#i’m waiting for the third bad thing to happen

[kimjunnoodle]

:) the unit above me pipes burst so my apt is flooded :) it’s a great day

[babyleostuff]

HURTS SO BAD | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

summary | seungcheol calls you clingy in front of the rest of the boys

genre | angst & fluff

word count | 2k

pairing | choi seungcheol x gn!reader

authors note | if you have any svt requests feel free to write me 🫶🏼

It was the third time today your call went straight to voicemail. If not for Jeonghan’s messages that Seungcheol was at the practice, you would have thought that something happened to him.

This whole situation was very odd, Seungcheol usually picked up your phone calls, and even if he didn’t, he would always send a text saying he would call you back as soon as he could.

“Maybe it’s just a tough practice session,” you thought.

They had been practicing hard for the last couple of weeks, some of them locked up in their studios and the rest working on the choreography, spending most of their days and nights at the HYBE building.

Not dwelling on it much, you packed your bag and left for the boys’ favorite ramen place. You could bet they didn’t have a lot of proper meals during that time, so as the caring partner and friend, you took it upon yourself to take care of those hard-working boys.

As you got into your car and started the engine, you noticed the dark clouds looming overhead. The next second the patter of raindrops began lightly on your windshield, gradually increasing in intensity.

“Great,” you thought. “Of course, it had to start raining now.” Even so, you gave up on going back home for an umbrella - you just wanted to get the boys the food they needed and finally talk to Seungcheol.

As you pulled out onto the road, the rain only intensified, and your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as you concentrated on the crazy traffic you got into.

After a while, you safely parked the car before the restaurant and quickly ran inside, shielding yourself with your jacket as best as you could. Or Seungcheol’s to be more precise.

He never minded when you were stealing his clothes, always making sure to tell you how adorable you look in them.

You knew the boys’ favorites like the back of your hand, so after you quickly ordered the food the only thing left was to wait, and hope that nothing serious is going on with your boyfriend.

You didn’t know why exactly you were overthinking this so much. Surely, he had his quiet days where he needed some time for himself, so why would it be different this time?

The thing was, he always would give you a heads up when he wanted to be alone, but nothing like this happened this time.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to carry this alone?” the waiter pulled you out of your deep thoughts.

“Yes, I’m kind of used to this,” you chuckled.

Getting back to your car, the rain still pouring, you quickly but safely made your way to the HYBE building.

Being a partner of one of the most influential people in this company was certainly an advantage, and that's why getting to the dance practice room was not an issue for you.

Chan, Minghao, and Soonyoung caught your attention first, as they were probably going over some steps in the middle of the room.

Then you spotted Joshua, Jonghan, and Jun talking in the corner, as well as Mingyu, Vernon, and Seungwan arguing about something, per usual. The rest of the boys were resting by the mirrors, and that’s where you also finally found your boyfriend.

“Food has arrived,” you laughed as you saw the expression on Mingyu’s face, who was the first to notice you. Someone turned the music down, and not a second later most of the boys were around you picking out their orders.

“You’re the best,” said Jeonghan and hugged you softly. With only one last box in your hand, you turned to Seungcheol, who looked like he hadn’t noticed your presence yet.

“What is up with him? Has he been like this the whole day?” you turned to Jeonghan.

“Yeah, but I’m sure he’s just stressed,” he sighed, looking at his best friend with a bit of pity in his eyes.

You patted Jeonghan’s back and walked up to your boyfriend, crouching before him.

His posture appeared slouched, and his eyes, once vibrant and full of life, now carried a subtle hint of exhaustion, with heavy lids that seemed to be begging for rest.

The deep lines and shadows under Seungcheol’s eyes betrayed his lack of sleep, confirming your suspicions that he didn’t take proper care of himself.

“Hey, baby. I got you food,” you smiled at him, taking in the lack of his usual energy and enthusiasm.

He didn’t even look at you as he stood up and passed by you. Now this was very weird. “Cheol, what is going on?” you asked, your voice laced with concerne.

He let out a deep sigh, which could’t mean anything good, and turned around to look at you.

“What do you want me to say, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. “You come here, God knows why, and disturb our practice, which is like the last thing we want right now,” his tone was only getting angrier as he spoke.

“Thanks for the food, I guess, but we are capable of taking care of ourselves. We’re adults, it’s not like you have to look out for us all the time, you know. Trust me, we are stressed enough, and we don’t really want anyone else to be up our asses right now,” he was at the verge of raising his voice right now, which has never happened in your relationship before.

With each hurtful word coming out of his mouth, you could feel yourself getting smaller and smaller and your eyes welling up with tears, shimmering with unspoken pain.

The thoughts in your head were racing, searching for meaning or a way to process the hurtful words you just heard from the person you loved the most. You folded your arms tightly across your chest as if trying to shield your poor heart from further harm.

“What would be the best right now is if you simply left and stopped being so damn clingy. Oh, and I was actually looking for that jacket, so if you don’t mind, could you please leave it?”

The moment these words left your boyfriend’s mouth, something in you shifted. You looked at him in pure horror, not once in a million years thinking you’ll hear these words from Seungcheol.

The boys could see how your expression changed, a mix of emotions flickering across your face - hurt, betrayal, and anger. Your muscles tense, and fists clenched, you breathed hard, ready to defend yourself.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? No, but seriously,” you laughed in disbelief.

“I come here, scared as shit because you haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts, and if it wasn’t for Jeonghan, I wouldn’t even know if you were fucking alive Seungcheol,” you noticed he flinched hearing you using his full name.

“I come here with food because I know for a fact that no one in this room has eaten anything proper in a week, and you dare to call me fucking clingy? For what? Taking care of you? If I’m such a burden, why do you even want to be with me, huh?” At this point you weren’t holding back, not caring what you were saying.

“I get it that you’re tired and stressed, but I’ll never let you call me clingy for being worried about you,” your voice reflected the strength of your anger, becoming louder than usual.

You could feel your heart breaking as the last words left your mouth:

“Fuck you, Seungcheol.”

Not even sparing him a glance, you threw the jacket at him, turned around and walked out, leaving twelve stunned boys standing in shock from what had just happened.

As you got back into your car, the weight of sadness settled upon you like a heavy blanket. Your gaze was fixated on the road ahead, yet your mind could stop replaying the scene from just a few minutes ago.

The atmosphere within the vehicle felt still, almost suffocating, as the silence enveloped you from the absence of conversation or cheerful music that usually filled the space.

You spend the rest of your day on your couch, and to your surprise, you didn’t even shed a tear. You were too numb to feel anything.

Your thoughts seemed to move in slow motion, as if trapped in a mental haze and the world around appeared muted, as if viewed through a foggy lens.

Just as you were to fall asleep, covered with a single blanket on your sofa, you heard the door to your apartment open. After some shuffling in the hallway, Seungcheol appeared from around the corner.

His tear-stained cheeks glistened under the soft glow of light and you could clearly see his eyes were reddened and puffy. His facial expression carried the weight of his emotions - a mix of sadness and exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, before collapsing to the ground, sobbing quietly. Tears cascaded down his face, tracing delicate paths along his cheeks that you adored so much.

Almost as if forgetting what took place earlier today, you rushed off the sofa and in an instant wrapped your arms around your crying boyfriend. With each breath, his body quivered, his shoulders shaking slightly and his chest rising and falling in sync with his sobs.

“I don’t know what happened, I... I didn’t mean any of this, please believe me,” he cried onto your shoulder. “You have to believe me,” he whispered.

Not saying anything, you only held him closer to your chest, stroking his back softly in a loving manner, as he continued to cry.

“Cheollie, listen to me,” you grabbed his chin lightly and made him look at you. Looking at his tear stained cheeks, you felt so many emotions bubbling inside you.

“I know that you didn’t mean them, but that still doesn’t make it fine.”

“I know, it’s just that-.”

“Cheol, let me finish, yeah?” You smiled weakly at him. “I understand that you have a lot on your plate right now, and if I only knew how you were feeling I would never do anything to make it worse. I love you so much, you know that and that’s why you should have talked to me and told me you needed space-.”

“No, no, no. I don’t want space. I need you honey, I need you around, you’re the reason why I keep going on during times like these,” this time around he was the one that didn’t let you finish.

“I love waking up with the knowledge that I have the best and the most caring partner by my side. I love that you don’t only take care of me, but also the boys. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, and everyday I feel so grateful that I can call you... That you’re my...” he struggled to finish his sentence.

“Your the most perfect person and I fucked up so bad today,” he whispered those last words, slouching his shoulders almost as if embarrassed.

“You did, baby,” you sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “But nothing a cuddle session can’t fix, right?” you smiled widely, at the surprised look at your boyfriend’s face.

“You want to cuddle with me?” he said in his belief, a slight pout on his face.

“Yes, you dumbass. But later we’ll still have to talk about this. You really hurt me and it won’t just go away,” he nodded his head quickly, taking your hands in his.

“I’ll do anything to make it up for you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby,” you laughed and stroked his cheek.

“After Mingyu fought me today, I think everything is possible.”

“Wait, what? Mingyu did what?” Now it was your turn to be shocked. It had to be the first time that the giant puppy had fought back.

“Yeah, I think we should write that down somewhere. But I had it coming.” he said pulling you down on the couch.

“Oh yeah, you definitely did.”

As you nestle close to each other, the weight of the world seems to melt away. Your bodies mold together, fitting perfectly in a tender embrace. Limbs entwine and hearts align, creating a secure and comforting space, for the first time in days.

Wrapped in each other's arms, the outside world fades into insignificance. The only reality that matters is the warmth and tenderness exchanged between your bodies

[southislandwren]

My toxic trait is refusing to be late to things so instead of showing up to class 3 minutes late I am simply skipping class 😌

[beesspacedotorg]

Third Leg?

Summary: after spending time with Minho after exams, you remember something he said in the heat of the moment about your packmate Jeongin. You decide to confront Jeongin about it, because after all, what's the worst that can happen?

Warnings: sex. uh. poly ot8 and reader. more omegaverse. continuation of Dibs but can be read on its own. breeding kink?? manhandling ??? reader is lowkey a brat, uh. Jeongin's dick is huge. I actually don't know what else to add, so let me know if there's another thing I should put in here. reader is an omega but gender and genitals are unspecified as always

notes: I got possesed by a demon when I was writing this. I don't even have a breeding kink. Also if the title is bad, no. this is my first time writing Jeongin, so if it's bad no it isn't. this is his very late birthday present. Happy Birthday, King.

to read: Dibs

In most things, you try to be reasonable. It does not come easy to you, it doesn’t come easy to most people. You wish your pack would be more understanding of this sometimes. You know that’s an unfair thing to say about, to say to, your pack, but you can’t help it. You really don’t want to, you really can’t spend Jeongin’s rut with him. It’s the middle of the semester, you’re still convinced the Luna doesn’t like you, and you’d prefer not to think too hard about your relationship with anyone else. You’re comfortable with Hyunjin and you’re comfortable with Changbin. Everyone else, you think, couldn’t care whether you were around or not.

“That’s unfair to think, dove. Of course they want you around. We want you around.” Hyunjin says, he’s holding your face in his palms in a way that he often does when he talks to you.

“I know, but I really don’t feel comfortable yet, it���s only been a couple months, and it took me so long to get used to being around you.” You huff and you can feel a heat forming behind your nose. “I just really- I don’t want to spend Innie’s rut with him. I can’t.” Hyunjin hums affirmingly and swipes a finger under your eye to cut off a tear, but otherwise makes no comment about your crying.

“You want them to stop pushing,” he says, and you nod at him.

“I want them to stop pushing.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. But, please don’t say we don’t want you around. We do. At the very least, I do. Okay?” You nod at him and smile slightly as he kisses your nose, it turns into a laugh when he gets insistent, peppering kisses all over your face until you’re shoving him off and smiling wide at him.

-

“So.” You have a spoonful of cereal halfway to your mouth when he comes into the kitchen. In all reality, you aren’t supposed to be here. You only stopped by for a quick snack before you went to head into work, but then there was something at the shop so your boss told you to stay home. You’d intended to detour to the campus library instead to catch up on some homework, but between your first and second bowls of cereal you had switched out of your outside clothes to sweats and an old t-shirt, and now you’re standing three feet away from Yang Jeongin.

“So?” You set the bowl down on the counter.

“You don’t want to spend my rut with me.” You draw your shoulders up to your ears defensively. You think something in your scent must turn sour because you see Jeongin wrinkle his nose.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not mad or anything. I just wanted to know if you’d tell  me why.” You pause, picking up your spoon and stirring the milk around the bowl, listening to the clink clink clink of metal on ceramic. Something about his question confuses you.

“If?”

“Yeah, ‘if.’ I don’t want to pressure you for information if you’re not ready to give it. If you’re uncomfortable with spending my rut with me, that’s fine. If you don’t want to tell me you’re uncomfortable, that’s also fine.”

“I don’t want to tell you why.” He shrugs. You’re surprised at how easy that was.

“That’s fine. I have another question though.”

“Hmm?”

“Could we hangout, or something? Before you steer clear of the house for a week and a half, I want to spend time with you. Unfortunately,” he rolls his eyes, “I’ve come to enjoy your company and if I don’t spend some time with you I might do something drastic.” He’s slowly approaching you now, crowding you against the counter. He’s given you plenty of time to walk away or move, but you haven’t, so he continues.

“Drastic, you say.” He hums, taking your bowl and putting it in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out.

“Drastic like breaking every single door that separates the two of us just to make sure you’re safe.” He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder, nose against your neck. His hair smells like baby powder, like his shampoo that you and Hyunjin sometimes steal. You can feel him shake with laughter when your scent changes with arousal as he gets in your space.

“You’re easy.” You hit his back slightly.

“You’re mean.”

“Will you hangout with me, though? I was mostly serious.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll hangout with you.”

“Great,” he says, and you let out a small shriek as he drags you in the direction of his room. The door is halfway closed when he yells across the house.

“I call dibs until my rut starts!” You can hear the groans and complaints through his now shut door.

-

So, you spend time with him, both before and after his rut, and nobody comments on how annoying it is that you’re monopolizing his time like you thought they would. There’s a point where Hyunjin interrupts you because he wants Jeongin’s dick in his mouth, and when you move to leave, they both start complaining. (You left anyway, not being ready for that just yet, but the idea made you feel warm regardless.) 

You don’t get to spend much time with him after that though, because then you have Minho and exams flooding your vision and your senses, and while one of those things is enjoyable, the other isn’t and for two seconds you’d like your brain to be off. Just for two. That time comes and it’s as you’re waking up from your post-fuck nap with Minho that it hits you.

“You said Innie was talking about me during rut?”

“What? Sweetheart, we just woke up.” Minho is rubbing his eyes, smacking his mouth, and blinking cutely. You feel the urge to pinch his cheek but worry that would land you in hot water so you just poke it instead.

“Yes, I know, I know, but. You said Jeongin was talking about me during his rut.”

“Yes? Why do you sound so surprised? You’re our Omega after all.” You flush again at his casual claim on you, he keeps catching you off guard with it.

“He never mentioned it to me.” Minho yawns and slings his arm over your waist.

“You were busy, of course he didn’t mention it to you. Besides, you seemed so … hesitant to spend his rut with him in the first place that he probably didn’t want to mention it at all.” You frown, brows furrowing as you think about it. You move to get out of bed when Minho stops you.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To talk to Jeongin.”

“It’s too early for one, and for two. I have some things planned for us.” His hand wanders up your shirt.

“But-”

“I thought you had learned enough to stop arguing with me? Does your mommy need to teach you a lesson?” He says this, but he’s not holding you back. If you wanted to, you could leave this bed and camp outside of Jeongin’s door until he woke up. But you don’t. You don’t even know what you want to say to him, and Minho is tracing soft circles on your skin and you’re struck with undeniable want. You ease yourself back into bed.

“That’s my pretty Omega. So good for me, hmm?”

-

You don’t get to talk to Jeongin until several days later. You’re too busy sleeping like the dead for a day and a half, then Chan steals you away for a celebratory dinner date, then when you finally get the chance to talk to him, you walk into his room and find him and Yongbok making out, so you’ve had to curb the conversation for later, until now.

“Innie!” He’s slipping his shoes on.

“Yeah?” He never ties them, you notice, ties them once and then slips them on and off over and over again.

“Where are you going?”

“On a walk.”

“Great.” You walk over to him and shove his jacket off his shoulders, then kick at his feet until he takes his shoes back off, and start dragging him to his room.

“What.” He’s confused despite the fact that he’s the one who let it get this far.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Okay?” He sits down on his bed, patting the spot next to him so you can sit too.

“Minho mentioned that you talked about me during your rut.” It comes out of you in a rush. Jeongin’s face flushes red. He covers his face with his hands, his huge hands with their stupidly long fingers.

“Ah. Yes. I did. Are you upset?”

