#and if my hand or lips slipped to hers well...

[moondirti]

simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

#should've made this a proper fic #it's longer than i expected it to be #anyway. #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #ghost #x female reader #call of duty #fanfiction

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 5. Patterned behaviour

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw

Give me the judgment of balanced minds in preference to laws every time. Codes and manuals create patterned behaviour. All patterned behaviour tends to go unquestioned, gathering destructive momentum. — Darwi Odrade

It was easy to fall to the bed afterwards, as if she belonged there. Because she did now. Feyd was still catching his breath when she curled up beside him, her knees brushing against his hip, their sweat soaking into the bedsheets. A Fremen would’ve been outraged at the sight.

“Cruel witch,” he rasped.

“What was so cruel?” she asked, trailing a finger through the inky mess on his stomach. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

He slapped her hand out of the way — but there was not so much aggression in the move as there was a certain vulnerability, like an animal slapping at his master’s hand. Feyd heaved himself upward to get out of the bed, but she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him down again.

“Where are you going?”

“To wash myself.”

“Why?” she said, her touch softening into a gentle caress across the muscles on his chest. “I like you this way…”

“Filthy woman,” he laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners.

She couldn’t help herself and smiled. Even with his frightful black teeth — which in Harkonnen culture, she had read, was supposed to be quite attractive — his boyish nature came through to show something sweet and vulnerable. What a brilliant plan it had been to give him governorship over Arrakis… After Rabban, Feyd must have appeared to the natives like a heavenly angel. She reached up and caressed his soft cheek, his hard jawline, tracing the edge of his generous lips.

“Sleep, my na-Baron,” she said, laying down beside him, holding his gaze. “You will dream of pleasant things tonight.”

“Is that a promise?” he grinned.

She knew he was making light of his nightmares, and in a way dismissing them entirely. There might come a time when they would have to address them directly — if he was serious about wanting her to serve him as his Bene Gesserit, and if she didn’t escape first — but clearly it was not tonight.

Under her soft caresses, Feyd fell asleep quite fast. She followed, slipping first into a meditation, and then into the land of dreams. And even in her sleep, the only thing she felt, and saw, and tasted, was his body.

When she woke up the next morning, she noticed she’d been moved. She was higher on the bed now, laying against the multitude of pillows, and all covered up. Feyd was sitting on the edge, getting ready.

“You were cold,” he said without even turning. His hearing was better than she thought… “And, for that matter, so was I.”

“You tucked me in?” she smiled. “How sweet of you…”

“None of that,” he said roughly, turning to level a cold stare at her. “You did a very naughty thing last night. We’re going to have to… discuss it. But not right now.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded, but deep down she was already preparing for how to turn things to her favour next. He loves pain, she told herself. That is his lever. Use it.

As he continued to get dressed, she watched him. He wasn’t very good at it — probably was used to servants helping him, and they weren’t here right now — but he knew well enough how to put his armour on. She was almost tempted to help him, but then she remembered that she was supposed to have a different purpose.

“I suppose I should get dressed as well,” she said as she slinked off the bed.

“Why is that?”

“I serve you now. I should be there with you. To advise you.”

“Advise me?” he chuckled. “What do you know of military strategy?”

More than you, she thought, but she wasn’t even sure that was completely true. It was a mystery to her, what Harkonnens taught their young.

“I know Arrakis,” she said, coming to sit beside him. They cut a striking picture, him in his black armour and her in her naked skin, both looking equally confident. “And perhaps, my lord na-Baron, you can learn more about what a Bene Gesserit can do.”

“Or what she can’t do,” he muttered. But there was already a surrender in his gaze. He had decided to bring her along, now he only had to decide how to admit it. “No talking about me,” he pointed out. “To anyone.”

“Of course.”

“And no bragging about… about —”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He chuckled. “I’ve heard that one before. I didn’t believe it back then, either.”

She didn’t miss the strange glances the other servants gave as she passed by, close behind Feyd-Rautha. They had breakfast together in a lavish dining hall, one with a long, black table and lights suspended high above. She’d never seen this room before…

His brother, Rabban, wasn’t there, and neither was the Baron.

“Do you always eat alone, my lord?” she asked him, sitting somewhere in the centre of the table, a respectable number of seats away, while Feyd sat at the head.

“Depends on what I’m eating,” he answered with a grin. “Besides, I’m not alone today, am I?”

“No,” she smiled. “You are not.”

He didn’t speak for the rest of the meal. He ate, in fact, in a hurry, eyeing her critically every now and then, judging her for how slowly she was chewing. And when he finished, he got up without even considering her presence. He paused in the doorway as he heard her scrambling to get up and follow, and bowed his head — he was suddenly regretful. Another habit of eating alone was, perhaps, his lack of consideration for others. He’d completely forgotten her by the time he finished breakfast…

She joined at his side without complaint, happy to already be doing her service: teaching him healthy new habits. Feyd looked at her quietly for a moment, and then they left together.

The day was spent in a strategy meeting, which he started without giving the time to any of his generals to question why she was there. The sight of a Bene Gesserit among the Harkonnen must’ve been rare indeed — or even that of a woman who wasn’t a slave or a serving girl.

They spoke their jagged language, and in phrases that were blissfully short. It was easy enough for her to understand even without a full vocabulary.

“Push them to the edge,” said Feyd as he stood above the map, fiddling with a neat little blade in his hands, a shiny thing of white silver. “The worms will finish what the storms do not.”

“Yes, sir, na-Baron.”

“Search scouting parties up ahead before you send in more harvesters. And I want a map of the richest spice fields by tomorrow morning.”

“Er, yes, yes sir.”

She eyed all the proceedings in silence, and in the mist of fear and anxiety, the other men completely forgot her. Their minds were so easy to read, their emotions so clear on their faces, on their hands, in the way they held themselves… And in their centre, Feyd, speaking to them as if they were Ixian automatons without any thought or feeling.

She waited for the meeting to be over before she finally joined his side and spoke.

“That was productive.”

“Was it?” he sighed, bracing his arms against the table. The door closed with finality behind his frightened generals. “I didn’t know you spoke our language,” he noted with a cocked brow.

“I am learning,” she smiled.

“Rabban left me a complete mess. It will take months to undo it.”

“Years. And you don’t have as much time as you think.”

“Really? Well, speak plainly, now.”

She turned, leaning lightly against the table so that she could better look at him. He was less sure of himself now than he had been around his men…

“If you push the Fremen too hard, they could go south. It is out of reach for us, out of control.”

“Nothing survives out there.”

“How do you know, if nobody’s ever been there but Fremen?”

He bit his lip and frowned, but didn’t disagree. “And you would do, what?”

“Relax the attacks. Give them a false sense of security. Bait them into —”

“Into exposing themselves…”

“Exactly.”

“But these savages won’t do that. They know we’ve got superior firepower. Their strength lies in their secret tactics.”

She shrugged. “You have a point…”

“But if… if we had to approach this like a fight between a stronger man and a weaker man…” he said, thinking out loud as he began to pace.

She looked at him and said nothing, letting the ideas germinate in his head.

“It’s late, it’s hot,” he sighed. “I’ll think about it more tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lord na-Baron. You still haven’t even had lunch.”

“I’ll have dinner. We’ll have dinner.”

“Another thing though… That map you requested.”

“What about it?”

“The spice fields on Arrakis are highly changeable and depend on many variables. It can take days for someone to calculate their frequency. Less if you had a Mentat. Or a thinking machine…”

Feyd chuckled. “Worried? Since when do you care about the fate of my men?”

“I don’t care about his fate. I care about whether he provides you with false information just to save his neck.”

“Hm… I’ll see what he brings me tomorrow,” he smirked, looking pointedly at her, “and maybe have you look at it.”

She paused, already unhappy with the charge she was given. Mathematical calculations were not her strong suit, but she understood she needed to submit to Feyd’s testing if she expected to be kept around.

“Yes, my lord,” she said with a light bow.

“Now, then. Let’s eat.”

She could already tell that his habits were changing. He watched her more closely and was clearly thinking about her, considering her from every angle. Although Feyd-Rautha made no effort to hide what he was feeling, she found it hard to pinpoint just what was going through his head that evening.

She met his gaze with more confidence than she felt but allowed him to watch her openly too, letting him enjoy the moments of peace between them. He seemed to only like speaking to her when the servants left the room.

“You like to watch, don’t you?” he asked, leaning back against his tall, elegant seat.

“I believe you’ve been doing the watching, my na-Baron,” she smirked.

“No, no, you know what I mean… I mean throughout the day. Us. All of us. You’re learning our language now? You’re studying our strategies. You think, you don’t speak…” he listed, his cold eyes set on her as their meals waited untouched before them. “Until my generals have gone…”

“Of course. I would not have them think your orders can be questioned.”

“Even though you question them.”

“That’s only for you to know,” she smiled.

Feyd smiled back. He suspected her of many things — both past and future betrayals — but in that moment, he appreciated her.

“Are you trying to learn more about me, my na-Baron?”

“Why not? You’re learning about us.”

“I think you’ll find me less inscrutable. If you wish to know something, simply ask.”

Feyd nodded and turned his attention to his plate at last. He cut into the meat, he moved the garnishings around, but before he could bring it to his lips he set the fork down loudly and looked up at her again.

“Why did you do that to me last night?” he quickly asked.

“Because you liked it.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re not as good at it as you think. How did you know I would like it?”

She set her knife and fork down too, and let her wrists rest upon the table. He was pulling her into something she wasn’t sure she wanted to confess, and she knew she couldn’t get him to forget it without using those Bene Gesserit tricks he hated so much. Perhaps there was a way to still turn this around in her favour…

“I merely recognised what I knew so well,” she answered quietly, her voice floating through the penumbra toward him.

“And where did you recognise it from?”

“From myself.”

Feyd leaned back again, his lips pulled into a grin. There was doubt in his eyes, but the rest of him seemed so intrigued, so glad about this new development, that she could almost guess what he was going to say next.

He’ll want to see it, she thought. He’ll want to see me like that. Exposed. Vulnerable before him.

“Show me,” he said, confirming everything.

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath

[ncroissant]

you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #tnmn #tnmn milkman #milkman #that #that's not my neighbour #that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #x reader #ncrescent asks

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Mean Eddie series, part five.

Mdni. This is a tiny bit angsty but mostly complete fluff because I think we need that after the last four parts. 💞

This is the final part.

If you have any requests then let me know 💞

💌💞

You approach Eddie during lunch. He immediately stops chatting to his friends and gives you his full attention. Fuck what were you doing? Did you really want to give Eddie the chance to hurt you again?

He must have left the flowers for a reason though and you're determined to find out why. Was it his way of an apology? An olive branch? Did it mean he missed you?

Fuck. The constant loop of anxiety and questions were making you stressed. His eyes light up when he sees you and you're sure you're experiencing whiplash. One minute he was an asshole then the next he was excited to see you?

Be strong. Don't be fooled by those pretty eyes again, you steel yourself and ignore the way your heart skips a beat. You can do this.

"I got your flowers. They were beautiful, thank you. It's not going to fix you being an asshole though" Eddie smiles softly and nods.

"I know that princess. I just wanted to make you smile", ooh he could be a charmer when he wanted to be.

"Wait, what the hell is going on?" Mike asks confused and Dustin rolls his eyes along with Lucas and Gareth.

"Dude, wake up. There's obviously something going on there. Do I have to tell you everything?" Dustin sighs exasperated and Mike looks between you and Eddie.

"She's from the dark side" he yelps and Eddie fixes Mike with a warning look. "Yeah, no shit Wheeler, I don't want to hear one word against her. You got it?"

Mike nods and you can't help but be amused and slightly touched by Eddie's protectiveness. Still could he not have been more like this earlier?

"Could you not have had that attitude earlier Eddie?" His cheeks darken and he holds your gaze.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I've been a dick but I'll make it up to you. However long it takes for you to forgive me. I'll wait"

...

💌

Eddie is endlessly patient, he picks you up from school every day and takes you home. He kisses your hand before you head into your house and says, "Until next time sweetheart"

It's lovely but there's still the fact the two of you really need to talk and the next time that he drives you home you turn to him and ask to talk.

"Eddie, so much has happened and I need to know what we are, I'm confused. One minute you're blowing hot and cold and now you...

Eddie intertwines his fingers with yours "I miss you" he murmurs and you're confused.

"But you said this was just sex. Nothing has changed" he swallows and his brown eyes soften when they look at you.

"That's what I thought, but not anymore, I miss being with you" you've dared to hope before and got your heart broken. You can't keep doing this to yourself.

"You miss the sex" you murmur and he shakes his head looking frustrated.

"Yeah I do because it's fucking mind-blowing princess but I miss you. Being with you, your giggles and your sweetness and just you. I miss you" oh. Well fuck.

Could he not have realised this any sooner, you wipe away your tears and hesitantly step forward and slip your hand through Eddie's. He tightens the hold and brings your hand up to his lips, kisses over your knuckles softly.

"Munson. You have shitty timing" you joke but there is a tiny bloom in your chest of elation.

"I know, I could have figured my shit out way sooner princess but I want this to work. I'm serious" you can tell and squeeze his hand.

"No more fuck ups. I mean it Eddie" you warn him and he gives you a sweet smile.

"Milady, you will be spoiled rotten and treated like the princess you are" his eyes are full of reverence and you can tell he means it.

"Well my brave knight, take me to your castle" he obliges and you head off to his.

💞

Six months later.

"Eddie be serious" you giggle as he trails off from where he was reading you The Hobbit and kisses you, peppers kisses over your forehead and cheeks then your lips.

"Can I help it that my girl is so beautiful and I want to kiss her all the time?" Charmer. You snuggle closer to him and he strokes your hair,

"Love you princess" he says as he holds your gaze and he makes your heart soar and gives you that pesky butterflies, giddy feeling.

"I love you too Eds" he's still smiling, all cute dimples and sweetness. There's a storm outside and it adds to the cozy atmosphere as you snuggle closer to him and he continues to read to you.

Six months since the day you gave Eddie a second chance and every day feels like heaven.

💞💞

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #mean eddie munson series #eddie munson

[ohsuguru]

hi li shen i’m so late forgive me pls 👴🏽: can i request edging with gojo? making her describe in detail what she wants even tho he knows bc he’s a bastard like that

satoru who gets his girlfriend to voice her wants in bed, even if it meant edging it out of her ⁀ ❣︎

˚ʚ minors, ageless and blank blogs dni! ɞ˚

cw: p in v, unprotected sex (pls wrap before you tap), edging, thigh job, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, mean satoru

an: omg omg hihi ❣︎ thanks so much for requesting naomi (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟi hope i did your request justice hehe i had so much fun writing it !! i kept getting inspired the more i wrote so thank you again for sending it ~

"use your words, princess," that sultry, sweet coo of your boyfriend's voice flits to your ears as his large hands guide your hips against his length. "i've taught you well, haven't i?"

your back is pressed against his toned chest, sweat pooling at the bottom of your spine, head thrown back against his broad shoulder. all the motor neurons in your body twitch with arousal and frustration when you feel satoru's cockhead catch against your aching hole before it slips past once again, his mushroom tip peek-a-booing between your thighs.

"uhm– uh–" your mind tries to formulate your instructions to satoru, but it feels like your brain is smothered in cotton, fluffy and dampening your senses - so much so that the only thing you can think of is the way your lover's fingers grip your hips slightly harder to drag you back to reality.

"i jus'- jus' need youu," you hiccup, your voice pitchy and cloying all for satoru's ears.

he couldn't help but think that this was all your fault, really. who asked you to sound so fucked out and lewd, like a siren beckoning him to the depths of your flesh, goading him to sink his throbbing cock into your soft and warm core. who asked you to sound so needy that he can't help but want to edge you and edge you and edge you?

"i know that, baby girl," satoru hums, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he slows down his movements, the drop in friction making you push your hips down against his length, trying to get him to pick his speed back up. "but i need you to tell me exactly what you want. i don't know what goes on in that pretty head of yours."

you can't help but dig your nails into the pale skin of his arms, a frustrated whine leaving your drool-slicked, kiss-bitten lips.

"i- i want you in me," you try again, making your instructions clearer for the cheeky white-haired sorcerer. "wan' you to fill me up."

"yes, but what do you want in you, princess?" he giggles - the audacity of this man to giggle - his large hand dragging up your body to tilt your head to face him as his other one disappears down between your thighs. 

"do you want my fingers?" he continues, his thick digits swirling against your swollen clit, your boyfriend humming when he feels that pearly nub twitch and harden under his touch. he swirls it, and circles it before he parts your lower lips, index and middle finger spreading your sensitive flesh.

the spreading of your labia slots his thick length against you more, coating his cock in more your sweetened juices as he bucks his hips, the sudden action jolting that squeak he loves so much.

"or do you want my cock?" satoru grins lecherously, his twinkling blue eyes taking in your lewd expression. the fingers on your face push your maw apart, forcing you to speak.

"your cock! satoru, please," you immediately plead, voice cracking, eyebrows pinching into the middle of your forehead, sweat pricking at your hairline. "pretty please."

"see? that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

of course, satoru wouldn't praise you for voicing your wants, not when he knew exactly what you needed. your boyfriend knew your body better than you did, where to push your buttons, how to bend and mold your body to his needs and desires.

but what he never said in words, he always made up with his actions.

satoru pushes his aching length into your warm pussy, the sensation dragging out a satisfied moan from the two of you. but what you don't realise through your lust-filled haze is that satoru had also been edging himself as much as he has been edging you. the self-restraint this man has is unwavering, especially when it came to you. 

satoru was long, veiny, and had the most wicked curve to his cock, pressing against that sweet spot within your cunt without him even needing to try.

carved by the gods, just for you.

but just when you thought his edging marathon was over, he completely stills in you, dick buried to the hilt in your gummy walls.

"what do you want now, princess?" satoru asks, head tilting to the side like a cat who's cornered a mouse. "and i need you to tell me in painful detail, okay, baby?"

you swallow thickly, core stretched out around him as you try to take charge instead, pushing your hips down. the veins on his cock drags against your gummy walls, pulling out a relieved whine from your lips as you ride his dick slightly, a reprieve, a shining light at the end of the tunnel.

until satoru completely snuffs it out by gripping your hips strongly, completely stilling your movement. 

