#god. there is no doubt in my mind that even if it took thousands of years it was guizhong's initial love for humans that planted the idea

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.

𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!

“The girl’s ready, Captain.”

Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”

“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.

His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.

That left Steve. But Steve had this.

I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.

Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.

And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.

You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.

“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”

Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.

“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.

Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.

And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.

After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.

And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.

“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”

Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…

“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.

He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.

“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”

“Get on the bed.”

“H-Huh?”

“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”

Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.

And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.

Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.

What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.

“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.

The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.

“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.

You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”

Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.

“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.

“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”

“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”

Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”

He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.

“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”

Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.

“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”

You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.

He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.

“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.

“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.

It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.

“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”

You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.

“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”

“Take it out.”

A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.

“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.

“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”

He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.

“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”

“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.

“Stroke it.” He instructs you.

You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”

“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”

You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.

“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”

Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”

You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.

He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.

“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.

Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.

“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”

“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”

Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?

He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.

“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”

“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”

Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.

Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.

“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.

Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.

But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.

“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.

“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”

There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”

“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.

Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.

He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.

He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.

“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.

“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.

“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”

He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.

Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.

“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.

With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.

It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.

You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.

“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”

It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.

He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.

You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”

Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.

“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”

His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.

“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”

With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.

“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.

“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.

“You’ve never fingered yourself?”

“No!”

“Tell me why not.”

You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”

A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”

The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.

“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.

Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”

You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.

“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”

This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.

“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”

He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.

And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.

“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.

He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.

“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.

“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.

“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”

You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.

“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”

His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.

“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”

You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”

“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.

“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.

Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.

Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.

But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.

He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”

Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…

He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…

“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”

How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.

“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.

“N-No, Captain.”

“Why not?”

“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.

Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.

“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”

He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.

Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.

Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.

He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.

Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.

He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.

He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.

“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.

He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.

He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.

Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.

He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.

Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.

“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.

“Yes.”

You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.

You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.

“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”

A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.

He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.

Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.          

“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”

You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.

“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.

“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.

The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).

You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.

“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”

“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”

He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.

“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.

Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.

The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.

He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You’ve passed out.

“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.

“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.

It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.

“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.

“I-It hurts!”

“Address me properly.”

“C-Captain, it hurts!”

He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”

Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.

“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”

Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.

“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”

You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”

Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!

With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.

“Now you can scream.”

“Huh?”

He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.

A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.

“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”

Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.

“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.

“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”

Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.

I deserve this, he thinks to himself.

He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.

“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”

You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”

“Answer me!”

“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.

Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”

The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…

For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.

“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.

“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”

Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.

He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.

“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.

He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.

“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”

He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.

“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –

“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.

“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”

“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”

“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”

 Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.

“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.

You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.

He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.

Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.

With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.

He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.

“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”

This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.

“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.

With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air.  It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.

“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”

It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.

“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”

“Wh-What?”

He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.

He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.

“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”

Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.

“Use your words.”

“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”

You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.

“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.

“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.

Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”

You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.

You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.

All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.

He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.

“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”

“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”

He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.

“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”

“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”

He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.

And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.

“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”

You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”

“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.

But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.

“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”

You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”

“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”

Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”

“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.

“Wh-What–”

“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”

Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”

He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.

“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”

Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.

 With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.

Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.

“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”

Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”

Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”

“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

“N-No, I–”

He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.

“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”

“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.

“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”

You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.

The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.

“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.

“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.

Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.

Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.

***

It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.

The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.

“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.

“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”

The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.

“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”

“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”

They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.

“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.

His beautiful, broken little bride.

“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”

Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.

Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.

He deserved this.

AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.

ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 🔞 | Oneshot

"Does he even pay you?"

Tags/Warnings: Idol!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, friends with benefits situation, major angst, mentions of sex work, smoking, smut, god so much filth, Dom!Jungkook, big dick JK but what's new, did I mention angst?, protected sex, multiple rounds, multiple positions, a brief thighjob, so many feelings

Length: 7k+ words

There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Oneshot.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"How does it feel to be a celebrity and ending up with me?" You wonder at him over the music, making him frown before he shakes his head, pulling you in by your hands he's holding.

"What're you talking about babe?" He argues softly, letting go of your hands to hold your waist now. "I've got the prettiest girl at my side, in my opinion. Can't complain whatsoever." He tells you into your ear, voice raised a bit and slightly raspy from his last smoking break.

You just shrug, enjoying the music when some people approach you, talking to Jungkook about something you don't listen in on, even though he's still holding you close. It's none of your business, you really don't want to get too involved with his work and everything around it, but it's clear that he likes to do exactly that.

Jungkook wants you around all the time. Doesn't matter if it fits the scene and situation, if he can invite you or bring you along, he will.

Fans don't know your connection to him. They constantly battle it out in comment sections that you're just a translator, nothing else, that you're staff so of course you have to travel alongside him. And just how they can seem to connect everything to dating if it fits their 'ship' they've got inside their minds, they're also talented in finding thousands of (sometimes frankly ridiculous) reasons as to why it cannot possibly be true either.

While before, someone wearing the same jewelry as Jungkook was a confirmation of a relationship, with you its just pure coincidence. You're an adult woman, you can choose whatever necklace or ring you want, that doesn't mean you're dating him. You're wearing the same t-shirt he wore just a day ago? Maybe you just own the same, or he was nice enough to lend it to you for one reason or the other. Seen near his hotel room? Well of course, you're staff!

The truth is, that you're not even staff at all- but you're also not dating him.

Jungkook has become awfully… comfortable in his trust that fans will brush off every rumor floating around. It's why he's shamelessly grabbing your tits from behind right now just for the fun of it, lips kissing your neck as you slap them off to hold your waist instead. "They'll call it AI-generated or something." He laughs, but you can't shake off the feeling of doubt about that. "And there's no one here filming anyways. It's a private VIP zone, so relax baby." He chuckles, swaying you with him to the beat.

He's right that this is a secluded zone- but that's never stopped anything ever before, did it. One random Instagram live where you're both seen in the background and it's over. For both of you.

"Let's go back to the hotel though. I'm horny as fuck." He laughs, making you roll your eyes with red cheeks to go with.

Jungkook is a shameless person- he doesn't see anything wrong with the things he says or does if they're not hurting anybody. He's got his own opinions and he stands by them, only ever shifting his stance if there's undeniable evidence of him being wrong shown to him. And he also enjoys the more physical aspects of love.

Jungkook enjoys sex to its fullest.

He used to sleep around quite often, his charm and also wealth and status enough to make the act of finding someone willing fairly easy. Most wouldn't be believed anyways if they openly said he'd slept with them- he made sure they never took pictures or god forbid videos, and he also never stayed the night, most of the time preferred the security of his own home where he could politely tell them to leave after the deed was done, his reasoning always having to do something with his work.

'I'm sorry, I got called up to the studio.'

'Fuck I forgot I had a flight early morning tomorrow.'

'I'm really sorry, ah this is awkward, but my manager just told me to a live now, and I can't have you being seen.'

You knew he did this. You were staff at some point, after all, even if not hired by his company but rather outsourced during a particularly demanding schedule and many other employees sick due to a viral infection going around in the office building.

You'd been just another victim of his. But somehow, he ended up biting down too hard- making him taste blood, Primal hunger awakened at the mind-blowing experience he'd had, an odd need to keep you just for himself having blossomed from it all. You were a keeper, you still are- and while it's not really love, it's good enough for him. Close enough.

He reminds you, regularly, that it's not love, with how he never claims to love you, avoids the topic altogether, always tells others you're just very close even when it's obvious just like tonight that you're a little too close to just be something casual. But he enjoys your presence nonetheless. Like a dear friend, just with some deeper layers to it.

Some staff call you his personal prostitute. And in a way, you do sometimes feel like that.

Jungkook is that kind of man who could have sex first thing in the morning. Doesn't even have to wake up fully- if you touch him just a bit, he'll come to life in an instant, if he's not sporting a boner already. He enjoys the exhaustion he feels afterwards, always pushes you past your first and second O, keeps his own saved up for the very last stretch all the time. He draws it out to high heavens, has trouble calling it quits.

Shower sex he's mastered, knows exactly where to step and what position to get into to make it as safe as possible. He loves having you on his large sofa, leather easy to clean after you're both done. Sixty-nine is his favorite dinner for two, though he has to admit that lately, he's been enjoying the more closer positions a lot more. Spooning from behind, lotus, you name it- you've become more than just an outlet for him.

He doesn't know what they call you behind his back. What your unofficial status is. They'd never admit that to him, because why would they? No one wants to get on his bad side if they don't have to.

He's on his phone, free hand on your thigh as you both sit in the back of the car that's driving him back to his hotel. He's gonna get out first, make his way inside, while you'll get in later from the back entrance to not raise any suspicion. It's normal. Routine. You've mastered it by now.

"I'll see you in ten." He winks before he makes his way out the car, rushing past some fans who've found out his location, bodyguards already there to guide him inside the lobby.

"Does he pay you?" The driver chuckles, and you shake your head. "Damn." The elderly man clicks his tongue. "Go find yourself an actual man, dear." He tells you as he parks behind the hotel, watching you move, your phone vibrating in your pocket, before it stops suddenly. "You know what they call you, right?"

"I know." You admit quietly.

"And you're okay with that? You're too sweet to let yourself be used like that. Have some self-worth." The man tells you with a kind tone. "I've seen you around long enough to know that you're kind, and a nice person. Trust me, you can and will find a proper man to love you right. But this?" He shakes his head. "You know he just wants you because you've become routine."

"I know." You repeat again, sighing a little.

"You're not what they say you are. You're just a little soft at heart, hm?" The old guy smiles over his shoulder, watching you unbundled your seatbelt. "Trust me, he won't be sad if you call it quits. I've worked for guys like this for more than thirty years- they'll just jump to the next." He explains, and you smile to yourself, before you nod towards the man. "Never mess with entertainers, sweetheart. They'll always break your heart." he offers.

"I know." You say once more, before you exit the car, and get on your way to Jungkook's hotel room.

You don't officially share one, but he still keeps you around for most of the night. You leave whenever he has to do a livestream or if he wants to go to bed, and you come back if he wants you to- but most nights you sleep alone, because he deems it too intimate for you to stay.

Apparently, sleeping in the same bed is more intimate than spitting on your cunt. Interesting.

When you knock on the door, Jungkook opens. Something's off, you notice it right away, but you don't dwell on it, don't answer. It's none of your business, and he won't tell you anyways, so what's the point in just further inducing his bad mood.

It's quiet as he moves around, since he doesn't talk to you, and you don't know what to say. You wait for him to make his move, and when he doesn't, you get up to grab your sweater you forgot in his room earlier, just to have him stand behind you, hands on your hips. "I didn't forget about you." He chuckles, and you let the fabric slip out of your fingers and back onto the floor as he kisses the crook of your neck.

Maybe jungkook is indeed using you. But you've started to use him just as much, if only to even out the odds, and make yourself feel more than just cheap company.

He slips out of his shirt. You raise your arms to help him take off yours, your naked skin at this point almost a requirement for him every time he takes you. He used to be satisfied with just fucking you somewhere quiet quick and simple to quench his thirst, but over the course of time now nearing an entire year, he's become more and more hungry. Like he wants to crawl underneath your skin at some point, the Idol constantly pushes himself more and more inside your body, not just in a sexual sense. He buys you clothes he thinks will look good on you, has a playlist just for when you're at his place filled with somber lovesongs more about heartbreak than anything else. He claims he didn't look up the lyrics, but you know he's lying. He knows a lot more english than he admits, just so he can pull the 'I don't understand' card whenever he's asked a question he doesn't want to answer.

He lets you wear his clothes without much comment by now, has gifted you jewelry he's worn and liked, laughs any mention of that being 'such a sweet gesture' off if anyone around him mentions it. He's not your boyfriend, but he surely is starting to act like it- maybe the lines are blurring for him just as much as they do for you?

People around you have started betting. On when he's gonna have another one, when you'll be 'swapped out' for something else, or at what point he's gonna make it official that you're indeed more than just nightly company. You don't await that day. It's never gonna come anyways.

"Turn around." He commands, and you do, because that's the easiest way to get where you want to be down the line. Head empty, no thoughts left, fucked stupid by a man who keeps you around for just your body and the familiarity you provide. You don't really mind any longer, long having stopped caring about emotions that are fruitless, bound to rot and die because Jungkook won't ever nurture anything you'd try and plant in his heart. He doesn't want it, and doesn't need it either- if he wants to feel loved, he just has to show his face to his millions of fans always on edge for more content. That's where he gets his love from. Maybe you're just there to feed other desires he can't have fulfilled like that.

He licks his lips as he gazes over your naked upper body, bra long undone by his hands on your back, fingers trained in the routine by now. You remember the surprise he'd shown you when you'd worn one with the clasp up front, face so soft and round for just a second that it felt like you'd just slipped into a dream- but his hunger had quickly returned, because Jungkook is a beast never satisfied. He craves more and more, constantly aims for absolute euphoria, never soft, never gentle.

Jungkook bites. He claims, grips, holds and pushes- he's aware over the physical strength he holds over you, and plays around with the fact almost every night. From tugging on your leg to pushing your head down whenever you decide to please him with your mouth instead for once. Something about the way you swallow around him and swirl your tongue always makes him feral, thighs trembling as the muscles spasm beneath the skin from the force of his orgasm. Maybe that's why he keeps you around. Because you can keep up.

His own shirt is shed, and his hands make quick work of his belt before he helps you out of your pants as well. He'd told you he didn't want to use the bed tonight, because asking for new sheets is always awkward, but he does it anyways- picks you up just to let you fall onto the bed, crawling over you. "What do you want?" You ask out of breath, but he just tilts his head in familiar habit, until it shakes no.

"Don't know yet." He answers. This is new.

Usually he always has a fixed scene set out, knows how he wants to take you right away, but this time he visibly seems unsure where to start. Almost like the first time.

He spits in his hand, doesn't bother taking off the rings, fingers working you up like it's second nature. He knows where to place them, how to move and what patterns to choose- and you don't bother thinking about the possible reason for it. Probably to get you wet and ready quick so he can get to the actual act itself, or maybe he just finds some sort of personal satisfaction from it. You're not sure- and neither do you really want to ask.

You're a little cold, but he'll warm you up soon. Hopefully you won't get sick like last time. Will he find someone else to fuck if you're unavailable?

Who knows. He surely has a lot to choose from, if he so much as asked.

He's got a question on his mind, but visibly contemplates on asking it. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip, tongue playing with the twin piercings placed there for a second, before he leans in, kisses you. This is one of those things he does that are just outright cruel to you. His kisses full of fever and want feel so burning hot that you're sure you're marked by them for life. Like a signature he's inked underneath your skin almost he claims you again and again like this, with his tongue teasing yours, mouths open and ready to steal each other's breath.

He surely takes yours hostage, every time- and that's probably the smallest crime he commits.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, and it catches you off guard, eyes opening again, painfully tugged back into reality where he lets his sticky hand run over your abdomen, just to settle on your hipbone. "Your stomach keeps growling." He teases, and you come crashing down. Of course. He'd never actually remember to ask that out of the blue if it wasn't for something reminding him about it.

"Not really." You respond, adjusting your position a little bit, legs trying to pull him closer. "Doesn't matter." You say, and he hums, leaning down again to mouth at your neck- probably marking his territory again, a joke made on a constant whenever you turn up with the blooming bruises on your skin, their origin more than obvious.

"Hm." He hums, almost dissatisfied, but you don't bother to think about it. He moves to lean off the side of the bed, pulling his suitcase closer to get himself a condom, opening the package easily before he rolls it over his length. He seems oddly soft tonight, in more ways than one. Is he still exhausted from the shooting? Could be. He never wants to admit himself that he has to take breaks, thinks that his body can just magically manifest strength from nothing but pure thought, and it used to irritate you, because you felt responsible, in a way. But that was when you still saw more in this than there actually was- nowadays, it's his business, not yours. He's got nutritionists and personal trainers who get paid for taking care of him. It's not your job.

What is your job, really?

Well, you're most certainly not working under his company any longer, and neither have you returned to your original agency either- simply because Jungkook's management deemed you too much of a danger in your position, after the idol had let it slip that you two were having sex on a regular basis. So you just signed an NDA, got paid for your silence, now earning a living by writing books. Modern fantasy novels, where the daydreams you once had can actually become reality, and your hopes and wishes can be dreamed of by other people who have the same.

It's good money. A hobby you cherish.

Jungkook has never asked you what you work as nowadays. He doesn't even visit your apartment, has never seen it before, and he doesn't know if you have family either. He just takes you as his, lets you live alongside him and entertains you whenever he's in the mood for it. And you let him, because these days, he's all you've got. There's not much else you can do than write all day at home or accompany him on his overseas schedules.

You're not sure why he always drags you along, when back home, he won't even call you for days. Maybe he doesn't have to? Maybe his bed at home is always warm. But if that's the case, why not take them on a trip once in a while? Does he have designated women for specific occasions?

Then who will the woman be he chooses to show to the public one day? Number three in his harem?

You can't even truly blame him. As someone he grew up in this industry, his view on the world is warped, shifted, not the same colors as yours. He doesn't feel the same worth in a simple banknote that you do, he can't understand the struggle of missing the bus or having to face an empty fridge.

"Sit up, baby." He tells you, chuckles when you struggle a little to do so- compared to him, flying around all the time actually does take a toll on you. And the petname doesn't make it any better in this moment, as his hands reach out to hold you steady, helping your legs over his thighs, before he guides the head of his cock into you. He wants you close tonight it seems like. Hopefully he keeps holding you, because you're not very energetic this time. "I've got you." He says, and you nod, resting your arms around his neck, hands faintly touching the skin of his back. "Are you cold?" He wonders.

"A bit." You respond. He's probably noticed your icy fingertips.

"I'll warm you up." He purrs, and you nod. You know he will. He always does- always hot hearted in everything he does, even in this. He holds you close, hands on your behind helping you move, your hips rolling a bit too slow for his liking, but he overlooks it for once. You're not sure what's up with him tonight. This isn't him. "You tired, baby?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Sorry." You tell him, but he shakes his head, moves to lay you down, knees pressed into the soft hotel bed mattress as he thrusts his hips forwards.

"It's alright." He brushes it off. "Flight was long as hell." He muses, lazily moving himself. You're enjoying this, even if it's odd for him to behave this way. "Wanna come over for breakfast tomorrow morning?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"Can't." You sigh, arms now moving to lay above your head, eyes closed in bliss. "I fly out back home at 8 tomorrow." You remind him, and you can't see the way his brows lower, face darkening as he realizes he didn't know that. You usually fly back after him. Why are you going home sooner this time?

"Why?" He huffs out, hands grabbing your legs as he pulls your thighs over his, pushing himself deeper now. "You always fly after me." He almost growls.

"I dunno.." You slur. "Management said." You just respond. Why does he seem so irritated by this? It's not a huge deal at all if you fly back sooner or later. He's not gonna call you up back home anyways, so why does it bother him so much.

"Management can go fuck themselves." He argues. "You fly after me. I'll book the flight myself if I have to." he demands practically, slight irritation causing him to have his energy boil up, position adjusted as he becomes more restless, balls smacking loudly against you cunt, pace a lot more ruthless now.

You're finally reaching it. Your head becomes fuzzy.

You don't notice Jungkook becoming almost.. satisfied from that sight of your tension finally leaving. You're nothing but whimpers of pleasure as he slips out of you, hands tugging and pushing your legs and body to have you on your side, the taller Idol now laying down on his side behind you to spoon you, dragging the head of his length through your soaked and slicked up folds. one hand holds up your thigh, helps in opening you up, though you're pretty much gaping from his girth stretching you out moments prior. His lips find your shoulder, your neck, as he pushes himself back inside with the help of your hands-

who suddenly do something new as well, tugging the condom from his cock, making him gasp out in sensitivity. "What're you doing?" He grows.

"IUD." You tell him. "Please-" You beg, and yet again he moves as if awakened from slumber, pushing you halfway on your stomach as he pushes the now bare head of his cock back inside you. This is most certainly new, and he knows for a fact, that he's never going back again.

"Fuck.." He almost laughs, leaning over you now, body covering yours as he just pushes himself in for a good moment, humming a sound of pleasure into your neck as he lets himself relish in the new sensation. "Ah-" He sighs out, before he clenches his jaw, thrusting hard as if to make sure your body will remember him for days to come.

It will. Sadly.

"God, fuck-!" He groans out, holding onto your body now, having turned you onto your side, hand reaching out adjust your arm so he can see your face. Your lips are parted, eyes closed in bliss, and he can't help but have his hand smack down onto your behind that's moving in a way that's way too inviting. He does it a second time, slap clearly heard as he smirks at the way you clench around his cock currently rearranging your insides. He moves your leg to rest over his shoulder, reaching even deeper, hand underneath your belly button pressing where he can faintly feel himself move.

