#wooden wedding box

[sglaser]

Stunning Wedding Cake Toppers for Your Perfect Celebration

Discover our exquisite collection of Wedding Cake Toppers at SG Laser. Customizable and crafted from high-quality materials, our toppers add a personalized touch to your wedding cake, making your special day even more memorable. Choose from various designs to match your wedding theme and style.

[weyland-rutter-1995]

[imaginedisish]

Unchained Melody (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry again. Here is the *what if you and Logan went to a wedding together* request. Heavily inspired by "Unchained Melody." That is such a Logan song and you cannot tell me otherwise. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT, thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), softdom!Logan, praise kink, cocky!Logan (literally), multiple orgasms, aftercare, Logan will do anything for you, afab!reader/f!reader, reader wears a dress, reader has hair (length/color/texture not described), feelings, so fluffy and cheesy, cursing, Scott is a little shit, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,452 I wanna dance with Logan

Maybe this was a mistake. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning around and around. You scan your face, check your hair, and smooth out your dress. Everything is in its right place. But, maybe, just maybe, this is all a mistake. 

You and Logan—somehow—came to the decision that you would go to Rogue and Remy’s wedding together. As in…

Together. 

And yet, you weren’t entirely sure what together truly entailed. Was this going to be a date? Or were you two simply going as friends? Friends friends friends. That god-awful, misery-inducing word you’re all too familiar with. Its meaning and restrictions haunted you as you got ready, and they’re still plaguing you now. You are so incredibly sick of being just friends with Logan. You want more—want him, all of him. But you can’t tell him how you feel—you can never find the words or the courage. 

So, you’re simply going to the wedding together, unlabeled out of fear of getting an answer you don’t want to hear. 

You slip on your heels, straightening out your gown one last time before heading towards the door. You take a deep breath, nervous beyond belief. You twist the knob, pulling the door open. 

And there he is on the other side, fist clenched like he was about to knock. Logan. He’s wearing a black suit, a bowtie tied perfectly at his neck. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Hi,” he husks, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He smiles softly as he meets your gaze. He shakes his head in awe. “You look beautiful.” 

“Oh, please I—” But he cuts you off, his hand reaching out to rest in the crook of your neck. “Really, you look beautiful. You always do.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You take a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the contact and Logan’s words. “You look really great too,” you choke out, a slight tremble in your voice. “Perfect,” you say, and Logan tugs your hand, guiding you out the door and into the hallway.

Rogue had told you the wedding would be small—just her and Gambit’s closest friends and family on the grounds of the institute.  

Logan leads you down the stairs and out the back door of the mansion. The first thing you see are flowers; an absolute abundance of flowers. There are lilies and irises, asters and chrysanthemums. Daises, tulips, every single flower one can imagine—adorning tables, white tents, and planted in pots and boxes. It’s beautiful—a rainbow of colors and fragrances. The lawn has been transformed into a secret garden. 

Logan guides you down a cobblestone path toward a trellis covered in vines and wisteria. Surrounding the trellis on either side are rows of white, wooden chairs. You and Logan walk to the front row on Rogue’s side of the aisle and sit down next to Storm, Charles, and Jubilee.  You wave as you sit down. “You look amazing!” Jubilee shouts, reaching over Charles and Logan to get a better look at your dress. 

“You look beautiful too, Jubes,” you say, motioning in her direction. Logan sits back, slipping his hand from yours and draping his arm over your shoulder instead. Jubilee notices the movement, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, a small smile playing upon her lips. She winks at you and settles back into her seat. 

Footsteps sweep through the grass as people find their chairs. You struggle to ignore the warmth of Logan’s arm around your shoulder and the way it makes you feel—the soft circles he’s drawing into your bare skin. It’s like he needs the proximity, needs the touch. 

You can feel Logan lean in, his lips at the shell of your ear. “You are the most—”

“Wow,” a familiar voice interrupts Logan. You turn your head, and there’s Scott, with Jean just a few steps behind him. “Didn’t expect that.” He raises his brows and cocks his head to the side. 

“You need something, bub?” Logan asks, annoyance and irritation heavy in his voice. 

Scott swallows nervously as Jean chuckles behind him. He shakes his head and sits down next to you. “Nope, I just…” He trails off, looking towards the trellis. 

Logan leans forward, his arm still around your shoulder. “You just what?”

Scott throws his hands up, feigning innocence. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Logan leans back, squeezing your shoulder gently as he settles into the seat. You turn towards him, catching his gaze. You need to ask him what this is, even if it’s clear to him. It’s obviously something to everyone else. You part your lips, finding the courage to finally ask Logan what you two are. “Logan,” you whisper so only he can hear. “What is—"  

But the music starts up, a whimsical rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” filling the air as Hank walks down the aisle, stopping underneath the trellis. Next is Remy, in a cream-colored suit. He grins from ear to ear as he trails down the aisle, nodding to Charles as he steps under the arch. And finally, at the end of the aisle is Rogue. Her dress is bright white, lacey, and tight. She walks down, her bouquet of lilies of the valley and baby’s breath in hand. 

She meets Remy’s side, and the music stops. “Friends and family,” Hank starts, smiling widely at the crowd. “We have gathered here today for the marriage of two people who should have been married long ago.” The crowd chuckles as Hank goes on. “But it is always better late than never…”

He continues, talking about their story, their love. Hank—naturally—finds a few Shakespeare quotes to scatter throughout his speech. It’s incredibly cheesy, but it’s beautiful. And, as Remy and Rogue exchange vows, you can’t help but well up. Their admiration and passion for one another is so undeniably clear. They’re committed, a team, partners until the end. 

“I will always love you, chere,” Remy says, slipping the ring onto Rogue’s finger. 

A single tear slides down Rogue’s cheek. “And I will always love you, sugar,” Rogue says, placing the ring in her hand onto Remy’s finger next. 

You look up at Logan, and you notice that he’s looking down at you. There’s something in his eyes, but you can’t quite place it. He tugs you closer, his thumb still stroking your shoulder. 

Hank sniffles. “With the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Hank says, his voice shaky, his eyes glossed over, holding back tears. “You may now kiss the bride!” 

Remy wraps his arms around Rogue’s waist, and he dips her, his lips capturing hers. Everyone stands, clapping and cheering. You and Logan stand too, his arm falling from your shoulder, leaving you feeling cold despite the summer heat.

But as Rogue and Remy walk down the aisle, Logan’s arm wraps around your waist.  Rogue’s smile widens when she spots you, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. She laughs knowingly. Finally, she mouths to you, and blows you a kiss. The couple finishes their walk down the aisle, and they head into a nearby tent.  

Given that this is Rogue and Remy, the party starts right away. Music blares from the tent, and you can see the happy couple hitting the floor. You recognize the song immediately: “Take on Me” by Aha. Jean drags Scott across the grass to join them. Jubilee and some of the other kids trail behind. Charles, Storm, and Hank head over together. 

You look at Logan and smile, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him towards the tent. You can’t remember the last time you saw everyone this happy. It’s rare that you get to let loose, to have a good time. It warms your heart to see all the students dancing, to see them having a normal childhood experience. 

“Come on!” Jubilee calls. “Come dance!” She’s twirling around, dancing with Kurt and Morph, sparking her signature fireworks every now and then.

You squeeze Logan’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. You’re shocked that he doesn’t drag his heels, that he doesn’t protest or tell you no—he lets you tug him onto the floor. You turn to face him, swaying to the synthy pop. Logan lifts his arm, twirling you around, laughing as you spin back to him. He grabs your other hand and bounces with you to the music.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing!” You shout over the song as Logan spins you again. 

He smirks, chuckling softly. “I don’t!” He shouts back, pulling you in and out to the beat. “But I like dancing with you.” He draws you in closer, letting go of your hands as his arms wrap around your waist instead.

You can feel the heat rising to your chest, spreading up your neck. The song fades out, and a much slower one starts up. “Something” by The Beatles echoes across the lawn. Rogue and Remy take the center of the floor, and everyone steps off, watching from the side. Logan guides you off the floor and towards your table, his hand in yours again.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur. You see the way Remy looks at Rogue, the way they move as one, fluid unit. “Don’t you want something like that?” You ask, your gaze finding Logan’s. He has that look in his eyes again—all soft, relaxed, happy. 

Logan nods, squeezing your hand. “I think I’ve found it already.” 

Your lips part as you rack your brain for the right thing to say, your breath catching in your throat. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—the words you’ve been waiting to hear. “Logan I—”

But Jubilee is grabbing your hand as the song changes. “If you’re not gonna dance with my girl, then I’m stealing her!” Jubilee calls out to Logan, pulling you onto the floor as “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli rings out. 

“Jubes,” you protest. “Logan and I were actually talking about something kind of important and—”

“One song?” She begs, frowning, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. You look over at Logan, and he’s still standing where you left him, smiling widely. Dance with her, he mouths, arching his brows expectantly. 

“Fine,” you say, still looking at Logan. 

Jubilee cheers, taking your hands in hers, spinning you around. You jump with her, screaming the words. Logan watches from his seat. He loves the way you move, the way you shake your hips, the way you throw your head back and laugh. He can see how much fun you’re having, how happy you are. He can’t keep his eyes off you, can’t help but be mesmerized. And he knows—just by watching—that he wants to be with you forever. Longer than that. You’ve changed him, made him different. And all for the better. 

You look over at him, his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes follow your every move. He’s smiling widely, clearly getting a kick out of you. 

“He loves you, you know,” Jubilee says, twirling you. “I mean, just look at how he’s looking at you!” Jubilee smirks, nodding towards Logan. Her eyes widen. “I think he’s coming over here!”

“Jubes…” Logan chides as he steps closer to the two of you. “Think I can cut in?”

“I don’t know Logan,” Jubilee says sarcastically, grinning ear to ear. “We’re having a great time.”

Logan puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’d like my girl back now.” 

My girl. His girl. 

Jubilee lifts her hands, stepping away from you as the song fades out. “Fine,” she says, pretending to be heartbroken. “Guess I’ll just have to give her up.” Logan steps between the two of you, and you lean to the side to peer at Jubilee as she walks away. She catches your glance, thrusting two thumbs up, mouthing a You got this! as she wanders to her seat. 

“Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers starts up, and Logan wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. The sun is setting in the distance, a honeyed glow washing across the lawn, painting the tent and the dance floor in golden light. Logan sways you from side to side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. 

His lips find the shell of your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers so that only you can hear. 

“Lo, before, when we were watching Remy and Rogue…” you pause, lifting your head to look up at him. 

The corners of his mouth turn up. “I meant what I said,” Logan rasps. “I want you.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“I want you too,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Logan holds you tighter, his lips just inches away from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your face. 

“Wanted you the whole time,” Logan husks, rocking you gently as the song plays out. “You’re all I ever think about. I can’t get through a day without seeing you, without talking to you.” He pauses as the music grows louder, the strings and piano echoing across the dance floor.

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered, hungered for your touch A long, lonely time And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine?

“You feel like home,” he says, his eyes glossing over. “I’ve been alive a long time, and for once in my life, I finally understand what that word means. It’s you. This is what love is supposed to feel like.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath, his jaw working. “I love you, so goddamn much.”

“I love you too,” you confess. “More than anything.” 

And then his lips are on yours, and suddenly everything is nothing. The people around you are gone. Your problems have long melted away. Every ounce of pain and every second of suffering you’ve ever felt—that he has ever experienced—are forgotten. It’s all warmth and comfort, languid and slow, but passionate. He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. It’s perfect. Beyond perfect. 

His lips part from yours, and he looks down at you, taking you in, committing the moment to memory. “Pretty girl,” Logan mumbles, tugging you off the floor as the song fades out and a pop song starts up. “What if we slipped away for a few minutes?” 

“O-okay,” you stutter as Logan guides you past your table and out of the tent. The bass of the music echoes across the lawn as you and Logan wander hand in hand toward the mansion.  

He pushes the back door open, leading the two of you inside, and immediately pins you against the wall. “This okay, sweetheart?” Logan asks, holding your hands above your head, his fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your chest heaving against his. He closes the gap between you completely, his lips pressing to yours. It’s hurried now, hungry and frantic. His knee nudges between your legs, spreading you open. You can feel the fire burning in your core—the growing ache. 

You squirm underneath him, your arms fidgeting against his hold, longing to reach out and touch him. “Wanna make you feel good first, princess,” Logan soothes, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Let me take care of you.” You can’t help but grind down on his thigh at his words. 

“Lo,” you whine, searching for more friction. “Please, need you.” Logan swallows your moans with a kiss, his lips melting against yours. “I know, darlin’. I need you too,” he coos. “But I like watching you get off on my thigh,” he says cockily. “That feel good?” He pushes his thigh harder between your legs as you slide up and down. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, rolling your hips. “N-need more.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck, softly biting that sweet spot underneath your ear. “Gonna make this pussy feel good.” He lets go of your wrists as he slides down your body, hiking your dress up above your hips as he kneels in front of you.

Logan yanks your panties down your legs, leaving your core bare in front of him. “Wanna taste you, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning against your heat as he settles between your thighs. 

“Please,” you beg, his face just centimeters from where you need him most. His palms splay across your inner thighs, squeezing and nudging you open. You look down at him, hunger, desire, and desperation darkening his half-lidded eyes. “Lo—”

And then he’s licking a long stripe through your folds, his tongue flicking your clit. You shudder underneath his touch as he does it again, his tongue pressing harder this time. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” Logan mumbles against you. “Knew you’d taste perfect.” He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your knees buckle at the sensation. 

Logan pushes your legs further apart, one of his hands sliding up your thigh and toward your center. It’s teasing, achingly slow as his fingers finally reach your folds, toying with your slit and spreading your slick. He laps at your clit, and he’s desperate, ravenous, his mouth swallowing you hungrily.

He teases your entrance with two fingers—gentle compared to the way his teeth graze your clit, to the way he’s sucking every last drop you have to give him. You part your lips, ready to beg for him, but he’s thrusting his long fingers inside you—down to his knuckles—only to pull out and pump back in again. 

You moan his name, your back arching off the wall, your thighs trembling as he fucks into you. Logan smiles against you. “That feel good, pretty girl?” He asks, his fingers pumping in and out of your entrance at a rhythmic pace.

“S-so good, Logan,” you say, your voice shaky and uneven. His tongue flits out, flicking your clit before his lips wrap around the bud. He sucks again, harder this time, longer, his face buried deep inside your cunt, like he needs this. Needs to feel every inch of you. To explore you. To remember you. Your heart thunders in your chest as he thrusts in and out, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside every time. 

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him, taking him deeper. Logan laughs against you, the vibration rolling through your body in waves. “I know you’re getting closer, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, lapping at you between sentences. He looks up at you under those dark, hooded eyes as he plunges into you. “Let me get you there, wanna taste it when you come.”

You flutter around him again, his words threatening to spill the heat building at the bottom of your belly. “Lo,” you whimper as he brings a third finger to your entrance. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, say my name,” he demands, shoving the third finger deep inside on his next pump. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, your legs shaking as you chant his name. Logan Logan Logan. 

“So fucked out that I’m all you can think about, huh?” Logan teases, edging you closer along. You moan in affirmation as Logan laves at you, stuffing his fingers deep inside. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises. “Doing so good for me.”

“L-Lo,” you choke out, clenching down around him. “I’m so close.”

You can feel yourself coming undone, melting into nothingness as he rams into you, sucking your clit roughly. “I know, princess. Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

Your hips buck and your legs tremble as you fall apart. Your orgasm crashes into you, pleasure coursing through your veins. Logan works you through it, his face still buried between your legs. His tongue laps at you softly, his fingers pumping slowly until they stall inside you. 

His gaze meets yours as he pulls his fingers out of your cunt and brings them to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, savoring your release. He pulls his fingers out with a pop as he stands up. 

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “You know, there’s something else I want,” Logan says, his voice deep and raspy. “I’m not done with you yet.” He cages you in, a hand on either side of your head. 

“W-we need to be careful,” you stammer, nodding towards the door. “Someone could come in and—” Logan cuts you off. “Locked it the second we came inside, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, grabbing your dress and bunching it up around your waist. “No one’s coming in here. It’s just you and me, princess.” Logan pushes his hips into yours, and you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his slacks. “Need you, darlin’.”

You wrap your arms around Logan’s back. “Need you too,” you pant. Logan’s lips find yours, crashing down needily, starvingly. He swallows your moans, one hand still collecting the fabric of your dress while his other tugs at his belt. He throws it to the floor with a clink and works at his button and zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs. He hoists you up, one hand gripping your ass tightly, pushing your back against the wall for leverage.

“Fuck,” Logan curses, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. Everything is rushed and frantic. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as possible. His head slides through your folds, spreading your slick. “Wanted this for so long,” Logan huffs, his tip slipping into your slit. “My girl.”

With one thrust, he sinks himself deep inside you—down to the hilt. You’re suddenly so full, so whole. “Yours,” you answer as he pulls out and thrusts back in, somehow deeper this time. He’s everywhere and he’s everything. “All yours.”

Logan curses under his breath, panting your name as he sets a brutal pace. “Mine,” he growls between placing open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. “All fucking mine.” His free hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing tight, rapid circles around the bud. 

You dig your nails into his suit jacket as he splits you open. You want to feel him—to feel his skin, his chest pressed against yours. But this will have to do for now. 

“Next time,” he mumbles, knowing exactly what you’re silently asking for. “You can have more of me next time, okay sweetheart?”

Next time. The words replay in your head as he fucks into you, taking everything you have to give. He knows you so well, already knows every curve and inch of your body, knows your dreams and desires. You fit, like two puzzle pieces, like magnets finally drawing together. 

His thumb brushes your clit soothingly before pinching roughly, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Logan thrusts in and out, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the foyer. 

“Feels so good, pretty girl,” Logan groans. “So fucking perfect, so tight.” Your walls flutter around him, and he grunts as you squeeze him. “Taking me so well.” 

You’re already close, every thrust bringing you to the edge, every flick of your clit sending you spiraling. It’s all too much. And it’s all because of him. 

“Lo,” you whine, his hips rocking into yours, his cock dragging along your walls. “I’m so…” You trail off, squeezing him again, taking him deeper. 

He moans your name, sinking inside you and pulling back out. “I know, princess, me too,” he murmurs, his pace faltering, his hips sputtering. “Come on my cock, wanna feel it,” he pants. “Wanna feel you. Forever.”

And then the tension snaps, heat spilling out of you as Logan thrusts again. He’s throbbing inside you, close behind. Pleasure pulses through your body, wave after wave. You wrap your legs tighter around Logan’s waist, keeping him close as he spills inside you, filling you up. He chants your name, his forehead pressing to yours, looking deep into your eyes as he comes undone.

Your chests heave together, sharing the same breath. His cock is still inside you. Everything is calm. Quiet. “So perfect,” Logan breathes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking perfect.” He finally slips out of you and sets you down on the ground, keeping your dress bunched up around your waist. 

He leans over to the side, grabs a paper towel from a conveniently placed nearby roll, and sinks down to his knees. He’s cleaning you up, taking care of you, wiping away the mess spilling down your legs. He pulls your panties back up and kisses each of your thighs before standing and tossing the paper towel into the garbage by the door. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting your dress go. He fixes each of your straps, straightening them out, and smooths out your dress. “Beautiful,” he praises, swallowing harshly, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out and taking you again. Part of you wishes he would.

But he bends over and pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking in his shirt, zippering and buttoning his slacks, and securing his belt back in place. He’s still a little disheveled—sweat on his brow, his hair out of place. But he looks perfect. He looks just like him. 

“You ready to go back out?” He asks, taking your hand in his. You nod and let him lead you outside and towards the tent. 

You find your seats just as dinner is being served. “Where’d you two go?” Scott asks, arching a brow. 

“Got a little too hot,” Logan says, smirking to himself. He finds your thigh under the table, squeezing gently, possessively. “Needed a break from the heat.”

You hum in affirmation, turning your head towards Logan. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “That’s one way to put it,” you whisper so that only he can hear. 

He squeezes your thigh again, harder this time. His lips find the shell of your ear as the rest of the table starts up a conversation. “You’re coming back to my room tonight,” he husks. “Got it?” You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he separates from you. 

You nod, his hand still on your thigh. 

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @starfleetteddybear @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer @Movhoney.

[sansaorgana]

— QUICK LEARNERS

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You're sent to Giedi Prime to marry your distant cousin and become the new Na-Baroness. However, your new husband seems to ignore you. You come up with an idea how to gain his attention and you ask one of the Generals from your homeworld to teach you how to wield a blade.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — While writing my fanfic "Forbidden Fruit" I was inspired by the mediterranean and islamic cultures creating the Reader's homeworld. This time I was inspired by my own Slavic culture but as usual – the physical appearance of the Reader is not described. 💘 I really like coming up with all these new planets! Also, I decided it makes sense for the world inspired by the Slavic culture to be related to The Harkonnens, therefore Feyd and Reader are cousins but they're distantly related (as most noble people are, I guess).

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood – the Reader is injured, slight incest (distant cousins), SMUT, oral, hints of breeding kink, Feyd is a bit ooc in my opinion but... so what? he's cute 🤪

WORD COUNT — 7,840

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

QUICK LEARNERS

Your father, The Tsar, worked very hard to make this union happen. Baron Harkonnen had wanted his heir and nephew to marry one of The Emperor’s daughters but your father’s relentless visits, letters and arguments finally worked.

Your family was cousins with The Harkonnen bloodline. You were more used to their culture and you shared similar values. Of course your house was not as important as The Harkonnens. In fact, your planet was under The Harkonnen rule and your father only governed it in their name although his family had been allowed to keep their titles.

Giedi Prime was an industrial planet without any nature which was the opposite of your homeworld. Morana was mostly dark green – a never ending forest full of valuable resources. Sadly, most of them were being transported to Giedi Prime for nearly nothing in return. Your father was determined for The Baron to make it up to your people for all the centuries of colonisation and turn their Grand Duchess into The Harkonnen Baroness.

Your home world was supplying Giedi Prime with important raw materials and fearsome warriors that were known all over the galaxy as ruthless beasts in combat. Growing up in such an environment, you would easily adapt to Giedi Prime even though it lacked the greenery completely. You would make a much better Baroness than any spoiled daughter of The Emperor. Those were your father’s arguments at least.

So, you were sent to Giedi Prime with dozens of heavy wooden chests filled with your most precious belongings. Everything you loved, everything that was defining you – it had to fit in these boxes. You couldn’t take the forests with you nor the rivers, the songs of your people, the smile of your mother, the warmth of the fireplace. All you could take were the dresses and jewels, a few books. And a burden of the realisation how big responsibility had been placed upon your shoulders. To make your parents proud and to become a good na-baroness… and then Baroness. To give heirs.

You knew Feyd-Rautha from all the official ceremonies. You had never talked to him before, he would only greet you with a head nod and a word cousin in his low, raspy voice that was sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. A few times before you had watched him fight in the arena. He was an incredible warrior but his combats were for show which was disappointing for a woman from Morana – a planet known for its art of warfare.

You weren’t scared of him and you weren’t taken aback by his Harkonnen nature nor looks. You were used to The Harkonnens visiting your planet or you visiting theirs with your parents for official events and celebrations. However, you were not pleased with this union either. He didn’t seem to be a pleasant man and you didn’t like the responsibility that came with this marriage.