"nuh-uh, baby," he tsks through a mischievous giggle. "you gotta listen to me. so i'm going to ask you again, whaddya want?"

"ugh– i want– i want you t'fuck me," you groan out, eyes fluttering as your mind plays out first what you wanted before your pretty voice tells satoru. "i want you to– to use me, roughly..."

"and then?" he probes, a shiver travelling down his spine when you finally give in to what your lover wants. hearing you talk so dirtily always made him harder than a rock. his fingers travel down to your pussy, using your body almost as a fidget toy, tapping your clit idly, a tacky sound echoing through the room.

"i wanna feel your– your cock drag through my cunt. tip fucking my cervix and your fingers playing with my clit, and– and– and then i want you t'fill me up with your cum–"

"woah, princess," he cuts you off, head dropping to your neck as he drags his tongue up the expanse of your throat, committing the taste of your skin to his mind as if he could never get enough of it. "aren't you a lewd thing? who knew you had such a dirty mouth on ya? you've been hiding that from–"

"satoru, just fuck me!"

and to get your point across even more, you clench around him tightly, trying to get him to move along. your boyfriend did always talk too much sometimes.

"jeez, okay," satoru relents with a roll of his eyes, his hand leaving your hips briefly to run it through his dampened hair. "but just so you know, you asked for this."

satoru immediately flips you onto your front, smushing your face into his pillow as he pistons his hips into yours. it's salacious, the sounds that he's dragging out from your body, squelch after squelch, your moans muffled by his pillow as you bite down into it, drool pooling from the sides of your mouth.

he fucked you like a rabid dog, leg propped up beside your perked-up ass, using that leverage to do exactly what you wanted. his bulbous tip drags through your cunt, stretching it out for the rest of his length, veiny skin adding to the friction of it all. his fingers move to your clit, bullying the swollen nub, pinching and circling it, pooling arousal from your body which creates a white ring at the base of his cock, the sight sinful and arousing for your boyfriend.

"toru– hahh– thank you, s'ank you!" your words melt into an almost incoherent babble as your orgasm flares up quickly after being edged for so long. satoru pushes your back down more, arching your body up as he gives your ass a spank, getting you to keep that position. the zing of pain jolts your body, sending your pussy clenching around him more, sucking him into your cervix.

the curve in his dick smushes against your g-spot, sloppily making out with it until you momentarily pass out with a loud cry of his name, bed rocking with the pure force of your orgasm, body going completely limp if it wasn't for the way satoru was holding your hips up.

your squirt completely sends him over the edge as he finishes soon after, painting your wet insides with white-hot cum, filling you up to the brim just like you asked. so much so, it seeps out of your sopping cunt despite his dick still buried inside, his gaze trained on the mix of your essences dripping out.

satoru pulls out his softening cock, the plug of his length no longer keeping everything inside as it bubbles out of your twitching hole which causes him to tch unhappily. 

"i thought you said you wanted me to fill you up with my cum, princess. i guess i better stuff my fingers in you to keep it there, huh?"

#li shen writes - ˚ʚ❣︎ɞ˚ #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x you smut #satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut #satoru x you #satoru x you smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #anime smut

[hp-hcs]

phantasm (remember?) — mattheo riddle x gn! hella manipulative! reader

phantasm noun noun: phantasm; plural noun: phantasms

LITERARY a figment of the imagination; an illusion or apparition.

warnings: minor character death, murder, severe manipulation, gaslighting, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to self harm,❗️stand-alone/no part two❗️

is he schizophrenic, high, or haunted? you decide!

❕it’s supposed to be confusing!!! you should finish reading this and be like “what the fuck did i just read”, alr?❕

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Mattheo Riddle had always been odd. Everyone knew that.

Maybe it had something to do with his parents. One Crucio from his father too many, perhaps. 

Maybe he hit his head when he was younger. That wasn’t too much of a stretch. He’d always been quite reckless. 

But either way, no one could pinpoint what event caused Mattheo to see things that weren’t really there. 

~~~

It first came to light when Mattheo, staying the night at his cousin’s house for a sleepover at the tender age of five, stomped over to his Aunt Narcissa to tattle.

“They pushed me down th’ stairs, Aunt Cissy!” he whined, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. “See? I even skinned my knee!”

“Who did? Draco?”

“No, Y/n!”

~~~

Mattheo couldn’t remember much about the Janus Thickey ward. 

He’d spent a month there when he was six, but didn’t have a single memory of his time there. Just vague flashes that haunted his nightmares, but ones that he could never remember once he woke. 

Narcissa remembered though. And so did Draco. 

The Malfoys both remember visiting Mattheo in the hospital, Draco clutching Mattheo’s stuffed dragon under one arm and holding onto the string of a “Get Well Soon!” mylar balloon in his other hand, only for the pair to find Mattheo hiding under his bed and mumbling to himself, furiously scratching at his arms and crying. 

The Malfoys remember. 

~~~

Mattheo couldn’t remember if you had always been there, or if you just showed up one day. 

There were a lot of things Mattheo couldn’t remember. 

~~~

“Who can tell me what a boggart is?” Professor Moody asked, pacing the front of the room with his odd, uneven gait. An old antique armoire stood near the front of the room, a large area around it cleared of the usual clutter that filled every inch of the classroom. 

Surprising absolutely nobody, Granger’s hand shot up. 

Mattheo shot a look over to his cousin, rolling his eyes, while Draco smothered a laugh in response.

“A boggart is a creature that takes on the form of one’s greatest fear, sir,” Granger said in that obnoxious know-it-all tone of hers. “No one knows what their true forms are.”

“One’s greatest fear, sir,” Mattheo mocked under his breath to Draco in a purposefully bad imitation of Granger. 

“Ah, Riddle. How nice of you to volunteer. Step on up, boy.” Moody’s hand came down on Mattheo’s shoulder from behind him, gripping it firmly. “Go on. Grab your wand.”

Mattheo’s face drained of color. Surely Moody wouldn’t…?

No, it’s Mad-Eye Moody. Of course he’d do something like this. 

Mattheo stood on shaking legs, gulping as he approached the ominously placed armoire. 

Everyone watched with rapt attention. 

What was Mattheo Riddle afraid of?

The Dark Lord? Dumbledore?

Or something more benign, like spiders or small spaces?

Whatever it was, Mattheo’s fellow students were not expecting a teenager to step out of the armoire. 

Maybe fourteen at the most, unassuming, wearing…Riddle’s quidditch jersey?

They weren’t a student, that was for sure. Nobody in the room recognized them.

(Except for the one poor bastard whose boggart it was.)

Professor Moody narrowed his eyes at the boggart, his gaze quickly shifting between the harmless-looking teen and the literal son of the Dark Lord, the latter of which was frozen stiff with fear, his wand threatening to slip from his quivering fingers at any moment.

The boggart tilted its head and smiled.

~~~

Is this how Potter feels, when Father’s inside his head?

Mattheo sat uncomfortably across from Professor Moody, the professor’s desk being the only thing separating them.

The professor said nothing, merely observing Mattheo. A bizarre enchanted cuckoo clock on the wall trumpeted like an elephant, signaling the hour, then returned to its steady tick tick tick.

“Mr. Riddle, do you ever hear…voices? Voices that maybe…encourage you to do bad things?”

Mattheo was sweating. How did he know about you? How?

“He’s just trying to get in your head, Mattheo,” you murmured, sitting next to him in the other armchair. “That’s all.”

Was it? Mattheo wondered. 

“Y’know, I’m starting to think you’re the one that’s in my head,” he said softly. “Nobody else thinks you’re real.”

Your face soured. “You think I’m not real? That I don’t exist? Huh? He’s lying to you! He’s a liar and a manipulator!”

“Just get out of my head!” Mattheo pleaded quietly. “Please!”

You fumed, jumping up to sit on the edge of Moody’s desk. You swung your legs back and forth, an angry expression marring your features. “Matty-”

“Stop calling me that!” he snapped. “Just go away! Leave me alone!”

“But you’re my best friend, Matty,” you insisted innocently. 

“We are not friends!”

You sighed dramatically as you laid down on the desk, putting the back of your hand up to your forehead—as if pretending to faint—as you did so. “Then what are we, Matty? Paramours? Estranged lovers?”

“Enemies,” he hissed, his knuckles white with how tightly he was clenching his fists. 

“Well, I have always loved the enemies to lovers trope,” you said breezily, smirking at him. “Besides, you haven’t got anyone else. Admit it. I’m all you have.”

Moody watched Mattheo have his one-sided conversation with wide eyes, unsure of what was happening. “Mr. Riddle? Are you alright? Wh-who are you talking to?”

“See?” You clicked your tongue, shaking your head slowly. “He thinks you’re crazy.”

“There are many talented healers that I could contact–”

Mattheo’s gaze kept darting between you and Moody as his breathing picked up. 

“Bet he wants to send you back to Janus Thickey,” you whispered, purposefully turning your voice soft and fearful, blinking back fake tears. “I don’t want to disappear again, Mattheo, please.”

“I–” Mattheo stammered, dread creeping up his spine at the thought of being alone again. 

“Please?” you begged. “You know what to do. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.”

“He– what? No!”

“But he wronged you,” you whisper softly, your tone manipulative and gentle. “He deserves to suffer.”

“Stop it!” Mattheo pleaded again, reflexively drawing his wand and pointing it at you. 

“He wronged you,” you repeated, eyes narrowing. 

“Stop!”

“He deserves to suffer.”

“Shut up!”

“He wronged you.”

“Y/n!”

“He deserves–”

“Avada Kedavra!”

You both fell silent, your argument abruptly cut off with the resounding thunk of Moody’s body hitting the floor. 

Dead. 

~~~

“Oh my Merlin– y-you killed someone!” Mattheo panicked, dropping his wand and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. 

“Oh, no no no, Matty. I didn’t kill anyone,” you said sweetly, examining your nails apathetically. “You did.”

“I’ll tell everyone,” Mattheo threatened through his quivering lower lip. “I will. I’ll tell them it was you.”

“Who’s going to believe you?” you cooed, your voice dripping in saccharine sweetness as you leaned forward to tousle his hair. 

Mattheo flinched back. 

You laughed, patting his cheek as you hopped off the desk. “Come find me when you’re ready to help me with my next…project.”

“Y-you planned this?”

“Duh.” You rolled your eyes. “Catch up, love. You’re not stupid.”

With that, you stand up on tiptoe, plant a fat kiss on his cheek, and disappear out the door without another word. 

Mattheo swore he could see bloody footprints marking your trail down the hall. 

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #x reader #hp x gn reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #x gn reader #gn reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

[imyourbratzdoll]

Ok I just saw that I need to put it on here but Imma copy and paste my ideas and you can go from there or change up whatever you don't like, you just do what you feel is best for the part 2❤️ dom!charlie, a little bit of spanking, daddy kink, handcuffs, a lot of dirty talk, oral, desk and chair, him teasing her a lot, and having the office door unlocked (like the thrill that someone could walk in)

hi! I'm sorry for taking so long, but I finally got around to it, and I hope you enjoy part 2! thank you so much for requesting this, I love charlie so much.

part 2 of a freaky chief and his girl

summary - after riding your man in his police cruiser and getting caught, he decides why not extend it to his office.

warning - smut, oral, degrading maybe, mentions of slut and whore, creampie, nearly caught, semi-public sex, handcuffs, daddy kink, swearing, praising, aftercare, dirty talk, spanking.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Once Charlie pulled you into his office, he pushed you against the door. “Are you gonna be my good girl? Or do I need to arrest you for public indecency?” You bat your lashes as you stare up at him innocently, a soft smirk on your lips as you reach your hand up and shut the blinds before putting your hands in front of you.

“I think you’ll have to arrest me, Chief. If I’m not caught now, I don’t think I’ll ever learn my lesson.”

Charlie grunts, a dark look in his eyes as he grabs his handcuffs and cuffs you, binding your wrists together tightly causing you to let out a sweet moan. He hooks his finger around the chain, dragging you over to his desk. “You will address me as Daddy in this office, if you disobey. You will get punished, do you understand?” You don’t reply for a second, too stunned by how your cunt pulses at how dominant he���s become in a split second. A slap echoes throughout the room as his hand comes down on your arse hard, his other hand grips the back of your neck, squeezing as he leans close to your ear. “I said. Do you understand, you little slut.” 

You nod, thighs slick with your arousal. “Yes! I understand, Daddy!” 

“Good girl. Now, I’m going to fuck you against my desk so that whenever I come to work and sit here. I’ll remember taking apart my little girl.” He growls into your ear before bending you over the desk and lifting the cute little sundress you showed up in, exposing your messy thighs that are mixed with your arousal and his cum from when he previously fucked you in the police cruiser. Charlie groans at the sight before him. “Public indecency and leaving evidence?” He tuts, never taking his eyes off of your glistening cunt. “Your punishment may have to be harsher than I anticipated.”

You whimper when you hear his belt buckle and a breathy moan escapes you as he slaps your arse repeatedly until his mark is left behind and more of your arousal drips down your thighs. “If you are a good girl and take daddy’s cock without any complaints, I’ll reward you real nice.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes in, his thick girth stretching you as he groans by how tight you still are. 

“DADDY” You are sure the whole damn station can hear what’s going on behind their chief’s office door. But you don’t care as your nails dig into the palms of your hands, moans filling the room as Charlie stretches you out.

Charlie’s cock twitches as he slides deeper inside your warm cunt. “So fuckin’ good.” He grunts again, eyes slipping shut as he grips your hips and begins to pound into your tight hole, setting a rough pace and already hitting the right spots with how well he knows you and your little cunt. “Still so fuckin’ tight even when acting like the little slut you are.” He grips your hips tighter, causing bruises to form. “You think you can just walk into my station and tease me? Tease my men.” You nod, liking how his voice sounds so possessive even through your dazed and fuzzy mind. You barely register his words, only how he sounds. 

He continues to pound into you like the whore you are. He’s never usually this rough, but you and your cunt like this side of him. Causing you to suck him in deeper, making your body tingle as you are close to cumming but just as you are about to, Charlie pulls out and you whine, though it turns into a moan as he slaps your cunt making your clit buzz with pleasure. “Don’t be such a greedy slut, you’ll cum when I tell you to.” He walks around his desk and relocates you, but just before he can slide back into your dripping cunt, there’s a knock at the door. 

Charlie mutters curse words under his breath, annoyed at whoever is interrupting the two of you. “Who is it?!” You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the roughness in his voice. You just want to jump him at that very moment– No one would really expect Charlie to be extremely sexually active, hell you didn’t when you first met him and he wasn’t until he met you. He didn’t see the point of going out and finding someone when he had his hand, plus it was a small town, word would get around and he definitely didn’t want that. But when you moved to the small town of Forks and looked at him with those big eyes, kissable plump lips and that little sundress that hugged your body just right. He knew he wanted you and didn’t care if word got around about him fucking the young newcomer. Except it never was just sex, Charlie wanted to do everything right and you were the first woman that he felt something for since his ex-wife left him. 

“It’s me, Char–Dad!” You were lucky you were bent over the desk cause you could roll your eyes without Charlie seeing, you never understood how his own daughter treated him like an inconvenience when all he did was right by her. “Can I come in? Why’s your door shut and blinds closed?” Her awkwardness was literally seeping through the door, maybe that’s why they never got along, because they were too much alike in personality. He didn’t push and she wanted to isolate. 

Charlie huffs quietly, whispering. “C’mon, Sugar. Lemme get these cuffs off you, might have to do this another time.” He pulls you up gently, but you shake your head and turn, keeping eye contact as you sink to your knees and get underneath the desk. Watching as his Adam's apple bobs up and down, knowing what you wanted him to do by your actions. He sits in his chair, scooting it as close to the desk as possible, making sure you had enough room and weren’t too cramped. When you give him a nod, he begins to pretend that he’s been working. “Yeah, Bells. You can come in.” 

The moment she walks in, you see Charlie tense and guess that her boyfriend Edward wasn’t too far behind her. You lick your lips as you stare at his throbbing member, watching as a bead of pre-cum gathers atop his tip before rolling down, your eyes watching as it follows your favourite thick vein that you always like to mess with. “So…” She pauses, probably scratching the back of her neck or fiddling with her fingers as she usually does when she talks. “Your door and blinds?” 

You zone out, your attention focusing on Charlie’s cock. You wonder how he’s still hard, most guys would’ve gone soft by now. But he’s still throbbing and twitching every so often that it makes your mouth water. Maybe it’s because you were nearly caught or the fact that you're under the desk, dripping all over his floor. You can’t take it anymore, you lean forward and give a small lick to the pre-cum that had dripped down before following it back up with your tongue, flatting the muscular organ against his base before it reaches his tip where you collect more of his sweetness. You have to hold yourself back from moaning, you always make so much noise when you pay attention to his cock. Charlie had never met someone who gets so excited and needy when sucking a cock, until you came along and worshiped it without being asked or forced. Hell, the amount of times you’ve gotten onto your knees or under a table or really anywhere just to take his cock out and taste it were the times he was glad he was the Chief.

Charlie grips the mouse in his hand tightly, clenching his teeth as he holds back a groan before roughly answering his daughter's question. “Wanted some privacy. Is that so wrong?” Mostly, Charlie is a sweet guy. He’d never intentionally be rude or mean to someone unless he has a reason and right now his reason is that his daughter and her good for nothing boyfriend interrupted him from destroying your sweet cunt, but now he has to deal with your slutty self sucking him off under the desk WITHOUT making a sound or getting to lean back and enjoy it. So yes, he was a bit pissed off. “What’d you want, Bella? I’m kind of busy here.” 

Bella shuffles awkwardly while Edwards eyes are pinned to the desk, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out something. “Uh… Wanted to tell you that I’ll be cooking dinner tonight and that Edward will be joining us.” She gestures to her boyfriend. Your mouth latches onto Charlie’s angry red tip, sucking it greedily, your eyes practically crossing as you are greeted with more of his taste. His grip tightens, one hand moving subtly (well it was subtle to his daughter, not so much the vampire) and grips your hair. He didn’t know whether to pull you off or push you deeper onto his cock. 

