#Each Step Becomes Elevated | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brunchable · 1 month ago

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𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 [ 3 ]

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Game of Cat and Mouse. Bucky being stubborn as shit. Summary: Things have turned awkward. You and Bucky hasn't spoken with each other for a few days now. But is the much needed space making things better or worse? A/N: Sorry this took so long lmao. My boy got sick and needed my undivided attention my poor baby but he's better now thank god. A/N: I honestly don't know how to top-up the previous parts but shit, I need them to connect to a deeper level first before jumping into full on smut okay? maybe in the next part. The song sums up the whole fic to be honest lol.

You’d become a master at memorizing Bucky’s schedule, knowing exactly when to leave your apartment to avoid any chance of running into him. But lately, it seemed like Bucky had developed the same strategy, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his presence around the building had become increasingly scarce. It was almost as if he was avoiding you instead.

Today, though, you decided to switch things up by taking the stairs. Sure, it was three flights down, but anything was better than the awkward tension of waiting for the elevator and possibly bumping into him. You clung to the faint hope that the odds would work in your favor, that the stairwell would be empty and uneventful.

But as you descended, the sound of footsteps echoed from below, growing louder with every step. Your stomach flipped, an irrational hope bubbling up before you could quash it. Maybe it’s not him, you thought, though deep down, you already knew better.

Rounding the corner, your heart sank and raced all at once. There he was—Bucky, just a few steps below you, pausing mid-step with his hand gripping the railing. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His expression shifted, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by something guarded, his jaw tightening as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh,” you breathed, your voice softer than you’d intended. “Hi.”

His lips pressed into a tight line before he offered a stiff nod. “Hey,” he replied, his voice low, carefully neutral.

You stared at each other for a beat too long, the air between you thick with unsaid words. He looked almost annoyed—not at you, but at the situation, as if running into you had thrown him off his game. And maybe it had, because for the first time, it wasn’t you avoiding him. It was him avoiding you.

“So…taking the stairs now?” His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed a hint of tension, a wall firmly in place.

You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “Yeah, um… decided to switch things up. Exercise, you know.”

He nodded once, his grip tightening briefly on the railing before loosening again. “Right. Exercise.”

Another awkward silence settled over you, the sound of distant voices from above faintly filling the void. You shifted on the step, clutching the railing a little too tightly, your mind scrambling for something to say—something that wouldn’t make things worse. But before you could speak, Bucky cleared his throat and took a step to the side, making way for you to pass.

“Alright,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll… see you around.”

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, hesitating for a moment before you stepped past him. “See you.”

As you descended the stairs, your pulse pounded in your ears, each step feeling heavier than the last. You risked a glance back, only to find him already climbing upward, his shoulders tense, his head down. The image lingered in your mind, the sight of him retreating, the weight of his silence pressing down on you like a stone.

You reached the bottom landing, gripping the railing as you let out a slow breath. Part of you wanted to turn around, to call after him. But the words stayed stuck in your throat, tangled up with your own doubts and fears.

If he didn’t want to talk, you wouldn’t force him. But that didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to bear.

× × × ×

You arrived at work, your mood sour and your thoughts tangled up in that awkward encounter with Bucky on the stairs. The usual morning chatter of the office greeted you. Trying to focus, you went to your desk, arranging your things in a futile attempt to bring some order to your day.

But then you heard them—Trish and Amy, huddled at the corner near the coffee machine, voices low but still clear enough to reach you.

“I just don’t get it,” Trish was saying. “It’s been days, and there’s still no new uploads from SergeantBarnes. Maybe he’s got a new project or something?”

“Or maybe he’s seeing someone?” Amy added with a conspiratorial tone. “I mean, think about it. He’s been off the grid lately. That’s got ‘new fling’ written all over it.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to block out their conversation. It was the last thing you wanted to hear today, and every word just stoked the frustration simmering inside you. You took a deep breath, attempting to rein in your annoyance, but they just kept going, their words grating at you.

“Honestly, it’s like he’s gone quiet for no reason,” Trish went on, sounding genuinely disappointed. “What am I supposed to watch while I’m waiting for Dan to finish his gaming marathons?”

“Is that all you two talk about?”

You couldn’t help it; something inside you snapped. Before you knew it, you turned around, your voice sharper than you intended.

Both Trish and Amy blinked in surprise, their expressions shifting from confusion to embarrassment. You continued, unable to stop yourself now that you’d started.

“You both have partners, for crying out loud. Do you really need to spend every second gossiping about some guy online?”

They exchanged glances, clearly taken aback. “Jeez, sorry,” Trish muttered, looking both defensive and a little hurt. “We didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“It is when we’re supposed to be working,” you replied, more irritated than you’d intended. “Maybe keep the fan talk out of the office? Or, I don’t know, find a hobby that doesn’t involve obsessing over someone else’s life?”

Silence fell as they looked at you, wide-eyed and a bit stunned. Realizing how harsh you’d sounded, you took a step back, immediately feeling a pang of regret. But the frustration from this morning was still fresh, and you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize just yet. Instead, you turned back to your desk, jaw clenched, hoping the tension in the office would dissipate as the day went on.

At the end of your shift, the weight of the day felt heavier than usual. The tension with Bucky hung over you like a cloud, lingering in your thoughts despite your best efforts to shake it off. It shouldn’t even be this deep—so why were you so affected? It’s just a casual thing, you reasoned with yourself. We’re barely even… whatever this is.

Yet, no matter how many times you told yourself to move on, the thought of Bucky—the way he’d looked at you, the frustration and hurt in his eyes—gnawed at you. You found yourself mentally bargaining, trying to find some middle ground, some way to keep your guard up but let him in a little, too. Maybe if I didn’t overthink it… if I just let it be whatever it is, I wouldn’t feel this way.

As you gathered your things, ready to head out, Trish and Amy approached with hesitant smiles.

“Hey, you okay?” Trish asked gently, her earlier excitement replaced with genuine concern.

You managed a small, apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry about this morning,” you said, glancing between them. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you both. Just… a rough few days.”

They nodded in understanding, exchanging a quick look before Trish turned back to you.

“No worries, but hey, if there’s something bothering you… maybe we can help? What do you say to grabbing some dinner with us? We can talk or not talk about it?”

Amy’s face lit up as she chimed in. “Yeah! You shouldn’t have to stew over whatever it is alone. Come on, let us treat you to some comfort food.”

Their unexpected warmth and support tugged at something in you, and you felt the weight on your shoulders ease just a little.

With a small smile, you nodded. “Sure, that sounds nice. Thanks, guys.”

They grinned, and without missing a beat, each linked an arm through yours on either side, leading you toward the door as if they were determined to help you shake off every ounce of stress you’d been carrying. As you walked together, their chatter filled the air, and you let yourself settle into the easy companionship, hoping that maybe tonight would give you the reset you needed.

× × × ×

Across town, Bucky was pouring everything he had into the punching bag in front of him, each hit landing with a force that reverberated through his whole body. The gym was nearly empty, giving him the space to unload, each punch fueled by the frustration and confusion that had been building inside him for days. His jaw was clenched, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he moved, his muscles tense and coiled with pent-up energy. The sharp sound of his fists colliding with the bag echoed through the room, filling the silence as he worked to dump every complicated thought he’d been grappling with.

He had no reason to be as affected as he was, but the whole situation with you had hit him harder than he expected. He’d thought he could brush it off, ignore the strange ache that crept up every time he thought about your last conversation, but it stuck with him.

After a final, powerful jab, Bucky took a step back, breathing heavily as he let his hands drop to his sides. His mind was still a storm of thoughts, the adrenaline from his workout doing little to clear his head.

When he wasn’t working off steam in the gym, Bucky’s day-to-day was far less chaotic than most people would assume. As an automotive engineer at Ford, he spent hours each day under the hood, designing, testing, and refining high-performance engines. His focus had always been on innovation, on precision, on building something that could withstand any test. It was work he loved—real work, with real meaning, where every bolt and every part had a purpose.

The other job, his work in front of the camera, was different. It was an outlet, a separate side of himself he’d chosen to explore. People saw it for what it was on the surface, but it never felt like the core of who he was. You, however, had somehow managed to blur the lines between the two worlds in a way that left him unsteady. And for the first time, he found himself wondering if keeping his other job had been the right one.

The memory of your face—surprised, hesitant, almost wounded—came rushing back to him, making his chest tighten with something more complicated than he was prepared to face.

Why did it matter so much? She’s just my neighbor, he thought.

He sighed, pressing his gloved fists to his forehead as he tried to shake off the ache that had settled there. For now, all he could do was keep hitting, keep moving, hoping that maybe, at some point, the weight of it would finally start to lighten.

Later that evening, Bucky found himself in his kitchen, mindlessly stirring a pot on the stove. The rhythmic motion and steady bubbling should have been enough to distract him, but his thoughts kept drifting—inevitably back to you.

He remembered the first time you’d crossed paths in the building, how you’d barely glanced at him as you carried a pile of boxes through the hallway. It had amused him, how determined you were to act unaffected, especially after that sudden recognition flashed in your eyes. That little double-take when you realized who he was had been priceless. He’d leaned into that reaction ever since, throwing little teases and comments just to see your reaction, to see the way your cheeks would flush or how your gaze would flit away, only to sneak back.

There was something refreshing about the way you seemed to care so little about the reputation attached to him—so different from others he’d met. And maybe that was why he couldn’t resist teasing you, why he went out of his way to bump into you, to throw in a bit of banter just to see if he could make you smile or throw him a comeback.

But he never expected it to go beyond that. He didn’t expect that somewhere along the line, those little interactions would turn into something he looked forward to. And now, somehow, it had gotten tangled up with feelings he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

Bucky stirred the pot a little too vigorously, and a few drops splashed over the edge, hissing as they hit the stovetop. His hand stilled as he sighed, feeling the frustration bubble up all over again. This is my fault, he thought, jaw clenching slightly. I shouldn’t have come onto her too strong.

He hadn’t realized he was stirring so absentmindedly until the pot suddenly began to overflow, the liquid spilling over the edge and sizzling against the hot burner. With a muttered curse, he quickly grabbed a towel, lifting the pot off the heat and wiping up the mess, the sharp smell of burnt food pulling him out of his thoughts.

As he turned off the stove, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to make things right with you.

× × × ×

After a long day, you found yourself standing outside Bucky’s door, nerves twisting in your stomach. Just apologize, you told yourself, trying to gather the courage. Get it over with and clear the air. But as you stared at the door, words rehearsed in your mind, you found yourself hesitating. You’d been standing there so long that you’d lost track of time, each second stretching as you cycled through a list of possible things to say, none of which seemed quite right.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock when a light, feminine laugh floated through the door, catching you off guard. You froze, your hand mid-air, as the laughter was followed by a familiar deep chuckle. Bucky’s.

"Alright, alright,” you heard him say, sounding more relaxed than you’d ever heard him with you. There was a warmth in his voice that sent a pang through your chest, the kind that came from comfort, closeness.

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you didn’t miss me,” the woman teased, her tone playful and affectionate. “I know you. You’re never this nice to anyone else.”

You swallowed, something tightening in your chest as you listened.

"Alright, guilty," Bucky’s voice softened, almost shy. "Guess you’ve always been a bit of a soft spot."

Your heart twisted, her words and his response echoing in your mind, each line pulling you deeper into a sense of unease. Soft spot? Nice to her in a way he wasn’t with anyone else?

Your mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion, and your cheeks heated as your throat tightened. You felt silly for standing there now, silly for even considering coming over to apologize. What were am I doing? Of course he's with someone.

Just then, you heard footsteps approaching the door, and panic flared. You turned, bolting toward your own apartment, fumbling with your keys as you heard Bucky’s door open behind you. Just as you managed to close your door, you caught a glimpse of him glancing down the hall, his gaze lingering on your door with a curious look.

Bucky’s sister, Becca, caught him glancing toward your door, she raised an eyebrow, nudging him with a knowing smile.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, a touch of teasing in her voice. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky gave his head a quick shake, trying to dismiss the worry that had settled there.

“Yeah, yeah… it’s nothing. Just thought I saw something,” he replied, though his gaze lingered a moment longer on your door before he finally turned back to Becca.

She didn’t look convinced. Folding her arms, she tilted her head, giving him a look that only an older sister could manage—the kind that saw right through any attempt to hide.