Your wedding was grand. Every governor and leader of the planet under The Harkonnen rule was invited. Your dress was white, decorated with traditional red embroidery of your people. On your head there was a flower crown made out of flowers that grew on Morana. But seeing all the people around you, you quickly realised it probably was the last time you’d wear something white. No one around was wearing any colour except for black. The only white clothes you could see were the ones of the servants.

The wedding party was a display of power and violence but it wouldn’t make a girl from your planet flinch. You focused on the cake and tried to remember all the advice your mother had given to you regarding your upcoming wedding night.

She had been straightforward with you. A strong Tsarina like her would never hesitate or shy away. She had told you it would be best if you took your husband from behind so you wouldn’t have to look into his face. And she had made it clear that the marriage should be consummated. No matter how much it would hurt.

You observed your new husband with the corner of your eye but he looked the same as his wedding kiss had felt – bored and unimpressed. Cold.

Around midnight he stood up to leave the table without making any announcements. Panicked, you glanced at your new servant girls and they nodded at you. So, you stood up as well and gathered the fabric of your dress to lift it gently and follow him down the corridor.

He walked fast, you could barely catch up. His silence was heavy between you two. After all, you were his wife now – you were supposed to share a life together – but he chose to treat you like air instead.

When the doors leading to his chambers opened, you entered them right after your new husband. That was when he turned around as if he was surprised. He looked you up and down with contempt and you realised that he had not been pleased with this union.

Perhaps because you were not The Emperor’s daughter. Perhaps he wasn’t finding you attractive enough.

“Cousin,” he drawled as usual.

“Can you not call me that anymore?” You sighed.

“Wife,” you swore there was a shadow of a smirk on his face. But he didn’t say anything else and you felt helpless. You didn’t know how to talk to him.

You tried to remember your mother’s words. You weren’t there to have conversations with him.

“Husband,” you nodded your head at him and he watched with tilted head as you approached his huge black bed and bent over.

“What are you doing?” He snorted at you.

You couldn’t understand. You furrowed your brows and turned your head around. His sneering facial expression embarrassed you but you stayed in your position.

“Would you rather take me the other way around? I didn’t expect you to be a romantic,” you commented.

“I do not intend to take you at all,” Feyd shook his head. “I’m going to sleep. You do whatever,” he shrugged his arms and began to undress.

Clumsily, you straightened yourself and smoothed out the wrinkles of your dress. Once he was in his underwear, without a word he got under the cover and ignored you completely.

You watched in shock as he began to drift off to the land of dreams. You had no idea what to do. Not only you had humiliated yourself but also you had failed to consummate the marriage.

You crouched down and picked up all the pieces of clothing he had scattered all over the floor. Like a dutiful wife already, you folded them neatly and put them away on the chair by his desk. Then you removed the flower crown and your dress, thanking all the gods above that it was not a complicated piece because you had no idea how you’d manage to do that without your servants’ help. You tried to be as quiet as possible while doing that, not wanting to wake Feyd up and cause his anger.

Once you were in your linen underdress, you decided to just join him in the huge bed and go to sleep as well. You were laying as far away from him as possible as you didn’t want to bother him. It was no easy task because he decided to sleep right in the middle of it like he had forgotten already that he was married now and had to share.

You didn’t understand the situation you had found yourself in. When the small orb of light by your bedside turned off, you stared at the pitch black room as all your limbs tensed. You could hear Feyd’s soft snores and the distant sounds of your wedding party, the firework splashes of white ink in the night sky. Yet, you – the bride and the new na-baroness – just laid on the edge of the bed, feeling lonely and humiliated.

The weeks passed and you remained Feyd’s wife by name only. You shared your chambers with him but he was always awake before you and in the evening you were often asleep by the time he would join you in bed. There were days when you weren’t seeing each other at all. He was busy with training for his fights but also with fucking his concubines. You had found out about all of them from your servant girls.

The most important ones were three scary cannibalistic harpies. The servants were terrified of them because they could end up as their meal any time. There were also other women in your husband’s life but they were regular pleasure slaves and they did not matter as much. With his harpies he seemed to share some sort of bond.

Of course. Now it made sense. How could you even compare to such creatures? However, you did not even want to. You just hoped Feyd would finally be reminded – by his uncle or the medic – that he had to fulfil his duties and produce an heir.

You felt lonely and rejected. Your duties were not many and you quickly realised that most of them were nothing but a show off – just like your husband’s fights in the arena. It was probably because you were a woman and a new addition to the family. The Baron would never actually put you in charge of anything important.

Your only companions were your servant girls. You grew attached to them but they were no friends. Not because you thought of them as less but because of their timid personality. They were terrified of The Harkonnens and they were often trembling whenever they spotted your annoyance. Such a dynamic could not be a base of any real valuable friendship although your heart was breaking for them.

They had told you that the people of Giedi Prime liked you. You were not like your husband nor his family and you looked different because of the pigment of your skin and your hair. Sometimes, to your new black Harkonnen attire you would add a jewellery or a flower crown from your homeworld. The citizens of Giedi Prime adored the additional splash of colour. You expected Feyd-Rautha to scold you for that but he did not. He seemed not to care at all about you and what you were doing.

You had tried everything to get his attention and to seduce him. You had started to wear more revealing nightgowns to bed but he would ignore you. You had walked in on him taking a bath on purpose – pretending it was an accident. He hadn’t even flinched.

You had been asking him things about Giedi Prime and The Harkonnen history – making a fool of yourself by asking him things you had known already. He would always answer dryly and coldly; often without even sparing you a glance. Then he would go on ignoring you.

You had tried to move closer to him in bed at night. Pretending to be asleep, you had adjusted your body slowly until your arms touched. He had woken up abruptly and moved aside, stealing the blanket.

You nearly gave up but there was one more idea you were thinking of. You wanted to share a hobby with your husband. It could not be sex because he refused to touch you, which made you feel so unattractive that you didn’t even think of flirting with other men to cause his jealousy. His coldness made you feel ugly.

No, his other hobby was the blade. And you sometimes observed his training and they always made you miss your home. On Morana the warriors would train day and night just like him. You had often observed them with your father as he was telling you grand stories. And perhaps you were a lady, but you were your people’s Grand Duchess and you could handle the blade. Or so you had thought.

You found one of the generals of The Harkonnen army who was from your homeworld. He looked different than the rest of them because of his longer, braided hair and tattoos on his face that were your people’s spiritual symbols. However, like most of the important military men from your homeworld, he had been sent to Giedi Prime as a young boy to be trained under The Harkonnens. Such boys were some sort of a tribute in the same way your natural resources were. All those years spent under the black sun had made his natural skin colour a few tones paler. But amongst The Harkonnens he still looked the healthiest.

“General Bohumil,” you approached him one day after watching him train with other soldiers. He was putting his blades away as he raised an eyebrow at you, surprised to see you wandering around this part of the fortress.

“Slava, Grand Duchess (Y/L/N), My Lady Na-Baroness Harkonnen,” he bowed down. You smiled at the way he addressed you as it brought back memories of your homeworld where you were addressed as The Grand Duchess and with the word slava meaning glory as a sign of respect. “What brings you here, My Lady?” He asked.

“I was wondering if you’d find some time for me,” you began, a little nervously as he furrowed his brows. “To train me.”

“Train you, na-baroness?” General Bohumil hesitated. He was looking for the right words not to insult you in any way. “What does your husband think of such an idea, my Lady?”

“I don’t think he cares about what I do at all,” you admitted honestly with a shrug of your arms.

He would never say that but you could see the look in his eyes. You were a spoiled and bored noble lady in his eyes and he’d only waste his precious time on you. However, he was too scared to say no. Your question was not a proposition, it was an order. That was the way of The Harkonnens and that was the way your father ruled on Morana, too.

“Alright, my Lady. I can show you the basics,” he nodded. “We can start tomorrow. But I warn you, you can bruise or hurt yourself,” he added.

“I am aware. Those are natural consequences of a combat, General,” you smiled at him. “I will find you tomorrow,” you nodded and went back to your quarters, very pleased with yourself.

The first week of your trainings – and you had insisted on them to take place every day – General Bohumil was only making you stretch and prepare your muscles for the future extortion. No whining about it could cause him to change his mind. But after the first week you were finally given a blade to hold. It was quite short and light but very swift to move. The handle was wooden with your people’s spiritual symbols engraved on it. It was a traditional blade of the warriors from Morana and it made you feel so proud to be your father’s daughter to wield it. It made you feel as if you were home again.

You were also given a shield-like device that would protect you from hurting yourself or from the General hurting you in an accident. You noticed that he wore one, too, probably expecting you to clumsily wave the blade around and possibly cause some harm with it.

“Repeat the sentences after me, my Lady,” General Bohumil began to show you the most basic moves. You nearly rolled your eyes at how easy they seemed to be but you wanted to be an obedient student and to prove to him that you were not just a bored noble lady. You really wanted to learn.

He corrected your posture and the position of your feet as he lifted your elbow and then he began to show you the same sequence again.

You had many traits that were considered to be positive – it could be seen now, in the way you obediently performed your duties, how you desperately tried to make your marriage work and keep both of the families proud. You cared about your family’s honour, you were aware of the responsibility placed upon you. You would never sabotage your union; you were loyal and proud.

But you also possessed some traits that were considered to be negative – impatience was one of them. You didn’t want to keep repeating the same basic sequence a million times all over again, feeling like a child with a toy sword. You wanted to feel the adrenaline already like your husband when you watched him in combat or the warriors on your planet. Not listening to General Bohumil’s warnings, you started to spice up the sequence with the moves you had only seen in the gladiator arena before.

“My Lady, please, that is too advanced. We will get to it in the right time,” he sighed, trying his best to contain his anger. As a military man he was all about discipline and if you were a common soldier, he would lash out at you, you were sure of that. But you were his Grand Duchess and his Na-Baroness and he couldn’t even scold you. He could only calmly try to explain.

But you wouldn’t impress Feyd with the basic combat moves. You were sure that if he caught you now, he would laugh with contempt. No, you had to be better than that. And you hated to wait.

“This stupid shield,” you turned the device off as General’s eyes widened, “it’s distorting my view,” you whined.

“My Lady, please, turn it back on,” he pleaded. “Your eyes will get used to it after a few weeks of training, I can assure you of that.”

“A few weeks?!” You sneered. “When you talk to me using such long amounts of time, I get discouraged already. You think I’m not good enough to master this art faster than that?”

“It’s not about your personal skills, na-baroness, I assure you. Every man needs time to get better,” he swallowed thickly as he watched you play with the knife in your hand. “Please, turn the shield back on.”

Like a spoiled child, encouraged by the fact that your little hand tricks with the knife came easy to you, you took a step ahead and attacked him. In one swift movement he defended himself as he crossed his knife with yours but you could feel he was not using his full force.

You tried one of the tricks you had seen while observing the fights and you tried to quickly take a step back and attack him once again but straight into his ribcage this time. However, you were not experienced enough to try such a move and the knife clumsily slid through your hand. You hissed out of pain as it sliced through the leather fabric of your pants and through the tender flesh of your thigh.

The General’s eyes widened as he turned his shield device off and approached you quickly. You were in so much pain, you were gritting your teeth but you refused to let out a scream or to sit down. You didn’t want him to see you like this although the tears were already pricking your eyes and you could feel the warm liquid dripping down your leg.

“Na-Baroness!” There was a worry in his voice but he used a scolding tone, not being able to hold himself back anymore.

“Don’t even mention it. I know,” you drawled through gritted teeth. “It’s my fault, I know.”

He nodded his head, relieved that you were not blaming your injury on him.

“You’re hurt, my Lady. Let me escort you to the medical wing,” he insisted.

“No, thank you. I will go there myself,” you told him. “I will be back when it’s healed,” you added and limped out of the door as quickly as your pain allowed you, too.

You wanted to be alone so you could finally start crying out of pain, although you made sure to do it quietly. You were thankful that the medical wing was close to the training section of the fortress for strategic reasons.

Your servant girls had picked you up from the medical wing. They had been looking at you as if you were crazy but they hadn’t dared to say a word. Your thigh was now disinfected and bandaged and your servants helped you to change into a nightgown as they recommended you to go to bed earlier than usual and get rest. They left you alone in your chamber and assured that they would be nearby if you needed them.

But you weren’t sleepy. You felt ashamed and humiliated as you kept overthinking your stupid behaviour. You knew one thing only – you didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to find out about this accident. He would think of you as weak and foolish… and he wouldn’t be wrong.

You were laying on the bed and reading a book, making sure that your leg was covered by both your nightgown and the duvet. When Feyd entered the bedroom – earlier than usual – you started to suspect he had found out about your accident and wanted to see with his own eyes. You pretended not to pay any attention to him but you watched him from the corner of your eye as you struggled to focus on the book. He sat by his desk and sighed while reading some letters that had been placed there in the morning and you realised it was his time to perform his na-baron duties as he was supposed to deal with the paperwork. He hated this.

Knowing that he was already angry at the fact that he had to answer the letters, you were trying not to bother him at all and you controlled your own breath so it wouldn’t be too loud. On the other hand, you had to admit that Feyd-Rautha had never aimed his anger at you… so far. You had known about his nature before and although you were not scared of him, you had expected him to get violent at times. That had never happened, though. 

Sometimes you wished it had. Because at least he’d react anyway to your presence instead of treating you like air.

Deep in your thoughts, you lost your focus and dropped your book with a loud thump sound on the floor. You froze and glanced at your husband’s shoulders. He stiffened and you quickly leaned in to grab the book, forgetting completely about your new injury as the duvet and your nightgown pulled up and revealed your bandage.

Once you straightened your back with the book in your hand, you noticed the exposed thigh and quickly covered it, hoping that Feyd had not seen it. You looked up and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him staring at you intensely.

“What is it?” He asked with squinted eyes.

He talked to you so rarely that you nearly startled at the harsh and unpleasant sound of his raspy voice. You wondered if you’d ever get used to it.

“This? A book, dear husband. Something about the politics,” you chuckled nervously as you waved your hand, playing a fool.

Feyd stood up and approached the bed as you watched with terror in your eyes. He aggressively tossed the duvet aside and your skin got covered with goosebumps. He lifted up the hem of your nightgown and you hated to admit how electrifying his fingertips felt on your thigh. He had never touched you like that before.

“Who hurt you?” He asked after seeing the bandage again. His cold eyes stared into yours with a burning gaze.

“What do you care?” You asked and shrugged your arms. “It’s nothing,” you assured. “An accident.”

“I care,” he assured you but without any delicacy. “As your husband I am responsible for taking care of you and your honour,” he pointed out. “And as my wife you are my property. Whoever raises their hand on you, raises their hand on me and the Baronship,” he added.

“I did it to myself,” you bit on your lower lip and he tilted his head, visibly in disbelief. “If you paid more attention to me, you’d find out more things about me and you’d know by now that I tend to be clumsy sometimes,” you hissed at him and tried to cover your thigh again but he kept his hand there.

“I do pay attention to you,” he stated. “I observe you. I know when you’re lying,” he clenched his jaw. “Why are you defending the person who hurt you?”

“I’m not lying,” you protested.

“But you’re hiding something from me,” Feyd was relentless.

“Then we are only fair,” you put the book down as you looked at him angrily. “Your whole life is a secret kept away from me. Can’t I have mine?”

“Women on Giedi Prime do not have the same freedom as women on your planet do,” your husband reminded you. “A wife belongs to her husband in a way he will never belong to her.”

“What a relief then that I am not your wife,” you raised an eyebrow and he pursed his lips as he gave you a questioning look. “Because you have not consummated the union and refused so far to perform your duty and secure our bloodline.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Feyd snorted and looked away. “Stupid woman.”

“I do realise I am a disappointment to you. I am not one of the Imperial Princesses and I am not as interesting as your concubines. Not important enough, not attractive enough,” you decided to finally take your chance and tell him everything you had been feeling lately since it was the first opportunity to have some sort of conversation with your husband. He still refused to lay his eyes on you again. “I feel lonely, abandoned and rejected. Homesick. I want to be a good wife. I want to be a good na-baroness. But you’re not even giving me a chance. Out of boredom, I asked one of the generals to teach me how to fight and I hurt myself during training. Yes, it was pathetic of me. Go on, laugh. Make fun of me,” you encouraged him ironically. “At least it will be the very first reaction from you given to me in a long time.”

“Stop it! Stop,” Feyd-Rautha barked at you as he stood up and turned his back on you. He clutched his hands on the chair by his desk.

“Does the sound of my voice repulse you, too?” You asked, angrily. Now, when you finally let all these things out, you didn’t want to stop.

“You don’t understand!” He exclaimed and turned around to look at you with so much intensity that you curled up on the bed, feeling small and vulnerable. After all, he was a strong warrior and you were only a wounded prey. Like one of the rabbits in the forests on Morana, hunted by the hound dogs.

“Then explain it to me,” you whispered. “You owe me that at least.”

“I hurt everything I touch,” Feyd’s confession was sudden and it shocked you both. After a long while of silence between you two, he continued. “Just like him. It’s what this whole family is like.”

“I thought you liked to hurt,” you pointed out.

“Not you,” he answered nearly inaudibly. It was difficult for him to confess those things. You blinked a few times in disbelief.

“Why not me?” You asked, carefully.

“You’re supposed to be my wife. But I… I don’t know how to be a husband,” he looked at you again. You could swear that his sickly pale cheeks flushed slightly. “I was never… taught,” he explained.

“I didn’t expect you to be,” you admitted. “I knew life with you would be difficult. I knew you enough to know that. But nothing could prepare me for being… ignored. Completely,” you made your own confession as your heart pounded in your chest. You moved closer to him and reached your hands out, taking his gently and he didn’t even flinch. He just allowed it to happen, so you squeezed his cold fingers. “I am sorry I am not the wife you wanted.”

“It is not about that,” Feyd looked into your eyes. “And I do not ignore you. I let you be here. Sleep in my bed.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that was already a sign of affection,” you rolled your eyes.

“Protection,” he fixed you. “I don’t trust anyone here. They all work for my uncle,” he lowered his voice. “And as my wife, you are under my protection. If you want to learn how to fight,” he sighed and let go of your hands to sit on the edge of the bed again and reveal your bandaged thigh, “although I do not approve of that, from now on, it will be me training you. Do you understand? I don’t want any other man to teach you. I would never let this happen,” his fingertips brushed on your bandage and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

“I understand,” you nodded, trying not to smile too widely. Not exactly how you had imagined it but your plan to get your husband’s attention seemed to be working.

Feyd looked at your face again as his hand caressed your hair and cheek. You got startled at that at first but then you relaxed under his touch.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know how to act around… a wife,” he admitted. “All I know is that she should not be treated like a common concubine.”

“So that is why you prefer to be around them. Because at least you know what to do,” you pointed out and he nodded. “You could have told me that.”

He laughed at your words, grinning with that black smile of his. It made you chuckle, too, as you realised how stupid your words were.

“That’s right. The Harkonnens don’t talk about their feelings,” you guessed.

“Our what?” Feyd squinted his eyes at you as his face became serious again. “I don’t know anything about the arrangement between your father and my uncle. But the way you acted on our first night together, it made me realise you are not here by your own will. It brings me pleasure when my concubines fear me but I do not wish for my wife to be scared.”

“I’m not scared of you, Feyd-Rautha,” you assured him. “I have never been.”

He looked a little surprised by your confession.

“You admired me then,” he seemed to be proud of himself.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” you cooled down his enthusiasm. “You annoyed me,” you explained and he gave you a scolding look. However, he was more disappointed than angry. “You’re a spoiled Harkonnen brat.”

“Look who’s talking. Like you’re not a spoiled little noble lady who decided she wants to learn how to wield a knife out of boredom,” he pointed out.

“I know, I do not deny. Perhaps we are not a bad match at all,” you giggled and his eyes sparkled again. “I’m not used to warriors cheating in the arena, you know.”

“He says it is not the time yet to show my real abilities,” Feyd explained himself quickly, a little embarrassed that you pointed out his cheating. Honour was important to him and it was his weak spot.

“In the bedroom as well?” You raised an eyebrow, surprising your own self with your boldness. “Perhaps you have not been taught about being a husband but you surely know what your main duty is.”

“You’re eager,” he smirked.

“I am not a concubine but I am a woman like they are. I have my own needs and desires. You do not make it easy, ignoring me after coming to bed late at night, smelling like fresh sweat, blood and leather,” you pointed out.

“I fuck like I fight,” he warned you as his pupils darkened. His face was now so close to yours that you felt his hot breath on your mouth and his eyelashes tickled your cheeks.

“Is that a promise?” You whispered.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he snorted at you and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You’re right. You have to show me,” you teased.

“No,” he moved back suddenly and you felt a sharp pain in your heart. He was so close… you nearly had him. “I don’t trust myself around you,” he admitted. “You will show me,” he told you as you raised your eyebrow.

“Me?” You swallowed thickly as his words.

“I’m yours,” he said. “Do whatever you wish with me. If a child is what you so badly want, to make your parents happy, to make my uncle happy,” he explained with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “then go on, explore, have fun. At your own pace.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as you realised that he was inviting you to initiate an intimacy between you two. You panicked as you had never expected that he’d want you to take a lead in the bedroom.

“I do not want to have a child to make anyone happy,” you fixed him. “Anyone but me. I want to secure our position on Giedi Prime,” you explained.

“So dutiful,” Feyd smirked.

“We share some values, dear husband,” you nodded and moved closer to him with a soft hiss as your injury reminded you of its presence.

“Easy, wife,” he watched you and you smirked as you put your arms around his neck.

“Are you sure you’re not doing it because you’re avoiding the paperwork?” You asked and pointed at the desk with your chin. Feyd sighed and you giggled. “I knew it,” you bit on your lower lip and sat astride him.

The first thing you did was to take off his shirt. You had observed his body many times before and the sight of his hard muscles had been the most delightful one. You tossed the shirt aside and gasped softly at your husband’s smooth pale skin. You allowed your fingertips to explore every crease, every bump, every vein and every tendon. Carefully, you leaned in and breathed in his scent as your lips softly brushed his shoulder.

His body was a work of art. Daily workouts and trainings were working miracles. He was strong and flexible. The sight alone was enough to make you feel hot. You began to feel the wetness between your legs as you allowed your fingertips to explore the upper part of his body. You tangled your legs behind his waist and moved your hands to his back, feeling the bumpy skin full of thin scars scattered all over. You had noticed them before but only now you gained the courage to ask him about them.

“Was it him?” You asked and Feyd nodded, carefully watching your reaction. But you didn’t flinch or make a disgusted face. You were sad about it. The scars were old. He had to be a young and scared boy once, tortured by his uncle to turn him into the ruthless killing machine he was now.

You leaned in to place a soft kiss upon his cheek.

“Turn around,” you asked and he looked unsure. “You said I could explore and play. I want you to turn around,” you repeated and he nodded, hesitantly, before moving away softly, making sure he wouldn’t hurt your injured thigh. Then he turned his back on you and looked behind his shoulder to see what you were about to do.

