder.

Ominis could imagine it, them sitting in a circle in the Hufflepuff girl’s dormitory, passing his letter around, seemingly teasing her about it in a playful attempt to get her to be wary of him. Until her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d ask them why precisely they found him so disagreeable. He shuddered.

According to Sebastian, she already knew. She knew, and didn’t care.

According to Sebastian, she also felt apologetic and regretful about their last encounter, much like him.

And if that was the truth- he couldn’t be entirely sure it was, but if it was, why wasn’t she here? Ominis tapped his quill against the parchment, piercing tiny holes into it and probably soaking the table underneath with ink.

He was slowly but surely getting annoyed now. If she was as regretful about invading the Undercroft as Sebastian had made it seem, she should have pounced at the chance to meet up with him and make things right.

Of course, that had been weeks ago, so she might have gotten over it by now. Still, he wasn’t good enough for her to at least show up and quietly do her homework on the opposite side of the table? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any work to do. She always did, with all the extra assignments the Professors threw at her to help her catch up, and even if by some miracle she didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt her to simply study, for once.

She could have come. Ominis frowned. Unless she actually couldn’t.

Notorious troublemaker and rule breaker that she was, he’d often half jokingly wondered when her recklessness would come to bite her in the arse, only it wasn’t unthinkable, was it?

Her duelling skills didn’t make her invincible, it was entirely possible that she was lying dead, or dying, somewhere on the cold forest floor. Small animals and insects already crawling under her robes and the scarf she always insisted on wearing, slowly devouring her corpse while a confused owl pecked at her, trying to get her cold hands to take his stupid, embarrassing letter.

Ominis took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to squash the slowly rising dread.

Stop it. She was fine, she had other things to do, or she thought she was in trouble with him again and didn’t feel like being chastised and insulted all evening. It was annoying that she didn’t even want to find out what he wanted from her- nothing, really, except perhaps a chance to clear the air- but he had no right to complain, he was the one who messed things up.

And his annoyance was merely a way to mask his fear of rejection.

He slumped down, his forehead hitting the table with a soft thud. Ears filled with the sounds of soft footsteps, turned pages and scratching quills, ink from his quill staining his fingertips but nothing to really occupy his mind in her stead.

Why couldn’t he have spent a few more minutes to rewrite that letter, although one could barely call it a letter- the note, why couldn’t he have tried to sound a bit more friendly and inviting? Then again, even a second longer might have caused him to rethink the whole thing, keeping him from sending it at all.

All things considered, that would have been a blessing in disguise, saving him from making an absolute fool of himself.

He’d heard it countless times from the Sallow twins, trying to console him in his moments of self-doubt; that he was a good person, a good friend, that he was fun to be with, but it’s not like she’d ever seen that side of him.

The two of them would make an odd, unlikely combination, but he wanted to get to know her, be near her. His invitation had been a final act of desperation- or perhaps insanity- a desire to hold on to the strange but comforting, tender feeling that rose in his chest whenever he heard her voice in class or her footsteps in the hallways nowadays.

At the very least, he wanted to make sure there was no lingering resentment between them.

The library door opened again, and the next sound to reach his ears suddenly made his head feel blissfully empty.

It was her voice, and he instantly straightened his back and cocked his head to the side to listen better as she greeted the librarian.

She made her way through the library, with eager steps, drawing closer until he could smell her signature scent, then until he could hear her breathing. Ominis noticed she was slightly out of breath.

Had she been in a hurry?

To meet him?

In spite of the confusion, the sick feeling inside him dissolved almost instantly, all thoughts of why she made him wait only to show up hours later forgotten. She cared. She cared at least enough to give him a bit of her time.

“Hello, Ominis,” she said.

He knew she wasn’t one for formalities, calling all of her classmates by their first name without invitation.

What surprised him more was the lack of any bitterness or trepidation he’d expected to hear in her voice, instead, she sounded cheerful, excited, almost.

“There you are. Care to sit down?” he replied, trying his best to sound unbothered while ignoring the sudden flutter of nervousness in his stomach. The scraping of the chair from across the table told him she did.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I’m really sorry.”

Are you?

She sounded genuinely apologetic. Suddenly he realised, with another bout of nerves, that this would be the first time they actually had a proper conversation. Without any shouting. She was here for no other reason than to spend time with him, and more importantly, because he asked her to.

Ominis took perhaps a bit too long to answer, but she didn’t seem to notice. It sounded like she was busy taking her textbooks out.

“It’s all right. It’s not like I was just wasting time waiting for you, I was quite busy.” It was almost not a ridiculous lie, considering he’d been busy indeed, desperately craving her company, making a mess of his homework, hoping she’d care enough to show up. He hoped she wouldn’t think too hard about the messy, half empty parchments littering the table.

It wouldn’t be fair to be upset about it. After all, he invited her on short notice and they never agreed on a time to meet.

“I left as soon as I got your owl, but it took me a while to get here,” she sighed, casually pushing aside his mess on the table to make space for her own.

Why? Where have you been?

Obviously not on school grounds.

“Why would that be?” he said, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I was near Aranshire.”

“Aranshire? What were you up to over there?” He raised his eyebrow. He knew it was one of the Hamlets, the one close to Hogsmeade station, if he wasn’t mistaken, but he couldn’t judge exactly how far away from the castle it was.

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this, and she, ever so perceptive, noticed.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” she said airily.

She doesn’t trust me.

Ominis knew he shouldn’t hold it against her. They barely knew each other, after all, and yet he couldn’t help the tiny stab of annoyance as she was lying to him yet again. If it had been Sebastian, she would have told him.

Then again, Sebastian had never threatened to get her in trouble with the Headmaster.

“Anyway, on my way back something came up and I looked a bit dishevelled by the end of it, and it took me a while to sort that out. That’s why I’m late. I really am sorry.”

“You looked… dishevelled?”

She hummed in agreement, taking a moment to shuffle around pieces of parchment before answering properly. “Just a bit.”

“You do know I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed, and Ominis was almost disturbed by how much he liked the sound of it.

“Fair enough, I suppose, but others would, and I wouldn‘t want to give anyone a reason to stare, or… talk more about me than they already do.”

Ominis tensed. He’d always been aware and annoyed at how much the entire school seemed to gossip about her, but he’d never considered that she’d know, or how she felt about it. There was an odd sort of undertone in her voice.

He wondered yet again how much she knew, or guessed, about the things others said behind his back, when they thought he was out of earshot, always underestimating his hearing. They were careful when Sebastian was close, but they had no reason to hold back when it was just her.

So was she concerned about what the others might say if they saw them together? For her sake, or for his? He was beginning to feel sick again.

“Why did you look ‘a bit dishevelled’ in the first place?” he asked in an attempt to return to the original subject, and perhaps lighten the mood a bit.

“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. “I had a run in with some spiders.”

Oh no.

“Really, nothing to be concerned about.” She added quickly when he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something.

If he had to guess, this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened- in fact he knew it wasn’t. Dragons, Trolls, Dark Wizards, now this- and Merlin knew what else in between. She almost seemed to enjoy it, always roaming around, curious to see what else she could take on.

That recklessness made him uneasy. He had spent the last four years with another one like that, and the two of them being best friends felt like pouring oil in a fire.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Nothing a bath and a Wiggenweld potion couldn’t fix,” she reassured him.

So you did get hurt.

Ominis frowned. He couldn’t smell any blood, and didn’t hear any strange whispers when she came in. She also didn’t sound as if she was in any pain, so she most likely wasn’t lying when she said she was fine now. Her having just taken a bath also explained why the scent of her soap was slightly stronger than usual and not mixed with the earthy, piney smell of the forest that always clung to her when she’d been roaming around the highlands.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught Ominis by surprise. “Certainly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a bit tense. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

Even without sight, he could guess she was pausing to look at him expectantly. Merlin, did she think that’s why he asked her to meet him?

“No, I…” There were a lot of things he would have liked to say to her, and yet he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

He had to say something, though, because the silence between them as she waited for Ominis to finish his sentence was starting to feel oppressive.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how much he was stressing over what, to her, was a casual conversation she had with dozens of others on an average day.

For Merlin’s sake, they were classmates sitting in the library, making smalltalk.

Time to change the subject.

“Really though, what were you doing out there?” He tried his luck again.

“Just the usual.”

Ominis barely managed to suppress a frustrated sigh. “Which would be…?”

She seemed to consider him for a moment. The building frustration from her annoyingly vague answers must have been evident, and Ominis thought for a split second that he’d pushed too far.

“Nothing too exciting. Chatting to some of the locals. Looking for good spots to collect potion ingredients, that sort of thing.”

“Sharp must be very proud of you.”

She laughed that melodic, infuriatingly infectious laugh of hers, and Ominis was both relieved and grateful that the atmosphere lightened considerably again, even as the annoying git who shushed him earlier made a disapproving noise. If she’d heard it, she’d decided to ignore it, and Ominis was more than happy to follow her lead.