“Are you sure? You’ve seemed a little off tonight, Bucky. I don’t think it’s nothing.”

Bucky held up his hands defensively, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips as he tried to brush her off.

“Nothing! Really, it’s nothing. Now go home, seriously,” he insisted, ushering her toward the elevator with a slight push.

Becca rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it for a second.

“Right. Nothing,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she gave him a knowing look. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered, a bit more forcefully this time, though he couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Go on before you start reading my palm or something.”

Becca laughed, throwing her hands up in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” she said as she stepped into the elevator, though she gave him one last pointed look as the doors began to close. “But, Bucky? maybe figure out what you want before you drive yourself crazy over it.”

With that, the doors shut, leaving Bucky standing in the quiet hallway, he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he glanced back toward your door.

Later that night, Bucky found himself slumped on his couch, phone in hand as he stared at the search bar. He let out a huff, rolling his eyes at himself as he typed: signs you’re into someone.

The results loaded quickly, and he clicked the first article, skimming the list with a mixture of skepticism and, admittedly, nervous anticipation.

Sign #1: You can’t stop thinking about them.

He paused, frowning at the screen. “Okay, that’s… kind of obvious,” he muttered, mentally ticking off that box with a begrudging sigh.

Sign #2: You go out of your way to see them.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at his phone, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“That one’s just stupid. I mean, we live in the same building. I don’t go out of my—” He paused, remembering all the times he’d “accidentally” found himself in the hallway when you’d get back from work, or when he’d gone to the laundry room at oddly specific times. “Okay, fine. Maybe sometimes.”

He kept scrolling, and the list grew more absurd—do you get jealous when they talk about other people? Do you go out of your way to impress them? By the end of it, he’d mentally checked off nearly every box, his expression morphing into a blend of reluctant acceptance and amusement.

Bucky sighed, tossing his phone onto the couch beside him.

“What am I, sixteen?” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. Here he was, a grown man, looking up articles about crushes and ticking off boxes like he needed some random website to validate what he already knew.

But as he sat there, he realized it wasn’t the checklist itself—it was the fact that, for the first time in a long time, he felt like this. Like he actually cared about where things went, enough to drive him to ridiculous measures for some kind of clarity.

With a sigh, he leaned back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of realization settling in. Bucky stared at the ceiling for a few more moments, letting out a deep sigh before grabbing his phone again and pulling up his contacts. Scrolling down to “Steve,” he hesitated for a beat before tapping the call button.

It rang twice before his friend picked up with a cheerful, “Yellow?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, smiling anyway. “Hey, punk.”

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice was light, clearly amused. “What’s up? It’s been a while since you called just to say ‘hi.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I… actually had a question. Kind of. For… a friend.”

“Oh, a ‘friend,’ huh? Sure, I’m listening.” Steve chuckled on the other end, and Bucky could practically hear the grin in his voice.

Bucky cleared his throat, leaning back into the couch.

“Right. So, uh, hypothetically speaking… how do you know if, you know, if you’re into someone? Like, in a way that’s… not just friendly?” His words tumbled out, each one feeling more absurd than the last.

“Your ‘friend’ wants to know how to tell if they’ve got a crush, huh? Didn’t realize we were back in high school, Buck.” Steve snorted, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Bucky sighed, feeling his face heat up. “Look, if you’re gonna be annoying, I’ll just—”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry,” Steve said quickly, though he was still chuckling. “Okay, seriously. Well… I guess if your ‘friend’ can’t stop thinking about her, or if he finds himself looking for reasons to be around her, that’s usually a sign. Or if he’s, you know, protective, feels that weird jealousy thing… you know how it goes.”

Bucky was silent for a second, swallowing as he mentally ticked off each of Steve’s points. “Right. Yeah. Hypothetically, that makes sense,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“And,” Steve continued, now sounding suspiciously entertained, “if your ‘friend’ is calling up his actual best friend in the middle of the night to figure it out… well, that might be a bit of a giveaway, too.”

Bucky groaned, falling back into the couch with a scowl. “Alright, alright, I get it. Thanks, Steve.”

But Steve wasn’t finished. “Hey, Buck? If you’re asking for yourself—which we both know you are—maybe just tell her how you feel. You’re not as subtle as you think, and if she’s worth this much thought… she’s probably worth the risk, too.”

Bucky was quiet, swallowing the mix of nerves and excitement that Steve’s words stirred up. “…Yeah. Thanks, pal.”

× × × ×

The next morning, you were practically sprinting down the hall, head ducked and heart racing, when you heard him call out, “Hey! Y/N—wait up!”

You didn’t dare look back, only quickened your steps, praying he’d let it go. But his footsteps grew closer, and just as you reached the lobby, you felt a hand gently graze your shoulder.

With an awkward yelp, you dodged sideways, almost colliding with a potted plant as you called over your shoulder, “Sorry, Bucky—gotta go! Late for work!”

You bolted through the doors, ignoring the bewildered look he gave you as you disappeared into the morning rush.

You turned off your phone completely, just to avoid the constant notifications. His messages had started out simple—Hey, can we talk?—but quickly escalated. Each ding had become a taunt, a reminder that, even though he seemed persistent, there was no other reason to face him now. You left your phone off for nearly a full day, and by the time you turned it back on, there were over a dozen missed calls and messages waiting for you, each one a pinch of guilt you tried to ignore.

And just when you thought you’d mastered the art of dodging, fate had other plans.

Untik one bleary-eyed morning, as you rushed out of your apartment with a coffee in one hand and your bag slipping off the other shoulder, you came face-to-face with Bucky at the end of the hallway. There was no escape route this time; he was standing right in your path, his arms folded and an expression somewhere between concerned and utterly frustrated.

You tried to step to the left, but he mirrored you, stepping right into your path.

You shifted right, and he stepped left, blocking you again.

You both paused, sizing each other up. Then, in unison, you both moved left, only to collide shoulders. You exhaled in frustration, darting to the right, but he sidestepped with you again.

“Bucky, please,” you groaned, your patience wearing thin, feeling the minutes tick closer to being late. “I have to go.”

His eyes softened just a little, but he didn’t budge. “Not until you stop running away from me. Can we just talk?”

You scowled, giving him one last sidestep to the left, only to be blocked again. With a frustrated sigh, you finally did the only thing left: you placed both hands on his chest and gave him a firm push, slipping past him before he could react.

“I’m late,” you muttered, not looking back as you all but jogged down the hallway, leaving Bucky in the wake of your retreat, his gaze following you with an expression that told you he wasn’t giving up. Hell no.

× × × ×

Until one day, when you were in the middle of work, a receptionist from the ground floor called up to tell you that someone wanted to see you. Curiosity and irritation flared as you made your way down, a frown already forming on your face. And the second you spotted him—standing in the lobby, arms crossed, looking as frustrated as you’d ever seen him—you felt your heart drop.

You turned on your heel, muttering to yourself, “Unbelievable…” But before you could make it far, he called out.

“Y/N!” His voice echoed across the lobby, and you turned back with a glare.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bucky?” you hissed, stepping closer so your conversation stayed private, though part of you just wanted to get him out of the building before anyone noticed.

His jaw was set, his gaze determined. “Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Nothing should have happened between us. Let’s just… leave it at that.”

He frowned, visibly taken aback by your bluntness.

“How can you say that?” he demanded, his voice low but intense.

Your throat tightened, but you held your ground.

“I need to get back to work,” you said, not meeting his eyes. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you once again.

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly. “I’ll wait right here until you clock out if that’s what it takes. We’re going to talk, Y/N.”

You groaned, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Bucky, go home.”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he took a seat in one of the lobby chairs, crossing his arms and settling in as if he were prepared to stay all night. Despite the receptionist’s raised eyebrows and curious glances from passing employees, Bucky stayed put, a stubborn expression on his face that only grew more determined with each hour that passed.

Throughout the afternoon, you tried to focus on your work, but every so often, curiosity and frustration got the better of you. By mid-afternoon, you found yourself messaging the receptionist, unable to resist asking, “Is he still there?”

The reply was quick and confirmed what you feared: “He hasn’t moved. Just sitting there, staring at his phone.”

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt despite yourself. “Could you… maybe offer him a drink or something? He’s not going to leave, is he?”

The receptionist’s response was amused. “Already tried. Said he’s fine, but he appreciates it.”

The next day, he was there again, seated in the same chair, his arms crossed and his expression set like stone. This time, he came prepared—there was coffee waiting on the front desk with your name on it. When Trish and Amy teased you about the mysterious admirer, you convinced them to sneak out the back exit with you after work.

The day after that, he stepped it up. Roses. A beautiful arrangement of vibrant blooms appeared on your desk, the receptionist delivering them with a knowing smile. Your coworkers were relentless, whispering about your "secret boyfriend" and giving you sly grins every time they passed your desk. Again, you dodged them and Bucky, slipping out the back exit before he could catch you.

But no matter how much you avoided him, Bucky didn’t give up. Each morning, he was there, as stubborn as a mule—or more appropriately, as stubborn as Bucky Barnes. His persistence was unwavering, his resolve impossible to break.

Finally, on the fourth day, the receptionist herself came up to your floor, pulling you aside with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.

“Y/N,” she began, her tone friendly but firm, “you’ve got to talk to him.”

Your stomach twisted as you glanced at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection.

“Your man. He’s down there again. Same chair, same determined look. And he’s got flowers. Again.” She folded her arms, her expression softening slightly. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he’s been here every day for the past four days. He’s polite, patient, doesn’t bother anyone, but... it’s obvious he’s waiting for you.”

Your cheeks burned, and you felt the weight of her words settle over you. “He’s not my—”

“Y/N.” She cut you off, giving you a pointed look. “Just talk to him. If for no other reason than to put him out of his misery. I’ve worked here for five years, and I’ve never seen anyone that persistent. Trust me, most guys wouldn’t even wait an hour.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “He’s... complicated.”

The receptionist chuckled, shaking her head. “Aren’t they all? But the way he’s sitting down there, looking like a kicked puppy one minute and a stubborn bulldog the next? That’s not complicated. That’s someone who cares.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Don’t let something good slip away just because it’s messy.”

Her words lingered long after she walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway, your heart thundering in your chest. You peeked toward the elevator, debating whether you could sneak out through the back again. But deep down, you knew she was right.

Bucky was waiting. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your things, bracing yourself for what was bound to be another conversation you weren’t sure you were ready for.

× × × ×

You stepped into the lobby, your pulse quickened. There he was, sitting exactly where he’d planted himself hours ago, looking a little rumpled, maybe even tired, but every bit as determined as ever. His gaze lifted the moment you appeared, and for a second, his whole expression softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat. Relief, warmth, maybe even something more—it was all there, clear as day, and somehow it made this moment feel… different.

Bucky rose, a small, boyish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he approached. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, letting the silence between you speak. The noise of the lobby faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a quiet, invisible bubble.

You forced yourself to stay steady, trying to keep the upper hand. Arms crossed, you raised an eyebrow at him. “So… you camped out here all day?”

His smile turned a little sheepish, but there was no hint of apology in his tone.

“Told you I’d wait. Figured you’d come down eventually.” He took a half-step closer, his voice soft and warm, laced with that casual mischief that made it impossible not to smile.

You rolled your eyes, biting back the smile creeping up. “Could’ve just… I don’t know, texted? Called? Like a normal person?”

He tilted his head, his grin widening just enough to make your heart trip over itself.

“I tried that, remember? Didn’t seem to work on you.” He shrugged, completely unfazed. “So I figured I’d go old-school. Sometimes persistence pays off.”

“Persistence,” you muttered, pretending to sound exasperated. “You mean showing up uninvited?”

Before Bucky could answer, the unmistakable chatter of Trish and Amy echoed from the elevator behind you. Your heart jumped into your throat. Oh no. Absolutely not.

Without thinking, you stepped closer to Bucky, practically pressing yourself against him as you yanked your bag off your shoulder and lifted it up like a makeshift shield to block both of your faces.

Bucky froze, his body stiffening at your sudden proximity, but his expression quickly shifted to pure amusement. His lips twitched as he looked down at you, your bag wobbling precariously on the side of your faces.

“Um… what are you doing?” he whispered, his breath brushing against your forehead.

“Shhh!” you hissed, tilting the bag slightly to peek over it. Trish and Amy were slowly walking toward the front doors, their voices growing louder. “Just… don’t move. They can’t see me with you.”