You put your hands around his waist and moved closer, still caressing the hard muscles of his abdomen, you leaned in and left a trail of soft kisses up and down his scarred back. From the short conversation you managed to have with your husband you quickly realised that what Feyd-Rautha had never known in his life was tenderness. You wanted to be the first and only person to give it to him. You were his wife and that was your job.

He flinched at the feeling of your soft lips upon his scars but then he relaxed. You lowered the hands resting on his muscular chest and put them on his hips as you shyly hesitated for a while before finally placing one of your palms on his crotch. Innocently peppering his back with delicate kisses, your hand started to massage his bulge through the fabric of his pants. He groaned softly and you froze.

“Don’t stop,” he scolded you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you took the hand away and moved back. “You told me I could do it at my own pace. I am not a concubine to order me around,” you reminded him and he turned around to face you again, surprised by your tone. “I am not a shy mouse, Feyd-Rautha. You seem to be aware that women on Morana have more rights. I was raised by a strong Tsarina.”

“Forgive me, I am still learning,” he answered with an amount of sincerity that left you speechless for a moment. As if he really tried to be a good husband.

“It’s quite alright,” you caressed his shoulder. “Lay down for me?” You encouraged and he nodded, quietly.

Feyd moved up on the bed to rest his head on the pillow and you crouched down, waiting for him to be on display for your needy hands. The fact that this terrifying warrior that nearly everyone feared seemed to be so obedient for you just because you were his wife was making you even more and more aroused.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured as you caressed his chest again. “I mean it.”

“So are you,” he confessed as he looked up at you and you shyly lowered your gaze. “I mean it,” he repeated your words.

“I haven’t felt very beautiful lately,” you admitted.

“I didn’t know,” he confessed.

You didn’t want to talk about it now. You lowered yourself to his neck and sucked on the soft skin only to soothe it with a kiss right after. You went down with your kisses, making sure to leave it upon every inch of his torso before you finally found yourself facing his crotch. His pants looked very tight at the moment. Too tight.

Shyly but curiously, you unbuttoned them and pulled them down with his underwear, watching his hard cock twitching at the feeling of your hot breath. His size impressed you but also made you anxious. You helped Feyd to get rid of his clothes completely and tossed them on the floor before leaning in again.

You grabbed his length carefully as he hissed out of pleasure, trying not to think of all the concubines he had before you – concubines who knew how to please him way better than you did. You hesitated before placing a delicate kiss on the tip.

“Be patient with me, I am only learning,” you looked up, giving him puppy eyes. He was looking down at you with darkened pupils and haze in his gaze.

“Have fun down there,” he growled and threw his head back. You giggled and went back to the soft kisses and kitten licks as your hand pumped his length.

“I’m glad you didn’t take me on our wedding night,” you admitted. “This is so much more fun,” you squeezed his tip and he bucked his hip with a grunt as you watched the black precum leaking out.

You had been educated enough by your mother, servants, medics and all the explicit books you could find in the library. You smirked and licked him clean before lowering your head and taking him as far down your throat as you were able to. You kept yourself steady by holding his muscular thighs but when you felt his cock twitching a little, you let go quickly; your drool mixed with his thick black precum leaked down your chin. Feyd looked up with an annoyed expression on his face but he didn’t say anything this time.

“We can have more fun once I’m expecting. Now we can’t waste any of that, can we?” You tilted your head and pulled your nightgown up to your hips before moving up and lining his cock with your glistening pussy. You swallowed thickly at the sight of how hard and big he was.

“Take your time,” Feyd put his hands on your hips. “It’s a lot to take,” he bragged.

“Oh, so you think I can’t handle it?” You raised an eyebrow.

Just like when it came to wielding a blade, you didn’t like being told that you couldn’t handle something. You were an impatient lady.

“I am your wife,” you reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself. The feeling of his swollen tip brushing your clit made you shiver but you bravely kept a poker face on. “I was made to take your cock and carry your children,” you added. “No matter how big it is, I’m going to take it.”

Feyd winked at you and your heart skipped a beat at that. He could be adorable at times, you had to admit. It made you happy that you could finally experience this side of him. It was worth all the pain your injury had been causing you.

You lowered yourself some more, digging your fingers into his shoulders as he tightened the squeeze on your hips, surely bruising them, too. You hissed and shut your eyes as you threw your head back.

The pain mixed with pleasure, the overwhelming fulfilment with an endless desire to feel him even deeper, to fill you even further, to make you swell and heavy with his children. When you finally sat fully on his cock, you let out a moan of his name as your walls twitched and squeezed him.

“Easy, wife, take your time,” he reminded you. His hands were keeping you down, not letting you move for a while. He was giving you time to adjust to his size and you opened your eyes to look at him below you. You gasped at the admiration on his face. All those weeks of feeling unattractive suddenly vanished from your memory.

You were a daughter of your planet. Morana was known for its fertile soil like you would be known for bearing his heirs. You were his goddess at that moment but you didn’t feel the need to be cruel towards your subject.

“I want you closer,” you breathed out and he nodded, sitting up very carefully, making sure not to hurt you. Once his back rested on the pillow behind him, you clinged to his chest and joined your lips with his in a kiss as your hips began to move slowly.

Feyd’s hands moved your hips and helped you to find the right pace and rhythm. Soon enough you were bouncing on that big cock with ease that came with desire. Feeling that you didn’t require so much of his help anymore, one of your husband’s hands moved down and rested on your bandage. His touch was unusually gentle and you moaned into his mouth, not breaking the hungry kiss even for a second.

After all those weeks of being left abandoned and touch starved, you just wanted to devour him. Nothing mattered; certainly not your wound, not the sweat, not the exhaustion. Your only goal was to chase the high that was coming.

Feeling that your movements became chaotic, Feyd cupped your face and groaned into your mouth as his own hips picked up the pace, taking control over you. You trembled and let out muffled cries of pleasure as he rutted roughly inside of you through your orgasm. Not long after you felt his thick black cum spilling deep inside of you as both of your bodies relaxed.

You broke the kiss and tried to catch your breath. Your husband wiped all the tears off of your cheeks and laid your head on his shoulder gently. You hugged his chest and cuddled him like that in silence.

“Do you remember what you promised?” He asked and you furrowed your brows. “That next time you want to train, you’re coming to me.”

“Yes,” you smiled to yourself. “But I am only learning,” you added, shyly. “I don’t want you to laugh at me.”

“If you’re a quick learner with the blade like you are in the bedroom, then you will soon laugh at me,” he assured you and caressed your back as you giggled into the crook of his neck.

“You’re a quick learner, too, Feyd-Rautha,” you looked up as he looked down, confused. “How to be a husband, I mean,” you explained.

You watched the servant girls painting your husband’s beautiful body with the black war paint as you caressed your swollen bump through the fabric of your dress. They finished their job and took a few steps back with their heads kept low. One of them handed you the bowl of the black liquid and you approached him as he smiled.

You dipped your finger in the paint and drew one of the symbols of your people on his chest. He looked down, questioningly.

“And what does this one mean?” He asked.

“It ensures good favours of the gods and victory in battle,” you explained softly.

“You know that he hates it when you do that,” Feyd reminded you. Baron Harkonnen would prefer you to become a Harkonnen and give up your old ways completely instead of teaching Feyd more about your culture.

“I know,” you looked up. “That’s why I do that.”

In the beginning you had been indifferent to his uncle but the more you found out about him and the damage he had done to your husband, the more you hated him.

Feyd nodded at you and leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead.

“Na-Baron, five minutes,” one of the servants reminded him of the time left.

“I will bring you the hearts of my enemies,” he cupped your face as he looked deep into your eyes while making a promise.

“I have only one enemy,” you reminded him, “and he is not in the arena today.”

Feyd nodded quietly. He put his hand on your swollen belly and caressed it.

“Take care of your mother for me for a while,” he said and you chuckled with an eye-roll.

You watched him put the last pieces of clothes and take his blades. You couldn’t wait for the day when he’d become The Baron and he wouldn’t have to do it anymore. Even though the fights were fixed, you still feared for his life. And to think you had used to find this practice unhonourable. Now you were glad that his combats were cheated.

“Slava, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you blessed him.

He turned his head around for the last time to wink at you playfully and give you his black grin.

“I’ll be right back.”

MASTERLIST

[firewasabeast]

A couple years from now, right before buck and tommy’s wedding, maybe buck is feeling overwhelmed, his parents are late to the ceremony, or something’s going wrong and tommy comes into the dressing room. buck says he’s not supposed to be there as he pulls him in for a hug. Then he notices tommy has a box in his hand. It’s wooden, not very big, but it’s something bucks never seen before. They sit down and tommy opens it. Inside the box are pictures of buck and tommy from the past two years. There’s a napkin from their first (official) date. There’s a key from bucks old apartment, it’s the spare he gave to tommy three months into their relationship. a penny they found on the sidewalk that buck said was a good luck charm cause it was heads up. There’s a ‘fall risk’ hospital bracelet from a time tommy got hurt and buck made a really cheesy ‘Id risk falling in love with you’ joke once he knew tommy was okay. there’s a button he saved from his shirt the night they got engaged and were a little too eager to celebrate. and a cork from the wine bottle they opened when they had their friends over to tell them they were getting married.

By the time tommy’s done going through it all, buck can’t help the tears falling down his face as he manages to stutter out, “y- you made us a box? we… we have a box?” And tommy nods, gives him a gentle kiss and answers “we have a box”

And then buck forgets any worry he had, because all he cares about is marrying this perfect human being.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Champagne Problems | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Oh, hi! Truly, sometimes you just don't know the answer till someone's on their knees and asks you, you know? Also I hope my taglist works this time but who the fuck knows.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: engagement / wedding talk, mentions of alcohol

Nat flipped through your list of invitees, crossing off a few names as she scanned the page. She took it upon herself to help you stuff, address, and mail the invitations for your engagement party, because in her words, you were “dragging your feet”. There were only five or so weeks left until the event, and you just hadn’t found the time to sit down and sort out the invitations. At least, that’s the excuse you told Nat- and yourself. 

“Okay, we’re finally making some progress, we’re about halfway done,” Nat called from the dining table. “Shit. Without me, no one would even show up to this fucking party.” She didn’t mean for you to hear that second part- but her voice echoed through your nearly empty apartment. 

Almost everything you owned was gone; either sold, or stored, or moved into the house you were to share with your fiancé, Cole. All that remained was your clothes, your bed, and a few odds and ends. It would’ve been far easier, far more convenient, to stay in your new house instead of living out of cardboard boxes. And far more aesthetically pleasing. The house was a nice- nicer than you’d ever be able to afford yourself. And it was beautiful. There was a lush garden in the backyard. A swing on the front porch. Even a white picket fence. You described it to everyone as “picturesque.”

But the lease on your apartment wasn’t up quite yet. You still had a few weeks until your move-out date, and you wanted to soak in as much time at the old place as you could. You loved it here. Loved the worn wooden floors and the doors that didn’t hang straight. The dent in the wall where Bucky bonked his metal elbow when you popped out of the hall closet and scared him. The corner in your bedroom where you and Bucky made a blanket fort during last winter’s blizzard. Memories papered the walls and covered the floors of this place- and most of them involved Bucky.

This was home. And while the new house was great- and fully paid for by your fiancé’s wealthy parents- it didn’t feel like you belonged there. It didn’t welcome you in or fill you with warmth. Cole’s mom said it just needed the right décor. Your friends told you it needed time. But deep down, you knew that no amount of beautiful area rugs, no amount of time, could turn your house with Cole into a home. There would always be one thing missing, one glaring and flagrant void. 

Bucky.

“You’re inviting Bucky?” Nat looked up from the list and found you coming around the corner with a bowl of popcorn in hand. Her incredulous expression nearly stopped you in your tracks.

You gave her a strange look, “Yeah, of course. He’s my best friend. Why wouldn’t he be invited?”

“Okay, first of all,” Nat scoffed, “He’s your best friend- present company excluded. And second, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

You threw a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth as you settled into your chair. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Nat rolled her eyes, “Because I don’t think it’s smart to invite the guy you’re actually in love with to a party celebrating your engagement to another man.” She threw you a shrug, “but hey, that’s just me.”

“Woah-” you almost choked on your popcorn. “I’m not in love with Bucky.”

It was the most absurd thing Nat had ever heard. “I’m not in love with Bucky!” she jeered, imitating your voice. “Yeah, right.”

“Okay, okay, jesus,” you raised your hands, miming a surrender. “I did- at one point- have romantic feelings for him,” you conceded, “but that was a while ago.”

“Oh, at one point?” Nat crossed her arms over her chest. “You say that like you had a small crush on him for a week, when we both know your ‘romantic feelings’ have been a constant ever since you became friends with the guy.”

Her accusations weren’t necessarily wrong. But they were loud. And pointed. And rubbed salt in your many wounds. “It was …” you gave a small shake of your head. “We never got the timing right, you know? It just didn’t work in our favor.” The heartache with which you’d grown familiar reared its ugly head. “But it’s fine,” you told her. “I’m engaged, now. So.”

Ever since you boyfriend, Cole, became your fiancé, you’d done your best to kill and bury your longing for Bucky. But your feelings for him weren’t so easily vanquished. They were strong and boisterous and loud. At least a few times a day, they launched themselves at you out of nowhere. At work. At the grocery store. At dinner with Cole and his parents. Nowhere was safe. Everywhere you went, things reminded you of Bucky. Of your favorite person. Of the person to whom you were not engaged. 

The desperate pining for him tore your still-healing wounds wide open. Every time your gaze landed on your engagement ring, every time a friend mentioned your impending wedding, a sharp pain sliced through your chest. And each time, you were forced to acknowledge the fact that you were not, in fact, getting married to Bucky.

 “Um, anyway…” you cleared your throat, “Of course, I’m inviting Bucky. And the subject isn’t open for debate, by the way. It’s my party and I’ll invite who I want to.” 

You grabbed an invitation and a blank envelope from the stacks in front of Nat and positioned them in front of you. If Nat didn’t want you inviting Bucky, there was a more than significant chance that she’d conveniently “forget” to address an invite for him. And so, you scrawled his name and address onto an envelope and affixed a stamp in the corner. Come hell or high water, he was going to get his invitation. Even if he didn’t want to come. 

The night of the party arrived sooner than you expected. Sooner than you’d hoped. 

The house was abuzz with people running in and out, carrying food and linens and liquor; you knew you’d be requiring the latter in order to survive the night. Florists arrived to cover the house in perfect, beautiful blooms. A team of caterers brought with them enough fine food to feed an army. And a flawless, two-tiered cake with delicate lacy piping sat on the dining room table, complete with yours and Cole’s initials. All of it was perfect. Picturesque, really. It was exactly what you wanted- but Cole wasn’t who you wanted it with.

Every few minutes, you checked your phone in search of a text from Bucky. The deadline to RSVP had come and gone almost two weeks ago, and he never gave you an answer one way or another. He ignored your “hey, are you coming to my party?” texts, and your “just wanted to know if you plan on coming to the party” voicemails. He ignored almost all of your correspondence, actually. 

Lately, he’d only been answering about a third of your texts and a quarter of your calls. It was unlike him. It was unheard of, really. On multiple occasions in the past, he answered your calls while taking heavy fire; you could actually hear the bullets whizzing by on his end of the line. But now, things were quiet. And you forced yourself to accept that fact that he was not coming to your party.

The festivities kicked off around seven-thirty, and you found your house full to the brim with party goers. All of Cole’s friends showed up. His childhood friends, his college buddies, his old soccer team- they all arrived with bells on. And your friends were well represented, too. High school pals, your book club, a close coworker or two. They were all so excited to see you, so happy that you found someone. 

Even Bucky’s teammates made an appearance. They were his friends first, of course, but growing close with him meant growing close to them. And you’d build unbreakable bonds with Sam, Nat, Wanda, and Maria. They were thrilled for you and more than happy to attend your party- even if Bucky wouldn’t be there. 

With your house so full, so jam-packed with friends, you thought you wouldn’t notice the pain of Bucky’s absence. But you did. Of course, you did. And you found yourself feeling painfully alone in a sea of people. 

Without Bucky there, the night seemed to fall flat. The flowers lost their vibrance. The food was bland. And the music sounded disjointed and off-tempo. Things just weren’t the same. 

People swarmed you every few seconds, hollering their congratulations and asking to see the ring again. They asked you about venues and dresses, bridesmaids and center pieces. Everyone meant well- you knew they did. But as the throngs of people refused to relent with their questions about table linens, your chest began to tighten. A hard, concrete cast wrapped itself around your lungs, preventing them from expanding. A suffocating lack of oxygen rendered your dizzy. It was all too much. The people and the music and the impending nuptials. Even the sensation Cole’s hand on your waist was too much, too tight, too smothering. 

With a whispered “be right back”, you moved swiftly through the crowd and escaped out the front door. If you could just get some space, some quiet, some oxygen, you’d be fine.

The door provided you with much needed support as you tilted and teetered on unsteady feet. The panic, the alcohol, the high heels- it all combined to form a dizzying, possibly lethal combination. But at least you were outside. As least you were free. The cool night air prickled at your skin, and finally, your lungs filled to capacity. A few deep inhales cleared the fog from your mind. With closed eyes, you tipped your head back against the door and let yourself enjoy the quiet. Sure, the music from your playlist leaked into the night air, but this was the closest thing to silence you’d experienced all night. And you were not going to complain. 

As your heartbeat slowed, you told yourself it would be okay. That everything was going to be fine. That you’d figure out how to handle the situation. And, if only for a moment, you actually believed your fabrications. A sense of peace wrapped around you like a blanket, and a welcome calm settled into your bones.

But the creak of a porch step yanked your eyes open. 

And there you found Bucky, frozen on the second to last stair, with giftbox in hand. He eyed you as though he were a prey animal, wondering if you’d seen him, waiting for his chance to escape. But it was too late; he’d been caught.

“Buck?”

He forced a smile, “Hey.”

“Hi!” you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck with an intensity that would’ve injured a mere mortal. He reeled back a few paces as your momentum knocked into him. “I’m so glad you’re here! didn’t think you were coming!”

His arms draped loosely- weakly- behind your back. It wasn’t much- but it was better than no Bucky at all. And after he failed to respond to your messages, didn’t answer your calls, and made himself scarce over the last few months, you’d take whatever you could get. 

“Right. Yeah. Well, technically, I’m not-” He untangled himself from your arms and pointed at the perfectly wrapped giftbox. “I just wanted to drop off your present.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s-” Dismay dripped from your words, “Wait, you’re not staying?” 

Bucky gave a shake of his head. He avoided your eyeline and chose, instead, to look at anything other than you.  The grass. The porch light. His own shoes. “I can’t, sorry.”

It crushed you. Having him stop by for only a moment was far worse than him not showing up at all. Because now, you had to deal with the loss. The pain of his departure. For him to grant you the warmth of his presence, only to snatch it away moments later was almost cruel. How could he leave when you were finally seeing the world in color? How could he go when the music finally made sense with him by your side?

You didn’t want to beg. Didn’t want to make him feel bad. Didn’t want to seem pathetic. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “You can’t stay for even a little while?”

The disappointment in your voice broke his heart. And he had half a mind to forget his plan and allow you to escort him inside. But he stood firm. “I would,” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “But I have to go pick up a friend from the airport.”

The words hit you in a strange place. A pin-prick pain nipped at your chest- you’d caught him in a lie. “Buck, no offense, but all your friends are inside.” You gestured toward the house with a nod of your head. It was true- all of Bucky’s closest friends were dancing the night away in your living room. And he was caught red handed.

 “Right…” His teeth dug into the smooth flesh of his cheek; his eyes roamed the yard. He should’ve known better than to use such a lame excuse- he did know better. He couldn’t casually lie around you; you knew him too well. But the pressure got to him, and forced cracks into his cool, marble surface. He hadn’t even expected to see you tonight, let alone talk to you. The painful awkwardness of the moment ate through him like acid.

“So… you can stay?” Your words came out too desperate, too expectant. But you couldn’t help it. You’d do anything to get him to hang around- even if he didn’t seem excited about it. Hell, you’d beg him on your knees if that’s what it took. Anything to get him to stay. 

“Uh, yeah,” he shrugged. “I guess I can.”

Finally, he let his eyes land on you. After choosing to avert his gaze for so long, he wasn’t strong enough to do so any longer. He had to look at you, to take in every detail of your face. But as he drank you in slowly, inch by inch, in the light of the full moon, a strange solemnity sunk its teeth into him. Perfectly imperfect curls framed your face. A flawless diamond sat at the hollow of your throat. You were even wearing his favorite lipstick of yours- the one he said made you look like a vintage Hollywood star. He eyed your delicate, lacy white dress. Your white strappy heels with bows on the ties. Your white nails. And the perfect, glistening diamond adorning the ring finger of your left hand. 

Everything about you was so beautiful. So bridal. It made his chest tight.

“You look really nice,” he said, almost bashful. “Beautiful.”

“I, um- thanks. Thank you.” 

This stupid white dress. With its stupid lace and its stupid pearls and its stupid bridal flare. You hated it. Resented it. Wanted to take scissors to its seams. But if you were to play the role of Cole’s blushing bride, you had to dress the part, didn’t you? You had to don your fiancée costume and take part in the production. 

But, regardless of your feelings about the outfit, your heart still flared at Bucky’s compliment. One simple word of praise from him had such a startling, intense effect on you. And suddenly, you were in high school again. He filled you with a sense of giddy adoration that you hadn’t experienced since the tenth grade. This was the stuff of love notes stuffed into lockers. Of first kisses under the bleachers. But your feelings for him could never be as fleeting or as shallow as those of your youth. No, this was the stuff of forever. 

“Hello?” Bucky gave you a wave. “You okay?”

An awkward laugh escaped your chest, “Yeah. Sorry, I kinda spaced out there for a second. Did you say something?”

“I said, what are you doing outside?” He eyed the packed house. Twinkling lights shone through the windows. Crowds of people danced and drank champagne. Music wafted through the air. “Shouldn’t you be in there? At the party? Cause, you know, it’s for you.”

Just the thought of going back to the party made your stomach turn. Part of you wondered if you might be able to hide outside all night; just stay in the yard until the festivities came to a close. Hell, maybe you could even run away. You could get pretty far if you started walking and didn’t look back. By the time the party ended, you could be deep in the heart of Brooklyn- you could be at Bucky’s.

“Yeah, no, I probably-  I should be inside. But, I’m just…” you took in a sharp breath. It hitched in your windpipe and got stuck for a moment. “I got a little overwhelmed, you know? With the noise, and the people and the… everything. So, I came out here to-” To hide. To escape. To flee. “To get some air.”

Bucky could’ve sworn he sensed something lurking beneath your calm surface. It was the slightest change in your voice, the smallest twitch of your brow. He clocked the way your hands never stilled. The way your teeth dug into the inside of your cheek. Something was off. 

He sat in the long silence, waiting for you to open the vault and show him your secrets. But the lock remained secure. You didn’t say anything else, didn’t hint at the source of your discontent. He eyed your manufactured smile, but couldn’t seem to crack it. 

Things never used to be this way. He didn’t keep secrets from you, and you wouldn’t dream of hiding anything from him- there was no reason to. Neither of you had to fear judgement or ridicule from the other. Your most embarrassing stories, Bucky’s darkest thoughts- they were all safe with the other. 