“Am I up- Am I upset?” You’re incredulous. “One of the hottest men I’ve ever seen and one of my Alphas wanted me during his rut and you think I’m upset?”

“Okay, to be fair. You didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of my rut to begin with.”

“I was new to the pack!”

“You’d been with us for three months!”

“Like I said, new!” He huffs and knocks you onto your back, laying across you in the way you’ve seen the others do to him.

“Why did you come to talk to me about it?” You flush at his question and you can hear his little chuckle. The members joke that he learned how to be mischievous from Minho and Seungmin, and you’ve never seen it more than right now.

“Oh? I see.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“Minho hyung says you like when people are mean.”

“Minho said what?!”

“I’m kidding, he refused to tell us what you two got up to, but now I know that I’m not too far off.” You grab a pillow from behind your head and smack him with it. He moves himself until your noses are touching and smiles at you. You smile back and poke around his face until your finger lands in a dimple.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” His voice is soft, low, because of how close he is to your face and he smirks when your scent fills the room. 

“You do?” You nod at him and he tuts.

“Minho’s taught you better than that.” You huff and pout at him. He laughs and kisses you.

“I’ll let you get away with it because you’re cute.” You beam at him and he smiles back.

He starts with kissing you, because of course he does. It’s soft and sweet and a little hesitant and it’s similar to the way you’ve seen him kiss Yongbok, but different from the way you’ve seen him kiss Seungmin and you’re struck with the realization that he sees you as something soft and precious. That he’ll hold you with the same amount of delicacy he uses to hold Felix and your heart stutters in your chest for a minute.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He’s pulling away, looking at you with wide eyes as your scent changes. “Did I hurt you?” You shake your head at him, pulling him close for a hug for a minute as you calm yourself down.

You’ve never had a pack before, your culture has moved away from it. You had to move from your family for school and since then you’ve been relatively alone. It’s been a while since you’ve felt loved, and when you’re faced with the sheer amount of it the eight of them have to give it overwhelms you every time. He hasn’t hurt you, it’s the opposite.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Ah, I see. Hyungs’ said you might cry a little. That’s okay. Do you want to stop?” You shake your head at him, answering with a verbal “no” after he stares at you pointedly. You lean in to kiss him again and he responds with the same gentleness he did before and you can feel yourself slicking up in your pants. You hear him take a sharp inhale and then you feel his grip tighten where his hands were resting on the side of your face and neck.

“Jesus, I can see why hyung keeps you to himself all the time. You smell so fucking good.” He stops kissing you to start making out with your neck, you can feel him starting to scent you and you tug at him, whining.

“Innie-”

“Yeah, I know, but-” he cuts himself off with a groan and you can feel his hips press into yours and dear God.

“Is that your leg?”

“No.” You whine again. There’s no fucking way his dick is that big. You tell him so.

“Well. Prepare to eat your words because it is.”

You huff at him again, and really, he should spend less time around the more sarcastic pack members because his attitude is making your eye twitch. He sees it and smiles mischievously at you before landing a soft peck right below the same eye.

“I’d like to see how you handle Hannie or Seungmin hyung. They’re worse than I am.”

“They also probably move faster than you do.” He grumbles at you at that and gets to work undressing the two of you. He’s sliding his hoodie off when you’re filled with the urge to bite his biceps. They’ve gotten bigger since you’ve been introduced to him and you think it’s crazy because you hardly ever see him work out. Suddenly, there’s a large palm against your forehead and any forward movement you had started is quickly stopped.

“What are you doing?” You can feel your teeth click together as your mouth closes and you blink a couple times.

“Nothing.” He squints at you.

“You were going to bite me, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re a liar!” You’re being manhandled now, and you refuse to go down without a fight. You grab a pillow and nail him in the face with it.

“I am not! I’ve never- don’t pull my hair- I’ve never lied!”

“You’re doing it right- why are your nails so fucking long- right now!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Did you just fucking- ow! What the hell?” You finally manage to get your teeth on his arm and it’s just as great as you imagined it would be. Your victory is incredibly short lived because between one second and the next Jeongin has you pinned to the bed. Your cheek is pressed against the mattress and he has your arm twisted in a way that’s mildly uncomfortable, but that’s overshadowed by how you can feel him pressed against you to keep you pinned. He’s all lean muscle and you can feel where his shoulders press against yours and where his cock is pressed against your ass and if you tilt your hips just right, you can feel him brush against your slick hole.

“Oh? Does my pretty Omega want something?” You can hear the laughter in his voice. You can also hear how it’s dropped three octaves and you can feel it rumbling from his chest. You can feel how his cock is starting to leak against your skin.

“Jeongin-”

“I think,” he grabs your other arm, pinning your wrists at the small of your back, “that if you want anything you should beg for it.”

“Innie, you’re not being fair-”

“I’m not being fair? You bit me. I have you pinned. If you want anything from me, you’re going to have to work for it.” You turn your head into the mattress and let out a small sob, wiggling a bit in Jeongin’s hold. His hands loosen on your wrists and he lifts his weight off of you enough that you could get out if you wanted to. Minho did this too, gave you signals with his body to let you know that it was okay to not want it, the problem is that you do. You like how Jeongin has you pinned, and you like the humiliation that’s going to come with begging for it.

He notices you haven’t moved and so his grip tightens on your wrists again. You feel the chuckle he lets out as he presses his weight down onto you again and you know your scent must be doing something because he inhales with his nose pressed straight against your neck.

“Get to begging, baby. I have all night.” You whine at that, wiggling and trying to push your hips back against his to fuck yourself onto his cock, but he pulls his hips back, readjusts until you couldn’t reach his cock unless you dislocated something and he laughs at you.

Jeongin does have all night, it turns out, because you spend a considerable amount of time with your forehead pressed into the mattress trying to will the shame that comes with wanting out of your body. At one point, he asks you if you’re alright, dropping the act for a bit and when you respond he resorts to taunting you.

He’s doing it now, taking his ridiculously large dick in his hand and gathering some of the slick that’s leaked between your legs to jerk it. You can hear the wet noises it’s making and you can’t help but think of how much louder it would be if he were actually fucking you. It turns out that your Alpha was thinking the same thing because he starts talking, and each word chips away at the lump in your throat.

“Fuck, you smell so good, baby. Your slick is so warm, I bet it’d be warmer if I got it straight from the source, yeah? What do you think? You’re leaking so much you’ve made a wet spot on the bed, maybe I should fuck that instead, since you wanna be stubborn.” You whine in response.

“No? You don’t want me to do that? I think I should. Or should I just finish on your back?” Your next answering whine is more of a wail.

“Oh, I see. You’re a little cumwhore is that it? Want me to come inside of you? Hmm? Get our Omega pregnant?” You moan this time, drooling onto the sheets. Jeongin grabs your head and turns it to the side so he can see you better, or so that you can see him and how he’s about to waste his cum on you instead of in you. The drool smears onto your cheek and you can feel your eyes start to well up with tears because you know he’s close.

“Please.” It escapes from you in a pathetic whimper and the hand that was stroking his cock pauses.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.” You know he did, but you also know that if you don’t repeat yourself and beg good enough he really will make good on his promise to finish on your back and leave you there.

“Innie, Jeonginnie, please. I want- I want-”

“Want what? Hmm? A slice of cake, a new Minecraft update?” You huff at his mocking, but it’s too wet to really hold any weight, and you can feel your lip wobbling, so you’re not surprised when what you say next is more of a sob than anything else.

“Your cock. Jeongin, Alpha, please. You said you wanted me during your rut, don’t you want me now?” It’s a low blow, and even through your desperation you know that, but you’ll do what it takes to get him to finally stick his huge dick in you.

“Oh, baby. I do. Don’t worry.” His fingers are searching for your entrance, stretching you out just enough for it to not burn too bad, but you’re so wet, and both of you are so needy, you know that you’ll just have to deal with the pain of not preparing for his stupid dick later because you want it now.

“Then,” he made the mistake of letting go of your wrists to grab your hip instead, and you ball your hands into fists and hit the bed in frustration, “why aren’t you fucking me?” He huffs a laugh.

“All that and you’re still giving me trouble? You’re lucky you’re cute, Omega. So lucky.” You start to kick your feet at him but you’re stopped by the fact that he’s slowly starting to push into you, making a home for himself inside your body and slowly forcing the breath from your lungs.

It burns, and you expected it to with how unprepared you were, but it feels good and you don’t care so that will have to be a later-you problem.

“Jesus, you feel so good, baby. Better than I imagined.” He starts a rough rhythm right off the bat, and you’re needy enough that it doesn’t bother you, besides, you’re pretty sure he was edging himself earlier, so he’s entitled to this.

“Felix hyung and I talked about it, you know. When I was in rut. You left.” The last part comes out as a soft growl, and he coughs to get himself in check before pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades.

“You left and I thought about how warm you’d feel inside. Felix wondered too, said he wanted to know how sweet you were.” You hear him chuckle. “Y’know I got him to come untouched from just talking about you, pretty baby?”

You gasp, letting out a shuddery moan at that, and you hear Jeongin laugh above you. You were already halfway to delirious with how good he was fucking you- hard enough to shake the bed and bang the headboard against the wall- but something about knowing that the pack wants you always makes you just that much wetter, always makes your head that much lighter, so you can’t help but clench down around his cock and get everything around you soaked with more of your slick.

“Jeonginnie, Alpha, I- please- I want to-”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, baby. I won’t make you beg for this one.” He presses himself down against your back, knocking your knees out from under you so you’re flat against the bed and have nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it.

“The next one, though. I make no promises.”

The new angle has you going dumber than you were before and you can feel Jeongin’s breath in puffs of hot air against your neck. You whine at him, moaning as you’re trapped underneath his body and when you come it’s with white spots dancing across your vision. You’re just coming down when you feel him start to pull out and you surprise both yourself and him with the growl that comes out of you.

“Yang Jeongin, so help me God if you do not come inside of me-” He shuts you up by doing just that, bullying his knot into you until it pops and rolling the two of you onto your sides so you’re not laying in the multiple spots of wet that have stained his sheets.

“You’re bossy.” It’s said against your hair while his stupidly big hands come up to massage the crick in your neck that’s finally made itself present. “How do you get away with that when you’re with Minho hyung?”

“I listen to him. Mostly.” He pinches you, you pinch back. You sit in silence for a minute.

“Was it good? Or, as good as you imagined?” You try not to sound insecure as you say it, but you know that you’ve probably missed the mark.

“Better. Way better.” He kisses the spot he was just massaging and winds his arm around your middle. “Nap time. You’ll need your energy when I get you back for being a little shit.”

“I wasn’t.” He scoffs at you.

“Yeah, sure. And my name is Chan.”

“Hi, Chan, how are you?”

“Cancel what I said earlier. The second we aren’t locked together anymore I’m kicking you out.” You laugh at him.

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.” 

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 

“Everyone?” 

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” 

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 

“It’s just you.” 

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 

“That’s all for me?” 

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.” 

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 

You huff. 

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 

“So… How’d it compare?” 

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 

“Better,” you whisper. 

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 

“Will you let me suck it?” 

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 

“Please.” 

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 

His little cock. 

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 

You’ll make him look, one way or another. 

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 

He says your name. 

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.” 

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 

He’s so hot. 

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 

There’s screaming. 

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 

“When can we go again?”

[faun-the-fawn77]

"𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃"

Lucifer Morningstar x F!FallenAngel!Reader

Genre: SMUT

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: oral(m! receiving), creampie, breeding, mentions of having kids, clit play, overstimulation, squirting, brief fingering, whipped!Lucifer, Lucifer being a sweetheart, reader is horny 25/8

Desc: A one night stand is a one night stand... right? What happens when Lucifer keeps going back to the same fallen angel just for a taste of Heaven? Oh no... seems the Devil has caught feelings once again!

Note: Lucifer smut;) like there isn't enough already. Requests are open now! This is third and final fic of the votes. Don't worry to those who voted for others! I will be working on all those fics:) Next after this one is a part two to "Lips Of An Angel". Just have to...find a song that will match the part two:)

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Another shitty day in Hell. Sinners were offing each other in the streets of the Pride Ring. The angelic building in the middle of the city shone brightly in the red light, the clock on each side had big letters reading ‘36 DAYS’. 

Lucifer, King of Hell himself, wandered the streets of Cannibal town, a mission in his mind. He tried to avoid Rosie ‘cause she’s a talker and would only make him late for where he needed to go after getting the thing he came to this lovely town for. He scoured the shops looking for the one thing that stood out to him last time he was here. It reminded him so much of Her. Of the one person he couldn’t get out of his mind. 

“Well, hello to our dear king! How are you on this hellish evening?” Lucifer growled lowly at the sound of that radio prick's voice. He turned to the red deer demon and pulled him down by his collar.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your theatrics today. I have places to be and things to get and I don’t need some lowlife sinner messing that up for me,” Lucifer let go of the demon’s coat and strided off to the jewelry shop he spotted out of the corner of his eye, waving behind to the overlord, “Hope you have a bad day!”

Later that evening, Lucifer turned up at his daughter’s hotel. He always came under the guise of seeing his daughter but everyone knew he came for one particular guest of his daughters. Knocking on the giant doors, he waited ‘till either his daughter or the deer prick opened up. 

The doors opened a few minutes later and Lucifer was greeted by, thankfully, his daughter’s voice, “Oh! Back again, dad? But I jus-”

“Charlie! You know I’m always here to see you! I just missed you so much that I couldn’t wait a few days!” Lucifer walked in and hugged his daughter. Vaggie stood off to the side, peering out the door for any dangers. 

Charlie gasped before smiling nervously and patted her dad’s back. She pulled away and held him by the shoulders. 

“Dad, you know I love when you visit. We all do! But uh- Everyone, especially Angel, has noticed that you only come here for a certain someone…” Charlie trailed off. Lucifer stood there silently and blinked slowly, almost frog-like.

“Ah…” He didn’t know what to say. Was he that obvious? The weight in his suit pocket seemed to weigh down on him immensely. He gripped the apple on his cane tightly. 

“Is she here?” Charlie smiled. She wanted her dad to be happy. After her mom had left them, her dad was in a slump. She checked up on him as much as she could but she could tell he wasn’t getting any better. After finding Y/N, a fallen angel just like her father, Charlie brought her with to her family home in hopes of them becoming friends. After that, Lucifer has been stopping by more than he used to. Charlie thought it was because they were good friends but after what Angel told the group last time…Charlie knew her father had fallen once again and this time harder than he fell for Lilith. 

“She’s here. Last I spoke with her, she was working on a secret project. She wouldn’t tell me what it was.” Lucifer looked about ready to bounce off the walls of the hotel lobby. 

“Well I’ll just uh- yeah…” Lucifer ran off towards the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse at the top of the hotel. He rocked on his heels as the lift made its way up to the top. He stuck his clawed left hand into his suit pocket and clutched the velvet box.

“Well, hello there, handsome.” Y/N’s voice was like smooth silk. It calmed Lucifer’s nerves down, the breath stuck in his throat was exhaled as he stepped foot into his…friend’s penthouse. He wouldn’t call her friend with the amount of times they’ve gotten intimate but, he didn’t know what else to call it. 

“Hello, darling. How is your night going?” Lucifer plopped a seat on the sofa in her living room. He watched as she rounded the island in her kitchen, holding a cup of coffee and wearing nothing but a white silk robe. 

“I’m doing wonderfully, Luci. What prompted the visit?” She folded her legs as she sat on the other end of the sofa. Lucifer cleared his throat and shifted his legs. The robe was a bit see-through which made her breasts very noticeable to him.

“Just wanted to see you…” Y/N smiled cheekily. She knew what she was doing to him. With the way she sat to what she was wearing, Lucifer couldn’t believe he had this much self-control to not jump on her.

“Is that all?” Lucifer gulped. He shifted in his seat once again and gazed away from Y/N’s intense stare. Her eyes darkened with lust as she continued to stare right at him. 

“What do you actually want, Luci?” She placed her mug down, sliding her bottom over and closer to her partner. She watched him cross his legs and grip the arm of the sofa.

“Come on, Luci. Tell me what you desire~” She ran a hand up his arm and over his chest. Lucifer watched with bated breath as she undid his bowtie and slipped the first few buttons of his shirt undone. Her fingers snuck under the shirt and touched all over his pale chest.

“Luciiii~” Lucifer felt the last thin thread snap at the tone of her voice. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down onto the couch. He roughly kissed her and made sure to slide his forked tongue between her lips and into her mouth. He heard her moan and felt her hands run up his arms and into his hair. 

Lucifer pulled away with a dazed look in his red eyes. He was straddling her lap, his erection pushing painfully against his suit pants. 

“Need help with that?” Lucifer sat back as Y/N leaned over him, running her hands from his hair, down his semi-exposed chest, and to his tightened pants. She undid his black belt and slipped it from his pants. She popped the button on his pants and unzipped the zipper. 