“Fine. ‘S that all?” He bites down on his tongue, pushing your head down, feeling you take all of him, your tongue and mouth moving rapidly as you lather him with your saliva. Your head bobs up and down, sucking him deeper and harder, wanting him to cum down your throat. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his grip tightens, causing your cunt to clench and unclench around nothing. 

Bella nods awkwardly, “Yeah. I’m uh gonna go to the Cullens for a bit, Esme’s giving me the recipe.” If Edward could blush, he’d be as red as a tomato right now, he had finally figured out what was happening and was wishing he didn’t have super hearing or such a strong sense of smell.

Your cuffed hands grab onto Charlie’s leg, digging into him as his tip hits the back of your throat and you force back the gag that threatens to come out. You remove your hands from his leg and reach up, tugging and rolling his balls while you deepthroat him. You know that he’ll definitely be feral by the time they leave. “C–cool.” He clears his throat. “See you back at home.” He nods, watching with dark eyes as they leave, not without noticing Edward glancing at the desk every now and then. 

The moment the door shuts, Charlie rips you off of him and pulls you up, pressing you against the desk. “That was so fuckin’ risky, you fuckin’ slut.” His hand wraps around your throat and tightens. “Couldn’t just wait for them to be gone. Just had to have Daddy’s cock like a whore.” He growls and you could swear that you’re even hornier than before. “I’m gonna fuck you against this fuckin’ desk and you’re not gonna hold back those fuckin’ sounds of yours. I want everyone in this goddamn station to know who’s making you feel so good.” 

You nod, opening your mouth to reply but a loud moan rips through your throat as Charlie thrusts into your slick cunt with no warning. His hand tightens more around your throat as the other reaches between the two of you and begins to rub harsh circles onto your puffy clit. “Who do you belong to?!” Your eyes roll back for what feels like the twentieth time as he slaps your clit. “Answer me!” 

Your back arches, your sore arse pressing harder into the edge of the desk as Charlie thrusts deeper into you. “Y–yours! I’m yours, Daddy!” You scream, squeezing your hands into fists because you can’t grip onto anything. “P–please! Can I cum?!” Your walls clench around him, squeezing his cock. 

He grunts. “Do you think you deserve it?” You shake your head, not wanting to lie. Charlie moves closer, pressing his lips against yours before taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently. He pulls back when your lip is red and puffy, looking into your eyes and seeing how dazed they’ve become. “Such a good girl. Cum for Daddy.” Your moan is cut short when he kisses you again, this time rougher and needier. 

Your cunt pulses like crazy as you let go. Your arousal dripping onto his cock, your moans getting swallowed by his lips. You whimper as you come down from your high, vision beginning to go white as he continues to use your cunt for his release. Charlie’s cock twitches before he pumps his thick load into you, coating your walls white. “Good fuckin’ girl.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead before slowly pulling out, quickly tucking himself in before he uncuffs you and reaches into his draw to grab some wipes. He sets you down onto his chair, kneeling in front of you as he cleans you up before grabbing your hands and checking your wrists, placing gentle kisses on the red marks. “You did good for me, Sweetheart. Can you stand?” 

You nod, head still fuzzy and gaze a bit unfocused as you grip the arms of the chair and pull yourself up, only to fall forward and into Charlie’s arms. You shake your head, burying your face into his neck. He always takes such good care of you afterwards, it never fails to warm your heart. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

“What about work?” You snuggle into his arms, enjoying the warmth that radiates off of him. 

Charlie moves around his office, collecting your things and wrapping his jacket around you. “I’m the Chief, Sweetheart. If they really need me, they know where to find me.” He holds you tighter before opening the door, the amount of eyes that shoot towards him is ridiculous. “Shouldn’t you all be working?” He grunts. 

The same man that caught the two of you in the car steps forward with a smirk. “Sorry, Chief. We couldn’t work with the amount of noise going on, thought someone was getting murdered in there.” He and a few fellow officers laugh. “But glad ya put the office to good use, Boss.”

Charlie huffs, eyes daggered. “Back to work. I’m taking my girl home, so don’t expect me back unless it’s real urgent.” With that, he walks out of the station and sets you down gently into the passenger seat. “‘S alright, Sweetheart. Get some rest, I’ll wake you when we're home.” He buckles you in, pressing a sweet kiss to your plump lips before hopping into the driver's side. Resting his hand on your thigh as he drives the two of you home.

Let’s just say dinner was eventful. Well, mostly for Edward. It was one of those nights where he wished he wasn’t a vampire, must’ve been something about the day really. The sucky thing about being a vampire is your eyesight is a lot better than a humans and you had a few marks that weren’t visible to the human eye. He wished he could’ve been set on fire when he saw your puffy lips and the bruises forming around your neck, didn’t help the fact that your thoughts weren’t blocked and he finally got the mental image of what was going on in that office and under that desk. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #rcwifeask #imyourbratzdollwork #charlie swan #charlie swan x reader #twilight saga #charlie swan fanfiction #charlie swan fanfic #charlie swan fandom #charlie swan fluff #charlie swan fic #charlie swan imagines #charlie swan imagine #charlie swan oneshot #charlie swan one shot #charlie swan angst #charlie swan x female reader #charlie swan x fem!reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight #the twilight saga #twilight fandom

[renjunphile]

for the rest of ours ᡣ𐭩 song eunseok

୨♡୧ WORD COUNT: 13.4k ୨♡୧ PAIRING: riize's song eunseok x female!reader ୨♡୧ TAGS & WARNINGS: chaebol heirs!au, rich kids!au, one sided enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, angsty at the start, overall fluff, reader is selfish and mean to eunseok for a good chunk of the story, brief unrequited love but y/n is an unreliable narrator tbh, second chance romance, she fell first but he fell harder trope, drinking, partying, non linear narrative

୨♡୧ SYNOPSIS: you find song eunseok to be utterly and despicably insufferable. too bad he's your fiancé since birth! and there was nothing you could do about it!

୨♡୧ NOTES: OHHHH im having such an intense eunseok rot that i had to write the most gut wrenching and nonsensical piece that becomes to sickeningly fluffy at the end. theyre just so in love with each other and there's literally no plot at all!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey one of the worst pieces i've written in recent times since i rushed it but i will edit and add scenes and plot in the future :> but for now, enjoy! ♡ i.b let my by zayn at the end :)

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

It may be disturbing for some and horrifying to say, but your eyes hadn't even fully formed in the womb to open and your limbs weren't even well defined enough to have joints when your life was signed off to another's. For goodness' sake, it had barely even been a month since your tiny, minuscule heart started beating! What would the Song's have done if you grew up ugly?

You sighed to yourself, muttering under your breath how Korea's third richest family should be grateful you were akin to art in anyone's eyes. You were looking through the dusty photo albums that the housekeeper found while tidying the primary study of the mansion, and you grimaced at the photos of your fiancé that appeared from even the very first page.

It was bad enough that you were engaged before you were born, but did he really have to attend your birth? He probably didn't even have memories then! But there it was, under your fingertips: a perfectly preserved photo of a 3-month old Eunseok bundled up in sleep suit being posed next to where the nurses placed you after they literally just took you out of your mother. You don't even think the umbilical cord had been cut yet.

"Y/N, Mr. Song is outside," your favourite housekeeper coos at you from the double doors going into the study. You give her a terse smile and stand up from your father's office chair, straightening your silk gown before taking her hand as she helped you down the marble stairs of your home.

You roll your eyes (mostly to yourself, but you didn't mind if he noticed) as you saw his car parked at the bottom of the stairs leading to your front door.

"You can't even be bothered to come and collect me? Or open the door for me?" you sneer as soon as you settled yourself into the passenger seat.

"Well hello to you too, my lovely wife," Eunseok smirks, immediately revving and setting off around the fountain of your courtyard.

"I'm not your wife," you snap, deciding to ignore when the word 'yet' seems to slip under his breath, "But seriously Eunseok? This car? I'm going to look so stupid trying to get out of this car in my dress and heels. Why do you love sitting on the floor so much?"

Eunseok has an extensive car range. One that any car junkie would envy, but Song Eunseok knew nothing about cars. He just had them because he could. This car was a sports car where you had to sit in such a ridiculous position just so the car could look cool on the outside.

"It's white!" he defends himself, slightly whining in a cute way to which you swallow down a positive reaction. His eyes flicker over to you momentarily and his tongue traces across his bottom lip, "You look gorgeous, by the way. Very bridal."

You're wearing a white silk dress that looks like it's made for your body. It's draped so beautifully around your hips and hugs every part that needs to be accentuated. You loved this dress the second you saw it in Paris, but you never thought then that it would be used for this occasion. 

"Just shut up and drive," you quip. It takes a few moments of silence for you to feel bad even though his expression remains neutral and you sigh, "I guess you don't look too bad."

"Aw, I knew you were in love with me!" he teases again, a phrase he liked to use every time you said something to him that wasn't snarky, sarcastic or an insult.

You choose not to reply, instead taking in the bright lights of Seoul as he pulls into a main road. You haven't been back in a while, holing yourself up in your penthouse in Manhattan, but you always loved the sight of home.

"But seriously, Y/N," Eunseok coughs to get your attention, his voice dropping down low and suddenly serious, "This actually might be your last chance to back out of this. Just say the word and I'll turn this car around and take you straight to Incheon and you can run away around the world long enough until they find me a new bride."

You turn to look at him, perplexed by his words, "And you? You actually want to get hitched off to some random?"

Eunseok shrugs, not meeting your eyes, "You're not some random. I've known you since you were born. I've known you'd be my wife since the day I could understand what that meant. But if I have to find a replacement because you don't want to do it anymore, I will."

"Gee, ever the gentleman," you deadpan, "I think want is a pretty strong word. I don't want to marry you, but I guess I will."

"You're not backing out? Not leaving me looking stupid up on the altar?" Eunseok taps his finger on the leather steering wheel.

You think about his words sincerely. There's really nothing more in the world that you'd love than to run away to a small little town on the southern coast of Italy- somewhere quaint and quiet where you'd find love and spend the rest of your days cooking, cleaning, baking and finding peace in the ocean. There's nothing more in the world that you want more than for someone to ask to marry you because they were in love with your soul and not having you by their side would be like torture in the cruelest form.

Alas, you're Kang Y/N of the powerful Kang family, the eldest child of your father and the next heir waiting to take over the conglomerate. And because you're Kang Y/N, the eldest daughter of the second richest family in Korea, you were contracted to marry the first son of the third richest family in Korea. After that, your companies would merge and you would overtake the Kim's as the sole ruler of the country.

"It's my duty," you swallow nervously as you begin to recognise the streets of where you were driving, signalling that you were soon approaching the venue, "It's fine, Eunseok."

"I wish it wasn't just fine. I wish this was what you wanted." he breathes out and your heart stops beating for a second before anger seeps in through the cracks of your heart.

"Do you think it's any girl's dream to marry someone that doesn't love them?"

Eunseok sighs as he presses on the breaks, moving through the lifted barrier where they had closed a portion of the street in anticipation for his car and your arrival. He twists his body to look at you, "Y/N-"

"It's fine, Eunseok," you grit your teeth as you repeat your words, eyes trained on the paparazzi camped out on the steps of the venue, eager to get a glimpse of you, "Let's just get this engagement party over with."

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

Song Eunseok had to follow you around the world like a lost puppy.

When you said that you wanted to go to that boarding school in Switzerland where only the richest sent their kids, Eunseok was in the seat next to you on that first class flight. When you said that you were going to Oxford to study for your undergraduate degree, Eunseok was tossing away his dream to study at Harvard to join you getting drunk at 18 under the grey British sky. When you said that you wanted to do your masters at Columbia so you could live in New York City, Eunseok was moving into the apartment across yours while he worked at the company his dad created in New York just for him to have something to do there.

If you said jump, Eunseok had to say how high?

That was just the name of the game considering the Song's had more to gain from this arrangement. Your family was richer. Your family was in a greater range of industries. Your family's money went back a lot further than the Song's. And you- you were the most stunning woman in Eunseok's eyes and because of him, you were stripped of your choice to fall in love. That's why the Song family gave you princess treatment from the second you were able to demand things. 

You had protested until your vocal cords went raw when they found out that they were sending Eunseok to university with you. For years up until you turned 18, you had imagined finally getting away from Eunseok for once, even if just for 3 years. He had always talked about Harvard and with the grades to boot, you thought that you'd finally have an ocean separating you.

It certainly wasn't an easy fight at the airport as you threatened to drop out of university the second that you even stepped foot into the new country. All your father did was bat his eyelashes and give you a heartfelt, "Please, princess? Just do this for us."

The phrase 'just do this for us' nearly knocked you sick nowadays after over 2 decades of hearing it spew out of your father's mouth. Ultimately, yes, you were lucky to have such a loving family that never pushed anything evil or truly despicable onto you. This was the one thing they needed from you. They obliged every want and wish for the trade-off of giving your hand in marriage to the Song's first born son.

In June of your third year of university, a couple months out from your graduation, Eunseok turned up at your door completely drunk.

"What are you doing here?" your arms were crossed tightly, trying to cover as much of yourself as possible as you were clad in the smallest pyjamas for the British summer heat.

He grinned goofily up at you, eyes lazily fluttering open and closed, "Hi, Y/N. I'm drunk." He was leaning against the doorway, nearly making out with the frame.

"I can see that," you sniffed the air and grimaced, "And smell it. But what are you doing here?"

"Can't I visit my lovely fiancée on her 21st birthday?" he batted his long eyelashes sweetly at you, taking one step into the apartment. You gazed at him hesitantly, taking one step back.

"I don't think anyone would appreciate their fiancé turning up on their doorstep piss drunk at 2am," you spat, "If you truly wanted to wish me a happy birthday, you would have left me alone."

"I lost my keys," Eunseok groaned, "I didn't know where else to go."

It should be sweet that out of all the places he could have chosen to go to in the city, he went to yours. Instead, it made you feel angrier.

"Eunseok, stop bothering me," your words contrasted your actions as you pulled him into your apartment and locked the door behind him, "Go sleep in the spare bedroom and leave as soon as you wake up. I'm going out for breakfast with my friends tomorrow so lock the door behind you and keep the key with you 'til you see me next." You pulled the spare key out of the drawer and placed it in his pocket.

Like a pathetic dog, Eunseok followed behind you as you led him through the apartment your parents had bought for you.

"Can I sleep with you?" he murmured.

"In your dreams, Song," you retorted, stopping in front of the spare room door, "Plus, you stink like shit."

"Ah, it's okay," he sighed dreamily, resting his head against the door, "We have the rest of forever to sleep beside each other."

You let out a frustrated screech, shoving his chest, "Can you let me live in peace? Why do you have to keep reminding me?"

"In the hopes that one day the thought of it won't make you sick or angry," he replied, opening the door of the room.

Your strong gaze faltered, "What are you- in love with me?"

"No," Eunseok shook his head, "I could learn to though, if you wanted me to."

"The only thing I want from you is to be far away from me," you ran your hands through your hair to soothe yourself, "And even that you can't do."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Thanks for letting me stay," Eunseok gave up on his tyranny and dropped his voice, "Happy birthday."

You muster up a near half-smile, turning to return to your bed where you'd be tossing and turning until your alarm went off, "Goodnight Eunseok."

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

The worst thing about your arrangement with Eunseok was that it was kept secret.

Of course, it was an open secret in your families and to the company- and there were always rumours about it since you two ended up always together around the world. But it wasn't like it was announced to the world at any point to protect the prospective merger happening when you and Eunseok came of age.

That made relationships very hard indeed. It always had to end in heartbreak, at least for the other person.

The two of you agreed that you could see other people if you wanted to, and you agreed on this the same day you had your very first heartbreak.

"Eunseok, can we talk?" you poked his side to catch his attention. Eunseok was bouncing his basketball up and down while he spoke with his friends just outside the school courts. It had been 2 months since you moved back to Korea after spending 3 years in Switzerland at boarding school, where you quickly became homesick. Eunseok followed you home immediately.

Your fiancé bid his friends goodbye and gave you a sweet smile, "Yeah of course. What's up?"

You led him to the adjacent square that was thankfully deserted and settled just under the bloomed cherry blossom tree in the middle, "Um."

Eunseok giggled at your hesitancy and pushed your hair behind your ear, "What is it?"

16 year old you blushed terrifically at that moment, highlighting your plump cheeks and shining eyes as Eunseok peered down at you.

"I know this is um, pretty stupid," you began, breaking his stare and looking down at your Prada loafers, "Well basically, my friend Jimin- you know Jimin?- she told me to-"

"Just say it, Y/N."

"I like you?"

It came out more of a question as you quirked your eyebrow up at your fiancé.

His eyes went wide, taking in a deep breath, "Y/N. You," he paused, "You like me?"

"Yeah," you exhaled, "Is that so bad? We're going to get married someday."

Eunseok looked around and noticed his friends turning the corner to the courtyard, presumably to look for him, "Look, Y/N, I'm sorry but I thought we were going to, you know, try experience life like how others do and meet people and do whatever we want to until they tell us we need to get married. I didn't think we were obliged to date."

Your eyes began to water and your lips began to quiver as sheer embarrassment sunk into your bones, "So what? You want to date around?"

Eunseok reached out to cup your face but you quickly took a step back, feeling humiliated and slightly bettayed, "I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't know you felt like this towards me. Look, can we talk later? I'll swing by your house after basketball practice, okay?"

From the ages of 0-16, you would say that you and Eunseok were close childhood friends. Even though you had no concept of marriage or love, your parents had forced the two of you to be together through every occasion with weekly play dates and attending the same schools. When you finally understood what being engaged to each other meant at around 12 years old, it made you swoon that you were going to spend the rest of your life with your best friend, who you'd always found endearingly cute. He became more handsome as the years went by and at 16, he was the object of all of your desires.

He was manly, he was protective, he was sporty and most of all, he treated you so well. He would run around town with you no question to go shopping and indulge you in all of your cravings even if you needed to have ice cream at 10pm in the dead of winter. He would take the train with you all around Switzerland to see different lakes and ski resorts. He would help you study in the library and pass you your favourite snacks whenever it seemed you were getting tired. He would give you his jacket on the breezy nights watching the local sports matches.