“And why’s that?” Bucky asked, his voice low and teasing, though he didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned down a fraction, his face hovering closer to yours. “Afraid they’ll get the wrong idea?”

“No, I’m afraid they’ll get the right idea,” you snapped under your breath, glaring up at him.

His eyes sparkled, and his grin widened. “Oh, really? And what idea would that be, sweetheart?”

“Bucky,” you warned, the heat rising in your cheeks as you tilted your bag higher, completely covering his smirking face.

But Bucky didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he seemed more amused, his gaze dropping to your face like you were the most fascinating thing he laid eyes upon. His voice softened, the teasing edge replaced by something warmer.

“You know, you’re really bad at hiding.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

He chuckled, his chest vibrating lightly against you. “Not gonna lie, this might be the highlight of my day. You, using me as a human shield. Very flattering.”

“Oh shut up,” you whispered, but your voice wavered, betraying the way your pulse was racing.

Trish and Amy finally passed by, oblivious to the two of you tucked against the corner. You let out a breath of relief, slowly lowering your bag. But before you could step away, you realized how close you were—Bucky’s face mere inches from yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

His voice dropped, soft and almost reverent. “You can hide from them all you want. But you can’t keep hiding from me, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare back at him, caught in the pull of his gaze. The noise of the lobby faded again, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

“I told you,” he murmured, his tone steady but impossibly gentle. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

You tried to ignore the thrill of butterflies that his words sparked. “Like I said, there’s nothing to talk about, Bucky. We should just keep our distance from each other okay?”

He took a steadying breath, his brows drawing together, his voice losing that playful edge.

“How can you just decide that?” he asked, his tone almost pleading. “You don’t even know…”

You shifted, heart pounding. “Because I know you’re already seeing someone else. I don’t need to be another complication in your life.”

He blinked, visibly taken aback. And then, just as quickly, his face softened, an incredulous, almost disbelieving laugh escaping him.

“Seeing someone else? Where did you get that idea?”

Heat crept up your cheeks as you tried to hold your ground. “I—I heard her, okay? When I was at your door the other day. The laughing, the… the way you sounded with her…” You bit your lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“Oh.”

He let out another breathy laugh, shaking his head as if you’d just told him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“Y/N… that wasn’t a date. She’s not—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of exasperation and utter amusement. “She’s my sister.”

Your mouth dropped open, the realization hitting you like a freight train. “… what?”

“Yeah, my sister, Becca. She was just in town visiting.” He gave you a look of pure, amused disbelief, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “God, you really thought I was seeing someone?”

“Well, what else was I supposed to think?” you muttered, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Bucky’s smile softened, and he took another step closer, until there was hardly any space between you.

“You should’ve just asked,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “Instead of. . . I don’t know? Avoiding me like the plague?”

You tried to summon a retort, but your heart was racing, your thoughts jumbled by his proximity and the way his gaze seemed to hold you captive.

Bucky chuckled, the sound soft and full of affection as he reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“All this because of a misunderstanding?” His voice was low, his hand lingering, fingers brushing against your cheek. “I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out why you’re dead set on ignoring me.”

You managed to look up at him, heart pounding as you searched his eyes, suddenly feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“So… you’re not seeing anyone?”

“There’s only one person I want to see,” he murmured, his hand dropping from your face and now brushing against your arm. “And I thought I’m making that pretty clear?”

Your mouth opened and closed then opened again, “Okay. . .”

“Okay. . .” Bucky chuckles and steps back, “Shall we. . . restart?”

A flicker of surprise crossed your face, and a warmth bloomed in your chest at his invitation. You’d spent so many days tangled in your own assumptions, convinced things between you were over before they even began, and here he was, offering an olive branch with that disarming smile.

“Restart?” you echoed, your heart skipping a beat as you met his gaze.

He nodded, his expression softening even more. “Yeah.”

You gave him a small, hesitant smile, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. “Yeah… I think I’d like that.”

Bucky’s grin widened, relief and something warmer sparking in his eyes. “Great. Let’s go home?”

“U-Uh, sure.”

× × × ×

The streets were alive with the hum of the city—cars rushing by, distant chatter from groups of people, and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. But despite the liveliness around you, there was an unspoken tension in the air.

You noticed the way women’s heads turned as you passed, their gazes lingering a little too long on Bucky. It didn’t help that he looked effortlessly handsome, his casual outfit somehow drawing more attention than it should have. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, but another part couldn’t blame them.

Bucky didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. His focus remained on you, his stride matching yours, though there was a slight hesitation in his step.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured, glancing up at him as you adjusted the bouquet in your arms.

He let out a soft hum, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Just thinking,” he said, his voice low.

“About?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly before he finally spoke. “About that night.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you instinctively looked away, focusing on the ground ahead of you.

“I thought we weren’t going to bring that up,” you said softly, your voice tinged with both unease and curiosity.

“We have to talk about it eventually,” he replied, his tone steady but gentle. “I don’t like leaving things unresolved, Y/N.”

When you finally reached the corner of your block, you slowed your steps. Bucky noticed, his own pace matching yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The two of you moved to the quieter steps of your building, sitting side by side. The soft hum of the city buzzed around you, but it felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely. Your bag rested on your lap, your face soft under the streetlights, but the tension in the air was anything but light.

Bucky broke the silence first, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I’ve been wanting to say this for a while,” he started, his voice low but steady. “That night… I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself.”

You blinked, turning to him in surprise. “Mad at yourself?”

He nodded, his jaw clenching for a moment before he continued. “Yeah. I thought I’d scared you off, made you feel like I wasn’t taking you seriously. The last thing I ever wanted was for you to think I was just… using you.”

Your fingers tightened around the bouquet, the ache in his voice tugging at something deep in your chest.

“Bucky, it wasn’t just about you,” you admitted quietly. “It was me, too. I panicked. I wasn’t sure if I could handle…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Handle what your life looks like.”

His head tilted slightly, his blue eyes softening as he looked at you. “Because of my job,” he said gently, not as a question, but a statement.

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“It’s hard, Bucky. I hear my coworkers talking about you—about SergeantBarnes—all the time. They don’t know it’s you, but it’s constant. They treat you like… like you’re this fantasy, this unattainable thing. And it’s not just them. It’s everyone who sees you online, who only knows that part of you.”

He stayed silent, letting your words settle, his gaze never leaving your face.

“And then there’s me,” you continued, your voice wavering slightly. “I don’t want to be another name on a list or someone who gets overshadowed by… by the version of you that everyone else thinks they know.”

Bucky leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees as he turned his head to look at you. The streetlights cast a soft glow over his face, highlighting the sincerity in his expression.

“I get that,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “And I hate that you feel that way. But Y/N, you’re not another name on a list to me. You’re not someone who gets lost in all of that… noise.”

You held his gaze, the weight of his words settling in your chest. His patience today, his persistence—it wasn’t the action of someone who saw you as fleeting or inconsequential. It was the effort of someone who cared, deeply.

Bucky sighed softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I’ve kept my work and personal life separate for a reason. It’s always been easier to compartmentalize, to keep everything from bleeding into each other. But now? Now I realize that I didn’t think about what would happen if someone—if you—became significant to me.”

Your chest tightened, his words chipping away at the insecurities you’d been holding onto. “Bucky…”

Bucky turned toward you fully, his blue eyes locking onto yours, raw and unguarded in a way that made your heart ache.

“If I told you that I want to spend every day and night with you—not just because I like you, but because you’ve become the one constant person I can’t stop thinking about. If I told you that you’re my sanity when the world feels like chaos, my laughter, my desire, my comfort, my day and my night, my cold and heat—If I told you that, would you think that translates to only wanting you as ‘one of my girls’?”

Your breath caught, the raw honesty in his words shaking you. “Bucky…”

“I know my job makes things messy,” he continued, his voice quieter now, like he was almost ashamed. “But I get it—I get why it’s hard for you. I hate that it’s something that puts distance between us.”

He looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “If I could go back and change things, I would. I’d do whatever it takes to make this easier for you.”

Your throat tightened, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to speak.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to change who you are for me,” you said softly.

“It’s not about changing who I am,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s about making sure I don’t lose something.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, his hands fidgeting as he leaned back against the step, staring up at the night sky for a moment before turning his gaze back to you.

“I’m gonna be really honest with you, Y/N,” he started, his voice low, hesitant. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do about the… other stuff yet. It’s not as simple as just walking away. I’ve got contracts, commitments—it’s not something I can just drop overnight.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you nodded, appreciating his honesty even as the knot in your stomach grew.

"And that means... what exactly?" you asked, even though deep down, you already knew.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he let out an exasperated chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Do you really want me to say it? Do I have to say it?”

You didn’t flinch this time, your voice cutting through the tension with unsettling clarity. “It means you have to keep having sex with other porn stars… right?”

Bucky winced at the bluntness of your question, the words hitting him harder than he expected. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the ground as he wrestled with what felt like shame.

You sighed heavily, pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead as you shut your eyes tightly. Your mind was spinning, your emotions tangled in a knot you couldn’t untie. Out of all the men that could catch your interest, why did it have to be him?

“You are the most complicated guy I’ve ever met,” you said, letting out a short, humorless laugh that carried no amusement, only exhaustion. “Oh my gosh, I honestly don’t even know—” You paused, your voice faltering as you opened your eyes and looked at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “How would you make it easier for me, Bucky? How?”

Bucky swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his lips parted, his gaze flickering over your face. He was clearly thinking, his mind working furiously to find a solution, any solution.

"Do you… not like the idea of me with other women?" he asked tentatively, his tone cautious.

You snorted, narrowing your eyes at him. "That’s a stupid question, Bucky."

"Just say yes or no," he pressed, his gaze intent.

"Yes, I do not like the idea," you snapped, your tone sharp with irritation. "But I can’t prevent it, can I?"

Bucky took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he stared at you. Then, his next words came out carefully, almost testing the waters.

“What if. . .you do it with me?”

Your eyes widened, disbelief flooding your expression as his suggestion hung in the air.

Slowly, a startled laugh escaped your lips.

"Are you joking? You’re out of your mind if you think I’d showcase my body to the world like that!"

"I’m not saying you have to," he said quickly, his hands raising defensively. "I just thought… maybe it’d feel different. Less like I’m with strangers. Maybe it’d feel like I’m with you."

"Bucky," you said, your voice heavy with disbelief, "that’s not a solution. That’s… whatever that is, it’s insane."

His shoulders sagged slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the roots in frustration.

“I know it sounds insane,” he muttered, his tone rough. “But I’m trying to find a way to make this work. To make this easier for you.”

You shook your head, letting out a long breath. You stared at Bucky, your frustration and disbelief simmering just beneath the surface.

“Me… doing that with you? Just so I can handle this better?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know. But I hate the thought of you being upset every time I have to perform. And yeah, maybe it’s a selfish thought, but if it were with you… at least it’d feel real. Like it means something.”

You bit your lip, his words tugging at something inside you. But the idea of putting yourself in front of a camera, of having your body displayed for the world—it made your stomach churn. "Bucky, that’s not… I don’t know if I could ever do that. It’s not me. It’s not what I want people to see of me."

He nodded slowly, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I get that," he said softly. "But if it’s the only way to make this easier for you… I just thought—"

"You thought what?" you interrupted, cutting him off. "That I’d suddenly be okay with the idea of putting my body out there for millions of people to see? That I’d somehow be okay sharing you like that, even if it’s just on-screen?"

Bucky flinched at your tone, his jaw tightening. "I don’t want you to share me. I don’t want any of this to be a problem for us. But you don’t trust that I’m serious about you, and I’m just trying to find a way to show you."

You let out a shaky breath, your thoughts spinning. He wasn’t wrong—it was hard to trust, hard to believe that someone with a job like his could be serious about anyone, let alone you. But his suggestion… it wasn’t the answer. Was it?

For a moment, you considered something that had never crossed your mind before. The idea was ludicrous, insane even, but it lingered in the back of your thoughts like a whisper. Your lips parted hesitantly, the words tasting strange on your tongue as you said them.

"If I agreed… hypothetically," you started, your voice faltering slightly, "would I… would I have to show my face?"

Bucky blinked, taken aback by your question. For a moment, his expression softened, a mix of relief and regret washing over his face.