“I’m not doing it to please Professor Sharp, I quite enjoy potion making- unlike some of us,” she teased.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t bother denying it, it’s not like I’m imagining the sour look on your face every time I look at you during Potions.”

So she hadn’t been ignoring him, even after everything that had happened. His insides squirmed pleasantly. Perhaps she was still curious about him, after all.

Ominis cleared his throat.

“So, had any success in finding those potion ingredients?” he asked, awkwardly attempting to keep the conversation going.

“Hmm. I’m running out of Horklump juice, but there weren’t any around. I did find some Ashwinder eggs though, at an abandoned poacher camp nearby,” she rambled on absentmindedly, still shuffling around her pieces of parchment. “I’ve always been curious about them, you know. I’d like to see one someday.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. They’re dangerous criminals, you know.”

She held back a laugh. “I meant an Ashwinder- as in the creature, not the poachers. I’ve seen quite enough of them.”

“...it was a joke.”

She giggled. “I’ve been thinking about how I always collect their eggs as potion ingredients, but I’ve never actually seen one,” she mused.

Well, they weren’t exactly the sociable sort, even for snakes.

Ominis had met an Ashwinder once, in the gardens behind his family home, after it had slithered out of an abandoned fire his older brother had been playing around with before he’d wandered off, bored. Excited to have someone to talk to, someone who he’d hoped wouldn’t either dismiss him or use the opportunity for some casual cruelty, Ominis had bent down to greet the little snake. It had told him to sod off and slithered away to lay its eggs. Back then, he’d been sulking the whole day over it.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Shame, he thought ruefully. There he actually had a somewhat funny story about the very thing she was interested in, and he couldn’t even tell her. Not without revealing secrets about himself that he’d rather keep tightly guarded.

“Have you ever heard one?” She inquired.

Ominis stiffened instantly. So much for his tightly guarded secrets. He really would have to wring Sebastian’s neck one of these days. “What do you mean by that?”

“I only meant, well…,” she answered sheepishly, “… you obviously wouldn’t have seen one, and I know you have good hearing. Sorry, did I say something wrong?” She was obviously taken aback.

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He relaxed. So Sebastian hadn’t told her that, at least. He cleared his throat. “You would have to be lucky to see one. They are born from unattended magical fires and only live for about an hour, barely long enough to lay their eggs.”

“Ah.” She was fumbling with her quill, running her fingers along the feathered edges, from the sound of it, seemingly deep in thought, and thankfully not angry at him for snapping at her. “If they’re born from fires, what are they laying eggs for?”

“I think that’s a question better asked of Professor Howin,” Ominis replied. “You’re the one taking Beasts class, not me.”

“So… could I just make a fire somewhere, ‘unattend’ it and wait for one to come out?”

He gave her an amused snort, not sure if she was being serious. “Are you taking a page out of Peeve’s book, trying to burn down the castle?” Brows furrowed, he still flashed her a warm smile as she had a fit of giggles, and a pleasant warmth spread through his body.

“Perhaps I should take a page out of Peeve’s book, that’d make us even,” she said.

Ominis was waiting for her to explain that rather puzzling statement, but she didn’t.

“Meaning…?”

“Never mind.”

He brushed it off. This was all he’d wanted, sitting together, having a pleasant conversation, laughing about each other’s jokes. And yet it didn’t feel quite right, there was still a wall between them, made up of secrecy and lies.

She finally seemed to have started on her work, the scratching of her quill adding to the symphony of the rustling paper and soft hums and whispers surrounding them.

Apologise for yelling at her about the Undercroft.

Ominis wanted to, he really did, and if he was ever going to, now was the time- but he was still embarrassed just thinking about it and he didn’t want to ruin their first decent conversation by reminding her of how horrible he’d been. It might have been easier to talk about if she was the one to bring it up, and he quietly wondered why she didn’t.

Through the ambient sounds, he heard Madam Scribner get up from behind her desk, about to make a final pass through her sacred halls. Reminding students not to leave a mess, picking unwilling volunteers to tidy the mess of the ones who didn’t listen amongst the stragglers who couldn’t flee fast enough, he was almost tempted to make sure it’d be the two of them.

It wouldn’t be fair, though.

Based on her account of how she’d spent her evening so far and his own idle contemplations, they’d both need to dedicate the remaining hours of the day to schoolwork, and she’d already dropped her previous plans as soon as she received his owl- a courtesy far beyond anything he deserved.

They were out of time.

“We should probably leave.”

There she was, slipping through his fingers again. If only she’d arrived half an hour earlier, maybe he could have gathered his nerve and apologised, at least.

“Wait, weren’t we going to do our homework? I haven’t even started, to be honest.”

Ominis smirked. “The library is about to close, you know. I’ve been here for hours before you came in.” Not that he’d been very productive in that time.

“Oh.” She sounded defeated- and perhaps even a bit disappointed?

That might have been wishful thinking on his part.

“I guess I’ll head back to the common room then. If I’m lucky, Adelaide’s still up and I can copy from her.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheating on our assignments, are we?”

“Oh, well. I can’t always be a saint,” she said cheekily.

For a second, Ominis had the urge to walk her back to her common room, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. It felt like it would be too much, walking around the castle with her, giving others the opportunity to make assumptions about a relationship that he himself didn’t yet fully understand.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said instead. He gathered his things, ignoring the growing regret and guilt.

“See you, Ominis. And… if you enjoyed my company enough, perhaps we could do this again?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Sure.”

She laughed. “Cheers.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Her scent and her laughter still lingered and he was left wondering what, if anything, this little get together had accomplished.

Ominis could not have known this would be their last proper conversation before the three of them entered the Scriptorium.

more a/n: Before the Scriptorium though, the next chapter will be a little trip down memory lane, featuring the earful Sebastian got for showing her the Undercroft. It’s finally here! I started working on this a while ago, so if you’ve read this far, thank you! Like I kind of hinted at in the beginning, the concept of this fic is basically “what could they have been up to ‘off-screen’, if canon events stay exactly the same” (up to and including the fact that no one ever mentions mc’s name, we’ll see if I live to regret this decision), and I don’t know if that’s interesting to anyone but myself, but I’d be happy if anyone wants to be along for the ride. Writing from Ominis’ pov is a challenge and I try my best to keep in mind that he’s blind when describing things (so don’t expect visual descriptions of anything, ever), but hopefully without constantly drawing attention to it, I hope I managed to do that respectfully and realistically. That said, if anything feels off to you or you have questions, feel free to let me know. And finally, English is not my first language. I proofread and edit everything I write to hell and back but if I still misspelt anything or obviously misused a word, let me know so I can fix it (just be nice about it). There’s a lot more I wanted to put in the authors’ notes but I think it’s already rambly enough, so I’ll leave it at that. Until next time? (I’ve written a few chapters ahead and I’ll try to upload regularly, but realistically, I probably won’t manage it more frequently than once every 1.5 to 2 weeks)

#hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #ominis fanfic #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #mallow tries to write #WAYDH

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cosmicbucky · 1 year ago

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A chubby reader who's super self conscious of her belly and bust? Like she's strong and stuff, comes with the higher weight, but just....

Cant really wear anything unless it's sweats and a sweater, or a t-shirt. Almost never goes out.

And one day Bucky comes to the compound. Reader immediately gets a crush, and has major anxiety over it, like "leaving the room when he comes near" anxiety. Bucky thinks it's his fault, that he's done something wrong and talks to you about it.

He decides to talk to you about it, crying ensues because insecurities, and then the fluff.

Sorry this ask is so long, I'm kinda scrambled XP

hi, lovely! 💫

first of all, don't apologize for bringing this beautiful request into my world! i was beyond excited to have the chance to bring this idea to life, and i hope the direction i took with it does justice to what you had in mind!

second of all, i am so sorry this took me so long to put out, this request is so lovely and i really wanted to make it the best i could.

i hope you enjoy!

matches

pairing: bucky barnes x midsize!reader

word count: 3974

warnings: insecurities and self consciousness, mild body image issues, brief self depreciating thoughts, angst, mutual pining, fluff, swearing, allusions to mature themes, let me know if i missed anything!

please do not read this if you're not comfortable with any of the above topics. while they are not heavily focused on, they are the main theme of this fic

a/n: big thanks to @buckylattes for reading this and catching some of the dumb ass mistakes i made lmao

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

Being part of the Rescue and Reconnaissance division of Stark Industries wasn't the most glamorous job, but you loved it. You got to work nearly hand in hand with field agents every day, formulating plans for raids, rescues, infiltrations, or general takedown missions to make sure all those involved worked as safely and efficiently as possible.

You were the one they turned to when a new plan was needed; when they were at risk. There were a few agents who refused to listen to anyone other than you when it came to these times - specifically asking for you to help them through.

Agent Barnes was one of these people, and though you could never voice it, he was your favourite to deal with. He was always kind and courteous, understanding in the fact that despite not being in the same rankings as him, you damn well knew what you were doing. And, well, it didn't hurt that he always found a moment to be a charming little flirt.