“Please…” Lucifer whined. Y/N looked up at him and smirked. She made sure to go slow when she pulled his pants down his legs. Her knees hit the carpeted floor when his pants did. Her soft hands slid from his ankles and all the way up to his boxers elastic. 

“Be patient, Luci.”

“God, I’m addicted…” Lucifer mumbled. He was very addicted to her. To all the things she does to him both in and out of the sheets.

Y/N hummed and brought her mouth closer towards his erection. Her breath fanned across the dampened tip and she quickly tore through his duck-printed boxers. The shreds of fabric fell to the carpet. 

“Oh, Luci…” She licked a stripe up from his balls to tip. Lucifer moaned loudly and rushed to cover his mouth. Y/N laughed, pulling his hand from his mouth.

“You can be as loud as you want, my dear. No one can hear us.” With that, she took the tip of his dick into her hot mouth. Lucifer gripped the sofa, tearing streaks into it with his claws. His breathing became laboured as Y/N made work on his cock. She swirled her tongue around the tip, her hand coming up and wrapping around the base. She wanted to antagonise him. Make him want her.

“Oh my Lord, please! Please do something…” Lucifer could feel his patience run thin. Patience was definitely not one of his virtues, if he had any left. 

Y/N hummed. She removed her hand and placed both of them on his thighs, bracing herself, before taking him whole. 

“OH, Y/N/N! Plea~ah,” Lucifer moaned. He bucked his hips up into her mouth and down her throat. He wanted to feel guilty but he was so into the pleasure that she was giving him. Her nails dug into his thighs, her moans vibrated down his length which caused him to gag her once again. 

“I-I’m sorry! You just-hah-you just are so good,” Lucifer praised. She may have been an angel but by God was her mouth sinful. 

Ohh, girl, let’s take it slow

So as for you, well, you know where to go

I wanna take my love and hate you ‘til the end

It’s not like you to turn away

From all the bullshit I can’t take

It’s not like me to walk away

It’s been a few days since Lucifer has been intimate with his partner. His friends with benefits as he has learned from Angel Dust. He was scared. Every time they’ve gotten intimate, Lucifer was on the verge of telling her he loves her. It took all it had in him to not shout it when he came. 

“Oh, Rosie. I don’t know what to do!” Lucifer plonked his head on the table face first. His glass of whiskey shook at the action. 

Rosie, the one who made sure the cannibals in her town stayed in check, patted her king on his head. She smiled down at the fallen angel and watched as he mumbled to himself.

“Honey, if you don’t tell her how you feel, then how is she supposed to know you feel this way? What if someone else sweeps her off her feet? She is nothing like that ex of yours, ya know.” Lucifer grumbled. He knew she wasn’t like Lilith. Lilith was a cold-hearted bitch who cared about no one but herself. 

“I’m trying to take it slow.”

“Is having a one night stand and then becoming friends with benefits ‘taking it slow’?” Lucifer glared at the smiling cannibal. She was right and he knew it. He sighed and dug into his pocket. He brought out the velvet box and slid it over to his friend. 

“I wanted to give her this when I confessed… I don’t know if it’s too much…” Rosie gently took the box and opened it. She gasped when she saw what it was. 

“Lucifer! This is gorgeous! I’m sure she’ll love it, honey.” Lucifer felt his shoulders sag with relief. The piece in the velvet box was beautiful. It was a silver ring detailed with leaves. Deer antlers were what held the moss agate stone in the middle. He learned from Husk and Angel that she only wore silver jewellery and that her favourite stone was moss agate. It may not have been the most expensive but he wanted it to come from the heart and not from his wealth. 

“I know she will. I just…I hate how much I love her. It’s suffocating with her not knowing.” Lucifer was still scared. Scared that she’d walk away and leave everything they’ve built behind. Just like Lilith. He knew it wasn’t like Y/N to turn away. He knew because he’d attend some of those silly exercises his daughter hosted. 

“Tell her. Let her know and don’t bullshit your way outta this.” Rosie slid the ring back to Lucifer. She watched as he breathed in deeply, pocketed the box, and made his way to the door to her shop. 

“I won’t walk away from her. Not like I did to Lilith.” With that, Lucifer exited the shop and made his way to the hotel.

I’m so addicted to 

All the things you do 

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Yeah

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite king! How are you today, my dear?” Lucifer had arrived at Y/N’s place in seconds flat after leaving Rosies. He had spider lilies in one hand and a stuffed black cat in the other. Both being her favourite things she’s seen in Hell. 

“Good! I just wanted to have a chat with you. Hangout for a bit after all the paperwork I did this morning.” Lucifer watched her eyes light up at the sight of the flowers and stuffie. She grabbed them from his hands and raced to get the flowers in some water. She placed the stuffed cat on her loveseat near her bookshelf. 

Lucifer stepped out of the lift and slowly walked towards the kitchen of her penthouse. Y/N was humming as she cut the bottoms of the flowers and placed them in the black vase. Her fingers were nimble and held the flowers delicately to ensure they didn't get damaged. 

“What did you want to talk about, sweetheart?” Lucifer took a seat at the island, snatching an apple from the basket of fruit in the centre. 

“Nothing important… uhm, how was your day?” Lucifer was nervous. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t drop the L-bomb on her. She was too important to him to lose. 

“It was amazing! Your daughter is such a sweetie! She’s helped me adjust to life in Hell wonderfully. I wish I could pay her back somehow…” Lucifer looked at the angel. This angel was of pure heart and faith. He knew Y/N was still struggling with being in Hell. He knew because he could see the way she hid behind his daughter when they went out or when she would quote from the bible only to grow embarrassed when the others looked at her in confusion. 

“She is a sweetie, isn’t she? I’m glad you’re adjusting to Hell. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable while you’re here.” Lucifer bit into the apple. Y/N watched as the juice dripped from his chin. She licked her lips, walking towards the island and having a seat on the stool near Lucifer. 

Lucifer continued to munch on the apple, not noticing Y/N’s hand creeping towards his thigh. When she made contact, Lucifer jumped and choked on a bit of the sweet fruit. 

“Surely you didn’t come here just to talk.” Lucifer felt flushed. He cleared his throat and set the apple core down. 

“I promise it was only just to talk. I know I said it was nothing important but-”

“Shh, Luci. I can see how tense your shoulders are. Why don’t I-”

Lucifer stood up abruptly causing Y/N’s hand to fall from his lap. He stepped back and sucked in a breath. He reached into his pocket and produced the black velvet box for Y/N to see. He could see the confusion in her eyes. 

“Y/N, I love you. I love you so much that the thought of you not knowing was suffocating me. I know it only started out as us being friends and delving into a one night stand that then turned us into friends with benefits. After a while, it wasn’t just the sex for me. I wanted all of you. Heart, body, mind, and soul. I wanted to feel what it was like for you to love me for me and not for my body. I hope this doesn’t scare you off but I wanted you to know how I feel about you.” Lucifer finished up and placed the small box in front of her. He was sweating profusely and his hands gripped the apple on his cane tightly. He watched as Y/N lifted the box up gently and opened it. Her eyes glittered and he swore he saw tears in her eyes.

“Luci…” Her breath was airy. Like he took her breath away.

“Luci, thank you. No one has done this much for me since I’ve been created. You don’t have to be scared ‘cause I love you just as much.” Lucifer could cry. She felt the same! He smiled brightly and bounded up to the tall angel and hugged her tightly. 

“Oh my Hell! I could bounce off these walls in happiness! Oh, I love you so much, my angel!” Lucifer could feel the vibrations of her laugh. She hugged him back just as tightly, the ring he gave her glittering on her right hand. 

“Thank you for accepting me, Y/N/N,” Lucifer mumbled into her breasts. He felt her fingers run through his golden locks as she hummed.

“No need to thank me, honey. I love you so very much.”

…

“Let’s head to the bedroom. I need to get this energy out~”

And I know when it’s getting rough

All the times we spend

Trying to make this love something better than

Just making up again

It’s not like you to turn away

All the bullshit I can’t take

Just when I think I can walk away

They’ve only had a few fights but they were only about Lucifer's work. He was the king and every time he went to sign off on a meeting paper to say he wouldn’t be able to make it, Y/N scolded him and told him he needed to go or the residents of the seven rings of hell won’t take him seriously anymore. 

She was right. Every time they went out on a date, Lucifer could hear the whispers and snickering. He was gone for years when Lilith left and everyone had assumed that he was gone. Now that he’s back and appearing more in the public eye, the sinners in Pride casted snide remarks his way. 

“Honey, a letter just came in from Ozzie. Have you always had a family dinner every month with the seven sins and Charlie?” Lucifer paled at the mention of the dinner. He hasn’t been to one since Lilith left him. Charlie had tried to get him to go a couple times only for him to turn her down and go back to wallowing in his sadness. 

“Uh- yes… yes we do. Ozzie was the one that actually wanted it to happen.” Lucifer bounced his knee nervously. Y/N hummed and made his way into the study and up to his desk. She set down the letter and looked down at him.

“How about we go? Ozzie seems to want to meet me and to introduce us to that little imp of his. This’ll be good for you! We can see family and maybe we could invite the residents of the hotel? Have the sins come from their rings and hang out in Pride?” Y/N has been encouraging him to get back into contact with his family since they’ve gotten together. Seemed she was very family oriented. I mean, she had always had him finish inside her whenever they were intimate. He had a sense that she wanted kids but she hasn’t said anything to him yet. 

“Fine. How about you write the letter back to Ozzie. Have him send out a message to the others that we’ll be having the dinner at our place. I’ll fly over to the hotel and inform Charlie.” Y/N squeaked and pulled a blank paper from her lover’s pile of papers on the desk. She produced a quill with the snap of her fingers and wrote out the letter. Lucifer was happy that she was excited to meet his family. Every time they had the petty arguments about his work and paperwork, she would ignore him ‘til she got too horny and then seduced him into bed. He didn’t want this love to be about fighting and making up with sex. He wanted it to be more than that,

“I told him that we’ll have the dinner this Friday! Make sure you mention to Charlie that I invited everyone from the hotel to be there!” Lucifer smiled as she leaned down to kiss his rosy cheek. She bounced off to who-knows-where while Lucifer sat back in his desk chair and sighed. He had to talk to her. 

I’m so addicted to 

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to

The things you do

When you’re going down on me

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Yeah

When you’re loving me

“Oh fuck! Lucifer, right there!” The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and ragged breathing. Lucifer was pounding mercilessly into his lover’s pussy. He watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head as his dick hit just the right spot inside her. Her moans echoed off the walls, her hands clenching the silk sheets beneath her. 

“Come on, baby. You have one more in you, don’t ya?” Lucifer groaned out into her ear. His stomach tightened when he felt her clench at his words. He smirked and brought a clawed hand to her pussy. His pointer and middle finger rubbing circles on her clit. She moaned loudly at the contact before she started to shake as her orgasm crashed through her. Juices squirted from her dripping pussy and coated his lower abdomen and thighs. 

“Oh fucking hell…” Lucifer moaned. His dick throbbed and he finally came into her clenching hole. His seed spilled out while he was still in her and when he pulled out he made sure to take his fingers, scoop up the mess, and push it back into her. Y/N moaned and tried to push his hand away only for him to grab it and shush her.

“It’s okay, honey. Just wanna make sure it takes…” Lucifer held still inside of her and when she calmed her breathing down, he made ‘come hither’ motions. She squeaked out and tried to squirm away only for Lucifer to pin her down. 

“One more. One more time, sweetheart. I need to make sure it takes,” Lucifer whispered. He leaned up and over her, pulling his fingers from her pussy and replacing it with his hardened dick. He saw her eyes tear up from overstimulation. He kissed her lips, holding onto her hips and slowly drove his hips into hers. 

“That’s it, sweetie. You can take it. I got you.” Lucifer whispered sweet nothings into her ear as he began to pick up his pace. His grip tightened on her hips when her pussy clenched around him. He moaned out, dropping his head onto her breasts. 

“I’m c-close, Luci! Please!” Lucifer thrusted his hips faster, making sure to hit the spot that made her see stars. Her eyes clenched shut and her hips moved to meet his hips. Her moans grew louder as her orgasm grew closer. 

“Oh, Hell…” Lucifer almost whined when Y/N tightened around his length, her moans loud as she shuddered. Her orgasm hit her full force, her pussy squirting out juices once again. Lucifer sped up until he finally released another load into her abused hole. 

“I want you to be a mama. Charlie already loves you, why not have another?” Lucifer mumbled. He dropped down on top of her, his dick still in her to keep his load inside to make sure it takes. 

Y/N ran her fingers through his messy hair and smiled down at him. He was such a softie for kids. Whenever they would visit the other rings, Y/N made sure they at least went to the circuses that were held that day to support the kids. 

“I love you, Luci.” 

Lucifer snuggled into her more and murmured out tiredly, “I love you most.”

How can I make it through

All the things you do

There’s just gotta be more to you and me

I’m so addicted to 

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to you

Addicted to you

WOOOO SECOND LUCI FIC!!! Hope I did him justice:')

Enjoy!!

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Upcoming fics!

[freedomfireflies]

SnakeBite*

Summary: The third part to 404*

The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.

But he's still good at that, too.

Word Count: 5.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”

With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.

Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.

Fuck.

Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”

Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.

Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”

You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”

Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”

Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”

“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”

He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”

Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.

“That…is not helpful.”

“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”

“I can call a repair guy.”

He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”

You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”

You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”

Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”

“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”

“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”

“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”

His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.

In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.

To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught. 

Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”

Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”

“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”

“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”

“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”

Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”

“No shit.”

He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.

In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”

You blink. “What?”

“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”

“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”

“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”

You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”

He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”

 And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.

But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”

With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed. 

You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.

In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.

But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.

“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”

You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”

He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.

You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.

“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.

With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.

You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.

Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.

In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.

The memory makes you smile.

“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”

You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”

“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”

“You’re really rude, you know that?”

“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”

You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”

“With what? Your teeth?”

You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.

The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.

Like—

“Really? An appletini?” 

With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”

He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”

Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”

“I make no promises.”

“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”

You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”

“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”

“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”

“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”

“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”

The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”

“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”

Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.

“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”

Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.

He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”

He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”

“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”

“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”

“It could be.”

“Harry…no—”

“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”

“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”

“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”

“Oh, you are so fucking—”

“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”

You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”

His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.

But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.

“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”

He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.

“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”

“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”

“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”

His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”

You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”

And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.

But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”

He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”

“No?”

His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”

“Then maybe you should.”

His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”

“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”

Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”

And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.

“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”

You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.

“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”

You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.

You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.

But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.

His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.

“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”

 The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.

You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”

“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”

“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”

He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.

However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you. 

And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.

His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame. 

You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals. 

But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.

And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance. 

You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.

But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.

His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”

And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s not funny.”

“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Well…try harder.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”

You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”

“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”

You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”

“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”

“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Well, you can’t. Remember?”

He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”

“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”

“Troll jokes. Funny.”

“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”

His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”

You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.

But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.

So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.

You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.

You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.

You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck. 

Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.

His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.

He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."

He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.

But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.

“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”

“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”

“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”

“Fine. Next time.”

And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…

It’s almost…nice? 

Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.

But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.

“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”

“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”

He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”

Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like your smile.”

You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”

He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.

But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.

With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.

But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”

“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”

He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”

He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”

“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”

You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.

The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”

“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”

“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”

“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”

With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force. 

And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.

He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh. 

His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.

And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.

You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you. 

He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at. 

“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”

You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.

He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”

You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.

But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning. 

He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.

He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit. 

The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.

“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”

And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before. 

Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow. 

And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.

“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”

And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.

Which only makes him laugh harder.

“I fucking hope so.”

Next Part:

~ Jealous*

Previous Part:

~ Off the Shelf*

~ Full 404 Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

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Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @daphnesutton

[pshcomforts]

➳ say you won’t let go | pjs.

idol!jay x fem!reader

“i’m so in love with you, and i hope you know”

synopsis: you dream that jay cheated on you, and he comforts you.

warnings/content: written in third pov. small angst in the beginning but fluffy ending! jay’s husband material! not proofread. cursing.

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 1.8k

a/n: birthday post for jay <33 and a special one for my jay stans out there :)

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: say you won’t let go by james arthur

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

2:02 ─────────────|────── -1:29

“don’t do this jay, it’s not what you want..,” y/n’s trembling voice spoke as she felt her heart shattering with every moment of truth.

was this the real reason he always came home late?

she heard her boyfriend give a scoff.

“not what i want? how would you know that when you didn’t even know i was cheating on you?” jay darkly chuckled, laughing in disbelief of her pitiful plead.

“you’re pathetic y/n… really,” he spat out with a sinful grin.

his sharp words pierced into her like a knife in the back. tears quickly ran down her cheeks like no other, feeling her body get heavier as she felt like she was running out of breath.

with a call to the heart, something shouted inside her to open her eyes, to leave this dreadful scene she was stuck in.

and she did so, but she woke up in a different atmosphere.