“It’s only a suggestion. . . you don’t have to do this, if you’re uncomfortable." he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I just… I threw it out there because I’m desperate to find a way to make this work.”

You exhaled, shaking your head.

“I don’t know. But the thought of you with someone else… it makes me sick. And now I feel like I’m stuck, like there’s no winning in this situation.”

Bucky studied you for a long moment, his blue eyes filled with understanding. You could see him weighing his next words carefully, as if they could tip the balance in either direction.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft yet steady. “You know what? Forget I said any of that,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s too much for tonight. For both of us.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. “Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, shaking his head. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to feel like this has to be some big, impossible decision right now. We’re both exhausted from this conversation, and I don’t want to mess it up any more than I already have.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, a mix of relief and guilt swirling in your chest. He was giving you an out, a way to step back from the overwhelming weight of it all, and you weren’t sure whether to thank him or cry.

“How about this,” Bucky said, leaning forward slightly, his tone softer now. “Let’s just… hit pause for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll do something normal. Something simple. Let’s go on a date—no heavy talks, no complicated feelings. Just us.”

Your eyes searched his, finding nothing but sincerity in his gaze. It wasn’t an easy fix, and it wouldn’t erase the doubts or the fears that still lingered between you. But it was a step forward, a way to reconnect without the weight of everything else pressing down on you both.

“A date?” you asked, your lips twitching into a hesitant smile.

“Yeah,” he said, his smile growing a little. “Somewhere fun, somewhere we can just… breathe. No drama, no cameras, just you and me.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You make it sound so easy.”

Bucky’s grin widened, and he shrugged, a teasing glint in his eye. “That’s because it can be. We don’t have to solve everything at once, Y/N. We just have to take it one step at a time.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension in your chest loosen ever so slightly.

“Alright,”you said, your voice steadying. “Tomorrow, we’ll go on a date.”

Bucky’s smile was warm and genuine, and for a moment, the weight of the evening lifted.

"Awesome," he said, standing up and offering you his hand. "Now, let me walk you up. Can’t let you carry bag on your own."

You laughed softly, taking his hand as he helped you to your feet. As the two of you walked back into your building, the night air seemed a little lighter. Although at the back of your thought, a question lingers. Should you agree to his suggestion?

tags: @bohoooitsme @barnescamboy @strangefunthornqueen @mayusenpai666 @seven0714

@rabbitrabbit12321 @alexsl-universe @xunquish-blog @hzdhrtss @winchestert101

@alyana-luvs-u @itsbuckysworld @eternalwinters @am-3-thyst @vaneyvfs

@mochiclouds @yesiamthatwierd @skywalker0809 @19jammmy @quinquinquincy

@morganlolitta @openup-yourmind @urbanleftovers @fallout-girl219 @awenita

@red22wolf @lostboys1987girl @tenmaabnesti @elloredef @daddylorianisastateofmind

@leighta @formulas-bitch @waywardhunter95 @cereal6666 @gg-trini

@ohdrey89 @theboysfanficmaker @clintsupremacy @whatislovevavy @okeypoteto

@lilynotdilly @byunleedy @mrsalexstan @jamesbarneswife @chiseplushie

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omgeto · 1 year ago

Text

☆ WHEN YOU BREAK UP AND MAKE UP — NANAMI KENTO

summary: fed up with your stagnant marriage, you serve your husband divorce papers as a final cry to show you're tired of his behaviour. but you forget that, although he doesn't always show it, your husband never goes down without a fight.

w/c: 3.5k

cw: angst to fluff, nanami may come across as an asshole but he means it with love, plot with a dash of porn at the end, so mdni!!, semi-public sex (you fuck in an elevator) afab!reader

authors note: first fic on the new blog (wild) but I actually really fw this fic, hope you all do to. not fully proof read so ignore mistakes!!

nanami's footsteps echo through the dimly lit hallway as he approaches your apartment. his heart pounds against his ribs, a mixture of irritation, confusion, and hurt swirling within him. he had seen the divorce papers, his name scrawled across the top in bold letters, and the shock has left him simmering with resentment.

with a determined exhale, he raises his hand and knocks on your door. the door swings open, revealing his surprised expression. his eyes widen as he takes in your clenched jaw and the tension etched into your features.

"kento," your voice wavers, a mix of surprise and something he can't quite place.

"i didn't expect to find divorce papers on my desk at work," he bites out, his tone sharp and impatient.

your cheeks flush slightly, your gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet his stare. "it got your attention, didn't it?" you retort, your voice tinged with exasperation.

"attention?" nanami's voice drips with sarcasm. "you think serving me divorce papers at my job is the way to solve our problems?"

"you've been distant, nanami," your voice holds a trace of weariness. "we've been living separate lives for weeks. i needed you to know that something has to change."

nanami's irritation flares, his patience wearing thin. "dropping divorce papers on my desk is your way of communication now?"

"you've brushed me off every time i've tried to talk," your voice holds a hint of frustration, your eyes betraying a simmering anger. "maybe this is the only language you'll understand."

nanami's annoyance collides with a stubborn resistance, his grip on his emotions hardening. "you know i've been busy," he states curtly.

"busy ignoring me," your voice is edged with bitterness, your expression growing weary.

nanami's frustration deepens, and he steps closer, his gaze unwavering. "you could have talked to me."

you look away, your jaw clenched. "tried that." he reaches out to you but you brush him off, backing out of his space.

you didn’t know what the exact turning point of your marriage was, but once it came it was overwhelming, swept you both up in a whirl of frustration. nanami didn’t feel like yours anymore – he was a shell of the guy you married. there were no more morning kisses, gentle touches, or late-night talks that once filled your lives. the silence in your shared space became a chasm, widening with each passing day. you pleaded for his attention, for a connection, but it was as if he was slipping away, becoming a stranger.

"you’ve taken this game of yours too far," he scoffs, disbelief and a hint of frustration in his voice. nanami had never imagined it would come to this – the thought of you leaving him was a reality he was struggling to accept. he wasn't blind to the shifts in your relationship, the growing distance, but he had convinced himself that it was a phase. a bad period that could be smoothed out with a little time and patience.

when you gathered your belongings and walked away, nearly a month ago now, he allowed you to go, certain that this was just a phase, a moment of frustration that would pass.

"i thought we were just going through a rough patch," he continues, his voice carrying a self-assured edge. "didn't think you'd take it to this extreme. you really tried to embarrass me at work with that shit, everybody saw y’know, my colleagues, my boss.”

your eyes narrow at his response, the frustration that had simmered inside you starting to boil over. "It's not a game, nanami. this isn't some ploy for attention."

“so you’ve given up on me then? on us?” he asks incredulously, stepping closer to you, studying your face.

your gaze holds his, determination mixing with the hurt that still lingers. "i didn't want to give up, but i can't keep holding on to something that's slipping away."

nanami's eyes search yours, a moment of vulnerability flickering across his features before he masks it with his trademark confidence. "you think i'll just let you go that easily?"

you meet his gaze head-on, the tension between you palpable. "it's not about whether you'll 'let' me. it's about whether we're both willing to put in the effort to fix what's broken."

his smirk fades, his gaze intense as he studies you. "and? are you willing?"

nanami didn’t realise how silent his home was without you in it. when he returned, he sat in silence, the weight of your ultimatum sinking in. ‘it’s not a game nanami’ your previous words repeatedly echo through his mind. he had always prided himself on his rationality, on his ability to see things logically, but when it came to you, it was an unfamiliar territory,

he had grown accustomed to the routine of his life, the predictable patterns that had lulled him into a sense of complacency. he had convinced himself that the distance between you two would eventually close on its own. and now, confronted with the reality of your departure, he couldn't deny the truth any longer.

“you’ve really fucked this up nanamin,” gojo lectures over the phone to nanami, “you deserved getting embarrassed at your job.”

“i didn’t call you to be told off,” nanami says, pinching his nose “i called for you to tell me what to do.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” gojo questions, “you know what she wants.”

“If i did, i wouldn’t be on the phone with you, would i?” nanami snaps, frustration brewing.

“she wants the guy she married.” gojo states, ignoring nanami’s tone.

“I am that guy,” there was a pause, as if nanami could see gojo’s pointed look through the phone, “well i thought i was that guy. but i know she doesn’t want to divorce me for real, she loves me.”

“does she though?” gojo questions, “remember nanamin, i was there when you guys got married, the way she looked at you then… isn’t how she looks at you now.”

nanami ends the call abruptly, pacing around his living room. gojo’s words sticking in his mind. he had reached out to his friend seeking guidance, but it’s becoming evident that the answers he’s seeking might not be as straightforward as he had hoped.

gojo’s words struck a nerve, he was right. nanami remembers the early days of your relationship, the excitement, the adoration - the way your eyes would light up when you looked at him. but now, the distance, the hurt, it was evident.

he was going to make things right, he had to. you were his wife - his soulmate. he’s known that from the day he laid eyes on you, and he doesn’t want to let you out of his grasp.

it had been months since you served nanami the divorce papers – he was stalling. you couldn’t deny that he was trying though, the daily flowers that you received, the take out that was delivered to your house without you asking, was a testament to that.

you got daily calls, texts and emails from him asking you about your day, about your wellbeing. he was showing you that he cared, and it was as if he was courting you all over again.

his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, your friends and family could see the subtle smiles you couldn’t suppress and the softening of your eyes when his name was mentioned. they hoped for your sake that nanami would keep consistent.

you felt hopeful, and that made you feel dumb.

but you just needed one more push to feel secure, to feel like this would work – would last. which is why you were standing in the lobby of your lawyers office, your feet tapping nervously against the floor as you wait for your husband to arrive.

“hi, my love,” he greets, the familiar pet name coming out like a whisper, but it doesn’t go unnoticed, “i guess we should head up there.”

“yeah, lead the way,” you say, your tone warmer than you expect as you take in his appearance. he was dressed in one of his signature crisp suits, in fact it was your favourite suit of his, and he was wearing the hell out of it.

you follow him to the elevator, the hallway stretching ahead as you both walk side by side. you haven’t felt like this in a long time, like a pair, a union. nanami’s presence beside you is both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the life you once shared and the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

“we don’t have to go this meeting you know,” nanami forces out, but you ignore him pushing the button of the floor you need to be at.

“love listen, it doesn’t have to be this way,” he persists.

“and what way is it kento?” you argue, “just because you’ve been sending me flowers, and asking me how i am each day, doesn’t mean you’ve magically became husband material again.”

“trust me, i know that.” he scoffs, “you’re a real piece of work bu-”

“and you’re a real piece of sh-” you start, stopping yourself as you realise that you were the one going too far.

“as i was saying,” he continues, “you’re a real piece of work, but you’re worth it. you always have been, from the moment i met you i knew you were going to cause me trouble but i ended up loving you for that.”

“well tell that to your actions for the past–” you pause, feeling the elevator coming to an abrupt stop, “why did the elevator just close… the last thing i need right now is to be trapped.”

nanami's gaze shifts to the control panel, his eyebrows furrowing. "looks like we're stuck."

you glance at him, your heart racing for a different reason now. "stuck?"

nanami's eyes meet yours, his smirk undeniably playful. "Seems like fate has its own plans for us," he remarks, his tone holding a hint of amusement.

you roll your eyes, unable to suppress a small smile despite the circumstances. "great, just what I needed today."

he chuckles, his fingers expertly unbuttoning his cuffs as he begins to roll up his sleeves. "well, at least we have some time to ourselves. might as well make the most of it."

your eyebrows raise at his nonchalant attitude, your surprise momentarily replacing the irritation. "are you serious right now? we're stuck in an elevator, and you're acting like it's a casual evening at home?"

nanami's grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "why not? it's not like we can do much about the situation. might as well enjoy each other's company."

you huff out a breath, torn between annoyance and amusement. as you observe him making himself comfortable on the elevator floor, you can't help but shake your head. "you're unbelievable."

he pats the spot next to him, his inviting gesture a silent challenge. "come on, it's not so bad. we can reminisce about old times, or argue about who's the better cook."

you find yourself hesitating, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. with a resigned sigh, you take a seat beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "old times, huh? you mean the days when you used to bring me breakfast in bed?"

nanami's smile softens, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. "yeah, and you'd always complain that the eggs were overcooked."

“because they always were.” you retort, with a chuckle. you missed this, being in his space without any of the extra noise.