But an unfamiliar disconnect had pulled the two of you apart. And Bucky could no longer read your soul like a book.

“Everything’s okay, though. Right?” He eyed you with suspicion. With concern. 

You nodded- maybe too fervently. “Yeah. For sure,” a fake smile stretched across your face, “Just stressed, I guess.”

“And he treats you right?” It was one of the things Bucky worried about most. Sure, the house was nice. And the ring was huge. But did Cole speak to you with kindness? Did he show you empathy and understanding? Did he make you feel safe?

“Yes.” 

Bucky breathed a small sigh of relief. Knowing that Cole handled you with care brought a sliver of ease to his worried mind. “So, you’re happy then?” 

It was all Bucky ever wanted for you. A safe life, a happy life. But the answer wasn’t yes or no. This  was the farthest thing from a black and white situation. On more than one occasion, you told yourself to just be happy. You thought that if you willed it, if you said it with conviction- then it would be true. And the happiness you were supposed to feel around your fiancé would magically spring up around you. But it didn’t. Every day, you waited. Every day, you told yourself to just be fucking happy. Cole gave you everything. He was nice and agreeable and provided you with the resources to do anything you’d ever wanted. But the happiness never came. At one point, you decided you’d settle for contentment. But that too evaded you.

“Um, do you wanna sit?” It was the best subject change you could come up with on such short notice. “The porch is free. Come on.”

Before Bucky could respond, he found your fingers linked with his. Chills traveled up his arm, over his shoulder, and across his scalp. Even the most innocent of your touches sent his dopamine levels through the roof. He’d never experienced ecstasy like this ever before- and knew he never would again. Especially not after your wedding.

He knew it was selfish to feel anything less than happy for you. You were engaged, you were getting married- this was what you wanted. You wanted marriage. A lifelong partner. A “till death do us part” kind of relationship. And now, you finally had it. So, who was Bucky to ruin it for you? Who was he to hope that you’d leave Cole at the altar? He forbade himself from ever being that selfish. If he was truly your closest friend, he had to be happy for you- even if it meant that he could never be anything more than your friend. 

With his hand in yours, you led Bucky to the porch. And regardless of the brand-new patio furniture Cole’s parents gifted you, you and Bucky opted to sit on the steps. Crickets chirped every now and again. A cool breeze wafted through the trees, rattling the leaves. Voices and music and the clatter of dishes seeped through the windows. You didn’t notice any of it.

Because, finally, you had what you wanted- if only for a moment.

It was the simplest, most innocent desire you’d ever had. To sit on the front steps with Bucky. To share a home with him. To drink coffee next to him on the porch each morning. To watch the rain from safety of your porch swing with Bucky’s head in your lap. 

If you ignored the white dress and the engagement ring and the pop of champagne bottles, you could almost believe that this was Bucky’s house, too. That the two of you could go inside and retire to bed. That you could wake up in the morning, wrapped in his arms. You could almost believe it. Almost.

The two of you sat in silence, planning your words carefully. Conversation felt like a mine field, and one misstep could send either of you to your death. But the warmth radiating off Bucky’s his body wrapped you in a familiar comfort. The narrow steps didn’t provide much in the way of sitting room, forcing Bucky to sit almost shoulder to shoulder with you- not that he’d ever complain. 

With every gust of wind, he caught a whiff of your perfume- the perfume he loved so much. The scent that often clung to his hair and weaved itself into the fabric of his clothes. It mixed with the smell of early spring- crisp air and new blooms. And he felt himself losing his resolve. He did his best to put distance between the two of you, to protect his heart and yours. But as you leaned your body against his and rested your head on his shoulder. He wondered why the fuck he’d ever leave your side.

You, too, lost all strength. And suddenly, you didn’t care about misspeaking. 

“I miss you, Buck…” Present tense. Because, even with him next to you, you missed him. Missed the way things used to be. “I feel like I never see you anymore.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with work, and trying to prove myself…” He let out a heavy sigh. Of course, regardless of his intentional distance from you, work really was killing him. “Everyone at SWORD is paranoid- they’re convinced that there’s a secret faction of Hydra growing within their organization.”

“Hmm, that’s so weird. I wonder why they’d be worried about that.” You gave bucky a nudge, and pulled a laugh- your favorite laugh- from his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he shot you an eye roll. “But you’re probably really busy, too. With all the wedding planning.”

His mention of the wedding shattered your perfect, maladaptive daydreams. All the noise from the party once again filled your consciousness. And the weight of Cole’s engagement ring felt like an anchor, dragging you down to the deepest, loneliest sea. Bucky wished he hadn’t brought it up as you removed your head from his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, no. It’s been-” you felt yourself closing off a bit, and did your best to fight it. “I haven’t actually planned a single thing. At all. So.”

Bucky gave you a strange look. It wasn’t like you to put things off, to procrastinate. He knew you to be an organized, ahead of the curve type of person. You were always the one who had a plan, always the one who over-prepared. He figured that in the few months since your engagement, you’d have planned at least a few things- if not the entire wedding and honeymoon.

“Do you have a date at least?” He pulled out his phone, “I want to put it in my calendar.”

Bucky would be there to support you no matter what, even if watching you marry another man killed him.

“Um, no, there’s no date yet,” you said. “Cole’s parents belong to a really fancy country club and said we could get married there- it’s beautiful. All I have to do is contact the club’s event coordinator and figure out which days are available. I just-” you dropped your eyes to the ground, “I haven’t yet.”

Bucky didn’t like your downcast gaze or your uncertain voice. There was something eating at you- he’d bet his life on it. Maybe you were just overwhelmed. Maybe you felt like you were behind on all the decisions that needed to be made. Either way, he wanted to help.

He threw you a shrug. “Well, there’s no rush, is there?” 

He took your left hand in both of his and gave it squeeze, but regretted the gesture when your engagement ring dug into his palm. You were getting married to someone else; he had to stop touching you like this. Had to stop treating you like you were still on the market. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or disrespect your relationship. And so, he dug his hands into his pockets. 

“I mean some people don’t start planning right away, right?” He said, “They wanna take their time and enjoy the engagement for a while, and-

“I’m not.”

“You’re not what?”

“Enjoying my engagement.” You had half a mind to take off the ring and launch it into the street. You’d dreamed about doing so every day, actually. Dreamed of throwing it on the subway tracks. Or dropping it through a grate on the street. 

Alarm ran through Bucky’s system like wildfire. “Is everything okay? Is it-”

Finally, you lifted your eyes and met Bucky’s stare.  

“I don’t want to marry him.”

Bucky felt his brain short circuit. He forgot how to breathe, how to speak. His thoughts tangled themselves together in tight, writhing knots. Words bounced off the walls of his skull without meaning. This wasn’t what he’d expected you to say. 

“Um, why-” he cleared his throat, “why not?”

He cringed at his own question. Maybe it wasn’t his business. Maybe you didn’t want to get into the details. But you were upset. And if there was any chance at all that you’d want to vent or use Bucky as a sounding board, he was going to listen. 

But there was nothing for him to listen to. For a long time, you didn’t answer. Because to you, the answer was stupid. To you, it sounded like bullshit. Like you’d wasted Cole’s time and love and money. Like you were some noncommittal, unsure child. You rolled your eyes at yourself- as you had every day since Cole’s proposal.

“I just don’t- I don’t love him,” you finally said. “I’m not in love with him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s great. He’s a really nice person…” And he was. He was kind. He was understanding. He was thoughtful. But he wasn’t the one- he wasn’t Bucky. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. And he’s given me- he’s given me everything. But, I just don’t love him like I-”

You stopped yourself. The words that danced on the tip of your tongue were too risky, too dangerous. You wrangled them before they had the chance to escape- before they had the chance to push Bucky away- and locked them behind bars. 

But they screamed inside your mind. ‘I don’t love him like I love you’ echoed again and again, reverberating every few seconds. Part of you feared Bucky might hear it.

“Um, I don’t love him like-” you rerouted, “Like I always imagined. You know? I don’t feel the way I thought I would.”

Bucky considered your words for a long time. Unlike you, he didn’t think it was bullshit. Or stupid. Or childish. He set his feelings for you aside, not allowing them to cloud his judgement, and thought about your predicament. 

“Well, you don’t have to, you know,” he finally said. “Marry him, I mean.”

You gave him a subtle nod. Maybe he was right. But a larger problem- a more important problem- loomed. And while you’d spent the past few months hemming and hawing about marrying Cole, there was another issue at hand that ate you alive every single day. 

“Why have you been avoiding me, Buck?” It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t accusatory. You just needed to know.

For the third time that night, Bucky found himself caught red-handed. “What?”

“Ever since I got engaged, you’ve been avoiding me.” 

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. And though Bucky knew it was truth, his first instinct was to refute. To deny. To deflect.

“No, I haven’t. I’m not avoiding you,” he said, putting on an air of offense. “I’ve been busy with work and-”

“Don’t give me that.” Your heartbreak dissolved into cold, hard facts. Facts that Bucky couldn’t refute. “I used to see you almost every day. No matter how busy either of us got, we still saw each other all the time. We made time for each other. But ever since Cole proposed, you don’t answer my texts anymore. You don’t respond to my voicemails. I mean, I’ve only seen you-” The realization was startling. You knew Bucky had been distant, but as you quickly flipped through your memories of the past few months, you confirmed just how detached he’d been. “I’ve seen you twice. Including tonight.”

Bucky’s silence bit through your flesh. 

Part of you didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know. But the question left your lips before you could stop it. “Buck, are you mad at me?” 

He shook his head. “No, why would I be?”

“Because Cole proposed, and I said yes.”

A look of bewilderment yanked Bucky’s features upward. Emotions flashed across his face at lightning speed. A scoff barked out of his throat.

“No. No, I’m not-” He was caught off guard. Struggling to cover his tracks. “I’m not mad. It’s not like that. I’m just-”

“What’s it like, then?” You stared at him, expectant. 

“Oh, come on…” It was all too much. He couldn’t be in such close proximity to you anymore. Couldn’t have you almost pressed against his side. 

He fled from his seat on the stairs and opted to stand in the grass. He paced for a beat or two, wearing down the fresh blades of greenery. And when he finally came to a stopping point, he couldn’t face you. Couldn’t look you in the eye. He just needed a moment. Needed some space. Needed to breathe air that didn’t wear your perfume. And when he cleared his mind- and his lungs- he turned to you.

“You know…” he let out a huff. “You know that things haven’t always been exactly platonic between us. You know that I’ve had- that I’m-” His metal fingers ran through his hair, “Anyway, I’m just… I’m trying to deal with this whole thing. I guess I’m not doing a good job.”

It wasn’t news to you. But it still struck you like lightning. 

Things between you and Bucky always teetered on the edge of romance. Always walked a tightrope between friendship and love. And while you adored a good “will they, won’t they” type of relationship on tv, it didn’t have the same charm in real life. The Nick and Jess, Sam and Diane, Janine and Gregory dynamic brought you only pain. Confusion. Heartache. Unfortunately for you, there wasn’t a room full of talented writers scripting your every interaction with Bucky. The two of you didn’t have a well thought out, perfectly planned arc that placed you in a relationship by the end of your third season as friends. No, the two of you were left to your own devices, navigating the difficult terrain without help. 

Part of you always believed that you and Bucky would end up together. Maybe it was the Ben and Leslie of it all. Or maybe it was your hopeless romantic side. But you truly thought things would work out for the two of you. The ring on your finger, however, said otherwise.

A wave of remorse washed over you. You rested your elbows on your knees and dropped your chin into your hands. “We just never got the timing right…”

Bucky furrowed his brow, “What do you mean?”

“Our feelings for each other were always out of sync,” you lamented. “They ebbed and flowed over the years- just with opposite timing. When you had feelings for me, I was dating someone. When I had feelings for you, you were in love with another woman. It was just…” you cursed fate and destiny and everything in between. “It was bad fucking timing. 

A sharp edge rose in Bucky’s voice, “You think that’s what happened?”

You nodded, “Um… yeah. Yes.”

“You’re wrong.” He was steadfast. Resolute. He wanted to argue with you, wanted to prove you wrong. 

“What do you mean?”

“My feelings never ebbed- whether I was dating someone or not, those feelings never went away,” he said. There was a desperation in his voice. A longing you hadn’t heard before. “And they still haven’t. They’ve never gone away or even faded a little bit. I know you had fleeting feelings for me at one time or another, but mine weren’t temporary.”

It was bullshit- it had to be. Right? His “feelings” for you never seemed so concrete, so permanent. They weren’t even feelings; if anything they were more like passing flirtations. Momentary affections that dissolved every time a beautiful woman walked by.  

You let out a scoff, “Tell that to all of your girlfriends-”

“I only dated other people because I was losing my fucking mind.” His voice rose an octave or so  and he cut his eyes toward the house, watching for a sign that someone had heard him. “Every time you started seeing someone new, it was like I couldn’t breathe. So, I needed something- someone- to be a distraction. And I know that’s a dick move. But-”

You weren’t proud of it, but you were familiar with Bucky’s coping mechanism. With his tactics for surviving every new boyfriend of yours. “I did the same thing.”

“What?” He didn’t believe you- not even for a second. Your engagement ring wouldn’t allow him to. 

“Buck, I’ve had feelings for you since we became friends. It was pretty much immediate after meeting you. And they weren’t ‘fleeting’- or whatever you said.” The word actually offended you. “They’ve never ebbed.” 

You caught a glimpse of your engagement ring in your periphery and instantly dropped your hand into your lap, hiding the ring from your view- and Bucky’s. “I only dated other people because I didn’t think anything could actually happenbetween us.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. He instantly mourned the lost time, the years he could’ve spent with your lips on his. Of course, the friendship you shared was never a waste. And he’d never trade the years you spent as confidantes. But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how different things could’ve been. How much mutual pain could’ve been avoided.

He took a step away from you, too confused and upset to be in your orbit.  “And you never told me any of this?”

Your brow furrowed; your lips stretched into a thin, frustrated line. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?”

With fury smoldering in your chest, you rose from your seat on the porch steps. Anger glistened behind your eyes and hurt coated your words. “I told you! I bared my fucking soul to you!”

The puzzle pieces came together for Bucky. He let his head tip back a bit and covered his face with his hands. He let out a deep groan that only added to your rage. He didn’t have to ask- he already knew what you were referencing. But the part of him that wanted a fight egged you on. “Oh my god, are you talking about that night at the bar?”

“Of course I am!” you spat. “I told you everything- I confessed everything! I told you I loved you and that I wanted to be with you. I told you I was in love with you. And you just brushed it off!”

Bucky grimaced, “I know...” 

He wandered a bit farther, putting a few more paces between your body and his. He knew he was wrong. Knew he fucked up. Every time he thought about what you said at the bar, and the way he reacted, he grew nauseous.

“But I didn’t think it was real.” Another wave of desperation sent his voice booming through the yard, “I didn’t know you actually meant it! And I didn’t think I should hold you to something you said after six margaritas.”

He had a point. He had good reason not to believe a drunken confession. But you gave a fervent shake of your head; it wasn’t his actions that night that hurt you, it was everything that followed.

“But you didn’t even acknowledge it!” The words echoed down your street. You wondered if your neighbors had gathered around their windows, watching yours and Bucky’s drama unfold like a soap opera. “You could’ve asked me about it the next day or-”

The pain in your voice cut Bucky deep. His tone was softer now, his voice a little quieter. He knew he should’ve handled things differently. Knew you deserved better. “Well, you never brought it up either…”

“I tried to!” A rogue tear dripped down your cheek. You wiped it away in a hurry, hoping Bucky hadn’t seen it- though you knew he had. “But you told me ‘not to worry about it’ and then you walked away. And that was it.”

Bucky watched as a few more tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. He wanted to wipe them away with the sleeve of his shirt. To offer you a hug. But he couldn’t- he was certain you’d swat him away. Regret sat in his stomach, weighing him down like lead.

“Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? I told you how I felt, and you pretended like it never even happened,” your voice wavered ever so slightly. “And when I tried to talk to you about it, you waved me off. I was so humiliated- I didn’t want to say anything else.”

The weeks that followed your drunken- but true- confession were some of the most miserable times of your life. Bucky simply carried on like normal, inviting you over for movies and pizza and wine. And you didn’t have it in you to pull away. To put some distance between the two of you. To take the time you needed to lick your wounds. And if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want to stray from his side. Didn’t want to retreat. Because being around him was better than being without him, even if the rejection left you broken and bruised.

 “After that,” you shrugged, “I thought you didn’t want anything more than friendship with me.”

“But I-” Bucky shook his head; you were wrong- you were so wrong. He’d always wanted more, always wanted you. “I’ve always loved you…” 

“How was I supposed to know that? I mean, your string of girlfriends says otherwise.” You thought back on the litany- on the catalogue- of beautiful women Bucky paraded around. “And I know I dated other people, too. But you had so many. And you were so- you gushed about those women. You flaunted them. You talked about them nonstop.”

Bucky knew it was true. He brought his girlfriends to every event, every team dinner, every casual hang. The one time, the one place he deemed too sacred for the presence of his rotating cast of lovers, however,  was the one-on-one time you shared. He never dreamed of allowing them to tag along when it was just supposed to be the two of you- that was one line he’d never cross. He did spend a significant amount of time talking about them, though. He went on and on about his many, many forays into the dating world. And truth be told, you had trouble keeping track of all the names. 

Because, while you’d had a few boyfriends here and there, Bucky dated enough women to field a soccer team. Or two.

But you weren’t mad at him for it. You didn’t hate him for seeking companionship. You just couldn’t believe that he had real, legitimate feelings for you while simultaneously telling you that he planned to propose to Isabella. Or Nadia. Or Violet. 

“Honestly, you made it seem like you wanted to marry every one of them,” you told him. “The way you talked about them- it was like you were so in love. So, I didn’t think…” The whole situation was too messy. Too confusing. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to have real feelings for me. I thought you were a flirt. And a ladies’ man. And I thought you only showed me affection when you were bored between lovers.”

Bucky thought back on all the girlfriends. All the hook ups. All the times he left a one-night stand and ended up at your apartment after. He hated it- but you were right. He may have flirted with you; he may have showed you fleeting affection. And maybe he made a joke or two about growing old with you- but he never made a declarative statement. He never confessed his true and undying love for you. Never made the effort to take your friendship to the next level.

Only you’d been brave enough to do that. And he’d paid you dust.

“And I mean, you made it very clear that you didn’t want to talk about my feelings for you,” you said. A flood of familiar embarrassment rose around your ankles. You found yourself struggling to wade through it, just as you had after Bucky brushed you off. “So, I just… I found Cole. And I stayed with him- I stayed long enough that he asked me to marry him. And I knew you didn’t want me, so… I said yes.”

Bucky couldn’t imagine a reality in which he didn’t want you. “I’m so-” he slid a hand over his mouth. He let his head drop a bit. 

The weight of your words- of the truth- almost forced him to his knees. He’d only ever known longing, wanting, yearning- for you. And he always told himself you didn’t see him that way. But knowing now that you’d felt the same, that your confession was real and true, didn’t assuage the hurt. He couldn’t believe that he brushed you off. That he didn’t take the time and summon the courage to ask you about what you said at the bar. 

But he’d been too scared. Too scared he’d ruin your friendship. Too scared he’d make you uncomfortable. Too scared that your drunk words were just that- drunk words with no meaning.

As your point of view stood next to his, the puzzle pieces aligned. And the two of you finally got a look at the full picture. It was a picture of mutual love, mutual longing, mutual heartache. A picture of two best friends who couldn’t find it in them to have a serious- sober- conversation about their feelings for fear of ruining a good thing.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said. “I didn’t know you were serious at the bar. I didn’t mean to hurt you- I never want to hurt you.” He swiped his sleeve across his face, mopping up a stray tear that threatened to run down his cheek. “And I really didn’t mean to push you into the arms of another man. I just... I didn’t know you meant it.”

A tired sigh deflated your chest, “I meant it.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. Or how to handle the situation. He hated that things got so muddled. Hated that you felt so hurt. Hated that he hadn’t just been honest. The two of you were so close, so comfortable together, he never thought things could get this messed up. This disastrous. But he supposed it was par for the course. After the way his life had played out, why would he think that something as important as falling in love would be easy?

“So, it seems like we’re…” Bucky frowned, “terrible at this.”

“Yeah,” a dark laugh escaped your chest. “I guess we’re both stupid.”

Bucky nodded. If there’d been one- just one- honest conversation between the two of you, none of this would’ve happened. There’d be no Cole. No hurt feelings. No argument in the yard. All this time, you could’ve been sleeping next to Bucky each night. You could’ve shared a home with him. Kissed him good morning each time the sun rose. And the engagement ring- albeit a smaller one- resting on your finger would’ve been from Bucky. 

But it was too late now, wasn’t it? There was too much pain, too much hurt. And you were very much so engaged. Hell, you and Bucky were standing in the front yard of the house you shared with your soon-to-be husband. But Bucky had to ask, didn’t he? He had to dig deeper, to find the truth. 

And after he’d failed to acknowledge your truth last time, he wasn’t going to do it again. 

Knots twisted around in his stomach. His lungs failed to expand all the way. But he needed to know. “Do you still-

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t leave even a sliver of room for doubt. “I still love you.”

Bucky said nothing. He simply drank in the words. Replayed them in his mind. Relished in the sound of your voice- sober and steady- saying that you loved him. It was all he’d ever wanted.

But his silence pushed you to the precipice.

“So, um,” your hands shook. “What about you? Are you-”

Bucky almost laughed. “Oh, come on. Of course, I do- of course, I love you. What kind of question is that?” He shot you a wink.

There it was- his truth laid out before you. And to think, you’d dreaded this night for weeks. Dreaded celebrating your engagement to Cole. Dreaded answering questions about your impending wedding. And now, the love you’d hoped for, the love you’d always wanted, laid perfectly spelled out for you in the grass. Somehow, the party celebrating your engagement to another man provided the perfect venue for Bucky to bare his soul.

And while the two of you relished in the others’ words of love, uncertainty still filled the air. Bucky stood firm on his side of the lawn, and you yours. This wasn’t a perfectly scripted episode of sitcom, there weren’t people telling you what to say. What to do next. Your shared predicament was messy and awkward. And though you didn’t have a director telling you how to act, you knew your neighbors were entertained.

“So, what do we…” Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets. “What do we do now? You’re supposed to marry someone else. Your house is full of people celebrating your engagement. And-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. 

You pursued him across the lawn, stalking toward him until your lips crushed his. Instantly, his hands found your waist and pulled you tighter. Your hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, and buried themselves in his hair. The chill in the air fell away. The noise of the party evaporated. Nothing existed outside of this moment, this kiss. Bucky snaked his arms around your back, encircling you completely. He wasn’t going to let you slip away. Not again.

But an errant sound from inside the house made a grab for his attention. And suddenly, the stark reality of the situation hit him like a train. 

He pulled away ever so slightly, only allowing a few millimeters between his lips and yours. His gaze landed on the packed house, “Someone might see us-”

“I don’t care.” You gave his hair a gentle tug and closed the gap between you. Now that you’d finally tasted his lips, you didn’t want to spend a moment without them. Ever.