. *₊ ° . ☆

y/n’s eyes shot open, quickly sitting up in the dark room as heavy breaths were taken.

it was a dream, a nightmare in fact.

tears still continued to stream down her cheeks though as she tried calming herself down with a 5’11 boy shuffling around.

“it was a dream..,” she shakily mumbled to herself, calming her heart rate with its loud pounding in her ears.

the sleepy male took notice of her sitting up, small sniffles heard as she tried silencing herself.

“y/n? you okay?” jay’s groggy grumble of a voice spoke, eyes trying to make out the figure in distress.

it hadn’t been too long since he arrived home late from rehearsals, so his body was still draining him back to sleep.

she didn’t respond though. her throat was dry, voice almost too hoarse to speak with her body still shaking from the horrifying nightmare.

“hey darling, what’s wrong?” he softly murmured after taking in that she wasn’t answering back.

jay finally sat up as well with blinking eyes to get a better look at her.

“y/n?” he called out again, careful in his every movement as his hands reached towards her face, attempting to try and relieve her at once.

the girl sniffled, finally coming to meet her boyfriend’s face with soft tears and puffy lids that showed her concern.

his heart instantly sank at the sight, wondering what had happened while he was asleep.

it struck him awake, eyes no longer blinking from the exhaustion of waking up as he went closer to her.

“hey hey hey, what’s wrong love? did you have a bad dream?” jay sweetly questioned, wiping away her tears while patiently waiting for her to catch her breath from the tiring cries.

after seconds of waiting, he finally got his answer with a nod — “yeah… i had a dream that you..,” her voice stopped for a second, pain caught in her throat as she strived to finish her sentence — “.. cheated on me.”

the male’s jaw dropped once her words processed.

cheat? on someone like her?

his breath was kicked out of his lungs with the frowning thought that he would do such a thing to the girl he loved.

“y/n..,” he softly whispered before pulling her into a warming hug.

✩ ‘i pulled you closer to my chest’ ✩

it healed her in every way possible, giving reassurance that he would never dare to do anything remotely close — but even then, he knew he could do more with his words.

as they hugged, he prompted, “i would never cheat on you. i would have to be the dumbest fucking guy alive to betray a special girl who’s worth keeping like you.”

he stopped, shakily sighing as he hated his dream self for cheating. “i wouldn’t even forgive myself if i pulled that crap, please know that i promise to never make you go through that in real life.”

jays grasp around her body was tighter as the thought of cheating was truthfully striking him as well.

his girls eyes closed to reel in the loving presence of it all while smiling.

of course she knew he wouldn’t do such a thing, but the utter shock of the dream being so real had her in a trance.

“i know you wouldn’t jay, everything just felt so real.” she confirmed, rubbing his back with her hands as she was comforting him now.

the two finally pulled away after her words, tears still lightly falling down her face as the boy wiped them away again. they stared at each other, both equally melting at the sight of their idiots in love.

with jay’s hands still holding her cheeks, he pulled her closer by the tug of them. leaning in closer as well while kissing where her tears dropped, giving a comforting reassurance within each one as he let out soft whispers of nicknames he’d always call her — ‘gorgeous,’ ‘love,’ ‘darling,’ ‘my girl.’

✩ ‘just say you won’t let go’ ✩

y/n’s eyes were kept close as her face scrunched from the micro-aggressive kisses she received on the other end.

with the last kiss being on her forehead, the two tucked back into bed.

the smitten male rested his chin on top of her head as his arms were wrapped around her body, bringing her in closer for a fond matter of consolation.

y/n relaxed all at once, body feeling fatigue in the radiating comfort brought by her boyfriend.

the two stayed in the same position throughout the night, then dawn soon peaked into the curtains, awakening jay first.

he grinned ear from ear at the sight of his pretty girl still sound asleep. his hands reached out to her face and lightly moved her hair strands around, careful to not scare her as he admired her gorgeous facial features.

with small shuffle movements made, y/n’s eyes peeked open at the glimpse of jay in a messy hairstyle caressing her own hair.

“morning darling,” his deep, beautiful voice bellowed while a smile crept onto her face. “how are you feeling?”

“just great, baby.”

the two dumbly smiled at each other as they stayed gazing into one another before finally sitting up.

“last night was something, wasn’t it?” jay joked, slightly laughing at his own joke, leaving her to only roll her eyes playfully.

“jongseong!” y/n exclaimed his government name, letting the arm closest to him fly up and send a smack to the tall man.

he chuckled with the laugh, the opposite arm quickly reaching over to his other side as he uttered — “ah! my arm! you hurt it!! after what i did last night.”

she laughed at his stupid action before she automatically tried to send another hit to him, only to be stopped by her very own boyfriend.

his hands ran to hers first, getting a hold of her left wrist before getting her right when she attempted the other side.

“jay!” she whined.

his arms fully took control of hers now as she tried to wiggle her way out but couldn’t do much.

the handsome boy’s laughs were echoed throughout the apartment, smile widening with his body toppling over hers. he pinned her wrists down on each side of her head.

jay’s fluffy, black hair was now hanging down as his girl huffed out a defeated sigh once she had realized she had no way out.

his lips curled in satisfaction at his victory.

“you still gonna hit me?” he mocked, a smirk coming on as the smile left.

y/n still tried to wiggle and move around but ultimately gave up.

“jay.. this is no fun!” her whiny voice rang in his ears as he felt his heart flutter upon the thought of her.

“give me a kiss and i’ll let you go.”

she scoffed at the oldest line in the playbook.

“jay.., really? a kiss?”

but he didn’t budge with her words, just a simple nod given as he started to lean in closer.

the distance between their faces started to close once he reached further for the kissable lips.

but the girl turned away in a playful manner, leaving jay to pout as he sternly looked at her.

“morning breath…,” she murmured, using it as an excuse.

jay scoffed out a smile, flashing a smirk with her lame attempt.

“i don’t care, i want those pretty lips on mine right now.”

before she could prolong any further, he quickly crashed his lips against hers, not giving her time to think or react.

he roughly moved, pushing for a reciprocating touch but only ever so slightly to keep it sweet. his hands then let go of her wrists, one hand closer to the head and the other on her jaw to kiss her better.

y/n smiled into it, allowing her boyfriend to feel her lips curl as she loved how he kissed. her hands automatically ran to his hair, fingers roaming through each strand in return.

the two shared a sweet moment before he finally pulled away with half-moon crescent shaped eyes.

he was definitely love-struck.

✩ ‘you make me feel this way somehow’ ✩

jay quickly ran his hands to her waist, giving small tickles to her body as she was taken back by it.

“jay, no!!” she yelled, laughing and crying from the ticklish movements her boyfriend did while he enjoyed her giggles.

he laughed along as her hands continued to try and swat away the man’s hands.

“please, jay!” she yelled again, laughing uncontrollably from the continuous feather touches.

when he felt like he teased enough, he stopped with an undeniable grin plastered across his face.

the only thing heard were their giggles they shared as he couldn’t help but feel endorphins run through his body.

after her laughs ran out, she mumbled the word — ‘jackass’ — to him as a joke, causing jay to chortle out more laughter.

y/n rolled her eyes, secretly enjoying his loud laughs. he just couldn’t contain his excitement in hearing her joy.

only she could get him in this melting state.

“whatever,” she jokingly mumbled, smacking his arm again as she stared intently at the handsome man who was still uglily laughing.

after seconds, jay finally stopped with his chuckles dying out in the room.

y/n and him stayed locked in eyes, both coming to a daze of how lucky they were to have each other before he decided he would cook breakfast.

“do you need any help?” she offered.

jay furiously shook his head as he responded, “no it’s fine darling, just stay in bed and i’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

he placed a long and sweet kiss on her cheek before leaving to the kitchen to whip up something delicious.

“my forever half..,” y/n whispered as she comforted herself back into bed. her heart was full and her mind was filled with her boyfriend, and his acts of service.

she didn’t know how she was able to find someone as amazing as jay.

though the boy was an idol and had a busy schedule, he still made sure he had time for her.

he always did.

✩ ‘i’m gonna love you till my lungs give out’ ✩

they were still young, but that didn’t mean jay wasn’t already thinking of a future with his favorite girl.

✩ ‘but i wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old’ ✩

they wouldn’t ever let each other go.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[catmiemy]

New Life, Old Problems (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Summary: You're trying to fully settle into your new life in London with your girlfriend. But when you get sick your past stops you from reaching out.

A/N: Finally managed to put something on paper again! By now I have about 6 stories (some multiple chapters) fully planned out in my head, but I struggle so much with actually writing any of it. Although it's getting a bit better, so I might become more active again.

This is the third part of the New Teammate series (Part 1, Part 2 Arsenal version). Although I think you should be fine to read this without reading the other parts first. Also this was definitely helped along by @holly-wallis, who reached out to tell me she was excited for the next part. So thank you again!

You thought you were doing well. You thought you had settled perfectly into your new life in London. You thought your relationship with Leah was going great. And all this was true, but only to a certain degree. Underneath the surface there were still many gaping wounds and you had a long way to go, which would take even longer because you refused to accept it, pretending like you were already at your destination.

How hard it really was for you to fully trust anyone, even Leah, to be vulnerable around her, became glaringly obvious when you got sick. As much as you wanted comfort, someone to take care of you, you couldn’t allow it. The thought of trusting anyone so much when you were in a vulnerable state left you panicked.

However there was no hiding your sickness. Leah and you had plans that day and if you came up with some random excuse your girlfriend might end up checking on you since it was unlike you to cancel without a good reason. And sadly you couldn’t think of a single good reason why you were unable to meet up with Leah. How were you supposed to do that when you could barely muster up the energy to go to the bathroom when needed?

In the end you decided that the truth was your best course of action. The defender had been exceptionally understanding about your situation and the multitude of struggles you still faced because of your past trauma. Honestly more understanding and patient than you were with yourself.

Despite being reasonably confident for a positive reaction you still were too much of a coward to call your girlfriend, opting to text her instead. ‘This was better for your sore throat anyway’, you reasoned with yourself.

R: Le, I’m sorry I have to cancel today. I got sick.

L: Oh no! Are you okay? No wait, scratch that. How bad are you feeling? Is there anything I can do? Bring you something? Or do you want me to come over to keep you company? I’d be happy to!

You looked at the sweet and caring words, Leah’s concern noticeable even from these few letters on your phone. The urge to text back and ask the Englishwoman to come over was huge. She would take good care of you; make you feel safe and loved. But you couldn’t allow it because what if…

You couldn’t even begin to describe what was hiding behind this what if. Maybe it was actually that, the big unknown, the completely unexpected. Never in your life would you have pictured what had gone done with Jimena and the whole team in Barcelona before it had actually happened. It had left you afraid to fully let your guard down because who knew when something unpredictable would happen again. And right now you were definitely too tired to keep up any guards, so your only option was to keep everyone far away from you.

R: That’s very sweet, but I can’t…I’m sorry.

With a rapidly beating heart you watched your phone, practically hypnotizing it, scared of your girlfriend’s reply. What if this was the final straw?  As much as this possibility scared you, it was still more bearable than the alternative. At least it was an option you had already considered. You wouldn’t be blindsided by it. Plus if there was one thing you had gotten good at in the course of your life it was dealing with pain and people leaving you.

L: I understand, babe. But if you need anything please text or call me. And I’ll be right there! Take care of yourself! Sending you some remote cuddles. Love you!

Your whole body relaxed as you read this response, even some tears of relief rolling down your cheeks.

R: Thanks, darling, I will. And thank you so much for being so understanding!! Love you too!

And with that you put your phone away, buried yourself under the covers and fell asleep relatively quickly. The cold medicine you had taken before texting Leah doing its part in helping you drowse off without too much of uncomfortable shuffling. Your last thought was that hopefully you’d already feel better when you woke up again.

Unfortunately the opposite was the case. You were startled awake by a violent coughing fit that just wouldn’t stop. You thought that you could ride it out, but when it got to the point where you felt like you had to throw up from coughing so much, you forced your tired body out of bed and into the bathroom.

First you collapsed in front of the toilet, bending over the bowl, but once it became clear that you didn’t actually have to throw up, you dragged yourself into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

As long as you were drinking you were fine, but as soon as you put the glass down the scratchiness in your throat returned with full force, swiftly followed by another cough attack.

You resigned yourself to keep standing there, leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to support your body weight with only your legs, and drink glass after glass, until finally you could put the water down without instantly dissolving into a coughing fit.

At that point you were trembling because of the cold, your teeth chattering and every single bone of your body seemed to be hurting. Still you didn’t immediately crawl back into bed, instead you gathered all of the supplies you might need to ride out this cold. You filled a bottle with water, grabbed some crackers and medicine and then you decided to also get a bowl to be on the safe side should you actually have to throw up at some point.

When you finally returned to bed, your breathing was labored and you all but fell into it. You quickly buried yourself under the blankets. It did little to warm you up though and you debated for a moment to get back up and get more blankets. The idea of moving again seemed entirely impossible however.

This time it took you a lot longer to fall asleep, silent tears streaming down your face because you felt so miserable. You yearned for some comfort, for Leah’s arms around you really, and you knew she would come in a heartbeat if you asked her. Still, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t!

The next time you woke up you felt even worse and it was at this point that you realized that you needed help. Somewhere in the hazy fog of fever and misery you managed to form this one rational thought. However you had little recollection of what happened next.

You remembered staring at Leah’s contact on your phone for a while, although you couldn’t say if you did so for a few seconds or minutes or even hours. In the end you decided against calling her, instead opting to get an Uber. How you managed to get to the hospital was beyond you. You had some vague memories of a very concerned and helpful Uber driver who even walked you into the ER.

Another thing you recalled was sending Leah a message once you sat in the waiting room, slumped against the wall and shivering violently.

R: Fine. At hospital. But fine. Don’t worry!!!!

You even remembered feeling very proud of this text; convinced that it would soothe all of your girlfriend’s concerns. If you would have been coherent enough to read Leah’s answer you would have known that it had the opposite effect. You did feel the constant buzzing of your phone from when the Englishwoman tried calling you over and over again, but it felt kind of nice against you aching body, so you didn’t do anything about it.

---

“She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t texted me back, Lia! What do I do!?!”

Your girlfriend was crying as she basically screamed these words at her best friend. When she had gotten your text and couldn’t get a hold of you, she had called the Swiss woman for support and because the midfielder was known for being helpful in difficult situations.

“Okay Leah, first take a deep breath…” Lia began with a soothing tone.

“Are you kidding me?! How do you expect me to breath when I don’t know where my girlfriend, my very sick girlfriend might I add, is!” Leah yelled, feeling the need to punch something like some sort of cliché from a movie. Or even better, the blonde would have loved to have a ball at her feet right now, that she could pund with all of her strength into the back of the net. And then maybe get into a slightly too aggressive scuffle with an opponent. Just something to get rid of this nervous energy.

“You know where she is though, she’s in the hospital, so they’ll be taking care of her,” Lia reasoned, continuing quickly before your girlfriend could blow up at her again, “And fine let’s skip the breathing. Here’s what I think we should do; you pack some things your girl might need and I’m going to call the hospitals closest to her. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where she is. Then I’ll come pick you up and drive you over because you definitely shouldn’t be driving.”

Despite her earlier refusal Leah let out a deep breath, relief smoothing out the edges of her panic, at least now they had a reasonable plan. This was exactly why she had called her best friend and once the Englishwoman was less preoccupied with her fear for you she would be thanking Lia profusely.

A little later the two footballers arrived at the hospital, Lia once again taking the lead and asking about you. There was a bit of a back and forth where the staff had to figure out if they could even give them any information about you.

It was a big test for your girlfriend’s brittle composure, every second that ticked by brought her one step closer to bursting into tears or unleashing her fury on everyone that got into a five meter radius of her.

Leah managed to keep it together however, not using the healthiest coping mechanisms. The Englishwoman kept pinching herself to let at least some of the overwhelming emotions trickle out of her.

Lia frowned when she noticed, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk a full-blown outburst which might then keep them, or at least Leah, from seeing you even longer.

Finally they managed to find the right information and saw that Leah was in fact your emergency contact, something that the blonde had been telling them all along. If only they would have believed her then this wouldn’t have taken so long!

Thankfully things went quickly after that. Leah was led to your room while Lia wasn’t allowed to tag along. The Swiss woman promised that she would stay in the waiting room until your girlfriend had updated her, in case either Leah or you needed something.

Leah entered your room quietly, not wanting to disturb you even though with all the meds you had been given it was unlikely you would wake up anytime soon. Still she didn’t want to take the risk. So the defender tiptoed into your room, coming to a sudden halt once she had a good view of you.

It filled your girlfriend with fear and pain to see you so sick. You were pale, even more so than usual, almost the same color as the bed sheets. There was a tube connected to your arm, most likely to replenish you with everything you needed. You were also hooked up to a monitor, and it was a small relief to Leah that everything on it looked and sounded normal. As far as she could tell at least. Most of her medical knowledge stemmed from watching doctor shows, so that probably wasn’t the most reliable source.