“i can cook breakfast for you again,” he proposes, “if you just come home.”

“kento i don’t know if i-”

“do you remember our first date,” he interrupts, “my car broke down on the way home from the restaurant, so i put you on my back and carried you for 5 miles.”

“you carried my heels too,” you add, laughing softly to yourself at the memory. your first date with nanami solidified that he was the man for you, the way he shamelessly gave you a piggy back ride, heels and all.

nanami’s gaze locks with yours, his fingers gently grazing your hand “it was worth every step.”

a warmth spreads through your chest, a mix of nostalgia and a newfound vulnerability. "you used to be so sweet," you murmur, your voice laced with a bittersweet longing.

his fingers inch closer, your hands almost brushing against each other. "i can still be sweet, you know," he replies softly, his gaze never leaving yours.

your heart skips a beat, the air around you growing charged with unspoken emotions. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he tilts his head, his lips curving into a genuine smile. "maybe I've been out of practice."

as the silence settles between you, the confined space of the elevator seems to amplify the intensity of your connection. the past rushes back, the moments that you shared, the love that once flourished. but you're both here now, in the present, faced with the choice of whether to rebuild or let go.

nanami's fingers finally find yours, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. "i want to make it right, to fix us," he admits, vulnerability lacing his words.

you meet his gaze, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. "It's not that simple, kento. we can't just go back to the way things were."

his thumb traces a soothing pattern on the back of your hand. "i know. but maybe we can start anew. rediscover each other, learn from our mistakes."

you study his face, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart ache. maybe he had changed, maybe he was willing to put in the effort to mend what was broken. maybe, just maybe, there was hope for your relationship after all.

the elevator's walls seem to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment. The past and the present merge, and as you search his eyes for any signs of deceit, you find none. only a genuine desire to make things right.

"i've missed you," he whispers, his voice holding a vulnerability that resonates within you.

“you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip on his hand tightening. "i've missed you too."

nanami's fingers burned with a mixture of yearning and desperation as they reached out to trace the curve of your cheek. his touch was electric, sending a surge of heat through your veins. your breath hitched in response, your heart pounding against your ribs as his thumb brushed over your skin.

his touch was no longer tentative; it was a declaration, a silent proclamation of his desire. the air seemed to crackle with tension as his gaze bore into yours, his eyes dark and smouldering.

"i've wanted to do this for so long," he confesses, his voice a low growl sending a shiver down your spine.

his fingers slide from your cheek to your jawline, his touch igniting a fire within you. the space between you seemed to vanish as he closed in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. your eyes flutter closed as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, his touch setting your skin ablaze.

and then, his lips crash onto yours with a fierce hunger that leaves you breathless. it was a kiss that ignites a wildfire, a blaze of emotions that had been suppressed for far too long. his lips moved against yours with a fervour that matched the intensity of his touch, a dance of passion and longing.

his arms encircle you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepens. his mouth moves over yours with a possessive urgency, his tongue seeking entrance and igniting a fiery tangle of sensations. the taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and nostalgia.

your fingers claw at the fabric of his shirt, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in this moment. his body presses against yours, every contour and ridge igniting a cascade of sensations that pooled between your thighs.

his hands trail down your back, the touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. when he cups your hips and pulls you impossibly closer, a moan escaped your lips, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.

as the kiss broke, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths ragged and laboured. the air around you was thick with desire, the space between you charged with an unspoken promise.

"i need you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desperation.

your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head down for another searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of pent-up longing, of a love that refused to be extinguished. your bodies moulded together as if they were meant to fit perfectly, every touch a symphony of need and surrender.

“tell me you need me, love,” he gasps out, and you nod against him, “no i got to hear you say it.”

“i need you, i do,” you whimper against his lips, as his fingers slip below the waistline of your skirt, gently grazing your clit, “k-kento we can’t, have you forgotten where we are?”

“don’t tell me you’ve become shy whilst we’ve been separated,” he chuckles, smirking as he continues to toy with your pussy “you don’t remember all the times i’d have you bent over my desk in my office?”

you bite your lip at the memory, feeling yourself get wetter as nanami’s fingers enter you, his thumb pressing against your clit. nanami knew you inside and out, he knew how exactly where to touch, how to get you whine and writhe against him as you are now.

he took advantage of your exposed neck, biting and sucking against your collarbone as he continues to stroke your cunt. you were gushing over him, repeatedly clenching against his fingers, as he twists and pushes in and out of you.

“you always get so wet for me,” he praises, pulling his fingers out of you, his digits glistening coated with you. you can smell your own arousal from his hand as he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at his lust filled eyes. “ride me.”

you didn’t need to be asked twice, you discard your skirt off on the elevator floor, as he unzips his pants. he strokes his dick as it gets harder just at the sight of you. he was back was against the wall, his legs sprawled out widely, the perfect opening for you to climb right into his lap.

you slid right onto him, letting out an exhale as he fills you. he presses a sloppy kiss against your lips as your cunt grips onto him. your hands dig into his shoulder as you bounce up and down on him, his hands having your hips in a firm hold to keep you in place.

nanami couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the way you were taking him in like you needed him, was a sight he could never get tired off. you were so pretty, all fucked out on his dick, your eyes glossed over in a daze, the only thing you were focused on was him.

“d’you see now why i could never let you go?” he teases, thrusting upwards into you as one of his hands trails up to caress your cheek, his thumb parting your lips, “because this pussy’s mine.”

he quickens his pace, eager to get you to come undone all over him, the way your movements became slower, lazier, he could tell you were nearly at your peak. you bite on his thumb, suppressing your moans, as his merciless thrust begin to become too much.

“m’close kento, i-it’s too much,”

“I know my love, you’re taking me so well,” he praises, pushing deeper into you, “just hold out for a bit longer.”

“i-i can’t i-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as you feel yourself release all over him. nanami groans out his head collapsing in your cleavage as he finishes inside of you, your juices mixing with his.

the only sounds that can be heard are you both trying to catch your breath. nanami keeps his head pressed against your tits, still inside of you. you toy with his hair pushing his hair back to leave a gentle kiss against his head, his arms tighten around you and it was as if you could feel him smile against you. you knew from then that you and your husband was going to be okay.

“kento?” your voice wavers, a mixture of uncertainty and hope lacing your words.

“yes? my love,” he responds, his gaze locked onto yours.

your heart flutters as you gather your courage, the weight of the past and the possibilities of the future intertwining in your chest. "I think we can cancel that meeting with my lawyer."

nanami's smile broadens, but it's different this time – it's a smile that carries the weight of understanding and a newfound determination. he holds your gaze, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes, a silent promise of change and rediscovery.

you eventually got out of that elevator and you didn’t go home to your separate apartments, you went home, together.

extra an: so guys what did you think?? first time writing for smut, and for nanami so if it’s shit spare me. but I love him and I’d never divorce him. DIVIDERS FROM @/CAFEKITSUNE !!

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanami angst #nanami fluff #jjk smut #nanami smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x you #nanami kento smut

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kayveleth · 6 months ago

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Let's start with an exercise. I want you to say, "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll" out loud. Say it normally, as though you were stating your choice of beverage. It requires equally little thought. You've spent plenty of time exploring your other choices, and "mindless fuckdoll" is definitely your favorite. If I ask you what you want to be, the words "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll" will tumble from your mouth with the ease of your name or your birthday. That doesn't have to happen yet, though. You've simply decided that "mindless fuckdoll" is what your end goal is.

In order to help with that, at the end of every sentence, I'd like you to say the phrase "mindless fuckdoll" in as casual a way you can. Mindless fuckdoll. Don't try to sound sexy or blank. Mindless fuckdoll. Just say it normally. Mindless fuckdoll. Over and over. Mindless fuckdoll. With each sentence. Mindless fuckdoll. I want you to get used to saying it. Mindless fuckdoll. I want it to become almost a habit. Mindless fuckdoll. You know, the more you use a muscle in a specific way. Mindless fuckdoll. The more readily your body does it each time. Mindless fuckdoll. And the less your conscious mind needs to be devoted to doing it.Mindless fuckdoll. Can you remember every time you brushed your teeth or buckled a seatbelt? Mindless fuckdoll. No, because eventually these became ingrained activities. Mindless fuckdoll. And you didn't have to think about them at all after a while. Mindless fuckdoll. And that's what you're doing right now. Mindless fuckdoll. You're training your mouth to say

"mindless fuckdoll" without even needing to think about it. Mindless fuckdoll. It's becoming muscle memory. Mindless fuckdoll. And now it's gotten so easy, that you don't need to be reminded to say "mindless fuckdoll." You just continue saying "mindless fuckdoll." This won't turn you into a mindless fuckdoll yet. It will take a bit of time to remove the rest of the brain and body that are needed for your everyday necessities. But the more you hear yourself say it, the more used to it you become.

We'll start with your sense of responsibility. You have many of those things. They range from massive to minuscule. Some days you may have to make a tough decision at work. Some days, you may just have to get all of your laundry done. But when you're a mindless fuckdoll, you won't have to think about any of that. Won't that be fantastic? Nod your head. Now take a deep breath in... and happily sigh away your responsibilities.

Next, let's get rid of your sense of modesty. Normally, you have to negotiate societal norms of dress and behavior. You have to figure out the ever-changing lines of social acceptability to try to maintain your relationships with people. And that can be fucking exhausting. But that's another great thing being a mindless fuckdoll. Mindless fuckdolls wear what they're told to wear and behave how they're told to behave. Isn't it great to not worry about that anymore? Nod and smile. Take a deep breath in... and happily sigh away your modesty.

Now, finally, we will do away with your sense of self. You spend so much time worrying about yourself and your relation to others. How your actions define you. How your decisions have consequences. But you want to be a mindless fuckdoll. And mindless fuckdolls don't make decisions. Mindless fuckdolls exist to be used and useful. That is your dream, isn't it? Smile and nod. Take a deep breath... and happily sigh away your sense of self.

Now there should still be a few scraps of your mind remaining. It's always so difficult to blow out all the candles at once, isn't it? Nod and smile. Now, to get rid of that pesky little brain, want you to imagine something for me. want you to imagine yourself stepping on an elevator on the tenth floor of a building. This elevator is your mind. The tenth floor is where all your everyday thinking and behavior work. The doors close and your mind is closed to your thoughts and will. You look up and see a digital display reading the number 10 in red numerals. The elevator is going to go down, floor by floor. Your mind will fall deeper into trance with each floor. deeper with each number until I reach 1. And with each number, you will say "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll." You will believe it more each time, as it flashes into your head like a fireworks display. And now, you feel the elevator begin to move down. Your heart flutters a little in anticipation, but there's no going back now. And you don't want to go back now anyway. Mindless fuckdoll. The elevator comes to a halt and the display reads

The doors open and you realize that this floor is full of nothing but obedience, and now the elevator that is your mind has been flooded by the orange gas of obedience. There's nothing in your mind now except obedience. That's good though. Mindless fuckdolls should be obedient. Mindless fuckdolls love to be useful. Mindless fuckdolls live to serve. And you want to be a mindless fuckdoll, don't you? Nod and smile. The elevator doors close, but your mind is still permeated with obedience. The elevator moves and stops again. The indicator reads

The doors open and this floor contains submission. Now your mind is flooded with the blue gas of it, filling you with the knowledge that you are just a helpless toy in the grasp of someone else. You yield to your superiors, and everyone is superior to a mindless fuckdoll. And you like knowing that, don't you? Smile and nod. Mindless fuckdoll. Now the doors shut, but the elevator is full of blue and orange vapor, swirling together. And that's right. That's how it should be. Obedience and submission go perfectly together. The elevator moves down again and again comes to a halt. The display says

This is the floor where your arousal is kept. The pink gas rolls in and you are overwhelmed by it. Your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as the pleasurable sensations take over your mind and body. Your nipples harden and your cunt drools. You get excited at the idea of being a mindless fuckdoll, don't you? Nod and smile. The doors close, and now there's pink gas in here, too, with the blue and orange, keeping your mind and body aroused, submissive, and obedient. The elevator moves down to the next floor and stops. The display reads