And while Bucky wanted only this- only you- for the rest of his life, his anxiety needled at him as it always did. He did his best to swat his worries away and devote his focus to you and only you, but he couldn’t fight it. He had to tell you, had to clarify.

Again, he pulled away. 

“But you know I can’t- I can’t give you the things he can give you. You know that right?” He searched your face for any hint of realization. Any flicker of regret. “I mean, the big diamond ring, and the fancy wedding, and the house. I don’t want you to be disappointed, I don’t want you to-”

And again, you cut him off. Your mouth melted against his, hell bent on consuming him right then and there.

“Buck, I don’t want any of that,” you finally said when you came up for air. “I want you. That’s it.”

And there it was- Bucky’s confirmation that you wanted him for him. That you didn’t care about his small, shabby apartment. Or his lack of funds. That you loved him for who he was, not what he could gift you. 

“And honestly, all the fancy stuff isn’t really my vibe,” you shrugged. “I mean, I’m not really the type to play tennis at the country club. And I don’t use ‘summer’ as a verb.”

Bucky’s laughed boomed through the yard. It cut through the noise and chatter of the party and made you feel more at home than you ever did in this godforsaken house.

“So, do you want to make a run for it?” Bucky asked between long, deep kisses. “If we go now, I don’t think they’ll catch us.”

It was enticing. The thought of absconding with Bucky set you alight from the inside out. All you could think about was spending the night in his bed, wearing his clothes as pajamas, and then ditching them entirely for a night of passionate debauchery.

But there would be plenty of time for the two of you to make your escape- after you carried out the plan forming on the outskirts of your mind.

“I say, we run- but not quite yet,” you told him. “I think you give me a few minutes inside so I can snag a couple bottles of champagne and some of that fancy whiskey Cole’s dad brought by. And then we jump in the getaway car and run like hell. How does that sound?”

How could Bucky possibly say no to that? He watched with bated breath as you snuck back into the house and hoped to god that no one noticed your return.

And his prayers were answered. Everyone was so drunk, so distracted by the music and the lights, that they didn’t even glance in your direction. 

A quick trip to your room allowed you the opportunity to rid yourself of Cole’s ring. Sure, it was beautiful. And sure, Cole was a nice guy. But you didn’t want it, didn’t want to be shackled to him for the rest of your life. You slid the ring from your finger and instantly felt the weight of the world fall from your shoulders. It was the most instantaneous relief you’d ever felt- aside from kissing Bucky for the first time. You tucked the ring safely into the drawer of your nightstand and told yourself you’d return it to Cole tomorrow. 

Tonight, you had more pressing matters to attend to. You snaked down the hall to the kitchen, undetected by the raucous partygoers. And without drawing any attention to yourself, you snaked two bottles of champagne out of their ice bath and tucked a nice vintage whiskey under your arm. If you and Bucky were going to celebrate, you were going to do it in style.

With the alcohol safely cradled in your arms, you made a mad dash for the front door. But just as you turned the handle, the sensation of someone watching you gave you pause. Slowly, you turned around, fearing that you’d find Cole’s confused, heartbroken gaze staring back at you. Instead, it was Nat who’d caught you in the act. 

She gave you a wicked smile and mouthed “I told you so” from across the room. And with a sweeping gesture, she urged you to “go, go, go!” She didn’t have to tell you twice. Quick as a flash, you escaped out the door and sprinted down the porch steps. 

Bucky paced up and down the front walk, waiting for your return. Part of him feared that you might not return from your trip inside. Maybe you’d change your mind about the whole thing. Maybe you’d decide to stay with Cole. But the way you tore down the front steps and launched yourself into his arms quieted his anxieties. 

He took your face in his hands and captured your lips with his. “You got the goods?”

Your laugh vibrated against Bucky’s lips, “I don’t know about you, but I think stolen champagne tastes better.”

"That's my girl."

Bucky snaked an arm around your back and ushered you across the yard, out the front gate, and across the street to his car. He stole the booze from your grasp and placed the bottles gently in the back seat. And once he ensured that the alcohol you worked so hard to pilfer would make it home safe, he turned his attention to you. 

His hands slid over your hips and traced up your spine, sending goosebumps over your skin. His mouth met yours in a kiss full of love and desperation. Longing and need. This was what you’d always wanted. What you’d begged the universe for. What you’d cried and agonized over. And now it was yours- Bucky was yours.

He pulled away only a fraction of an inch, “You ready to go, baby?”

“Get me outta here, Buck.”

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

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[angelltheninth]

His Soul to Wed

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, marriage proposal, kiss, soul contract, making a deal with Alastor

Word count: 0.5k

Ao3

A/N: Truly don't see him proposing in any other way.

While not particularly touchy Alastor did have his moments of romance and affection. Although tonight was highly suspicious, even for him. Never the most trustworthy sort, that boyfriend of yours, always scheming behind the scenes for something or other. You were no exception to those schemes.

"I know you're planning something, Al, I can tell by the way you're looking at me." His fingers tapped against the table at your accusation, the smooth song suddenly broken by an almost deafening snapping of strings. "Alastor? What are you planning?"

He could never look innocent, even when he was innocent he was still a suspect. This suited him, it meant that the Radio Demon always got front row seats to any and all drama in the Hotel. "Since you're onto me darling I suppose I could do this now. A shame however, as I had a whole song and speech ready for this."

With a snap of his fingers the mood in the room shifted. From a warm red and orange glow to an eerie green. His shadow demons retracted back below his feet as he set his microphone aside and walked over to your side of the table. His hand dragged and left scratches in the once smooth wooden table. Normal people would run to save their souls under these circumstances.

You weren't normal people, you were Alastor's girlfriend.

"Darling, we've spent the last 10 years together. In that time we've had... a long distance relationship because of circumstances outside of my control." Radio static pierced your ears for a moment, "Regardless both you and I have remained faithful to each other. I value your love and your loyalty."

Alastor kissed your hand and immediately went down on one knee, letting his intentions be known. "Al..." You barely choked back a sob.

"Will you be mine?" Alastor presented you with a red box, and a pretty obsidian and ruby ring. Despite his wide grin you could see by the way his ears and tail twitched, that he was nervous.

You also caught onto the wording of his question. Be his, not his wife, not his partner, be his.

No wonder the mood in the room felt so different from before. It wasn't the light, it wasn't the adrenaline that was making it hard for you to breathe, but the realization that what Alastor was asking for was not just for you to marry him and stay by his side, but your very soul to be his.

"I'll be yours." Alastor's grin got impossibly wider as he slid the ring on your ring finger, his magic wrapping around you both, cold and then warm and then cold again. It didn't happen but your brain registered a biting pain from the ring, as if it was biting down on your finger. Ever the perceptive one Alastor saw your frown.

"Thank you for trusting me with your soul, darling. I promise I'll take good care of it." He didn't mention taking care of you and as he pulled you in for a kiss all the cold left your body, you were safe with him, despite no longer owning your soul, you knew nothing could touch you.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Okay so hear me out. Angst. Pure hardcore I’m gonna crawl into a hole angst. DIVORCERRY. (I’m unwell I can’t help it)

I'm back! Feels weird tbh. Hehe, I had actually started writing this before going through my own. Feels timely that I post it now. It might not be as angsty as you requested, and/or as I intended, but I hope you enjoy... it's been so long since I've written that I have no idea of it's any good.

You never thought you'd be here. Then again, does anyone? Sitting in a cold conference room, with your lawyer beside you and the man you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with now avoiding eye contact, as he stares down at his rings from across the large wooden table. It's not something you ever considered happening when you said 'I do'.

But here you are, feeling every emotion and yet none at all, listening to a mediator list off all the 'assets' that you and Harry accumulated together over the years.

Item after item brings back memory after memory, and a part of you wants it to stop. What's the point? These are things you bought together, found together, did together. Now you are no longer together.

"Mrs. Sty-... sorry, I mean... Ms. YN."

“Hm?” Your eyes shoot up to the man at the head of the table, the one who is there to divvy up the material items from your relationship. The only one who seems to have a hint of compassion in his eyes.

“Is there anything you'd like to start with? Something in particular you'd like to have for yourself?”

What a loaded question. Is there something you want? Yes. How about the last few years back? Or how about a marriage that didn't fall apart in the first place? How about just the beautifully dimpled smile that would appear any time Harry looked your way, rather than the small, apathetic glances you occasionally receive when you have to be in the same room with each other?

You clear your throat, taking note of the fact that Harry still has yet to look at you.

"All I ask… is for my attorney fees to be covered.” You take a quick, deep inhale. “That's all. He can have everything else."

You immediately rise from the chair, oddly one of the most comfortable you've been in, especially considering the situation. Of course, this is the moment he looks up at you, with the most intense furrow of confusion plastered across his brow.

“YN.” Your lawyer whispers, causing you to look down to a face just as confused as the one sitting across from you.

“Just…” You shake your head, knowing that you'll only be encouraged to stay there longer, to continue with the torturous meeting, and dissect why something could mean so much to you. “Just send me the papers to sign.”

“Come on YN…” The sudden deep tone of that familiar British voice sends a shock through your system. With how little you've heard it lately, you'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. Almost. “There has to be something you want. I’m… I'm willing to negotiate.”

You drop your head and rest your palms against the wooden table in front of you. There's a lot that you want, but right the only thing you need is for this meeting to be over.

"Harry, I was never with you to get something from you, other than love.” The tightening in your chest begins, leaving you to feel as if words and air are both now difficult to find. “Now that's gone, so I don't really have anything to fight you for."

You stand back straighter, reaching into your purse and withdrawing the last thing you still had from him.

In your hand is a box, a small box, which you place on the table and glide across the wood, your heart almost questioning if you'll be able to let it go. You release it with a sigh and a full ache in your heart as you realize that this is it. This is the end.

Harry's gaze darts back and forth, never landing on your eyes or the object for more than a few seconds. There's a look on his face of potential disbelief. Maybe it's finally hitting him too, though neither of you should be surprised.

“It's my-”

“Wedding… ring...”

You aren't sure if either lawyer or the mediator heard the whispers of the short interaction, but the room suddenly becomes silent, the void paralleling what's left of your marriage.

What do you say now? What's an appropriate parting statement to give the man you never thought you would part from?

Then again, you've both said all that you needed to say. That's why you are there. So maybe it's best to leave it at that.

You allow yourself one last look at him, and your heart feels as if it's breaking all over again, seeing the same sentiment in his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes you wanted to look at forever.

Considering all the songs Harry's written about sweet fruit, you wish this moment didn't taste so sour.

Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @sunshinemoonsposts @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @carey86 @lomlhstyles @vrittivsanghavi @fdl305 @sunflowersloverr @lemoncrushh @groovychaosavenue @justlemmeadoreyou @copiastricycle @lillefroe

[bunnyhugs77]

Honey I'm Home

୨୧- Just a little slice of life of a hard working dad, his tired wife and their twin girls.

୨୧ WC: 900

Jungkook pushes open the door to your small two-bedroom flat, his keys jingling in the door which attracted the two little girls on the other side to come running instantly.

The soft patter of their socked feet hitting the wooden floors as they rushed to his as fast as they could. "Daddy!" The girls squealed. Jungkook crouched down, his once drained expression replaced with one full of delight.

"Girls!" He exclaims, taking the both of them in each of his arms, listening to their adorable laughter as he engulfed them into his tight embrace. "Daddy! Can't breathe!" Aria squeaks from where her head rested against his chest. Always the dramatic one of the two.

Jungkook laughs, apologizing and letting them go. Aria runs back to the kitchen where he could only assume the source of that flavourful scent was coming from. Meanwhile Hye-Ji stayed back to show him the flowers she'd picked just for him.

"Are these for me?" Bending at the waist to collect the crushed dandelions that were once in the grip of her fist. She nods with the brightest smile he's ever seen.

Picking her up as well, letting her rest on his side with one hand, careful not to ruffle the very elaborate princess dress she was wearing as he finally begins to make his way to the kitchen. "Thank you so much princess, I'll make sure to add this to my collection." He places a kiss to the crown of her head.

There you were. His eyes seemed to soften once they landed on you. In a button up and your favourite pair of mom jeans." Hi baby," He gets the chance to peck your lips briefly before Hye-Ji was asking to be put down.

She quickly ran off to her sister in the living room where there were colouring pages ripped out, building blocks all over the place, a box of crayons in the laundry bin full of clothes that were waiting to be folded.

"Hi." You manage a smile before resuming your blank stare into the pot of tomato sauce for the spaghetti that you'd been stirring for god knows how long. "Is everything okay?" Disregarding your mundane 'yeah' he know something is up.

"Honey, what's wrong? Talk to me." You sigh, dropping your shoulders, finally looking at him. He was in his typical work-wear for his day job as a private banker meanwhile he works part-time nights as a mail courier.

"Today was a bad day." Letting your head fall into your husband's firm chest in defeat. His hands raised to hold you in his arms the same way the have been for the last 5 years.

The shiny silver band of his wedding ring catching the light for a moment as he gently rubbed your back. "You wanna talk about it?"

You pout softly, "There's nothing to say, look at the state of the house. Hye-Ji turned the house upside down looking for her dress this morning. Then I took them to the grocery store and Aria got lost." Jungkook's eyebrows raise, but you weren't done.

"I finally got them to sleep for an hour while I did some laundry, and then I ended up falling asleep myself, waking up to crayons and toys everywhere, and Hye-Ji was crying because she missed you and then I started crying because I missed you too and-"

You couldn't believe this was making you tear up. The day was hectic and the fact you'd have to do it all over again tomorrow. Jungkook hushes you in a comforting manner, practically swaddling you in his arms. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here," you sniffle, stepping back.

"It's not your fault. You work two jobs. it's just hard sometimes." You admit and Jungkook gets an idea. "Go." He says and your brow arches, "I'll finish dinner, and take care of the girls. Go rest, or read that Jasper Wilde book you've been wanting to read. Please. Let me help, you deserve it." He pecks your forehead and you weren't going to fight him on it.

Leaving the kitchen and the responsibilities to him. Telling yourself that it would only be a thirty minute nap but it turned into 2 hours. By the time you walked back into the kitchen, it looked like you'd walked into a whole new house.

Everything was neat and tidy, the girls were sitting on the ground with a bowl of abandoned grapes shared between them as they watched Moana with an entranced gaze.

The laundry basket was gone, the floors were clean and the air smelled of soft fresh linens and cinnamon. Looking back to the kitchen where Jungkook quietly tidied up, humming softly to himself. You stood hidden from where you were admiring your little family.

You may not have had much but you had everything you needed right here. "You're amazing you know that?" Jungkook says as you approached him. "I should be saying that to you." You counter.

"No. I mean it, Y/n. Having two jobs is easy, but doing what you do everyday is a job for a saint. I appreciate everything you do for us, I love you so much." His lips pressing against your forehead while your heart felt so full of love. "I love you." You say.

"I have to potty!" Aria declares and the both of you look at each other.

"Not it."

"Not it."

[sglaser]

Unique Wedding Cake Toppers

Add a touch of elegance to your wedding with our bespoke Wedding Cake Toppers. At SG Laser, we offer a wide range of custom designs to match your wedding theme perfectly. From classic to contemporary, our wedding cake toppers are crafted to make your cake a focal point of your celebration. Explore our collection at www.sglaser.ie and find the perfect topper to make your special day even more memorable.

[lovelytsunoda]

the way you kiss me works each time // lance stroll

summary: sexual innuendos and a scrabble board make for a flirty and cosy afternoon

pairing: lance stroll x wife! reader

warnings: 18+, no smut but it’s very suggestive and very flirty (while being cosy at the same time!!)

notes: can be read as a part of the ‘welcome to wherever you are’ verse or as a stand-alone, returning to an idea I had in part two (spill the wine). there's something about this whole concept that just makes me weak in the knees.

the sun was low in the sky as it threatened to dip behind the clouds. the breeze was gentle, coming over the balcony of the villa where the newlyweds were staying, overlooking the ocean as they basked in each other's company.

a scrabble board was spread out on the table in front of them, the low hum of the tv from the sitting room playing an italian travel programme. they had spent the day on a walking tour of capri, before spending the afternoon in an authentic italian pasta making class, and were now relaxing their tired bodies with cold drinks and a game of scrabble.

"and i play 'clever' for eleven points." she hummed, laying the tiles down and connecting them to lance's previous word.

"nice one." lance grinned, taking a sip of his mocktail. "but i think my word is better."

the grin on his face was palpable, a giddy sort of excitement radiating off her husband as he shook the wooden tiles in his hand, rearranging the letters on the board, until, lo and behold, lance stroll had played the word 'penis' for seven points.

she giggled, hiding her face behind her hand. the smooth australian lilt to her voice was like a symphony to lance's ears. "you are such a dork."

the board was full of such words. lance had gotten the brilliant idea that cleverly played scrabble tiles could be considered a way to flirt, filling the board with words like 'penis' and 'boobies' as if he was a teenaged boy again.

all in all, y/n actually found it very endearing. it was the kind of thing that had her heart swelling with love, her limbs going all funny. the kind of thing that reminded her just how much she loved her husband, and just how loved she was by the people around her.

"it's your play, my love."

resting her chin on her closed fists, elbows against the patio table, she looked down at the wooden tiles in her possession, brain scrambling to make words with what was pre-existing on the board. next to the table, her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a picture from her wedding day, just two weeks ago.

"hang on, it's kirk. i should probably answer. you know how he worries."

having lost her dad when she was very young, it was her connection with kirk, one of her father's closest friends, that got her through some of the lowest points in her life. and naturally, like any good father figure, kirk worried about her more than he needed to.

while she typed back a response, she could hear lance rooting around in the velvet bag that held the remaining letters, before getting fed up and dumping them out in the lid for the box.

"babe, you can't handpick the letters you're switching." she laughed, looking up from her phone, the reflections of her text screen refracted in the lenses of her glasses.

lance put his finger to his lips, jokingly making a shushing sound. "go back to texting, i need a minute. just wait."

rolling her eyes, she sent kirk another message before turning her phone off and leaving it facedown on the patio table. "come on, lance. i'm winning and i've got a really good word to play."

"but i think i've got a string of better ones." lance smiled triumphantly, pleased with himself as he placed the cardboard box lid on top of the board.

inside, a dozen wooden tiles were arranged to spell out (with many abbreviations and mistakes) wil u have sex w me

"oh my god." she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as her body shook with good-natured laughter. "oh my god!"

"i wanted to spell it out on the board during the game, but alas, i am not that smart, or good at scrabble." lance mused, reaching across the table to clasp her free hand in his. "so...will you say yes?"

"of course i'm saying yes." she laughed, uncovering her mouth. "this is the cutest way you have ever tried to get me into bed with you."

lance wasted no time at all in crossing the table and scooping his wife into his arms, twirling her around as they both laughed, before crossing the balcony to venture back into the suite.

"wait! we can't leave our shit outside, what if it rains?" y/n whined, trying to put her feet back on the ground. "let me go back outside, i'll meet you in the bedroom."

"alright, alright." lance rolled his eyes, placing her back on the ground. "but don't take too long, if i get too comfortable i might fall into a pasta-induced coma!"

still laughing to herself, she crossed over to the balcony and haphazardly packed up the scrabble board and her cell phone, taking a large swig of her drink before clearing the table and moving everything inside, closing the double doors behind her.

true to his word, lance was waiting for her in the bedroom, shirtless underneath the cotton sheets, with a rose between his lips, body seductively draped over the bed.

"i love you." y/n laughed, reaching for the rose. "but i'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to put real life flowers in your mouth."

"there's tape over the bit i was biting." lance shrugged, allowing her to take the flower and place it on the bed side table. "i know how you get about these things."

"shut up." she laughed, playfully jabbing him in the shoulder. "i'm serious. i'm glad you're in my life. you make me really happy."

she didn't wait for a response, although she knew lance would return the sentiment tenfold while they were lying together in the half-light, and again when he brought her breakfast in bed in the morning. she pressed her lips to his, kissing him softly, yet deeply before she reached up to take her glasses off.

"ah," lance said, grasping her wrist. "glasses stay on. don't you know the sexy librarian look is back in style? they look beautiful on you."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @clemswrld @userlando @diorleclerc @thatsdemko @scuderiamh @cartierre @lorarri

[pixelglam]

wedding day essentials by Amelie

in celebration of my wedding today (07/28/23) I decided to put together a little list of my favorite custom content for my sims' weddings.💍

table setting | flower bouquet | candles

ring | cupcakes | gift box

wooden sign | wine glass | perfume

guest book | van cleef necklace | dinner bowl

cake | candle holder | macarons

credit @xplatinumxluxexsimsx @pierisim @soloriya @serenebluesims @pinkbox-anye @cmdesigns @plushpixelssims @myshunosun

[saturnsorbits]

Always a Groomsman

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warning: Angst (A Touch), Smut, Exhibitionism, Reader Smokes, Kaminari isn't a Hero Anymore, Brief Mention of Addiction etc. Word Counts: 5.4k.

Summary: A wedding, what a wonderful place to reunite with the one that fucked you and ran all those years ago.

The light is already dying by the time you finally manage to slip away from the reception and make a B-line to the back of the tent. Your feet are killing. The whiskey helps the pain, but even whiskey can't numb everything.

'Oi.' Bakugo catches your elbow, stopping you just short of freedom.

'Where are you going?'

'Need some air.'

Flicking up his eyebrows, he offers you a smirk that tells you he's not buying your bullshit. 'So it's got nothing to do with that then?' He hooks a thumb towards the dance floor and the drunken silhouette of Kaminari Denki He's curled himself around a bridesmaid, hand pinching the silk over her hip, lips hovering barely an inch above her neck as she threads her hand through his hair.

You chew your lip and lie. 'No.'

'C'mon... Just talk to him, you know you want to.' Bakugo's eyes widen suggestively.

'I think he's too pre-occupied to talk.' Something bubbles in your stomach as you watch Kaminari whisper in the woman's ear and you quietly shift your gaze so you don't see what happens next.

'You know he's only over there because he thinks you're mad at him, right?'

'I am mad at him.'

'It's been years.'

'He fucked me over, Kat...'

Bakugo's gaze hits the floor. It's not like he's forgotten what happened. 'I'm not taking his side but -.'

'No.' You raise your hands, palms flat in the air to stop him. You know what he's about to say. You've heard it all before. 'You've got guests to entertain and I am literally going to explode if I don't get some air in the next minute.'

Rolling his eyes, he plants a kiss on your cheek and uses his new proximity to whisper in your ear. 'He'd make a pretty groom, that's all I'm saying.'

'Oh, fuck off.' You manage to swat his shoulder only once before he's turned on his heel and returned to the mess of wedding guests that whoop and roar when he re-emerges into the fray.

The cold hits you as soon as you duck under the edge of the tent and step out onto the small deck. Instantly, you pull at your shoes and hiss as your feet are forced to straighten against the wooden floor. Before the throbbing in your soles has settled, you stagger off, limping towards the tall rail separating the deck from the field beyond.

It's a nice night, cold, but nice. In the sky, stars burn on a back-drop of navy, their blanket only broken by the soft, red blinking of the odd satellite or plane. The music from the tent floats out and lingers in the air, leaving you with enough space to actually think for a second.