You were so blinded with your affection towards him that you had convinced yourself that he did those things because he liked you back. Because he wanted to treat his future wife well.

The day Eunseok stamped all over your little heart was the day you waged a one-sided war against him. Eventually, Eunseok began reciprocating your snarky attitude and the rest had been history.

You told your maids and house security to refuse entry to the grounds to Eunseok that night, but because of your parents' unconditional offer to Eunseok to make your house also his home, he had spent a good part of the night on the other side of your bedroom door trying to get you to open it so he could apologise. For a man you were once smitten for, it was easy to put on your headphones and drown him out until he got exhausted and left.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

Eunseok opens the car door for you and offers out his hand. In the darkness of his car, you grimace slightly, but force yourself to take his hand and use your free hand to smooth your dress out as you exit the car. The flashes from the press are blinding and carry on all the way up to the bottom of the staircase leading into the venue your parents had hired for the evening.

You try to keep a pleasant smile on your face as Eunseok passes his keys to the valet men before wrapping his arms around your waist. It comes nearly naturally to him, from all the photos your parents had made you pose together in dating back a decade or two. But it's your first official public appearance together, so the flashes intensify and you're taken aback. Eunseok feels you stumble slightly and begins to lead you along the carpet rolled out up to the stairs.

There's shouting from every direction- asking where your dress was from, asking if you were dating, asking why you were with the 'rival' company's son all the time- nothing new to you. After you traverse up the stairs, the two of you turn around and give a small wave at the cameras. You feel Eunseok drop his head down to yours, so you nestle yourself into him a bit more. How sweet, you thought to yourself, pushing down the urge to throw up at all this fakeness.

"Last chance to run," Eunseok murmurs as the doorman opens the glass doors into the foyer.

"Are you begging me to?" you counter, "Why do you keep insisting I back out?"

"I'm not. I just feel guilty, so I'll make up a solution if you want to stop all of this," he whispers into your ear. To others, it's an endearing moment as you keep your face neutral.

"It is all your fault. You should feel guilty. I'm not doing this for you or your family, but for my family. If this is what they want, then I'll oblige," you nod your head firmly.

While Eunseok's family was definitely benefiting more from the merger, it did come with some advantages for your family too: less competition in the market, combined success superseding the current top conglomerate, and for your parents: the knowledge that their first born child was going to have someone that was born to and raised from a good and rich family- someone that would be able to take care of you no matter what and understand your life in a way no other civilian could.

You know that your parents' argument for you to marry this guy was weak- there were plenty of good, rich guys from other companies- but you had been happy with the arrangement at the start and by the time you were 16 and he was breaking your heart, the companies had already started slowly merging or putting the plans into place. It was honestly a shame to your parents that other than rejecting you, Eunseok really had no faults. He was always polite, always courteous and intelligent enough to take over the conglomerate with you when the time would come.

Eunseok drops his arm from your waist, instead sliding his finger between yours.

"Miss. Y/L/N, Mr. Song," your family's general assistant approaches you in the foyer with a tight smile, "The event is about to begin. Please follow me to the stage. Are your speeches prepared?"

"Mhm," you hum, tugging Eunseok with you behind your assistant, "The rest of the family are here?"

"Yes. They're waiting by the stage," she replies as nerves finally settle into your stomach. You suddenly can't even look at Eunseok anymore as the gravity of the situation clicks into your mind. After this, you were going to be officially engaged in front of the world and you were going to be his bride in no less than a year from now. There was no turning back anymore.

Eunseok has to shoot you a look to stop you shaking on the stage as your father and his begin their speeches about their company, and the new era and blah, blah, blah. You tune them out in order to focus on your breathing and make sure you don't barf the second you step up to the podium. After minutes of nonsense, you feel Eunseok place his hand on the small of your back, signalling you to take to the stand.

"Um," you began, suddenly losing all the lessons you had learned in your public speaking classes growing up, "Thank you all for joining us on this occassion. As my father said, we are transitioning into a new era of our company and as I take on the role of COO, we believe it's important to have good people by your side to support you. While my family and the Songs are joining together in business, we are also joining together in family," you look over at Eunseok, who gives you a reassuring nod, "Song Eunseok and I are to be wed in one year's time. We have been close friends and partners since we were born and I couldn't imagine anyone better suited to be by my side. We can go into this business partnership fully trusting each other and our companies and we would be grateful if you could give us your support. Thank you."

You step away from the podiums as gasps ring through the crowd. The business venture was nearly an open secret in the industry, but your relationship with Eunseok was based on rumours only, having never confirmed it. Now that you have, it would stir up all these new rumours- were you only getting married for the merger? Did you two actually love each other? What about all the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes that had been conniving to get even a bit of your or Eunseok's time to beg for your hand in marriage?

Eunseok takes his place beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist again as your families smile together for the pictures. The engagement party also doubled as a celebration for the merger, so at least all of the spotlight wasn't on you.

You're glad that your friends are here. They're all business heirs too, since like attracted like at your school. Your best friend Minjeong attacks you with a hug the second you step down from the stage.

"Ah, my best friend is getting married," she sighs dreamily into your ear, "You know what, Y/N, at least he's handsome. It's harder to hate someone when they look that good."

"Then you marry him," you chide, half-joking, "The problem has never been his looks. It's the situation."

"He doesn't hate you half as much as you hate him," Minjeong tuts, "And he's in the same situation. He never got a choice either."

You know deep down that she's right, but you're committed to making his life hell until the ends of the earth for breaking your heart. If anyone could say anything about you, it was that you could hold a grudge.

"Whose side are you on?" you prod her arm, but she rolls her eyes and links arms with you to join Eunseok and his friends.

"Happy engagement, lovebirds," Sungchan greets you with two kisses on your cheeks, "So excited to be at your wedding."

"I'm sitting you at the back," you retort, sticking your tongue out. You hated that Eunseok's friends were genuinely nice and funny people. It was so hard to distance yourself from Eunseok when your friendship groups had been deeply intertwined since you all could walk.

"Not when I'm a groomsman, right Eunseok-ie?" Sungchan swings his arm around his friend's shoulder, pulling him close, "Now tell me, who's the best man?"

Eunseok shoves his arm off, "You can just draw straws for it."

"I'll be the best man, hyung," Seunghan grins cheekily, "I'll make sure to give a really good speech, okay?"

"It's almost as if it's a real wedding," you smile bitterly, "Jeong, you'll be my maid of honour right?"

"You have to ask me properly," Minjeong whines, "We're going to do this wedding right, okay? My best friend will only get married once. I'm not letting you let your wedding planner do everything; we've been planning our dream weddings since we were 10 so we'll do it according to that."

"C'mon Y/N," Wonbin bumps his shoulder with yours, "We can make it fun. We know you'd rather not marry hyung, but he had always been the groom in all the weddings you'd plan when you were young. Now it's like a dream come true."

"Yah, Park Wonbin," Eunseok grits his teeth at his friend for bringing up the past. You wince at the reminder as Minjeong slaps his arm.

"Y/N, I think your mother is calling over you and Eunseok to dance," Shotaro calls for you softly, and you turn around to see your mother desperately signalling to you to join her on the dance floor.

"I'll see you guys later," you bid your friends a goodbye as you follow Eunseok into the crowd.

The night crawls by. It's nearly painful as you fake a smile with every passerby and acquaintance who congratulates you for your engagement. It feels like you're getting stabbed in the heart over and over again as everyone coos over how in love the two of you seem and how they always knew you were going to end up together. It crushes you as Eunseok leans down to your ear while you dance, apologising for how this was your life.

You get into his car after the party. The ride home is silent, apart from the noise of the city around you that seeps in even through the rolled up windows. Eunseok won't even dare breathe too loud in fear of making your life even less like what you had dreamed it to be.

He pulls up to your house and you make a quick move to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door in one motion, but Eunseok wraps his hand around your wrist gently, bringing you back down.

"What is it now, Song?" you sigh in frustration, closing your eyes in defeat.

"I know this night has made your hatred for me 10 times worse," Eunseok begins, shuffling in his seat to reach into his inside pocket, "And I know that what we have isn't real to you, but I thought you at least deserved this."

Your eyes flutter open and you look over to him. He uncurls his clenched hand, unveiling a shiny ring in the middle of his palm. You bite back the gasp that bubbles up through your throat, and you reluctantly take the ring between your fingers without looking at him.

It's exactly your dream ring. It's what you imagined the love of your life to propose with when you were younger. It's what you wanted to be someone's physical manifestation of their love and devotion to you. That makes it all the worse when it comes from Eunseok.

"I remembered," Eunseok reads your mind, "When we went ring shopping when we were young for fun because you wanted to make sure I would propose with the right ring. I hope it's still what you want."

You can't bear to look at Eunseok at all, so you clench the ring in your hand and open the door, "Goodnight Eunseok. Thank you. Get home safely."

There's 100 steps between your front door and your bedroom. It takes what's left of your energy to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape prematurely. As soon as your bedroom door clicks shut, you collapse against your floor and break down in tears.

Why did Song Eunseok have to be such a good man? Why did you have to hate him? He was yours now, and that was what younger you wanted all along. Why were you taking it out on him? You had been holding onto a grudge for so long and he had been trying to make amends in private ever since, despite going along with your whole enemies thing for his own fun.

You hated how you knew that Song Eunseok could and would give you the life you wanted. You hated how all you wanted to do was love him like it was your choice and for him to love you back like it was his. But in this world, you were privileged enough to have everything you ever wanted, aside from the choice to love whoever you wanted to.

You hated how you didn't even have a choice in loving someone who didn't love you back.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

You fought with Eunseok nearly every time that you saw him through your university years. You found problems in the way he positioned himself too close to you and problems in the way he would distance himself and act like strangers when you did complain about that. You found problems in the way he didn't talk to other girls despite rejecting you and found problems when he would go on dates after you said that.

In short, Song Eunseok was a problem to you.

Yizhuo was forcing shots into your hands and demanding that you downed them with her as you tried to tune back in to the party going on around you. You couldn't think of anything else the second that Song Eunseok walked through the door arm in arm with some girl.

It was the last party of your undergraduate university days, since exams had finished and you were going to graduate in just a couple of weeks. Someone had rented out some kind of manor in the outskirts of Oxford, dedicated for everyone to stay at and party for a weekend. You knew the organiser through a friend of a friend, but everyone that had been invited was someone you either knew personally or knew of. The spoilt brats community at your university was large, but tight.

You obliged Yizhuo's request and bitterly downed the drink, hissing as it burned through your tracts, "What is this? It tastes disgusting."

"Alcohol isn't made to taste nice," she tutted at you, following your line of sight before sighing, "I guess it's time to get you more so you don't have to be sober looking at that."

Minjeong shook her head on the other side of you, "I can't believe he would bring someone here. He knew you'd be here. So disrespectful."

You saw that Eunseok was about to turn, so you quickly spin away in order to avoid eye contact, "It doesn't matter to me. We're not dating."

"But he's your fiancé," Yizhuo stomped in defiance, "He should have some respect for you."

"Since he didn't want to date me, i'd rather him date other people. Then it just looks like he rejected me because he didn't like me as a person," you affirmed, taking another shot with Minjeong.

"Y/N, please. You were 16 when you confessed and 16 year old boys don't have the most mature outlook on life," Minjeong argued, coughing after the bitter shot, "I'm sure he's not stupid anymore. You grew up hot and he's practically tripping over his own feet trying to chase after you."

"He's not chasing me," you scoffed, "He brought a girl here."

"Oh, you're impossible, Y/N," Yizhuo cried out, beginning to slur, "What do you actually want that poor boy to do? Even I would be confused with the way you act."

Your best friends have been trying to knock sense into you since you turned 18 and Eunseok gave up his dream to study at Harvard to be with you in England. They had claimed that Eunseok realised his feelings for you and wanted to make up for rejecting you. You claimed that if that was his intention, he would have told you that by now instead of pestering you by inserting himself into your new life without reason.

"He can do whatever he wants," you turned your nose up, "I don't care about him."

"Well you better act that way. He's coming," Minjeong warned you, suddenly disappearing with Yizhuo and leaving you stranded with your fiancé walking towards you.

It honestly felt like the grim reaper floating over in slow motion before he came to collect your soul. You fought hard to control the grimace on your face as he stopped in front of you.

"Y/N," he greeted softly, leaning in to give you a hug. You stood still, but you don't push him away. You ignored the way your heart skipped a beat when he pressed his cheek gently against the top of your head.

"Eunseok,"

"How were exams? You're graduating this year, right?" his head is tilted at you, eyes focused into yours.

"Why are you even asking? I'm sure you know my plans for the next 10 years considering you're still following me around," you scoffed, "Does your new girl know you're moving to New York after graduation so you can stalk me while I do my masters?"

"Are you jealous?" he smirked suddenly, gentle demeanour disappearing, "She's just a friend."

"Does she know that? I don't care what you do, Song. I just feel bad for the poor girl whose heart you're going to break when you tell her you're engaged," you feigned nonchalance, pouring yourself another shot, "I guess it's my fault for telling you to have your fun and experience things since apparently you'll be so devoid of love when you get married."

"Y/N," he trailed off, grabbing the soju bottle that had appeared in your hands, "You know it's not like that. I didn't mean it like that when I reject-"

"Save it, Song," you rolled your eyes, "Your girl is coming. Don't go blaming me when time comes to break her heart."

You turned away in time and managed to snatch back your alcohol before arms wrap around Eunseok's and a high pitch voice squeals to him about how she lost him. You find Sungchan somewhere in the crowd and convince him to call you a taxi to take you back into the town where your apartment was. Before he could even confirm the booking, you had already disappeared into the crowd, the shots you had taken truly seeping into your blood and making your head spin.

You don't really remember what happened the rest of that night, but if you try hard enough, you can remember being tucked into a bed on the third floor, big eyes peering down at you as you tossed under the duvet, a hunched figure sat at the end of the bed on the floor and a soft voice singing you to a deep slumber.

˗ˏˋ જ⁀➴ ˎˊ˗

"It's gorgeous, darling," your mother's voice takes you out of the focus mode you're in. The sunlight seeps through the stained glass, illuminating the sunroom at the back of your house. If you look down through the windows, you'd find the garden that your mother has been cultivating for decades. The rose garden with its arches and its vines was where you'd dreamed to get proposed to when you were young.

"You think so?" you showed her the sketch in full, turning the pad, "Do you think it's easy enough to create in real life?"

"We can make anything you want happen," your mother takes a seat in the lounge chair next to yours.

"Can you make Eunseok love me back?" you hum dejectedly, shading in the corset of what would be your wedding dress.

"He does, sweetheart. You just refuse to see it," your mother swiftly utters, and you stop your drawing, clenching the pencil tightly in your fist.

"Why does everyone say that?" you growl, "Everyone but Eunseok."

"Because you act like you hate him. You act like marrying him is the worst thing in the world. You act like there's nothing he could say or do that would bring him back into your favour despite you loving him all these years," your mother is lecturing you now, "He follows your lead, my darling. He will go to the ends of the earth for you and he always has. What more does he have to do for you to accept the way he shows his love? What more can he do to have your forgiveness?"

There's tears welling up in your eyes and your mother takes the drawing pad away from you to examine the dress you had envisioned. She carries on while you chew your lip and fight back the tears.

"You're going to be beautiful in this dress. One year's time will fly by, so make amends with Eunseok by then. Even if you don't go into this marriage as lovers, at least go into it as friends. That will make your life easier."

"I don't want to be friends," you grit out.

"Mhm, you want all or nothing. Why don't you ask him, then? He threw the ball in your court when he asked you if this marriage is what you want. Someone who doesn't love you or care about you wouldn't give you the option to run away to save yourself, you know?" you hate how insightful your mother is as she grabs your left hand, "This ring is beautiful, Y/N. He knows your heart like it's his."

"Cause it is his," you choke as the tears begin falling, "And he stamped all over it 8 years ago."

"He was just a young boy back then. He's followed you all over the world to be by your side ever since. He's sacrificed his own life to make your dreams come true. You have no choice but to marry each other, but he's been making choices to give you the life you wanted," she strokes your hair gently, "Can you give the boy a chance?"

Over the years, your parents had apologised to you for putting you in such a situation. They had told you that if you truly, inside your heart, didn't want to get married to Song Eunseok, they would call the whole thing off. The marriage was a way to ensure the merger wouldn't go awry by putting you and Eunseok as collateral if one side ever did try to betray the other. Tying the two of you together in marriage was a way to prevent either families from ruining the other.

You considered putting a stop to things more times than you could count on your fingers, but selfishly, you would imagine yourself on a rocking chair on a porch, hair grey and skin wrinkly and when you would look over to see who would be on the other chair, Eunseok was the only one you could imagine with you.

"But I've treated him so horribly all these years," you hiccup, trying to stop your crying, "There's no way that Eunseok would love someone like me."

"Because you won't let him," she stands up and places the drawing pad back in your lap, "Y/N, your father and I love you very much and all we want is your happiness. We haven't opposed this marriage despite how hard you've tried to push Eunseok away because we know that if you let him, he would make you truly happy. You're the only person stopping that happiness."

You ponder on her words for a while after she leaves, adding little details to your dress. For someone who was acting like this wedding was going to ruin their life, you sure were investing a lot of your free time into it. Maybe Minjeong had gotten into your head; unless you planned to divorce Eunseok (after the 5 year clause, per the contract), you were only going to get married once, so you should at least do it in your style.

Wonbin was right at your engagement party. You'd been planning your wedding since young. You knew exactly which flowers you wanted to adorn the aisle, which flavour of cake you wanted to eat, which song was going to play while you walked down the aisle, and whose eyes you wanted on you on the other side as you did. Eunseok had always been your dream man- he was your first crush, your first love and your first heartbreak all rolled up into one devastatingly handsome package. You imagined him in his crisp suit, laughing through his tears because you just looked so beautiful, and the thought of that takes you out of your fantasy and back into the room that was filled not with tears of happiness, but of silence.

You look down at the ring. The sun is hitting it perfectly, making the diamond shimmer in the beam. You slide it off and inspect the band for the first time, wondering what size he got since you didn't even know your size. Your heart stops when you first notice it. It's so small that if you blinked at that moment, you probably wouldn't have even noticed it and you would've lived the rest of your life not knowing it was there.