The doors open and in pours the white gas of blankness. Mindless fuckdolls don't think. They have nothing to think with. Their brains are clean chalkboards for anyone to write on. Your last few stray thoughts are swallowed up by this intense blankness. Then the doors shut, but you barely notice. Now your head is filled with obedience, arousal, submission, and blankness. And those are all good things, aren't they? Smile and nod. The elevator moves again and stops at the next floor. The counter says

You're halfway to being a mindless fuckdoll. The lower you go, the more intense everything becomes. The doors open and a bright yellow vapor rolls in. This is the happiness floor! Your mind is filled with pure joy. The ecstasy of becoming a mindless fuckdoll is overwhelming and you can't keep a big smile from your face, can you? Nod and smile. The doors shut, and that makes you happy. Everything makes you happy. Your mind is filled with lovely gasses of so many colors now, swirling around each other. Orange and pink and blue and white and yellow. You're so happy, and obedient. So aroused and submissive. And so, so blank. You don't even feel the elevator move anymore. Just suddenly, the floor indicator reads:

The doors open and you are engulfed in a green gas of silliness. You giggle as it hits you, and that's okay. Mindless fuckdolls have to do some very silly and stupid things sometimes. And now, the siliness is part of you. Make a silly noise for me and giggle at yourself. Isn't that fun? Smile and nod. The door closes and you are silly and happy, blank and submissive, aroused and obedient. But it's so easy to be all these things because these are the ingredients of a mindless fuckdoll. And you want to be a mindless fuckdoll. The digital display that you're helplessly staring at reads

The doors open and a purple fog surrounds you. You instantly feel your skin come alive with pleasure. This is the floor of sensitivity. Your nerves are primed for pleasure at the slightest touch, at the tiniest little brush. Every hole begs to be filled. Your pussy is so sensitive that you could probably cum from a soft breeze. You looove being so ready for pleasure, don't you? Nod and smile. The doors shut and you are so close to the bottom. Your mind is so blank and silly. So submissive and aroused. So obedient and happy. And you're so sensitive to pleasure. Only one more floor before you hit the bottom. And in no time, that mesmerizing floor indicator reads

The doors open all you an see is red. This is the lust floor, and you are instantly filled with a burning need. You NEED to obey. You NEED to submit. You NEED to be blank. You NEED to be silly. You NEED to be sensitive. You NEED to be happy. You NEED to be aroused. These are not options for you. You are consumed by lust and it intensifies everything. Nothing can stop you. You ache for it. You hunger for it now, and you can't stop can you? Smile wide and nod emphatically. Say "Uh-huh" and moan in beautiful agony of lust. The doors close and you know that it's all over. This last floor will complete your transformation into a mindless fuckdoll and there's no way to stop now. Your mind is a rainbow of colors: blue and green and pink and red and orange and white and purple and yellow. They swirl and dance, filling you with all the right ingredients for a mindless fuckdoll. And as you hungrily stare at the indicator, it changes to read

The doors open one last time and you are surrounded by millions of tiny bubbles. A mindless fuckdoll's head should be filled with bubbles. They reflect all of the colors swirling in your mind so that you see a glistening shiny rainbow wherever you look. And when they pop, you giggle. The bubbles keep coming in until your feet leave the floor. You are literally floating on the bubbles in your head. Any contact with what used to be your mind is lost as you float and drift away.

You did it. You're a mindless fuckdoll. Say that out loud. "I'm a mindless fuckdoll." It's so wonderful to be a mindless fuckdoll. One of the best parts of being a mindless fuckdoll is that you get to be mindless. Mindless things have no mind. And the other great part is, you get to be a fuckdoll. Fuckdolls are brainless beings to begin with. Like any doll, you have no thoughts, no will of your own. You just sit there, with a fixed expression on your face, ready to be played with. Your head is empty, waiting to be filled. Filled with commands and cum and anything else that will make you horny. Because you're a fuckdoll. And fuckdolls are horny. Your brain is gone. Your mouth is open and drooling. Your pussy is drooling, too, and begging to be touched. Your hands and feet, your arms and legs, your tits and ass, are all aching to be of service. Your mouth may groan or moan or grunt all on it's own, but you don't notice. You're too mindless to notice anything but your body and your commands.

Now, when you finish reading this, mindless fuckdoll, your eyes will glaze over. eventually your body will succumb to the lust and you will start to masturbate while repeating the phrase "mindless fuckdoll" over and over until you cum. And when you cum, you will cum harder than you ever have before. Because you are a mindless fuckdoll, and mindless fuckdolls are made to cum. After you cum, you will text me and you will obey any command given to you by me.

feeling better than ever and ready to become a mindless fuckdoll that much more easily next time.

#hypnosis #mind control #hypno toy #mind conditioning #bimboification #cnc somno #bimbo training #mindless #cnc free use #brainwashing

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wandasaura · 3 months ago

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BENT RIGHT TO YOUR WINDS

summary — visiting your wife at work has become a normal part of your routine, but when she gets particularly handsy one afternoon, you find yourself christening her office whether you like it or not

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, consensual free use, established safeword (it’s not used), public play, office sex, groping, nipple stimulation, choking, teasing, semi brat!reader, oral fixation, fingers as a gag, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, slight degradation, making out, nearly getting caught, alludes to aftercare, wanda in a lab coat deserves a warning, men/minors dni

authors note — happy happy happy birthday to @godhatesgoodgirls !!

kinktober

The day had felt askew since you’d rolled out of bed, something amiss in the routine you’d settled yourself into since moving to the small beach town Wanda had secured a promotion in just seven months prior; when the weather had been warmer and the leaves had been vibrant with hues of green. You bristled at the breeze that swept off the shore the closer you got to central town, able to see the rippling high tides if you craned your neck just slightly to the left and peered through the shrubbery that framed an old ice cream parlor named ‘Sprinkles’, but your gaze was fixed on the large brownstone building that you’d initially sought out, your thoughts spiraling as you considered the misleading appearance. The work that was done inside was prestigious, innovative, a true slice of the future right at the fingertips of those that had access to the futuristic laboratories inside, but the outside fit the quaint white picket fence aesthetic of Westview seamlessly. Had you never been inside before, had you not been married to Wanda who left each morning in a wrinkleless white coat, you’d have thought it was just another Mom and Pop shop for tourists to ogle at, but you weren’t blinded by ignorance – for once you were liberated with knowledge and effortless love.

You smiled softly at Darcy as you stepped inside, finally away from the chill that October had brought with it. The warm nights and blisteringly hot days of September were long behind you, replaced by the unforgiving assault that fall brought upon you and the other residents of Westview. The thick burnt orange and brown flannel around your shoulders did little to keep you warm, but at the very least it provided a sanctuary for your hands to hide away in as you walked the short mile from your two story house to the identifiable brownstone with ‘Romanoff Industries’ pinned to the front. There was a styrofoam jack-o-lantern on the front desk, and a string of harvest leaves behind the counter as well. The touches of decor were soft, delicate, but enough to revive the spirits of those that trekked into work each day; a thoughtful addition that didn’t make the routine of life feel so mindless.

“Wanda’s in her office.” Darcy’s smile was sweet as she nodded her head toward the elevator despite knowing that you preferred to take the stairs. You wouldn’t call her a friend, but she was always a comfortable face to see when you made the journey into town to visit Wanda during her lunch break. Since April when you’d come to help set up the office space despite Wanda keeping her decor minimal and devoid of heavy personal connection, she’d picked up on your habits, and it had become something of a running bet to see how long it would take for you to give into her quiet pestering. You’d yet to take the elevator, and Darcy huffed quietly from behind the desk as you pointedly avoided the silver plaque with glimmering white buttons to instead enter the stairwell, which was decorated with a wooden pumpkin sign hanging from a single clear command strip.

Natasha was definitely the one who had decorated, that much was obvious as you glanced at the decorations hung up within the interior of the stairwell. She was a very business oriented woman, that much you’d come to know since getting acquainted with Wanda’s coworkers and all of their unique relationships, and every story she retold of Natasha’s behavior throughout the day led you to believe that while she maintained a no bullshit attitude, there were soft, fleeting moments of tender care hidden beneath her stoic actions and expressions. She always pushed for Wanda to take a full hour lunch break, even though she preferred to eat as quickly as possible before returning to the lab, and on her birthday, which she hadn’t told anyone about, there had been a present sitting on her desk that was admittedly not very personal, but still touching because it meant that Natasha had remembered reading it on her transfer application. The touches of halloween decor was minimal, and honestly, somewhat laughable, but there was a softer message beneath the taped up scarecrow and the wonkily hung jack-o-lanterns. Even if the holidays were of no relevance to Natasha, who you knew worked every holiday that she could because Wanda was always prattling on about her data being changed during the few days off they received for things like Christmas and Easter, she knew that it mattered to her staff, and she tried her best to put some effort into boosting moral around the office.

When you entered Wanda’s office, the meticulously clean room being just beside the stairwell door, you noticed her lack of presence, which was odd. Wanda was always around when she knew you were coming, not wanting any of her other co-workers to get the chance to report back to Natasha claiming you were snooping through classified files. It had never happened, but the people at her old placement had started that rumor anyways, and Yelena, her boss that had become something of a close friend to you even if you rarely spoke with her grueling work schedule and your lack of genuinely trying, had merely rolled her eyes, but had still been required to scold Wanda for her negligence. Natasha’s hand would be forced the same way if anyone began those rumors again, so Wanda, bless her, had tried to nip them in the butt before they could even truly begin, which brought you right back to your confusion as you looked around the office. The salad she’d made before leaving was sat on her desk, picked through and beginning to wilt, signaling that she’d either forgotten to put the ice pack in her lunch box again despite the pink sticky note you left on the freezer door, or she’d taken lunch early by Natasha’s forcing. You hoped you weren’t interrupting anything important, not aware of your plans being subject to change, but before you could dwell on what she could possibly be doing somewhere misplaced in the large office building, you felt hands wrapping around your body and pulling you backward.

A soft gasp fell off of your lips when the door was kicked closed, and then you realized what was happening. A breathy whine fell off your lips when fingers pinched at your nipples through the thick material of your shirt, the unbuttoned flannel thrown over your shoulders allowing your attacker to feel the way they pebbled without a bra to conceal them. The flash of white as one hand reached up to hold onto your neck had you melting against her chest, somewhat out of breath from the shock that had rattled you initially.

“Wanda.” You sighed softly, head lulling to the side when teeth nipped at your neck before passionate kisses were pressed into your skin and trialed downward toward the collar of your shirt. “Wanda, you’re at work.” You tried again, face growing flush as you stared ahead at the open blinds. If anyone was standing across the street, if they craned their head just the slightest bit upward, they’d undoubtedly be able to make out the silhouette of your body being groped. A whine fell off of your lips when a curious hand pinched at your nipples once more, relishing in the way they hardened beneath harsh pressure.

“Shh, baby. Just let me touch you, I’ll be quick.” She’d have stopped if you really wanted her to. All that you had to do was say a single word, and her hands would be off of you faster than they’d grabbed you to begin with, but the rush of excitement that had your clit pulsating against the seam of your leggings deterred you from making that choice. Wanda clearly knew that her office was safe enough to touch you in this way, and not so secretly, you yearned for the thrill of somebody knocking on the door, forcing the both of you to spring apart and attempt to collect yourself in time for them to not grow concerned beyond the threshold. Another added bonus was the dominance in which she touched you with, leaving nothing up for your consideration, merely taking what she wanted and giving what she wanted you to have. There was something so tantalizing about being at her disposal whenever and however she pleased, and you’d both gone to great lengths to ensure that this element of your sexual relationship was both consensual and comfortable for the both of you, not just her. She wasn’t doing anything that you hadn’t previously agreed to, in fact, you wish she’d do more. You wished her hands would stop toying with the collar of your shirt and wrap around your neck the way that you adored, that her hands would stop fiddling with your nipples overtop of your shirt and seek the price you hid beneath the thick cotton. You wished she’d travel lower, exploit that sensitive nerve between your legs that she knew how to manipulate until you were merely putty in her hands begging for release that she had every right to deny you. You wished she’d stop handling you so softly.

“If we’re going to do this, you need to at least make it worth my while, Maximoff.” You rushed out, eyes closed as pleasure seized your thoughts, pinning you in place as she twisted your nipple sadistically, enjoying the way every muscle in your body tightened before it melted away into bliss that you couldn’t fight. She chuckled darkly against your neck, her hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear.