You have no idea why he had such faith in you. Maybe it was because you always took what he suggested into consideration when calculating next steps. Maybe it was because your ideas were as crazy as his sometimes. Maybe it was simply because he liked the sound of your voice.

You never knew.

You never actually met him.

All your dealings with field agents were done from the safety of your control room. You never minded it, though. It was nice, in a way. You absolutely loved doing what you do, but you would never be able to handle being around field agents all the time. Not when they look the way they do, and you…. well, you're you.

Your thighs touch when you walk, your belly shakes when you laugh, your arms jiggle when you move. You have to painstakingly pick out the right kinds of shirts, otherwise your chest will make it seem like you're three times as big as you really are.

You were the chubby girl who always hid in the shadows, too afraid to let the world see how bright you truly shine - you were a flame ready to ignite, but no one around you ever offered you a match.

You were used to it. You made peace with it a long time ago, finding solace in your own company instead of relying on other people to enjoy your time with. It still bothered you from time to time, and you let yourself have days where you wallowed in it, wishing things were different, wishing you looked different. Though, for the most part, it stopped bothering you so much the older you got.

Until the day you finally met Bucky.

It was a strange day, being sent to the compound. You've never been sent anywhere before, always planted in your seat while talking to field agents across the world. Yet here you were, being requested by Tony Stark himself.

You must have spent hours trying to find the right outfit. One that showed off your curves without accentuating the extra pudge around your middle. One that complimented your chest without highlighting the size. One that showed off your ass without making it look massive. One that carefully hid your arms. One that you felt comfortable in.

It felt like your heart was in your throat the whole time. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a full on frenzy, and you had to take deep breaths every few seconds to stay calm; and to not throw up.

You barely heard it when Tony said he wanted you working under him. You could hardly process it when he said he created a job just for you. You didn't quite understand it when he told you there was space for you at the compound, and he wanted you here full time.

All you could do was dumbly nod your head, trying to focus on what he was saying instead of the fact that Bucky Barnes was just outside the conference room.

By the time the meeting was over, you felt lightheaded. You clutched the contract you were given against your chest and took a final deep breath before leaving the room, hoping to get by unnoticed. It's not like he even knew who you really were, right?

A gentle calling of your name told you that you were very, very wrong.

Your feet became rooted in place as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing all you could on calming your nerves before turning around. And jesus christ, nothing could have prepared you for how beautiful this man actually was in person.

"Hi," you breathed out, a tiny shy smile gracing your lips.

"Hi," he said, unintentionally mimicking you.

His eyes travelled over your face before taking their time roaming your body; you shifted uncomfortably and clutched the contract a little tighter as he stayed fixed on you. A smirk graced his lips, but it was gone before you could really focus on it.

"It's, uh-... it's nice to finally meet you, Agent Barnes," you muttered sheepishly, hesitantly offering him your hand.

"You can call me Bucky," he said, smiling warmly as he took your hand in his, sending fire throughout your whole body. "I'd like to say thank you for saving my ass as often as you do, but thank you doesn't seem like enough."

You chuckled, feeling your face flush under his gaze. "'Thank you' suffices just fine, Bucky. I've only been doing my job."

"Speaking of," he started, tilting his head a little as he eyed the contract you held. "You gonna take it?" he asked curiously, his eyes snapping back to yours.

"What?" you asked, caught off guard by his question.

"The job," he said, gesturing between the contract in your hands and the conference room you just occupied. "You gonna say yes?"

"How do you know about that?" you asked curiously.

"I know things," he said passively, shrugging his shoulders. "How 'bout I show you around? You can see the place before you decide anything."

You wanted to say no. You wanted to run away and retreat into yourself once more. Though something about the way he was looking at you made it hard to do so.

So, you agreed.

And that's how everything started.

You took the job, moving into the compound a few days after that. You quickly made friends with the girls, and they became your support group; they would help you when it came to shopping for clothes or finding the right outfit for events. They offered to go for walks with you or do yoga - anything you felt like doing, really. You still felt inferior to them from time to time, but not because they made you feel that way; no one at the compound did.

Only yourself.

When it came to the boys, it was more or less the same thing. You felt comfortable around them, and you never minded close contact or them seeing you in tighter fitting clothes.

Everyone was family, and it never felt awkward or uncomfortable around them.

Except for when it came to Bucky.

You still grew closer to him over the months of you living at the compound so far, but it hasn't been easy. It was a constant challenge, and it grew harder for you day after day.

When it came to you working alongside him on his missions, everything was great. Nothing with him changed, aside from him throwing out a few more flirty comments. And, since you still had the safety net of being behind comms, you threw some right back at him.

Once the missions were over, though, it was hard to be around him. You wanted to be around him, but it was nearly impossible. Your feelings for him grew, and the stronger your feelings were, the more distant you became.

You were careful to only wear sweaters or loose tees paired with sweatpants around him, making sure he would never catch sight of the extra weight you carried around. You quit eating around him; it's not like you had bad eating habits, but you couldn't shake the panic that he would somehow be disgusted, that he would think the reason you're so chubby was because of your diet. You stopped sitting near him during movie nights, and you never hugged him. No matter how much you itched to wrap your arms around him when he came home safe from missions, you couldn't risk him feeling the rolls your body carried, or how soft and pudgy you were.

It was driving Bucky crazy.

From the minute he finally set his eyes on you, he couldn't get you out of his head. He was beyond thrilled when you agreed to Stark's offer, and he couldn't wait to take the opportunity to get to know you - which was a massive step for him. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling he did something to upset you.

He grew more confused every day. When it came to conversing over the comms during missions, you two were like a well oiled machine; giggles and flirting and jokes of previous missions. No one would ever know something was amiss.

Yet when everyone would return home, it was like a switch was flipped. You greeted everyone with hugs and smiles and affection, and Bucky always waited patiently for his turn: but it never came. Instead, you turned to him with an awkward smile and shining eyes and gave him the traditional "welcome home, soldier" that, despite everything, always pulled a smile from his lips.

He racked his brain every night trying to figure out if he did something, if he said something, but he could never come up with anything. He could never find a reason for the way you would some days leave the room as soon as he entered, for why you always hid away from him when he would catch you off guard in workout clothes or formal attire. He could never come up with an explanation and it was eating him alive.

The final straw came for him on the night of Pepper’s birthday party.

He didn’t want to go, he never wanted to go to these things, but ever since you came around he found himself more willing to at least make an appearance; if only to see you. However, he wasn’t even positive if you were going to show up this time, given the way you’ve been so distant lately - and that made him not want to go at all. So he was biding his time, sitting in the kitchen and emptying a bottle of whiskey, trying to not make it obvious that he was waiting to see if you’d wander out of your room before he slipped away to the party.

You stood in front of your mirror for what felt like hours, never before feeling more diffident as you assessed your reflection. You’ve been to some of Tony’s parties before, but this was for Pepper - it was the most grandiose one you’ve attended to date. You weren’t left much choice but to dress your fanciest, and you felt so unfamiliar with your own body as your hands trailed down the fabric of your dress. It was form fitting, hugging every curve you had and accentuating your figure in a way you weren’t used to seeing. The straps were small and the cut was low, it travelled midcalf and had a small slit up the side, showing way more of your leg than you wanted. You had a burning desire to change, but Nat insisted you looked incredible, and Wanda already applied a touch of makeup to match the dress - not to mention you were already running late as it was.

With one last heavy sigh, you steeled yourself before slipping on your heels and marching out of your room. You thought of anything and everything you could as you marched down the hall, doing your best to pay no mind to the way you felt the fabric clinging to your body with every move you made. God, you really should have put on shapewear.

Bucky heard you before he saw you, your footfalls echoing through the floor in the same pattern he came to memorize in the months you’ve been here. He took a deep breath, prepared for the fact that you would most likely brush him off once more. He was not prepared, though, for the sight of you as you rounded the corner.

You were not prepared to see him sitting there, clad in a pressed suit, or for him to quite literally choke on the drink he was nursing as he took in your presence.

“Jesus, Bucky. Are you alright?” you inquired, conflicted between staying where you stood and approaching him.

A dismissive wave of his hand had you staying in place, your arms wrapping around your middle as you began to feel exposed to him.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” he coughed out, refilling his glass as if nothing happened.

You stood there quietly, completely unsure of what to do next. The silence was becoming louder and louder but you didn’t want to draw his attention to you. Not when you were looking like this. Not when he’d be able to see every curve and divot of your body, the protrusion of your stomach, the ample raise of your chest. You were really starting to regret not changing.

“Are you gonna stand there and stare all night or head to the party?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the glass before him. His tone was playful, but his voice had a rasp to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, uh - sorry,” you muttered, clearing your throat as you slowly advanced in his direction. “Are, um-… are you gonna join the party?”

He huffed a small laugh, his eyes finally raising to meet yours only to find that you were looking almost everywhere but at him, effectively wiping the small smile from his face.

“I’m not so sure,” he said lowly, downing the contents of his glass as he kept his eyes on you.

You hummed, looking down at your hands before chancing a glance at him; his gaze on you so intense that you immediately looked away again.