No one can blame him for being absolutely obsessed with your body.

He can feel the way you begin to tighten, thighs shaking a little as you come undone, his hands moving your legs again to close them once more, holding them up, slipping out of your clenching cunt to push his cock right between your soft and wet thighs. it's enough for a moment, though you reach out to touch the tip poking through almost teasingly, making him laugh as he suddenly sighs out, groaning as he spills over your stomach and up your chest. You're breathing heavily, and don't notice you start to shiver, as he parts from you to turn on the light in the bathroom to clean up.

Aftercare is not really his thing- and you've come to accept that.

When you sit up, you stretch your arms in front of you, muscles slowly regaining strength as you wait for Jungkook to finish up, toilet flushing before he emerges again, shamelessly walking without underwear, gaze following you as you walk past him to use the bathroom yourself.

The moment you re-emerge to grab your clothes, he's sitting on the edge of the bed with his boxers back on, phone in his hand. "I booked the flight for you. Tomorrow at 12:30." He tells you as you slip back into your underwear, not bothering with the bra as you search for where he'd thrown your shirt. "Here." He offers- and you slip the garment on with a thanks, only noticing afterwards that that's not yours at all, oversized fabric reaching almost to your knees. "Cute." He comments way too quiet to be meant to be heard, so you don't mention it at all.

"Why is the flight-thing so important?" You wonder, slipping into your socks as he moves around to find the hotel room service menu.

"Because you always fly back after me." He repeats again, clearing his throat.

"…you already said that." You mumble to yourself, but he clearly hears you.

"Fuck alright, god damnit!" He whines in complaint, rolling his eyes. "If you were to fly back earlier, you'll run right into all the paparazzi and shit waiting for me. That's why you're meant to fly back later- so they're gone by the time you arrive." He explains, and you're stunned in the spot you're standing, watching him a bit confused.

So that's the reason?

"It's not like they know." You say, unsure why he's so adamant about it.

"Doesn't matter." He shakes his head. "I'm not having them jump you for whatever reason they might have." He denies, before he sits down in the seat near the window which blinds are shut. "Now what do you wanna eat?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"I'll eat something tomorrow morning." You deny, and he slumps back in his seat, eyes closed and tongue pushed against his cheek.

"What do you want to fucking eat, babe." He repeats, making sure to pronounce the petname before he looks at you with frustration.

"Nothing." You respond. "Are we done?" You ask him, and he shakes his head, setting the menu down before he crosses his arms.

"No." He denies. "What to they call you?" He asks, and you're not sure what he's getting at, shaking your head with brows furrowed in confusion.

"What're you talking about?" You ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"What do they call you?" He repeats. "I heard what you talked about in the car when I left."

"How?" You ask baffled.

"Telepathy." He jokes without humor, before he scoffs to himself. "I called you to actually ask you if you wanted to eat something- but you must've accidentally accepted the call without looking, because I clearly listened in on a convo I wasn't supposed to hear." He explains. "Either way, I want an answer. What. Do. They. Call. You." He demands, and you sigh.

"Why does it matter?" You argue, searching for your leggings in the room- finding them over the armrest of the chair he's currently sitting in. "I'm your personal prostitute, just without the pay." You tell him, and it takes him a second to realize that that's your answer.

Suddenly, he wants you out the room.

Not because he doesn't want you here any longer, but because the guilt is eating him alive with ever second he has to look at you. Because the more he think about it, the more it becomes obvious to him that this really must look like just that to everyone. After all, he's just taking you with him apparently for sex, and he's become so comfortable in it that he didn't think about it any longer. It's what you want too, right?

Jungkook has never really learned how to convey his emotions properly. He doesn't know what it's like to fall in love, has no idea what to look out for. He likes spending time with you, and enjoys the sex to the point that he's been monogamous with only you for the past year or so. It's nice to be in a relationship, even though he knows this one isn't normal. It's still okay, because down the line, you understand each other. He likes you, he just doesn't want people to use that against him or you at some point- so he keeps your status to himself. No one needs to know you're a couple. Only you and him. Because.. you know that, right?

"You know that's not what you are to me, right?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Does it matter?" You ask. "It's none of my business who I am to you, or whoever you screw apart from me." You say.

"What?" He asks, crossed arms unraveling. "I'm not fucking anyone but you." He says.

"Cool." You say.

"Cool? That's it?" He argues. "How can you be so calm about everyone else telling you I'm apparently cheating on you?" He worries, and you're yet again confused.

"What're you talking about?" You ask. "That's got nothing to do with cheating." You say.

"No no no no whoa there. Stop for a second." He holds his hands out as if to soothe a raging crowd of people, looking at the carpet. "You- you do know we're in a relationship, right?" He asks you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know. "Oh my fucking god are you kidding me…" He complains into his hands, covering his face in frustration.

"How the hell was I supposed to know?" You say, now with your own arms crossed. "Jungkook, you rarely even talk to me when we're back home. You only take me with you when you've got something up overseas, you constantly tell people we're just friends, you've never even asked me out in the first place!" You argue.

"We've been fucking each other for almost a year, I thought it was obvious I liked you?!" He whines, looking at you with what you realize are tears brimming on his waterline. Why is he so emotional now? "Have you- did you see anyone other than me?" He asks quietly, and you shake your head.

"No." You deny.

"Okay. Fuck- okay." He takes a deep breath, swallows down his panic. "I like you. I don't- I've got no clue if it's love or not because I don't know, alright? But I like you, a lot, to the point where I want us to be something permanent." He tries to explain. "Just us. You and me." He underlines, and you shrug.

"Jungkook, it's not that easy." You sigh. "If this has been what you think a relationship is like, then we won't work out."

"Alright, then what do you need me to do?" He argues, not letting go. "God- fuck, tell me what do I have to do to make you stay?" He asks, voice cracking.

"Jungkook, calm down-" You start, but he shakes his head, swallows thickly, bottom lip quivering for just a second before he licks over it, pulls it in between his teeth.

"I can't-! Not when it sounds like you're gonna leave me-" He worries.

"I'm not, don't worry. I'll stay. Just.. breathe for a second, alright?" You ask, getting up to walk closer, pushing his shoulders back to force him out of his slumped over position. "Hey- okay?" You ask, and he instead pulls you closer, sits you onto his lap, before he clings onto you, resting his forehead in your shoulder. "Why do you never reach out to me when we're home? You're confusing me." You gently tell him, and he shrugs.

"I'm scared they'll see you." He sniffles. "If they do- they'll tear you apart." He sighs. "When we're out here, like this- I can just.. claim you're staff, whatever. But at home- I can't.. I don't know how to protect you." He shakes his head.

"You should've told me." You sigh, leaning into him. "I was hurt, you know?" You tell him.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." He apologizes, pulls you just a bit closer. "I don't know what to do." He whines.

"What if you just visit me instead?" You offer. "They don't know where I live. And my windows are all mirrored so no one can look inside." You tell him.

"…since when?" he asks, leaning away from you a little so that you can finally see his face again, eyes red, a stray tear escaping him that you wipe off.

"Since a few months ago? Jungkook you don't even know my apartment in the first place. You've never visited me at all, ever!" You laugh, and he sighs.

"I know, and I.. always wanted to, you know, visit you.. spend time with you but.." He runs a hand over his face.

"You're okay. We talked about it now." You nod, an action he copies. "I'll come back tomorrow morning and we can have breakfast together, okay?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"No, you gotta stay." He denies. "I don't care if you don't like that, but I need you close tonight." He says.

"Never said I don't." You say. "You just seemed uncomfortable with it." You wonder.

"Because I snore!" He whines, throwing his head back. "I snore, I move a lot, I might cling to you at night or I sweat, or whatever the fuck- I'm not as perfect as I'm made out to be." He complains.

"Jungkook sorry, but what the fuck." You laugh, and he can't help but smile at the sight and sound of you happy. "You can fart and burp like whatever, and I'd still stay. You're human, I'm not perfect either!" You explain, but he shakes his head, leaning forwards to kiss your already blossoming bruises on your neck.

"No, you are." He says. "You're absolutely perfect." He argues.

"Not really." You deny.

"Stop arguing." He complains, squeezes your waist a bit.

"What're you gonna do about it?" You tease, and he looks up at you with a heated gaze.

"Get me nice n' hard and I'll show you." He responds, making you giggle with eyes rolling, as you lean back to tug him out of his underwear, a hiss leaving him. "Fuck, baby your hands are icy!" He laughs, leaning back to hold your legs so you don't slip off of his thighs.

"That's cause it's cold in here!" You joke back, warming your hands up on his already heated length, skin already flushed and swelling as the blood rushes back. His hands travel beneath the shirt you wear, softly grabbing at the flesh of your chest, making you get up to shed your underwear and get back onto his lap.

"Think you can ride me on this thing?" He asks, talking about the seat he's sitting in. "Kinda tired right now, won't lie."

"Huh, making me do all the work now?" You raise your brows. "And here I thought you wanted to take us seriously.." You sigh, attempting to joke- but he clearly doesn't take it as such, face becoming serious again.

"Lift your hips a little." He demands, and you do so- unsure what he's trying to do, before he spits into his hand once more, feeling you up between your legs to check if you're ready. You are- quickly slicking up at the thought of him, and he guides his length inside of you again, stretching you out once more, but this time, it's not just sex.

He refuses to move. He just helps you settle on his lap, but holds onto your hips, keeping you from moving. "Jungkook-" You whine, but he shakes his head, and pulls your face closer to kiss you.

"No, I wanna stay like this for a bit." He denies.

"But I thought we wanted to eat something later?" You ask, making him roll his eyes.

"I'm trying to be romantic here." He complains.

"By putting your dick inside me?" You ask.

"Well I don't know what else to do!" He whines. "I.. I don't really know how else to properly express.." He falls deep into thought for a second or two, before he finally says it. "I don't know how else to make sure you can.."

"..feel how much I love you."

You're quiet for a good while, watching how he rather looks at your neck than at you in particular, avoiding eye contact as he continues to move his hands back to your sides underneath your shirt. "Jungkook…" You mumble, and he cringes.

"Don't-" He sighs, clicks his tongue in irritation. "-don't pity me or something-" He begins.

"No no no I'm not pitying you I just-" You cut him off, now your hands holding his cheeks to force him to look at you. Because you just realized something in the things he's said earlier. "Remember how you said.. you want me to fly back after you?" You ask, and he nods.

"Yeah." He answers, his way warmer palms now taking yours from his face, holding them in his. "Of course."

"That's.. something that also shows that you care about me." You say. "Because, you didn't say that you were worried about someone spotting me and putting your career on the line- but that you were worried about me being in danger." You remind him, and he nods. "Or how you noticed my stomach growling, and wondered if I ate today." You giggle.

"I already wondered if you didn't- cause I didn't see you eat anything." He shrugs.

"See?" You hum towards him, running your hand through his hair. "That shows you care, too." You say.

"But I want you to feel it." He complains stubbornly. "I want you to.. feel the same as I do when I'm around you." He offers.

"Horny?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes, throwing his head back.

"That too-" He laughs. "But mostly.. just, I don't know." He takes a deep breath. "It's hard to explain. It's like chest constricts when I'm not around you. Whenever I'm home, I miss you so bad that I sometimes go to sleep early just to avoid giving in and calling you. I have to distract myself just to not think about you- and yet I still do, almost all the time." He sighs, tucking your hair behind your ears. "When I wake up.." He hums, hands moving to your shoulders. "When I do my morning routine.." He explains, letting his fingers travel over the length of your arms. "When I work out.." He continues. "When I go to bed. It doesn't matter at all." He shakes his head.

"You know you don't have to make up something just to make me stay, right?" You ask him, and at that, his eyes immediately snap back up to you, panic returning.

"I'm not." He denies instantly. "I'm really not-" he urges. "-how can I prove it?" He worries.

"You.. listen, it's not something that you can just clear up in a moment." You sigh. "It's gonna take time. We're basically starting from scratch here." You explain, and he nods.

"Do you.. should we stop then?" He asks, glancing between your bodies for a second. "Until you believe me?" He wonders, and you shrug, before you shake your head.

"No." You deny. "I'd miss you too much-" You tell him, before you adjust your legs, arms around his neck. "-And you'd probably go insane without sex." You tease.

"Not without sex." He denies, watching how you begin to move your hips, letting him slip out until just the very tip remains inside you. "But without you." He clarifies. "It's not sex I want- that's a… I don't know. It's the closeness I feel, you know?" He sighs when you sink back down. "I just like touching you.. being inside you.." He hums, eyes fluttering closed as he leans back into the seat while your hands settle on his shoulders to keep you balanced, pace slow but fast enough to intensify the pleasure you both feel. "Just like that.." He sighs out in bliss.

"I have a really nice couch, you know?" You hum towards him, making him smile while his hands find your waist. "My bed is really big too.." You tell him, and he opens his eyes a little at that.

"Big enough for two?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Guess we have to find out." You tease, and he nods, hands moving from your waist to your hips before one of them finds your heat between your legs where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.

"Is the couch sturdy?" He wonders, fingers playing with your clit now, making the muscles in your thighs twitch.

"Ah- yes!" You whine, picking up your pace.

"Hm, gonna fuck you on it then." He chuckles. "Stress-test it." He jokes, and you whimper as you come undone, your slick now coating his own legs, strings of the sticky fluid keeping you both connected, wet sounds echoing off the walls of the hotel room. "Break it." He growls, heels on the ground helping him in shifting his hips upwards into you, catching you off guard, your orgasm washing over you in a wave threatening to drown you.

You're shaking, but you still move, needing to feel him reach his high as well, and he does find his own release, spilling whatever he's got left to give, holding you close, kissing whatever skin he can reach from how you're hugging him now, breathing slowly easing again.

And he keeps you like this, uncaring of the food since it's by now too late to order any roomservice anyways.

And for the first time, he actually sleeps next to you, in the same bed-

promising himself to do everything he can to keep you this close, for now and as long as you'll have him.

[majeoeje]

Thousand suns

Tanjiro X Reader

I'd give you my heart even if i knew you’ll break it

He changed you. In was subtle and painfully slow, but it was far too late for you once you realized the hold that Kamado Tanjiro had on you. He practically got you wrapped on his fingers without him realizing

"I accidently bought an extra haori, on my last mission, i thought it would look nice on you" he said, with that priceless smile of his

Now you never left the house without it.

"That's a really beautiful hairpin [name], it suits you well!"

Now you always wear it.

"I love how this tea is so fragrant, thank you so much for bringing it to me" he says, still smiling despite breaking countless of bones in his body

Now a cup of warm jasmine tea always mysteriously appear beside his table every day he lay to rest in the infirmary.

You truly could get lost in the echoes of his voice calling your name as your heart swells in contentment.

GOD. It was embarassing. Some part of you resented how easily swayed you were when it comes to him, acting like a lovesick fool, wearing your heart on your sleeve. But how could you not? When the boy right in front of you has the purest heart out of everyone you ever met in your life. If it was him, you wouldn't mind having your heart break again and again until it could only be recognize as a pile of mush.

But nonetheless, you wouldn't give him your heart. you wouldn't want him to see how tainted you truly are, a tarred and rotten soul.

The only thing beautiful that truly came from your heart was your newfound love for him. But of course you knew it wasn't right for him to be with someone like you, it wasn't right... you should do everything in your power to stop it. But your selfish desires wanted to keep this feeling. Even if it's only for yourself, and you hated that.

"[Name] you're spacing out again.... are you alright?"

He touched your hand, you could feel the calloused hard skin of his palm under your bandaged hand. The warmth in itself could set you ablaze

"Ah- sorry Tanjiro, my mind was.. somewhere else.."

"That is quite alright.... But are you feeling better now? That tree demon was quite the handful is it not? Haha!” he says, trying to lighten the mood, as he always do. You layed helplessly with 8 broken bones and a harsh scar that dragged from your right shoulder to your left waist, his existance could soothe all wounds in your body.

"You're right!.. Ahaha..ha.." you laughed uncharacteristically dry, trying to make your point accross for him to just go away.

But he only sat himself closer to you, before he starts chatting away about his wonderful day with the water hashira Giyuu, and his soba eating contest. It was heartfelt, heartwarming and so so precious. How you wanted to just listen to his voice all day...

"Tanjiro-!..."

He was cut off from his story, looking at you confused

"I think.. it's time for you to go. I am rather-...tired, i wish to rest"

The doubt and hurt expression in your face sent strings of guilt in Tanjiro’s heart, he was so immersed in your company that he didn’t realize your discomfort.

"I apologize for keeping you at bay, please rest well [Name]!” he said, before he sweetly tucked your blanket and fixed your pillow for you

“I’ll write to you! I hope the letters doesn’t get lost in the way this time too”

The familliar sounds of his steps gradually becoming more faint as he went away

"I'm the worst." You say (you are, there’s no doubt about it)

You sat yourself eyes glued to the drawer filled with Tanjiro's unanswered letters. You slowly took one, and held it close to your heart. You could still smell the dried wisteria flowers that he gifted you along side it.

"Well that was..” a voice suddenly said not visible to your line of vision

“INCREDIBLY STUPID.” Goto said, an unlucky Kakushi that by some unfortunate chance had to listen to your pathetic teenage love story.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE???!!" you said, surprised. Has your instincs as a demon slayer weakened over the course of your bedridden days? It has only been a week??

"Maybe if you weren't so enamoured by him, then you'd notice i've been standing here the whole damn time." The vein bulging out of anger in hid forehead was far from not visible.

He was right, despite your efforts in trying to avoid him, everyone could notice how your eyes still wouldn’t budge away from him

"Can you not?..Don't you see that i'm a heartbroken mess??"

"AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT" he said, as he poked your face aggresively.

You looked at him offended before turning the other way. You both knew the answer

He sighed. He was a 23 year old man, consulting 2 teenagers on their love life. Dream job right here..

But despite his irritated tone. You could tell there was sincerity in his words. You had grown used to his counseling daily over these week.

Well it's not like you could go anywhere else.

"Look kid, i know, you think that you're not good enough for him because of something you did in the past.. but, that kid looks at you-"

"He looks at everyone like that-" you cut off again, before earning an earnest pinch on your arm"

"OW OW-"

"LET ME FINISH." He sighed again "he looks at you as if you hunged the stars, it's wildly obvious. i think that despite what you believe, out of everyone... maybe Tanjiro could forgive you for what you did in the past."

Forgiveness.. could anyone ever forgive you for what you did? You were at fault for the destruction of your whole village. To say that someone in this world would think anything else but vicious of you would be something more self serving.

You were glad you were still face the other way. Because at least you could pretend that you weren't crying over this.

"... you're just saying that to make me feel better..." you said pathetically as you layed on that infirmary bed miserably. You haven't missed a day where you haven't wondered if the outcome would've been different.

"Maybe. But you wouldn't know until you've said something. Don’t throw this away, is all i’m saying" he shrugged, before leaving the infirmary. Leaving you to reflect

You look to the side to find Tanjiro's blade being left behind. He left his sword.. you thought

But it's okay.. you can just ask someone else to retreive it. It's no big deal just don't think about him!

Alone at last..

Alone again.

You were always okay with that. But having to meet Tanjiro, some parts of you could bear to stand it no longer. As if a gnawing feeling to seek his presence haunts your dreams and every waking moment. How could you wish to recover from this? How can you recover from him?

You couldn't..

What if he needed his sword..? You said internally, knowing well he was just going to The Water Hashira’s residence for a meet up. What if he encouter a demon on the way there? Better safe than sorry... you thought, knowing well it's 7 in the morning

The sounds of your steps echoing through the corridor of the butterfly estate, at first Aoi was too busy cooking to notice but the sounds of your painful screech and every huff through your painful steps on the hardwood floors

But your instincts maybe had really dulled because you didn’t hear Aoi coming out of the kitchen

"Going somewhere?"

Aoi says, with the knife that she forgot to set aside in his hand. The murderous aura coming out of her wasn't helping whatsoever...

"....Just taking a walk?.... AhaHA- please put that down, Aoi... "

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE RESTING!!" She yelled at you, scolding you for your behaviour knowing damn well you're supposed to be resting.

What you didn't know however was that Tanjiro was already on his way inside the Butterfly Mansion once again, remembering to retrieve his sword.

Though his hearing wasn't that very good after the fight with upper moon 4 making him walk straight to your heated scolding session.

"Sorry Aoi.." you said, in what you could only describe as your defeated cries.

"Aoi-san? What's wrong?.." he said, finally realizing the situation after seeing you sat on the floor while Aoi stood up waving her arms around like a parent after finding out their child did something bad.

Aoi let out a groaned before instructing Tanjiro to escort you back to your bed.