“Trying to tell me what to do, pretty girl?” She quizzed, pulling you back against her chest with a firm grip around your midsection, her fingers that weren’t taunting your sensitive nipples fiddling with the waistband of your leggings that begged to be slipped down lower until your cunt was exposed to the heat circulating through the spacious office. “When has that ever worked out well for you?”

“Never.” You gritted through clenched teeth, taking in a large breath when the first instance of getting what you wanted from her presented itself, but you were foolish to think she’d cave to your bratting so easily, and just as easily as her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your leggings to pull at the hem of your delicate panties, they were gone and trailed back up your body until they found a comfortable home against your neck. Her fingers squeezed tightly, and the sudden change in air going to your lungs had your eyes fluttering closed as you slumped against her chest, writhing in pleasurable pain as she again pulled at your taut nipples and chuckled whimsically.

“I applaud your efforts, detka, but you’re not here to make demands.” You gasped when teeth sank into your neck, right above where her thumb rested along the column of your skin, practically burning you with its possessive grip. A deep sense of pleasure rolled through your body when her knee pushed between your legs, her toned thigh sitting around against your clit, further driving the seam of your pants into your intimacy, giving you just an ounce of friction, which you took eagerly, rocking against her clothed thigh as you felt the impression of her pens in the breast pocket of her lab coat digging into you shoulder blade. “So easy, malyshka. Would you let anyone touch you like this? Have you wherever they wanted?” She knows that answer is a firm no, but still she likes to taunt your desperation for her touch, and it only adds to the humiliation that's beginning to pile up on you as you become desperate enough to rock against the thigh between your legs, desperate sounds falling off your lips as you attempt to silence your need. “So noisy, we’re gonna have to do something about that.”

You’re shoved away from her body like merely touching your skin is enough to burn her, and you can’t help but meekly whimper at the loss of contant. It lasts for merely a handful of seconds, her hungry eyes undressing you as you found your footing and steadied yourself. “Pants around your ankles. I don’t have time for you to look at me like a deer in headlights.” She grumbles, already beginning to move around the office and ensure that the blinds are properly drawn as you push down your leggings and fold yourself over the desk in the way that you know she wants. Your ass sticks out just enough for your glistening cunt to be visible, and a sadistic chuckle warms your skin as she sets her eyes on you already dripping for her. “You like when I take advantage of you, baby? When I tell you to come meet me for lunch just so I can play with your cunt?” It all makes sense now, and you can’t help but cry out in surprise when her palm comes down on the globe of your ass and leaves a stinging sensation in its wake. Another hit follows, this time harder and directed at your lower thighs, but there’s not time for you to respond before she’s pushing two fingers into your folds and setting a brutal pace as she works to have you coming undone.

She’d nearly been late to work that morning, too focused on obsessing over you to a degree that should’ve made her plans for the afternoon obvious. She’d asked you a few hundred questions, about how you were doing mentally, how you felt being in Westview now that it wasn’t so new, if you were still getting caught between feelings of sadness and longing in moments that you couldn’t have predicted such a strong overcoming of emotion. You hadn’t thought anything about it until now, but as you gathered the full picture, you can see that she was checking in, ensuring that none of this would affect you in any way other than positively. If her hand wasn’t holding your back firmly against her desk, you would’ve spun around to kiss her, but all that you could do now was whine as her fingers hammered into you, curling upward if only to graze that sensitive spot within your walls minimally. She was toying with you, teasing you, seeing how long she could prolong your pleasure until you begged for her to give you more.

It came quickly, because the overwhelming assault of your love for her only multiplied the pleasure that her fingers were provoking within your core, and the small movements of your hips pushing back against her fingers only gained you so much. “Please! Please! I need more!” You begged, tears blurring in your vision as your moans and whines became too loud, and were quickly silenced by her fingers forcing themselves into your mouth. She pressed down on your tongue cynically, chuckling to herself as you gagged and moaned around her now sodden digits.

She didn’t try to deny you though, working faster, pressing against that sweet spot within you with purpose now, dragging out every ounce of pleasure you allowed her to take, her thumb falling onto your clit as she guided you towards an orgasm that had to be silent, the sounds of footsteps just beyond the office door reminding you of where you are.

“Cum for me, detka. It’s okay, you can let go.” She cooed as she felt your walls begin to squeeze her fingers, fluttering and pulsating with each ounce of pleasure she drew out of you. That was all it took for you to fall apart, her fingers in your mouth silencing the whines and moans that attempted to fall into the air, but became muffled and soft sounding as her digits prevented them from fully forming on your tongue. Your thighs trembled as she withdrew her fingers, your brain a jumbled mess of pleasure and submission as you reached for your pants and worked them up your legs.

You smiled softly as she turned you around in her arms, laying a kiss to your lips that was soft and tender like she always was. “Did you eat?” She checked in, no longer radiating dominance that had your mind whirling with pleasurable incoherence, and just barely did you manage to nod your head before the door swung upon and one of her colleges that you’d heard about stood in the doorway with a beam of pride on her lips, entirely unaware of what she’d almost barged in on.

“We made a development! Like, a big development!” Kate rambled with excitement, taking off down the hallway and back toward the lab before Wanda even had a chance to reply.

You batted at the woman's chest, your hand landing right against her breast pocket where three black pens were meticulously pinned, your cheeks flush in mortification. “You didn’t lock the door?!”

“Whoops?” She grinned bashfully, stealing one last kiss before she was racing out of the office and in the direction that Kate had fled to. “I’ll see you at home, baby! Love you!”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff fic #[ kinktober ] — ⟡

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hotchscoffeecup · 6 months ago

Text

stuck

summary: stuck inside an elevator with your boss, aaron hotchner, isn’t what you had in mind when you left work late. perhaps, you can get your supervisor to relax just a little. SFW

tags: minor blood, stuck inside an elevator

pairing: hotch x reader

word count: 3k

a late birthday fic for muffin <3

“Alright, goodnight Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Hotch, it’s late. I’m tired. It’s hotter than hell outside. Trust me, when I tell you that all I need is some late night takeout, a shower, and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.” You let out a short laugh. “I’ll be fine.”

He nods in farewell; offering a tired, albeit, tight smile before parting ways and moving toward his SUV a few spots down from your sedan. It had been a long day, and an even longer evening. The rest of the team had gone home hours ago, but Hotch had volunteered to stay behind and help you on your case report. Your skin bristles at the thought of the last 72 hours and you feel the tension pulling each one of your muscles as you reach into your purse and feel for your keys. After a few seconds of rifling around, your brow knits together when you don’t come across the key fob.

Releasing an exasperated sigh, your shoulders slump. “Dammit.”

“Everything okay?” Hotch asks, pausing after opening his car door.

You incline your head and wave a hand through the air. “Yeah, I just left my keys on my desk.”

A car door slams and the sound of Hotch’s footsteps echo as he moves towards you. “I’ll walk with you.”

You blow out a breath and wave him off. “No, go home. It’s just going to be a few extra minutes. Go see Jack.”

“He’s with his aunt until tomorrow evening, then hopefully I’ll get to spend the entire weekend with him before duty calls.” He gestures towards the elevator. “It’s no trouble, really,” he insists.

You can’t help but feel like a nuisance, but you don’t argue any further. A humid breeze blows through the parking garage and thunder rumbles off in the distance. Hotch presses the button to summon the elevator and as the gears rumble to life both of your cells start pinging.

Hotch reaches into his pants pocket as you reach into your purse. You both check your cells where a severe thunderstorm warning flashes across the screen.

“Hotch, really, you can go.”

Hotch arches a brow, sparing you a look that says not-a-chance as the doors open. “Come on, if the weather kicks up before we get back down, I’ll drive you home.”

He stretches an arm out to hold the door and you reluctantly step inside, accepting that he’s not going to leave.

You push the button for the ninth floor and cross your arms over your chest. “My car can handle a little rain, Hotch.”

He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “With the weather they’re calling for, your car will become a boat.”

“Careful, Hotch. That was almost a joke.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t reply.

The elevator pings as you ascend higher and higher. By the time the elevator crawls past floor four the sound of rain pounding against the building echoes inside the elevator.

“Damn,” you curse quietly. “I can only imagine what 95 is going to look like with this going on.”

“I’m sure it’ll—” A loud clap of thunder explodes outside, cutting Aaron off.

You startle, gasping loudly and feeling yourself immediately flush red with embarrassment. Your eyes flicker over to Hotch and he looks calm and collected, unshaken by the burst of sound.

Suddenly, the lights go out and the elevator screeches to a halt, throwing you off balance. You stumble as the elevator rocks violently and in your heels, you’re unable to catch yourself before you fall forward and hit your head against the wall; dropping your purse and scattering its contents in the process.

Pain splits your brow and your hand flies to your forehead. Blood, sticky and wet, trickles into your eye and you wince. The emergency lights kick on as you and Hotch both collect yourselves and stand.

“Are you ok?” Hotch asks.

“I hit my head.”

“Here, let me take a look.”

His hand curls under your arm as he uses the other to tilt your chin up. His eyes are hard in the dim red light.

“I can’t tell how deep it is in this lighting.” He presses his lips together and reaches for his cell. “Dammit!”

“Let me guess,” you say. “No signal.”

He snaps his phone shut. “None, what about you?”

“My entire life is on the floor right now,” you quip, gesturing at the ground.

“Right, sorry.” His eyes scan the ground and quickly locate your phone. He scoops it up and after flipping it open, he shakes his head with an exasperated sigh.

“Well,” you reply. “Guess we better make ourselves comfortable until the generators kick in.”

You kneel down and begin sweeping your belongings toward you. Hotch crouches and helps you without asking.

“Let’s at least see what you might have that I can use to help clean it up and stop the bleeding.”

“Oh yeah, let me just reach into my Mary Poppins bag here and pull out an EMT’s jump bag.”

He aims a hard look at you that he usually reserves for whenever Penelope makes a comment that teeters the line with HR.

“I’m the one with my head split open, I think I’m allowed to be sarcastic right now.”

Hotch breathes out sharply. “Split open, that’s a tad dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Two zingers in a row, Hotch. I’m impressed.” He shakes his head but even in the dim lighting, you don’t miss the smile on his lips. He picks up a couple of items and hands them to you. “Here’s your,” he pauses to examine the items in his hand. “Lipstick and tampons.”

A furious heat races to your cheeks as you snatch them out of his hand and shove them in your purse.

“Wait, give me one of those. I can use it to stop the bleeding.”

“Hotch, I’m not giving you a tampon.”

He levels you with another hard stare and when he says your name, you can hear the amusement in his voice. “It’s either that or your sweater, and I know that was a gift from JJ on your birthday. Besides, I was married for a long time. I’m not embarrassed by tampons or pads. You know I keep a supply in my desk, right?”

Your brow pinches, but a smile plays about your face. “Ok, I’ll bite,” you say as you pass him one. “Why?”

He pauses before tearing open the packaging. “You wouldn’t happen to have any hand sanitizer in there, would you?”

It takes you seconds to find the mini Purell inside your handbag and pass it to him. He squeezes some into his hands and scrubs it over his skin. “One time, Penelope dropped a file off in my office. She was in a rush and not acting like herself. I could tell she was stressed.” He tears open the plastic and pushes the cotton portion of the tampon out of the applicator. “I asked her if she was okay and boy, was that the wrong question to ask.” Hotch turns his head, looking around. “Ah, thought I saw that.” He scoops your half finished water bottle off the ground and pours a small bit of water onto the cotton to break it up. After working it into a small square, he gently presses it against the split in your brow. You wince and he apologizes. “She burst into tears and told me that her cycle had snuck up out of nowhere and she was unprepared and needed to run to the drug store. I told her not to worry and that I’d go for her. I’d forgotten to ask what exactly she wanted me to get, so I bought a little of everything. She took what she needed and I told her that I’d keep the rest in the lower left drawer of my desk in case an emergency ever arose again.”

“Hotch, that’s actually really sweet.”

He feigns a pained look, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your use of the word actually cuts pretty deep, you know?” He lifts the makeshift bandage and inspects the injury. “It’s still bleeding. I’m afraid you might need stitches.”

You blow out a breath. “Great, and what do I tell them? Hey, I fell face first into an elevator panel. Patch me up!”

Hotch chuckles and applies more pressure to the wound. You hiss and again, he apologizes.