You run your nail against the engraving, your breath hitched as you read it.

To the one I'll always choose.

It's always been about choice. This whole time, it's been about your freedom to choose.

You and Eunseok weren't born with the privilege of choosing the one who was going to love you so hard that it would drive you crazy. You were instead born with a silver spoon in your mouth and a signed contract that because your family was going to have a girl first, that girl would be married to the Song's first born when the time came.

There was no question or argument about it. You grew up beside Eunseok knowing you were going to spend the rest of your life together, so you chose to learn everything about him. You chose to learn that he loved playing basketball with his friends and that he became silly and unserious when around them. You chose to learn that he doted on his much younger baby brother and that he would fight anyone and anything that could bring harm to him. You chose to learn that Eunseok had a soft heart that had its very own soft spot reserved just for you- one that grew bigger after your hatred for him did as well.

While you chose to hate Eunseok for rejecting you, he chose to stick by your side anyways. He chose to join you in Oxford, even if most of his friends went to America to study. He chose to live at the block just down the street from yours, so he could walk behind you to lectures and check that you were okay every day without overwhelming you. He chose to sleep on hard floors and wake up with kinks in his neck because he chose to sing you to sleep while you were drunk and then refused to leave to sleep in a nice bed so he could watch over you and protect you in your state. He chose to take on a job in New York for two years instead of joining his father's company straight out of business school so that you had someone to accompany you on your midnight walks through New York City. He chose to give you the choice to leave if marrying him was truly a burden you couldn't bear, because your happiness was the grand reward of the consequences that he would bear in your place.

When you chose to hate him, Eunseok let love grow in the emptiness that you left behind instead. He would choose you a million times over and over again until the day you'd finally see it. Your hatred for the situation stemmed from the fact that you thought your choices were stripped away in being arranged to marry. You wanted Eunseok to love you not because he had to, but because it was his choice to.

You were too blind by your rage to see that Eunseok had been choosing you over and over again not because of the arrangement, but in spite of it. That was the greatest love of them all.

-

On the next sunny day, Eunseok joins you on the bench in the middle of the rose garden. You'd been sketching up ideas on how you want the aisle to look like. You were thinking light flowers along the bottom with candles dispersed to illuminate it. In your dreams, you'd get married at sunset in a glass pavilion that could hold only your closest friends and families. As the sun started dipping, the candles would take over as the source of light and bathe everyone in a soft, golden glow. In your dreams, the light would reflect onto Eunseok's face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and large, round eyes that were peering down into yours.

"What did you call me over for?" Eunseok sits on his hands and looks around. It's spring time and the garden is at its most vibrant and beautiful.

You hold out your hand in front of you, "I found the engraving on the ring."

Eunseok takes a sharp breath in, "Ah you did?"

"Did you not want me to see it?"

"I had just hoped that whenever you did see it, you would believe it," Eunseok whispered, "It's true, by the way."

"I know," your response has Eunseok turning his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash.

"You do?"

"Mhm. You chose to follow me around the world despite me hating you and you having to give up on your dream schools just so you could try to prove yourself to me. You chose to keep giving me gifts on birthdays when we were abroad since my family often couldn't make it. You always choose me. Why?"

"In part to make amends for the mistake I made when I was young pushing away your feelings like that without thought," Eunseok explained, "But for the most part because I care about you and I want to make the best of a bad situation we're in. I know that no one wants to be in an arranged marriage. I just wanted to show you that I could give you the life you wanted. That you could be happy with me."

Your heart aches at his words as you realise how truly misguided your perception of him was. You had thought that he was following you around to torment you and to remind you that you could never be free, but all this time, he was letting you live your dreams and staying by your side to show that he was supporting you.

"I've treated you so badly over the years and you still want to marry me?" you meet his eyes that have been trained on you since the moment he sat down.

Eunseok giggles and reaches up his warm palm to your cold face, "Hm, your words are harmless Y/N. You've shown your affection to me in other ways; I know you love me."

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, "In your dreams, Song."

"Mhm, actually in your dreams," Eunseok teases, "Considering you've been dreaming about marrying me for 10 years."

"And I don't know why. I must be sick in the head for that. Did you hit me in the head when we were young or something?" you retort, trying to move away from him.

Eunseok lets out a full-bodied laugh that sends butterflies through you instead of the burning rage that usually ensued whenever he was having fun in front of you. He stretched his arm around you behind the bench and pulled you closer to him, "Just admit it, Y/N. Everyone knows you've had a fat crush on me since we were teens and it's only ever grown. There's a very, very fine line between love and hate."

"I still hate you," you grumble, "This doesn't mean anything."

Eunseok drops his head down, pushing your head into his shoulder. Your first instinct is to recoil away and grimace, but Eunseok's grip on your shoulder is tight, so you try to relax in his hold.

"You'll always be my girl, Y/N. You just have to accept that."

You hum and watch the bees buzz around the rose garden, "I've always wanted the whole ordeal- the crushing, the pining, the courting, going on dates, having your firsts, moving in together, proposing how you want. I feel like that was taken away from me before I even knew what they were and even if we do those things, how would I know what's real and what's fake? What you're doing because of me and what you're doing because of the arrangement- that kind of stuff."

Eunseok's heartbeat is slow and strong, "The arrangement only brought us to each other. How can I make you believe that everything I do for you is because I want to?"

"How about we start with when you rejected me and left poor little 16 year old me heartbroken?"

Eunseok scoffs, "Y/N, I was stupid, okay? It was a mistake, I was young and I was too blind to see what was in front of me. You were still special to me back then and I have always cared for you, but I didn't know what I wanted back then. I grew up and haven't looked back since."

"And the girls you brought around at university?"

"Because you were demanding that I dated other people," Eunseok rolls his eyes, thinking about your past explosive arguments about relationships, "I just went on dates here and there, but never anything serious. I always let them know that I couldn't commit, but you know there was a line wrapping around Oxford wanting to date me."

You chuckle at that. Everyone was falling over their feet for the chance to get just a second of Song Eunseok's time, the same way he was doing to you. He was incredibly popular and girls would approach you to ask you to set them up, but you would always growl and send them on their way.

"You were only the most eligible bachelor because you're the son of the third richest family in Korea," you sneer, jokingly.

"And I'm handsome, charming, intelligent and kind," Eunseok lists off his traits on his fingers, "But everyone knows you've always had my heart."

"I don't know if I can believe that."

He shrugs simply beside you, "Doesn't matter. I can show you now."

"What?"

"We can date from now on. I'll show you how I feel. Then in one year's time, you'll be gladly getting married to me instead of having to be dragged up the aisle kicking and screaming by your family," he says it so casually that you question if the shocked reaction you're having is the abnormal one.

"Date?" you splutter out, completely bewildered, pulling away from him, "Us two? Now?"

"Why are you saying it like it's crazy? I basically just confessed to you," Eunseok crosses his arms in front of his chest and tilts his head in confusion, "Are you rejecting me? Is this payback?"

You wave your hand in dismissal, "Yah, you're really confusing me here, Eunseok. I don't know what I'm feeling right now."

He laughs again, and he's glad that he can finally laugh with you for the first time in years. He takes your hand between his and squeezes assuringly, "It's okay. We can figure it out together as we go. Just stay by my side, okay?"

You sigh into the breeze. The air was crisping up as the sky began to illuminate in visions of pink and purple. You look over at Eunseok and the reflection of the sun makes his eyes look iridescent. One thing you've always known about Eunseok is that with him, you felt safe, so you nod and squeeze his hand back, "Yeah."

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The first time you saw Eunseok again after your undergraduate graduation, it was in New York City at the end of summer.

You had spent the entire summer travelling nearly every country in Europe with your friends, while Eunseok was forced to come home and start learning how to actually work in his father's company before he started his role at the New York branch. You were glad to have this summer without him considering the two of you spent your summers together as children and as teens, your friendship groups overlapped so you also had to hang out with him.

There were endless boxes in your apartment since decorating your space was one of your life's great pleasures. The boxes were organised by room and had been shipped out from England at the start of the summer when you moved out. They'd been collecting dust, so all your windows were thrown open in the summer heat to air out the apartment and the dust. Of course you had AC, but there was something about the noise of the city traffic and the hustle and bustle travelling up to your apartment that made you feel like you were truly in the city.

The knock on your door made you groan instantly and you had to suppress the urge of banging your head into the coffee table you were decorating. You took small and slow steps to the front door, but the pattering on the door wasn't letting up.

"Already here to bother me on my first day? It's only been like 3 hours since I got off the plane," you sighed as you came face to face with your dreaded fiancé.

Eunseok rolled his eyes and pushed past your shoulders into your kitchen, "I know you missed me. I brought takeout since you probably haven't eaten and don't have any food yet." Eunseok held up a bag of his favourite Korean food in the city and placed it on your dining table, dishing out the styrofoam boxes.

He arrived in the city a week and a half before you did, moving into the apartment across the hall so he had been able to get himself settled into both his job and his city before you came to rain down terror on him.

"What makes you think I want to eat with you?"

"I bought it, so I'm gonna eat it. Up to you if you wanna starve or not," Eunseok shrugged, already making himself comfy in one of your expensive dining chairs. He took out some plastic cutlery from the bag and began to dig in to the beef bibimbap he had ordered for himself. There was another few boxes of food in the bag, all of which smelling amazing and instantly causing your stomach to grumble.

Sheepishly, you took the seat across from him and scavenged through the food. He had ordered you some tteokbokki and a stew with some rice. Either he knew you too well or it was a lucky guess. For the sake of your heart, you settled on the latter choice.

The two of you ate in silence for a while, not really looking up at each other and just staring passively at your food. Silence was few and far between when it came to you and Eunseok. It was always hushed arguing or full blown insulting between the two of you no matter where you went or how inappropriate it may have seemed to others. You were sure there were rumours that the two of you didn't always get on despite being photographed together so often, but your families' PR teams were experts in mangling all those 'rumours'. 

You broke the silence first, "How's the new job?"

The heir in front of you coughs and looks at you strangely, as if he couldn't believe you would ask him that, "It's... work. Not horrible and met a couple friendly colleagues. Having this job does make me feel so grown up and responsible, though," after the initial shock of you initiating a conversation, Eunseok began blabbering about his new position at his family's company.

"Well then hopefully it makes you more mature," you snide.

Eunseok scoffed, "Trust me, Y/N, when I say that I'm the more mature one out of us. You'll find out what I mean one day."

"If you were mature enough, you'd know to oppose this crazy marriage with me," you turned your head away from him, feeling the anger bubble up again.

"And it's because I'm mature enough that I'm not," he shrugged, "Unlike you, I don't think this marriage will be the worst thing that can happen to me."

"I'm honoured," you retorted, "I don't know why you think that when all I've done is make your life difficult. Why would you think I can't continue for the rest of our lives?"

He smiled coyly at you, pushing a drink that appeared in the bag towards you, "You'll get tired, sweetheart. Then you'll fall in love with me."

You feel sick at how he's all entirely wrong. Despite that, you appreciate how he's always able to diffuse any tension between the two of you even if his words are always cocky and arrogant. z

You don't say anything to him for a long while. When you finished up your food in silence, he packed everything anyway and placed it in the correct bins. Wordlessly, he began to unpack your boxes with you, unwrapping everything bubble wrapped and placing it on the kitchen counters for you to organise. You would have protested this act of service, but he's right- fighting him all the time does get tiring.

In this light from the living room as the sun setting made your apartment glow and burst with light, Eunseok looks radiant. You hope he can't see you admiring him from the next room. It's almost as if you're a normal couple, moving into their first home and starting their new life together. It's a melancholy sight as you ponder the what if's.

He breaks down all of your boxes flat, humming to himself a song that you think you've heard at the end of parties when you'd be sat on someone's bedroom floor just talking or playing cards half-drunk. Eunseok turned his head towards you and you whipped your head away so fast it hurts your neck.

"You still have this?" he held up a mug that instantly flashed you back to 6 years ago. The mug is majority a light pink and wonky in places since you made it yourself from clay. It was a few months process making and painting the mug, but when you were 15 with the biggest crush on him, having a mug brandishing "Y/N + EUNSEOK" on it made you feel giddy inside.

"All my other mugs broke," you lied through your teeth, snatching it from his grip and placing it in a random empty cupboard, "My mother packed it for me when I moved to Oxford."

"Mhm, okay," you could tell he was smirking but you made yourself busy with the plates, "I'm gonna take the boxes down to the recycling. Do you want any more help?"

"I've had enough of you for today," you breathed out. Too much time with him truly drove you crazy, "But thanks."

"Anytime, princess. I'm just across the hall if you need me and I'll get your number whenever you get it set up." he wiped his hands on his jeans and have you that charming smile that made you fall in the first place.

You see him out wordlessly. You don't argue when he turns up the next day demanding for your number in case you ever needed anything from him (or if he wanted to come and bother you). You feign annoyance when one morning he's insisting that he ran out of coffee in his apartment and wanted some of yours. You leave him in your apartment because you were running late to class, but when you get home, you open the cupboard and try not to fall all over again when you see a matching, much lumpier, handmade blue mug that brandished the words "TO FOREVER <3" on it next to yours.

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You're tossing and turning in your seat as Eunseok shakes you gently. He laughs when you groan under your breath as he wakes you up, "Sit up. We're landing soon."

The sleep you got on the flight was long, but you still woke up incredibly tired since you kept getting woken up for meals. You were grateful that you could fly first class with separate seats and beds, otherwise you'd be much more groggy than you already were.

Buckling yourself in the seat next to Eunseok's, you yawn, "Eunseok, what the fuck is an engagement trip?"

"A trip celebrating our engagement, duh," he looks at you like you're stupid, so you shove him as hard as your tired body could muster, "Like a honeymoon but before. Never too many excuses to take a vacation. Plus, we're going to be busy this trip."

You've never taken a vacation with just Eunseok before. Sure, you've lived in three different countries together outside of Korea and gone on a couple of vacations as children and with a large group of friends, but never just the two of you with a purpose.

"I don't understand why our wedding planner couldn't just pick a venue for herself and call it a day. Why must we go all the way to Italy and do it ourselves?" you're up to your neck in work, but you couldn't protest when you found a week blocked off in your calendar by your assistant, telling you it was 'orders from above' AKA your father.

"It was my idea," he confesses with a shrug, "Won't it be nice if we actually like where we're getting married? If we chose it ourselves because we can see ourselves getting married there?"

It feels like your heart is clenching at the insinuations behind his words. He wants to get involved with your wedding planning, like it's a real wedding. You sniff and turn away from him. It is a real wedding, you remind yourself. You were going to get married legally and this wedding was real, no matter the intention behind it. No matter if you loved or hated each other, it was a real wedding.

"Yeah. Everywhere in Italy is nice so at leadt it'll be a good trip," the past couple of months since you've been officially engaged to Eunseok, you've been attempting to be nicer and hold back your retorts. You've made an effort to argue less and he's been trying to get on your good side. You've both been busy with work considering the news of the merger brought a whole new wave of problems, so you've had no time to interrogate his profession to "date" you. Thank gosh, because your heart would not be able to take that.

The plane lands soon enough and before you know it, you're in a private car going to your hotel. You were staying in Milan, but driving around Lake Como and Tuscany to tour the list of potential venues that your wedding planner had come up with. You were definitely going to be exhausted by the end of it.

The drive was relatively silent, just listening to music and looking out of the window, but when you arrive at the hotel, Eunseok opens the car door for you and snakes his arm around your waist as you walk up to the front desk, "Hello. We're checking in to the penthouse suite. For Song?"

The hotel clerk smiles sweetly, handing over your keys swiftly, "All ready for you both, Mr Song. Congratulations on your engagement."

You're spluttering a thank you with flushed cheeks as Eunseok drags you over to the elevator, "You told them?"

"I just wanted the free champagne that I assume will be up there," he grins cheekily and you roll your eyes. As if he couldn't afford it.

You are however delighted to find a small cake beside the bucket of ice cold champagne and you dig into the red velvet goodness as you watch Eunseok open up your suitcases and hang your clothes up in the master bedroom wardrobe meticulously. You're halfway into the cake when he drags his suitcases out of the room.

"Wait, where are you going?" you frown.

Eunseok snickers, "To the other bedroom? Why? Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Oh. I just didn't know there were two rooms." you say sheepishly.

Eunseok stops in his tracks, hand on his suitcase loosening, "So you went into this trip okay with the thought of sleeping with me? If so, I'll stay here with you then."

"No!" you call out, "Just- just shut up and go."

The smirk on his face is smug as he nods and continues his leave, "Alright, sweetheart, but let me know if you get nightmares and want company."

You bear the butter knife at him and he laughs melodically on his way out. You pop the champagne yourself and drown a glass down, hoping you'd be able to make it out the trip unscathed. He's running into the room with a pout after hearing the loud pop of the corkscrew, so you pour the both of you a glass and you clink them together as you chugged them back.

The days pass by similarly. You wake up and have breakfast together before embarking on a sleepy drive to a venue. You have lunch in endless terraces and gardens under the sun, basking in the heat and evaluating the venue you saw that morning. You both ooh and ahh at different venues that all look the same before you find a flaw in it that stops you from making the decision to host one of the most important days of your lives there. Some are too big, some too small, too pretentious, not pretty enough, the flowers aren't the ones you envisioned, the location too secluded or not enough. You always agree on the flaws of the venues and it's the penultimate full day when you make it to the final venue on the list.

"If I don't like this venue then I'm not marrying you," you huff in the car as it pulls up the driveway.

"Who knew wedding venues were so complicated?" Eunseok exhales in frustration, "Should we just get married in Seoul?"

You puff out your lips, "Italy was always my dream, but I was naive to the process."

Eunseok smiles and takes your hand, "I have faith in this one. At least I hope." The commitment he has to giving you your dream wedding despite it all is unwavering.

When you enter the final venue, you think that maybe it was the last on the list for a reason, since you're blown away every step you take through the grounds. The hallways to the main room is ornate and delicate at the same time, with pretty floral paintings wrapping the walls and big windows letting in the golden light. The room where your reception could be held is stunning with murals all over the walls and a dome ceiling that compliments it perfectly. It's neither too big, nor too small and there's little nooks and crannies for guests to nestle themselves in. You could see yourself in the middle, slow dancing with your head on your husband's shoulder.