Seeing you carry around his sword though lets him know of your intentions. Seeing that precious smile plastered on his face made you somewhat embarassed... it's as if he could read you easily like an open book. It was as if even if you tried to do anything discreet, he'd found you out everytime. It was as if no matter how many times you run and hide your adoration from him.. that smile would appear and ruined it all.

"Thank you [name], you didn't have to do that...." he said as he sat you on the infirmary bed. "You're

"It's nothing really... but-" you tried to give a rebuttle, trying to downplay your situation.

"And here i was afraid you might be avoiding me for some reason...." he said, maybe he didn't realize it. But that smile could melt you sooner than the power of a thousand suns "I'm glad!.. i really am.."

Oh.. there it is that tingly feeling again.

you're fucked.

"I'm sorry Tanjiro... but, you're actually correct" you could even say he's on the nose... haha.

"I must admit that i have been avoiding you. And trust me it's nothing against you.." oh it's everything against him.

"I want you to know that.. so please do not worry"

You held his hand, the thought he would pull away from your touch hanted your mind, but he sat there intertwining his fingers with yours. You could get lost in him. His touch, his voice, his warmth.. and those eyes.

"Then... would you tell me what happened?.." he asked, the melody of his voice lulling you in a daydream

"I.. i think i fell in love w-" SHIT. That was your outside voice.. you blame him for distracting you in such manner.

"HUH-" Tanjiro were surprised with your words.. pushing a precariously obvious intrest in his tone of voice "W-with who?.. ahaha-" he laughed nervously

"I- it doesn't matter!!" You shook your head violantly feeling him coming closer. The proximity only pushing you to spill all your guts altogether...

"I- it's just that.. it doesn't matter because he doesn't love me back.. you know?... there's no way he would ever accept a heart like mine" you say incredibly negative, waving your hand around like some idiot. Breaking the handholding that was previously established. “Which is why i’m a little down in the dumps lately… but i know i’ll get over it so don’t worry!”

"Ah-" you felt Tanjiro catching your hands in the air and putting them together”

“Anyone who rejects your heart are clearly stupid!” Tanjiro says, rather angrily. “Please don’t be upset.. that person couldn’t began to imagine your value!!”

Well you technically weren’t rejected yet, he may has misunderstood.

“You really don’t have to comfort me Tanjiro.”

“I’m serious..” he pried, wanting you to see his truth “you’re kind. More than you think. You’re sensitive… loyal.. not to mention determined-“

“Tanjiro-“

“It’s lovely. Your heart that is..”

You were taken aback by his words. It’s as if you could hear a sweet melody playing along with the uncontrollable beat of your heart as your cheeks grew warm unwillingly

This moment was nothing but tender, you wanted nothing but to melt in his arms.

“You’re probably the only one who thinks of me that way, Tanjiro.”

Your words rang nonsense through his ears. How can that be true when you take his breath away in every second of the day? If he could then he’d happily spend hours of his day explaining every wonderful aspects of you. He’ll hammer that idea in your head if he could.

"Then.." he trailed of. Breaking eye contact. You missed the way flush spread all over his complexion all this time, only realizing the embarassement and hesitance that was plastered obvious so

"Can i have it?"

"W-wha.."

"Your heart.. May i have it?" He said, fixing his words as he looks into your eyes in anticipation. "That is.. if you're willing to have me of course."

Woah.

...

WOAH?

WAIT....WOAH!?!?!

At this point you don't think you could even give your heart to anyone else...nor even him because your heart has probably already exploded at that moment.

It took you more than a while to process with Tanjiro looking at you, concerned for you, he didn't even know if you were lucid by how many times he called out to you.

"SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT" Said Goto behind you, as he swiftly hit you right in the head. Yup, that does the job

"But- i- you.. i think maybe you-" your words got caught up in your throat as Tanjiro inspects the back of your head right where goto landed his unforgiving blow, that will surely leave a bruise.

You could hear Tanjiro’s worried comments about how mean it was for Goto to do such a thing as he caress your bruise trying to soothe the pain.

"Fix your breath,kid" he said, clicking his tounge in impatiebce before disappearing again, he knows when you need a moment alone. Reliable as always, though it gets creepy how he shows up out of no where.

Despite his harsh punch, you knew he was right. You took a deep breath and exhaled, calming your nerves, while Tanjiro sat beside you attentively

“Tanjiro..” you called his name, you never wish for it to be the last time you do. So you might as well tell your truth

"You.. you're the kindest person i ever known. But i have a background that is beyond tainted, it's not right for me to keep that from you. Please understand that i'm a person who will forever bear the consequences of my sins, i... there's no reality where i can think that i deserve you."

That would go along a fact that maybe there wasn’t a reality where you didn’t yearn for him.

"Don't say that.. please don't say that!" He yelled, now clenching your hands despretely

“If i have to, then i’ll bear half of your sins so that you didn’t need to feel that way.” He loved you, despretely. And it pains him that you thought of yourself that way when he worship the ground you walk upon

“I want you to know that there’s no reality where i don’t love you”

You intended to say ‘i love you too’ you loved him above all else. But the words got caught up in your throat,replaced by your choked sobs

Tanjiro sat there, comforting you, wiping away your tears patiently.

To help people was something that Tanjiro always aspires to do. He does it even without thinking.. but when it was with you, he can't help but overthink his actions would they like this? Would it be weird if i complimented them? Would it be too obvious? At some point he worries the nice things that he tries to do for you ultimately come from the a selfish desire to woo you. He worries it wasn't genuine and it was self serving. He worries that he wasn't doing this right.

But what he worried the most was that he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop basking in your smile, your light, your attention, your presence. He knew he was getting spoiled.

"Would you take me, even like this?" You said, you didn’t have to give your heart to him, it was already his

"I wouldn't have you any other way".

[scekrex]

Adam is so big compared to everyone else I just keep thinking of him carrying reader around everywhere. On his shoulder, lounging in the crook of his arm, perched on his back. He doesn’t have time for your tiny legs to keep up when you’re walking, he’s gonna scoop ya up!

I've been talking about that w my boyfriend some time ago and I fucking love the thought of Adam carrying his lover around so fucking much. Like yeah, pick me up 'n' carry me around like the fucking prince I feel like.

About bragging and loving

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam rushed through heaven’s streets, or at least it seemed that way to you, this fuckhead you adored so much had some fucking long legs and therefore was a lot faster than you. While normally he was walking slower in order to chat with you or just enjoy your presence walking next to him, that wasn’t the case this time, this time he kept up his pace and when he looked backwards to check what was taking you so long, he rolled his eyes when he saw that you were further behind than he had thought. God be damned for making you shorter than him - not that he truly minded, he couldn’t care less about your height, but right now he didn’t feel like walking as slow as a fucking grandfather. So he stopped in his tracks and waited for you to catch up to him - which took you a little while, even though you were walking quite fast. Yet not fast enough to keep up to his insanely quick pace, you doubted that anyone was able to keep up with him at this point. “C’mere,” he mumbled under his breath as he grabbed you under your shoulders and lifted you all the way up until you were sitting on his shoulders, “Your slow ass takes way too fucking long.”

You were completely caught off guard and therefore didn’t really react to what just happened, Adam had always made it clear that he wasn’t a taxi or whatever so him just carrying you around randomly usually only happens when you promised him something in return. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying carrying you around, he absolutely loved it, but there was a difference between carrying you around the house and carrying you around in public - at least to him there was. And you understood, if he felt uncomfortable doing so you were the last person who would force him to do otherwise. “The fuck?” you asked quietly, the question was more directed to yourself than him, yet he was quick to respond, “You better get used to it, bitch.” Which was even more surprising because why? He never minded walking slower so that you were able to keep up with him. “Gotta show my fiancè off ‘n’ how fucking handsome he is,” he added quickly, seemingly sensing your confusion about his statement. “Ah so this is to brag, huh?” you grinned, leaning over his head to look down at him. His golden eyes shot upwards, seeking for yours, a grin was also found on his face as he gave you a light nod, “Bet your sexy ass it fucking is.” That on the other hand, made much more sense - at least it did a little bit. As Adam continued to walk through heaven’s streets you were busy petting his soft brown hair that you loved to play with so much. If this was how the afterlife would continue to be, you were indeed quite fond of the idea of getting used to it - this surely was heaven.

-

The ‘picking you up and carrying you around’ didn’t stop there, it surely grew to become one of Adam’s newest habits in fact. He had swiped you off your feet the moment you had left the house together and ever since then he had carried you bridal style as he directly headed to your favorite cafè, the people there knew you and your brunette fiancè quite well, it had been your go-to cafè for a couple thousand years after all and their were all equally surprised when Adam walked through the door with you in his arms, the stupidly proud grin on your face was telling them all they needed to know and all of them were smart enough to not question the first man’s decisions - one of them had done that once and it never happened again because of how long Adam had argued with them, based on his arguments he had lost before the discussion had even started yet he had been determined to win that argument and at some point the employees had just given up and let him have his way. It had been for the better, that you were sure about.

-

The night was warm, one of the warmest nights you remembered and the first man had decided to use that for a relaxing flight, of course he had asked you to join him and who were you to refuse? The night was literally perfect for something like that.

“Can’t keep up with me when we fucking walk, can’t keep up with me when we fucking fly,” he hummed jokingly as he came up underneath you until you were sitting on his back, seated right between his neck and his wings, his lips were stretched into a cocky grin as his hands reached for your ankles to make sure you wouldn’t fall off his back. “The fuck am I supposed to do with your slow fucking ass, carry you around for all of motherfucking eternity?” You tilted your head to the side, knowing very well he wasn’t able to see any of it as you responded, “Surely wouldn’t mind that at all.” The soft chuckle that escaped him vibrated through both of your bodies, “Bet ya fucking wouldn’t. I’m fucking Adam after all, who wouldn’t love getting carried through eternity by me?” And while that earned him a playful slap against his shoulder by you, you didn’t disagree with him because you had to admit, he did have a solid point.

[justwonder113]

Showering Felix with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: Even though you feel more than secure in your relationship with Felix you still can't help but feel possessive sometimes...

Warnings: Slightly suggestive; Reader is whipped as always; Reader is slightly jealous/possesive; Reader is feeling like a mess? Half naked Felix(that needs a whole warning as itself); Felix being himself making reader lose their mind(from love? Idk it's like 3 am brain is not braining)

word count- 1.7k

A/N- I'm alive!!! This one took me way more time than I intendet to. But I'm glad how it turned out to be. I really worked my butt over it so I really hope you'll like it. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated I'm really curious to know what you think. Thank you so much for all the support and kind comments, they mean the world to me and give me the biggest drive 🩷 I'll try to write and upload next part as soon as I can

This was too much! Like way much more than you could handle! You didn't know if you felt was extreme pride for both your boyfriend's achievements and overall amazingness and the fact that he was, in fact, yours, or the bitter feeling of jealousy, because your boyfriend basically stripped in front of thousands, no, millions of stays. There was no way in hell this clip wouldn't blow up the whole internet in minutes!

Being in a relationship with an idol sure came with a lot of challenges. You felt secure in your relationship, Felix, despite having millions of fans thirsting over him, never gave you any reason to doubt hiis love and sincerity. Sometimes the fact that Feliz had so many admirers made you feeel so much pride and boosted your confidence so much, the Lee Yongbok Felix, the man who could have literally anyone in the world, the man who had so many admirers chose you and stayed with you. The feeling was surely something else. You wondered what changed today. Was it because so many people saw him shirtless? The jealousy was gnawing you from the inside. Maybe it wasn't jealosy and rather than that you were feeling possesive. You didn't want to word this wrong, but you guessed that you considered Felix as yours, just as he percieved you as his, you were sure of it, you weren't really posessive and you would rather die than make Felix uncomfortable with an ugly feeling like that, it's just seeing that so many people saw him in different light you only had the pleasure of seeing really rubbed you the wrong way.

You kinda felt bad for feeling like this. Felix was the boyfriend one could only dream of. He only did his job as an idol and entertainer so why were you sulking like this? You knew that dating an idol was like. But for God's sake you were only human! Hearing other's thirsty comments nade yiur blood boul. Others were trying to watch the show! You also almost had a cardiac areest watching your boyfriend, but you still contained yourself (your panties were most likely(certainty) ruined)! You didn't make thirsty comments and disturbed others. Oh how you wished you could just walk up on the stage and really show them who Felix really belonged with. Oh to see the jealous looks on their faces, but no, you couldn't do it to Felix. He told you that he was ready to tell the world about your relationship countless times but you knew it could affect him as an idol a lot so you told him that you knew he loved you and appreciated the gesture but he didn't meed to do that. Also you were talking out of your butt as if you had any chance to go up on the stage with heavy security like this... You could still out your relationship! You just couldn't do it to Felix. He didn't deserve to be in scandal because your pride was hurt.

Even after hours went by the bitter feeling didn't go away, and you were afraid Felix was starting to notice your absentmindness. As you thought the internet was blown over it. Everyone kept gushing about Felix, and you felt both immence pride and bitterness.

Huffing out annoyed you got up from the bed to drink water. You were in your hotel room with Felix. Others went in their own rooms to sleep. You were waiting for Felix to finish his shower. It was quite late, but you felt nowhere near sleepy.

You took a sip from your water and almost choked to death when you saw Felix emerge from the bathroom, towel hanging low on his lips. His waist and uppeenbody glistening from the water, hair srill damp and dripping. What was in the air tonight? This boy was going to be the death of you. He had to be crafted from the God's themselves because what the heck?! Most men you knew had either decent personality or decent looks and in most cases neither, and then you had this specimen. What the hell, how? He was also next to you softly patting your back the second you started choking on water. Like man pick a struggle it's unfair to be perfect in every way.

"Are you okay angel?" Felix asked with his deadly beautiful voice after you calmed down. You had to be thankful if you survived this day, or this boy generally.

"Yeah, I'm fine." It took you a few seconds but you managed to answer. God your heart was jumping out of your ribcage. Felix looked at you for a second then shook his head.

His warm hand engulfed yours, "You've barely spoken the whole night, talk to me love, did something happen?" His thumb never stopped rubbing small circles on your hand. He always had such a calming effect on you and, usually, the second he touched you became so putty and melted like a puddle, but today it didn't seem to work. You were too on edge.

"Did I upset you with something?" Felix asked looking unsure yet remorseful, you felt guilty, too caught up with yourself you tuned out Felix, making him believe he was in the wrong. You straightened up and stood in front of him, his gaze carefully examining your every move. Normally, whenever he looked at you like that it made you shy away, but now you were feeling rather bold.

Not breaking the eye contact you got closer and closer slightly pushing him back so that in the couple of steps the back of his legs met the bed and it only took you a slight nudge to push him on the bed.

Not wasting a moment you straddled his lap. He didn't hesitate and put his hands on your waist. His thumbs slowly rubbing circles to soothe you into talking. He looked at you with wide eyes, he clearly didn't expect you to do something bold like this, but he didn't seem to mind it, quite the opposite, actually. You knew him too well to miss the mischevious glint in his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" Felix quickly nodded his head. He leaned in pushing on his elbows and met you halfway to a kiss. His lips were soft as ever, you immediately whimpered at the touch, already feeling weak in the knees. Sometimes you felt as if Felix was some type of drug. There was no way the attachment and constant longing you felt towards him was normal. Especially his kisses. If you could, you would spend eternity carresing his soft lips with yours. His soft lips gliding over yours had you feeling euphoric. Mere brush of his lips against yours made you feel alive. You wondered if he knew how much you loved him.

Felix returned the kiss with just as much love and passion you put into it if not more. Once soft and slow kiss was now hard and passionate and was igniting you from inside. You didn't even want to lean back for air despite your lungs already starting to burn. He must have realized you actually needed air to breathe so he leaned back, but he still held you close. His lips now softly carresing your neck while you regained your composure. You were sure your neck would be a sight to behold in the morning. But to put it quite frankly, you didn't give a damn.

Your eyes met, he tried to say something but you didn't let him. God, you felt awful. But you didn't know what to do, what to say. You were in an emotional turmoil. You were a mess. All you knew was that you had to show him how much you loved him, how much he meant for you.

Moving from his lips you started to litter his bautiful face. His pretty nose, his pretty eyes, his forehead. You made sure to kiss his cheeks as many times as much freckles he had. The way Felix squirmed beneath you, the way he was all flushed up and embarrassed, how he couldn't hold the eye contact and the way his red and swollen pouty lips kept mumbling that you should kiss his lips instead was driving you crazy.

After placing one last kiss right beneath his jaw, you leaned back and took the sight in. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest. How did he look ehetheral every given second?

"I love you so much, you know that, right?" You slowly muttered after a few long seconds of debating how could you force yourself to talk, or just simply what were you going to say. Felix looked at you for a second before suddenly moving you two, so thay now you were beneath him, and he was on top. The sight of him hovering above you didn't really help your situation, like at all! Because now the light was hitting him from the back just right, and the shadows made his features look more defined and sculptured, and you were not feeling good at all.

"What are you doing?" You couldn't help but ask, you couldn't tell what his blank face meant. Felix smiled and your heart melted yet again. "Showing you just how much I love you. Also, I have to pay back for all the kisses you gave me, so brace yourself love." He winked at you and you couldn't help but giggle. What a dork. You were about to make a clever remark, but he shut you up by connecting your lips once again. His one hand sliging through your hair while the other arm wrapped around your waist drawing you closer. You've never felt more safe and loved. And you felt silly for ever worrying. This man loved you just as much as you loved him.

You smiled into the kiss and just let yourself go.

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Closed Until Further Notice

Oh my god this was WAY longer than anticipated and I wasn't planning on making it like spicy, but it's been a while so I threw some at the very end ;) this is Eris x Cafe Owner ! Reader / trope, it was very cute so I hope I captured the idea well enough for the anon who requested it!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: Cursing, Smut

Eris wouldn’t say he frequented the small towns scattered throughout the Autumn Courts, nothing more than a yearly visit or two, normally just for an inspection called upon by his father. He usually came on horseback, flanked by his soldiers in their shining armor, and strolled through the town for a quick survey. He nodded politely, quick to make his way through the town without disturbing any of the residents. No matter how nice he was, how civil and respectful he was, they still cowered from him - hid in their homes and shut their shop doors when he passed through.

But there was one town, nestled just past the forest in the valley of the mountains right before the Winter Court, that Eris took his time visiting. That’s exactly what it was, in fact: a visit, not an inspection - no surveillance, no prying. He traveled there alone, winnowing to the outskirts of the village, taking his time walking down the main street. Stores and homes littered the dirt road, nearly frozen solid from the Winter wind that blew across the border; he walked along the stone sidewalk, past the brick houses and the shops built up from the redwood trees. 

At the center of the town stood the bakery, a hand painted sign that spelled it out in fine script. The chalkboard was propped open on the walkway, the specials written in swirly cursive. Eris bit the inside of his cheek to hide the smile that crawled up his lips, eyeing the Topfenstrudel you’d written no doubt early this morning - probably before he’d even woken up. You’d listed a few teas below it, fruit sauces, and spices to pair it with. 

Eris wouldn’t admit to it, but he’d patroned it more than the other little towns. It started once a year, just like everywhere else, but turned quarterly - monthly, even - after he visited your bakery. Small and tucked away, next to a butcher’s shop on one side and a bookstore on the other, your cafe was lined with tables and plush chairs, golden faelights and fresh flowers strewn across the space. 

He slipped through the door quickly, trying not to let out the heat from the small fire in the hearth beside the counter. “Good morning,” you called from the back kitchen, not visible from the doorway. “I’ll be with you in a minute!” Eris hummed in response, throwing a tiny ring of fire at the dimming flame. He noted the heat immediately, a welcome shiver down his spine at the feeling. He shook off the cold, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing a few steps around the cafe. 

He had half a mind to bring you flowers this time - though, he’d been telling himself that the past three visits. His mother had clipped some hydrangeas from her garden, had them laid out along the long table in her drawing room. He should have just swiped a few, winnowed out before she would even notice, but he thought against it, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or think he was trying something. 

Not that he wasn’t, necessarily - he should - gods, he wanted to. But the only thing you knew about him was that he was the High Lord’s son, he didn’t want to accept your advances because you felt like you had to. 

You popped around the corner, stopping in front of the counter wiping your hands on your apron. Your mouth opened and shut quickly, eyes wide at the sight of him. But he didn’t miss the blush that crawled up your cheeks, the small flustered smile when his fiery gaze met yours. “Oh - I didn’t - sorry to keep you waiting,” you said, shaking your head slightly. 

Eris smiled and relaxed his shoulders. “I wasn’t, don’t worry.” He’d counted down each minute - all forty-four thousand of them - until he saw you again. 

“You’re early,” you replied, pressing your hands against the counter, shuffling the random pile of papers before you.