“Well, I- I hope to see you there,” you said sincerely, wringing your fingers together. “You look really nice, Buck” you added quietly, looking up at him just long enough to flash him a warm smile before continuing through the kitchen.

“Did I do something wrong?” he called after you, the hurt in his voice impossible to miss.

“What?” you asked in confusion, turning to glance in his direction.

“Did I do something wrong?” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Because ever since you moved in here, it’s like you can’t stand the sight of me.”

You couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that left you, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true.”

“No?” he asked, his tone taking on a new edge. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you can’t even fucking look at me right now. You practically run from me when I enter the same room, you do everything you can to avoid me, and let’s not forget the fact that I’m the only one around here who you don’t hug after getting back from missions.”

“Bucky-” you tried to explain, but the lump forming in your throat stopped you short.

“I just wanna know what I did,” he carried on, voice softer this time. “I don’t know if you’re angry with me or- or if you’re scared of me-”

“I am not scared of you,” you interrupted, finally meeting his gaze. “Please don’t think that.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” he asked quietly. “Everything is fine when I’m out on the field, we- I get along with you better than anyone. But then I come home, and it’s not the same.”

“It’s not-... it’s not like that, Bucky,” you whispered sadly, unintentionally looking away from him again.

“Yeah, if you say so,” he said curtly, sighing in defeat as he filled his glass again. “Just enjoy the party, okay?”

“You’re not coming?” you asked, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Well, you’re just gonna avoid me anyway. Might as well make it easier for you and stay here,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the twirling glass in his hands.

“I don’t want you to think like that,” you admitted softly. “I- I don’t mean to do the things I do.”

“Then why do they happen?” he inquired, his eyes meeting yours and displaying a painful mix of hurt and confusion.

“Because,” you started, feeling your bottom lip quiver. “I mean, look at me, Buck,” you finished, as if that was explanation enough.

“Believe me, I’m looking,” he said gently. “And you look-... well, I wanna say you look beautiful, but that implies you don’t always look beautiful, so, I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he added, his voice so low he may as well have been speaking to himself, but you heard every word he muttered.

“...What?” you breathed out, staring over at him.

“What?” he questioned, glancing up to catch your eye.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but it just kept on growing, forcing you to choke on your words.

“Hey, wait, don’t-... okay, now I really said something wrong, right?” he asked quickly, starting to panic as he watched your eyes fill with tears.

Shaking your head vehemently, you delicately wiped your eyes, hoping not to smudge the work that Wanda did for you. “No, you- I just didn’t expect you to say that. I-... I'm not used to hearing that."

"You're not?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

You almost laughed, and you probably would have if it wasn't such an embarrassing thing to admit. "No. I'm… guys don't really call girls who look like me beautiful."

He fell silent for a minute, eyeing you carefully before shifting in his seat, resting his arms on the table.

"You know, I've been alive for a pretty long time now," he said conversationally, as if you weren't on the cusp of a breakdown. "And I've also been quite literally around the whole world in that time. Some of it I remember, some of it… not so much. But even so, do you know what the one thing I can say with complete certainty is?"

You waited for him to go on for a moment before realizing he was actually looking for an answer. "No, what?" you manage to croak out.

He smiled softly, relaxing in his seat again. "I have, quite literally, never met anyone as beautiful as you. And I mean in both appearance and personality."

"But I- I'm not… I don't have the kind of body like the other women around here," you murmured, casting your gaze downwards as if you were ashamed of your words.

"So?" he asked incredulously. "Do you seriously think that you're automatically not beautiful just because you aren't the same size as them?"

"No, it- you can't- I'm not-" you tried to argue, but all you could get out were a few utterances before you had to choke back a sob, completely lost on how to express yourself.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me? Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?" he asked anxiously, fighting the urge to approach you.

"Yes. I mean no, I-" you cut yourself off with a sigh, taking a moment to consider your answer. "I've been too embarrassed to be around you. I-... I was afraid you'd be repulsed by me and that I'd lose you."

"Repulsed by you? A woman who puts fucking goddesses to shame?" he asked in disbelief. "Did me choking on my drink earlier not prove how taken by you I am?"

"Is that what that was?" you wondered, letting out a watery laugh.

"Yeah, that's what that was," he confirmed with a soft chuckle. "A guy does a real life spit take when he sees the girl of his dreams looking like the focus of a goddamn renaissance painting and she doesn't even realize it," he mumbled in exasperation, yet his eyes carried a playful sparkle.

"The girl of your dreams?" you repeated in shock, your voice a nervous whisper.

"Was that too cliché?" he questioned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe a little," you said playfully, sniffling quietly.

"I know how it feels, you know," he said softly. "To feel uncomfortable in your own body. But if you'd let me, I'll spend every day proving to you that I see you as nothing short of perfect."

You could only nod, giving him a weak smile as you fought back a wave of tears. "Yeah, I-... I could do that, too," you agreed quietly.

He grinned softly, greedily taking in your appearance once more before tearing his eyes away. "Come on," he urged, downing his drink before standing up. "You owe me about seven dances."

"Where does that number come from?" you asked with a laugh, watching as he approached you.

"For how many parties you snubbed me at so far," he replied casually, stopping as he stood before you.

"I never snubbed you," you grumbled, peering up at him.

"Sure you didn't," he teased, carefully wiping the tears from your face.

"Do I still look okay?" you asked nervously, fidgiting slightly under his touch.

"Gorgeous as ever," he replied sincerely.

You couldn't help but grin, laughing a little anxiously. "Okay. Come on, or else we won't have enough time for all those dances."

Bucky laughed happily, taking your hand and rushing to join the party, having you giggling in his wake as you did your best to keep up.

You let him whisk you away for the rest of the night, leading you through all the dances you owed him; and a few more, for good measure, as Bucky put it.

He stayed true to his word, and there wasn't a second that you spent with him where you didn't feel like the most ravishing woman to walk the earth.

Especially when he took his precious time in the dark of the night to memorize and worship every inch of your body over and over again.

So as you sat here now, watching from across the room as he danced with the crowd, you couldn't help but feel foolish. Foolish for letting your thoughts take away the extra time you could have had with him, foolish for ever thinking this incredible man would ever judge you for something so trivial. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you heard from beside you, ripping you from your reverie.

You turned your head, grinning as you saw the very man himself had taken up the seat to your left. "What, get tired of dancing already, old man?"

He gasped, feigning offense as he took in your words. "I'd watch who you're calling old, sweetheart," he warned playfully.

"I'd watch who you're calling sweetheart. I happen to be a married woman now, you know," you replied jovially.

"Married, huh? Should've known I didn't stand a chance," he lamented, shaking his head. "How about a pity dance?" he suggested with a grin, holding his hand out to you.

You giggled softly, taking his hand with a grin of your own. "Lead the way, Mr. Barnes."

"Anything for you, Mrs. Barnes," he replied with a wink, leading you to the dance floor.

And just like he did three years ago, he whisked you away and led you through a whole seven dances; and a few more, for good measure.

You were a flame, finally ignited, and Bucky was your match.

1K notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 10 months ago

Text

love you in slow motion (psh) | two.

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—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, the warmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 7.3k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, alcohol consumption and intoxication, some drunk crying lol, yacking, lil inkling of jealousy, overthinking and burying feelings, more seonghwa x oc dynamic

—a/n: hi hi! hope you guys enjoy this update! the next two updates will be quite lengthy lol stay tuned! if you need a lil something fun, i posted after hours last weekend!

"You know, Y/N. One day, you should sit down and eat with me. I'll pay for everything. It'll be a nice little date." The old man who is a regular at the restaurant smiles up at you while you switch his empty cup with a newly refilled cup of beer.

"Sure, but you know, my boss is also my cousin. I could always ask her for free food if I wanted it. Wouldn't a date be nicer somewhere else?" You laugh and nod, giving him a wink before walking off. "Mr. Ong asked me out on another date."

"Ou, to our restaurant? How sweet of him. Maybe one day you should actually sit down and eat with him."

"I'm not looking for a sugar daddy, Soyeon."

"He probably just needs company, you weirdo." She laughs. "Aye, might be nice, though. You never know until you try." You roll your eyes. "Unless.."

"Unless, what?"

"Someone else has your heart." Soyeon nudges you behind the counter as you two work on packing some to-go orders.

"Who is someone else?"

"You know, only your bestfriend of 16 years who does everything and anything for you." Soyeon giggles. But, before she can even indulge in her own little fantasy she's trying to project on you, Seonghwa walks through the front door— black, wavy hair messily framing his head. "Speak of the devil." You glare at her and roll her eyes while she continues to giggle loudly next to you.

"I can't fucking believe you."

"What?!" You look up at Seonghwa and give him a nod. "Hwa! Our favorite person ever."

"Hey." He smiles at Soyeon, giving Junseo a wave as he helps Yoongi in the kitchen.

"What're you doing here?"

"Thought I'd pick you up for Sannie's thing." He looks at you.

"Aw, Hwa. I told you I was okay taking bus."