"This is nice," Eunseok awes, coming up behind you with the grounds manager, "Very pretty."

You nod in agreement and ask to see the gardens, since you always wanted to get married outside in the sun. The manager gushes over the outside while she leads you out and your heart is pounding in anticipation. Eunseok probably guessed how giddy you were, because he joins you by your side and gives you a hopeful look.

"We're here. Most brides start from here and have the aisle straight down to the arch."

She throws open the double doors and you gasp in admiration at the sight in front of you. The stairs going down to the garden seen steep, but grand. You envision that your father could probably help you hobble down to the garden, where it was staged as a wedding venue. There's chairs laid out in rows, decorated in tulle and bows with an aisle adorned in flowers. At the end of the garden, there's an arch with vines wrapped around it and flowers creeping up. From where you were standing, you could see that this garden was actually on a balcony overlooking a lake that seemed to be glowing and sparkling as the slight wind caused some ripples on the surface

"I'll give you two some time to explore?" she proposes, to which Eunseok nods and wraps his hand around your wrist, tugging you down the stairs.

"First impressions?" he's looking around with blown out pupils as the two of you reach the bottom of the stairs and the beginning of the aisle.

"I like this one a lot," you shyly admit, "It's exactly what I imagined."

"I love it as well. Why don't you walk down the aisle and see how you feel. Imagine yourself on the day," he's taking off in front of you, running swiftly to the arch before you could even take a breath and get a word out.

At his antics, you let out a full-belly laugh and straighten out the ivory dress you happened to be wearing. You look down at the slip dress hitting your ankles and think it might be fate you chose to wear this specific dress on this specific day. You look up and find Eunseok suddenly frozen still at the other end, hands intertwined in front of him and his eyes trained solely on you.

When he notices that you meet his eyes, he gives you a gentle smile as he mouths to you, "Come here."

It takes you a few breaths to actually muster up the courage to follow his direction. You think that walking down a straight path shouldn't be such a big deal, but the thought that this could be the very steps you take to marry the same man at the end in less than a year's time strikes your heart.

The aisle is a soft and smooth stone, perfect for walking on in high heels. It's wide enough that a wedding dress wouldn't drag along the sides and knock over the flowers and long enough for anticipation to build as Eunseok gazes down at you from afar.

"Y/N," Eunseok calls over.

You take the first step and your breath catches in your throat. All you can look at is Eunseok now, with his shirt unbuttoned at the first three to expose some chest and his hair falling over his eyes. He keeps fidgeting with his fingers, as if he couldn't stand still and his lips are puckering and stretching as if he had much more to say.

The second step is easier than the first and the third one even more so. By the fifth step, Eunseok is chewing on his bottom lip and you're ridden with anticipation to meet him at the end.

With each step you take down the aisle, you're flashed back to all the crucial moments in your life with Song Eunseok so far.

You were sandbox best friends. You learned to walk together, and then ride bikes with each other. You learned to swim in the same swimming pool that still remained in your garden. You learned to ski and snowboard with each other in the blustery mountains of the alps. You were each other's first heartbreaks when you were teens. You took your first alcoholic drink together with your friends by the Han river, faces flushed red and hearts beating out of your chests at the prospect of getting caught. You got blackout drunk together for the first time during your first week of university. You posed together as you threw your graduation caps up in the air at the end of the three years. You chased each other around New York City, running around in blocks after he snatched your phone from your grasp when you would ignore him. You begrudgingly invited him to ride swan paddle boats with you in every lake and river around the city since he was the only person that would drop everything for you at a moment's notice. You would leave containers of home cooked food outside his doors when you noticed he was getting swamped with work, knowing he had the tendency to either order too much unhealthy takeout or stop eating altogether when busy.

With every step you take to meet Eunseok at the bottom of the aisle, you accept that Eunseok has been with you for every step of your life.

He's an arm's length away when you notice his eyes are glossier than usual. Eunseok refuses to break the stare between the two of you as you arrive in front of him, exactly where you would stand under the arch if you got married at this very space.

"Are you crying?" you whisper, afraid of your own voice.

He chortles and dabs at his eyes, "It's just the wind."

"Mhm," you hum, fighting back the smile threatening to expose your emotions, "What do you think?"

Eunseok takes a bold step towards you and closes the gap between your bodies. He's closer than you've ever had him and you can nearly feel his breath on your skin. It's making you dizzy but all you can do is keep your eyes on him.

"Eunseok," you murmur in a hushed tone.

His head is drifting closer down to yours, forehead nearly touching. If you moved your face even just by a centimetre, your noses would bump and you knew you wouldn't be able to stop yourself.

"Let's get married here," Eunseok nudges his face forwards. You have to stop yourself from pulling back even with the drumming in your chest, "You're going to look so beautiful. You do already."

"I like this place. Our parents would like it here too."

Eunseok's eyes flutter shut as he sighs and shakes his head gently, "No, let's get married here because we want to, not because our parents would like it. Let's get married because we want to."

"Eunseok," his name falls out of your mouth like it's the most sacred word you can say.

His forehead is still pressed against yours, his eyes squeezed tight and his palm comes up to make home on your cheek, "I love you. I always have."

Sincerity drips from his words and you know that this time, it's the real thing. It's the words you'd been dying to hear him say sincerely for a decade. It's the words that underlined every fight and argument you've had as adults. He finally and bravely bares his heart to you for the first time, still considerate as he always had been by giving you the choice to determine what will end up of the two of you.

There's something different about his profession of love after all you'd experienced together. Back then, when you confessed that you liked him, the world would probably say it was just some puppy love- a silly high school crush. Something that would fizzle over and dissolve when you would experience the real hardships of life and what it could throw at you. You think that a late confession carries a profound and heartfelt meaning like no other.

"Seok-"

He cuts you off before you could finish, pulling away from you and causing you to open your eyes, "I don't need an answer yet, Y/N. I just need you to know that I want to be with you. I want to be your boyfriend, your husband, your partner- whatever you want me to be. I want to make you only happy from now on, instead of angry or resentful. I want to be by your side and keep following you around the world. I want everything with you."

You've never felt more sure of anything else in the world when you bounce up on your tiptoes and capture his face between your hands, pressing your lips against his. It feels like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, but at the same time feeling relief as if this was the one thing in the world that could finally relieve you from all the anger and bitterness you had been displaying and trying to internalise for all these years. Deep down, you could never ever hate Song Eunseok, the boy who has had your heart since you were just young.

He's rigid for a split second while he processes your own confession, but he quickly regains enough composure to part his lips and deepen the kiss, moulding your lips to each other's. It's unlike anything he's ever felt before and he finally understood the real pleasure of kissing someone you really love. As he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, Eunseok knows that he could do this for the rest of his life.

"Song Eunseok, I love you too," your eyes are glistening with adoration as you pull away from his kiss, "Let's get married?"

When he finally looks you in the eye at the moment you give yourself back to him, he can't help the tears that finally break free from their barrier. He's laughing as he finally pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your body in desperation of keeping you close to him. You nuzzle deeper into him and he tucks his head into your neck. His body is shaking with the laughter of relief and his heartstrings tug when he feels his shirt dampening at the exact spot where your face laid.

"You're the one I'll always choose to love," he coo's into your ear words that travel straight into your heart, "For the rest of my life, for the rest of yours."

You look down at your hand and breathe deeply as the ring glistens on your finger. The Italian sun makes it shine bright as the symbol of your love. You start thinking of what you want to engrave on the inside of the ring that you want to get him. You start thinking of the dress and suit you'll be wearing at this very spot soon enough. You're dreaming of the house you move into together and of the company you'll spearhead by each other's side. You fantasise over your future kids- the kids you hope will have his eyes and your nose. You yearn for the life you know Eunseok will give you and your heart is finally at peace, knowing it will always be him.

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#eunseok #riize #riize au #eunseok au #song eunseok #riize fic #riize fanfic #riize x reader #eunseok x reader #eunseok fluff #riize fluff #riize angst #riize imagine #riize one shot #riize fic recs #eunseok fic recs #arranged marriage au

[bonafideyapper]

THE TRADER'S DAUGHTER - cooper "the ghoul" howard x female!oc (part 3)

Warnings: weird age gap (Daisy is mid-20s, Cooper is…upwards of 200.); drug use (mentions of weed); mentions of alcohol use; badly written almost-smut; dbf!cooper (and as always, proofread to the best of my ability)

(This part takes place immediately following part 1, expect this series to be present/past/present/past)

part 1 part 2 masterlist

my requests are open!

As Daisy finished locking up the shop for the night, her mind lingered on the ghoul that sat upstairs with her father. Other than the obvious inappropriate thoughts about Cooper, she was looking forward to sitting and listening to his stories again. Forever the storyteller, Cooper could have her hooked for hours. 

Securing the bolts on the door and taking the more valuable items with her upstairs, she met up with the two men in their living space. Coop had made himself comfortable by now, his hat off and sitting on the table as a sign of respect towards his hosts. Daisy took notice of the way his shoulders were tensed despite being in a safe space, coming up with a plan to help him… loosen up. The two men were trapped in a debate about who was the better shot when the girl walked in, and Cooper immediately took the chance to get a second opinion.

“Daisy, settle this debate we’re havin’ here. Your old man is sayin’ that he’s a better shot than I am, what do you think of that?” Cooper leaned back in his seat, the cup of whiskey held loosely in his hand as he trained his eyes on the woman. 

Daisy flashed him a smirk and shrugged as she locked away their cap stash, tucking the key back in a safe space on her person. “Well I dunno, I think Coop’s a pretty good shot, dad.” She came over to the table and grabbed the cup from Cooper’s grasp, finishing the dark liquor in one smooth shot.

“I think I’m the better shot out of the three of us, though.” Daisy winked at Cooper and set the cup back down on the table. 

“Damn, Daze, no vote of confidence for your own father?” Josiah stared at his daughter in fake shock, leaning forward to refill the empty cup for his friend before setting the near-empty bottle back on the table. Josiah had been saving that bottle for a long time, waiting for the right time to open it and celebrate something. Now was as good a time as any, seeing as how Cooper had made his way back to their corner of the universe in one piece. 

Cooper watched the girl take the liquor down like it was nothing, not even the slightest grimace across her face as the burn slid down her throat. He had gotten tougher in the wasteland, but it was becoming clear that she, too, had gone through some things to conform herself to survive the world around her. 

“Nope, I know for a fact I’m better than you, dad.” Daisy grinned as she pulled up a chair to the table, sitting down and reaching for the pack of cigarettes lying on the table. She rolled her own much of the time, and made pretty great money on the side by selling special hand-rolled cigarettes. She had found a dealer that specialized in old-world drugs like marijuana and tobacco, so she took whatever she could get. Daisy put the small stick between her lips and lit a match, holding the flame to the end and inhaling slowly to get the effects of the drug within. 

“When’d you pick that up?” Cooper nudged her arm with his cup, gesturing towards the smoking cigar between her pretty little fingers. “Never picked you to be the smokin’ type, darlin’.” 

Daisy would be lying if that little old nickname didn’t make her stomach ache with want as it slipped from the ghoul’s mouth, pretending like it had no effect on her as she took a drag from the joint. “I dunno, couple years ago I guess? Helps me sleep at night.” She joked, which wasn’t a full lie. Sometimes she smoked to help herself sleep, but a lot of the time she smoked to cope with the reality they lived in. Whatever, made her some extra caps on the side.

The three sat around the table until well into the night, only dissolving when Josiah spoke up and said he was headed to bed. He bid Cooper a goodnight and leaned down to kiss his Daisy on her head before he disappeared into his bedroom. 

Cooper turned his attention to his little flower when he heard Josiah’s door latch shut, a smirk on his face as he watched her. “You’ve grown up a whole lot since the last time I seen you.” He emphasized his words, letting his eyes wander down to her chest again. Oh how he wished he could get her out of that thin tank top and godforsaken jeans, to show her what a real man was like. 

“I guess I have, huh?” Daisy licked her lips as she tapped her second joint out in her ashtray, the motion like second nature to her as she never took her eyes off of the ghoul. 

“Mhmm, I remember you bein’ a chubby little kid, wild as a June bug on a string.” Cooper moved his eyes over her body, smirking at the confused look on her face at the unfamiliar comment. Before she could open her mouth to inquire about the foreign insect, he was leaning into her space, close enough to hear her heartbeat in the quiet room. 

“You’re a mighty fine lookin’ woman, now, little flower.” Cooper moved in to whisper in her ear, noticing how the girl had essentially stopped breathing. He watched as a bead of sweat dripped lower, lower, lower, until it disappeared into the space between her breasts. There was nothing stopping him from reaching out to her, putting his mouth against her smooth, delicate skin and licking the trail of sweat up to her neck. Nothing preventing him from putting his rough hands all over her tanned skin, nothing stopping him from bending her over the table in front of him. 

Nothing except her father, and his closest friend, in the next room. 

Daisy felt her cheeks go scarlet at the closeness of his body to hers, wanting nothing more than to jump the ghoul’s bones. “Come on, Coop, you ain’t even seen me since I was a kid-” she tried to argue, although she was beyond thrilled to find out he was just as attracted to her as she was to him. “Ain’t I a little young for you?” She looked up at him with those big ol’ chocolate eyes of hers, the words hanging in the air between them. 

“Darlin’, I think any woman I meet up here might be a lil’ bit outta my age range.” Cooper snorted as he pulled away before he could really touch her the way he had been craving since the moment he saw her all grown up. He hadn’t been with a woman in a mighty long time, but he felt like he was on the verge of going feral when Daisy laid her eyes on him. He was itchin’ to put his hand on her thigh, wanting to see the way her eyes fluttered closed at the intimate touch. He wanted to slide his hand up her thigh, wanted to brush his fingers over that sweet spot that she’d be begging him to finally touch. 

“You’re like a tall drink o’ water, and sweetheart, I’m just dyin’ of thirst.” Cooper moved back to whisper in her ear, smirking as he trailed his lips over the shell of her ear. 

Daisy wasn’t a virgin, by any means. She had fooled around with many of the teenage boys that had presented themselves to her in her youth, but she hadn’t spent any time with a man since she was in her teens. At this moment, however, she was almost ashamed to admit that her body was reacting as if she had never been touched before. Her thighs clenched together to try and quell the ache between her legs, her hand reaching over to grab his as though she could read his mind while she put his large palm on her leg.

“Ohh, ya want me to touch ya, huh?” Cooper spoke in a hushed tone so as to not alert to her father in the next room what was about to happen. “What happened to you’re too young for me?” He squeezed her thigh with a strong grip, a wide grin coming to his face as he coaxed her thighs open. 

“Coop, I-” Daisy breathlessly whispered, overwhelmed by the man and his voice and his hands. Lord have mercy, his hands, those hands that she had dreamed about touching her in ways that would make angels cry. The hands that had strangled a man to death for threatening her. 

“I want you to touch me.”

a/n: Hello ghoulfuckers! There’s no smut YET but I promise it’s coming. This is the first part I’m posting on my new blog (find part 1 and 2 on my old blog) – Wanted to get something out to make sure people follow here instead of @sixx-sixx-sixx

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

#ren writes #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x oc #fallout imagine #fallout fanfiction #fallout oc #cooper howard x reader #the trader's daughter #dividers by cafekitsune

[gravehags]

give me mercy no more

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader x Cumulus

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: masturbation, voyeurism, panty sniffing, breaking and entering, pussy eating, dick riding, this is starting to read like a rap sheet, unexpected romance, threesome, antichrist reference

Words: 3,790

Summary: He should know better than to pine so desperately after what is not his, but the way you look at him makes it so hard. So he takes action in the only way he knows how.