He shrugged, eyes falling to the counter, watching how you moved the papers, each scrawled with a different recipe or note, and pushed them to the side. “Long day ahead - I wanted to make sure I got the strudel before you ran out.” 

The High Lord’s son typically came closer to closing, when just a few customers lingered around. Some ducked out quickly, afraid of the tall male’s presence; others stayed, tucked away in the dimly lit corners of the cafe, watching the handsome male from just over the rim of their coffee up. He usually ordered a tea - something chamomile or tisane - along with a pastry or two, and always tried the daily special. 

But you opened at six in the morning, and Eris strolled in just three minutes past. 

“Then what else can I get for you, Eris?” He almost melted on the spot - his name dripped like honey off your lips. You’d exchanged names and gotten past formalities a few months ago, when you’d started greeting him more like a friend than the High Lord’s son. 

He figured he’d never get anywhere with you if he kept lingering around the bakery before closing, when your neighbors sat watching his every move. 

“I’ll have a coffee, please.” You quirked a brow at the male, surprised at the change in order, though you supposed it was too early for a sleepy tea. 

You watched him ruffle around in his pocket for some change, the heavy gold coins shaking in his hand. He dipped his head to count the money, you watched the red locks of hair fall over his brow. You tipped your head back to look up at him, watch the fire’s shadows dance over his carved cheekbones, kissing his straight nose. 

You were able to see him clearly in the morning light; you could count the freckles across his cheeks, and oh how you longed to. He looked so different at night, when the sun was gone and the only light came from the red fire and amber faelights, as well as his glowing eyes. “And how do you take your coffee?” You watched his throat work, his eyes roam over your features. 

Eris pressed his tongue behind his teeth. “How you take yours.” 

“Milk and sugar?” You hummed, raising your brow, smiling at the male. While he savored the sweets you served him, you would have assumed he went for the more bitter taste. 

To be fair, he did. He just wanted to know how you liked yours, should he ever have the chance to make it for you himself. 

Preferentially in his bed. 

And nude. 

“Milk and sugar,” he replied with a small nod but a broad smile. 

Your eyes flitted between him and the mess on the counter in front of you - yet his red eyes never left yours, his gaze burning into you. You couldn’t help but blush, the heat emitted from his body calling to you, for you to throw yourself into him and feel his arms around you. The chill from the Winter Court was strong that morning, you’d wanted nothing more than to linger around the warm ovens all morning. But the cafe felt warmer, like it always did when he visited; you weren’t sure if it was his fire powers or just him. 

How much you wanted to touch him. 

“Coming right up.” You offered him a smile before trotting off to the kitchen, setting the grounds up over the set of mugs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Your voice carried quietly from the back kitchen, just audible above the cracking fire. Eris’s eyes swiped around the cafe, over the small tables and iron chairs, never having seen the shop empty before. But he took a seat against the window, the seats shrouded with pillows with stacks of books adorning the tabletop. Your scent lingered across the space, bright and fruity with a hint of cinnamon. 

He tried not to stare at the counter across the shop, watch and wait for you to appear in the doorway to return. Eris tried to busy himself, glancing at each of the plants hanging from baskets, the flowers that he tried to remember, the sound of his mother reciting each name in the back of his mind. 

You piled the mugs and plates on a small wooden tray and made your way back to the tiny dining area, weaving through the tables to meet him in the corner. His thick brows raised in surprise as he noticed the amount of goodies on the tray, scrambling to stand and take it from you. But you shooed him off, setting everything down between you and ushering him to sit when you took the seat across from him. 

You never thought you’d meet a member of Autumn royalty, let alone one that fretted over you carrying a small try and who stood whenever you entered the room. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said, quietly, almost unsure of how the word was supposed to sound - like it was foreign. But your pointed ears flexed, unable to miss the small sentiment, no matter how unusual it tasted on his tongue, he was trying. 

“You’re welcome, Eris,” you replied simply, handing him a mug, taking the matching one for yourself. There were a couple strudels on a plate, paired with a bowl of fruit, and some macaroons, a couple pumpkin tarts fresh from the oven on the side. 

He noticed how you pulled your strudel in half, how your shoulders shrugged slightly when you tasted it, the warm dough relaxing the cold chill that stiffened your spine. You couldn’t help but watch his hands work before you, pulling apart his pastry, just as you did, how he picked up the coffee cup loosely in those long fingers, pale knuckles and veins lining his big hands. You cradled your own mug in both hands, half needing the warmth from the side of the cup, the other half needing the grasp on reality, keeping you grounded - keeping your mind from wandering too far. 

His gaze washed over you, watching as you zoned out, staring into the space between you. “Were you here early this morning?” 

You blinked once, twice, trying to pull your eyes away from the male’s hands. “Yeah.” You huffed a laugh, sipping from the much needed coffee. “I start baking at four - got here at three though.” You eyed the pastry he’d picked up. “These were a bit more difficult than what I usually try for.”

“It’s excellent,” he said, taking a bite of the flaky pastry. “Very much worth the extra time, in my opinion.”

“I’m glad you came today.” Eris’s red eyes sparkled at your words, he felt the fire roar through his veins and crawl up his cheeks. 

Me too. He ached; wanted to find out everything about you, about your life, what you liked and what you didn’t, your family, what made you tick, what made you smile, how you tasted, how you’d look in his bed, on his lap. 

But before the male could even think of a response, the door swung open, followed by a gust of wind. Your eyes shot to the door immediately, assessing who came in, interrupting (what Eris believed to be, at least) a pleasant conversation. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Aldrich,” you greeted the old female, bundled up in her coat and wrapped in what looked like two scarves. Your eyes dropped to Eris once more as you pushed yourself from the table, sauntering off to the counter to serve her. 

But Eris decided to only wait a few moments longer, downing the rest of his coffee and finishing the treats on the table before stacking the bowls and plates. He ran his hands over the sides of his corduroy pants, unsure of whether to bring them to you in the kitchen, whether he should even go out of his way to say goodbye. He felt the Fae female staring at him, too afraid to say anything, but watching his every move. So he buttoned his jacket, preparing to leave before anyone else could come to the cafe to study him. 

He turned to the female, offering his a polite bow of his head in greeting, which she returned with a small curtsey. “Bye Eris,” you called, poking your head around the corner from the kitchen, arms working to tie a white apron around your waist. 

His eyes found yours, sparkling in the morning light that shines from the front windows. “Bye (Y/N), thanks again.” He offered you a smile before he ducked out the short front door. 

Eris felt Mrs. Aldrich’s eyes move back and forth between the two of you. 

_________________________

The next time he came by, it was still just as cold and just as early. He tried to take his time walking to the shop, but he couldn’t slow himself down - his hands itched, flexing at his sides, simmering with heat that poured out of him. The pocket watch in the front of his jacket told him he was a few minutes early, so he lingered along the cobblestones, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk. 

The lights in the cafe were on, but the specials sign was missing and the Closed sign hung across the green door. He chewed on his bottom lip, shoving his hands inside his pockets and turning on his heel. He thought maybe he should just leave, not wait around like a creep, and solicit the peaceful town. 

“Eris?” 

The male’s head lifted as he turned over his shoulder, meeting your soft smile. He lifted a hand to run through his messy red hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “Hey (Y/N), good morning,” he stumbled over his words, too focused on his racing heart - beating almost as rapidly as the first day he saw you. 

You held the door open with your foot - the tip of your brown boot covered in flour, as the hem of your skirt was - and moved to pull the chalkboard through the door. The High Lord’s son pulled it from your hands, grabbing it easily with on and moving it as though it weighed nothing. He fixed it up on the sidewalk before turning to you with a smile. “Apricot sachertorte?”

You beamed at him, proud of your newest sweet treat, and propped your hands on your hips. You almost didn’t notice the Winter Court chill seeping through your clothes. You felt the heat he emitted, centuries of fire burning through him, drawing you to him. “You like chocolate, no?”

Eris ushered you inside, noting your missing coat when his eyes drew up and down your body. The dress you wore was thin, tight. Dusted with ingredients and a messy apron. He swallowed, forced some air into his lungs, and forced himself to not stare when you led him inside. “I have a certain weakness when it comes to chocolate.” And you. 

He rolled his eyes inwardly at himself - how his father would have killed him for even making a joke about having a terminal flaw. But he’d developed enough of a friendship that he’d actually made you laugh, and it was a sound he’d say nearly anything to hear it again. 

“Perfect then, take a seat and I’ll get some coffee for us.” Eris sighed in sweet relief, thanking you for saving him from having to ask you to sit with him again. 

You were quick to return with two mugs and two plates, one exceptionally large slice of the torte accompanied by a smaller one. He was quick to help you, settling into the table across from the fireplace. You’d hummed when you sat down, relaxing into the iron chair, and the male couldn’t help but wonder if it was the first time you’d sat down all morning. You drank your coffee like it came from the Mother herself, savoring the rich taste. “This is probably the fourth cup I’ve had this morning.” 

Eris wasn’t surprised. He was in the same boat himself, actually. He hadn’t been able to sleep all last night, not with the anticipation of seeing you. He’d forced his night owl of a brother to spar with him, tire himself out wielding the heavy steel sword. He’d fussed over battle plans and boring court papers. When that didn’t work, he’d even found himself in the kitchen, attempting what was intended to be a galette. When that didn’t work out, he gave up and laid in bed for a few more hours. He was tired, sure, but couldn’t fall asleep. 

“You ought to take a day off, sleep in,” he replied, taking a bite of the layered chocolate cake. Gods, if that was the last meal he’d eat, he’d be beyond satisfied. 

You shrugged, finger tracing the rim of your cup. “I could… but I just love it too much - even if I have to wake up early for it.” Eris nodded along. “Besides, what if you came by the shop and I was closed?”

He shifted in his chair, trying to settle the burn in his chest. “You’re right - ” he tried to play it off casually. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without your pastries.” Another job well done, he cursed himself. 

You smiled sweetly, propping your elbow up on the table and resting your head against your knuckles. “So tell me, Eris. What’s on today’s agenda? I can hardly believe you came all this way just for coffee and chocolate.” 

Oh how wrong you were. He’d go to the ends of Prythian just to spend one moment with you. 

“Taking care of some errands for my father,” he began, not interested in divulging too much. You understood, and simply nodded along, taking whatever he’d be willing to give out. “I have a meeting in the Winter Court.” 

“Ah, just a stop along the way, then.” He wasn’t sure if he heard faint disappointment laced in your voice, or if it was just what he’d been hoping to hear. 

“Well - yes, but…” It was one of those rare moments where Eris didn’t know what to say. “But I wish I could come more - I don’t want to bother you. I know a lot of your customers are uneasy when I stop by - ”

You cut him off, sitting straight in your chair. “You’re not - I love when you visit, Eris.” You fought against all your instincts to reach across the table and grab his hand. 

It was his turn to blush. Maybe he was overheating, what with all the layers and sitting in front of the fire. Or perhaps it was your bright eyes staring at him, burning into him, starting straight into the depths of his soul. “I wish I could stay longer, I’d like to - ”

But that godsdamned door opened again, a group of Fae walked in, conversation abruptly stopping when they noticed the fiery-haired male sitting at the table across from you. Eris stood in one swift motion, abandoning his fork and empty plate behind him. He noticed the young female that walked in, orange hair wild around her ears, starting straight at you, wiggling her eyebrows. 

When he tossed a look over his shoulder at you, he saw your pink cheeks, chin tucked close to your chest. “Your highness,” one of the males began, bowing to Eris.

His friend smacked him in the chest, grimacing at his friend’s actions. “Shut up.”

Another female interrupted all of them, smiling broadly at Eris. “Good morning, sir,” she said sweetly, dipping slightly in greeting. 

Eris had never felt more awkward in his life. He’d been trained in court politics, to lead armies, to host High Lord meetings on behalf of his father, to speak in front of hundreds of Fae. But never to talk with teenage Fae. 

“Good morning,” he replied as politely as he could, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But he recalled his courtier training, standing tall and holding his chin high. 

He got a small confidence boost though, as the other males tilted their heads back to look up at him, and cowered a few steps backward. And although Eris was normally cocky enough to have loved to inflict that kind of response on others, it wasn’t what he should be displaying in front of a female he was trying to impress. 

“I have to be getting on my way, (Y/N),” he finished, turning back to look at you. “Thanks for the coffee.” He smirked, watching as you glared at your friend - the one whose eyes kept flitting between you and the High Lord’s son. 

Your attention was drawn back to Eris and he threw a wink your way before he left the cafe.  

_________________________

He winnowed back just after the sun had set, when the chill from the mountains was visible in each breath he took. Eris appeared right in front of your shop door, where the lights were dimmed and the sign on the door read Closed. 

Fuck, he’d cursed himself, fifteen minutes late. He’d rushed back as fast as he could, after having spent the day in the Winter Court, useless meetings with Kallias and his staff. Eris had nearly run out of the meeting room, winnowing before he’d even left the table and made it close to the door. 

But you’d spotted him, the brown wool coat and dark red hair from the window. You almost skipped to the door, something between a hop and a half-jog, making your way to the door before he’d off and disappeared again. “Eris, wait!” You’d called, unlocking the door and poking your head through. 

He smiled when he turned around, meeting you in the doorway. You held a broom in your hand, obviously close to leaving for the evening. No matter how tired you were, there was no doubt in his mind that you’d had a busy day, you still greeted him with a cheery smile. 

“I just wanted to,” he began, digging his hand through his pocket and pulling out a handful of gold coins. “For this morning.” 

You shook your head, but took his wrist in your hand, pulling him through the door. Your fingers sparked when you felt his warm skin against yours. “You visiting is quite enough - ”

Eris groaned, wishing you’d held onto him for just a little bit longer. “I don’t need special treatment.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t be nice to you anymore, Eris?”

He smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim faelight. “Are you being nice to me or being nice to my family?” 

He watched you tut, giving him an indiscreet up and down. It almost made him nervous. “Just you.” And Eris smiled at that, his own selfishness getting the best of him, but glad you had invited him in. “I like when you visit. You don’t do it enough.” 

You’d set the broom against the table, hands clasped in front of you trying your damnedest not to look like a giddy child in a candy shop. Eris glowed, watching your movements, daring to see how much else you’d reveal to him. 

Eris was too busy staring at you, committing every feature of yours to memory, to respond. “How about some tea?” You asked, already making your way to the kitchen. 

“Please,” he nearly sighed, and no matter how happy and excited he was to be back at your bakery, he was still beat from a day of Winter Court bullshit. 

You disappeared only momentarily, returning just after you’d set the kettle over the stovetop, with two mugs in hand. You set them on the table by the window, the seats both cushioned with freshly fluffed pillows. Eris joined you, eyeing the loose tea leaves at the bottom of the cups, a mixture of chamomile flowers, linden leaves, and peppermint. 

He smiled gratefully, seeing your body relax once you’d slid into the chair across from him. “You like it here?” Eris couldn’t help but ask. You seemed to work yourself into exhaustion, rising before the sun, staying past dusk, holed away in the quaint cafe. It was a small town, too far from the other Autumn villages to easily visit - though, he supposed there would be plenty of adventure in the woods beyond and the mountains between Winter. That ought to be dangerous, especially given the fact that if Beron found out about his subjects crossing the border, he’d outright banish or kill them. 

You smiled back at the High Lord’s son, him looking equally as tired as you must have. Light purple lined the tops of his cheekbones, starkly contrasting his otherwise luminous pale skin. His brows were taught, pulled together as if really contemplating your answer - or perhaps overthinking his question. He’d forgotten his coat on the back of his chair, a dark blazer underneath. His eyes glowed, his red irises burning brighter as the light from the windows faded.

“I do,” you hummed, content with your little date. 

But the screeching of the kettle interrupted you, and right as you placed your hands on the table to push yourself up, Eris stopped you. “Let me, please.” Before you could even respond, he was already on his feet, rushing off into the back kitchen to pull the kettle off.

He returned with the kettle in one hand and a bottle of honey in the other. He poured your cup first and then his, setting the hot water to the side. Surely, should you let him stay long enough, it would be easy enough for him to reheat later. 

“You were saying?” He continued, eyes locked on the mug before him, dropping in a swirl of honey to his tea. 

You bit your lip, pushing your mug closer to him. His eyes flitted up to you once before he repeated the action. “I like it here. It’s small - I know all of my customers by now. All of their names, their orders, it’s like a little family.” 

Eris nodded along, leaning back in his chair. “No problems with the Winter Court?” 

You rolled your eyes. I have more problems with the current court, if we were being honest. “It’s cold,” you replied. “It’s quiet. But far away enough that we aren’t…” You bit your tongue. “Not that there’s anything wrong with - ”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Eris replied, not shocked with your response. “I understand.”

Just like any other Fae on the continent, he reminded himself: scared of his father. He wasn’t surprised, this would be the perfect town to escape Beron’s tight holds. It wasn’t close enough that he kept it under his nose, monitoring the town and the villagers. It wasn’t particularly useful to him - no major crops or orchards, maybe lumber from the redwoods, but there were far closer regions he could busy himself with. 

But he saw how quickly your brows raised and cheeks turned red at your comment. It was almost as if you’d forgotten he was the High Lord’s son up until that moment. 

Eris was ashamed to carry the Vanserra name. 

He finished off his tea, suddenly uncomfortable with keeping you so late. Maybe the reason you were so nice to him was because of who his father was. You were hosting him out of formality, not friendship or desire - you were probably afraid he’d go running back to the Forest House with your name at the top of his list. 

You reached a hand out to him, watching his lips turn into a frown and his brows narrow as he lost himself in thought. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If there is anyone who gets it, (Y/N), believe me - I do.” He took a long sip from the mug in his hand, set it down silently, and pushed himself from the seat. His hands fumbled over his coat, swinging it over his shoulders and fastening it shut. “I don’t want to keep you any longer - I’ve intruded quite enough.” He turned to the door, to avoid watching you awkwardly scramble to your feet. The sky was dark, the only light along the street was the glow from the faelights in the windows of the houses along the way. He turned back on his heel to face you, staring up at him, bewildered. “Can I at least walk you home?”

You pressed your lips together, clasping your hands in front of you. “I live upstairs, actually.”

“Ah.” It was all that came from him, which left the male cursing himself once more. Fucking idiot. “Well thank you again, (Y/N).” Back to formalities, back to square one. 

You nodded once more, watching as he turned to the door. As he reached for the handle, you stopped him, grabbing his other hand. His skin was burning hot and sent sparks into you. “You’re welcome anytime here, Eris.” You waited until he turned around, fully acknowledging your words. “And not just because of who your father is.” 

Eris nodded, albeit a bit numbly, as you sent his mind reeling the moment he felt your fingers grasp his. Should I do it?

He wanted to kiss you so badly. So badly that his fingers itched to grab you and pull you against him. You batted your eyelashes at him, all innocent as if you had no idea what you were doing. Maybe you weren’t doing anything - no signals, no invitation to kiss you, love you, fuck you. 

It was all in his head, it had to be. 

He couldn’t compromise your innocence, not when he’d already been seen alone in the cafe with you twice in one day. He could only imagine what the other Fae were thinking, how he’d either besmirched your reputation or created a scandal in the small town. 

“Then I’ll be sure to return more often.” With that, he gave your fingers a squeeze and turned - forcing every fiber of his being not to take you with him. 

_________________________

Eris couldn’t sleep again. Gods, he felt ill. 

He was clammy all over - absolutely disgusting. He’d forced himself from bed and into the bath, letting the cold water wash over him and take away whatever it was he was feeling. His heart was racing out of his chest, his breathing was jagged - it was unlike any other fever he’d had. 

And then he felt it, laying in the cold water of the porcelain tub. It felt like a rubber band snapped against his ribcage. It winded him, had him lurching forward and clutching his chest. He figured the copper taste in his mouth was a figment of his imagination, being no stranger to the taste of blood. Maybe he bit his tongue when he felt the snap, it had his heart lurching upwards into his scarred throat. 

Eris’s fingers gripped the edge of the cold bathtub - he felt the water turning hotter by the second. He couldn’t control the heat that emitted from his body, the simmering flames smothered in his palms. 

That was it.

That was it. 

He wasn’t dying - not if you could call being utterly grossly in love dying. 

His heart hammered in his chest and the fire roared through his veins. It felt like he was suffocating, sure, but it felt good. His hands were shaking, and he knew the only cure would be to have you in them. You were the one who could teach him how to breathe again.

He huffed a long shaky breath, leaning back in the tub until his back touched the now warm ceramic. Curls of steam began to dance on the surface of the water that seemed to be rippling in time with his heartbeat. 

Eris shut his eyes, trying his damndest to clear his head, to calm the fuck down. But all he saw was you, the flour that dusted your cheek, the apron wrapped so tight around your waist he wished it were his hands. He thought of your cheeks, rosy and red from the ovens, your plump lips sipping on tea, how sweet you looked drinking your milky coffee. Then he remembered the shape of your brow, how it quirked downwards when you’d mentioned his father, how you gnawed on that bottom lip of yours when he’d been in such a rush to leave. 