You'd been overjoyed to watch Bakugo finally get hitched to Kirishima, but almost all of that excitement had died when you saw Kaminari. It had been almost ten years since the night he'd kissed you outside of UA, since you'd stumbled up the stairs to his dorm and let him be the first to touch you. He'd pretended as if it had never happened afterwards and you'd taken the hint.

A few months later, you'd moved south and he had stayed. He hadn't even shown up to your leaving party, despite both Sero and Kirishima telling you he'd be there.

But, all of that was in the past, or at least you'd thought it was until your eyes had grazed his as he stood beside the alter as Kirishima's best man and you'd felt a forgotten affection swell in your stomach. Sighing, you fiddle with your clutch bag and remove a half-full packet of cigarettes from within. You flip open the box, pluck one from inside and pop it in-between your lips before diving back into the clutch to search for a lighter. Rummaging for a second, you come up empty.

'Shit.'

'Need a light?'

The voice makes you shriek. You jump, stumble over your shoes and just about manage to catch yourself on the rail. Hand falling to your chest, you can feel the hammering of your heart through your skin.

'Am I that scary?' He snickers.

You squint, trying to make out his edges in the low light. Your eyebrows furrow, then lift as you focus on the man in front of you. He looks good, better than the last time you'd seen him: A scrawny shadow of himself pictured in a double page spread of a gossip magazine, something about heroism, drugs and a sex scandal printed in bright ink above it.

Flicking your eyes up to his, you're glad to see the spark has returned to his eyes. An old, but familiar shiver runs the length of your spine and suddenly, your stomach fills with motion. 'You... You look good.'

'Yeah?' He holds open his blazer, allowing you to get a full look as he slowly spins on the balls of his shoes and pinches at the skin of his stomach. 'Hero weekly says I'm chubby now.'

You're tempted to lie, to tell him that he's looked better, but you don't. 'No, you look good, healthy. It suits you.'

Something in Kaminari's chest stutters and he has to swallow the spit pooling in his mouth before he speaks again. 'Light?'

You pause. 'You don't mind?'

His face breaks into a smile, perfect and shining. 'Nah, don't even crave the things any more.' He misses out the bit about having enough nicotine patches on his chest and arms to stop a bull.

You concede. There's a comfort that comes back almost too easily, like the past finally catches up with you. It dampens the fire in your stomach, leaving you clutching at the anger that had grown inside of you since that night. You lean forward, letting him cup his hands around the end of your cigarette.

His hands shake when he tries to make a spark. It takes one, two, three times of his thumb coming down on the wheel before it finally catches a light and he can step back to a safer distance.

'It's still the same one, doesn't work as well now though.' He mumbles flicking the cap of the lighter. It's silver, with a chipped yellow lightning bolt painted on the front of it.

If you looked close enough, you're sure you'd be able to find the rough scratching of your entwined initials, engraved by his shaking hands at fifteen.

You breathe in, savour the burning of smoke as it infests your lungs and exhale. Turning, you rest against the rail and look back out over the field.

'So – you're -.'

'Sero said -.'

You both start up at the same time, the constriction of the silence around you forcing you both to attempt to fill it.

'You first -.'

'No, you – go on.' You encourage, arching an eyebrow.

Kaminari swallows. His heart thrums violently, threatening to deafen him, but he's just hoping that you can't see how bad his hands are shaking, how he can feel sweat beginning to bead his forehead. He's not an idiot. He knows how he left it, what you must think. As soon as Kirishima had asked him to be best man he’d felt his guts begin to twist and turn. The idea of seeing you again set his veins on fire. You cough and pull him back from the edge of his thoughts.

'I – uh...' He can't think. You're too close, too real and suddenly, his tongue seizes in his mouth.

Another beat of silence nestles its way into the conversation and you can't take it. You switch the conversation. 'Ei said you're going to work with Aizawa.'

He takes a deep breath and prepares himself to look at you, but it still doesn't stop the air being stolen from his lungs when he finally does. There's a flourish of nostalgia in his stomach and he swallows a grin. 'Yeah. He, uh, he sought me out. After all the – the, y'know, rehab and all that, he thought I'd be a good fit.'

'Yeah?' You raise your eyebrows. Kaminari's fall from grace had been far from undocumented. There had been barely a week that he hadn't appeared in some sort of magazine, his eyes dull and another questionable entourage in toe. Another one night stand, a model spotted having cocaine snorted off her tits; wherever there was chaos, Kaminari had followed.

'Yeah... We're, uhm, we're already working with a group of kids in UA. They got caught up in that villain attack down town. We do these workshops were we like pretend to be pro-hero's...'

Smiling, you raise your eyebrows. There's light in his voice, something you've missed and something you're keen to hold onto.

He snorts. 'No, I know, I know, but we pretend to be...' He shoots you a cheeky glance. '… Current... Pro-hero's doing interviews and talking about our experiences and stuff, y'know like it's miles away. Helps to sort it all out in your head, picture a future were it isn't all still hanging over you. There's this one kid, absolute firecracker... He stopped the whole fucking building collapsing before they could get everyone out, has a pretty nasty scar to thank for it too, but he does the most flawless impression of Bakugo it's almost scary.'

You bat at his arm instinctively and freeze as your hand wraps his bicep. For a second it's all too easy to forget you're not still teenagers clinging onto youth with both hands. 'That looks good on you too.'

'Huh?' He swallows before moving his hand to cover yours on his arm. His skin prickles when you don't pull away. It's hard to forget how it all ended. How he'd been too naïve to tell you how he felt, how he'd bit his tongue for months after he'd summoned the courage to finally kiss you and how he'd tried everything he could to run from the violent storm of emotions that had been released in his stomach that night.

It hadn't worked.

Avoiding you hadn't worked, neither had sleeping with other women or pretending it had never happened.

You lean into him, tightening your grip and the warmth of your skin reminds him that he's not the scared teenager he used to be.

'Helping kids, working with Aizawa...' You giggle, relaxing into his presence at last. 'It looks good on you. You light up when you talk about it... It's nice. Haven't seen you look like that since...' You chew your lip. 'Listen...' It's impossible to read him. His jaw is set, eyes facing forward as the cold begins to chap and redden his cheeks and you have to fight to push away the thought of how beautiful he still looks. 'I know you're only out here because Bakugo told you to be.' The accusation slips off your tongue too easily as the past rears it's head.

'I'm not – it's -.'

'You don't have to lie to me.' You offer him a broken smile, a truce of sorts.

'I really screwed up, didn't I?' He chuckles, letting smoke drift from his nose and mouth before turning to you.

'You did.'

There's a lapse in the conversation and he takes his chance. You're peering up at him, your eyes filled with the embers of something he hopes is affection and he dives in. 'Do you remember that night... Outside the school when... When, we -.' He feels stupid. The words lodge in his throat and refuse to move, forcing him to stop and haul in a breath. You'd think after all the talking therapy he'd be better at it by now.

He battles through, after all – he doesn't know when he'll get the chance to see you again.

If he doesn't do it now, he never will.

'When we slept together?' You sigh then tilt your head and finally give in, resting your head against his shoulder. Part of you wonders why he's brought it up, the other part isn't sure you care. Right now, you're just happy to bask in him. You've missed it: him. Even with the history between you. 'You don't have to apologise. I get it.'

'What do you mean?' Kaminari stammers.

'Well, It was a mistake, right?' It's a question disguised as a statement, but you don't give him time to answer before you're already trying to soften the blow yourself. 'We were young and people sleep together all the time, it's not a big deal. I just -.' You puff out your cheeks, finish your cigarette and drop it to the floor, letting Kaminari crush it with his dress shoe. 'I – I guess I just expected us to... It doesn't matter, you didn't want it and I respect that, just, it was just a hard pill to swallow, I think.

He takes another lungful of cold air, hoping the shock will calm him. It does, but only until he cranes his neck to look at you again. You're looking back up at him, your eyes wide and questioning, pupils blown out through darkness and alcohol. His gaze lingers on the soft pump of your lip and he's almost knocked over by the rush of memory that reminds him you used to taste like strawberries and smoke.

He wonders if you still do.

'It's not like that...'

You swallow. 'What was it like then?'

His voice is a whisper when he finally admits what he came out her to tell you. 'I was scared...' His thumb ghosts the back of your hand. 'I'm still scared.'

'Denki...'

'Yeah?' He's vaguely aware of the fact that he's unable to tear his eyes away from your face, but he's too caught up in the feel of you pressed to his side, where you belong, to care.

'Don't start saying things like that.'

'Why -.'

You lick at your back teeth, fighting annoyance. 'Not now. Especially not when there's a bridesmaid wondering where you've got to in there.' You hook a thumb back towards the tent.

'I'm not – we're not, we're not together or anything...' He's stumbling, making a mess as usual.

You roll your eyes. 'You don't have to lie.'

'I'm not lying.'

'I saw you all over her.'

'Dancing – we were -.'

Chewing at your lip, you sigh. 'It doesn't matter.'

'No.' He takes hold of your hand, squashes his own on top of yours and pins you as best as he can without forcing your fingers to entwine. 'It does.'

You swallow. 'Why now?'

'I – uh -.'

'Why not then?'

'I was scared.'

'You know...' You slip your hand from under his and fold your arms across your chest. 'It hurt when I realised that I was just another fuck for you, but it wasn't as bad as loosing a friend Denki – We were friends and you just fucking ghosted me. No explanation, no apology, you could have just fucking ignored it and I would have let things go back to normal, I would have just -.' You're crying, kind of. Tears well in your eyes, but you're refusing to let them fall. You've spent too many tears on him already and your make-up took almost an hour to do.

'I was a fucking idiot, I was scared and – and -.'

'I think I'm going to go...' You nod, swatting away his hand when he reaches for you. 'It was nice seeing you.' Turning, you're ready to make a short dash through the tent, ready to be as far away from the constricting air of the deck.

'No. Please. Please, don't go – not again, I just. Fuck.'

A hand wraps your wrist, pulling you back just enough that he can slip in front of you blocking your escape. 'Den - Kaminari.'

'Just let me, let me get this out. Okay.' He's pleading when he looks up at you, but he can't let you leave, not without at least trying. 'I was a fucking idiot. I was so scared that you'd hate me, that, that I'd be a bad boyfriend, or you'd move away and I wouldn't be enough, that I'd be too busy with work, or it'd be too much and I – I let that get the better of me. I was already falling apart, even back then and I didn't – I didn't want you to have to see it, to put up with it. You, fuck, you deserve so much and... That night...' He hauls in a breath. 'That night was one of the best nights of my life, not, not just the sex – just being with you and I – Well I did fuck it all up, didn't I... Look at the state of me - I couldn't, I couldn't have dragged you through all that.'

'Oi.' You fix him with a stare. 'Don't go blaming yourself, not for what you've been through - or how you've dealt with it. Never, okay... And for what it's worth, I would have gone to Hell and back if you'd asked.'

His jaw ticks, but when he turns to face you there's something almost thankful in the shine of his eyes. 'I'd never ask.'

You chuckle. 'I know. You wouldn't have had to. I've have done it anyway.'

He swallows.

You roll your lip between your teeth and bite down. 'So you liked me... Back then, I mean. When we – I wasn't just, just another girl that you...

'We both know I did.' He licks his lips. 'I was a fucking idiot, I -.' His eyes widen as he struggles to find a word to summarise the years that have elapsed between you and leaves him out on a limb.

'Do you still...'

He nods.

'And if, if it were to happen again, you'd want that?'

'More than anything.'

'And you wouldn't run away?'

'Only if I was chasing you.'

You smile, straighten and curl your body into his. 'Then...' You whisper. 'Kiss me.'

He does. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he lets his thumb rub at the softness behind your ear as your lips meet again for the first time in years.

Things go quickly from there...

It's overdue. A coming together that both of your bodies have longed for, for far too long. He kisses the same, with lips that are a touch too dry and a hunger no-one else has ever been able to match.

You have a mind to stop him, have a mind to stall his hands as they press to your chest and seek out the stiff peaks of your nipples, but you don't. Instead, you let yourself be overcome. Your hands find his belt. It's almost too easy to do, to unclasp the buckle and yank it clear of his suit pants. You cast it aside and are surprised when he doesn't seem to care where it lands.

He pushes you back, urging you further and further away from the wedding still raging inside and towards the scant privacy the deck can offer.

Although, it's more than obvious that neither of you care.

Each touch is electric. A build of emotion that had crystallised, now dissolving into your hands and dripping through your fingers. It's rough and needy, desperate, but more than that, it feels right.

'Here, quick.' You pull at the lapel of his suit jacket, yanking him impossibly closer.

He misreads the signs, twisting and turning as he attempts to wriggle from his jacket and slip it from his shoulders.

Tugging it back into place, you shake your head. 'No time, just...' You let your hand slide down his chest, feeling your way across the expanse of him before slipping your fingers into the waist of his suit pants. '… Come here.'

Kaminari moans as you make quick work of his pants, shoving them eagerly half way to his thigh. 'Don't need to tell me twice.' He chuckles, using what little air remains in his lungs to whine as your fingers graze over his hardening cock.

You tease for barely a second longer before taking hold of him and squeezing.

'Fuck.' His head rocks back on his shoulders, eyes rolling to the skies as he sinks into the feeling of having you again. 'I've missed you. Shit.'

You chuckle and lean in close, pressing your chest to his as you lick at the shell of his ear. 'Have you missed me or just my hand?'

Immediately, he pulls back. His hands wrap around your elbows as he holds you at arms length. He looks comical, with his pants clinging to the thin at the end of his thighs and his grey boxers almost dyed black, stained with pre-cum as his cock pulses in its confines, spilling more desperation onto the fabric. 'I really have missed you...'

Stooping to catch your eye, he raises his eyebrows and offers you a smile. 'You. Not the sex, not anything else. Yo -.'

You barely let him finish his sentence before you're breaking from his constriction and pressing back into him. 'I've missed you too...' Biting his lip, you ease the sting with a kiss. 'But, we really don't have a lot of time and I'm so fucking wet I -.'

He whines against your mouth. 'Can – Fuck, let me taste.'

'Maybe later.'

The idea of later makes his blood sing, but the sound of the party still raging inside quickly refocuses him on the task at hand. 'Think I can make you cum in five minutes?'

'Oh.' You squeak when his hand pinches at your ass. 'I fucking hope so.'

'Challenge accepted.' Grinning from ear to ear, Kaminari presses back until you bump against the wooden railing of the deck. His hands roam across your body, squeezing and nipping at everything he can reach. Reaching up, he takes hold of the strap before pausing. 'Can I?' Or will this rip?'

'It'll be fine... Just -' You push your chest out, helping as best you can as Kaminari pulls down the front of your dress to expose you to the air.

The cold air forces your nipples to pebble immediately, the lip of your dress forcing your breasts to sit high and pretty and in perfect reach of Kaminari's wondering hands.

He cups your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you squirm. If he had time, he'd savour this. He'd crane his neck, bow to your beauty and take one of those hardened rose buds into his mouth. He'd taste your skin, savour the salt and lick effortlessly over you until your cries became the background noise to his dreams. Licking his teeth, he looses himself to the feeling of you filling his hand. The fat of your tit spills through his fingers as he squeezes, earning another breathy gasp from you before turning his attention to other areas.

'Denki...' You're breathing heavy already, your chest heaving as Kaminari takes his pleasures feeling every inch of you. His hands sink, exploring. He pinches at your ribs, skates over your ribs and grips your hips before landing a firm smack against your ass. 'Denki, please... Fuck, c'mon, I need -.'

'Yeah?' His pupils have blown when he looks at you. Rings of gold struggle to keep them in check as hunger threatens to swallow them whole.

You nod, helping him yank up your dress until it's bunched up around your hips. Shivering against the cold, your knees knock together as a wave of vulnerability suddenly washes over you. You're freezing. The arousal trapped in your underwear cooling by the second, even as your cunt burns to be touched.

'Fuck...' Kaminari's hand sinks into your underwear the second it can. His fingers brush across trimmed pubic hair before petting, gently, at your clit.

You moan, bucking into his hand as he slips further and brushes his fingertips across your entrance. Bringing his hand back up, he presents his hand to you in the air. Your arousal shines on his skin, the glittering light from tent making it shimmer as he widens his fingers, leaving sticky strings to hang between index and forefinger.

He admires the shine. 'You're so fucking wet.'

Nodding, you reach for his wrist to pull it to your mouth – tasting yourself and cleaning his skin, but before you can, his tongue darts out of his mouth. He collects your slick like a delicacy and moans as your sweetness hits the back of his throat.

'Denki, I can't wait anymore... Please -.'

Kaminari wastes no time. In a moment, he has himself freed from his boxers, his cock hard and twitching against your stomach and your leg hooked lazily over his arm.

You tug aside your underwear yourself, exposing your cunt to him fully. There's no time to waste. Something primal eats away at your insides, something you're sure will only subside once he's seated inside of you. Your fingers itch, one hand playing with the strays hairs at the base of his neck as you look down and watch as he guides himself into you.

The initial push makes him hiss. You're tight. Tighter than he remembers as your walls wrap around him and clench. Locking his jaw, he hauls in a breath through his teeth and wills himself away from embarrassment.

Feeling him twitch helplessly inside of you, you grasp him by the lapel and pull him close until your nose touches his. 'Don't you dare. Not...' He gives you another inch, making you gasp and roll your hips. 'Not yet, don't fucking -.'

'Don't worry, baby. 'm not, not gonna.' Holding onto his sanity with his fingernails, Kaminari pulls back his hips and grinds back into you. The rhythm he sets up is uneven at best, but still, each thrust causes his cock to rub directly across the sponge roof of your cunt making you whine and cling.

Lips finding his neck, you litter him with lust. Your teeth find purchase, biting down to stifle the moans bubbling in your chest as he continues to fuck you, bottoming out each time in an effort to give you everything he has.

'You're gonna leave a mark.' He speaks through gasps, his pace stuttering as he continues to try and please you. The muscle in his thighs shake, his hands struggling not to clamp down on your waist as he pushes through the pulsing of his balls that threatens an early end.

You chuckle, revelling in the goose-flesh your breath leaves in its wake. It's intimate, setting a fire in your stomach as you pull back enough to catch his eye once more. You smile. 'What? Don't want your cheeky bridesmaid side piece to see?'

His pace falters. 'I don't.'

'Denki, baby... I'm joking.'

The pet name hatches butterflies in his sternum. They bump against the bone, tickling his organs and making him feel like he could float six feet from the floor. Not for the first time, he curses his own previous cowardice for stealing away all the pet names the past could have gifted him.

Bringing your foreheads together, you pant, breathing in each others air for a moment.

It's always felt like a cop out to call him 'The one that got away'. The title had never fit, no matter how much you'd wanted it to – or wished at one point and yet, right here, now, you wonder how you'd ever even brought yourself to think of him like that. 'Denki... Denks.' He hums, transfixed by a look he'd only been able to imagine in your eyes. 'What – what do you need. Tell me.'

You chew your lip, muttering. 'I'm never going to cum like this.'

'Ah.' His eyes light up, a shock of understanding zipping through him.

It might have been years, but he remembers every second of that night you spent together. He remembers you quaking, remembers how you'd looked on your hands and knees, thighs shaking as your spine curved deliciously, your ass bouncing as you rocked yourself back on his cock desperately. How could he forget?

Slipping out of you, he pulls back only enough to lay his hands on your waist and spin you.

You twist, dizzy and grab hold of the railing to steady yourself. Instantly, you're up on your tip-toes, back curved as you wait, pretty and presented. Anticipation lances through your legs making holding yourself up difficult, but it's all worth it when you feel him stretch you open and slide home.

Not giving you a second to adjust, he sets a blinding pace, spurred on by the memory of what it had felt like to have you fall apart around him. The fingers of his right hand dig into the flesh of your hip as the other slides up your back and takes hold of your neck. He grips, leaning over you to whisper, hoarse, in your ear. 'Touch yourself... Touch yourself for me, show me how good you feel, baby.'

You obey. Slipping a hand between your legs, you spread your fingers to feel him rutting into you for a moment. The skin of his cock is silk soft and slippery with your arousal, grazing the sides of your fingers as you shift and finally, begin to rub at your clit.

'Fuck...' Kaminari's grip on your hip stutters, growing light as he feels you tighten up around him. 'Go – Good girl. Shit. I'm not – not gonna last, I -.'

You don't need him too. In a few moments, you feel the telltale rush. Your cunt aches, clit pulsing as your orgasm threatens to reduce you to your knees. With your eyes rolling back into your head, you struggle to keep circling your clit, but Kaminari's fingers replace yours without you asking.

His movement is clumsy, but he manages to fuck you through your high either way. 'Holy, holy fuck... You feel, feels so – fucking Hell.' Stuttering, he struggles through, pouring his focus into you as you milk him relentlessly, bringing him closer and closer to his own end. With a tight chest, you reel back, glancing over your shoulder.

Kaminari's face is flushed, his cheek bones brushed with a pink that makes him look boyish and young. The edge of his mouth is twisted, a cause of his teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek and his jaw is clenched, bringing out the cut line of his jaw.

He's close. You can tell. The thought thrills you, your cunt tightening on impulse as you await your prize.

'Where, fuck, fuck... I can't cum on your dress, you're – you're gonna have to move, or, or -.'

Reaching back, you grab at the edge of his suit jacket and pull at him, forcing his hips against your ass. 'Inside.'

He doesn't get a chance to think, his body makes the decision for him. His balls tighten, pulsing as he cums, emptying himself inside of you. Curling over, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, teeth scraping against the exposed skin as he pours himself into you, pumping you full.

With your stomach full and his lips grazing the base of your neck, you relax into a bone-deep kind of satiation you'd not felt since that night. It's surreal. Absurd as you come crashing back to reality as realise that the party has begun to quieten inside of the tent.

He's still dripping out of you when you hear the high pitched whistle cut through the air.

Kamiari turns. Tearing his suit jacket from his shoulders, he drapes it over your hips, covering his own mess.

'You two made up then?' Sero's smile is blinding. His hands are dug into his pockets, thumbs poking out over the material as he shrugs himself into his shoulders. He's plastered, his hair mattered and a mess as it falls from its bun, but even the alcohol making him stagger doesn't put a stop to his mischief.

Kaminari panics. His voice is still breathless, shaking slightly from the force of the orgasm that had almost had him seeing static. He should have made you cum quicker, shouldn't have slowed down the way he did. Fuck, he should have asked you to come back to his hotel. You deserve better than a quick, forgive me fuck outside of a tent in almost freezing temperature. He curses himself and cringes. 'How long have you been stood there?'

'Long enough to be pitching a tent, you guys don't fuck around huh...' He chuckles to himself. 'Well, I guess you do but -.'

Struggling with your dress, you can't help the smile that breaks your lips when Kaminari shields you and helps get your tits situated and hidden once more. Stepping from behind him, you slide a hand down his arm and twist your fingers in his. Hoping this time he won't run away. 'What do you want Hanta? We're just about to get out of here.'

Even if you had been trying to miss the smile that brightens Kaminari's face, you wouldn't have been able to. He re-adjusts his jacket, now slung over your shoulders and squeezes your hand tight.