a/n: being in a throuple with cumulus and cardinal copia would save me, clear my skin, and give me a reason to live. hallelujah. also reference to copia being the antichrist.

~~~

This is Cardinal Copia’s little secret.

He adores you. He’s long admired you, would see you standing in the crowds at his rituals gazing up at him…and also at one of his keyboardists. Cumulus’ new girlfriend that the ghoulette excitedly introduced to him, unaware of his long-standing infatuation. It was fine, he told himself, he was happy for his beloved ghoulette. Seeing her smile made him smile. But the more he watched you two in the dining hall, caught glimpses of the two of you kissing in secluded little areas of the abbey, the more he needed…well, more.  

He cannot believe his luck after charming the keys to your quarters off a maintenance worker and sneaking in while you are at Nihil’s mass and while he is supposed to be in a meeting with Cardinals von Schreck and Bergoglio. No matter, he is head of the Ghost project now, he can do as he pleases. Your room is sizable - not a surprise considering your position as a more senior sister - but even he doesn’t have a closet as spacious as yours. One that would make a perfect little spot for him to kneel and watch you both. He tucks the idea away and focuses - you could come back at any time. It takes a moment of fussing to access the hamper in your absurdly large closet but when he looks down at its contents he smiles wide. Perfetto. Right on top is a mesh thong in cardinal red - almost as if you put it there just for him. His gloved hand is trembling as he reaches down and gently picks it up. With some hesitation, as if the garment is going to burst into flame, he raises the gusset to his nose and inhales deep. The forbidden smell of you floods his brain and he collapses against the doorframe. Frantically he lifts his cassock and fumbles for his button and zipper and by the time he takes himself out he’s already hard and drooling. His body sags against the wood as he smears the pre with his thumb then spits in his hand. 

“Cara mia,” he moans the moment leather meets flesh. His eyes slip shut and his jaw hangs open as he bunches your underwear under his nose with one hand and strokes his cock with the other. He thinks of the generous curve of your hip in those tight black pencil skirts you favor, the way the fabric clings to your belly. Those days when he’d be lucky enough to catch you in the library bending over to pick up a stack of books and he’d have to hurry off to his office to address the tent in his trousers he desperately tried to hide with the drape of his cassock. How you looked in that chilly little alcove the other day pressed up against his ghoulette, her tail wrapped around your thigh as you traced her lips with your tongue. Cumulus almost caught him that time but he darted behind a statue of the Whore of Babylon, quick as one of his rats. There’s a thrill in his heart in that moment however, the fear only further igniting his passions. There’s a sound outside from the hallway, a sibling’s laughter, that causes him to jump and remember where he is. His cock twitches in his firm grip and his mouth is open, drool pooling in his jaw as he looks down and squeezes, imagining it’s your cunt instead. He won’t last long, not with the sweet smell of you driving his fist forward and back at a punishing pace as he moans into the fabric. His eyes dart over to your bed and he imagines you and Cumulus, tangled together kissing lazily, your hands brushing over each other’s curves. What sweet noises his ghoulette could tease out of you with her talented fingers. He’s panting like a dog now, your smell all but overwhelming him and his hips spasm once, twice and he’s cumming in desperate spurts. His spine feels like it’s made out of jell-o as he finally lowers your underwear from his face. Stars bloom behind his eyelids and idly he remembers he’s still fisting his cock. He opens his eyes and sighs at the mess on his glove…and on your closet floor.

“Ah, shit,” he hisses, briefly dropping your most sacred underwear so he can rummage in the hamper for a shirt or a towel or something. When he finds a slightly damp hand towel he’s filled with relief, wiping off his fingers first before tucking himself away and lowering his cassock. As for the floor…eh, it’s wood and you shouldn’t notice once he scrubbed his mess away. In his haste to hide the towel, he almost leaves behind his treasure crumpled on the floor. As he reaches out for it he hesitates for a moment, but the insistent little devil on his shoulder is cooing so sweetly in his ear in your voice. She won’t miss it. She would want you to have it. He’s never been one to say no to the Devil. And if he finds himself fingering the fabric stuffed in his pocket during his delayed meeting…well he certainly will not confess. His prize lasts for a week before the smell of you fades and he’s more than made a mess of the garment after hastily wrapping it around his cock one night while pleasuring himself. It now sits in his hamper - he’ll return it to you after getting it thoroughly cleaned. He briefly considers stealing another pair the next time he’s in your quarters but then he remembers how spacious and cozy your closet was. A perfect little spot to hide.

And watch.

It’s bolder than anything he’s done before but that only makes him more aroused by it. He knows you spend Friday nights with Cumulus in your room and his blood sings at the prospect of witnessing what the two of you get up to when you think you’re alone. He plans his day perfectly - manages to get to your quarters and smuggle himself away in the dark behind your habits, the door open just enough for a generous view of your bed. He’s not wearing his cassock tonight - just his simple black suit - so he has less fabric to fuss around and can get straight to business. When he hears your lock make a click and the door squeaks open, he’s momentarily flooded with fear. What if you opened the closet door and saw him, the de facto leader of the Ministry, crouched on his knees with his cock out? His fist flies to his mouth as he bites down on a moan at the thought, his dick twitching in his pants. He peers out into the room and wonders if either of you heard him, but the two of you are quite preoccupied. He doesn’t know how Cumulus has disrobed you this fast as you work the buttons of her shirt and ease her suspenders off her shoulders. With a playful shove she pushes you onto the bed where you bounce, grinning up at her.

“Bossy tonight, babe,” you coo, scooting your body up the mattress as Cumulus removes her pants and underwear. With a snort she slingshots her bra at your head and you skillfully dodge it with a laugh. His heart aches as he watches the two of you, so carefree and intimate, and for a moment jealousy and sadness flood his veins. The feeling is mercifully brief as he watches you beam at the ghoulette settling between your legs. The two of you are so…so…lovely. His mustache twitches as his lips curl into a smile watching you wind one of Cumulus’ white curls around your finger. Idly the ghoulette leans down and places a gentle series of kisses to your belly before sliding her body lower. When he finally gets a view of the treasure between your spread legs his breath comes out in a shudder. You’re already so wet, your curls glistening as your lover teasingly blows her cool breath over you. Your eyes slide shut and your head tilts back to expose your throat as she lowers her mouth to where her thumbs spread you open and hovers. 

“‘Lus if you don’t–”

“If I don't, what?” she asks airily, placing a cheeky kiss to your mound. She looks up at you and must mouth something that he can’t see or hear because you let out a giggle and tug on your lower lip with your teeth.

“Understood,” you sigh and Cumulus arches her back, giving him a delightful view of her own dripping cunt. 

“Good girl,” she purrs before diving in. He’s so caught up in the moment he realizes he hasn’t even freed his cock from his trousers, and the head is leaking profusely against the fabric. Hastily he pulls himself out and sighs as the blessedly cool air hits his heated flesh. Once in hand he turns his attention back to the two of you and…oh.

Cumulus’ tongue lazily circles your clit as she moans into you. Your head is thrown back, chest flushed as you fist her curls.

“Mmmfuck ‘Lus, yeah right there.”

The whine in your voice makes Copia bump his head on the doorframe in his eagerness to get a better view from his hiding spot. The two of you are all soft, undulating skin as she loudly laps at your cunt, her finger teasing at your entrance. The sheer decadence of the image before him makes his breath come in pants as he once again runs a hand over his throbbing cock. When Cumulus slowly, achingly slowly slides her finger inside you your moan is borderline pornographic. 

“Just like that, baby. One more.”

Obligingly she slides another digit inside you and grins.

“You take me so well, don’t you? Doesn’t she, Cardinal?”

It takes him a second before he drops his dick in shock, it comically bobbing in front of him as his face is flooded with red. He takes a couple deep breaths before once again peering out into your bedroom to see you looking right into his white eye, your head cocked and a teasing smile on your face. Cumulus is propped up on an elbow, also watching him, looking amused.

“Are you going to come out, your Eminence, or shall we drag you out by your ear?”

Something about the way your lips wrap around his hardly used formal title as you gently humiliate him sets him on fire. Fuck it, he thinks as he stands, not even bothering to tuck himself away before opening the closet door and stepping out. Your eyes widen and eyebrows shoot up when you behold him with his hands perched on his hips. Cumulus lets out a low wolf whistle and his stance falters slightly.

“I don’t quite know what to say, Cardinal,” you breathe, reaching down to idly scratch behind Cumulus’ horn. “Other than are you going to put that to use or not?”

“What?” he asks flatly, anticipating a shaming or degradation, hell even being chased out by a feral ghoulette. Said feral ghoulette instead smiles wide at him and gestures to you.

“She asked you a question, Cardinal. Are you,” she rises from her reclined position as she speaks, slowly stepping over to him, “going to stuff my girl full of your pretty, fat cock or are you going to leave her wanting? I don’t recommend it. She’s very vindictive.”

His eyes dart over to you where you coyly grin at him and flutter your eyelashes.

“I…eh…I don’t…”

“You’re going to say no?” you pout exaggeratedly, “After I’ve spent all this time wanting you?”

He can almost hear a record scratch.

“Wanting me?” he hoarsely half-shouts, which makes Cumulus snort loudly. “But you…you and Cumulus…”

“Mmhmm, me and Cumulus,” you nod encouragingly, “and I think there’s room for one more. Wouldn’t you agree, love?”

His ghoulette runs a claw down his arm and he shivers.

“I think I can manage to share,” she grins, “with my Cardinal. After all, he works so hard. And I know you’ve seen the way she watches you during rituals. How could I deny her this?”

“I’m only disappointed he didn’t wear the white suit tonight,” you say mischievously, propping yourself up on an elbow with a wink. “But there’s always next time.”

“Darling, he hasn’t even agreed to this time,” Cumulus chuckles. He looks at her and at you, on the bed. The two of you deliciously bare and you, so eager for him. His head spins and he wonders if too much blood rushing to his cock would knock him out.

“Belle donne,” he finally says, with a little bow, “I am at your service.”

Copia didn’t know where this night was going to end an hour ago but he certainly hadn’t imagined it like this. Cumulus is on him in an instant, much to your glee, stripping him of his clothing. In a flash he’s nude, save for his gloves, and Cumulus kneels before him taking his hand in hers. She looks up at him knowingly before he exhales and gives her a tight nod. Gently she slides the leather off each hand and when she sees the inflamed flesh at the centers of his palms she bows her head in deference before kissing them. You’re on your knees on the bed, watching curiously but you don’t inquire further - just nod your head at him - and he is thankful. 

“Come here, beloved,” you say, outstretching your arms and with Cumulus by his side, he reaches the bed. Just as tenderly as his ghoulette had treated him, you reach up and brush back a piece of errant hair, your thumbs gliding along his cheekbones.

“Huh. I never knew you had so many freckles,” you say with a soft smile, “Cute.”

When your small hand drifts downwards to card through his chest hair you smile even wider at the tattoo on his pectoral.

“Aren’t you full of surprises? A tattoo, a peeping tom…oh and I would like that pair of underwear back, by the way. It is my favorite, after all.”

He has to force himself not to choke in humiliation but in an instant your hand has drifted lower. He’s only half-hard now but the way your fingertips brush against his shaft makes his head fall forward. Slowly, you stroke him to full hardness as he pants into your ear.

“Nice and ready for me, Cardinal,” you murmur, swiping a thumb over the head of him, making his hips buck. He hears Cumulus make a soft noise of appreciation from behind him and he turns his head slightly to see her splayed out in the overstuffed chair in the corner.

“Don’t worry about me,” she smiles as her fingers dance between the curls at the juncture of her thighs, “Focus on her.”

When he turns his gaze back to you, you lean in and nose along his jaw.

“How do you want me?” you whisper, placing a sweet little kiss to his neck. The question makes him throb and he thinks of all the times he’s watched you during mass, during your duties, and the myriad of ways he’s imagined having you.

“Ride me, cara,” he breathes, “I-I want you to ride me.”

He can feel your grin against his throat as you shift to the side and pull him down to the mattress. Cumulus is up in an instant and walks over to the two of you to settle in on the bed with her back against the headboard and her legs spread. She crooks her finger at Copia and he crawls to her before settling in with his head on her belly, breasts tantalizingly close. When she brings her hands to his shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscle, he sighs.

“Good boy, Cardinal,” Cumulus purrs, making his cock twitch. She looks up at you, still perched at the bottom of the bed.

“Come on, honey. Come show us how pretty you’ll look riding his cock.”

You beam at the two of them before shuffling onto your knees and maneuvering your legs to straddle him. When your cunt, still soaked from your earlier activities with Cumulus, brushes the underside of his dick a shiver runs through him.

“Perfezione,” he murmurs, gazing at you adoringly as you slide yourself back and forth against him.

“Mmm and you haven’t even been inside her yet,” Cumulus says, running a clawed hand through his silver streaked hair. When you raise yourself and wrap your fingers around his cock to position him at your entrance, he holds his breath. You look to Cumulus and then to him before slowly - achingly, tortuously slowly - impaling yourself on him. He nearly cums on the spot when he hears the sweet little whimper you let out after taking him to the hilt and feeling the way you stretch around him.

“Copia,” you breathe, uttering his name for the first time that evening. It makes him want to weep. Cumulus chuckles behind him but her voice comes out rougher and lower than usual.

“How does he feel, sweetheart?”

Experimentally, you raise yourself halfway off him and slide back down.

“So good, ‘Lus. Filling me up just right.”

She hums in contentment and then places a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you, Cardinal?”

“She’s p-perfect, like I always imagined her to be. Hot a-and wet and–fuck–tight.”

You close your eyes and smile, lifting yourself off him once more and bringing your hips down with much more force this time. He lets out a broken moan as you repeat the action, setting an eager pace for yourself. You feel his eyes lingering on your face, the bounce of your tits, and the way he disappears inside you.

“Touch me,” you whine, “Please, Copia.”

“C-can I?” He knows his voice is desperate as he cocks his ear towards Cumulus, who lets out a laugh.

“Of course you can, she’s yours too, remember?”

She’s yours too…for the second time that night he almost cums on the spot. His hands shake as he tentatively places them on your thighs. He freezes, too hypnotized by the way your skin feels under his fingertips but Cumulus is watching and reaches to place her hands over his.

“We’ll do it together,” she murmurs against his hair as she guides his hands onto the curve of your hip. Your pace slows slightly as you revel in the way your lovers knead the flesh of your ass, smiling down at Copia. He’s mesmerized as Cumulus places his hands onto the curve of your belly so he can feel the soft skin there before sliding them upwards to palm at your breasts. Your head tips back and you keen beautifully as his thumbs circle your nipples. When Cumulus guides him to pinch, he’s worried that it’s too hard but the way your cunt clenches around him and your mouth falls open says otherwise.

“Bellissima,” he rasps out, “again, please.”

The way your smile scrunches your nose makes his heart sing and you appease him before continuing to slide your hips up and down. Your pace begins to get a little less languorous, a little more frantic and he fucks up into you eagerly.

“Copia,” you pant, thighs clearly burning from the effort, “fuck, Copia, s-so good. ‘Lus he feels so good.”

“I know, sweetheart,” the ghoulette purrs from behind him, eyes hungrily watching your coupling. Copia feels Cumulus slip a hand between his body and her own to rub at her clit and it makes him groan.

“Come on, Cardinal, make her really feel it,” she pants as her fingers dip into her slick. When she takes them out and holds them up to his lips he greedily sucks them in, lapping at the taste of her. His hips jackrabbit upwards, making you throw your head back and cry out.

“Don’t stop, Copia, please, please, please, do–ah!”

In an instant your walls are spasming around him and his breath comes in broken stutters.

“Cum for her, Cardinal,” Cumulus breathes into his ear, her own hand returning to her clit. “Cum for us both.”

“Cara!” he shouts, hips rutting desperately into yours as he fills you up with rope after rope of his seed. At the same time he hears Cumulus moan low and long into his ear as she efficiently brings herself over the edge.

“So good, Copia,” she pants, “so good for us.”

When you collapse against his chest, trying to catch your breath with his cock still inside you he smiles against your hair. Lifting your head you give him a tired smile before gently, sweetly placing your lips against his in a slow kiss. You pull away only for a moment to lean upwards and slot your mouth against Cumulus’, the two of you giggling as your tongues tangle. When you finally pull away, a string of saliva connects the two of you and he raises his hand to wind a finger in it and bring it to his mouth.

“Ragazze mie,” he whispers, “Belle e meravigliose ragazze.”

“Our Cardinal,” you murmur, placing a soft kiss on his tattoo. With some effort you slide off him and he scoots over so you can join him between Cumulus’ legs. 

“So,” you begin conversationally, fingers carding through his chest hair, “is this what you expected when you came here to watch us tonight, you filthy pervert?”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“Eh, truth be told I hadn’t thought further ahead than getting in your closet. How…how long have you both known I…I was…”

“Watching us?” Cumulus supplies, her fingers stroking up and down his arm. “Ages. I knew she wanted you as well the moment I started pursuing her. And, well. I’ve always thought you were handsome, Cardinal. When this opportunity popped up, we couldn’t resist.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree, tilting his chin over to look at you. His lipstick is smudged on your top lip and strands of hair stick to your sweaty forehead. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“The feeling is mutual,” you grin and it dawns on him that he said that statement out loud. “Second only to her.” You give Cumulus a wink and then your eyes travel over her breasts. As he watches you lean upwards and suck along the underside of one before slipping her nipple into your mouth he growls.

“I’m eh. Not quite ready for round two,” he admits after clearing his throat, toying with a strand of your hair.

“Don’t worry, my love,” you smile, “You can watch. You don’t even have to get back in the closet, either.”

#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader x cumulus #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia x female reader x cumulus #cardinal copia #cumulus ghoulette #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

[lorei-writes]

Blessed

William x f!Reader Smut ~1k

Who let the robin out of the cage?

Contents: control, masturbation, corruption, vaginal sex, mirror sex

“William.” Fiery scarlet eyes pierce through you, each a window into the hell of his soul. The devil itself could embrace you. A faithful sinner, you partake in the communion of his hands, the back of his fingers stroking your cheek with sweetly slow diligence. William seizes you by the chin. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, leaves your lipstick just short of being smudged. “Force me out of my hesitation. Just this once. Please.” “Be utterly shameless,” he commands, consumed by the blaze gazing back at him. “Take the lead, my darling robin.”

“You are yet to shed your shame completely? Ha…”

“Will —”

Raining affection washes his name away, a gentle spring mizzle turned summer storm. His lips pressed to yours, William coaxes you to part your mouth, greedy and growing only greedier. The scent of roses envelops you, those long fingers tapping away a crescendoing melody at your spine. You clutch at the lapels of his coat, pull him down by his cravat…

“William.”

Fiery scarlet eyes pierce through you, each a window into the hell of his soul. The devil itself could embrace you. A faithful sinner, you partake in the communion of his hands, the back of his fingers stroking your cheek with sweetly slow diligence. William seizes you by the chin. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, leaves your lipstick just short of being smudged.

“Force me out of my hesitation. Just this once. Please.”

“Be utterly shameless,” he commands, consumed by the blaze gazing back at him. “Take the lead, my darling robin.”

The mattress dips as you push William back. He needn’t order the obvious. But he has, so obey you must, fierce heat raising to your face as your legs straddle his lap, hands cradling his face… for your fingers to slip through his silver moonlight hair and force him to look up. To see you. To admire his tyrannical depravity and your lust, his searing gaze contradicting his blissfully saccharine smile. Selfish, William plays you like an instrument, each touch delivered to your thighs reverberating through your body in harmonic cacophony as your skirt rides up, and up, and up —

Is this a good thing?

Is this a bad thing?

You do not know, but you devour him all the same, your tongue slipping past his lips and sliding against his. Crimson fingernails press into your flesh, thoroughly unimpressed with the dress you still wear. You push his cloak off his shoulders, pull his coat down his arms… Sample him, over and over again, until a field of poppies blooms over his ivory skin, discarded petals marking a path down his neck, his pulse quickening whenever you draw near. You drink him in like sacramental wine. Buttons give in to you, newer and vaster plains being unveiled, there to be shrouded in the intoxicating mist of your breath. Oh, you love it, and you love it when his body quakes as you slide down his toned torso, past his stomach, further down his navel, when you dust affection to the skin at the border of his pants. And you love it when you withdraw.