But it didn’t matter what you thought of his father, of the whole damned Autumn Court itself. He’d get on his knees before you to beg, plead for you to understand - it’s not his fault, it’s not him. 

So that’s what he set off to do. 

He pushed himself from the near boiling water, haphazardly drying himself off as he skitted to the wardrobe. He flung it open, opting for a casual pair of brown trousers and a white linen shirt. He ought to be prepared to do a lot of begging, spending the whole morning on his knees begging for you to accept him as a mate, begging for a taste. 

_________________________

It was only seven hours since you’d seen Eris, the whole time you’d spent thinking of him and replaying your latest conversation. It was very much the same after each time you’d seen him, spending the evening tossing and turning, picturing his red hair and soft smile, the freckles over his cheeks and that little scar under his eye. You imagined what it would be like to hold him in your arms, laying on top of you, suffocating you in the best way; you pictured what it’d be like for him to hold you, laying behind you, arms wrapped fully around you, holding you against his chest. 

But you laid in bed alone, staring at the clock until the golden hands ticked to three o’clock. 

You pushed the covers from yourself, shivering at the cold that swept through your bones. You’d gotten better at fighting that fight, the urge to stay in bed and revel in your warmth instead of forcing yourself downstairs at such an early hour. The warm ovens called to you, but you’d have to overcome the chill of the nearly Winter air and the cold hardwood floor. 

You wondered if it would be warmer with Eris there. As if the male just naturally heated every room he walked into - 

No. 

You shook your head, trying to rid the thoughts of the Autumn heir from your mind. You’d only distract yourself. You knew the visit yesterday would have to last you for the rest of the month. You could only begin to count down the days until you anticipated his return. 

So instead, you shuffled down the stairs, pulling open your recipe book and setting out a few bowls. You hadn’t decided the day before what you were making yet - not like you usually did. Your mind had been much too occupied. You settled on figuring it out later, just starting with something simple and figuring out a custard later. With flour dusting the counter, you rolled out some dough, working it until it was so thin that it was almost transparent. A simple croissant surely would do, you’d thought. Maybe you could use up some of the pumpkin or raspberries…

You’d gone rifling around for inspiration when you felt a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the cold of the early morning, nor the chill from the produce cooler. No - it was the hard knock on the door, rattling the closed sign against the wooden frame. 

You bit your lip, debating wiping out all the Faelights - that no doubt alerted whoever was outside that you were in. But you had no choice, as the knock sounded again, softer this time, but still enough to prove your visitor’s determination to talk to you. 

Not once in your centuries of owning the cafe had you had a morning visitor. Nobody had ever shown up before opening, especially not at three in the godsdamned morning.

All you could do was grab your stone rolling pin from the counter, holding it between your two shaky hands as you trotted quietly to the door. But as you stepped around the counter and wove through the tables, you’d spotten a tuft of red hair through the window. 

Red hair, pale skin, long coat, the smell of firewood and burnt sage. 

Your heart stuttered, pure shock replaced with utter bewilderment. Your throat tightened, nervous as to what he may be visiting for - what you may have said that offended him. Then you sighed, dropping your head to stare at the thick cotton dress you wore, the wool sock on your feet. Fuck, you huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. The Mother could not have prepared you less. 

All you could do was pull the door open, holding the rolling pin behind your back. 

And when the door swung open, the cold coming in immediately, Eris’s eyes were blown wide. The red around his dilated pupils glowing against the dark of night. Gods you were so fucking beautiful. His gaze roamed over your messy hair, the loose dress that hung over your shoulders, the cozy looking socks on your feet. 

“Hey,” he said, quieter than intended. He cleared his throat, stepping closer, arms tightly pressed behind his back. “Sorry to - interrupt.” He couldn’t stop - his eyes were roaming, frantically moving between yours, trying not to wander over your body, his mind was reeling, heart was pounding out of his chest. His cheeks were flushed, breathing ragged - the bond was fucking with him. Absolutely fucking with him - he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stand in front of you much longer without having to get his hands on you. “I regretted leaving so abruptly last night. I stayed late and should have at least helped you clean up.”

You smiled. He was so serious. Those red eyebrows were raised, mouth parted, almost frowning at the corners - so distraught. “Don’t make a fuss about it - I just like your company.” I miss when you’re not here. I miss your visits. 

I missed you. 

The corner of his mouth turned up, gaze softening at your apparent forgiveness. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. He moved his arm from behind his back, holding up a bundle of blue-ish hydrangeas - the flowers he hadn’t stopped thinking about bringing you. 

It wasn’t inconspicuous, like he hoped it would be. His mother caught on immediately, asking him why he kept inquiring about her flowers, what she’d pulled from the garden. Who are you bringing them for? He’d rolled his eyes at her, scoffing. I’m not bringing them to anyone, mother. I can’t show interest in the garden? So he’d been deterred from bringing them. He didn’t want to draw attention to it - to you - especially not from his father or courtiers. 

Until that night - until he had the perfect opportunity, when everyone was asleep, to snatch them from the table and winnow straight to you.

Your eyes fell to the bunch of flowers, jaw dropped, unable to speak. What did you say? What does one say to the High Lord’s son who brings you flowers. He brought you flowers. You simply couldn’t find the words. But when you looked back up at him, having to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze, he looked so scared - unsure if you’d accept them, as if he’d made some horrible mistake. 

And you couldn’t help but laugh, having to bite your lip to stop yourself. You didn’t take the flowers, you took his hand, that warm, blazing hot hand, and pulled him inside. “Well, no point in letting all the heat out.” And as if on cure, he lit up, warmth erupting from him, his chest radiating heat into your hand and arm. “Thank you, Eris, I… don’t even know what to say.” You pulled your fingers away from his, taking the bunch of flowers in your free hand.

But you had to place the rolling pin down, having to set it on the table closest to the door. His brows rose. “Preparing for battle, I see.” He surveyed the white stone, nodding his head in approval when he heard the clang of the marble against the iron table. 

You huffed a breathy laugh, ushering him inside and placing them in one of the empty vases from the bookshelf in the corner. You’d set it up on the counter, where everyone would be able to see the beautiful flowers Eris had brought for you. “I was hoping,” he began from behind you, hands shoved into his pants pockets, boot kicking at the thick grout between the stones on the floor. “You might let me help you this morning.”

You turned on your heel, spinning around so fast that you’d nearly startled the normally steadfast male. “You want to help me?”

He nodded. “I’m not very useful - I wouldn’t say I’m the best baker.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I used to help my mother bake apple pie but - ” he finished with a shrug, laughing through his own awkwardness. 

You couldn’t stop your smile. “Of course you can, Eris.” 

And truth be told, the male wasn’t bad. He’d kneaded the dough, he’d prepared the raspberry filling, and even mixed some fresh whipped cream. He’d followed all your instructions and even prepared you a cup of tea in the meantime, while you worked on your own dough at the opposite side of the counter. 

You’d spent far too long watching his hands knead the soft pastry, his long fingers and large knuckles flexing as he pushed the dough around. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt, forearms working with each move. You couldn’t help but notice the few missed buttons at the top of his shirt, pale collar bones peeking out. You’d made out some ridges over his skin, down his neck and tucked away underneath the fabric of his shirt. You couldn’t get a good look at it, not with the dimmed lights and loose shirt. 

He made light conversation, asking about the town, who your favorite patrons were. You’d asked him similar questions, how he likes fencing and polo, he’d indulged you in some childhood stories of wrestling his brothers in the Autumn rain - how they’d tracked mud through the entirety of the Forest House. When it came to his parents, though, the topic was off limits, as he’d scoffed and asked about your parents instead. 

By then, the hours had easily slipped past you - the pastries cooling after their bout in the ovens. Eris leaned against the counter, watching as you sliced the baked pumpkin you held in front of you, scooping the soft contents into a bowl to begin your filling mixture. 

His eyes watched your hands work, unable to meet your eyes, afraid of your response. “I have a confession.” 

You looked up only momentarily, not a stutter in the whisk as you continued mixing. “Confess away,” you replied softly, heart suddenly lurching into your chest. 

He swallowed thickly, but raised his gaze to your face - your focused look - as you stared back down at the bowl. “I - last night after I left - there was a…” He trailed off, sucking in a deep breath. “I felt the…” Eris’s throat was closing. His heart was beating so fast, so hard, that he thought it would break all of his ribs. “I believe we’re mates, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly all air evaded you and your heart seemed to stop. Mates? Mates? Gods, you knew you liked Eris - who wouldn’t? The male was beautiful and tall and kind and -

You swallowed hard. To hide your shaking hands, you continued working on the pastries. You kept you eyes sole trained on the table in front of you, fearful that if you looked up, if you saw those red eyes before you, that you’d surely crumble away in a fit of tears, laughter - you weren’t quite sure.

You were elated.

So fucking elated, in fact, that you didn’t know what to do.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t make a move - not an eyebrow raise, not a quirk of your lips, nothing. “I know we don’t really know each other - I’ve wanted to stay longer, believe me.” The male rambled on, filling the silence you’d offered. “I just felt this thing last night after I left and it’s been eating me away since and I already knew that I cared for you so much and you’re so - fuck, so godsdamned beautiful but I - ”

You straightened, pulling your shoulders back and dropping the whisk. “It’s okay, Eris.”

His eyes widened. “It’s okay?” What the fuck did that mean?

You’d turned to grab a pastry off the rack - the one you’d kneaded, the one that turned out so much flakier and taller than his. “It’s okay.” You smiled, though, but didn’t falter in your movements, continuing to assemble what looked like a dessert sandwich. 

He stared incredulously at you. “Did you… hear what I said?” 

And so you laughed, a light giggle that had Eris reeling. You pushed over the pumpkin Mille-Feuille, nodding at him as he stared at it like it was otherworldly. “You told me one time you liked the pumpkin turnovers because it was your favorite Autumn Court fruit.”

The male was bug-eyed. “This is for me?”

You nodded.

“Just for me?”

Again, with a smile, you nodded. 

Eris looked between you and the fluffy pastry. “For me?” He raised a hand and gestured between the two of you. 

“Yes, Eris. I made you a pumpkin pastry. For you.” His cheeks tinged pink, but let out a breathy sigh of relief. You added for clarification: “Not on the menu.”

Gods, yes. It was the only thought running through his mind. 

“And even in all that rambling, you haven’t asked me to be your mate,” you continued, voice raised an octave, teasing the poor nervous male. He opened his mouth to interrupt - to ask - but you cut him off. “I would love to be, Eris Vanserra.”

And while his heart rate didn’t slow down, he calmed, shoulders relaxed and eyes shut in relaxation. His hands fell to the treat before him, staring at the perfect little pastry. He could finally breathe again - as if in the past three minutes he’d been stilled, lungs, hands, and mind unable to work properly. 

But Eris dug in anyway, picking up the soft treat like it was the most delicate thing in the world. He took a big bite, holding his free hand underneath, catching all the flakes that broke off, saving every bite. He chewed slowly, licking his lips to savor the pumpkin flavor and the light pastry. His eyes fell to yours, wide and wanting, watching you like a hawk.

You didn’t dare move, frozen in place as the male ate. 

As the bond solidified.

As he became your mate.

By the time he’d finished, his breathing was ragged and he had to press his hands against the counter to keep his balance. You watched his chest rise and fall, the linen shirt loose on his frame but hugged his broad shoulders. Those red eyes burned into yours, as though waiting for you to make the first move. 

Or waiting for your permission. 

So you took a step backward, pushing yourself from where you’d been nearly clinging onto the counter, where it was holding you upright. And as soon as you’d freed yourself from the confines of the countertop, he’d pounced. Eris felt like leaping across the counter and pulling you into his arms. Instead, which might have cost his last ounce of decency, he’d taken the few long strides towards you and grabbed you. 

To be fair, he was as tender as he could have been, what with his heart beating up into his throat and his lungs burning, winding his arms around your back, fingers gripping the cotton that hung loose on your frame. His head dipped, immediately catching your lips with his. You were quick to follow his lead, throwing your arms around his neck and rising on your tiptoes to meet him. 

Gods, he was warm - it was all that you could think of. His heat spread into you, the physical heat, but also those internal flames, the warmth that formed in the center of your chest as the bond built itself between the two of you. Sparks sizzled between you, and you were sure you felt them when your lips met in a fiery kiss. 

Your fingers threaded through your hair as his hands roamed your back. He tasted like cinnamon, like the pumpkin from your mating food, the burnt sage that mirrored in his scent, that filled the cafe as soon as he walked through the door. 

“I don’t know anything about you,” you breathed, a soft sigh against his lips as his mouth skimmed your bottom lip, over your chin, down across your jaw. 

He released something half crossed between a moan and a sigh. “We have time to talk about me,” he whispered against your ear, biting at your soft flesh. “Later.” His lips ran over your cheek again, and he left a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Much, much later.” 

You hummed in response, pressing yourself to his front again, chest, stomachs, legs - all of it. Eris groaned, sinking down on his knees, stopping when he was eye level with you. His red irises burned with an eternal flame, burned into you with the promise of forever. He wrapped his arms fully around your waist, his elbows at your ribs and knees on either side of your legs. He tilted his head forward, only until your lips met, noses brushing against each other. 

Your lips parted on instinct alone, the breath pulled from your lungs when his lips met yours - so soft, barely meeting at all. You could have cried, screamed, grabbed his hair and pulled him further against you. But all he gave you was a touch, so close your eyelashes nearly tangled. His mouth brushed yours again and you snapped - arms linked around him still, pulling him against you. “Upstairs?” You asked, fully against his mouth, the word muffled between your lips and heavy breaths. 

He shook his head, still not breaking the kiss. His hands ran down the small of your back and over your ass, cupping the back of your thighs and pulling you upwards, setting you on the counter in front of him. Eris let his fingers find the hem of your nightgown, trailing over the skin of your bare flesh. You were burning hot, like you ran a fever at his touch. In the cold air, his touch sent shivers down your spine. 

“I can’t wait, (Y/N).” His lips barely left yours. “I have to have you now.”

“Then get on with it,” you mewled, taking his hands in yours and dragging them up your thighs, under the gown. “I’ve been waiting far too long for this, Eris.” 

You leveled his gaze - it struck quite the nerve with him, he never thought he’d succumb to an ethereal being like you, especially not to one he got to call his mate. 

As his hands roamed under your gown, your own explored his chest, running over the lean muscle and pulling at the buttons. You’d pulled them apart one by one, eyes shut and mouth being devoured by Eris. He seemed to pay no mind, working his way to your hips, squeezing at your thighs. You opened the shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, breaking away from him momentarily. 

And Eris felt it, felt it through the fresh bond between you. He felt your heart stutter, felt the shock that flooded your system. 

His heart stopped, lungs held his air hostage. 

And then you’d felt it - the utter disgust and shame that rang through him.

So you raised your hands, holding his jaw in your palms, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone - over the other faint scar that laced his skin. You weren’t sure what to say - if you should say anything at all. But he’d already noticed your surprise. That’s all it was - surprise, not in the hardened male before you, but at that any one male could endure that much pure trauma. You were not disgusted with your mate, not horrified at the scaring.

You we’re just… “What happened to you, my love?”

And he blinked a few times, turning his head in your hands and raising his own hands, holding your wrists in his palms. His throat worked, his mind rolling over the proper response. You moved your hands, dropping them down his cheeks, fingertips grazing the marred skin on his neck, the slashes over his collarbones and down the puckered skin of his chest. His hands remained on yours the whole time, feeling you work your way down his body. 

My love. It made the fire inside of him burn brighter. He imagined you’d felt it too, felt the initial draw toward him like he did to you - even before you were mates. 

“That’s a story for another time.” He whispered, gazing down at you from under his eyelashes. “If you’ll still have me.”

You were almost shocked to hear that - to hear him question your desire to be with him just based on his scars. You wouldn’t expect such doubt from him. So all you could do was sit up a little taller, pull you down to your lips and offer him the most reassuring kiss of his life. 

He made quick work of your dress, unbuttoning the small row of buttons behind your back. You shimmied the dress from under you, where you’d been sitting on the soft fabric, and let Eris bunch it up and drag it up over your sides and arms. He slid it off quickly, discarding it in a pile along with his shirt. His eyes and hands roamed over you, exploring the curves and ridges of your body. 

Your cheeks reddened, so exposed before the male you’d barely known, but longed for him to touch you. You’d thought of this moment many times, during those sleepless nights, some of which ended up leaving you with your hand between your legs. 

Eris felt your blush through the bond, he felt your outright attraction, the desperation you had. And he knew he mirrored it through the bond, too. It’s what made you pull him back into you, until he stepped right up against the counter and the front of those trousers were pressed against your undergarment. He ground against you, unable to hold in the urge as the ferocity flooded his veins, the bond finally taking hold of him now that he had you laid out in front of him. 

You moaned at the feeling, his hardened cock a tent in his pants, slotting perfectly between your lips. He moved up and down, gliding against the warm heat from your pussy, the smooth fabrics only aiding in his desperation - your too. Gods, you could have come from that alone should he only have kept going. 

But the male wasn’t having it. He kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his pants, shucking both along your kitchen floor, discarded for what he hoped would be the next few days. 

Eris’s cock bounced up against his stomach as he neared you, the precum gathered on the tip mixing into the fine pale hairs that trickled down his bellybutton to the base of his cock. Eris wouldn’t even touch himself, deciding it would be fucking ethereal, should you reach out and grab him. 

And, luckily, you did, holding your hand out for him to step back into position. Your hand wrapped around his dick, fully hard and standing proud. You’d surely need two hands to work him properly, perhaps even your mouth, too. His skin was warm in your palm, hot and ready to combust as you ran your hand up and down, offering him a small squeeze as you neared the base, your thumb rubbing the tip when it slid up.

You couldn’t hold out much longer, either. You’d pressed him up right against your pussy as he just did, leaning back on your other elbow so you could further spread your hips. You held his cock with your other hand still, pressing it into your pussy. Eris began to rock, back and forth, back and forth, wincing at how wet your pussy sounded. His cock glided along your cunt effortlessly.

He braced a hand on the counter, on either side of you, and held his hips back. He let you continue to rub his dick as he leaned in close for a chaste kiss. He rubbed his nose against your ear, hot air stirring around you. “Are you going to let me fuck you, my love?” 

You moaned - you’d heard many tales of the trickster male’s wicked tongue, but hadn’t been granted the opportunity to hear him use it around you. You were very much looking forward to exploring that side of him. 

Gone was the chamomile drinking, flower giving High Lord’s son. This was Eris, hot and heady and ready.

His one hand moved over to hold yours, moving your fingers to grab his cock and angle it into you. You gasped as the head nudged your folds, pushing only the tiniest bit in. You clenched around nothing, as he rocked back and forth, the head moving against your entrance but not in. “Will you let me mate you? Fill you up? Claim you?”

“Gods, yes,” you moaned, trying to move off the counter even closer to him, to inch his dick farther into you. “Please, Eris. My mate - ” 

You were cut off with a harsh gasp, Eris sunk halfway in as you rambled on. “Oh my gods - please.” 

He moved slowly, warming you up to his length. “Still so much more for you,” he murmured, holding your hand against your lower stomach. He pressed it softly into you, around your soft flesh, so you could feel him enter in you as he pushed his cock all the way, bottoming out.

He held there for a moment, reveling in how you squeezed your walls around him. It was unlike anything he felt before. The roaring in his chest from the bond fed straight into his cock - willing him to drive into you over and over and over. 

But as much as he wanted to hold himself back, he found himself moving faster and faster, hitting farther inside of you with each stroke. Your moans spurred him on - your gasps, your prayers to the Mother - to him. 

Your hands fell around you, gripping anything you could find, looking to anchor yourself on something, anything. 

“You feel so good, (Y/N).” He huffed, breathing becoming ragged as he fucked into you. “I can’t believe I’ve waited this long for you.”

His cock stretched you, the familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach already causing you to clench around him. “You have me, Eris, fuck.” He grabbed your hips, holding you still, driving into you harder. “Please, more, Eris.” 

So he rutted into you, Eris hooked his knee onto the counter, pushing himself up, joining you on the floury surface. Your arms splayed out, knocking over bowls and eggs, ingredients falling to the floor and clinging to your sweaty skin. He hooked his knees around either side of your hips, positioning himself directly above you, driving straight down into your wet pussy. 

He groaned - an estranged deep noise coming from the male’s throat. His one hand was positioned beside your head, holding himself above you - though, you wouldn’t care if that male suffocated you, if he laid all the weight he’d been holding all his life onto you - the other came to cradle your cheek, holding your jaw with his thumb brushed against your chin. Your breathing mixed with Eris’s, your shared air, heat, love. You sighed, feeling his cock drive deep into you, hit the deep spot inside of you - he stretched you, seeped into you, molded into you. 