"I was already in the area." He sits at the bar, watching as you continue to pack the remaining orders.

"Want anything?" Soyeon asks, making Hwa shake his head in response.

"I'm good, thanks."

"You should get going so you can meet up with everyone on time." Soyeon nudges you.

"Let me give Mr. Ong his check and direct him your way before I go." You grab a new batch of dried squid with the check, pacing over to Mr. Ong with a huge smile on your face. "My dear, I have some bad news. I'm off for the night. Here's a refill of your dried squid and the check. Just pay with Soyeon at the front, okay?" He frowns and playfully protests.

"You can't go that early! What am I supposed to do when my favorite is gone?!"

"Oh, I know. It's a tragedy. I'm so sorry, Mr. Ong. I'll see you next time!" You give him a sweet smile before walking to the back and hanging up your apron. "Soyeon will take great care of you!"

"I sure will, Mr. Ong. What else do you need?" He continues to playfully protest and partake in cute banter with Soyeon, even as you grab your things and walk out the door with Seonghwa.

"Really got the hots for you. Gonna let him take you out on a date?" Seonghwa adds as he leads the way to his parked car up the street.

"Well, just so you know, he actually did ask me on a date today. For the umpteenth time. He offered to pay for my dinner at the restaurant." You giggle as you step into the passenger's seat of Hwa's car. You always commend Hwa for being so clean and tidy, his car always in pristine condition like a new car would be. You especially love the air freshener that sits on his rear view mirror, Seonghwa always making sure to hang a new one to keep the fragrance alive.

"How sweet of him." He chuckles. "How was work otherwise?"

"Good. Busy." You let out a breath.

"Not too tired to go?"

"Never! I need to see Sannie, are you kidding?"

"I'm just giving you some options." He says, pulling away from the curb to begin the trek over to the bar.

"Thanks, Hwa. I'm perfectly fine and excited." You clap your hands in excitement.

"I think they're all already there."

"They're just waiting for us?"

"Mhm."

"Can't wait. I can't believe he went MIA when he was in Barcelona."

"I mean, we heard from him every now and then, but yeah." Seonghwa licks his lips, eyes focused on the road in front of him. "Guess he really wanted to focus on his program. Plus, I'm sure he was just basking in the new environment. Being in a new country and taking it all in."

"Good for him. I strive to be that way."

"Long way to go." You playfully smack him on the arm, making him give off a small yelp.

"I'm glad he did that, though. You don't normally find yourself in a situation like that all the time." Seonghwa nods.

"Yeah. I agree." You rest your head back against the headrest, giving yourself a moment to rest before the chaos begins. Before you could even get a few seconds of peace, Seonghwa is turning at a corner, instantly pulling into a free spot on the street.

"Mind if we walk a bit? I don't think we'll find anything closer to the bar."

"Sure. If I get wasted, it's on you to carry me." You unbuckle your seatbelt and hop out of the car while Seonghwa follows suit.

"Hell no."

"So what, are you just gonna leave me?"

"Yeah." He says nonchalantly, walking ahead of you.

"You're so mean to me." You pout, making Seonghwa look down at you once you finally catch up to his side.

"Am I? Even though I lose sleep to save you from your shitty ex-boyfriend?"

"Hey, I was just kidding." He laughs. "It's not funny. Are you sick of me?"

"Y/N, please."

"Seonghwa, are you sick of me? Cause if you are, then I am too!" You tug on his arm and he shakes his head.

"We wouldn't be in each other's lives for this long if I was." He scoffs. "Besides, what the hell have I done to make you sick of me?"

"I thought so. Don't get me started." You playfully attempt to smack him on the arm. At this point, the two of you have finally reached the entrance to the bar, Wooyoung being the first to spot you walking over.

"Baby girl and her grumpy bodyguard are here!" He yells, waving you two over. You call out Wooyoung and Hongjoong's name while waving happily, but the individual next to them causes you to pause and almost short-circuit.

Because what do you mean that's Choi San?

You gasp when you finally process that it's San standing next to Wooyoung, his cheeks a rose-tinted color as he fiddles with his hands. He's nervous seeing you for the first time in years, hoping you'd still be the same around him like before.

"Sannie!" You scream, running into San's arms and allowing him to swing you around. When he puts you down, he gets a good look at your face and smiles, sending those butterflies loose in your stomach.

He definitely changed over the years.

It's been about three years since you all graduated, and since you last saw San. Once graduation was over, he felt the need to travel and explore, eventually stumbling into an Art and Architecture program in Barcelona. That's where he spent a majority of his years abroad before coming back home.

To you, your friends, his family.

This.

The familiar.

But the last time you saw San, he was a super sweet, awkward guy who experimented with hair colors and lacked consistency with the gym [even though he said he wanted to be better about a million times]. In reality though, he didn't think too much about his physical appearance and wasn't big on dressing up, was glued to his games and his shiba pillow pet named Shiber— even after graduation.

Now, he stands in front of you— a nice fitting black tee tucked into some dress pants and boots, brow slits, black hair slicked back with strands falling to his face, buff as shit in all the right places. You still smell his cologne lingering on you, on your hair, even as your eyes continue to glaze over his body.

"Wow, you look.. different." You accidentally let out while letting your eyes linger. He chuckles, showing off his deep dimples.

"What is that supposed to mean? I haven't seen you in about three years and that's the first thing you say?" He teases, pulling you into another tight hug, your cheek pressed against his chest while Seonghwa furrows his brows. Because what the fuck is he watching right now? It's so easy to tell when you're feeling some type of way, even if you won't admit it.

"Sorry, I meant that in a good way." You look up at him and playfully tap his chest. "I'm happy you're back home. It's been too long."

"I am, too." Seonghwa clears his throat, breaking the weird, flirty silence between the two of you.

"Can we go inside?" Seonghwa chimes in, looking at anyone for some sort of agreement.

"Okaaaaay!" Wooyoung says, clapping his hands awkwardly. "You didn't have to make it so fucking weird, Mr. Grumpygills." He and Hongjoong snort while they begin to walk into the bar, Hwa's hand coming up to smack Wooyoung on the back of his neck. "Ouch, what the fuck! Joongie laughed too." He whines.

"Shut up."

"I can't wait to hear your stories about Barcelona!" You link your arm with San's as you two trail behind and begin to talk about how he's been lately. Wooyoung, Hongjoong and Seonghwa slide in first before you and San follow suit into the booth.

"Somebody order before he loses his shit watching this." Hongjoong mumbles, eyeing the happy hour menu.

"Tequila? Soju?" Wooyoung yells, already calling the server over. "Both? Fuck it. Seonghwa looks like he needs it anyway."

"I will personally toss your ass out of this bar myself." Seonghwa says under his breath, glaring at Wooyoung before returning his attention to the menu. After a few moments of peace and silence, Hongjoong takes initiative to order for the booth— making sure to include everyone's wants and wishes before thanking the server with a smile and a curt nod.

The soju bottles come out first, and you immediately crack them open to get the party started. You line up all of the shot glasses and start pouring [heavily], passing it onto the boys for them to join you.

"Goodness." Hongjoong says, carefully lifting his shot glass filled to the brim. "Y/N, I love you, but we have all night, you know?"

"Exactly, Joongie! More time to get in more shots!"

"Yeah, that's the spirit babygirl! Don't worry about the grandpas!" Wooyoung yells along, tapping his glass against yours. "Sannie's back!" San shyly laughs, saying a few words along the lines of 'thank you' and 'i missed you guys a lot.' Everyone taps their glasses once more before downing their shots, with you wasting no time to pour the next round.

But the next round becomes the third, the fifth, maybe seventh, tenth? You aren't really sure when it's mainly you, San and Wooyoung taking the shots and requesting bottle after bottle. At some point, the empty bottles are gathered in the middle of the table and Seonghwa is having to play tetris to make the food fit.

"I need to pee. I'll be back."

"Are you good to go by yourself?" Wooyoung questions. "I can stand outside in the hallway until you're done."

"I'm good, I promise!" You slip out of the booth once San has slipped out of the way at the end, taking a moment to get your balance together since the world seems to be spinning a lot more than usual right now.

"Wow, I think I'm drunk." Wooyoung laughs as he plops back down onto the seat.

"Saaaame." San burps a bit before picking at the calamari sitting in front of him. "Y/N's fun. I forgot how fun she is."

"She is." Wooyoung smiles. "That's babygirl."

"Babygirl? Is this a new nickname we're calling her?"

"It's a nickname I'm calling her and Hwa hates it." Wooyoung giggles when he eyes Seonghwa next to him.

"It's just weird."

"Not! You're just mad you can't come up with a cuter nickname for your bestfriend."

"I don't need to." Seonghwa continues to eat, brushing off Wooyoung's drunk teasing.

"Did you guys come from work today?" Hongjoong shifts the topic as he munches on some of the food, hearing the slight annoyance in Seonghwa's tone.

"Yeah. Picked up Y/N on the way over."

"When are Soyeon and Junseo leaving for Japan?"