You are gone, a queen standing tall, proudly staring down her defeated king. Palpable excitement sizzles between the marks you have scattered over him, burning only hotter as you beckon William closer, tempt him, lure him into your snares. Is it the curse…

“Sit.”

… or is it you yourself?

Compelled by your trills, William obeys your orders. Molten desire churning in the pit of your stomach, you shrug the straps of your dress off your shoulders – and yes, red suits you so well, but it is even more beautiful when it adorns the floor of his bedroom. William stares at you in complete adoration, appreciative of your every dimple and mole, every curve, every sweet nook for his kisses to pool inside of. You are free, free to do with him however you may please. You have spread your wings, soared so high, so far away from him… taken a dive, pecked his lips, those devilishly soft and enchanting, poisonous, lips.

Fingers entwined, you lead William away from the bed and towards the armchair. You push him into it, follow in his steps, his engorged need pressing against your back as you make yourself comfortable in his lap. A soft grunt is released; your eyes set on the mirror just a few paces ahead of you, you spread your legs apart. Slowly. Intentionally. Your body needs to be sure he is watching you, that he cannot possibly avert his eyes. Otherwise it would all be for naught.

“William…”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I…” you hesitate. “Give me the command.”

Your eyes lock in the reflection for one painfully long second. Your heart drums, conducted by his smile. “Is that your desire? To be bound?” His whisper wafts by your ear, and like Eve lured by the snake, you give in:

“Yes. It is.”

Scarlet eyes seize you, entrust you with the sin of knowing. “Pleasure yourself for me.”

You cannot resist it.

You do not want to resist it.

You question whether William has even charmed you at all as you watch yourself through half-lidded eyes, your very own hands cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples to then descend to the junction of your legs. You let a finger slip inside to draw out your nectar, add another one… Pump them, in and out, in and out…

“That’s right… That’s a good girl.”

William joins you. You need no further encouragement. Not then. Not when his hands replace yours, when he strokes you so expertly and your tender moans struggle to drown out the irrefutable squelching. Not when you unbuckle his belt, not when you grasp his shaft, stroke it, and not when you let it slide over your slit, wet it with your own desire… sink onto it, all the while watching as it is accepted into your body, filling you so delightfully. The silver mirror does not lie. You move your hips, so mesmerised by your reflections, by the shine of the rings that adorn his fingers as they grasp at your flesh. William caresses your breasts, his touch flowing down your sides. You are blessed. You truly are blessed, you realise, as he begins thrusting into you. Your voice loud and clear, you swear you will give all of yourself to him.

You’ve seen a typo? Please let me know!

Tag List is disabled for suggestive content and smut.

I personally don’t feel comfortable tagging people under the occasional suggestive / smut stories I write. I hope you understand.

@starlitmanor-network

#william rex #ikevil william #ikemen villains william #ikevil #ikemen villains #ikemen series #starlitmanornetwork

[drjholtzmann]

this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way

(season of mists spoilers)

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

It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough. 

He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again. 

“Hob?”

Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.” 

“You were calling for me?”

“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”

Morpheus sends him a withering look. 

“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”

“It was.”

He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. 

“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Great. Fab.”

“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”

“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.

“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”

“What?”

“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”

Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end. 

“So… it is related?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette. 

“Show me?” 

“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned. 

Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”

“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”

“I see.”

“Why are they here?” 

“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”

“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”

“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”

“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”

Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know. 

“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.

“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.” 

“They are causing no harm.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”

“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”

“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”

“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”

Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly. 

“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”

“Precisely.”

“But the boys… aren’t devils?”

“They are not.”

“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”

Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.” 

“You are under no obligations.”

“Oh.” 

“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”

“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.

“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.” 

“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”

“You cannot save them, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.” 

“Says who?”

“The universe. Death, herself.”

Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”

And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile. 

“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”

“Hob.”

“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”

“I have meetings to attend to.”

“That’s not a no.” 

“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”

“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”

“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”

#sandman #dreamling #dead boy detectives #sandman fanfic #my fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #charles and edwin get a cameo lets say #im so excited for the show yall have no idea

[captain-yeet]

The Fine Line

Summary: Requested by @thiccboinbackpack, all is going well until a new recruit into the Volturi tries to stir the pot. All of the coven learns what happens when someone draws even a speck of blood from Felix's mate.

Word count: 800, short and sweet.

Warnings: Violence, explicit language

Author's Note: I love this person for suggesting this to me because YESSSS. I am a 🥰weakling🥰 for some hyper protectiveness.

Executions were a smooth operation for Felix, same shit different day. Some poor sod doomed for damnation by the Volturi get sentenced, he executes them, time to burn the bodies and clean up, repeat.

Now that he had a mate in the castle - a human mate no less - he took extra precautions around the time of sentencing.

"Promise me you will stay right here?"

You'd nodded, humming in agreement. "Don't worry Felix, I'll keep out of trouble."

The trial was mundane. Another vampire thinking that because they're immortal they didn't have to bow down to any rules or laws. The masters give their sentence. A swift twist of the head. Demetri at his side to assist by holding the accused in place, and another successful trial ended.

Everything was in order.

Felix liked order. Needed it.

As he was disposing the body Heidi came careening into the room, all her decor and poise gone. She locked eyes with Felix and he knew that something wasn't right.

"It's Y/N. There was another vampire - I didn't see. I didn't see him slip away from the rest of his coven."

If his heart could still beat it would have frozen. Wasting no time he dashes out of the room, following the trail of Heidi's scent to find his mate. Climbing staircases and numerous hallways the smell of blood made his throat burn.

Her blood.

His mate's precious blood.

Two lower guards had an unknown vampire pinned to the ground, his mate backed into a corner. A single cut on her cheek and a burst lip sent him over the edge; not in hunger, no, but rage.

Taking long strides to where she stood frozen in place, he took her chin gently, making her look at him. "Did he do this to you?"

You nod weekly, eyes wide in shock. Frozen. Like a deer in headlights.

His gentle, soft and caring mate in a state of such fright... It hurt him.

The culprit had to pay.

"Bring him into the throne room."

"Felix, please don't-"

"Darling, it's alright," he soothed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His body felt like a live wire. Electrified. Ready to burst. "Demetrius..."

His friend knew him like the back of his hand. Being around someone for two thousand years will do that to a relationship. By the dark tone in Felix's voice, the blond already knew what was coming. "Just tell me what you need from me, brother "

"Take Y/N to my room. Keep her there until I return."

Felix locked eyes with Demetri. With a curt nod, he scooped up Y/N and whisked her away to safety.

Leaving Felix with the freedom to succumb to his most primal form. A predator whose mate was just harmed by a lesser life form. And like any other predator, the urge to tear apart this pathetic excuse of a vampire's stone flesh piece of piece powered each step he took towards him.

The rogue vampire blanched at the menacing expression Felix wore. "No, wait, stop! I was just hungry, come now. It's just a human-"

The pleas were cut off by a large hand crushing his windpipe. Squeezing so tight a meek squeak was the only sound the vampire could make. Bending down to eye level, pure rage glowed in Felix's eyes. "My human. Mine," he snarled."

The other guards released the rogue vampire. Anyone who knew Felix recognised that glowering stare by a mile off and knew to steer clear of it.

Quicker than the vampire could keep up with, he was spun about and pinned to the ground, arms held behind his head, freeing his throat. Growls filled the room, Felix being driven on by the need to protect. To kill. To destroy. Effortlessly, he tore the arms from the vampire's body, the sound of a cracking boulder echoing in his ears.

Ignoring the vampire's screams, he lifted him off the ground and sunk his teeth into his neck, ripping away stone flesh until the head rolled free of his shoulders. No one hurts my mate and lives.

Y/N was curled up in Felix's bed when he returned. His expression impassive. The rush of the kill coarsing through his long-dead veins. A small half smile lite of her face. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Felix huffed, joining her side in the blink of an eye. "You're only the most precious thing to me in the world."

Y/N snorted. Her eyes shimmered with love and adoration. Crawling to her knees, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "My big protector," she sighed against his skin.

A low, content sound rumbled through Felix's chest. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her body, pulling her close to him. "Always will be."

#twilight saga #volturi #felix volturi #twilight fanfiction #its been a whileeeeeeee

[zanarkandskylines]

『 ♡ 』  fem!reader thinking about her crush...

no pairings used, fill in the thoughts of your favorite man instead. 🔥

I keep these longings locked In lowercase inside a vault

there he was again, walking into the coffee shop without a care in the world. you knew his order by heart - he doesn't even have to tell you before approaching the register.

"thanks doll," he says with a wink, making sure his fingertips brush over your hand as you hand him his coffee. "see ya tomorrow."

infatuation floods into your cheeks while you smile, painting them with a pretty rose flush. your co-workers don't notice when you tighten your legs, hugging your thighs together at an attempt to keep yourself from shaking in anticipation.

the next four hours are a brutal test of strength.

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk

your shoes are barely off when you enter your apartment before you're darting to the bedroom, desperate for release.

it's almost embarrassing how wild this man drives you.

almost.

the coffee shop uniform crumbles next to your bed, hair undone against the pillow while your fingers are rushing to the hem of your panties. you can't help but notice the wet fabric as your pointer finger finds purchase on your clit, a shock of pleasure surging through your system. it's unbearable at first, the bud too sensitive to touch until your free hand cups your breast, tweaking your nipple softly to disperse the lightning bolts coursing through your body.

there's no harm in this sea of lewd thoughts, it's only intoxicating satisfaction.

These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me

he's gorgeous - eyes that illuminate the room and flawless skin with a body to die for. his features are etched into your mind, every curve of his muscles, angle of his jawline, thickness of his fingers...

oh god, his fingers.

you stuff two fingers into your soaked entrance at the thought, imagining that it would only be one of his. wanting to feel how he fills you up with such ease, molding to his burning touch until he moves up to two...maybe three.

you could take it, you're a good girl.

you've heard enough of his voice, the way he enunciates, to vocalize his praise in your mind. that's it princess... so good for me, doll... you open up so well for me... your sighs are so pretty.

the thought of his tongue running along the shell of your ear as he coaxes out your first orgasm has you squirming beneath your own fingers.

If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

sweat has your back sticking to the sheets, the blaze in your abdomen hotter than hell itself. your fingers aren't reaching deep enough, aren't thick enough, to fuel your desire further - you're feeling too empty.

the nightstand wobbles intensely as you rip open the top drawer, favorite toy now in your sticky grip. you kick off your panties and drag the silicone cock down your belly, stopping shy of your drenched mess of a cunt.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?

you wish you possessed unlimited hands - something to stimulate the yearning for touch, turning the daydream unfathomably realistic. extra hands to grip your thighs, dig blunt nails into your hips, push and pull the fake dick in and out of you for hours.

for now, you get creative with the fantasy.

you tap the silicone tip against your swollen clit, mimicking him teasing you before he slips inside of your tight hole.

look how wet you are, baby... just for me.

the moan that falls from your lips is voracious, begging yourself for more.

i suppose i can reward you with my cock after being so patient.

My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name, building up like waves crashing over my grave

the words swirl in your head as your juices coat the toy, the gratifying slurp of your pussy sucking it in to the hilt with no resistance. you clutch the base and begin with a slow, teasing and tantalizing pace, screwing your eyes shut to replace the dildo with the mental image of his dick filling you to the brim.

it's not long before your tempo increases, ferociously fucking yourself while slurring his name, mumbling curses while your release builds. the thread is pulled taut, threatening to snap any moment. your free hand moves back to your puffy clit, harshly pinching around it to push you over the edge.

you ride out your orgasm, continuing to massage your slick covered walls with the toy through the sensation, quivering from the adrenaline. cum drips from your used hole, dribbling down to your ass and staining your sheets.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

blissfully lying in your own mess, you let the dildo slip out of you and sit between your thighs, the sheen of your arousal glistening under the sunlight of your bedroom window.

does he masturbate to the sight of you, too? has he memorized your every curve, the shape of your face, and the silk of your voice? you can't help but picture him sitting in his own bedroom, white knuckling his cock with his pink tip beading with pre-spend to the thought of you - aching for a chance to touch you.

you sigh, wiping the back of your hand across your sweat covered forehead. a surge of guilt begins to settle in-between your trembling thighs...does this define you as an obsessed, lovesick fool?

no. not in the slightest.

it's been a month, there's nothing wrong with fantasizing. you think of it as manifestation, desiring something forbidden until it's graciously presented for you to take.

and one day, you'll take him back to your apartment and into your bedroom, where you can show him just how eager you've been for him.

maybe tomorrow, you'll finally give him your number on his coffee cup.

thank you taylor for another masterpiece of poetic smut to inspire this little drabble ♡

#x reader #fem!reader #x reader smut #reader insert #fem!reader smut #fem reader #x fem!reader #smut #x reader headcanons #☆.rei daydreams #sorry if this is too bakugo kirishima or eren jaeger coded lmao

[sillygoose067]

Over the 7 Seas

Ch. 30

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Author's Note: Chapter 30 ALREADY?!?! It feels like yesterday I started writing this series. For those of you who've followed me every step of this journey so far, I thank you immensely.

Also, this chapter is inspired by a request from @iamapersonwholikesunicorns. So thank you for this idea.

You manage to clear up matters with the rest of the Leclerc family and enjoy a fulfilling dinner, warming up to the brothers and Charlotte. 

All of a sudden, you hear a cry. The baby must have awoken. 

Charlotte’s fork clatters to the plate as she moves to get up. 

“No, no, Charlotte, if it’s alright with you, I can go see to her. I’ve already finished my meal anyway”, you rush out. She looks at you with a grateful expression. 

“Can you please? I haven’t been able to have a good meal in weeks, she always seems to know when I’ve just sat down.”

You nod and slip your hand out of Charles’s to go find the infant. He gives an apprehensive Enzo a smile of reassurance. 

…

As you approach the crying baby, she stops momentarily, not recognizing you as any of the familiar faces of her family. Her eyes are wide and still glazed with unshed tears as you lift her out of the carrier. 

“Hi”, you begin talking to her to engage her. “Aren’t you such a beauty? Why were you crying, sweetheart? Will you help me figure it out? Hmm?”

Her lip wobbles as she can’t seem to grasp the situation, and you frantically search your purse for something that would distract her. You find your keys. You jangle them in front of her, and her eyes light up as she reaches for them. Handing them over to distract her for a bit, you lift her and check for any obvious problems that could have been bothering her. 

Diaper full? Nope. Hungry? Not yet. In need of a burping? Nope. What could it be? You rack your brain for any other possibilities. Then it hits you. Bringing a hand to her forehead and her back, you realize she’d been sweating in her clothes. 

“Oh, you poor baby. Were you feeling warm, sweetheart? Is that what was bothering you? Did Maman dress you up in too many layers?”

You wipe away the tear tracks from her chubby baby cheeks, using the end of your top to collect the unshed tears from the corners of her eyes. You pick her up and she drops your keys, her attention now drawn to your braid. You let her play with your hair as you make your way to the dining room again. 

Peeking your head through the door, you knock on the doorframe to bring attention to yourself. “Hey Charlotte, I think she was overheating– her clothes are soaked through. Can I take them off and get her changed into something else?”

She tells you, yes you can, and that the baby bag is under the lamp in the living room. 

As you turn to go, you catch yourself. “I never asked; What’s her name?”

“Isabelle.”

You smile and hum to yourself. What a beautiful name. 

The Leclerc family’s eyes follow you out of the room, wondering how you’ve managed to handle the situation so well.

Once you’ve left, Charles fills them in on how you’d come to Europe with your friend Marie and her daughter Leila, who had been around the same age as Isabelle when you’d moved to Nice. He also told them about you having a younger sister back in the States. 

As he unpacks all this new information, Pascale covers her mouth with a napkin and smiles to herself. You’d make such an amazing mother. 

…

Down the hall, you were playing with Isabelle, her giggles permeating throughout the house as you held her up and she bounced, standing on her unsteady legs. She was so cute, you had to stop yourself from holding her close and inhaling the still-there baby powder scent she gave off. 

After playing around and babbling and cackling uncontrollably for the past hour, she crawls into your arms and lays her head on your shoulder. You situate her comfortably and hum a lullaby from your childhood to her, rocking back and forth gently while patting her back. 

Charles steps into the room and your eyes meet his as you smile and bring a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet. He nods and makes his way over to the sofa, taking a seat silently. He watches with a flutter in his heart as you handle his niece with such care– It makes him jump to visions of a future with you. He’d always been a family man, but none of his past partners seemed to feel the same way. And then you came along and lit up his life. 

He rests his cheek on his hand as he watches you lull Isabelle to sleep. Lorenzo and Charlotte enter the room just as you get up to place her back in her carrier. 

“Thank you so much Y/n”, whispers Charlotte.

“Of course, I love children and I’m willing to help out anytime you need some.”

Lorenzo comes over and shakes your hand. “It seems I misjudged you greatly. I apologize for treating you so harshly tonight.” He looks over to where Isabelle is resting, love in his gaze. “Isabelle doesn’t take to anyone as easily as she did to you, you know? Not even Charles and Arthur. She seems to be a good judge of character.”

“Yeah, and she gets all of that from me, asshole”, interjects Charlotte.

He kisses her temple affectionately. “Of course she does. She needed to balance out the fact that she has all of her daddy’s charming looks, so she took your personality. Something tells me she’ll be a handful when she’s older…”, retorts playfully, earning him a smack to the chest. 

…

After bidding everyone goodbyes, you and Charles make your way over to his car. Once he gets seated, he shuts the door and rests his head on the headrest with a thump and a sigh. He tilts his head your way. “Chéri, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

You grin shyly. “Once or twice.”

“Well, I love you. And that could not have gone better. I’m so proud of you.”

“You think so? I don’t know… I felt like–”

“Love, I’m telling you, you managed to win them all over without bribes and sweet talk, so yes, that could not have gone better. If anything, you’re stuck with me forever now.”

He brings a kiss to your knuckles, leaning over the armrest to place one on your lips softly. 

“It’s late”. He checks the time. “Do you want to stay over at my place tonight? I can lend you some clothes”. 

You chew your lip, contemplating his offer and weighing your options. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Marie and Leila, but you also didn’t want them to worry about you not turning up. 

“Ok, just– Can I text Marie that I’ll be staying over at yours?” His thumb comes up to caress your cheek, which you lean into instinctually. “You never have to ask Chéri.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #fluff #smut #f1 #formula 1