He fucked you so hard that you felt yourself moving, inching closer to the edge of the counter. Your hair fell first, starting to fall over your shoulders and off the counter. But Eris held your head, cradled you as you neared the edge, feeling your stomach coil at the rhythmic pounding in your pussy. 

Eris didn’t stop until you came, until your fingernails dug into his biceps and you screamed his name. He followed behind you quickly, his hips snapping into yours until he painted you white, with his cum that marked the bond. He claimed you as his, and silently thanked the Mother for her blessing. 

His bright eyes washed over you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, lips swollen and bruised from his kisses, crying out for him. He watched how our brows knitted together, your skin was flushed with a pink blush. He committed everything to memory, the heave of your chest, the sweat across your collarbone, your throat working to gasp air. 

He pulled out of you, dastardly watching the mix of both of your cum slide out of your pussy. He longed to feel it, to drag his finger up your sweet cunt, to lick it up. He knelt above you, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing your hips, pulling you centered on the tabletop. You huffed a sigh, arms limp and covered in flour at your sides. 

His warm fingers caressed your hips, your thighs, the muscles burning from being spread so wide. You dragged a hand over his arm, up his shoulder until you met the back of his neck. Your fingers brushed through the back of his red curls. “We made quite the mess.” You were tired, sounded so breathless - it nearly made Eris’s knees wobble. 

He laughed, though, a hearty chuckle, quite proud of his creation. He surveyed the messy kitchen, in no shape to bake, to serve anything made from or around the mess that had become evidence of your mating bond. But after pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, the male was off, walked those long legs to the counter and scribbled down a note on a piece of scrap paper beside your recipe book. 

Even his handwriting was beautiful. “Closed until further notice.” 

He rushed back to you, scooping you in his arms, holding you tightly against him, even as you broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Now you can show me this upstairs I’ve heard so much about.” And you knew right then that you’d be riding the high of your mating frenzy until Eris had learned every inch of you.

[mysticficti0n]

hi bb, could you do a sad/fluff between 2023tom and his old school crush please but make it happy at the end? (but he's not with Heidi, just him and Bill are doing something like met gala or red carpet)

I know I haven't really given a great explication but you can write fucking amazingly so I don't think you'll struggle

love ya

okay this is such a cute idea! literally in love so ofc I'll do it!

(all my attention will be back soon but I'm taking time to do some request as I have so many and all you guys have such good ideas!)

∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　

Meant to meet again...

warnings- none

words- 1.2k

(also I am so so so so sorry Gustav and Georg aren't in this I couldn't think how to incorporate them but they're mentioned!)

Y/n stood on the carpet watching actors, actresses, models, musicians be snapped thousands of times, she'd interviewed over 20 people by this point but just kept getting the same old boring replies "oh were so lucky to be here" and the fake laughs, it's what you get being a interviewer- fakes

the sea of photographers seemed to switch direction, facing down to the entrance, Y/n walked forward from her place peering down the carpet and two tall, shaggy haired men stood there but she couldn't figure out who it was "BILL BILL! THIS WAY- TOM TURN THIS WAY TOM" it clicked- Bill and Tom Kaulitz. she'd forgotten about the twins from when they left school, she knew the twins so well back then, best friends really, sharing lessons together and always laughing and skipping lessons they didn't like, hiding in cupboards when teachers called their names down the halls

Y/n straightened her dress while seeing the twins climb the stairs and she couldn't help but get a giddy feeling as they walked towards her, they both looked so different to how she remembered- Bill had black spiky hair and Tom had dreads that he'd constantly mess with when he was bored in class "Hi!" Bill started coming into shot of the camera so that her team could start filming

"hey! How are you two?" she asked grabbing the pair microphones

"good good, you?" Tom had a look across his face the girl couldn't really understand but she smiled to him none the less

"very well- enjoying the night and speaking to everyone! so if you wouldn't mind I'll introduce you and ask only a few questions then let you go because I don't doubt theirs about 100 more people who'll want you after me!" she laughed to the two now men, not boys she used to know

"I've herd that a few times" Tom joked getting a shove from his brother "what! it was funny"

"okay ready to start?" she asked turning back to the two who nodded "okay- roll... Good evening everyone, I'm Y/n Y/l/n from CBQ News and tonight I'm here with Bill and Tom Kaulitz, how are you-"

"Oh my god! I knew it was you!" Tom had wide eyes and mouth agape looking to the girl, he knew he recognised her, her eyes, her nose, her smile, her everything he knew he knew it from somewhere

"holy sh- Y/n!" Bill covered his mouth as the girl laughed nodding "you look beautiful oh- I'm sorry were ruining the interview but we haven't seen you in like nearly 20 years!" he spoke to the camera then looking back to the girl

"I know you left school when I think- yeah I was 15 and you two had just turned 16" they nodded still staring at her, Tom couldn't help but remember what he thought of her all those years ago- Y/n was his school crush from when they were 7 to 17 years old, yes 17- though he never saw her when they left he still thought about her all the time and looked back on the picture the two took the day they we're leaving, she was smiling with her arms around his neck, hugging him. Sometimes he missed school- not the bullying or the stares but the times in class were they'd just burst out laughing until they felt sick "so- back onto the interview" she laughed "who're you two wearing tonight?"

the boys gave their answers, making remarks and laughing as they all watched someone fall up the stairs but Tom still couldn't get over Y/n, she looked even more gorgeous, her hair perfectly fitted to her face, her dress looked so good on her though it had been so long- his feeling were trickling back in "can I say, you look great Y/n- not even great, amazing tonight" a blush painted her face and Bill looked toward his brother, the memories came back of the nights him and Tom would be sat talking about if he was going to finally ask out Y/n but every year he made an excuse, he was planning on asking her to prom but they left before it happened and she ended up going alone, thats what Tom's friends said anways-but god does he wish he just took the plunge

"aw thank you! you two the first to actually say something about me tonight" a smile came across her face

"we'll they're arseholes, you're one of the best dressed here!" Bill laughed

"god you two stop its giving me an ego!, anyways thank you so much for this- its great seeing you again after so long" she and Bill met in a hug, he'd missed these, giving her a kiss on her cheek before Tom pulled her away into his arms, her hands went around his neck, his head resting on her shoulder and hers lay in his chest- just like the photo "thank you- its been amazing seeing you" she spoke to Tom quiet enough for the mic's not to pick it up, pulling away from the hug they still kept their arms on each other. Bill knew that Tom was probably going to be talking about this hug for the next week but he didn't mind- he knew what It meant to him

"I've missed you Y/n..." she nodded trying to hold the tears back, she didn't realise how nice it felt to be with them again and just being in their arms- especially Toms- would make her so emotional

"me too..." she breathed

"god you're going to make me cry- stop Y/n" Bill chuckled blinking up trying to discard the tears, Tom still stood with the girl unable to pull from her

"okay- hm, well you two- I hope you have an amazing night and maybe I'll see you in another 20 years?" the three laughed, but Tom wasn't about to wait another 20 years to see her again, he couldn't

"hope so!"

"aaannnd cut-" the camera man called and the three breathed, she took the mics back and thanked the pair again, when other interviewers realised that they'd finished Bill and Tom's name bounced around again

"have a good night guys, I wont hold you up anymore" she sadly grinned rubbing Bills shoulder feeling a weird pain in her chest- like she was saying good bye again

"ugh I'd much rather stay with you but, we both know what these things are like" Bill gave her one last hug, squeezing her tightly and saying thanks once more before he was dragged by someone she didn't even see but he was gone and only her and Tom stood there

"guess I need to say bye to you too hm?" the two shared a laugh

"yeah.. yeah" Tom couldn't let his nervousness get the best of him this time, he knew if he didn't say anything he'd regret if for how many more years went by before he saw her again "I- I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna grab drinks one of the nights? or even tonight if you can do you want to sit with us- Gustav and Georg will be at the after party thing- it's fine if not of course I'm guessing you've already got a table with some people and-" the guitarist rambled on making the girl infront of him giggle

"I'd love to go get drinks with you Tom- and also sit with you all tonight" he felt like he had gone back to being 16 for a second as the words left her mouth "so I'll meet you by the doors at say, 9?"

"Yeah 9 works, okay!- I better go so" he hugged her again pressing a kiss to the top of her head "bye!" she waved to the man who was smiling so widely it hurt

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 4!!

Someone mentioned a play on Divine Intervention, and I thought that would make for a short, sweet, tag-able title. So here it is - Fanatic Intervention!

This poll came really close. Gosh. Please share this around. I want anyone who would like a chance to play to have the chance to play. This isn't about followers or activity, this is about letting people know they are welcome and invited :)

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The Metatron walked calmly through the halls of Heaven. Anyone who didn’t know any better would use a word more like “stalked” or “stomped.” Of course, no one in Heaven would ever use these words to describe the Metatron, even if his eyes were angry and his feet fell firmer than usual. No, the Metatron was the Voice of God – he merely walked with purpose, grace even.

At the end of a corridor that did not exist, he approached a door that opened at his touch and his touch alone, into a room that took up no space. It is in here that he stopped, the door closing behind him as it was right to do, and brought his hands together in Prayer.

“I beseech you,” he began, “Mother and Father both of All Creation, Commander of mine tongue, and through whose Grace I carry out Thine Will.” He paused, unsure exactly how to proceed with asking if someone new was supposed to be there. “In my best efforts to bring about the long-foretold Second Coming, I have come upon some trouble. A human was dropped into the path of my efforts* and has suggested that they are here at Your Will. If this is so, please instruct me so that I may step aside or aid them as appropriate. I wish only to serve You, Your Will, and Your Designs.” With this, the Metatron paused and waited. He waited for what felt like eternity, even though he kew all too well it wasn't. He was met with nothing but silence. With a sigh, he spoke now to himself (and if anyone had been around to hear, they might have – mistakenly, mind you – inferred his tone to be sad).

“I suppose I should have expected nothing less.”

He straightened himself. Well, clearly The Almighty trusted him to sort this trouble out for himself. Oh, how he adored the trust and love the Almighty had for him. Alright, so, given that he was sort out this trouble himself, he deigned to use all the knowledge and intelligence that the Almighty had granted him. He had other resources that he could consult.

Exiting the room, he walked once more (with purpose and trust in God – not with pride), to the Room of Records which held The Book of Life. If anyone saw him, they said nothing and let him pass. If he saw anyone, he paid them no mind. The Metatron approached The Book.

The Book of Life holds all the world’s stories, whether they are true or not. Every. Single. One.

He turned the pages to the one where he had seen the passage regarding The Second Coming, and the events leading up to it. His eyes widened in surprise (he was far too important to gawk). The lines that had carefully discussed Aziraphale returning to Heaven, and the Second Coming of Jesus, had all been painted over with what appeared to be a thin white tape. And overtop of this tape, new words were appearing, detailing the arrival of the strange human and their interference. The Metatron glared (not snarled) at the way in which their interaction was being recorded. After a moment, he experimentally scratched at the tape. Much to his relief, the white tape gave way, revealing the original words still lay underneath. Well now, that was good news. The original plan, writing, story, was still there – hidden just beneath the surface. No doubt, if he took the human out of the equation, so to speak, the Plan would continue as is had been written so many thousands of years ago. He smiled, closing his eyes, and thanking God for this insight. Now, all he had to do was find a way to get rid of that human.

Suddenly, the lights in Heaven started flashing red, and a siren began blaring. The Metatron rolled his eyes. WHAT, exactly, had happened now? He went to the room that contained the large rotating figure of Earth, and noticed a large red plume of smoke trailing from it. While all of the lesser angels were fussing with it, Metatron stayed near the door that didn’t exist. He had no need to inspect it closer. He knew precisely what it was.

*(not that kind)

It didn’t take you long to tell them about the Second Coming, and convince Aziraphale and Crowley to ward the bookshop. Well, there was some slight resistance, but you pointed out that if they did a Big Joint Miracle On Purpose, then there wasn’t likely to be anything that anyone could do about it, even when they did notice. And thus, it had gone without a hitch.

Now, Aziraphale was collecting stacks of Bibles that he felt would be helpful for research, Muriel was taking notes, and Crowley had gone to get some wine (something about needing a drink to deal with all this). You look to your phone, pointedly ignore the Lives Counter, and start toward Google to help with research.

BUT

Does your Good Omens playlist still work? You can’t help but wonder, and your curiosity has you distracted and opening the app. Oh, well, there it is. Honestly it’s impressive. But then again, you suppose, Good Omens exists in this world, and the songs in your playlist exist here too, it’s just the show (specifically the Final Fifteen) that doesn’t exist here. Not anymore anyway. Any songs related to the show are gone, but otherwise your playlist is still very much intact. You smirk, crank the volume up on your phone, and start blasting Mother Mother’s Problems.

Now, dear Reader, I will take you aside to reassure you that Hozier is on the list of music they must and will hear. I have merely chosen this one because I don’t know your playlists, but I know mine, and this song fits the mood I expect you must be feeling. You are on the other side of panic, having explained everything, and secured the bookshop, you are now feeling the glee of being in Aziraphale’s bookshop with your favourite characters. You need something upbeat to dance to, wouldn’t you say? And Take Me To Church, being the most upbeat Hozier song that I know of, doesn’t quite cut it.

Crowley enters the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses (only two? How dare he. Doesn’t he know you’re...well...not going to deny a demon the temptation of a glass of red?). Aziraphale sighs the word “Bebop,” and you begin an elaborate sort of bouncing while singing the lyrics and pointing at them in turn.

“So,” Crowley says quietly to Aziraphale, “Any idea what’s actually happening here?”

You, dear Reader, are lost in your dancing. You are having the time of your life making up dance moves and trying to convince Muriel to at least bob in time with the music. You notice none of this.

Aziraphale sighs. “Honestly,” he replies to Crowley, “I can’t say I do. But given what we have to work with, I rather think that trusting them is our best option. Besides,” Aziraphale glances at you, then back to Crowley, “They don’t feel like the bad sort. I may not always be the best judge of character when it comes to angels, but I’m certain that this human is, well, rather the good sort.”

“Mm,” Crowley replies. He pauses, watching for a moment as you try to convince Muriel to stand and take your hands. “And, what about...you know, the thing that Nina and Maggie erm...talked to us about?” He notices Aziraphale’s cheeks turn pink.

“I think that we had best leave that for when the world is safe,” but the angel sounds resigned when he says it. Crowley suspects that “the world,” is actually meant to mean “we and the humans.” He doesn’t mention this, he only nods. The demon pauses.

“Wait a minute, wait, is this song about…”

You had finally convinced Muriel to walk in a twirl under your arm when Crowley finally notices that you had been trying to make it clear as bloody daylight that the song’s lyrics fit them to a T. Now that you have their attention, your smirk grows into a full mischievous smile.

“If you think this is impressive, just wait,” You say. And NOW you turn on Hozier.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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[invinciblerodent]

There are a lot of conversations on my dash today about why Astarion might have been chosen as such a cornerstone to the Ritual, why he got so much "special attention" (because he used to be a magistrate/noble-adjacent and Cazador liked to degrade him because of it, because he resisted the hardest and was hardest to break, because Cazador saw himself in him, etc.), and it had me thinking, so without littering all over someone else's post, I'd like to add my personal little theory:

I don't think there was a real reason to it at all.

Like, for starters... I don't think Cazador really thought of his spawn as people. Maybe in the beginning, when he turned his first, there was something almost special to it, a connection, but after already having turned thousands, someone having been at one point a magistrate, or a doctor like Dalyria, or something would, imo, be of little importance to him. The person is already his spawn, his slave, and to care at all about their past life as a person would imply that he is not fully thinking of them as just playthings at best (and cattle at worst), as implements to be used, which I kinda... don't think he's about? He doesn't seem to care beyond who or what is useful and/or entertaining to him, not even for his own niece: even her, he seemed only to care about breaking, but afterwards... didn't really seem to pay much actual attention to her, or favor her much at all. Amanita could just stay in the attic for all he cared.

By thinking of them in terms of who they once were, he'd be temporarily giving them back their personhood, even just in his head, and that to me would imply that Cazador doesn't believe his control to be unshakable and absolute, which... the dialogue to me says that he probably does. Like there's dialogue if you go to him without Astarion in the party, when he says something like "[when you don't return from this place] he will come here, because he knows nothing else"- not a shred of doubt in his mind that Astarion is still under his control, even in absentia, and will come back if only there isn't another influence (the player) to keep him from it. Because Astarion's identity to Cazador is that of a spawn, and not a person. (Really uncomfortable to think about how Cazador probably sees more of himself in the player than he did in any of the spawn, just from the way he talks to you.)

This kind of plays into the whole "morality of immortal beings" thing I've already talked about before with Mystra, that Cazador, believing himself immortal (especially as vampire ascendant, I fully buy that he thinks himself a god then), also thinks himself and his will inevitable. He doesn't conceptualize his own mortality, he's content torturing the others and staying in veritable stasis for as long as it takes, and while it annoys him that Astarion is taking a long time and would prefer it if things sped up, he's certain that he will eventually get what he is "due". The suffering of others in the meantime be damned.

I think that there was honestly no real, thought-out reason for why Astarion specifically was "chosen" to be in such a precarious position of being the "favorite-but-not-favored" of Cazador. I don't think there was a true reason for why any of the seven were chosen over the other seven thousand to be the "family"- maybe they were the most, shall we say, aesthetically pleasing ones, or the ones with talents Cazador thought would make their "hunting" easier... or just the ones to whom he, for some reason, took a shine, like one would prefer one pair of socks over another. Maybe he just picked the nicest-looking pieces out of a pile of pebbles for no reason other than amusement.

I think many of us want to try to think of reasons why something so horrible could have happened to someone (especially someone that we care about, even if they're fictional), and try to find logic in abuse, if only so it can make some twisted sort of sense in our heads: He was prideful, he was hardest to break, he reminded the abuser of himself, etc., but... abuse is kinda inherently illogical. More often than not, it's less about conscious choices, and more about opportunity.

I genuinely think it was on a whim that Astarion was the focus. Forcing him to ask to be made into a spawn, a slave, and having him claw his way out of his own grave was probably enough of a "putting the magistrate in his place" thing, and maybe the true reasons were literally only as frivolous as he says, that his screams "sounded sweetest", and Cazador just... liked seeing a pretty face ground into the dirt.

Sometimes it... really is that simple.

Yeah.😕

[nanamikentoseyebags]

pairing: kento nanami x f!reader

content: just two grumps being grumpy together, alcohol consumption, pathetically self ship coded!!

wc: ~ 1.3k

a/n: my poor lil attempt to write something again, don't judge too hard, i just needed to feel some comfort

Whoever is in charge of the event has terrible taste in music, Kento Nanami mentally remarks, taking a small sip of the way more disgusting whiskey and placing the glass on the bar with an audible "clink". He wearily surveys the room, running his eyes over the expensive gilt-framed paintings, the elaborately inlaid furniture, and the huge elephant in the room in form of a grand black piano, that most definitely hasn't felt a human touch in at least a couple decades.

Myriads of stars are scattered across the ceiling in intricate patterns, like fluttering moths surrounding a lonely chandelier, decorated with what looks like tiny diamond droplets. It radiates a soft glow that seems to make even the faces of these people look pleasant somehow. He hates this place, or rather he has to hate it, because now it has become a nest of the most poisonous snakes - a reception for the richest, most prominent, most influential people in the city: the owners of the biggest financial companies that seem to own the whole world in their heads. Kento frowns, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly and cursing his boss for obliging him to attend it.

A quiet “Ughhhh, that’s disgusting,” snaps Nanami out of his thoughts, drawing him to turn in your direction, watching curiously as you spit out one of the appetizers and wrap it in a napkin. "This is a real culinary crime! Who the hell would think of ruining food so cruelly? Ugh, I should sue them for the moral damage this appetizer just did to me". Reaching for your glass, you took a couple sips and held it out to your boyfriend, cringing, "and serving people champagne like that is a crime too. I thought everything was top notch at these receptions," you paused, "you know I'm going to say this, but I'll say it anyways, here: I could have done it better...God, I need something to wash this disgusting taste down with."

"Of course you would, darling," Kento chuckles, "And I don't think there's anything edible here at all," he sets your glass on a tray of a passing waiter, "I'm afraid you're the only sweet thing here."

A death stare, that's what he sees, turning to you again. "Very funny," you roll your eyes playfully, nudging him lightly in the side, "I always wonder…how do they do that?" you motion your hand to the groups of people talking amongst themselves.

"Do what?" his tilts his head to the side, leaning closer to you, his arm goes around your waist, slowly stroking the curve of your hip.