Sero chuffs. Still too drunk to know better. 'When I first came out here I just wanted to smoke, but now I'm thinking of asking to watch.'

Reaching down, you pluck one of your heels from the floor before turning and throwing it headlong at Sero's head.

He ducks, laughing as the shoe goes wide. 'That a maybe then?'

'Hanta...' Kaminari whines, but Sero is already backing away holding his hands up in a mock surrender.

'Woah, woah...' A cheeky smile tugs at his lip, bringing his left dimple out in a way that only happens when there's real mischief up his sleeve. 'I guess now would be a bad time to tell you that the lights out here cause a pretty solid shadow to be cast on the side of that tent then, huh?'

The colour drains from both of your faces. 'No...'

Sero's eyes shine as he reaches into his pocket and removes his phone. 'I've got a video of it if you don't believe me...'

-> Masterlist

[loudstan]

(67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was (Epilogue)

Summary: Chenle wasn't interested in committed relationships until he met the one. The problem is that now she is the one who doesn't want to commit to him.

Pairing: Werewolf! Chenle x Siren! Female reader

Warnings: Toxic behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamic, smut, angst, daddy Chenle supremacy, breeding kink, overstimulation...probably other stuff too, I don't remember.

AN: This is to give our toxic couple a happier ending. But you know me, I needed some angst. Things work out this time though, so I hope you guys enjoy it!

__________________________________________

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Chenle reprimanded you as soon as you both entered the penthouse. He took his shoes off and loosened his tie, glaring at you indignantly. “What were you even thinking?!”

“You told me to try to enjoy myself,” you replied nonchalantly, taking off your high heels and walking past him.

He grabbed your arm and you sighed. It meant he wasn’t done talking.

“Is that how you enjoy yourself? Getting wasted and flirting with my pack brother who, I cannot stress this enough, was the groom?!”

“I was sober,” you corrected him.

“Would it kill you to behave for once?” he groaned. “The entire pack was there–fuck, this is so humiliating–”

“Then stop trying to make me attend events and fit in your life, Chenle–”

“You are part of my life!” he exclaimed. “We’ve been mated for 3 months, Y/N. Get over it!”

“Because of a connection that you forced,” you spat angrily, pulling away from him and making your way to the bedroom.

“Oh, there you go again,” Chenle groaned, following you. “I tried to do things right with you, but you’re the one who started this fucked up dynamic we have!” 

“Blame me all you want,” you said calmly, sitting in front of the dressing table and taking your earrings off. “It doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t choose to be stuck here with you.”

Chenle’s furious eyes met yours in the mirror. He then glared at the handmade seashell necklace that adorned your neck. “What happened to the necklace I gave you?”

You pointed at the closet vaguely and he opened it to find a paper bag full of little boxes with all the jewelry he kept giving you. 

“I like this one better,” you said, taking the necklace off and placing it on the table gently. “It was a gift from my best friend, who I don’t get to travel with anymore because of you,” you commented passive-aggressively. 

“It covers my mark,” Chenle complained. 

“Perfect. That was the idea,” you said, turning around and staring at him challengingly. 

Sex with Chenle always started with a fight. At least that’s the way things have been since you two became official. You kept provoking each other until one of you would snap and pull the other into a kiss, which led to rough, angry sex. 

Today was no exception. The stunt you pulled at Doyoung’s wedding made him turn red with anger and jealousy. He didn’t want to ruin the event so he laughed it off in front of the others and gave your thigh a warning squeeze under the table. But once you were finally home he could release all that pent-up frustration by pounding into you relentlessly.

Now your hands were tied behind your back with his belt and your chest was pressed on the wooden surface of the same dressing table you were sitting at earlier. You both were still fully dressed; you with your tiny dress pulled up so the fabric rested wrinkled on your back and your panties had been moved to the side to allow the pleasurable intrusion. He was still wearing his half-unbuttoned shirt and his pants and underwear pooled on the floor around his legs. There had been no time to get undressed. When you both were this angry you needed each other fast and rough.

“That’s right, princess,” he grunted when he felt you tightening around him. “I’m the one who gets to take you home and fuck you this good.”

You wished you could scoff at his arrogance but he was fucking you good. 

“Right t-there!” you moaned instead, trying to communicate that he was hitting the perfect spot to have you cumming in seconds, but he already knew that. He knew your body very well. You were incredibly compatible in bed.

…If only you were compatible in other ways too.

“O-oh…,” your voice shook with pleasure. “Don’t stop, don’t stop–”

“Bossy, aren’t we?” he teased, but he complied. And with a few more thrusts he had you coming with a loud moan. 

“Who do you belong to?” he asked when you were coming down from your high, admiring the multiple hickeys and love bites he had left on your neck and shoulders. 

You lifted your head with difficulty and locked eyes with him in the mirror. “I…,” you croaked weakly, “I belong to no one.”

Chenle pulled you by your hair making you hiss. 

“What did you say?” 

“I’m not fucking yours,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

A subtle smirk formed on Chenle’s lips. He pulled out of you, despite not having had his release yet, and forced you to sit back down on the chair. 

“We’ll see about that,” he said, casually walking away.

“Aren’t you going to untie me?” you asked with a scoff, watching his movements in the mirror.

“Who said we were done?” he replied with another question, turning around to show you what he had gone to find in his nightstand drawer: a hitachi wand.

“Chenle,” you warned him, trying to give him an intimidating glare, but he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care, pulling a chair to sit right behind you, spreading his legs to fit you between them, and placing the vibrator dangerously close to your crotch. 

You locked eyes in the mirror.

“Anything you wanna say?” he asked with fake innocence. “Do you finally want to admit that you’re mine? Or do you maybe want to apologize for being a brat at the wedding?”

You defiantly clenched your jaw.

 He arched his eyebrow expectantly. 

You didn’t say a word.

So he turned on the toy and pressed it against your clothed cunt harshly. 

You gasped and quickly closed your thighs but you ended up trapping the vibrator between them and increasing the stimulation.

“Chenle!” you breathed out, squirming defenselessly with your arms still tied behind you while he held you against his chest with one of his arms around your waist. “You…Y-you asshole!”

“Who do you belong to?” he asked you again.

“No one!” you yelled.

“Wrong,” he countered, turning up the intensity. 

You don’t know how many times he made you cum like that. He kept going until your body was glistening with sweat, and your brain had turned into mush. Your spent body was leaning pliantly on his chest while he teasingly grazed the wand against your clothed clit.

He moved his hand from your waist to your chin, to make you look at his reflection in the mirror.

“Who do you belong to?” he whispered looking into your dazed eyes, but your eyes rolled back as another orgasm hit you before you could respond.

Chenle chuckled. “You look so cute like this,” he murmured. “So docile. Now all you have to do is say you belong to me and you’ll be my perfect little princess.”

You let out a soft whimper, but that wasn’t the answer he wanted. It was cruel how he placed the wet toy on your abused pussy again and started moving it in circles. A silent scream escaped you, followed by pathetic sobs.

“My poor Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your tear-stained cheek. “Let me help you. All you have to do is say ‘I’m yours’. C’mon, princess, say it.”

“I-I’m y–...haa,” you babbled incoherently.

“Almost there, Y/N, you’re doing so well,” he praised you without stopping his hand from tormenting you with the vibrator. “Say ‘I’m yours.’”

“I’m y-yours…,” you choked out.

“Louder,” he groaned, nibbling on your neck.

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, trembling because of a new orgasm approaching.

“Louder!”

“I’m yours, daddy–,” you cried, with a breathy, high-pitched moan, squirting all over the toy and his hand.

Chenle’s eyes widened and he dropped the hitachi wand in shock. Did you just call him daddy?!

He released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and he slowly untangled his arms from your body to make three discoveries:

He had come untouched. A generous amount of sticky white liquid decorated the back of your wrinkled dress.

You were about to pass out, so he quickly untied your wrists and picked you up to take you to the bed.

He had marked you. Again. As soon as he gently lay you down he saw a fresh wound on your neck, barely an inch away from the one he gave you months ago.

He quickly went to grab a wet towel to clean you up with one hand, while holding his phone with the other to call Jaemin.

“Hello?” Answered Jaemin’s sleepy voice.

“I bit my mate,” Chenle blurted out anxiously.

“…Yeah,” the older wolf’s voice replied after a moment of silence. “That’s what we do…”

“I mean—I bit her again. I gave her another mark,” Chenle explained.

“Congratulations,” Jaemin yawned. 

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Chenle asked nervously. Jaemin was a healer so he surely knew what to do in this case.

“Chenle, it’s fine. We only need to mark our mates once to bond them to us, but an extra bite or two is not unheard of.”

“…So it’s not dangerous?”

“It’s not,” Jaemin assured him. “Now, calm down and go to bed. It’s 3 AM.”

Chenle mumbled a ‘thank you’ and hung up the phone. 

He continued cleaning your body carefully. Then he changed your clothes into something more comfortable; one of the silky PJs that he had bought you and you refused to wear. Finally, he removed your makeup and applied some ointment on your sore wrists while you slept peacefully. 

Trying to not wake you up, he lay down on his side of the bed after taking a shower. He was about to fall asleep when he felt your body’s warmth closer to him and one of your arms hugged his waist.

“Y/N?” He whispered, but there was no reply. You were asleep. 

Chenle sighed and turned to his side to face you, gently accommodating you in his arms and caressing your hair. It wasn’t the first time that you got close to him in your sleep. 

He only wished you acted like this when you were awake too. 

A couple of days later you received an unexpected visit.

You were coming out of the shower when you heard the bell ring followed by distant voices. You assumed they were Chenle’s friends who you weren’t interested in meeting so you continued getting dressed and drying your hair nonchalantly until Chenle entered the room. 

“Can you come out when you’re ready?” He asked quietly.

“Why?” You asked back monotonously.

“Taeyong hyung and Doyoung hyung are here.”

Ah, yes. You remembered them; the one who’s about to be a dad and the one who just got married. 

“So?” 

“They said there’s something they need to discuss with both of us.”

You sighed. “Do they also want to tell me off because of what happened at the wedding? It was a harmless joke.”

“I don’t reckon they’re here to give you an award,” he deadpanned.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you shrugged, going back to applying lotion on your legs.

“Y/N,” he paused to take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, trying to avoid an argument in case his pack members heard. “Please,” he said through gritted teeth.

You sighed and muttered an annoyed ‘fine’, finishing your beauty routine while Chenle went to entertain the guests. You heard the sound of their animated talk and laughter, but it stopped abruptly when you came out of the room to join them.

Taeyong was the first to see you. His mouth opened in shock and his eyes widened. Right after, Doyoung looked your way and gasped. Finally, Chenle followed their eyes and understood what had caused such commotion: your tank top exposed all the recent marks Chenle had left on your body. From the purple and greenish bruises all over your neck and chest to your still reddened wrists. 

He quickly stood up and dragged you back to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?!” He whisper-shouted.

“You told me to join you,” you reminded him.

“When you’re ready.”

“I am ready,” You replied confusedly.

“I mean—,” he sighed defeatedly. “Can you cover up, please?”

“Cover up?” You scoffed.

“Unless you want to show off my marks.”

“As if,” you deadpanned.

“Then put on a proper shirt before you join us,” he said, leaving the bedroom to go back to his guests.

There was an awkward silence in the living room.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Chenle finally said.

“Looks like you mauled her,” Taeyong commented.

“She could easily convince the police you kidnapped her with those wrists,” Doyoung added.

“It was just…sex stuff,” Chenle quickly assured.

“Even the extra bite?” Doyoung asked skeptically. 

“Google says it happens sometimes,” Chenle defended himself with the knowledge he gathered from the internet. “Jaemin said so too.”

“If you’re feeling desperately possessive, yes,” Taeyong nodded slowly.

Before the younger could reply, you joined them again, this time wearing a t-shirt that covered you a little better. You sat down on the same sofa as your mate but in the opposite corner. 

“Hey,” Taeyong greeted you with a polite smile. “I don’t know if you remember us. I’m Taeyong and this is Doyoung. We’re Chenle’s pack brothers.”

“How’s it going, Y/N?” Doyoung asked, smiling too.

You thought about it for a second. Should you tell him you hated your life here and while Chenle googled if it was okay to bite his mate more than once you googled how to get rid of the mating bond? 

“All good,” you said instead.

“Is Chenle treating you well?” Taeyong asked this time.

“Of course I am,” Chenle scoffed.

“I’m asking her.”

You paused again. To be fair, he cared for you a lot. He was always making sure you ate and trying to remember the things you like to get them for you. The only problem was that your only form of communication was arguing or yelling at each other.

“Yeah, fine,” you shrugged.

Taeyong and Doyoung exchanged worried looks before Doyoung spoke up.

“Okay…don’t panic but this is an intervention.”

“A what?!” both you and Chenle shrieked.

“We know that the way your relationship started was…unusual,” Doyoung explained, choosing his words carefully. “But we were hoping you would be getting along by now.”

“And you’re not,” Taeyong declared. “It’s been months and you don’t seem to be able to stand each other.”

“Because we hate each other,” you agreed.

“No, we don’t,” Chenle contradicted you quickly. “We’re just going through a rough patch.”

“This entire relationship is a rough patch!” you rolled your eyes.

“Maybe if someone wasn’t so stubborn–”

“This is exactly what I mean,” Doyoung intervened. “Even if you imprinted on each other…maybe you two–...”

“Maybe you two shouldn’t be together,” Taeyong said with a sigh.

There was a dead silence in the room.

“That’s ridiculous,” Chenle murmured. “I imprinted on her.”

“I know,” Taeyong nodded with sad eyes. “But maybe you shouldn’t have.”

Chenle opened his mouth and closed it dumbly again. Taeyong, a hopeless romantic who firmly believed in imprinting and destiny, was telling him that you two were the exception. Your relationship was bad enough to make him question The Moon’s choice of mates.

“We’re already mated,” Chenle insisted. 

“There are ways to undo it.”

“Do you want me to suffer to death?” Chenle finally snapped. “You know damn well a wolf can’t survive for long if they part with their mate.”

“There are wolves who have never met their mate and they live a good life,” Taeyong informed him.

“But we already met!”

“That can also be undone.”

You, who had been quiet the entire time, finally spoke up. “...What do you mean?”

“It’s…uncommon,” Doyoung spoke cautiously. “Memory-erasing spells are against the law…But there are cases in which a partial memory block is allowed if taken to court–”

“What are you talking about?” Chenle growled, glaring at Doyoung like he had just insulted him.

“If you two forget you ever met, the bond will break easily and you two can go separate ways,” Doyoung explained.

“No,” Chenle shook his head stubbornly. “We’ll fix our problems ourselves.”

Taeyong sighed before turning to you and calling your name softly. “Y/N, what do you think?”

You stared at him blankly. You had been actively looking for ways to break the bond but losing all memories of Chenle was so…permanent. You looked at Doyoung, and then at Chenle, who was watching you intently.

“And then what?” you finally asked. “My crew left a while ago and I don’t know anyone here. What becomes of me once I forget the reason I’m here?”

“You could contact someone you trust—a friend or family member, and we can wait until they get here to take care of you before proceeding,” Taeyong said. “If you want to proceed, that is.”

You nodded absentmindedly, under Chenle’s incredulous eyes. 

“If this is something you both want to do, I’ll handle your case myself,” Doyoung assured you. “I know a few people that could speed this up a bit.”

“But,” Taeyong added, “you must understand that once it’s done there’s no way back.”

You nodded again. Chenle remained silent.

“Can I think about it?” you finally asked.

“Of course,” Taeyong said. “This is a very important decision, so please take as much time as you need.”

You thanked him. Chenle didn’t.

Even when they were finally gone, Chenle wouldn’t speak. It was only when you were lying in bed, your eyes closed as you tried to fall asleep that you heard his quiet voice from beside you.

“I can’t believe you’re considering it.”

You turned your head to the side and opened your eyes. He was staring at the ceiling.

“Is it really that surprising? All we do is fight,” you said.

When he didn’t reply for a whole minute you assumed the conversation was over and turned to lie on your side, staring at the wall.

“I don’t hate you,” you heard him murmur after a while.

“I don’t actually hate you either…,” you replied, not daring to look at him. “I just say stuff sometimes.”

“Sometimes I can be…mean, too.”

You smiled bitterly. “Quite the pair we are, huh?”

“Could be worse.”

“Have you seen worse?” you asked, turning around again to look at him. He was already staring you back.

“...No,” he admitted.

You snorted and he laughed softly too.

“We suck,” he said lightheartedly like the situation was so bad all he could do was laugh.

“But at least I’m quite good at sucking,” you teased him.

“Can you not give me a hard-on right now?” he groaned. “We were having a moment.”

“Not my fault you’re not as good at sucking as me,” you shrugged.

His eyes lit up and you could distinguish the hint of a smirk on his face despite the dim light in the room.

“Yeah?” he breathed out.

Sex with Chenle always started with a fight. This was probably the only exception. Both of you playfully pleasuring each other with no aggression driving your actions was just new. But you definitely didn’t hate having your mouth on his cock while he had you sitting on his face. 

You swirled your tongue around the tip, determined to make him come first. He gasped and his hips chased your mouth, but when he heard you giggle he quickly focused back on his task of getting you off first. He licked long stripes up and down your pussy and you moaned around him. Now was his turn to chuckle.

“Having fun?” you breathed out, pulling him out of your mouth momentarily.

He hummed, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue playfully.

You let out a choked moan. Cheeky bastard.

But you weren’t going to lose. You quickly took him back in your mouth and deep-throated him as far as you could, trying to ignore the uncomfortable stretch. He moaned loudly, but soon retaliated, grabbing onto your ass cheeks and pulling you down forcefully towards his face.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned, bobbing your head up and down. He was equally desperate, moving his head up and down, and then side to side to let his tongue stroke your cunt in all the right places. Soon you both lost control; you rode his face mindlessly, and he fucked into your mouth eagerly; both of you holding onto each other’s thighs and letting out lewd, wet, loud sounds until you saw white and were trembling with pleasure.

“F-fuck…,” he whispered when you both were lying side by side, trying to catch your breath.

“You didn’t have to go that hard,” you mumbled, still unable to stop your legs from twitching.

“You sucked the soul out of me,” he countered.

“I won by the way,” you said.

He quickly turned to look at you, frowning. “You did not. You came first.”

“Ha! You wish, pup. You came first.”

“You fucking liar!” 

…Sometimes, sex with Chenle also ended with a fight. And then your relationship would go back to being as unpleasant as usual.

Until it got worse.

“I talked to Yeosang,” you casually said one day, interrupting the awkward meal you were sharing.

“Who?” he asked, uninterested.

“Yeosang,” you repeated. “One of my crew members. My best friend.”

Chenle hummed. “The one who worked with you at the bar?”

“Yeah. He’ll be here in about three weeks.”

“He’s visiting?”

“Sort of,” you murmured. “Taeyong said it would be better for someone I trust to be near when we…you know…”

Chenle’s entire body tensed. He stared at you in surprise before his expression turned cold.

“We’re not doing that,” he said curtly. 

“Chenle–”

“I said no,” he declared going back to eating.

“I made up my mind,” you said.

“So did I.”

“I already told Taeyong.”

“Wha–” he choked on his own words, looking betrayed. “This is something that concerns both of us! You can’t– Damnit!”

“All we do is fight, hurt each other, and fuck, Chenle,” you sighed. 

“So you decided to forget it all?! Forget you ever met me?”

You blinked your tears away. You didn’t want to forget Chenle, but you also couldn’t continue in a relationship like this.

Chenle mistook your silence for an answer and decided to end the conversation by standing up abruptly and leaving the apartment. 

He came back at about 4 in the morning, trying not to make too much noise so he wouldn’t wake you up. 

He mumbled a dry sorry when you sat up in bed to watch him enter the room. 

“It’s fine,” you said tiredly. You hadn’t been able to sleep because you were worried something had happened to him. “Come to bed.”

He wasn’t in the mood to fight anymore, so he obeyed. He took a quick shower and put on something more comfortable before sliding into bed with you.

“I won’t stop you,” he croaked. His voice sounded like he had been crying.

“Hm?”

“I’ll sign the documents,” he explained. “Jisung told me not to do it…but I’m exhausted,” he sighed defeatedly. “Do whatever you think will make you happier.”

“We’ll both be happier,” you corrected him. “Thank you,” you added softly.

He didn’t reply so you closed your eyes, ready to finally fall asleep when he spoke up again.

“Jaemin’s gonna be a dad,” he blurted out.

“Jaemin? The healer?” 

“Yeah…his mate’s pregnant. Well, she’s also Jeno’s mate, so maybe Jeno’s gonna be a dad. Not sure how that works. I think they’re both the dad…” he trailed off.

“They can’t both be the dad,” you said, frowning.

“Not biologically,” he shrugged, agreeing with you. “But they don’t seem to care about that.”

“Weird, but good for them, I guess,” you conceded.

“Taeyong hyung’s pup will be born soon too,” he rambled, and you swore you heard his voice crack. “I never cared much for kids, but–,” he paused.

You silently stared at him, noticing how he quickly wiped a tear away with his hand.

“I didn’t even know I wanted to be a dad…but when I met you I thought– I d-don’t know, I thought that maybe–” he broke down and sobbed, not being able to hide his sorrow anymore.

“Oh, Lele,” you called him the nickname that you rarely used, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back tightly, crying into your chest loudly.

“W-why couldn’t we m-make it work?!” he lamented.

You kissed the top of his head, gently patting his back. “I’m sorry. You’ll have your own family one day, just–”

“Not with y-you?” he hiccuped. 

“Yeah,” you whispered sadly and your voice cracked too. “...I’m so sorry.”

You both cried yourselves to sleep holding onto each other like you were afraid one of you would be gone in the morning. Because it was going to happen soon anyway.

There were no more fights after that night. But the reason may be that you weren’t talking to each other much anymore. Now that a decision had been made, you were both feeling…empty. Just waiting for the separation day to come. 

It wasn’t until almost two weeks later that you fought again. 

Chenle entered the room to see you restlessly looking for something. His eyes followed you as you opened each drawer again and again until he finally dared ask what the problem was.

“My necklace,” you replied quickly.

“Which one?”

“My favorite one!”

“The one with seashells? You wore it yesterday,” he reminded you.

“I know, but now I can’t find it,” you said, opening the nightstand drawer.

“You already looked there–”

“It has to be somewhere!” you said, irritated, trying to think of places you hadn’t searched yet when a dark thought crossed your mind. “Chenle. Did you throw it away?”

Chenle, who had opened his nightstand drawer to help you look for the lost item halted. 

“...What?” he asked quietly.

“You said it covered your mark,” you accused him.

“You can’t be serious right now.”

“You hated how I always wore that one instead of the ones you gave me.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll throw your stuff away! What am I, a child?!” he asked, offended.

“Is this your way of getting revenge because I accepted Taeyong and Doyoung’s offer?” you insisted.

“Oh my god–I didn’t touch your ugly ass necklace!” he yelled exasperatedly. 

“THEN WHERE IS IT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! It’s not my fault you don’t take care of your stuff!”

You took a deep breath in. “Chenle,” you spoke more calmly. “If you have it, just please give it back. I won’t be mad–”

“I said I don’t have it!” he exclaimed. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”

“What else am I supposed to think of the person who forced me into a relationship with him?” you spat pettily.