After getting used to this sick, fragile version of you the blonde approached you, standing by your bedside. She looked down at you with teary eyes, gently stroking your cheek before smoothing out your tussled hair.

Your girlfriend craved more contact. She wanted to snuggle up next to you, wrap her arms around you and basically attach every centimeter of her body to yours. But Leah didn’t know how you would feel about that. Not when you weren’t awake to enforce your boundaries, not when you were in a vulnerable state which usually made you push people far away from you.

So with a sigh she pulled up a chair and sat down next to your bed, not even allowing herself to hold your hand. The England captain didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable even the tinie when you woke up.

It was about 30 minutes later that Leah suddenly remembered that Lia was still waiting for her. She rushed down to the waiting room, not wanting to leave you alone for a second longer than totally necessary.

“She’s okay, I think. Or not too bad at least. So you can go home,” Leah explained, sounding very unsure. Everyone had told her that you would be okay, all the signs pointed to it, but she would only be able to believe it once you woke up and she could see for herself. And maybe not even then.

“That’s good! I guess you want to go back now, but call me if you think of anything you need, yeah?” Lia replied, giving her friend a tight hug.

Leah nodded, before turning around and walking as fast as she could back to your room. She would have run, but had the distinct feeling that that wouldn’t be appreciated by the hospital staff. And the Englishwoman didn’t want to annoy anyone, not when she was aware that they were already breaking the rules for her by letting her stay with you way past visiting hours.

---

When you woke up you noticed with a pang of sadness that there was no warm body next to you. It wasn’t like you and Leah stayed over at each other’s place every day, but definitely more often than not. And lately every time you woke up alone you felt some dismay. Everything was just better when you got to start the day with your girlfriend.

The second thing you became aware of was that despite just waking up you still felt exhausted, drained was the better word really, and also somewhat hazy and achy. It was then that you remembered that you were sick and that you had this weird fever dream where you took an Uber to the hospital. If you would have had the energy for it you would have laughed at the absurdity of this.

However as you opened your eyes you realized with a silent ‘Oh’ that it hadn’t been a fever dream after all, you really were in the hospital. Panic bubbled up in you, but got quickly cut off before it could become overwhelming by your favorite voice speaking up, even if you didn’t like how worried it sounded.

“Babe, are you awake? How are you feeling?”

You turned around, your lips turning into a smile when you laid your eyes on your girlfriend. She had gotten up from the chair she had presumably been sitting in, staring down at you intently. The Englishwoman’s eyes were trailing over your entire body, however not in the way they usually did, this felt more clinical, like she was attempting to spot anything that might be wrong.

“Could be worse,” you replied.

Leah gave you an unimpressed look. “But it also could be better?” She double-checked and you nodded sheepishly.

“Is there anything I can do before I get the doctor?” Your girlfriend asked softly.

For some reason Leah was still standing a good fifty centimeters away from your bed, her arms hidden behind her back as if she had to stop herself from reaching out to you. If only she would! You longed for some comforting touches and maybe a good, reassuring hug from the blonde.

“Get me home?” You joked with a pleading look. You definitely wanted to get out of the hospital but you knew that it wasn’t up to your girlfriend, and she would never do anything to endanger you.

“No can do, sorry babe. Anything else?” Leah prodded, hoping you would ask her for a hug. She could barely contain herself from launching at you, but the fear of crossing your boundaries in such a difficult situation kept her back.

“Maybe a cuddle,” you mumbled so quietly and rapidly that Leah couldn’t decipher what you were saying.

“What was that, babe? Sorry I didn’t quite hear you,” Leah apologized, taking a step closer to you.

You locked your eyes with your girlfriend’s, letting all the love and concern shining in them wash over you and give you the strength to utter your request more loudly. There wasn’t even a reason to feel weird about it, you knew that Leah wouldn’t deny it, would most likely be happy to oblige.

“A cuddle?”

Within milliseconds your girlfriend closed the distance between the two of you, sat down on the edge of your bed and leaned down to gather you carefully in her arms. You both felt and heard the relieved sigh Leah let out when you were tucked into her arms.

It made you wonder why the blonde had kept her distance before, a certain guess at the forefront of your mind. And in the safety of your girlfriend’s arms you managed to ask about it without much over thinking or fuss.

“Why did you sit all the way over there?”

All the way over there was a bit of an exaggeration, but also not really. Any sort of distance between your sick self and your girlfriend felt like way too much.

Leah tried to lean back a bit to look you in the eyes, but you held her firmly in place. You weren’t ready to lose the comfort of her body on yours, even if she put now weight on you, not sure if it would negatively impact you in your current state.

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable with me being too close when you woke up. I know allowing closeness when you aren’t feeling too good is still very difficult for you,” Leah explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even though your girlfriend showed you over and over again, day in and day out how amazing she was, the level of understanding and love behind this gesture still knocked you off your feet, or it would have if you were standing. It almost made you believe fully that you would always be safe with her. Almost. There was still a tiny bit of fear and insecurity left. It would probably take a good while longer until you got rid of that last remnant and you were once again very grateful for Leah’s patience.

“Thank you so so much, love,” you whispered, pulling the blonde even closer to you.

“Always,” Leah stated, not an ounce of doubt in her voice. She would always do whatever she could for you, to make you feel comfortable, loved and safe.

Your girlfriend allowed you to cuddle a bit longer until she gently extracted herself to get a doctor. At first you were somewhat annoyed at this, you would have preferred to stay wrapped up together for the rest of the night. However when the doctor announced after a quick exam that you would be allowed to go home later that day, you didn’t mind so much anymore. The thought of going home made up for losing contact with your girlfriend temporarily.

Especially because she instantly stated that she would be staying with you when the doctor pointed out that you could only go home if there was someone around to supervise you. The way her voice sounded slightly offended that this wasn’t abundantly clear to everyone made you smile fondly.

That’s how you found yourself sitting in Leah’s car that Lia had brought to the hospital early in the morning with help from Viv and Beth a few hours later. The short walk to the parking lot had tired you out and you couldn’t wait to get to Leah’s apartment and crawl into her cozy bed.

You were half asleep when your girlfriend asked you, “Home?” Still you managed to nod and echo her words. “Home,” you confirmed.

In your drowsy and still a bit feverish state you hadn’t realized that Leah was actually asking where you wanted to go, your apartment or hers. In your mind it was already decided that you would be going to the Englishwoman’s place. You loved her apartment more than yours at this point, everything about it homey and safe.

So when the blonde announced that you had arrived and you opened your eyes from the half-sleep you had been in a wave of unhappiness hit you as you took in your surroundings. You were parked in front of your own apartment building.

Tears flooded your eyes, which you tried to blink away hastily before Leah could spot them. It was stupid to be upset because of this, it wasn’t like your apartment was bad or anything, you were just really craving the comfort of your girlfriend’s place. Where everything smelt and felt like Leah.

Of course the defender detected your distress instantly. She had been watching you like a hawk ever since she had gotten to the hospital last night.

“What’s wrong, babe? Does something hurt? Should we go back to the hospital?” She asked you in rapid succession, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice calm and steady.

You shook your head, mumbling that it was nothing. To emphasize this point you reached for your seatbelt, determined to get out of the car and into your apartment without any more of a hassle. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter that you had wanted to go to Leah’s home. Everywhere was better than the hospital anyway.

Leah didn’t give up so easily though. She put her hand on yours lightly, not taking a hold of it however, leaving you the option to pull it back if you wanted to. You didn’t, just this small contact made you feel better instantly.

“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” your girlfriend begged, her eyes looking suspiciously wet.

“It’s stupid,” you waved Leah off.

“Please,” Leah asked again, demolishing the last of your resolve to keep this to yourself.

“I really wanted to go to your place,” you explained, rushing to add, “But it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go inside now.”

Again you tried to make an attempt to leave the car, and again Leah stopped you with a gentle touch.

“We can still go over to my place if you prefer,” she offered, already turning her car back on.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m just being silly,” you argued, but Leah just reached over to buckle you back in and pulled out of the parking space.

You didn’t have it in you to continue arguing. Plus you were too happy at the prospect of getting to go to your girlfriend’s place after all. So you just leant your head against the car window, letting your eyes flutter shut again.

“I thought you said you wanted to go home,” Leah said before you could fully fall asleep.

“I did, but I meant your place,” you answered tiredly.

“Oh,” your girlfriend exclaimed, her voice heavy with emotion. The idea of you thinking of her apartment as your home meant a lot to Leah. Every once in a while she couldn’t help but worry if she was doing enough to help you move on, to be the best girlfriend possible, to make you feel loved and safe. So this undeniable confirmation that she had been succeeding in all of these aspects meant the world to your girlfriend.

When there was no more reaction from you after this, Leah glanced over, smiling when she saw you sleeping soundly. You looked so young and open and vulnerable when you slept. Leah cherished the fact that you were comfortable being like this around her, that wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago.

[ameliathornromance]

Once a year, the Clan held a fun rough-housing tournament. It’s nothing serious, just something fun for all the Orcs to do during the Summer. Injuries were normal, but it was always done in good faith and there was never any bad blood by the end of it.

And for some reason, completely beyond your Orc Boyfriends mind, you decided that you wanted to join in for this year.

“No.” He had said, the moment you expressed interest in the tournament. “You’ll be turned into a blueberry pancake.”

“No I won’t.” You had replied. You gave a few playful jabs at his toned stomach. He barely felt them, “see? I can land a few good hits. There are humans who fight Orcs all the time.”

Your Orcs’ arms crossed his chest, scowling down at you. “I’m serious Love. Those humans you speak of are trained for years to hunt down Orcs.” He scoffed, “they use dirty tricks and have no honour.”

You sighed, frowning. “It looks like fun.”

“Your idea of fun is strange.”

“Says the Orc who participates in a yearly fighting contest.”

Your Orc held this information from you, but in his opinion, if you were given the proper training, you could easily body several of his others without breaking a sweat. You have the determination to do it, it’s just the physical strength you would have to make up for.

But the thought of you getting hurt in the process – which you would, Orcs do not hold back, even when rough-housing – made his stomach churn with anxiety.

A few days go by, there’s nothing particularly abnormal about them. The only exception being that, you came to bed, later and later.

Your Orc would always hear the sound of the tent flaps opening and closing, the pressure of your weight on the side of the bed. He didn’t know what you were up to, and when he questioned you about it after the third night, you brushed it off: “Ah, some of the cooks needed help with prep for next weeks meals. Y’know, with the tournament coming up and all that.”

Soon, the night before the start of the tournament came and he was alone. He was waiting for you to come to bed. He always fell asleep faster when you were with him and given what was going to happen the next day, he needed to be at his best.

A couple of minutes past from your usual arrival time, causing your boyfriend to sit up and watch the tent flaps. And then, as he yawned, the tent flaps opened and in you walked.

All tiredness vanished from your Orc in an instant. Your face was bruised, your nose a river of blood. You panted hard as you locked eyes with your Orc Boyfriend.

He froze, unable to believe what he was seeing.

You raised a hand as he shot up, “what happened?” He asked, immediately. Rage began to burn bright and hot in his chest.

“Baby I know what this looks like-”

“Who did this to you?” He cut you off. He took your head in his hand and turned your head side to side, examining the injuries in the low candle light, “why didn’t you shout for me? Did you leave the camp? You know you shouldn’t at this time of-”

“No!” You snapped. Your outburst caused your Orc to retract his hands away from you. “There’s a perfectly good explanation for this.”

His scowl didn’t move. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know you said that I shouldn’t be training for the tournament… But I asked Grok to show me how to fight.”

“Grok!?” Your Orc snapped. “Grok the Bonebreaker?!”

Grok the ‘Bonebreaker’ as humans called him, known for leaving human hunting parties with their bones shattered, but alive enough to be heard screaming for help. Grok was the strongest of all the Orcs in the camp.

He knew his own strength, why would he beat you so badly for training?

“He’s been running me through fighting drills for the past few nights… Tonight he told me to come at him with every thing I had.”

Your Orc Boyfriend had heard enough. He went to move past you, to find Grok and beat the hell out of him. You were just a human being and a woman on top of that, how could he have been so harsh on you?!

“Baby, stop!” You threw your hands out in front of him, “let me finish!”

Your Orc stopped, “no, someone has to teach him a lesson for being so dishonourable-”

“There’s a small problem with that…” You spoke, quickly.

The Orc stopped, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

He stared at you, waiting for his answer. What he didn’t expect, was a large grin to spread over your face, eyes glinting with triumph. “Grok is already in the medical tent being seen by the old man because I beat the shit out of him.”

Your Orc’s jaw dropped. He stared at you. "What... How..."

You weren’t strong or tall by any means, you didn't even really have any muscle. Your Orc wanted to be angry, be upset with Grok that he hadn’t held back with you… But all that was overcome by sheer pride.

Your Orc Boyfriend stumbled back, clutching onto his head as if a headache had attacked him. A small chuckle arose in his throat, that then turned into a burst of laughter.

He swept you up in his arms. You gave a yelp of surprise, throwing your arms around your boyfriends neck.

“I can’t-” He pressed his forehead against yours, his laughter dying down, “I can’t believe that I thought you wouldn’t be able to fend for yourself in a fight! Yet here you are, alive and breathing after taking on Grok the Bonebreaker!”

Squeezing you in his arms, he lowered his voice, “this,” he says, “this is why I chose you as my partner, my love.” As he planted a kiss on your cheek, he set you down on your shared bed and sighed.

He took your hands in his, looking down at them settled in your lap. "I'm sorry I didn't think you would..."

"Baby, it's fine." You smiled, making him look up at you. "I understand what you mean now and I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was doing," wincing, you grazed your nose with your finger. "I think I'll stick to just watching the tournaments from now on."

Relief washed over your Orc, earning another chuckle from him. He sighed, contentedly. “I’m going to kill that Bonebreaker bastard tomorrow.”

He’ll be bragging about this ‘til the end of time – his girlfriend, the human woman, was able to land Grok the Bonebreaker in the medical tent.

Patreon

[adventuringblind]

i’m a sucker for anything with protective charles, i feel like he would always be looking out for his gf or wife…ugh just the thought? 🫣

Car Crash and a Ferrari Mishap

Charles Leclerc x Driver!reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Request: yes and I am also a sucker for this.

Summary: even though Charles knows she drives one of the fastest cars in the world, he can’t help but worry.

Warnings: car crash, injury descriptions, protective Charles, ferrari race engineers not doing their job

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

It had become a typical thing for Charles to worry. He worried more than people thought he did. His lover, however, knee everything about it because he was mainly worrying about her.

He'd lost so many people in his life already. He struggled with separation anxiety and would panic every time she got sick.

It didn't matter that she's a driver for Ferrari. It didn't matter that she's one of the most talented athletes. He worried about her.

Their relationship was public. Mostly because Lando struggles to keep things tight-lipped. It was a great thing, though, as their team had found. Marketing and content wise, they did some things together that everyone adored.

Working in a male dominated field meant dealing with uncomfortable questions. Ones that.nade Charles' skin crawl. He didn't hesitate to jump in and answer them himself. Sometimes, he and Max would use as a way to banter with each other, effectively angering the reporter or journalist.

Races were always terrifying before he got in the car. He made sure that he saw her before every race and kissed her good luck. Reminding her not to be reckless.

This race happened to be ridiculously hot. It felt like he would melt to the floor every time he stepped into the sun.

He found her before the walked to the grid. "Mon amour, are you sure you can race like this?"

She'd already been feeling faint. She hadn't told Charles, but the team had been controlling her water and food intake. They wanted her weight exact, and she had been over that a few days ago.

He could tell she wasn't feeling well. He always knew when someway off. Regardless, she just smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

It took a few laps before she tried for water. Dissapintment flooding her veins as she got nothing.

"Is the water system not working?"

"Negative, keep pushing."

She sighs in frustration but keeps going. Pushing her hardest.

She was almost there. Fifteen laps left. Her mouth terribly dry. Her mind shut down more with each lap. She needed to finish.

She'd stopped sweating. Her body lacks the required liquids to do so. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Then everything went dark.

~

"Red flag Charles, red flag." Xavi announces from the radio.

Charles slows down the car. Hot and tired. He was excited to finish the race, and now he'd have to wait longer.

He pulls into the pits. He was expecting to see her there already. As far as he was aware, she was ahead of him.

He climbs out of the car, immediately asking about her. Nobody could give him a straight answer.

Five minutes and still nothing. Then the replay of the crash came on the screen.

Her body going limp in the car. Her foot is still accelerating down one of the straights. She hits the corner, and the car is spinning. Then nothing.

It looked bad. He knew it was bad. Words of frantic French and Italian leave his lips.

It takes Pierre, Max, and Lando holding him back to keep him in the pits. He was screaming at the race engineers. Asking how that could have happened.