"In a few days." Wooyoung gasps.

"Does that mean we'll get to see Chacha?!"

"That's right, I never met Charli." San says, cheeks flushed completely to red now that he's 100% drunk.

"She's cute." Seonghwa smiles a bit. "But yeah, Soyeon asked Y/N to take charge in watching Chacha since Yaya's knees have been bothering her." Hongjoong nods.

"She's really cute, dude. She turned three not too long ago." Wooyoung shows San a picture.

"She's so cute." San laughs at the pictures of Charli.

"I'm back!" You announce, the boys at the end slipping out of the booth to let you get back inside. "What're you guys looking at?"

"Chacha." You smile.

"Aw yeah, Charli! You haven't met her. She'd love you." You look at San.

"Can't wait. She's super cute."

"She's stuck to this one the most, though." You point at Seonghwa. "All she does is cry for Hwa." You pour yourself another shot.

"He's no fun, though." Wooyoung pokes fun and pouts at Seonghwa.

"It's cause mentally, you're the same age as Charli. Of course you relate the most."

"Aye." Wooyoung flips him off while laughing. "Fuck you."

"Am I wrong?" Seonghwa smirks.

"Is she just gonna stay with Yaya when she doesn't have preschool? She only goes three days, right?" Hongjoong asks.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure." You reach across to grab some food, getting in Seonghwa's way. "I know Yaya won't mind, but I might just bring her along to the restaurant. She can color or something. Our regulars don't mind keeping her company, too."

"Cute."

"But, she'll be sleeping with me and everything." You say with a slightly full mouth. You feel Seonghwa accidentally nudge you while grabbing a chicken wing, making your drunk ass glare back at him just as you roughly nudge him. He mumbles a quick 'stop' as he nudges you again, making you respond with an even more aggressive nudge that has him moving in his seat. The childish back and forth has Hongjoong confused, eyes peering over the edge of his phone while he watches the interaction mid-text. "You stop." You groan.

"Seriously?" Hongjoong asks, sometimes unsure how you two have dealt with each other for this long.

"He elbowed me first." You drunkly respond, that last shot of soju finally settling in.

"It was an accident. I was trying to grab food." Seonghwa gives you a look. It's gonna be a long night. "Eat more. Drunk ass." Seonghwa drops a wing onto your plate before continuing to pick at his food.

"No." You pout and he furrows his brows.

"Fine, suit yourself. You're gonna be mad you didn't." He watches as you reach over to grab the soju bottle and pour Wooyoung and San another shot.

"Don't be a killjoy, Hwa. Sannie is back, doesn't that mean anything to you?" You whine, your doe-eyes peering up at him as he eats. He doesn't respond, nor does he keep eye contact with you for long because he can't stand it when you look at him like that.

"I'm driving, remember?" He raises a brow.

"Right." You giggle. "I'll take another on your behalf then." You shrug and take one last shot of soju right after San and Wooyoung take their shots.

"She's gonna yack tonight." Hongjoong says while puckering his lips, keeping his eyes glued to his phone.

"Yeah, probably." Seonghwa nonchalantly munches on a mozzarella stick.

"Am! Not!" You direct your response to Hongjoong, but before you can go on and defend yourself even more, a loud scream erupts when the DJ starts to play one of your favorite songs.

"Who wants to dance?!" Wooyoung yells loudly as he stands at the booth, San already ready to make his way to the dance floor. "Babygirl sure does!" San grabs your hand and leads the way, with Wooyoung pushing Hongjoong out of the booth to follow along. "You two coming?" He asks just as Hongjoong and Seonghwa shake their head, leaving him to nod and find you and San on the floor.

"Looks like those two are gonna get extra close again now that he's back for good." Hongjoong takes a turn teasing Seonghwa, knowing the flirty interaction from earlier in the night is still irking the living daylight out of him.

"Mm, maybe." Seonghwa continues to chomp on his food while avoiding eye contact.

"Wow, they're dancing awfully close like that together." Hongjoong lies, watching as Seonghwa's eyes suddenly dart to the dance floor ahead. He tries not to make it obvious but my god, is he hoping that you and San aren't dancing up on each other and are leaving room for the Holy Spirit instead. "See, you're full of shit."

"Dude, fuck off. Why is everyone on my ass about this today?"

"Maybe cause you should do something about it."

"If she wants to date San, then she should go for it. Can't tell her who she can or can't date."

"You're right, by all means. But I'm telling you to be fucking real with yourself." Seonghwa rolls his eyes and shakes his head before looking back out to the dance floor. He's a little irritated that he's had to hear this not once, but twice in one day— though, he knows his boys are only looking out for him and telling him the truth. For some reason, he just can't think about it right now. He refuses to, mainly out of fear. He doesn't want this to consume him, to change things without him even realizing.

He wants you, but he'll have you the way the universe will allow him to have you.

After you, Wooyoung and San are done dancing [a very long hour or so afterwards], the group decides to call it a night shortly after. You're still drunk as hell, and Seonghwa doesn't even know how he's gonna get you home without creating chaos at this time of night. He just hopes he can at least get you to bed in one piece.

At least you're not running off to Mingi.

"I had so much fun!" You giggle. "Choi San." You tap his chest before hugging him. "I'm so glad you're back."

"I am, too."

"We have to hang out more now that you're back. T-to make up for lost—" You hiccup. "—time."

"That sounds good with me." You smile at him before hugging Wooyoung and Hongjoong.

"I mean it!"

"I know, I do too!" He laughs.

"Hwa get home safely, please." Joong says before grabbing at Wooyoung's shirt just as he's about to run to the water fountain nearby. "No, you're not going to the fountain."

"I just wanna make a wish and toss a coin in there! I'm not gonna dive in!" Wooyoung whines while San laughs loudly. "Why are you being like that!" He continues on.

"You too!" Seonghwa calls out, picking up his pace when he realizes you've already started walking off. "Shit." He mumbles to himself.

"Wooooooo!" You skip happily as you and Seonghwa walk down the street to his car. You stumble on your feet a bit that he has to grab your wrist and pull you back towards him before you end up on the busy street where cars are constantly driving up and down.

"Y/N, be careful." He says, almost whining that you can't just stay still next to him.

"Hwa, I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Y-yes!" You giggle and pose as if he's taking a picture, only to lose your balance and stumble on your feet again. You laugh though, and it makes Seonghwa chuckle a bit when he grabs your arm and holds you close.

"Okay, yeah. You're right! Perfectly fine." He lies just so you're satisfied.

"Aw, see. I told you so." You scrunch your nose at him and continue to let him guide you to the car. "Hwa." You tug on his arm.

"Mhm?"

"Sannie is so cute." You pout. "He is so, so cute. I m-mean." You hiccup. "He's always been cute but he's so attractive now. Like prince charming." You say ever so smitten, and it makes Seonghwa wanna silently scream and punch the air right now. "Isn't he?!"

"Sure."

"Do you think he'd like me? We're just friends and he probably just—" You hiccup again. "Just sees me as a friend."

"I think he would."

"You're not just saying that because you're my bestfriend, right? You can tell me the truth. You hate Mingi and you tell me all the time."

"I always tell you the truth." He chuckles. "And I do hate Mingi. That has never changed. He's an asshole and doesn't treat you right."

"Would San treat me right? Would you like him? We've all been friends so you know him." Seonghwa sighs.

"He would. He's a really good guy."

"I knooooow." You pout. "But he wouldn't like me."

"He would."

"Would he actually?"

"Why not? You're beautiful inside and out, smart, funny. Fun to be around. You're a headache at times, but everything about you is worth it." He almost mumbles the last part hoping you wouldn't catch it. You do, but it doesn't bother Seonghwa as much knowing you won't remember shit tomorrow.

"Aw, pichu." You stop and look at him while he unlocks his car and swings the passenger door open for you. "You really mean that?" Your bottom lip looks like it's trembling and Seonghwa can't help but furrow his brows in confusion at you.

"Are you gonna cry?"

"Yeah." Your bottom lip pokes out even more and you actually do start crying.

"That wasn't meant to make you cry, Y/N. I'm just answering your question." He laughs as he wipes your tears, but you continue to cry, even as you drunkly plop onto the passenger's seat.

"It was so sweet, you're always so good to me. Sometimes." You sniff. "Well all the time. I feel like I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

"It's not, or else I wouldn't be here, right?" He looks at you just as he finishes buckling your seatbelt.

"Did you know?" You giggle with glazed, hooded eyes. "I wanted to marry you at some point. I couldn't see anyone else in my life the same way that I saw you and thought I'd end up marrying you." You snort and laugh loudly. "Kinda crazy isn't it? We would never date though so how could that even happen?" Seonghwa can't help but continue to look at you, even though at this point you've shut your eyes and started to lean back against the seat.

"Hm." Seonghwa hums. "I wouldn't say never."

"You're my bestfriend. We can't break up, remember? Ever. If we date, then ultimately we could get tired of each other and break up. A-and hate each other. It'll kill me." You mumble. "Even though I love you, I really, really love you, we promised not to break up or go there."