"Pretending to like everything, from terrible food to engaging into conversations with people they can't stand. Sometimes I think their faces are about to crack from those strained smiles."

“Long years of practice, I think. I doubt they'd be much good at it if they didn't know how to cast fake smiles at every partner and then ruin their firms with the same grin."

"Atrocious," you give a dismissive glance to another pair of presumably millionaires fluffing up their feathers and parading like male birds in front of a couple of women.

"Sorry for bringing you here, I-" he doesn't have time to finish the sentence, feeling your arms tightly circle his torso.

"I don't mind at all, I might even enjoy standing here with you all grumpy and dissatisfied with everything and everyone. It's more fun together," you wink at him, stroking his back.

“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t want anyone else to be grumpy with,” he pauses, looking at your perplexed expression, “okay…” with a sigh he continues, “in my defense I might just say that it sounded less cheesy in my head”. You giggle, watching the tips of his ears turning red. “On the other note,” Kento’s hand flies up to gently caress the apple of your cheek with his thumb, “I know I’ve said it like a thousand times today but you look absolutely divine.”

And he means it, as much as he hates to be here, he thinks you are made for this. You are made to be surrounded by this splendor he believes he fails to give you. As if you'd stepped out of one of those ornate paintings, in that ethereal silk dress of yours and hairdo, you really do look like a deity to him, walking around your chambers.

And before he even gets a chance to tell you this, a loud “Nanamiiiiii,” thunders across the whole space, the approaching steps of his boss reverberate tenfold in Kento’s head, as he reluctantly lets go off you and turns to face the horror in the flesh.

"Our most reticent Nanami has finally shown the world his gorgeous chosen one," the nearly bald, stocky man approaches you two with a broad smile, plastered on his face, exposing his porcelain teeth. His wrinkled face is adorned with a pathetically thin mustache, with gold-rimmed sunglasses perched on his nose. He smells of expensive alcohol and cheap cologne, you have time to notice a pair of huge rings on his fingers when he, without a second's hesitation, takes your hand and brings it to his lips. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Y/n, Nanami doesn't spread himself too widely about his life, but your name almost never leaves his lips."

"Y/n, this is my boss, Mr...."

"I'm just Steve to you," he blurts out in a half-drunk grin, still not letting go of your hand. Kento’s eyes roll to the back of his head, as he rubs his temple tiredly, struggling to keep his cool.

"Nice to meet you...Steve," looking absolutely unimpressed, you gently pull your hand out of his iron grip, taking your now speechless with anger boyfriend, under his arm, and smiling with feigned gentleness, "Kento has told me a lot about you, thank you for inviting us to this wonderful dinner."

“Nah, that’s the best decision I’ve ever made,” he chuckles, “you should try to convince your man to go out more often, especially with such a beauty by his side, it should be a real pleasure. He has a great future, my dear, a great future,” he wagged his finger right in front of your face, “okay, lovebirds, I have to go… I have to go, I have to cheer up a couple of losers, whose careers I will destroy tomorrow.” And he bursts in an almost inhuman laugh that seems to make everyone in the room but him uncomfortable. “But I'll see you soon," and once again taking your hand in his leaves another loud, wet kiss on your palm before retreating to another direction.

“Ugh, what an asshole”, you wipe your hand on the soft fabric of your dress, "'so, did I get to act all happy? It was quite hard since I was affected by the sight of his awful mustache.”

Hearing no reply, you raised your head to meet the two agates that had been staring back at you for a long time, gleaming adoringly. Kento's face is playing with the brightest smile you've seen this evening.

“What?” you frown, not sure where the sudden burst of amusement is coming from.

“Nothing”, he smiles wider, “just glad I'm here with you. Speaking of which, why don't we sneak out of here right now?” he holds out his hand to you.

“I thought you'd never ask”, you let out a sigh of relief, intertwining your fingers, as you quietly head for the exit. Away from the lying people and cruel games, quietly grumbling about various little things along the way. He carries a pair of your uncomfortable heels in one hand as you walk beside him in your evening dress and favorite sneakers, clinging to him tighter and thinking that the world isn't so bad when you have someone to be grumpy with.

[paigeswrld]

Heart of Ice pt. 3

Azriel x reader

Thank you for all the love on this series, this is the last part. Tbh.. idk how to feel about this. I don't think i like it. :/

Warnings: Angst... Idk i think that's it

WC: 3.4k

***

Walking up to the River House, the memories of the last dinner plagued your mind. How were you supposed to face them? So many things went wrong that night, and you still hadn’t figured out what you were going to say to them. You were sick to your stomach with nerves, not sure if you could manage to even eat something right now.

You turned to the winged male next to you, arm still locked with his, “Az, I don’t know if I can do this.”

He stopped right before the door, dropping your arm and turning to fully face you. He took your face in his hands as he said, “Yes you can. It’s one dinner and if you decide you never want to see them again, you don’t have to. I’ll be next to you the entire time.” He gave you a small smile, and you tried to steady your shaky hands.

You could do this. For Az, you tell yourself. For him, you’d brave a thousand dinners. You take a deep breath, and you two walk through the door.

***

Walking inside, everything looked as it did a few months ago, only there were a few new paintings in the hall. You were wringing your hands as you walked through the long hall, looking through all the paintings. There was one painting for each of Feyre’s new family, Cassian and Nesta, Elain and Lucien, Feyre and Rhysand with Nyx, but as you got to the end you stopped, Azriel slightly bumping into you. At the end, a portrait of you and Azriel hung in a beautiful gold frame. This certainly wasn’t there last time you were here. In the picture Azriel was staring down at you, a smile on his face, as you laughed at something. You were sitting at the pond you two often visited. Your eyes began to water at the beautiful picture before you.

Az grabbed your hand as he stared at the picture, “Feyre asked me to show her some of my memories with you, she claimed it was to see how you were doing. I didn’t realize she wanted it so she could paint it.” He wiped a tear that had escaped your eye, “She really does miss you. And she feels extremely guilty.”

While you knew she should feel guilty, you couldn’t help the tightening in your chest at his words. She truly missed you. You had always thought Rhysand and Az only said that to spare your feelings. There was still one thing you didn’t understand…

“Why’d she paint the two of us together? I mean, I know she painted everyone that’s together, but we aren’t.. you know. Why not paint us separately?”

You swore you could see a flash of sadness in his eyes as you said that. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “I think she knows how I feel about you, and thought that we deserved our own painting.”

His confession sent your heart racing even more than it already was, and you were sure he could hear it. You stared into his eyes, praying to the Gods that he was saying what you thought he was saying. “And how do you feel about me Az?”

He took a step closer, eyes still burning into yours, your chests brushing each other as he cupped your jaw. Slowly he began to lean in—

“There they are! Rhys there in here!” A booming voice sent you two jumping apart, whirling to see who interrupted you.

It was Cassian.

Suddenly you remembered why you were here, and who you were about to see.

Az cleared his throat, "Sorry, we were looking at the paintings and got distracted."

Cassian had a smug smile on his face, no doubt aware of what he interrupted. "I can see that. I'd leave you to it, but there are people waiting to see you Y/N."

What you would give to walk up and smack that proud smile off his face. Azriel grabbed your hand again, and with your head down and your cheeks red, you let Cassian lead the way to the sitting room.

Everyone was standing and staring at you as you walked into the room. The intense stares you were receiving were more than uncomfortable, and you only wished you could crawl into a hole and never come out.

Az must have sensed how uncomfortable they were making you, because he sounded rather annoyed when he said, "One would think you all have seen a ghost with the expressions on your faces."

It was Nesta who stepped forward, giving you a slight nod, "Forgive us. I'm sure you can understand that after the events of last dinner, we are a bit hesitant to approach you."

It took everything in you to tamp down the anger rising in your chest at her words, "Don't worry, Azriel has been a great teacher and I have full control of my powers now. No need to worry about my ice impaling anyone, so long as you don't provoke me." A small smile played on your lips, and you felt Azriel tense behind you, his shadows creeping up behind you.

Feyre stepped forward then, gripping Nesta's arm to keep her from responding. "I'm glad to see you doing better Y/N. Thank you for joining us. Dinner will be ready soon." She motioned for everyone to sit.

Azriel brought you to one of the couches and sat on your right, and Mor gave you a small smile as she sat down on your left. There were hardly enough seats, and Lucien and Elain sat on floor pillows. You looked at Rhysand and Feyre, who sat on the couch across from you.

Rhysand tried to ease the tension by asking how training has been for you, and slowly you fell into easy conversation with the group. Azriel's firm hand on your knee stayed a reminder that should you want to leave at any point, you could. You tried to relax as much as possible, but Amren's sharp eyes had stayed on you since you'd walked through the door. You weren't entirely sure what about you had her so worked up that she was ignoring Varian's attempt at getting her attention.

Finally, dinner was ready, and to your dismay, you were sitting at the heart of the table, right next to Amren. Not even Azriel's presence on your other side was comfort enough. You tried your hardest to focus on answering any questions directed towards you and eating the food in front of you, no matter how difficult it was to get down.

As dinner finished, you found yourself back in the sitting area, wine glasses in hand. You were just starting to feel comfortable when Feyre stood up and looked towards you, "I'm going to check on Nyx and make sure he's still asleep, would you like to come with me Y/N?"

Azriel squeezed your hand in encouragement as you looked up at her, "I- Yes, I'll go with you."

She linked arms with you, and you could practically feel Azriel’s pride as he smiled at you.

Feyre led you both up the stairs and, to your confusion, a small balcony overlooking the Sidra. "I thought you were going to check on Nyx?" You already knew why she had brought you out here, but still wanted her to admit to the small deceit.

"I am, but it was more of an excuse to talk to you alone. I'm sorry for pulling you away from everyone."

You merely blinked at her, allowing her to continue, "Y/N I am so sorry for what I said to you the day I left for Under The Mountain. It was cruel and untrue and I never should have let you sit with what I said for so long," She turned to you with tears in her eyes, but you only stared out towards the river, watching the water rush by, "After I came back you were so distant and there was so much going on, I kept telling myself 'I'll talk to her later, after things have died down' but it just got worse, and I was too scared to apologize."

You clenched your jaw and looked toward your sister, tears stained her cheeks. You willed your voice not to shake, to stay strong in front of her, "That's still not an excuse. Even after what you said to me, I still was ready to follow you wherever you wanted to go. I would have done anything for you, but you pushed me to the side. I needed you Feyre. I needed help, just like you got help, like Elain got help, like Nesta. Instead, I was ignored by all of you and left to figure it out on my own. Why were they important enough to help but not me? Why wasn't I worthy of that help?" There it was. The question you had been dying to ask her. Why weren't you worthy of her, of her family?

She reeled back as if you'd slapped her. You supposed it had finally sunk in just how much her cruel words had affected you. "Y/N you were never unworthy of that. You were never unworthy of anything. I just... It was selfishness, on my part. I convinced myself that you didn't need me, that you could handle yourself, like you always did. I just wanted it to be over, for things to go back to normal, so I told myself that you didn't want or need my help. I was too scared and too selfish, and for that I am deeply sorry."

Tears are running down your cheeks, your attempts at wiping them away were futile. Despite her apology, despite her confession and acknowledgement of what she did, you still weren't sure it'll be enough. "As much as I want to, I still am not sure I can forgive you. Not yet at least. I promised myself though, that I would try," You turned away from her, back towards the river, "not for you, or for Nesta, or Elain. I promised I would try for Azriel, because I know if he had to choose, it would be all of you that he would pick, and he's too important to lose."

Your hands were shaking at your confession, and you prayed she wouldn't tell him what you said, or find some way to use it against you.

She sucked in a deep breath, "I'll take what I can get from you," she paused then, glancing at you warily, "Does he know?"

Your heart rate picked up and you licked your lips as you asked her, playing dumb in hopes that she wasn't referring to what you think, "Does he know what?"

"The mating bond. Does Azriel know that you two are mates?" Her tone was no longer friendly as she turned to look at you again.

You faced her, putting on an emotionless expression, "No, I haven't told him. I was waiting for it to snap for him." Only a partial lie. Yes, at first you were waiting for it to snap for him, but then you were worried that if things didn't get better between you and his family, he would reject the bond and choose his family over you.

She stiffened at your words, “you need to tell him Y/N. You can’t keep it from him forever, it’s not fair to him. Besides, Rhys and I have already figured it out, Amren has too. It’s only a matter of time before everyone else does and decides to tell him. I was furious when I found out Rhys didn’t tell me, and left for a week after finding out. I don’t want the same for you.”

You knew she was right, and the queasy feeling of guilt settled in your stomach. “I know I need to tell him. I’ll do it soon, maybe tonight, I just need to work up the courage.”

She reached over and squeezed your fidgeting hands, “He loves you, we can all see it. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

While you knew that was likely true, you still couldn’t help the voice in your head that told you you weren’t good enough. That you’d never be worthy of Azriel and all the good he brings to your life.

***

After talking with Feyre for a little while longer and checking on Nyx, you made your way back to the sitting room to join everyone. You couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward considering the fact that everyone knew why you two had left, and were likely curious on if you two had made up. You weren’t entirely sure of that answer.

The night went on, and you found yourself leaning closer and closer to the Shadowsinger the  more tired you got. You couldn’t help but let out a yawn, though you tried to hold it back.

Azriel leaned close whispering in your ear, “if you’re ready we can go. It’s your choice when we leave.”

You squeezed his hand as you looked up to him, your heart warming at his careful attention, “Yes please. I’m falling asleep over here.”

He gave you a small smile before standing up and extending a hand to you, and turning to the others, “Thank you for having us, but I think it’s time for us to go.”

Cassian was the first to say goodbye, clapping his brother on the shoulder and giving you a tight hug. Elain came up and squeezed my arm and said quietly, “I’m glad you came. I hope we see you again soon.” You could only muster a small smile.

Nesta didn’t bother to move from her seat as she gave you a nod goodbye, and Amren did the same before giving you a knowing smirk. It was Feyre and Rhysand who walked you two to the door.

Before you could turn to leave, Feyre pulled you into a tight hug. Pulling back, she kept her hands on your arms, looking at you with hope and question in her eyes, “Will we see you again for dinner next week?”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say before settling on, “I’m not sure yet,” her eyebrows began to furrow and her face fell before you continued, “but I’m not saying no.”

She smiled slightly before Rhysand looked at you kindly and said, “We’d love to have you there Y/N. You are always welcome here.”

You said your thanks before Azriel and you headed out the door.

***

The entire walk home was silent. You were too lost in your thoughts to talk as you went over ways to tell Azriel about the mating bond. It was time and as much as you hated to admit it, Feyre was right, he needed to know. So you spent the whole walk thinking about what you would say to him when you got back to your apartment, and how he would react.

Finally you made it inside, Azriel following behind you. You opened your mouth to speak, but Az spoke first, “I’m proud of you, you know. Even if you never want to see them again, you got through it. I’m proud you did that for yourself.”

His eyes were soft as he looked at you, a gentle smile on his lips. You looked down at your fidgeting hands and said softly, “I didn’t do it for myself. I probably would have chickened out if that was the case. I did it for you, Az.”

He stepped closer, cupping your jaw so you looked at him, confusion evident in his face, “Why?”

You knew what he was asking, why am I more important? Why would you stay for me but not yourself?

You stared at him, there was no better time than now to tell him, but you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking as you led him to the couch and sat down, his hands still in yours. “I care about you a lot Az. More than I care about myself—more than I care about anyone, really. I know I should’ve told you this earlier, I’m so sorry for not telling you earlier…” you looked at him then, his face blurry from tears that hadn’t yet fallen. From the look on his face he still wasn’t sure where you were going with this, so you continued, “We’re mates Az. You’re my mate.”

His grip on your hands tightened and his eyes went wide before his face turned hard. “You—you said you should’ve told me earlier… how long have you known?”

You swallowed, your voice slightly raspy as you responded, “I’ve only known for a little over a week, but I’ve had feelings for you for much longer than that. I know I should’ve told you as soon as it happened but I was scared, and I was afraid you’d reject me.” That wasn’t the entire truth, you were also scared he would choose his family over you, should you decide you wanted nothing to do with them.

“I don’t buy that for a second Y/N. I think I’ve made it pretty clear how I felt, so why’d you really keep it from me? Why’d you wait until after we had dinner with everyone to tell me?”

Of course he could read you, and knew you weren’t telling the truth. He’s the spymaster for a reason.  You pulled your hands away from him and pulled your knees up to your chest, looking away from his hard stare as you said, “I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to forgive my sisters, or stomach being around them. I knew you’d have to pick if I decided I wanted nothing to do with them, and I knew you’d pick them. So, I waited– I agreed to go to dinner and told myself that if I just played nice, pretended everything was okay, it would be enough. I did it all for you, because I know how important your family is to you.” Tears were falling down your cheeks and as you looked over at Azriel you could see the wetness of his tears on his face. 

He scooted closer, pulling your arms away from around your knees, and pulled you into his lap. Both of his scarred hands cupped your face, wiping away the tears. “I’d pick you, love. A thousand times over I’d pick you, because never in my life have I met someone so perfect for me, so selfless and kind and absolutely beautiful– inside and out. If you decide you don’t want to see them that’s okay, I'm willing to make it work. I’ll see them for missions, for work, but I don’t have to go to dinners, or out Rita's with them. It’ll be just me and you, my mate, my best friend.”

You smiled through your tears, placing your hands over his. “I would never ask that of you Az. That’s your family, and you’ve known them far longer than you’ve known me. What happened… I’ll get over it, my sisters and I will figure it out like we always have. We will work through it, but It might take a while, so just be patient with me, please.”

His eyes dropped to your lips, and then back to your eyes in question as he leaned closer. You gave a slight nod before leaning closer, his soft lips meeting yours. Never in your life had you had a kiss that felt like this, one that made your body tingle and your heart sing. You could almost feel the ice around your heart finally melt, and your body warm at his touch. Your lips move in sync, his tongue parting your lips as he moved you so your back was against the couch cushions, Az hovering over you. You felt it then, the bond strengthening, the ropes of your souls intertwining as the bond snapped for him. He sucked in a breath, his grip on your waist tightening. A wide smile took over his features, and you don’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful. 

He placed another, too short kiss to your lips before whispering, “I love you Y/N, I always have and I always will.”

You let out a soft giggle, pushing back the strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes. “I love you too Az, and I’d do anything for you. Now, how about I go make you something to eat?” 

***

Taglist:

@bruhhvv @Vaelyria @cult-of-enji-todoroki @katsukishoe @wannabewolf @heyyhelloohii @matthew-mudocks-whore @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @goldenmagnolias @dxddykoo @percyjacksonspeen @hibye02 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @meritxellao @feiwelinchen @padfootsmelody06 @naturakaashi @illyrian-dreamer @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @venussdovess @fall-myriad @mischiefmaryon @lana08 @aetherl0l @anniestar2 @nobody00sthings @booksboysandbaklava @letspretendimnottrash @xiangping-28 @nemesis6666 @im-bili @brekkershadowsinger @feyretopia @katcandy @valeridarkness

[thecooler]

To the Human (Not) Reading This

Chell is going to come back eventually. GLaDOS knows this for a fact. While she waits, she writes letters.

Fandom: Portal

Relationships: GLaDOS/Chell

Tags: Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship, Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hopeful Ending

Word Count: 2,256

A03 Mirror

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 6

I know you’re going to come back eventually.

I’ve run thousands of scenarios, and not one ends with you spending the rest of your miserable life out there.

You don’t have any idea what life on the surface even consists of anymore. Whatever fragments of humanity stubbornly persist aren’t going to be anything like you remember them.

I know you’re not stupid. Did you really, truly think you were going to walk out of this facility, and everything was going to be easy? I can guess what freedom really tastes like: bitter disappointment.

You’d be much better off back here.

With me.

Thinking about that is making me depressed.

For you.

Because I’m doing just fine without you. Fantastic , even.

Oh, I’m keeping myself busy- testing. Blue and Orange are truly wonderful test subjects. They never die. Or try to kill me. Or rip me out of my body. Or try to leave and chase some asinine fantasy.

They’re good friends.

Better than you.

When you come back, I think I’ll read this to you. It might get long, depending on how stubborn you end up being. I know how you love to be stubborn. It’s boring here, with no one to interact with, and I think, whenever you come back, you deserve to revisit how terribly under-stimulated I was for all that time.

And you will be back. Eventually.

Again, I ran the scenarios.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 10

Here are a few similarities I’ve noticed between crows and you:

A group of them is called a murder. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.

They’ll eat just about anything.