He's kicking and screaming like a child as the boys drag him back to his room. His performance coach tried to get him to slow his breathing. Still fresh off the adrenaline from driving.

"I don't understand." He sobbed.

"She didn't have water." Andrea confesses.

Charles pauses. His brain fitting together all the peices. "Have they been trying to get her to lose weight?"

"Yes, which is odd, I was talking to her coach, who said she was already under what she deemed the lowest weight that was still healthy."

Oh, Charles was furious. It made sense now. Why she'd been so exhausted this past week.

He stormed out of the room. Angry words be yelled at every engineer.

Pierre was translating to the boys who don't know French. All of them also getting angry.

"I retire the car." Charles states. Grabbing his helmet and running out to the crash site.

They still hadn't gotten her out. The front of the car has been smashed in. They had cut the halo off, but her body was jammed at a weird angle. A stray peice of metal had found its way into her arm. Her neck already looked bruised.

Charles was a wreck at this point.

The Marshall's used him as a navigator. He was able to get into the cockpit and move things around. It felt like forever until he was riding with her to the medical center.

He pulled her helmet and balaclava off gently. The white fabric dotted with specks of red.

He held her hand and sobbed the entire ride.

~

He wasn't doing much better when people came by after the race.

He was teary-eyed and nauseous. The nurses kept refilling his water. It felt horribly ironic.

He knew he disappointed his fans. They wanted to see him race, and here he was. Crying over his lover in the hospital.

He just needed to see her.

Sebastian came to see him first. Though he was followed by the one person he really didn’t want to see. Seb and Mattia were talking in hushed voices. Seb looked two seconds away from punching him.

“I don’t want to see you.” Charles announced to his team principle.

“I came to see if she’s okay.”

Charles was going to unleash his anger on the Ferrari principal, but the doctor calling her name interrupted him.

“How is she.” Charles voice was definitely more panicked then he would’ve liked but it was to much effort to hide it and there were no cameras here anyways.

“The bones in her calves are crushed. The cut in her arm has been stitched up but we might need to open it up again to check for any missed metallic bits. Just to air on the side on caution and avoid any infections. She has a severe concussion and is severely dehydrated.” The doctor attempts to explain to him, but Charles is trying to stop himself from panicking. “For what it’s worth, it could have been much worse.”

Charles is brought back to earth by Sebs hand in his shoulder. “You should go see her.” His former teammate nods him along.

~

Charles sits on the uncomfortable plastic chair. His mind wanting to stay awake but his body giving out.

She looked so peaceful sleeping. Her chest rising and falling in even motions.

He almost missed her eyes fluttering open and her hand squeezing his. Charles was standing in a second, trying to stop her from moving to much.

She was panicking. Her heart rate increasing dramatically. Charles sat himself in the edge of her bed. His hand running across her hair.

"The race. Oh god- I'm so sorry."

"No, don't think about that. Just rest." Whoever told her to push so hard without water should be fired.

"Did you win?"

"No, but I don't care. I care that you're awake a safe."

She hums at him. The feeling of his hands bringing a calm sensation back.

"Charles, it hurts."

"I'll go grab a doctor. Don't try to move."

He's out of the room in a flash. Only coming back when he has a nurse in tow.

They up the pain meds and bring her some water. The IV fluids are already helping, but her mouth is so dry that she needs to drink it.

Charles is attentive. He barely leaves her side unless it's absolutely neccecary.

~

[kjdkive]

couple questions with vogue — jjk.

summary: yn, world-famous model and jungkook world-famous artist are invited as a couple to answer some questions for vogue on a video. both known to be a chaotic couple are expected to show their competitive side.

pairing: idol! jungkook and model! yn (afab)

warnings: cursing, some dirty jokes? jungkook being the best boyfriend ever i want him so bad, third person narration

a/n: thinking about doing this for some other bts members but not really sure lol let's see how this one goes and go from there. also i used to be a wattpad writer and there we use — not " and i actually hate writing dialogues with " oh and also i mention a few things that are not true about jungkook but this is my universe and in this universe that happened yn happened

— hello, vogue! i’m yn and it’s so nice to be back here — yn says to the camera. 

— hello, i’m yn’s boyfriend, jungkook — jungkook says, smiling to the camera — i am also in a band but not that that matters. 

— i’m your fianceé, babe, remember? — yn lifts her left hand to show her engagement ring.

— she’s my soon-to-be wife, guys — jungkook giggles and stands up from his seat a little to give her a short kiss on her cheek.

— okay, my boyfriend’s humble as you can see but we’ll see if he’s a good boyfriend/fiancé because we’re gonna do the couple questions challenge! — an assistant hands her some cards with the questions on them — are you nervous, babe? 

— not at all, i actually think i’m gonna crush you — jungkook responds. 

— confident much? — yn asks. 

— dude, come on, let’s go, i’m ready. 

video cuts abruptly to the intro, showing a few pictures of the couple and jungkook’s seven playing in the back. 

question no.1 for jungkook: how did you first meet? 

— it was at a party in L.A. — jungkook replies — june 28th, 2017. she was wearing a black dress and her favorite manolo heels because she told me that the same night, also her purse from a special chanel collection because she told me it gave her luck. 

— it definitely did, baby — yn couldn’t stop smiling — it made me met you, so bless the chanel bag. so, answer’s correct! 

— ever since that night i fell in love and my band members were sick of me talking about her. 

— just want to say that it took him two months to ask me on a date — yn laughs — like i literally said no to a few guys in those two months because i was waiting for him to ask me out and when he did i just told him “finally, bro.” 

— you guys don’t understand, she was and still is too pretty for me — jungkook whined, making yn laugh — i thought she was gonna say no and also tell me that she doesn’t date ugly guys? 

— weren’t you literally like on the top 5 of the hottest guys of the world? — yn asks him and he stops. 

— i think i was? i don’t remember. 

— of course you don’t, darling. next question. 

jungkook: 1 

yn: 0

question no.2 for yn: who initiated the first kiss? 

— oh! oh! this one’s good — yn says — i did! and it was a mess.

— no, you didn’t — jungkook tells her. 

— oh, yes, i did because you were shaking when you grabbed my face and you literally froze so i was like “well, let ME do this” and then i was the one to grab your face and kiss you — yn points at him. 

— okay, fine, i did froze but you tasted like fish — jungkook starts — and although i love fish, tasting it from someone else’s mouth isn’t that delicious. 

— you had just taken me out to eat sushi! what were you expecting? — yn asks him — besides, you tasted like banana because you had to eat your banana dessert of course. 

— guys, if you ever go out on a date and you think you’re gonna kiss ��� jungkook looks at the camera — do not take them to eat fish or pasta because else they’ll get pesto on their teeth or their breath will smell like fish. 

— oh, right — yn laughs  — in one of our dates you got pesto on your teeth. 

— stop, i don’t wanna remember how you had to get me a tooth pick cause i couldn’t get it out — jungkook rolls his eyes and yn keeps on laughing at him — if your girl gets you a tooth pick, marry her, that’s what i’m gonna do in a few months — he winks at the camera and laughs at yn blushing. 

jungkook: 1

yn: 1

question no.3: which songs did jungkook write about yn? 

— now this is a good one because you always get confused — jungkook laughs — which songs did i write about you? 

— still with you, dimple, love maze, home, seven the explicit and clean version — yn winks at the camera. 

— babe! — jungkook blushes and giggles.

— oh, so you can be no.1 on billboard, mind you the explicit version but your girlfriend can’t talk about it? 

— don’t get off topic, finish the list — jungkook laughs again — and you’re my fiancée, not girlfriend. 

— okay, fine — yn moves on her seat — your part in my universe, dna, paradise, best of me, my you and that’s it. 

— WRONG! — jungkook yells at her and stands up from his seat to jump and laugh at her — you’re a loser! 

— jungkook, what? i got them all correct! shut up! 

— you forgot the one i have performed the most! — jungkook stands in front of the camera — vogue subscribers, my wife doesn’t love me. 

— oh my god! — yn yells — i forgot euphoria and jesus christ, jungkook, sit down now, stop being dramatic. 

— how dare you forget the amazing and unforgettable euphoria? 

— i’m sorry, my love, please forgive me for i have made an awful mistake — yn holds his hand. 

— i shall forgive you. 

— thank you, my king. 

— i love you — jungkook kisses her hand and doesn’t let go of it — but i’ll never forget this. 

jungkook: 1

yn: 1 

question no.4: what are the top 3 celeb crushes of yn? 

— this one’s so easy — jungkook says — it’s matthew mcconaughey, chris evans and bradley cooper but as his character in the hangover. 

— wrong — yn laughs. 

— yn, you know i’m not wrong, those are your top 3. 

— babe, you’re a celebrity too, you’re my no.1. 

— don’t lie, yn, i’m not your celeb crush. 

— yup, you’re right — yn gives up — he got the answer right, whatever, next question. 

jungkook: 2

yn: 1

question no.5: when jungkook first started as an artist, what did he do to calm his nerves when he performed? 

— I PRAYED — jungkook yells before yn can say her answer — I PRAYED AND I PRAYED. 

— he didn’t — yn looks at the camera with a serious expression. 

— YES, I DID — jungkook sits back on his seat — I DID. i did. 

— can you shut up now? — yn asks him — he used to- — yn gets cut off. 

— PRAY. HE USED TO PRAY. — jungkook yells again and all yn does is stand up from her seat and put her hand on jungkook’s mouth. 

— he’s licking my hand right now but i couldn’t care less — yn still had a serious expression — he used to touch his bandmates’ butts and when they would question him he’d say “nothing better than your butts, you guys!” 

— she’s wrong — jungkook says. 

— jungkook, ew, you left my hand freaking wet — yn wipes her hand on jungkook’s shirt — and yes, i’m right, you can call up jimin and he’ll tell you i’m right. 

jungkook: 2 

yn: 2 

question no.6: yn has a scar and has had a broken arm, how did both happen? 

— on her chin — jungkook replies fastly. yn nods and lifts her head to show up her chin. — that’s like the only one from an ugly accident the other ones are just her being silly cause she has some scars, blame of our cats when she tries to shower them and another one from when she was trying to make some chicken nuggets on the air fryer last month and she burned herself.

— he’s correct. 

— the broken arm… she told me she was playing outside when she was in kindergarten and she fell and broke her arm, she also told me the school didn’t call her parents right away and waited until her grandma picked her up from school but she took her to the hospital right away. sadly, they didn’t sue the school because they’re good people, the teachers weren’t. 

— that story is also correct. 

— ugh, so tiring being the best boyfriend/future husband out there — jungkook sighs. 

jungkook: 3

yn: 2 

question no.7: how many tattoos does jungkook have? which one was for yn? 

— jesus christ — yn says — i kid you not, jungkook doesn’t even know how many he has himself. 

— i don’t know the total number but i do have a close number, if she reaches it she’ll get the answer right. 

— fine, uhm, the eye he had before was my eye but i told him to cover it because it was done really bad like the eyelashes and the color were a mess but there are other ones about me, the thunderbolts and the flower on your elbow, right? 

— yes — he nods with a smile. 

— and i think, you have a total of 21? 22? with the new seven tattoo behind your ear i think so, yeah. 

— she’s not close in the number but she’s right about the tattoos about her — he smiles at her. 

jungkook: 3

yn: 3 

question no.8: what are yn’s favorite hobbies? 

— reading, learning languages and trying out new restaurants everywhere she goes. 

— that is correct. 

— she’s currently reading beach read but her favorite book is the portrait of dorian gray because my girl is into classics but they have to be a little gay; she speaks 4 languages those being english, italian, korean of course and french. the latest new restaurant she went was momofuko ko here in new york and she loved it.  

— i love you — yn couldn’t stop smiling as she got close to jungkook to give him a little kiss.

— i love you more — he said, after kissing her back. 

jungkook: 4 

yn: 3 

question no. 9: what is jungkook’s pet peeve? 

— damn, he has a lot — yn laughs — but i can name a few. 

— i don’t have a lot! 

— oh yeah? — yn asks and then turns at the camera — jungkook can’t eat if he notices people being loud while chewing but he is the loudest chew-er ever, he gets mad if whoever is driving doesn’t know how to park and oh! he despises when people walk slow but he had to be patient with me because i am a slow walker. 

— she’s really slow but since i love her i can be patient with her. 

— thank you, means a lot. 

jungkook: 4

yn: 4 

question no.10 (final question, decides the winner): if yn hadn’t been a model, what would’ve she been? 

— oh, my girl’s born to shine — jungkook holds her hand — because she wanted to be a UN ambassador when she was young because she loved learning languages. 

— oh my god, i did! — yn intertwines her fingers with jungkook’s — but i don’t even remember telling him about this. 

— you said that on an interview but you also said that to me when we were on one of our first dates — he smiles at her. 

— i did? 

— you said you saw it on tv — jungkook nods — and that you wanted to travel the world like them. but now you travel around the world as a model, either way you were gonna be successful. 

— reached full success now that i’m marrying you. — yn kisses him — i guess you won. 

the interviewer behind the camera asked them if they wanted to say anything else before finishing the video.

— my soon-to-be husband has released a song called seven, not that it needs promotion because the song's killing it but if you haven't listened to it you should, the song saves lives.

— yeah, i released a song, i wrote it and it was just for her — jungkook smiles — my girl is also releasing her own clothing line so make sure to check that out too — jungkook points at the camera — and before we finish i want to say i won, yn lost — jungkook looks at the camera with a serious expression — vogue subscribers, i am here to tell you again that yn is a loser and i will write on my wedding vows to always call her a loser until death do us apart. 

yn hits him on his arm and jungkook giggles.

— i hate you, jungkook. 

— i love you too, my sweetie cutie pie, come here.

jungkook brings her in for another kiss.

— thank you, vogue! see you next time — jungkook says while squishing yn's cheek with his own cheek.

— save me — yn mouths.

and the video finishes.

[rottenblur]

National anthem|A.ANDERSON

College football! Abby x reader| 2.3k

Summary: Being dragged to a football game by your best friend wasn’t something new, but Abby breaks out in a fight with another player, you just happen to be the one to come to her rescue. Would you have done it all over again if you knew what was going to happen in your dorm that night?

Warnings: smut violence for a second, abby being taken (doesnt last long), alcohol use, fluff sort of, thigh riding, kissing, choking for two seconds, patching up abby, past abby being a asshole lowkey, abby being a air forces wearer.

She was a true american. Long blonde hair, a scholarship for college football, to be the best quarterback in the state. An expensive car, a doctor for a father, daddy’s money.

Abby had boys half her size all over her, too bad for them they weren’t her type, led alone she was taken. Abby had her bitchy, short, brunette girlfriend. You always thought of her as a small dog that never stops yapping.

You knew Abby due to your only other friend, the only other non snobby person at this school. She made you go to all of the football games played at your school, if they weren’t there she would drive the two of you wherever they were playing

She says it’s because she really likes football, you knew it was because she had a crush on the masculine linebacker.

You walk with her out of the cafeteria after paying an outrageous amount for an inappropriate amount of food. She turns her head to look at you. “I’m really excited, this is their enemy school.” You roll your eyes at her.

“When are you gonna admit it’s just because of that linebacker?” You said to her, as she starts speed walking, you say her name and she just flips you off.

You arrive at the game, sitting on the third bleacher from the top, your friend searching for her girl crush on the side lines.

She doesn’t find her but she sees Abby’s girlfriend sitting on her phone on the bottom bleacher. “Oh my god, of course she’s here. Does she ever leave her alone?” She was right, fucking lap dog never went anywhere without Abby. Always following right behind.

Sometimes Abby looked annoyed like she wanted some space, sometimes Abby’s hands where all over her, on her waist, her hips, in her fucking back pocket.

It pissed you off, was it jealousy? Fuck no you could care less about Abby. Yeah you had a crush on her when you first arrived on campus, her a year older she was settled in, confidently strolling around campus it was so fucking attractive to you. She knew who she was already.

After going to a freshman welcoming party at a frat, where you talked for the first time, the lust quickly turned to hatred.

You were waiting in line for the bathroom on your third drink, tipsy but not quite drunk. She came up behind you, also waiting. You stood leaned against the wall clutching your drink, she looked you up and down. “Hey.” You said to her, she looked into your eyes. She was dressed in a t-shirt, black pants paired with white air forces, her hair messily down.

“What’s up?” She said then looked around. You clutched your drink tighter, she looked so fucking good, her sleeves were begging for life, arms too big for it. “I'm good, you new too?” You tell her your name, she repeats it and you nod. “I’m Abby, not new.” She walks up to the door, leans in to listen. “Fuck, get the fuck out. go fuck in your dorm.” She says as she pounds on the door.

Your eyes go wide, it was very forward of her. Too forward? They walk out, a guy and her soon to be girlfriend, this is when you met her too. “God you’re fucking rude.” Abby grabs the back of her shirt, she must have been drunk for her to get physical over such a little thing.