His eyes widened but he looked down before you could catch the sadness in them. In silence, he dragged his feet to get out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.  

You huffed angrily and continued looking for your precious necklace until exhaustion took over you and it became obvious that it wasn’t in the room. The warm water of the shower helped calm you down, and as your thoughts became more coherent you regretted the way you had talked to Chenle. He may be an ass sometimes, but you knew it was unlikely that he would purposely do something that hurt you. So you decided to apologize to him as soon as he came back.

But he didn’t.

You lost count of how many times you practiced the apology in your head, but your mate didn’t show up for you to say them out loud.

It was way past midnight and it was raining heavily outside. You started to worry, so you called him, but the faint vibration coming from the living room guided you to his forgotten phone on the sofa.

Now you were straight out panicking. He was out there in this weather, probably not thinking clearly after your fight, and with no way to contact him. 

After a minute of hesitation, you grabbed a random hoodie and went to find him, but as soon as you opened the door you bumped face-to-face into him. His drenched clothes were sticking to his body and droplets of water slid down his face and neck. You noticed he was shivering slightly, but he took off his shoes and walked past you and into the bedroom without sparing you a glance before you could ask anything.

You only reacted when you heard the sound of the shower running. You walked into the bedroom too, nervously trying to remember the so-practiced apology to recite when he came out.

“Chenle I’m so–”

“The park,” he interrupted you curtly, again walking past you and sitting on the bed.

“What?” you mumbled, confused.

He pointed at your nightstand. “It was at the park.”

You looked at where he was pointed and saw your cherished necklace, completely wet but in perfect condition.

“Y-you…went to find my necklace?” you stuttered incredulously. 

He ignored your question, getting into bed and lying on his side, turning his back to you.

“In this weather?” you continued your interrogation, still getting no answer from him. “Chenle, that park is huge!”

Still no reply. 

You sighed, understanding that he was surely very hurt and needed some space. “Thanks…And sorry,” you whispered, getting into bed and accepting the silent treatment as a very deserved punishment as you tried to fall asleep.

But a couple of hours later you were woken up by a constant rowdy noise coming from Chenle’s side of the bed. As you slowly opened your eyes and got used to the darkness, you noticed that he was shivering. 

“Chenle?” you whispered, reaching for his shoulder and shaking him softly. “Chenle what’s wrong?”

He didn’t reply, nor did he stop trembling, so you sat up and turned the light on, taking a closer look at him. His face was flushed and covered in sweat, his body was also sweaty and trembling and you finally registered that the constant noise was his teeth chattering.

You muttered a curse under your breath and hurried to get a wet cloth, placing it on his forehead and pulling the covers off his body. He whined, annoyed at the sudden coldness hitting him but he remained pliant, letting you take care of him. Thankfully you had some leftover medicine from a nasty cold you had gotten during your first month together. Chenle had nagged at you back then but he made sure to nurse you back into health, and now it was your turn.

When the medicine kicked in and his temperature started going down, you were able to make him sit up so you could get him out of his wet pajamas and put on a pair of clean, dry boxers. He groaned and half-complained the entire time but he let you do as you wanted. 

He was kinda cute, with that faint blush on his cheeks and his lips forming a pout, while he mumbled incoherent words.

Not everything was incoherent though.

“I don’t want to forget…,” he whispered as you changed the wet cloth on his forehead. 

Your movements halted for a second before you continued nursing him until he drifted back into sleep. 

“I don’t want to forget you either,” you admitted. “I’ve questioned my decision many times in the last couple of weeks. I know we fight a lot but it’s not all bad…That night when you said you would sign the papers it felt like we were finally trying to understand each other and it got me thinking that if we opened up more often, maybe we could make it work…but then I ruined it again by accusing you of something you would never do. I’m so fucking sorry, Lele. I love you, I really do, but–” you paused when you noticed a faint smile forming on his lips.

“You’re not asleep,” you deadpanned. 

He chuckled and opened one eye to look at you. “Go on, keep talking.”

“Looks like you’re feeling better,” you rolled your eyes, about to stand up but his warm hand grasped your wrist.

“It’s the first time you've said it,” he said with a weak voice, but somehow sounding relieved. “That you love me.”

You blushed and looked away. “Yeah, well. Hard to find a good time to say it when we’re always yelling at each other.”

“I love you too,” he said, as his thumb caressed your wrist. “I love you so, so much.”

“That doesn’t mean you should spend hours in the rain looking for something I lost,” you reprimanded him, with a sigh. “You hate that necklace anyway.”

“But you like it,” he said like it was so simple.

 “Idiot,” you tried to sound like you were mad, but you didn’t look very intimidating with the tears that inevitably escaped your eyes. “You got sick because of me.”

“But now I got a sexy nurse taking care of me so I think I’m the real winner,” he joked, making you snort.

He sat up slowly, ignoring the cloth that fell off his forehead and his hands cupped your cheeks. “Sorry for worrying you,” he whispered.

“Sorry for blaming you,” you sniffled.

“Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Sorry for…the wedding thing. And all the other things I’ve done to embarrass you…”

“Sorry for forcing you to stay,” he finally said, looking into your eyes sincerely and with sorrow.

“Sorry for using you,” you sobbed, addressing your behavior before you became official.

His lower lip trembled and he pulled you into a hug. “Don’t forget me,” he begged. “Give us one more chance…”

You nodded, clinging to him and wetting his neck with your tears. “We can try.”

He slowly pulled away, holding you by your shoulders to look at your face. “Wait, really?” he asked hopefully.

You nodded again. 

Chenle was about to speak again when he noticed something he hadn’t seen before. His eyes went from your face to your body. “Is that my hoodie?” he asked.

Oh.

You had hastily put on whatever hoodie you found on top of your pajamas when you had tried to go out to find him, and then you had absentmindedly gone to bed without taking it off. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, blushing and trying to take it off.

“NO!”, he quickly said, grabbing your hands to stop you. “No, god–...keep it on…,” he murmured, wondering if he was dreaming. You had said you loved him, agreed to give the relationship another chance and you were wearing his clothes? This had to be the… “Best day of my fucking life.”

You blushed even more and tried to stutter an answer, but his lips were suddenly on yours, and, fuck it, nothing else mattered. His lips were hot and wet as he pressed them on yours for a slow but heated kiss that became nasty too fast. You were both so lost in the feeling that you didn’t have it in you to even feel embarrassed at the string of saliva that connected your mouth to his when he pulled away, looking dazed. 

In the blink of an eye, he was kissing your neck wantonly. That’s when you remembered that he was sick. 

“Lele, we can’t,” you tried to be firm but it came out as a moan. “You need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” he assured you, weakly trying to pull your body closer but whining when his strength failed him.

“Lele,” you insisted. “When you feel better, okay?”

He groaned. “This will make me feel better. Please, you can’t wear my hoodie and not expect me to get super hard.”

You looked down and gulped. He was indeed hard and leaking through the thin material of his boxers. 

He once again tried to bring you closer but he was weak and agitated, but he felt like he could cry because of how badly he needed you. “Please,” he repeated.

You pushed him back so he was lying on his back again and he whined pathetically at what he thought was a rejection, but that whine turned into a shaky moan when you straddled him and sat on his crotch. A shiver ran down his spine and his cock twitched under you. He looked at you with wide expectant eyes, which rolled back in bliss when you rocked back and forth slowly.

“F-fuuuuck,” he sobbed, placing his hands on your thighs. “I love you, I love you–Oh!”

You bit back a whimper. You had never seen Chenle this needy and it was doing things to you.

“I love you too,” you replied and he moaned. Like it was the nastiest dirty talk he had ever heard.

“Wanna…b-be inside you…,” he whispered, looking desperate. “Please.”

You kissed him on the lips sweetly before getting off him to take off his boxers and your clothes. He let out a distressed sound when you tried to take off the hoodie once again and you understood that he wanted to fuck you while you wore his clothes.

You slowly lowered your body and felt him entering you, stretching you delightfully. He trembled and groaned, lying down pliantly, and letting you be in charge. The fever was making his body incredibly responsive to your every touch, everything felt too hot, and the fact that he also felt incredibly happy was making his cock jerk excitedly.

“Stop,” he suddenly gasped and you froze, thinking that this had been a bad idea after all, but he quickly explained what the problem was. “I’m so close I–...I d-don’t know why I’m so sensitive, but I…,” he gulped. “If you d-don’t stop I’ll…uh…inside–”

You bounced on his cock unexpectedly, making him release a broken moan. 

“Then do it,” you said. “Cum inside.”

His mouth dropped open and his stomach spasmed. He quite literally forced himself not to come at your words.

He had only come inside of you months ago when he mated and marked you. You had gone to get the morning-after pill right after and you had had quite a big argument about how it would be a terrible idea to have a child in your toxic relationship. His wolf instinct wasn’t happy about it, but he had agreed not to cum inside of you again and he had kept his promise, always pulling out before you two made the mistake of making an innocent baby miserable.

“Y/N,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Are you sure?”

You resumed your pace, fucking yourself on his cock slow but sensually, and making him tremble with pleasure.

“I’m sure,” you purred.

“Y-you…Mmh–ah…,” he moaned weakly, watching you fuck yourself on his cock with lidded eyes. “Could get p-pregnant–”

“Fill me up, daddy, please,” you moaned.

Chenle saw white. His eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open in a silent scream as he shot a gush of his seed into you…and then another, as the endless pleasure made him shake from head to toe and sob.

If he was sensitive before, now he was in heaven. The implications of your words were very clear: you were staying with him.

He breathed agitatedly as he tried to come down from his high, which seemed to never end. Weirdly so, he felt like the room was getting hotter and hotter, and he was still very hard.

Oh. Oh right. It was that time already.

“Y/N,” he called your name, with his voice still trembling.

“Yeah?” you asked, caressing his chest and looking at him lovingly, satisfied despite not reaching your orgasm.

“Y/N, my rut,” he breathed out.

“Your–,” you gasped when you finally noticed that he was still hard–maybe even harder– inside of you. “Now?!”

You don’t know how he suddenly gained all his strength back, but you didn’t have time to question it when he suddenly had you on your back with him hovering over you.

“Now,” he confirmed, giving you a hard thrust that made you both moan.

He built up a steady pace immediately. He had your permission to breed you so he was going to do just that. As many times as possible.

The sight of you on your back, wearing his clothes and opening your legs so willingly for him to fill you up, looking at him with so much love was driving him crazy. It felt so different this time. It would be different.

“I love you,” he moaned urgently.

“I…uh, lo-ah, ah!” you tried to say between his sharp thrusts. “Love…y-you–ah, ah–Ah!”

“My p-pretty princess,” he murmured, mesmerized. He squeezed your clothed breasts, your waist, your soft thighs. “Want daddy to breed you?”

“Y-yeah,” you moaned, pulling the hoodie up a little, only enough to show him how deep he was hitting. “Daddy, here–”

A choked moan left his lips when he saw the outline of his cock appear and disappear in your belly. 

“Of course, princess. Daddy will fill you up right…” he murmured, pulling out until only the tip was inside and grabbing onto your hips before he rammed into you harder than ever before. “...here.”

You tossed and turned aimlessly under him when he started pounding mercilessly. He fucked you desperately but somehow you felt so adored under his loving eyes.

Feeling your climax approach, you used one of your hands to reach for your clit, but he was faster than you.

“No, no, no, princess,” he cooed gently pushing your hand away to do it himself. “That’s daddy’s toy, okay?” 

You nodded dumbly and whined when he stroked you fast from the get-go. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you ended up groping your chest clumsily, adding to the already unbearable pleasure. 

“Mmm,” he hummed in delight feeling a stronger release about to hit as he watched you being so fucked out because of him. “You love this,” he declared, amusedly. “You love me…”

You suddenly tensed and your back arched, hit by a mind-blowing orgasm that had you squirming helplessly. “Oooh….oh, fuck fuck fuck—daddy…daddy, I love y-you—”

He groaned at the way you tightened around his already sensitive cock. His movements became even more relentless as he fucked you further into madness. “Daddy loves you t-too, princess…,” he spoke hurriedly. “Loves you s-so much–gonna….gonna pump you full–Haa…so full o-of pups,” he continued reciting delirious promises as his knot started forming, catching inside of you. “Shit– Y/N…y-you’re my mate, y-yeah? You’re staying…Mmmh oh, oh yeeess… you’re staying with me, right?”

“I’m–,” you gulped, dazed, still pleasure drunk. “I’m stay…staying w-with you…”

Chenle’s chest filled with pride and adoration. He was going to be the best mate for you. You would be so happy together.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck and he bit you, again, before he could stop himself. But this mark was different. It felt real. 

Because you loved him back.

You whined at the pleasurable pain of his fangs piercing your skin, and his cock pumping you full of his cum at the same time. His body spasmed for each gush of cum that jerked out of him, but even the overwhelming pleasure didn’t stop him from whispering the sweetest promises.

Sex with Chenle usually started with a fight. But sometimes it could start–and end–with a love confession.

[aphroditelovesu]

Wedding Gifts

❝commission: a drabble that has a 'newly wed' theme. My specifications are that it begins with Y/n waking up after her wedding night and involved the wedding gifts Alexander gives her in some way. Basically, something that outlines how her relationship with him has been so far. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is really sweet honestly and I loved writing it! I hope you like it and if there are any mistakes, forgive me. :)

❝tw: none, pure fluff.

❝📜pairing: soft!yandere alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 945.

When you opened your eyes that morning, you felt more refreshed than ever. The bed was empty, indicating that Alexander had woken up earlier and gone about his duties. You didn't mind, though.

Yawning, you noticed that the camp seemed more active than ever. Outside your tent, one could hear the shouts and heated voices of soldiers and their generals. When you moved, you couldn't help the pained groan you let out after a sting of pain spread through your lower parts.

You had almost forgotten that this was the day after your wedding night. Almost.

Carefully, you removed the heavy blanket and placed your bare feet on the cold tent floor, feeling more rested than ever. There were days when you didn't sleep so well and, as much as you still had difficulty recognizing it, last night with Alexander had brought you more peace than your last few weeks.

You didn’t want to admit it but Alexander brought you comfort and a peace that you knew you desperately needed. Taking a deep breath, you slowly stood up, trying to ease the pain. The memory of last night brought a faint smile to your lips.

When you got up from the bed, you felt the cold of the packed earth floor of the tent and shivered slightly. You leaned on a small wooden table nearby and noticed something that hadn't been there the night before. On the table rested three carefully arranged gifts, each wrapped in fine fabric that reminded you of silk and adorned with a simple but elegant ribbon.

Curious, you walked over and started undoing the ties one by one. The first gift revealed a luxuriously soft wool cloak, red as blood, clearly made by the finest craftsmen. The vibrant color of the cloak contrasted with the austere environment of the camp, and when you touched it, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body.

The second gift was a small carved wooden box, and when you opened it, you found a jewel of rare beauty. A gold necklace with a star-shaped pendant, encrusted with small precious stones that sparkled in the morning light. You recognized the piece as a symbol of protection, common among nobles, and felt honored and protected when you placed it around your neck.

Finally, the third gift was a rolled up parchment. With anxious fingers, you undid the wax seal and read the message written in Alexander's firm handwriting:

"My beloved, may this cloak warm you in my absence, may this necklace remind you of my constant protection, and may these words bring you the certainty of my eternal love. Our union is the promise of a future of peace and happiness. With Love, Alexander."

You felt a rush of emotions as you read Alexander's words. You sat on the edge of the bed, holding the parchment close to your heart. Your mind revisited moments from the night before, and a feeling of gratitude and affection grew inside you. Alexander, even though he was away that morning, had thought of every detail to ensure you felt loved and protected.

He clearly cared more about you than he let on.

Wrapped in the cloak, with the necklace around your neck and the parchment tucked away with care, you felt ready to face the day. As you emerged from the tent, the frenetic activity of the camp seemed a little more distant, as if a bubble of peace had been created around you. With a smile on your lips, you began to look for Alexander, wanting to thank him for the gifts.

The environment around you was filled with frenetic activity — soldiers training, tents being set up and taken down, supplies being distributed.

As you walked through the camp, the feeling that maybe marrying Alexander wasn't such a bad thing began to take shape in your thoughts. Every step you took was accompanied by curious and respectful looks from the soldiers, and you realized that your status had changed significantly.

You really were a Queen now and although that title sounded strange to you, somehow it felt right.

The soldiers stopped what they were doing to bow their heads towards you, a sign of respect that was still new to you. It was a powerful feeling, you felt powerful.

Alexander's gifts were not only displays of affection, but also clear signs of your position and importance beside him. That luxurious cloak, the precious necklace, and even the words on the parchment showed that he cared deeply for you and wanted you to feel valued and safe. He cared about you. Maybe he even loved you.

Arriving at the King's tent, you found Alexander in the middle of an argument with his generals. He looked imposing, with his armor shining in the shadow and his steady voice giving precise orders. When his eyes met yours, a soft smile formed on his lips, and he motioned for them to wait while he approached you.

"I see you found my gifts." Alexander said softly, his voice low and full of tenderness, contrasting with the authoritative tone he used with his men, "I hope they pleased you."

You nodded, feeling the heat spread across your face, "Yes, Alexander. They're wonderful. Thank you."

He took your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss, "I'm glad you liked it. I wanted you to feel special and safe, even when I'm not around."

Alexander’s words filled you with a comfortable warmth and you smiled even wider at the realization of them.

Maybe... Just maybe, marrying him wasn't such a bad thing.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Baby Addams.

Pairing: MaleWednesday x reader.

Warning: Mention of kidnapping, Mention of forced marriage, pregnancy, Yandere Male Wednesday. Gomez and Morticia from 1991. (poor transition Spanish and Italian) If you speak any of these languages feel free to correct me nicely thank you.

Summary: You were Wednesday's wife, with a baby on the way. (sorry summary sucks)

A/n: This is inspired by the story Yandere male Wednesday , by @teresalace I asked her permission so yea. Check out the story.

Three years, since you met Wednesday, Three years, since he took you away from everything you knew, Three years since you were married into the Addams family, and finally Wednesday had got what he wanted like he always did. You were pregnant, carrying a new addition to your husband's family. Gomez and Morticia were overjoyed about the news.

It was a dim, gloomy morning, and the massive black blanket lay on your growing stomach "Mi alma, wake up." a monotone voice whispered in your ear as you slowly opened your eyes, his plump lips kissed your shoulder, tracing down your arm to your wedding ring, sweet nothing whisper in Italian in Wednesday's normal deadpan voice before he sighed "My parents are coming." As he getting out of the king bed.

You sighed and sat up as best as you can with a six-month baby bump, the room was dark in aesthetic and semi-normal, with hints of white and a little red amongst the black. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the large custom guillotine that hung above the bed, which luckily was unable to move, You had to convince and seduce Wednesday for that to happen.

Getting up from bed was somewhat difficult, but you managed to waddle to your shared walking closet, black and bright, warm colors were separated down the middle of the metal bar. You quickly showered and threw on a blue maternity dress, earrings to match, and a necklace. The walk downstairs was a little hard even when Wednesday helped, your home was gothic victorian style like your in-laws but less big. Swords, old timely guns, and torture devices littered the walls as while as mirrors, the rugs were dead animals. The furniture was you guessed black and white with red, and some armor and statues stood around the living room.

You both headed to the kitchen; It was a modern kitchen that your husband allowed you to decorate, the only rule? It had to be in his aesthetic which you took. Wednesday leads you to the kitchen island and helped you onto the dark wooden counter stool "Good morning Wednesday" you smiled at him tiredly ready to break the silence "Yes, it is quite a bad morning today." he hummed and sat a glass of water down in front of you and began to make you breakfast. Despite being tricked into this marriage, he was a good husband, dare you say the best; yes, he's..well, him, he never made you feel unloved and was surprisingly romantic. The apple didn't fall that far from the tree, though he wasn't over-expressive with his displays of affection. A loud shriek rang out, making you jump. "I hate that doorbell," you whispered as you took a bit of your breakfast that he put down. "I will get it, Mi Alma" he walked out of the kitchen to the front door, Wednesday inhaled, and opened the door. His dad held a brown box, and his mother smiled at him. "Our boy." She cooed, opening her arms in a grand gesture "Mother, Father. It is a displeasure to see you." Wednesday acknowledged looking boredly between his parents, then sharply turned and walked back to the kitchen; Gomez and Morticia headed to the living room, the door eerily closing behind them.

You swallowed the last bit of food when Wednesday walked in "Come." he offered his arm, you locked your arm his and hopped off the stool.

"There's the woman who stole our son's black, dead heart and hunts his every tortured thought!" Gomez exclaimed loudly as you walked into the living room, earning a threatening "Father." from Wednesday which Gomez ignored. "Hello dear." Morticia gracefully walked to you, almost appearing to be floating "How far along now?" She asked, smiling at you. "Six mouths." You smiled back "We wanted to give you this." She looked back at Gomez, who held up the box. "Shell, we look through it together?" She asked pulling you away from Wednesday and to the floor where Gomez sat the box. Morticia opened it and took out stuff one by one "Here's Wednesday Teddy when he was just a little boy." She cooed and passed you a black teddy with stitches, the head ripped off "Cute.." you grimace, sitting it beside you. She pulled out kid-sized knives and swords. "Oh, this was his favorite toy!" She pulls out a toy guillotine, big enough to chop off a finger or a Barbie's head. 'So the obsession started during childhood. great.' you stared at it hopelessly.

"Son." Gomez touched Wednesday's shoulder, both of them watching their wives interact with each other, one with joy and the other hiding her disdain poorly. Gomez only got a side-eye look from his son, letting his father know he was listening, eyes back onto you "Let's talk." Gomez pat Wednesday's back and walked across the living to the hallway. Wednesday huffed and walked out.

"What do you so desperately need to talk about?" Wednesday stared his father down, wanting to be back within your essence "Son..are you sure she's the one for you? She doesn't scream...Addams material." "Are you saying you disapprove of her?" "Not exactly-" "Because if you are," Wednesday took a step closer to the older Addams "You will never see me or my children. She is my every soul, she cut open my heart and made me bleed for her. I would walk through heaven and back to please her. I would kill for her," his eyes narrowed "Even if it means you." a pregnant silence fell upon the two. If it was a cartoon you would be able to see a row of dots typing above their heads. Gomez grinned and shook his son back and forth. "You have truly found your own Morticia!" he laughed, swung his arm around the tensed Wednesday, and walked back into the room.

You yawned as you laid back into the bed; your in-laws stayed until the dark of the night arrived. Though weird, they were a joy to be around; the love they shared, you had wished for since you were little. You had gotten it from a man who rarely showed emotion, but love doesn't have to be over the top; love could be quiet yet meaningful and coming from someone like your husband. It was more special.

"Are you ready Mi alma?" Wednesday asked, pulling you into his embrace, his chin resting on your head; you tiredly nodded as the lights of the room were turned off by themselves; in the stillness of the dark and at the edge of sleep, you whispered a "Te amo." Wednesday allows his lips to curl upward just a bit in the safety of the night "Ti Amo"

Transition

Mi alma.

My soul.

Te amo.

I love you.

Ti amo.

I love you in Italian.