"Yeah." Seonghwa's heart shatters, the pieces falling to the pits of his stomach.

"Listen, even though I have this crush on Sannie, or I think I do, I don't know—" You giggle again as you tap his arm. "I want you to know that I'll always love you more than anyone or anything. Okay? You're always first!" Your eyes pop open to look at him. "My heart belongs to you and only you, Park Seonghwa!" You laugh and point at him cutely, shutting your eyes again to finally try and sleep this off.

"I love you, too." Seonghwa mutters as he drives off, but you're already sound asleep in the seat— head leaning near the window. He's not sure what to feel right now, and he'll probably never bring this up for your sake. He'll never bring it up though the thought will consume him.

But, did you really mean it? All of it?

He's hoping yes, but what is that gonna do for him? You're drunk. You won't remember this. He won't bring it up. Does this mean it's actually time for him to be honest before it's too late? Before San can sweep you off your feet for good and Seonghwa never gets the chance to tell you how much he truly loves you and adores you?

Before he just has to sit back and bury his feelings for good? All because he decided he couldn't tell you?

He'd hate to say you were the one that got away, especially when a whole new door just opened in front of his eyes. It's just a matter of him taking those steps.

Fuck.

Why do things have to be so complicated?

When he gets to your house, Yaya is sound asleep and all the lights are off. Seonghwa makes sure to open the side door and the door to your suite before coming back to his car to quietly unbuckle your seatbelt and carry you to your bed. You whimper and make a small noise when he lifts you, and he gently shushes you back to sleep— reassuring you that he was putting you to bed and that he'd be around if you needed him.

He lays you down, taking off your shoes and setting them aside before grabbing some clean clothes for you to change into later. He knows you'll probably get up in the middle of the night, especially with how drunk you were. He sets a glass of water near your bed side and places the trash can next to you just in case, before shutting all the curtains and changing into comfier clothes himself [the perks of you wearing his clothes home]. He lays down on your couch and throws the extra blanket over his body, taking a moment to scroll through his phone and text the boys before attempting to get some sleep.

You do end up yacking that night, and it's not as slick as you had liked.

You abruptly woke up, suddenly feeling warm and like you needed some sort of release, feet quickly padding to the bathroom that you didn't notice Seonghwa asleep on your couch. You shut the door to the bathroom and instantly vomit into the bowl— all the alcohol and things you've eaten coming right back up. Seonghwa is already awake, though. He heard you shuffling over to the bathroom and knows exactly what's happening behind the door. He lets out a breath while walking to the bathroom, finding you head first into the toilet. He gently gathers your hair and pulls it back, rubbing your back as you let out another round into the bowl before flushing it away.

"Fuck." You say. "Really do regret not eating more." You spit into the bowl before flushing it once more and stand to wash up.

"Figured." Seonghwa smirks with a little chuckle. "You alright?" You nod as you begin to brush your teeth and get loads of mouthwash ready.

"I think I'll be okay now. I feel a bit better even though I'm kinda dizzy still." You look at him through your bathroom mirror. "Were you here the entire time?" Seonghwa yawns and nods as he leans against the door frame.

"Took your little drunk ass home and stayed here just in case."

"How many hours ago did we get home?"

"Probably like 2 or 3."

"How drunk was I?"

"Drunk enough."

"I didn't say stupid shit, did I?" You spit out the mouth wash and start to make your way outside to change into comfier clothes, still feeling disoriented.

"No, but you did manage to be all up on San." You gasp and cover your mouth, Seonghwa laughing as he plops back down onto your couch.

"The fuck, Seonghwa! Don't lie!" You smack him on the shoulder.

"I'm kidding. Kinda. You were dancing with him and Wooyoung, and you wouldn't stop talking about how cute he was." You start changing in the bathroom with the door open, listening to him go on about that.

"Did he hear?"

"No, you were still being a flirt though."

"Fucking christ." You mumble, hand to your forehead at the dull headache now present post-yack session. "No, I'm not thinking about this now." You lay back down and toss the sheets over your body. "Are you sure you're okay to sleep there?"

"Mhm. Not like I haven't before."

"We've also shared a bed without issues." Seonghwa pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. Can he really share a bed with you the same way he used to? Especially after you just blurted out that your heart belonged to him? Whether it was the truth, or for shits and giggles— he can't just share a bed with you and keep his distance.

You fucking blurted out the L word.

You said you loved him; really, really loved him.

"It's okay. You should rest comfortably. You need it more than I do." You hum as you sink into your sheets and let the warmth envelope you. Seonghwa lets out a quiet sigh before returning his attention to his phone, waiting for the drowsiness to hit him again. His groupchat with the boys still seems to be active, so he scrolls through to catch up on the texts:

[hongjoong]: just got home after dropping these punks off

[hongjoong]: can't believe woo and san convinced me to go to another bar

[hongjoong]: hwa did you and y/n make it home okay?

[wooyoung]: did y/n yack her brains out? cause babygirl was drunk drunk

[san]: you guys, speaking of her

[san]: y/n is so fucking cute, i missed her a lot

[san]: she's really not seeing anyone right? because she's so pretty

[san]: maybe she'll finally give me a chance lol

[hongjoong]: you're drunk. sleep it off? lol

[san]: no i really mean it ☹️ she rarely paid attention to me before..

[hongjoong]: what are you talking about, she was always with us lol you guys always hung out??

[hongjoong]: please go to sleep

[wooyoung]: u better ask bodyguard seonghwa first, he might drop kick that ass

[san]: shit hwa i'm sorry, am i overstepping here??

Seonghwa is annoyed and he's irritated, but he won't say it. And he won't take it out on San because it's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault but Seonghwa's own. He chooses to keep this to himself and not do anything about it, so can he really mope around and sulk? You weren't his to claim. It was free game, and if it's gonna be anyone, he would want it to be San. Seonghwa would ultimately support you and San if it ever went down that route. That way, you wouldn't keep hurting yourself over Song Mingi, too.

Despite adoring you and loving you to bits, all he wants is for you to be genuinely happy. That's the most important thing here.

[seonghwa]: don't listen to wooyoung's dumbass, you don't needa tell me or ask me anything. y/n is her own person

[seonghwa]: and yeah joong we're fine

[seonghwa]: she did throw up but shes asleep now

[seonghwa]: i'm gonna take my exit, tired as hell

He sets his phone aside, turning inwards on the couch to try and catch some shut-eye. Though, he feels like at this point, he's probably not gonna have the best rest. He manages to fall asleep for the next couple of hours, tossing and turning every now and then until he finally decides to just call it quits and start his day. He washes up and tries to make himself look a little more presentable after the long night of tossing and turning. He folds the blankets and sets them aside, happy to see that you're still sound asleep deep under your covers. He grabs his keys and phone, deciding to make a run for some pho to bring back and share with you.

"Seonghwa." Yaya says as she waters her flowers in the garden. "You're here." She smiles.

"Mhm." He gestures towards your suite. "Brought her home after we all went out last night for San."

"Oh, that handsome boy. I'm so happy to hear he's back home." She stands and places her hand on her hip. "Was she okay?"

"Yeah, just drank quite a bit. She's okay though. Promise." Seonghwa smiles sweetly. "I'm gonna grab us some food before she wakes up."

"You're the sweetest boy I know." She cups his cheek.

"Do you need anything while I'm out, Yaya?" He asks as he's about to head out of the backyard's side door.

"No, Soyeon, Junseo and Charli are coming over soon. You're gonna be here, right? Charli would be so sad if she missed you."

"Yeah, I'll be here." He chuckles. "Be back."

With that, Seonghwa heads off to the small Vietnamese restaurant that you, your family and his family have come to love. It's a bit of a drive from your place, but he doesn't mind. The restaurant is owned by a lovely middle-aged couple who has seen you and Seonghwa grow since your high school years. When Seonghwa calls, they know his voice— immediately starting on his order before he could say anything and asking for him to swing by as soon as possible so they can see him.

So, that's what he does.

He sees them as soon as possible, walking into the store with a huge smile on his face while Mr. and Mrs. Dao happily wave him over with a huge bag of food nearby on the counter. He stands near the counter to engage in small talk for a bit, giving them cash with extra tip for all the good food they've packed for him [and you].

"Where is our girl?" Mrs. Dao asks, tying the knot securely on the bag.

"Asleep and hungover." She laughs, handing the bag over. "Gotta make sure she gets some food in her system."

"That's sweet of you." She smiles at him.

"How's your family? How's Y/N and hers?" Mr. Dao asks him, wiping his hand on his apron.

"They're all good. I'll tell them you guys said hello." They nod.

"I packed some spring rolls and extra peanut sauce in there. I know those are her favorite." Mrs. Dao whispers.

"Thank you." Seonghwa winks before waving one last time and walking out of the door.

As promised, when he arrives, Soyeon, Junseo and Charli are over. Seonghwa steps out of his car with the bag of food, a screaming Charli running towards him from down the hallway. She barrels through her own mom and dad to get to him quickly, with Seonghwa having to set the bag on the island counter down to appropriately welcome her into his arms and swing her around.