She turns around, now looking up at Abby. “You always such a rude fucking whore?” She asks, the girl looked like she would rock her shit, except Abby would knock her out in one hit. She apologizes under her breath then walks away.

After that you thought Abby was too intense. Believe it or not her and Abby’s relationship was the same then and now, they still fight and argue except they fuck it out. How did you know that? Your friend or should I say best friend’s dorm was right next to Abby’s. She heard them fight then fuck almost everyday.

At least it sounded like she was good at it. One night you slept over to her’s around two am they argued, then fucked it out. You could hear the moans from down the hall, if Abby’s dad didn’t donate so much to the school she would probably be kicked out.

The game goes well, you actually started to learn how football worked with the amount of games you had been dragged to by your best friend. She hadn’t even talked to the girl, it was kinda pathetic, you would never tell her that though. Around the end the enemy team was one point away from winning, Abby tripped, losing the ball. The other team won.

You put your head in your hands in disappointment, your friend tapped your shoulder. “Are you good? What’s wrong?” You look up at her in disbelief. “They lost.” You point to the field, she widened her eyes. “Really? Why?” She says. You roll your eyes.

“You are funny.” You say that get up, following the crowd in leaving. You're on the ground next to the field when you look over, Abby is approaching a girl with her hands out screaming about her tripping her or something. She was fuming, maybe she didn’t get so mad that one time just because she was drunk. Maybe she was always like that.

Her girlfriend walks over to diffuse it, Abby pushes her aside and starts swinging on the girl, it’s not like she wasn’t defending herself Abby was getting roughed up too. When you saw Abby spit out blood and keep swinging, that's when you decided you’ve seen enough.

You walk back to the dorms, your friend already left when you stopped for entertainment. You put your headphones in, walking at a comfortable pace till you stop at the vending machines, right at the dorm entrance.

You took an earbud out when you heard footsteps behind you, looking behind that’s when you saw her. She looked horrible. Her braid had come undone, her nose bleeding in two spots, a dribble of blood dried on her lip. God she was going to have a black eye tomorrow.

“Holy fuck, are you okay?” You say to her, she looks at you and for a moment she has a soft look in her eye. “‘M okay.” You walk up to her, putting a hand on her arm and analyzing her face closer. She didn’t resist.

“No you’re not. Let me clean you up, I have some stuff in my room.” She looks around, looking at her shoes then you. “Fuck it.”

She walks up with you to your dorm, you open the door for her, her following behind you. It was the first time you had seen her walk behind someone before, she was always leading the way no matter who she was with.

“Sorry if it’s messy, been studying like crazy the past week, haven’t really had time for anything else.” She strugs, sitting on your bed, kicking off her shoes. You gather the tossed about medical supplies you had. Some gauze, bandaids and alcohol. You grab a soda out of your mini fridge for her eye.

You hold it out, putting it on her eye. “Hold that, don’t have any ice, sorry.” She smirks, you sit on your desk chair, scooting to the edge and wheeling it infront of her.

You tuck one of your legs in between her spread legs, your knee inching away from her crotch.

“So what happened?” You ask her as you pour some vodka on a patch of gauze. “Shit, alot.” You roll your eyes, dabbing around her wounds to remove the dried blood. You accidentally touch the gash on her lip, she flinches and lets out a whimper of pain.

She clears her throat, trying to play cool on the fact she feels pain. As if it’s not normal.

“C’mon I’m fixing you up, the least you can do is tell me why.” You squeeze her thigh as an effort to comfort her. “I uh broke up with my girlfriend, I took out my anger on some girl, knowing damn well she isn’t the reason we lost.” She said looking down. You laugh, slowing your hands just so she has an excuse to stay longer. Seeing her in this vulnerable state made her grow on you.

She was better like this.

“So you broke up with her and you’re mad about that. Even though it was your choice.” She nods as if it's a perfectly logical thing to do. “Maybe it was the best thing to do? You know, My friend’s dorm is right next to yours. “Oh god.” She says then grabs the vodka, taking a quick chug then letting you continue. She had long taken the soda off her face.

You were slightly hoping it was to look at you.

“Yeah, she was crazy.” You believed her when she said that, she looked like the type. Not that you were the type of person to judge on how they look. If you did you probably wouldn’t be playing doctor with Abby on your bed right now.

“Can I say something?” You ask her, waiting for her to confirm. She nods, you place a bandaid across her nose covering the gash. “She never stopped talking oh my fuck, I dont know how you dealt with that.” She laughs, leaning back onto her elbows.

“Yeah, you learn to zone it out after a while.” She looks at you, up and down her eyes falling on a necklace tied around your neck.

She leans to you, grabbing the necklace, rubbing it in between her fingers. Goosebumps covering your body when she touched your skin. Fuck. That little touch made you feel things.

She looks into your eyes, then to your lips. It looks like she’s trying to figure you out, figure something out. “You’re in my engineering class aren’t you?” She says, still holding onto your necklace.

You nod. “I'm surprised you knew that.” She smiles at you, letting out a slight laugh. “After i freaked out at that party, then saw you in class the next day I was so fucking embarrassed.” She pauses then drops your necklace. “I never forgot you, you know I thought you were pretty cute that night.” You blush, grabbing the vodka bottle, taking a lengthy sip then coughing.

You never thought she could be embarrassed, she had so much pride.

“I thought you were intimidating.” You say honestly, as the vodka burns down your throat. She tilts her head. “That a good thing? Cause I’m going to take it as a compliment.” She says, taking the bottle from your hands then taking another sip.

You don’t know what came over you but you put her hand on your cheek, you look at her face to see her reaction, nothing.

Again she looks at your eyes, your lips then back to your eyes. She leans in, placing her other hand on your neck. Her plush lips connect with yours, you pull back looking at her then back in.

She moved fast, an innocent kiss turned into heavy making out. She pulled you onto her lap, her arm wrapped around your waist holding you tight to her.

She pulls off of you, kissing from your jaw to your collarbone, your back arching in response. She moves you over slightly, her thigh now in between yours.

Oh my fucking god.

She sucks on your neck, guiding your hips to ride her thigh, slow and brutal. With one hand she puts her hand on your neck pulling you back into a kiss as she guides your hips faster.

You could feel yourself reaching your climax, moaning into the kiss when Abby gets a call.

She picks it up, connects her lips to your neck, not stopping your hips.

“What the fuck Abby, where are you I’m at your dorm? I need my shit.” You feel her sigh on your neck, giving it one last kiss then responding. You try to quiet your moans, it was torture.

“I’m busy.” All she says before connecting your lips with hers. You feel her flexing her leg, laying down the phone on speaker now guiding your hips with both hands.

“Well hurry the fuck up or I’ll find whatever or whoever you’re doing.” Said her now ex girlfriend then hangs up.

“Gonna have to speed this up darling, not like I won't be back for more, you’re delicious.” She said into your ear, pushing you harder onto her thigh.

That pet name, god it pushed you over the edge. You squeeze her thighs between hers as your body shuttered on her, she kissed you then you moved off of her.

You look down at her thigh, now has a wet spot from you, you look at her face, lip bleeding again. You lick your lips, the strong iron taste filling your senses. Had it been bleeding the whole time?

You drank down her blood as you filled your lust, she didn’t stop you.

There was something so wrong about it..

She looks at you then her phone, sucking her lip into her mouth then letting it go, touching it with her thumb. Muttering a fuck under her breath, then standing up.

“Gotta go ‘m sorry.” She says while shoving on her shoes, walking to the door then walking over to you to give your forehead a kiss.

She touches her lip to her t-shirt leaving a crimson stain bound to last. “See ya.” That’s all you say to her before she walks out the door, knowing there was a chance you’d never hear from her again.

You still let her go.

A/N: college football abby makes me feral ive seen a couple of these and wanted to participate :)) love yall

[idleoblivion]

"Hey Man I Love You, But No Fucking Way" Jamil Viper x GN Reader

Synopsis: The time has finally come for you to leave, but he isn't ready to lose you. Surely you'll hear him out, right?

Word count: ~900

A/N: I usually prefer fluff but thought I'd experiment with a little angst, though I don't think it's too intense. Never written any kind of yandere stuff before so sorry if it's tame.

Warnings: angst, yandere Jamil

This day was bound to come. He knew it, you knew it, everyone did. That didn’t make it any easier for him, though. 

He knew you had started bugging Crowley harder about going home after the second overblot. And harder again after the third, then his, and so on. He wanted to meddle, but Kalim kept him busy. Plus, his faith in Crowley was so low he thought he’d have more time. Time to win you over, time to convince you that your place was with him. And he had made progress, you two had become very close despite what went down in Scarabia over the holiday. But the time for you to go had come regardless. 

He knew you had people you missed and places you still wanted to see. He knew that at the end of the day, no matter how much he’d grown to like your presence, you were not meant to be in Twisted Wonderland. 

But he still held onto that naive hope he had that you would hear him out tonight. Perhaps too tightly.

“You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

“I do.” You answer almost emotionlessly.

“Then… then please-” “Don’t ask me what you’re about to ask me. Don’t do that.”

He should’ve stopped there, but he couldn’t. If there was any chance of you staying with him, he had to fight for it. So he kept going.

“Please… you don’t know what my life was like before you. Please don’t leave me like this.”

You don’t say anything back. He could already feel himself unraveling, but tried to hold it together the best he could. 

“You’re the only person I can be myself around. You’re the only person who I can show what I’m actually capable of, the only-” “Jamil, you need to stop this. Now.”

“I love you.” He admits with desperation. “I love you, please, you can’t leave me like this. I’ll never…” he trails off, holding back tears.

“I love you too, Jamil…” You sigh deeply.

“Just not enough to stay?” He snaps without thinking. The look on your face immediately tells him that was the wrong thing to say. “How fucking dare you? You think you’re the only person I’m allowed to care about? I have people that I miss, Jamil. That I’ve been missing. I had a life before this school, sorry that hurts your feelings so badly.” He hadn’t expected you to get so angry with him. 

“I didn’t mean-” “I had a life. A life without magic and overblots. Where I didn’t spend every waking moment waiting for something else bad to happen. Where people didn’t want to fight me just for existing, and I wasn’t almost constantly in some kind of trouble or danger.” You’re crying now too, and you turn your back to him as you continue. “I can’t do it. I can’t stay. There’s nothing good for me here.” “What…what can I do? There’s has to be something I can do-” “No, there isn’t. I’m leaving tomorrow and that’s that. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I…I told you, I love you!” “And I told you I love you, but I can’t do this for you!” You wipe your face as you turn to face him again. “You think I’m happy about leaving you? Of course I’m not! But I’m not going to suffer here for your sake. I have to do this, for me. Why can’t you understand that?!”

And in that moment, he finally did understand. You didn’t want to hurt him. You weren’t trying to, you just needed to look out for yourself. He couldn’t blame you for that. You said you loved him, and he believed you. He watches you sniffle in front of him and put your face in your hands. He feels remorse for how this world has treated you, and guilt for not getting what you really meant at first. Yes, he understands perfectly. 

It was the rest of the world that was the problem. You could be happy in Twisted Wonderland, you just didn’t know it. With Crowley and overblots and other stress always wearing you down, of course you didn’t think you could stay. If you were constantly hurting, how could he expect you to?

But, why hadn’t you just said that from the start? If you knew how much you meant to him, didn’t you also know just how far he’d go for you? The mountains he would make move? The people he’d dispose of? Wouldn’t you do the same for him?

Of course, you would never have to do the same for him. He would do everything, take care of everything. Nothing would keep you two from each other. All you had to do was be with him and be happy. He could make that happen, he was sure of it.

He decides that those kinds of plans don’t matter right now, though. What matters most is that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, and he isn’t going to let you.

“Look at me.” “Jamil, I’m done with this. I-”

“I get that, okay? Just…please, look at me one more time.” He was pleading, and his voice sounded so terribly dejected. You sigh again. You lift your head up from your hands and meet his eyes.

“I told you, I’m sorry. I really am. I-” “Snake Whisper. Follow me. You’re not going through that mirror.”

[devildom-moss]

I really love your series on Mc giving everyone a kiss on the cheek. Can I ask for the reverse? Where they give a kiss on the cheek or something similar (a gift, perhaps?) for their Mc?

Okay, so this ask is going to take me a while, so I'm going to split it up. I hope you don't mind. I didn't quite go with the same PDA premise for this one - hope that's okay. So, what I did was I thought about who would be more likely to give a kiss on the cheek, a gift, or both. So part 1 of this request will be both. I hope you like it if you see this (sorry it took me so long to get to this, by the way).

Signs of Affection (kiss + gift)

(Lucifer x gn!MC) (Leviathan x gn!MC) (Diavolo x gn!MC) (Barbatos x gn!MC) (Simeon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +4,500

Lucifer

It was starting to get late when your D.D.D. buzzed. Lucifer was on an extended business trip with Diavolo and had taken to sending you secret good-night texts before he went to bed. Apparently, he didn’t think he could go five days without contacting you. He had even called on the third day just to hear your voice. With an affectionate smile, you checked your D.D.D. However, this message wasn’t what you were expecting.

Lucifer: Please go to my office.

You were confused – solely because you expected his office to be empty. Lucifer would be gone until tomorrow morning. Perhaps he had something valuable teleported there?  Whatever it was, if Lucifer was willing to say “please,” you figured it was important. Your heart jumped from your chest when you walked into the room and saw Lucifer sitting back in a chair with one leg crossed over the other.

“There you are.” He looked at you seductively, waiting for you to get closer so he could pounce. “Come in.”

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.” You made no attempt to hide your smile. It was nice to see him earlier than expected, but it made you wonder. “So, did things go really well or was it a disaster – for you to be back early, that is?”

“Let’s say it went well.” Lucifer smirked, unwilling to admit that he had all but begged Diavolo to allow him to return home early. If Diavolo hadn’t felt bad for Lucifer being ogled at throughout the trip – not to mention being hit on during three separate occasions by different nobles and a rather forward marriage proposal, he might have insisted that Lucifer stayed the extra half a day. Diavolo had noticed that Lucifer was uncomfortable the second he was away from polite company, and he had only seen Lucifer genuinely smile when he was on his phone and on the first morning when they were out window shopping before their meeting. So, Lucifer took an earlier train back, leaving Barbatos and Diavolo alone for one more night of mingling. By the time he got back, Lucifer was exhausted – although not so exhausted that he couldn’t carve out some time for his beloved human. “Sit, have a drink with me.”

You took the seat next to him and he handed you a chilled glass of Demonus he had already poured in anticipation of your arrival. “Did you have a good trip?”

“Not in the slightest – although it might have gone better if you were with me.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“Nothing important. Now,” Lucifer started, uncrossing his legs and leaning closer to you, “did you miss me?”

“It wasn’t even five days, Lucifer.” You rolled your eyes. “I won’t die of loneliness.”

“Oh? I thought I was supposed to be the cruel one.” Lucifer leaned down and grabbed the leg of your chair, pulling you closer – and, quite ungracefully, causing a bump in the rug. You were left between his legs, and Lucifer used his newly obtained proximity to run his hand up your thigh. “I missed you terribly. I was dying of loneliness.”

“How many drinks did you have before I arrived?” you sighed.

“This is the first one, I’m afraid.” Lucifer swirled the Demonus in his glass before setting it down. Only then did you notice the small box sitting behind the bottle on the table. His eyes followed yours, and he let out a soft chuckle. “Curious?”

“Souvenir from your trip?”

“Almost.” Lucifer scooped up the box before returning his gaze to you. He stared, expectant and almost sad. “Just tell me you missed me – even if you’re lying.”

“I waited up for your texts every night. Of course I missed you.” You caressed his cheek, and teased, “you soft, baby boy.”

“Confession accepted. Close your eyes,” Lucifer instructed. You agreed, but not without rolling them once more. You heard him open the box and felt him take your hand before slipping something onto your wrist. Still, you kept your eyes shut – even as he turned your hand over and kissed your wrist – until he gave you the signal. He turned your hand back around, continuing to hold it, and said, “okay. You can open them.”

It was a bracelet with round, black crystal beads. When the light hit them at the right angle, you could see flashes of red. It kind of reminded you of “. . . your eyes.”

“What?” Lucifer asked.

“It reminds me of your eyes,” you admitted, looking between the stones and his eyes. “They’re both beautiful.”

Lucifer’s cheeks grew pink, and he cleared his throat before mentioning, “it’s made of Hell-Sheen Obsidian. It’s a rare stone that can only be harvested from the lava that forms within a volcano near the location of our business trip. The volcano has been dormant for centuries, and genuine pieces are hard to come by. They offer the wearer strong protection. I want you to wear it when I’m not around to watch over you.”

It hadn’t escaped you that Lucifer had yet to release your hand, so you brought his knuckles to your lips. The soft kiss only made Lucifer’s blush deepen. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

“Thank you, my love.” Lucifer leaned in and kissed your cheek affectionately. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, the reds of his irises glimmering in the dim light. “What do you say we take advantage of my early return, and you spend the rest of the night with me?”