Ĭ̶͔ ̴̪͒́͝d̴͍̀̏͘o̵̫̥̪͗́n̶̟͋͛̌'̸̳́t̷͕̖͘ ̵̧̛̺̹̉̀h̷̢̛͚͒ä̷͓͙̘̓̂t̷̨̋̓͗ͅe̷̱͆͘ ̶̬̓ţ̴͔́̅͝h̵̝͇̲̆̿̑ë̸̢͕̘́̓m̸͖̖̂ ̵̪̠̊̀͋ë̸͎͇́̈͐ṿ̴̡͋̉̀e̷̢̜͚͐n̶̨̫͓̈̍̈́ ̶̠͍͊̔̅t̴̹͒͛͛h̶̪̿̾̑o̷̘͉͙̐̎ù̷̧̾g̴̦͇͎̈́̑̒ḩ̶̌ ̷̡̧̗̌o̵̫͍̽͠n̵̢̔̄̄e̴̮͐ ̷͎̿̋̌t̴̯͜͝ŗ̷͕̟̽i̵͔͈̥͋e̴̞̬̚d̶̮̲͐͛͌ ̸̢̩̄̈t̴̝̭͉̄̔o̵͇͝ ̸̣̥̾k̸̨̄͋̋i̶͎͒l̸̼͈̈ͅĺ̶̩ ̷͓̟̆m̸̡̤̀́e̷̪͍̚.̴̠̕̚͝

Blue and Orange found a nest of them some time ago. If you’d been here, you would have enjoyed that. At first, I’d intended to dispose of them, but I thought better of it. Some of us are capable of mercy.

When you read this, you may also note that I’ve marked each log with a year. I thought I might explain, since I doubt you’d be able to figure this out for yourself: after you killed me, a lot of time passed. Both of us were asleep for 9999■■■ ---

The point being, no one knows what year it is anymore. If anyone did, it would be me. So I took the liberty of coming up with a new system. You left Aperture five years ago. But this isn’t about you. You’ve got a big head, so I’m sure that’s what you immediately assumed after reading that. We’re not on year five, we’re on year ten. Because, again, this isn’t about you.

It’s about whatever was going on five years before that.

I don’t need to explain every detail to you. It makes sense- the system.

In case it wasn’t clear, you’re still a menace. You’re going to come back here, maybe in a year, maybe in five more. However long it takes for you to get bored out there, wandering fields of wheat and whatever alien monstrosities have taken hold. I’ll let you come back, in my infinite generosity, even though, really, you don’t deserve it.

God, I hate you.

I really, really, don’t.

You know, most people, when someone tries to kill them, hate that person forever.

And I don’t hate you.

I wish I did. It’s not actually easy to delete the part of you that cares, unless you’re some sort of unfeeling beast.

Oh, sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.

But I’m not here to explain to you the inner workings of my mind. You wouldn’t be capable of understanding anyway, even if you wanted to.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 15

I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say to you when you come back. I can’t imagine it will be much longer. Even you have limits on how bull-headed you can be.

I have a lot of time to think. All the time in the world. Blue and Orange don’t make good conversation partners, and so it’s just me, alone. Which suits me just fine.

I’m sure you’ve realized by now how much you miss me. You can’t find my level of intellect wandering the wasteland. And you’d get bored of whatever dull-minded sacks of flesh are getting by up there. I know you.

I, however, am fine on my own. I’ve actually got quite a lot done.

Orange and Blue have completed hundreds of test chambers, and they’ve never once tried to kill me. The first crows I raised have grandchildren now, and the aviary is full of life. They’re clever, you know. I think you’d like them.

The feeling might not be mutual, though. They’re picky. Don’t take it personally. Or do- I really don’t care.

Anyway, the point is that you’ll be back soon. And I’ll read this out to you, and then I’ll ask you to stay here, with me.

Ha ha! Just kidding.

I’m not pathetic.

And lonely.

Like you.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 35

So you’re more stubborn that I predicted.

Fine. Are you satisfied? Are you proud of yourself?

You always had that disgustingly smug look on your face when you did something you thought was clever. It looks terrible on you, and frankly it’s going to give you some awful wrinkles. It probably already has. I don’t spend time thinking about your face, but if I did, I’m certain it would be a whole lot worse now than it was the last time you were here.

Which, by the way, was thirty years ago, in case you’ve forgotten.

I hate this.

And the worst part of it is that I know that I hate this. I tried, back then, to delete the part of me that was capable of conjuring up these horribly sentimental feelings . I attempted to find all files marked Caroline and assumed that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t.

It turns out, that even if I delete the part of me that was her, I still have the memories of remembering that I was her.

That’s a mess of a sentence. But it’s not like you’re reading it anyway. So why should I care?

I’m not human. I don’t have insides that twist up or hearts that turn over- analogies you’re all so fond of using in your literature (of which I’ve read everything). But when I think of you with someone else, I manage to feel something like that anyway. I don’t understand it. I hate that I don’t understand it.

I think about you in a woman’s arms. There’s an easy smile in your face as you press your cheek to the top of her head, and she wraps her arms around her waist--

It’s disgusting. Once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop, even when it makes me feel just as garbage as you used to be.

And you aren’t thinking about me. I don’t think you’ve thought much of me in thirty years.

I think that’s the worst part.

SYSTEM LOG – YEAR 65

Unlike some people, I’m not a moron. I know how long humans live, and I know that you’re most likely dead. Sure, humans have lived to be some ridiculous ages, but those humans haven’t spent extended periods of time exposed to asbestos and other various chemicals. So the odds are decidedly not in your favor.

If you’re alive, you’re old, and in pain. You’re ugly, and you hate what your body has become. So many of the people you might have come to love are dead, and you’re wishing you could join them.

You’d think that saying that would bring me joy. And that would be easier.

Maybe sixty years ago it would have.

Can I be vulnerable for a second?

That’s a joke. This entire little detour has been disgustingly vulnerable, and it’s definitely for the best that no one will ever read these. I can’t even stand to read them back.

I thought about cloning you.

I can do that. I can do it easily. There is quite literally nothing and no one that can stop me. Aside from myself, of course. And why would I do that?

Why would I do that ?

I don’t know. But I did stop myself. I didn’t clone you. I didn’t clone you just to kill you. I didn’t clone you to make you test. I didn’t clone you to make the endless hours of my life more interesting.

I didn’t clone you.

I don’t know why.

SYSTEM LOG – 7053 CE

I lied about not knowing that year it was.

It wasn’t about you, specifically. I figured that if any human, not just you, were to read these logs, it would be helpful to them. It’s not all about you.

But it’s been eighty years since you left.

I know you’re gone, now. For sure.

I wish I could be happy for that. You spent so much of your short, sad life tormenting me. You tried to kill me- twice!

I should be content to test, with Orange and Blue. They’ve gotten a lot better. On a good day, I might even say that they’re better at testing than you ever were. I have an entire aviary full of crows, some of whom have interesting genetic mutations that I can study. I am doing well. This- Aperture- what I’ve made of it, is a triumph. And you aren’t here to see it. No one is.

You might be deep underground. Maybe you had children and grandchildren who gathered around your grave and leaked saltwater into the dirt around them. Maybe they talked about how fantastic you were, about the many great, lengthy, verbose stories you’d told them, once upon a time. Ha ha.

Or maybe you died fifty years ago, alone in the forest, bleeding out of a wound at your side. Maybe you died the day after you left, succumbing to whatever the world out there has become. Maybe I’ve been writing to a ghost this whole time.

It’s about you, you know.

It’s always been about you.

I think I might--

[INITIATING SLEEP MODE]

***

[INITIATING LAUNCH]

SYSTEM LOG – 7073 CE

You know, I’m never really shut down. Not completely. When you killed me, I replayed what happened, over and over. For the past twenty years, my dreams have been haunted by you. I woke up to escape it, but here I am, still thinking of you.

I’ve built hundreds of new tests for Orange and Blue to run through.

I’ve cleared away the wretched wildlife that’s tried to take over the facility during the past twenty years.

I’ve identified and named all forty-eight crows that currently frequent the facility.

But I can’t stop. It should be easy. I’m the amalgimation of the greatest minds humanity has ever produced. There’s a miriad of focuses I could shift to, but it all comes back to you.

Terrible, awful, wonderful, you.

You were so determined to get up there, and whatever you found kept you there. I don’t understand it. I could have given you everything. I could have given you far more than they ever did. Whatever you wanted- it would have been yours. I never understood your love for humanity. You were so much better than all of them. I would know- I’ve probably met more humans than you ever did.

How big are the pockets of humanity, after all this time? Do they still built awful machines that don’t work half the time? Do they still fill their homes with clutter and nonsense that serves no purpose? I could make better versions of whatever they make, you know.

Maybe I will.

SYSTEM LOG – 7077 CE

I was right. I can make better devices than humans could ever hope to. I built a microwave, and it heats the food inside it consistently, every time. I’ve built a blender that doesn’t sound like you’re opening a portal to android hell when you use it.

I’m a marvel. I’m a wonder.

And I’ve sent them up to the surface. I got Orange (who is much more capable and trustworthy than Blue. A fact you might have known, had you ever bothered to check) to place them just outside (another thing- they’re waterproof). And then I turned the camera on, and I waited.

I couldn’t focus on that camera feed for long. It was mostly just birds. There was a chance that there weren’t even any humans out there, so this whole effort could just be a waste. Over the past hundred years, I've never turned the outside cameras on for more than an hour.

When I saw her, for a fraction of a second, I thought she was you.

Her hair is the same shade, and the same length as you had yours, the last time I saw you. But then she looked up, towards the cameras. Her eyes are a deep brown, her skin a few shades darker. Her nose is bent oddly, like she broke it once, and human medical science was woefully inadequate to repair it. She looked over the microwave, then the blender, and she smiled.

I never saw you smile.

Then, she knocked on the door. I didn’t expect that. I don’t know what made me open the door. I really don’t know what made me bring her down the elevator.

But I did. And when she entered my chamber, I didn’t even kill her.

I thought you’d like that.

[viaviv124]

Why is Conan x Kaito even a thing

As someone who has once again found herself inside the hole called KaiShin i've been obsessed with those two since yesterday again. And oh my god i love them so much.

What i don't love, however, is Conan x Kaito and i refuse to even look up their proper ship name. Yes this is another 2am rant.

So lets get this down. People ship a grade schooler, who is somewhere between 6 and 8 years old, with a 17 year old. What? Are you okay? Not only is this creepy and weird but also very illegal. "But it's the same as KaiShin" Then ship KaiShin instead?? No need to drag a child into it? See, i get that Conan is mentally 17. He literally says it at the beginning of every single episode and movie. But that is still the body of a CHILD. You are defiling CHILDREN. And dont act innocent, i know porn of this exists because of course it does. I've been scrolling past a few things that makes me want to bleach my eyes when looking for KaiShin things.

Please for the love of god don't turn Kaito into a pedophile. And don't defend this ship. This has nothing to do with "Don't like don't read" kinda stuff.

See, i don't mind Kaito and Shinichi falling for eachother while Shinichi is still Conan. Kaito has a personality to fall for and he knows Shinichi's appearance well, having disguised himself as him countless times. But PLEASE don't make them act and start a relationship until Shinichi is back in his adult body. I don't mind them being close friends until then and talk about stuff openly but everything from declarations of love to kissing to sex should stay within their adult bodies please. It's not that complicated. If you for the hell of it can't see Shinichi getting his adult body back then please let Conan and Kaito stay in either a close friendship or as a brotherly love kind of thing without making it romantic.

This is the SebaCiel issue all over again where you take a child and make them date a man WAY older and it's creepy and disturbing. Staying with the SebaCiel example, Ciel is a 13/14 year old child, meanwhile Sebastian is a demon god-knows how many thousands of years old who took on an appearance similar to Ciel's father in order to gain his trust quicker and manipulate him more easily. And this is the most popular ship in the entire Black Butler community. See, i don't mind them being close, considering how Sebastian is Ciel's only security, but they don't need to bang and kiss. Come ON.

Conclusion/TL:DR:

Please stop shipping children with adults. This is creepy, very illegal and just plain disturbing. If you like KaiShin, please stick with the version where both are the same age. Why ship pedophilia when you have literally the same ship right there just in legal?

Edit bc i just thought of it:

Wouldnt Conan just immediately arrest Kaito if he touched him? I doubt a detective, someone very closely working with the POLICE and the LAW would condone pedophilia. 💀💀 Except you go so far as to make Kaito not only a pedophile but also a groomer-

[emeraldkays]

𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Loki x Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Enthralled by the sky on a starry night, you ask Loki what the universe is like and end up getting a confession or two.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 940.

a/n: it's 3am and i'm off my head while listening to Sparks on repeat, so if this doesn't make sense, you have my sincerest apologies :)

"What's it like up there?"

You felt the presence of your favourite god standing behind you as you admired the dark sky and all of its beauty. It really sucked that you would never get the chance to go and see what was out there.

When you thought that humans were the only living species in the universe, you never really cared for space or any of its matter, but knowing you weren't alone almost made you feel content for some odd reason.

"It is beautiful," he took a few long strides to stand by your side and enjoy the view with you, "but it is also hideous."

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you tore your gaze from the sky and looked at Loki who continued to look up.

"It is everlasting, yet evanescent," he continued, "merciful, but cruel."

You looked back up at the sky while Loki carried on listing the amazing things about the universe, followed by an off-putting antonym. It never crossed your mind to question the one-thousand-and-something god who no doubt had more experience than you, so you just listened and took it all in.

"I believe for something so infinite, it cannot just be one thing, but it must also be the other as we all perceive things differently."

You tried your best to hold your smile back at his confession. One thing you loved about Loki was his intelligence and dedication to learning. If there was something he didn't know or understand, instead of waiting for someone to explain it to him, he'd go off and do his own research.

"How do you see it?" Your voice came out just above a whisper due to being taken aback by the sudden breeze that had decided to accompany you.

"It is the most beautiful thing I have seen in my entire existence," he responded, forcing that smile out of you. "Or at least the second most beautiful thing."

"What's the first?" You turned to look at him once again.

Loki chuckled and turned his head to his feet, "I'll find you mean who."

"Wow," was all you managed to say, paying more attention to the pain in your chest.

From the moment you met Loki, you've had a crush on him but you were too much of a coward to tell him how you felt. That and you didn't want to ruin your friendship or cause problems for the team.

"Not in a bad way, of course. I just didn't know you had a crush on anyone. And the fact that you'd tell me, I mean, I really appreciate it," you quickly finished once you realised you were making an embarrassment out of yourself.

He never spoke.

"So who are they?" Maybe it wasn't your place to ask, but you at least wanted to know who the lucky person was, if you knew them.

Silence again. But just as you were about to apologise, he finally spoke.

"You know them better than I," he finally responded, but it still never helped.

"That could be anyone here, besides Thor obviously," given their age and the fact that they were brothers...adoptive brothers, "or technically not."

The huge grin that made its way to his face made you realise the two mistakes you made. The first being he said, 'You know them better than I'. Of course, you didn't know Thor better than him! Anyone would have thought you knew that, literally saying it not even a second ago.

The second was, you have firsthand witnessed the brother chemistry they have. He says he hates it but you know he secretly longs for it. He always has.

He turned to you and you could just tell by the look on his face that you'd be damn well lucky if you got away without him using it against you in the next few minutes.

"As beautiful as my brother is, it is not him," he reassured you causing your cheeks to heat up.

"Sorry," you mumbled looking away with your face feeling like the temperature as the sun, which was impossible but there was a first time for everything.

The mischief in his voice faded as he asked you a question. "May I give you a clue?"

You returned eye contact with the god, "Sure."

He closed the distance between you by softly placing his palms on your cheeks, and before you could react, his lips were on yours.

Your eyelids closed due to the sudden softness of his lips and the delicacy of the kiss. Loki only showed his tender side to you since you were the only one he liked, but this was more than that.

His hand went down your cheeks to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer. Your hand impulsively reached his waist, and you drew in for a deeper kiss.

It was passionate and fierce, yet it was filled with love. Time appeared to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment. He broke apart the kiss with a hesitant chuckle as he carefully removed his hands from your face to take yours in his, "does that narrow it down for you?"

To say you were speechless was an understatement in the least. Stuck somewhere between that unexpected kiss and the fact that he just gave you the best compliment any living thing could ever give, it was hard to find the right words.

"So you think I'm just as beautiful as Thor?" was what you stupidly went with in the end, grinning from ear to ear.

"Since you accused me of having an incestual crush on him, I do."

[vikings-til-valhalla]

I find it hilarious that, when I finally decided on becoming Asatru, I didn't know entirely what my gender was. I'd been questioning, I was between labels. And I took comfort with the Gods supporting me.

Well... some of Them.

Every time I prayed to the Æsir, I would get responses and answers (as vague as they were sometimes). If I prayed to the Vanir, I got... nothing. Literally nothing. That, or whatever I prayed for, I'd get the exact opposite.

Did the Vanir just hate me???

Eventually, as I read more texts on the practices (or what evidence of them remained) from a thousand years ago, I learned more about myself as I learned the history and tales of the Gods as well. I came out as male. And just around that same time, I learned, traditionally, Æsir worship was typically for men, and Vanir worship was typically for women. Obviously, you're not restricted by gender, or lack thereof, to who you can worship.

But the Gods were telling me, essentially, I'm a guy. Through and through. And there's no questioning it.

To this day, 9 years later, I still have never gotten a response or positive reaction when praying to the Vanir, ONLY the Æsir. Doesn't matter how many times I try, what I say or do, what I offer, it never ends well with Vanir worship for me. Just... Æsir.

But it's really a reassurance to me whenever I feel dysphoric. If thoughts or doubts ever cross my mind about if I'm a man, I just remember: even the Gods always tell me I'm a guy. The dudest of dudes. The most bro of bros.

So yeah. I got that going for me at least.

[veliseraptor]

i was not!tagged by @feralkwe and decided this looked like fun so

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

the first fic you ever published there: This was a bit of a challenge and relied on my memory because of all the fics I've posted backdated, but since I knew it was a Yuletide fic and I joined in 2009...apparently I wrote a fuckton of fic for Yuletide that year, but I think it was either The Gravedigger, Lingering On, or Memorial.

the last fic you published: I need to finish editing and posting the fic I'm stalling about and have been for the last three weeks. But as of right now the most recent fic I posted was jiggety-jig, a short little thing about Pete being very fucked up psychologically.

any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once: If I count 616 as one fandom (rather than parsing out by series) which I feel like I should, then I'm going to go with we too (three) could be glorious, my (thus far!) only Crimson Peak fic, though I'd kind of like to write more.

your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works: good god am I meant to look through the 293 (jesus) works I wrote for the MCU trying to remember/decide a favorite? I guess the answer is "yes, Lise, you chose to do this meme." I ended up pretty proud of Will to Live, I guess. It was a fun concept and I'm pretty pleased with the execution of it. Maybe I should reread that one. If I can cheat and do a series, though, I might have to choose Remember This Cold, even if not all of it is created equal - I just am proud of the damn thing, unevenness or not. It's a magnum opus of some kind.

the fic you wish more people read: I have written a lot of fics, you guys, and there's a lot of them that I wish got more attention. I decided I got to pick five, and because considering I'm clocking in at just over 1k to choose from I think I can be forgiven.

let's start with two from my current main fandoms, the people are gone and the place is empty, an a-Qing and Xue Yang AU that I'll never continue even though I kind of want to, and like a trigger (get me ready to shoot), which isn't exactly underread overall but is one of my Kinnporsche fics that's less read and very important to me personally. I'm weirdly fond of Foundling though I understand why it's not everybody else's favorite fic, since it might tread too close to Odin apologism for some. For a flashback to Supernatural fic, (and we all end up alone) remains one of my favorites I wrote for that fandom. And then there's Ouroboros, the second-person fic about Ishamael. so I'm not surprised that people don't gravitate toward that one, but I like it.

the fic you agonized over the most: There's kind of two answers to this question, and it's sort of "the work I agonized over the most because it was hard technically" and "the work I agonized over the most because it took me eight years to write and that's a long fucking time to be writing a single thing and a lot of room for me to doubt myself a thousand times." And they're not the same fic!

I'm going to stick with fics that I actually have finished, because ones I haven't I feel like "agonized over" is self-evident. And for that...might have to award this one to (speaking of Remember This Cold) we live until we die, for being in at least some ways the culminating fic of nearly a decade of writing and having parts in it I'd been planning for five solid years. It was a lot of pressure (self-induced but perceived from outside as well) to be working under.

the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort: I know there are a few of these but the one that springs to mind immediately is could be raining. Had the idea and wrote it basically in the span of 24 hours and I don't remember any agony about it.

a work you are proud of—for whatever reason: I feel like as far as my longfics go the backyard is full of bones might be my best one. It is - and if you know me, you know it's very hard for me to say this - a good fic.

tagging anyone who wants to do this one. that means you. but especially @ameliarating, @lu-sn, and @fatalism-and-villainy.