"Uncle Hwa! Uncle Hwa!" She screams repeatedly.

"Charli, please. You don't have to scream." Soyeon chuckles a bit.

"Chacha." Seonghwa taps the tip of her nose before she giggles and snuggles her head into the crook of his neck. "I missed you. Where have you been?" He asks teasingly.

"Preschool! With friends!"

"Aw, you've been making friends? That's good."

"Hwa, don't let that child lie to you." Soyeon adds. "She's so mean and sassy. There was this kid who wanted to sit next to her and she kicked her foot out so he wouldn't." Junseo laughs.

"Wonder who she gets that attitude from?" Junseo chimes in.

"Can't forget that one time we took her to the park and another kid wanted to play with her, but Chacha held up a stick so they wouldn't get close to her." Seonghwa laughs at Junseo's story before he rubs at Charli's back.

"Aw pea, you can't do that."

"I don't!"

"Mhm. Now she wants to act all sweet and innocent cause you're here." Soyeon crosses her arm and nods at the bag. "Long night for Y/N, I'm assuming."

"You could say that." He continues to hold Charli against his hip while grabbing at the bag. "Hey, let's go wake up Auntie Y/N?" She happily nods as Seonghwa walks off to the suite. As expected, you're still deep under your covers, messy hair the only thing peeking out from under. "Go wake her up, Chacha." He says lowly, putting her down so that she can run to the bed and wake you [rather aggressively].

"Titi Y/N! Titi Y/N! Wakey wakey!" Seonghwa chuckles to himself as he sets the food out on your coffee table, grabbing two bowls for you both.

"Oh my god, Chacha. Please." You groggily say as she bounces on your bed. "How are you even in here right now?"

"Uncle Hwa! He has food so you need to eat now." You would've thought she was grown with that attitude, you think. You chuckle as you rub at your eyes and sit up, giving your niece a proper bear hug and cuddle.

"Thank you, pea." You give her a kiss on the side of the head before you get up to wash up and get yourself ready for the day. Once you've freshen up, you do feel a bit better, though your tummy still feels unsettled so Seonghwa's timing is perfect.

Like always.

You plop next to him on the floor, while Chacha welcomes herself on his criss-crossed lap. He pushes the container of spring rolls and the huge bowl of pho towards you since he's already had his first helping, eyes glued on your TV even though it's just the Secret Life of Pets [probably by Chacha's choosing].

"Thank you, Hwa." His big eyes dart to you before he gives you a small smile and slurps his noodles.

"Course." He feeds some to Chacha when she politely asks for a bite. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, a bit. This will help majorly." You slurp the soup.

"Chacha! Let's go! I told you we were only stopping by for a bit!" Soyeon calls from outside.

"No, mama! I wanna stay with Auntie Y/N and Uncle Hwa." She whines loudly, on the verge of an actual breakdown as she stands in between you two.

"Hey Chacha, remember? We're gonna spend some time together soon while mama and papa are away." You pull her close to you and brush the hair out of her face. "Just me and you. Uncle Hwa too." She nods, a tear falling from her eye as she pouts. Seonghwa has to look away because he's finding that the more he's fixated on this scene, the more he imagines a future like this with you.

And he can't do that to himself.

"Okay." She mumbles with the pout still on her face. You continue to brush her hair back and wipe the straggling tears before standing.

"Say bye to Uncle Hwa." You dust down your clothes as Charli throws her hands around his neck for a tight hug.

"Bye cutiepie." She giggles before taking your hand and meeting her mom and dad outside in the backyard.

"Swear, she's so stuck on Seonghwa." You laugh and hug Junseo.

"Can't blame her."

"Well, good to know you're alive. And not at Mingi's." You roll your eyes.

"Always ruining the moment. Leave." Soyeon sticks her tongue out and waves.

"I'll call you later to talk more about the trip. Gotta prepare!" She says in an excited tone, one where you can't help but laugh a bit and shake your head.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm charging you double this time." You call out before giving one last wave and heading back into your suite. Seonghwa is still seated on the ground, but he's drinking water and has his bowl pushed aside. "You're not gonna eat more?"

"No, go for it. It's mainly yours. Mrs. Dao gave you spring rolls and extra peanut sauce on the house."

"Aw, I love her. She's so sweet." You take a bite into one. "What're you gonna do today?" He shrugs.

"Probably hang out at Joong's or San's." He looks at you. "Why?"

"Can I come?"

"No?"

"Why not?" You whine playfully, knowing you don't actually wanna join their weird little boy party.

"Because all you're gonna do is flirt with San and we have important business to take care of." You snort and laugh loudly.

"No I'm not! And important business? Like fucking yelling at each other during a game of FIFA?"

"No."

"Right." You roll your eyes. "I'm kidding, I don't wanna join in your sad little no girls allowed party."

"Girls are allowed." He smirks. "Just not you."

"You really are such a dick to me sometimes." He laughs, blocking the pillow from hitting his face.

"What, and you aren't a brat to me?"

"I beg to differ."

"If only you knew." He snorts, pinching your cheek. "I'm just joking, you know I am. You're always welcome to come."

"No, I really don't wanna go. Was just teasing." You finish up your food.

"What're you gonna do then?"

"Work at the restaurant and serve some middle-aged men their beer and food while they ogle at me." You joke and he winces.

"Mmkay well, have fun with that." Seonghwa stands and cleans up his trash before wiping your table down thoroughly. "Make sure to invite me to the wedding or else I'll be pissed."

"You're full of shit, Hwa." He groans when he sees a drop of peanut sauce land onto the surface that he's just cleaned. "Oops."

"I swear to God." He sighs, cleaning it again before shaking his head.

"You love me."

"I beg to differ." He mocks you just as he washes his hands and stretches. "Alright, well I'm out. Get some more rest before you head to the restaurant, you look kinda torn up." He ruffles your hair, causing you to smack his hand away and flip him off.

"Fuck you, get out." He chuckles as he heads out the door and leaves you to your peace.

When Seonghwa gets to his place, he manages to tidy up a bit, shower and throw on some fresh clothes before calling Hongjoong to see what the consensus was for the meeting place. Hongjoong ends up telling him that they're all on their way to San's, giving Seonghwa the green light to head over as well.

On his way over, he tries to push his thoughts to the back of his mind. He tries his hardest not to overthink, not to focus too much on all the stuff that's happened.

The stuff you said.

He knows it's probably just you being drunk and babbling all this mess, especially now that you're finding interest in San. But as with everyone says, the drunk mind speaks sober thoughts.

Was there some kind of truth to it?

Did you really see him that way at some point?

Is there a part of you that still feels that way?

"What's wrong with you?" Seonghwa looks at Wooyoung in slight disgust as he steps aside and lets him in.

"Nothing. Just didn't wanna see you first."

"You're an asshole." Wooyoung laughs. "How does Y/N deal with you? She's so sweet and fun, everything you're not—" Hwa smacks him upside the head. "Ow, see!" Wooyoung continues to complain.

"Speaking of her, how's Y/N?" San eagerly asks as he sits next to Hongjoong on the couch, continuing his journey on Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth.

"All of a sudden." Hongjoong snorts.

"She's good. Recovering from her night, I guess. She's going to work soon."

"Mm. Glad she survived."

"What have you guys been up to?" Seonghwa plops onto the beanbag and scrolls through his phone, finally letting out a breath of relief after his night. At least he could relax and chill out here.

"Just hanging out. Trying to figure out what to eat." Hongjoong looks at him. "You eat already?"

"Yeah, I went to grab some pho for Y/N."

"Okay, thanks for the invite."

"You can take care of yourself." Seonghwa snaps back at Wooyoung, making him mock Hwa in return.

"Aye, are you guys down to head to the mall in a bit? We can just grab food there." San asks, eyes still focused on the TV.

"Why do you need to go to the mall?"

"I just wanna buy some new clothes."

"For what?" Hongjoong chuckles.

"Listen, I haven't been around for awhile, okay? I started cleaning out a few things from my closet for donations. Plus, I haven't treated myself in a long time cause I've been so focused on the program and what not."

"Mm okay, so what's the real reason?" Wooyoung asks, chomping onto a banana. Seonghwa glances at San from his seat, taking note of how his cheeks and ears turn red and how he's suddenly getting shy. Nervous, even.

And he's not sure how to feel. He has a feeling he might know exactly where this is going, and he's hoping he's wrong. Maybe overthinking. Jumping to conclusions.

"I definitely wanna take Y/N to dinner and catch up with her. See where this goes.." San trails off, causing Seonghwa to pause mid-text— trying his very hardest not to make it too entirely obvious that his heart has dropped from the statement, equally sad and annoyed by the entire situation [for his own selfish reasons].

Fuck.

♡ taglist: @hwasbabygirl @fairyofhueningkai @chngbnwf @tinyteezer @everyonewooeverywhere @pearbunny @mxnsxngie @starhwahwa @woosmaid @yeosangsbbg @jycas @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

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