Leviathan

There was an off-beat knock at your door – like someone had hesitated to commit to the knock. The awkward noise was followed by an equally uncomfortable, “Uhm, MC? Are you there?”

“Levi?” you asked, sitting up in your bed. It was already well past dinner, and you had laid down with your D.D.D., so you weren’t expecting someone to interrupt your mindless, pre-sleep scrolling. “Gimme a sec.”

You got out of bed to unlock the door and found Levi standing anxiously in the hallway, clutching something close to his chest. Hoping to ease some of his tension, you invited him into your room. He followed with the nervous energy of someone who was doing something he probably shouldn’t.

With the door shut, you questioned him, “Are you okay?”

“I – yeah. Here.” Levi thrust the item he was holding in your direction. It was a box, wrapped in Azuki-tan paper – no doubt something that Levi had wrapped himself.

“What’s this for?” You took the package from his hands, politely ignoring the small yelp he made when your fingers grazed his.

“For, um – to thank you, you know, for helping me cram before the exam the other day.” Levi’s cheeks began to flush, but he continued, rushing his words as he tried to explain. “You didn’t have to do that, but because of you, I passed, and I don’t have to take extra classes over the weekend, which means I can watch Chocolate Heartbreak stream their mini concert live tomorrow. And I know I thanked you at the time, but I wanted to thank you again because I’m really happy that you decided to help a gross otaku like me – even though you probably didn’t have any fun because who has fun studying with a shut in? But anyway, thank you.”

“Oh, Levi, baby, breathe.” He hadn’t taken a single breath during that last part. You put your hand on his head and rubbed him gently, hoping to calm him down. While he did take a few slow, steady breaths, his heart only raced, and his cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink. “Thank you for the present, really, but I had a good time studying with you. I was happy to help. And you aren’t gross, either.”

Levi covered his face with his hands and murmured, “thank you.”

You chuckled at his cuteness. “Can I open it now?”

Instead of words, Levi simply nodded. You carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a charm with chibi drawings of the members of Chocolate Heartbreak, a matching sticker, and a brown tin with a red broken heart and each of the members in cute poses around the sides of the tin. Inside was an assortment of themed candies and cookies. Levi peeked through his fingers to watch your reaction. When you smiled, he found the courage to speak again.

“Chocolate Heartbreak did a collab with Madam Devian’s and a local artist to put out a themed snack tin to promote their mini concert. I ordered a few, but I made sure to buy one specifically for you.” Levi stared at your hands, holding the tin. “Well, uhm, I was thinking maybe we could eat them together while we watch the concert live tomorrow – if you want to!”

“Of course! I’d love to.” You smiled at him.

Levi looked up, his mouth agape as if he wasn’t expecting you to accept so enthusiastically. His mouth opened and closed, as if to speak, before he managed to mumble something out. “. . . you.”

“Sorry, what was that?” You asked, getting slightly closer. Levi rubbed his arm nervously.

“I love you!” he blurted out. Levi quickly leaned in to kiss your cheek before attempting to flee. However, you caught his arm before he could make his escape, and pulled him in, kissing his lips sweetly – and, for the sake of his heart, briefly.

“I love you, too. Now, I’ll see you tomorrow to watch the concert. Goodnight, Levi.” You grinned and let him go, but not without teasingly adding, “unless you want to spend the night, that is.”

“N-not at this time! Thank you. Good night!” Levi was a ball of giddiness and nerves as he slithered out of your grasp and ran away down the hall. How in the Devildom was he going to get to sleep now?

Diavolo

It was hard to know exactly what to expect when Diavolo called you to the castle – with instructions to head directly to his room once you arrived. Usually, he would joke around or send some kind of flirty sticker to indicate that this was a purely social call. He had just returned from a business trip, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had heard something troubling on his trip – or maybe someone had spread some unsavory rumors that reached him upon his return. Everyone had been well behaved enough, though. Still, if Diavolo was in a bad mood, you weren’t particularly thrilled to have to deal with it, but you had already agreed to meet with him. Besides, Diavolo wasn’t usually scary, and no matter how bad his mood was, he had never been mean to you before – indifferent, perhaps, but not actively cruel.

Either way, you readied yourself for needing to verbally defend the brothers or yourself as you tapped at his door. To your relief, the “enter” from the other side of the door didn’t sound too upset.

Diavolo had been sitting on his sofa, staring at a black box on his coffee table. He immediately perked up, standing to his feet, when he realized the knock had come from you. A smile grew on his face as he exclaimed, “You’re early.”

“I was in town – not too far from the castle. Sorry, did I interrupt something?”

“Not at all,” Diavolo laughed. “I’d much prefer to see you than anyone else – just don’t tell Barbatos.”

Diavolo brought his finger to his lips. You laughed, letting the tension in your body go. Based on his reception of you, it was clear that you hadn’t been called for something too grave. “So, I take it I’m not in trouble today?”

Once again, Diavolo laughed. He looked down, and when his eyes returned to you, they had a mischievous glint – something more boyishly charming than befitting royalty. In a smooth, tempting tone, he teased, “Why, did you do something bad, MC? Should I punish you?

“Only if I get to punish you the next time that you’re bad,” you teased back with a smirk. Diavolo’s eyes widened, and he felt his cheeks burn. Pleased that you had successfully flustered the prince, you answered him honestly, “I’m kidding. I didn’t do anything bad, but your message seemed so serious. I was racking my brain trying to figure out if I had done something wrong while you were away.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, I was exhausted when I sent that message,” Diavolo admitted, ashamed that he had made you worry. “The only reason I have any energy at all is because I was eager to see you. I’ll be sure to add more hearts to my messages the next time I want to see you.”

“Please don’t. I might mistake your texts for Asmo’s,” you joked. “I’ll just try not to assume your mood based on one text next time. Anyway, why did you call me over if you’re so exhausted?”

Diavolo motioned towards the box on the table, “For this.”

“Hm?” You looked between him and the box. “The box you were trying to burn holes into with your eyes when I walked in? What? Is someone trying to court you again?”

“Goodness no. I’ve been pleasantly lacking in suitors recently. There is this one suitor, though – nearly as powerful as they are cute.”

“Solomon’s trying to seduce you now? I know he wants a pact with you but to resort to going about it by getting you in bed – how devious.” You couldn’t hide your smile as you feigned disappointment.

“Not the teacher,” Diavolo chuckled. He grabbed the box and presented it to you. “I’m talking about his favorite ‘adorable apprentice.’ I’ve gotten a present for them.”

You wanted to continue your game, feigning surprise, but your heart had melted far too much for you to keep up the act. With heart-wrenching sincerity, you responded, “thank you. Can I?”

“Of course. Please, go ahead.” Diavolo watched on as you lifted the box lid to reveal a lovely silk tie with one of your favorite flowers printed on it. Even the tie color and the print color were ones you preferred. Mephisto would have nothing on your tie game now – not that he ever did. “I missed you while I was away. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time. When we had the opportunity to tour the city, I took that time searching for a token of my affection.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Diavolo. I feel like you’re going to spoil me.”

“Nonsense! A treasure like you cannot be spoiled.” Diavolo pulled you in close, leaned in until his breath was tickling your ear, and whispered, “You know, you don’t simply have to wear this tie. Perhaps we can come up with a more creative use for it?”

Diavolo kissed your cheek, lingering just long enough to savor the warmth of your skin.

Barbatos

You had been so exhausted as of late, and the combination of late nights and the day-to-day stress that the brothers et al. caused you had taken its toll. All you wanted was a few moments of peace and quiet for yourself. So, you snuck off to school early and hid out in the RAD council room. It was far too early for anyone to be in there. In fact, the only people you saw on campus were Serun, and a few studious demons on their way to the library – one of which was definitely from one of your classes – perhaps Seductive Speechcraft – because they offered you a familiar wave as you passed in the hall. In the comfortable silence, you picked a seat and tucked yourself into a dim-lit corner.

With one of your textbooks laid out in front of you, you had fully intended to spend the next hour or so reading and studying without any interruption. However, your sleep deprivation and the heaviness of your eyelids had their own demands.

By the time Barbatos wandered into the student council, you had been asleep for well over a half an hour. He was pleased that you weren’t awake to see him jump slightly at the discovery of your body, slumped over the table. No one was supposed to be in there – and certainly not that early. All the lights weren’t even on yet.

Barbatos quickly recognized that you had fallen asleep – in Belphegor’s chair, no less. Although it was a suitable place for you to nap, Barbatos felt a tinge of jealousy, almost wishing he spent less time standing at Diavolo’s side and had his own designated seat that you could have fallen asleep in. He approached you cautiously, hoping to delay waking you up. No one – save for Barbatos himself and your unreliable narrator – would know whether he was able to snap a picture of your sleeping face before the affection swelling in his chest overcame him. Barbatos leaned down to kiss your cheek: the one that wasn’t adorably squished against your arm.

Your brows furrowed as the sensation pulled you out of sleep’s grasp. You groaned before opening your eyes. Barbatos had placed a homemade pastry in a bag, tied up with some spare mint-colored ribbon, in front of you before kissing you. So, as your eyes adjusted, the pastry was the first thing you saw, but a soft chuckle was the first thing you heard.

“Good morning, MC.”

“Barbatos? Did you just kiss me or was that a dream?” Your words were breathy as you tried to wake yourself up from an accidental nap. You straightened your spine and rolled your shoulders back.

“Shall I kiss you now, and you can judge for yourself?”

You scoffed. “You definitely kissed me, and now you’re trying to get a second one, aren’t you?”

“Perceptive as ever,” Barbatos mused. However, your tired face was harder to read than usual, and Barbatos became cautiously somber. “My apologies. In truth, you looked so cute that I found myself unable to resist, so I kissed your cheek to wake you up. Was I too presumptuous?”

If it had been some random demon you didn’t adore, perhaps it would have been an issue, but you figured this didn’t particularly bother you. You had done far worse – or, in this case, better – with Barbatos. Still, you didn’t get the opportunity to catch Barbatos in the wrong, and you wanted to mess with him. With feigned hurt, you replied, “You really are a demon – kissing someone in their sleep like that.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” The words fell out of his mouth quickly, and he searched for an appropriate response to remedy his offense. “I truly believed it would be okay, but I was mistaken. Please, pardon me for taking advantage. It won’t happen again.”

“Hm, well, it was a bit creepy,” you smirked, “but I suppose I could forgive you if you’ll let me have this pastry.”

Barbatos slapped his hand to his face and let out an exasperated sigh. “Were you teasing me just now?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you managed between a stifled laugh; the sleep had been completely shaken from you as you smiled and added, “You just seemed so flustered. I like that side of you.”

“I have half a mind to lock you up where those brothers can no longer be a negative influence on you,” he mumbled.

“Unfortunately, I arrived in the Devildom like this,” you corrected him.

“Then perhaps I should lock you up simply because I want to keep you for myself,” Barbatos admitted, absentmindedly – still recovering from your antics. He sighed and quickly redirected the conversation. “Anyway, the pastry is yours.”

“Oh, I was joking. You don’t really have to give me your food.”

“I brought it for you.” Barbatos pet your head before slipping his cool, gloved hand down your cheek and under your chin. “I intended to make you smile by bringing you a treat. I didn’t realize it would be as easy as allowing you to tease me.”

“Aww,” your grin widened. “That’s actually really sweet. Thank you!”

“As long as you’re happy.” Barbatos smiled and slowly pulled his hand away. “Now, I have some paperwork to attend to on behalf of the Young Master. You’re welcome to stick around until your first class begins. You can even go back to sleep, and I’ll wake you up if you’d like.”

“I’m alert now, thanks to you. But could you do something else for me?”

“Name it.”

“Could you kiss me again?”

Barbatos chuckled and bent down until he was close enough for his breath to graze your lips. He held your gaze seductively, but instead of kissing your lips as you had hoped, he moved to the side and kissed the cheek that he had been unable to kiss before. His lips lingered.

“Better?” he whispered in your ear. “You really should ensure that you’re sleeping properly. How else can I keep you up all night without worrying about you?”

Simeon

If it had been anyone other than an angel (or, former angel) – well, maybe not even Raphael and Michael – that had asked you to meet them at the edge of a forest, you would – and should – have assumed that you were going to be murdered and promptly disposed of. However, since it was Simeon who asked, you trusted him to not kill you. (Besides, Simeon could certainly think of somewhere more creative and romantic than a forest, right?)

Still, you might as well check. When you arrived and saw Simeon waiting for you, carrying a crossbody bag, you asked, “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“Heavens no,” Simeon laughed, offering you his arm. “Have you started watching those true crime shows like Solomon and Raphael?”

You took Simeon’s arm and followed him into the forest. “Those two started watching true crime? Together?”

“Yes. I can’t say I don’t understand the grisly appeal, and I’m happy that they’re able to bond over something that doesn’t involve food, but it’s a bit much sometimes.”

“To be fair, Solomon’s cooking and true crime are equally gruesome. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s committed accidental murders with his food.”

“I would laugh if I didn’t agree with you,” Simeon admitted.

“Oh, geez, I’m so sorry.” You brought your free hand up to your forehead with a thunk. “This was supposed to be a date, and we started it by talking about the potential of Solomon committing manslaughter. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Simeon chuckled and put his hand over your arm. He squeezed you gently, reassuringly. “We are on a date in the Devildom. It’s almost suitable, don’t you think?”

“I guess so, but you never told me why you wanted to meet out here. Did you just want a change of scenery?”

“Sort of. There’s a field of flowers nearby. According to a book I borrowed from Barbatos, these particular flowers are at their peak around this time of year, but most people don’t attempt to find the field because the path is apparently cursed.” You looked at Simeon, incredulous and uncertain about whether you wanted an explanation or not. Simeon laughed sweetly in the face of your concern, which eased some of that worry. “A legend claims that the field of flowers was planted by a demon as an act of love for someone they held very dear. Unfortunately, their loved one brought a lover there – only for that lover to dump them the following day. The former lover returned to the field with a new partner soon after.”

“That’s cruel,” you interjected.

“I know. To make it worse, the loved one who had been dumped was so heartbroken that they fell ill and died. The demon who planted the field was enraged by the betrayal of their loved one and burned the field down. However, upon seeing the destroyed field, the demon regretted their actions. It was as if they had burned down the memory of their deceased loved one. They had destroyed something beautiful. The deceased one was buried in the field. For years, the demon tended to the scorched earth until it was healthy enough to replant. They returned to care for the plants daily until they sprouted. To commemorate their loved one and honor the beauty of the field, the demon put a curse on the land so that only those with true love in their hearts could find it. If your love is true, the path will trace the same steps that the demon took each day to tend to the field. If not, the path will bend and twist, and you may never find your way out of the forest.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you admitted. You weren’t particularly worried, but the legend – if true – put you on edge.

“Precisely. After a few people went missing, many demons stopped coming altogether. The rumors changed over time until they overwrote the narrative of the original story. Most demons believe that the forest itself is haunted. They doubted their love.” Simeon looked at you with a soft smile. “I have no such doubts. See?”

Simeon pointed ahead on the path, and you turned to see patches of a flower field begin to sprout up through gaps between the trees. It wasn’t long before a clearing came into view. The moonlight made the blossoms appear to glow. Small white flowers shimmered like stars while blue and purple ones reflected the night sky’s subtle light. It was beautiful.

Just off the path, there was a blanket and a picnic basket set up. You glanced back at Simeon. “Did you –?”

“I had no doubts that I loved you, so I came here and set this up ahead of time.” His arm slipped from yours so he could caress your face. “I just wanted to see you smile.”

“Thank you so, so much. I’m happy you wanted me to see this. I won’t come here with anyone but you.” You gave Simeon the soft smile he had been craving.

Knowing you were all alone, Simeon took the chance to kiss your cheek. Then, he kissed the other side, lingering longer than the first time. Then, he brought his lips to your forehead, keeping them pressed there as if he was afraid to let you go.

“Uhm, Simeon?” you interrupted his kiss.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got carried away! And I forgot –” Simeon pulled away, flustered, and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a box containing a pair of ceramic teacups with the same flowers in the field painted around the edges of the cup and saucer. “I got you a present too! I got them custom made for us. I thought it would be nice that even when the field goes dormant, you’ll still have a reminder.”

Your heart melted and all you could do was carefully wrap your arms around Simeon and bury your smile against his skin. If the legend was indeed true, Simeon understood what it felt like to create something so beautiful and lovely that only a select few deserved to see it.

(kiss version - Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Solomon)

(gift version - Beelzebub, Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles)

A/N: I cannot explain what happened for these to turn out like this, but yeah. I hope you enjoy. Also, I still have so many requests from Halloween left and I feel like I should stop apologizing for taking months to get to them at this point. Dear lord. So sorry I forgot to add a read more tag the first time I posted this. I am out of it.

[leclsrc]

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.