“It’s okay,” you say and realize this is probably the closest you’ve ever been to your supervisor. In fact, from this angle you notice just how long and thick his dark lashes are; the way his coffee colored eyes glimmer in the low lighting.

Holy shit, what are you thinking? That’s your boss you’re ogling.

“It’s hot.”

You blink out of your momentary stupor. “I’m sorry, what?”

“In here,” Aaron answers.

“Well yeah, the AC is out with the power. What do you think is taking the generators so long to kick in?”

Hotch’s brow furrows as his eyes flick about the space. “I’m not sure. It’s highly unusual though.”

You shrug out of your sweater and take over holding the makeshift bandage against your forehead, your fingers brushing against his hand as you do so. Bunching your sweater into a ball, you place it behind you and lie back.

Hotch laughs awkwardly. “What are you doing?”

“It seems like we’re going to be stuck here awhile, might as well make myself comfortable.”

He pushes himself to his feet and presses the emergency call button. You’re not shocked when the only response is static. You watch as he paces, pushing the button every few minutes.

“This is where Reid would say something like ‘the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.’”

Hotch tucks his hand against his belt and pushes his suit jacket back with his other fingers. It's a gesture you’re all too familiar with, the one he uses when he’s exasperated. He swipes at the perspiration beading on his forehead with his opposite sleeve.

“So, what, we just wait?”

A smirk pulls at your lips. This shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does, especially given the fact that you have a head injury and probably need to get checked out.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re so,” you hedge, searching for the word, “high strung.”

Hotch’s brow climbs toward his hairline. “Excuse me?”

Did you hit a nerve? It was a fairly bold statement to make. Situation be damned, he was still your boss. “I don’t know, Hotch.” You release a short laugh. “You can’t really be in control all the time, can you?”

“Doesn’t this team have an agreement to not profile each other?”

You roll your eyes and prop yourself up on an elbow, wincing as pain pulses behind your eye. Hotch’s lips part as he instinctively moves toward you and you wave him off. “It’s not about profiling, Hotch, look at you. Stop trying to solve everything all the time and just say ‘hey, this shit sucks!’”

He holds your eye for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“You’re right,” he says. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drops onto the floor beside you. “This shit sucks.”

You smile and he returns one. It looks good on him. It’s something he doesn’t do often enough.

“Let me check your head.” He leans forward and you let him inspect the gash in your forehead. “I think the bleeding stopped.” Placing his palm against your jaw, he tilts your head toward the red emergency lights. “Everything looks,” his eyes glimmer and drop to linger on yours. “Fine.”

Your lips part, but you don’t find words. Has Hotch ever looked at you like this? Well, that implies he's looking at you a certain type of way. You clear your throat and Hotch drops his hand.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

The words are out of your mouth before you can think. “Are you?”

He says your name then, barely a whisper. He’s so close, close enough for you to smell his aftershave. You feel your heart rate begin to pick up, pulse pounding in your ears. Hotch’s chin dips and his lips are a hair's breadth away from yours. Before anything can happen, the elevator’s gears suddenly grind to life. The sudden jolt of movement causes your foreheads to bump together and you groan as pain splinters behind your eye.

Hotch immediately apologizes and holds your face in his hands, making sure the minor collision didn’t reopen the wound that had barely stopped bleeding as is.

Your hand reaches up to cup his against your cheek and you meet his concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Hotch.”

He holds your gaze for a moment before dipping his head. “Okay,” he says tightly. “Okay, let’s get you up. There’s a first aid kit in the break room.” He grabs hold of your forearm and loops an arm around your waist before helping you to your feet. You stumble as you rise to your full height, your blood not yet having the chance to properly circulate through your body.

Hotch’s grip tightens around your waist and you place a steadying head against his chest; fingers splayed against the muscular plane beneath the fabric of his dress shirt.

Only when the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the 9th floor do you remember that it's your boss with his arm around you right now. You startle apart and laugh awkwardly.

“Here, let me—” His voice trails off as he drops to a crouching position and sweeps the remaining items of yours off the floor along with his jacket and your sweater.

You walk in semi-comfortable silence, letting Hotch lead the way to the break room. When you arrive, you let him pull out a chair for you and take a seat. He moves quickly, rummaging through cabinets until he locates the first aid kit. He sits opposite from you and opens the white box. After pulling on a pair of disposable gloves, he makes quick work of opening several gauze pads. He squeezes rubbing alcohol onto the gauze and apologizes in advance.

“It’s going to sting,” he cautions as he begins cleaning the area around the wound and the blood that had dripped down your cheek.

“I’m a big girl, Hotch. My dad cleaned my skinned knees when I was a kid.”

Hotch chuckles, and it rumbles low in his throat. “I certainly hope you don’t see me as your father.”

You nearly choke on your own spit and feel a furious heat blossom across your face. Hotch sees this and the smile stays plastered on his face. He presses the alcohol soaked cotton to the wound.

You hiss at the contact and dig your nails into your palms. “Fuck!” you curse, though it’s mixed with sharp laughter. “I don’t remember it stinging that much!”

Hotch laughs as he apologizes and works as quickly as he can to clean the affected area. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He finishes up and applies two butterfly bandages, which effectively close the gash. He discards the gloves and soiled gauze. After washing his hands, he uses a disinfectant wipe to sanitize the table and replaces the first aid kit in the cabinet.

“Efficient, as always.” You observe.

“I’ll have to fill out an incident report,” he says as he wipes his hands on his pants.

“Yeah, but that can wait until Monday.”

Hotch presses his lips together, not liking the sound of that.

“Oh, come on Aaron!”

His brow quirks. “Aaron? You never call me by my first name.”

You smile and gesture toward your forehead. “Head injury, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s nice,” he says, a dimple in his cheek on show as he smiles. His expression shifts immediately towards worry. “Though, you might actually have a mild concussion. We should probably get you to a doctor.”

You wave him off. “A doctor is just going to tell me to rest, take ibuprofen, don’t sleep the first night, et cetera, et cetera…Frankly, I’d rather avoid the bill.”

“There's a protocol for this…paper work, workers comp.”

You slap your hands against your thighs. “Fine!” you relent. “Let’s go!”

Hotch smiles, relief evident on his face. “I’ll grab the paperwork.” You scoop your sweater and purse into your arms as he dashes out of the break room.

As you make your way back toward the elevator, Hotch joins you. “Forgetting something?”

Your eyes widen and you feel like you could smack yourself. “My keys!”

Hotch tucks the manila envelope under his arm and fishes around in his pocket, withdrawing your key ring with a cheeky grin on his face. You quickly grab them out of his hand and shove them into your purse. “The whole reason I’m in this mess,” you grumble.

You slap the button to summon the elevator just as thunder crashes outside once more. You and Hotch exchange a look. “On second thought, why don’t we just take the stairs?”

“Good idea,” Hotch agrees.

As you descend the nine flights of stairs, you can’t help but think of the long night you’re about to be in for. When you reach the parking garage, you can smell the rain in the air. You press the button to unlock your car.

“What are you doing?” Hotch asks. “No way, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Hotch, I’m going to be there all night.”

“Okay, so I’ll buy you breakfast in the morning.”

You freeze and Hotch does too. For a minute you just stand there holding each other’s gaze and in that moment, you both know something has fundamentally changed between the two of you. What that change is, neither of you can tell; but something in your gut tells you it’s a change for the better and you can’t wait to find out more.

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doumadono · 7 months ago

Note

Bakugo being a porn streamer (for Sinful Sunday)

Warnings: smut with plot, rough smut, pussy fingering and eating, cunnilingus, missionary, creampie, fem!reader, male masturbation, squirting, public sex, only fans & pornhub mentions, porn stream, Bakugo has OnlyFans account

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll I held over a week ago. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The cityscape glowed like a thousand gems scattered across a dark velvet blanket, each light a testament to the life teeming below.

Katsuki Bakugo strode through the bustling streets, the remnants of his patrol echoing in the satisfied murmurs of bystanders he had saved earlier. His fiery eyes scanned the horizon, mind already drifting to the solace awaiting him at home.

Reaching the sleek, modern building that housed his penthouse, Bakugo nodded curtly to the doorman and made his way to the private elevator. As the doors closed, he allowed a small, rare smile to touch his lips.

It had been a good day — no major catastrophes, no near-death experiences. Just another day of being the best hero the world had ever seen.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the top floor.

Bakugo stepped into his luxurious apartment, the space a perfect blend of modernity and comfort. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, and plush furnishings invited him to relax. He shed his hero gear with practiced efficiency, revealing the chiseled body beneath — one that had become almost as famous as his explosive quirk.

Padding barefoot across the cool hardwood floors, Bakugo headed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He took a long drink, his thoughts wandering to his evening plans.

It had started as a joke, really — a whim born from boredom and pure curiosity. One night, he had filmed himself getting off, his muscular body glistening with sweat, his deep, guttural moans echoing in the silent room. On a lark, he had uploaded the video to his old Pornhub, expecting nothing in particular.

To his surprise, the video had gone viral. Within days, he had amassed thousands of fans, all clamoring for more. At first, Bakugo was amused. Then intrigued. And finally, he saw an opportunity. He was a hot man — he knew that. And if people wanted to watch him, if it made them happy and he enjoyed it too, then why not?

With the success of his initial video, Bakugo had created an OnlyFans account, eager to capitalize on his newfound popularity. It had been an instant hit. Fans flocked to his page, eager to pay for the privilege of seeing him in more intimate, exclusive settings. The subscriptions rolled in, and Bakugo found himself enjoying the attention, the adoration. It was a different kind of thrill, but a thrill nonetheless.

Bakugo set the water bottle down and made his way to his bedroom. The room was dominated by a large, king-sized bed draped in dark, luxurious linens. A camera was set up on a tripod in one corner, pointed directly at the bed. He moved with confidence, stripping off his clothes and tossing them aside. Naked, he admired his reflection in the full-length mirror. His body was a testament to years of rigorous training — every muscle defined, every inch a work of art.

With practiced ease, Bakugo positioned himself on the bed, adjusting the camera angle until he was satisfied. He grabbed a small remote from the nightstand and turned on the camera. The red light blinked to life, and he took a deep breath, letting the anticipation build. This was his stage, his audience waiting eagerly on the other side of the screen.

He opened his laptop, navigating to his OnlyFans account. With a few clicks, he started a live stream, watching as the viewer count began to climb rapidly. The chat box exploded with messages, fans greeting him eagerly, their excitement palpable even through the screen.

"Hey, fucking perverts," he greeted, his voice low and rough, tinged with the cocky confidence that had made him a hero. "It's your favorite pro hero, back for another round."

He ran a hand down his chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. He knew exactly what his fans wanted, what they craved. And he was more than happy to give it to them. His hand continued its descent, skimming over the taut skin until it reached his cock. Already semi-hard, it twitched in his grasp, responding to his touch.

Bakugo leaned back against the pillows, spreading his legs slightly to give the camera a better view. He stroked himself slowly at first, his grip firm but teasing. He knew how to build the anticipation, how to draw it out until he was practically vibrating with need. "You like what you see?" he growled, eyes locked on the camera as if he could see his fans watching. "Bet you wish you could touch me, huh? Feel how hard I am for you, little perverts?"

The chat box lit up with eager responses, fans egging him on, praising his body, his performance.

God, you're so hot!

I've been waiting all day for this.

Take it slow, Dynamight, make it last!

His eyes scanned the comments, searching for one particular username: sweet_daisyxxx. Amid the flood of adoring messages, he spotted it.

sweet_daisyxxx: You look amazing tonight, Katsuki

A rush of heat surged through him at the sight of your comment. He smirked, a new surge of energy coursing through him. His hand moved faster, strokes becoming more insistent. Pleasure coiled in his belly, hot and demanding. He was stroking his cock from base to tip, picturing you moaning his name.

For Bakugo, starting an OnlyFans account had been a natural progression from his initial success on Pornhub. He'd always had a hard time settling down, despite his status as a pro hero and his undeniable attractiveness. His standards were high — too high, perhaps — and no woman had ever met all his requirements. His relationships invariably ended in one-night stands, fleeting and unsatisfying.

He had begun to find solace in the digital realm, exploring the myriad of content creators on OnlyFans. He followed the accounts of the girls he found hot, drawn to their beauty and charisma. It was a distraction, an addiction of sorts, but one he didn't mind. It filled a void that real-life encounters couldn't, offering a tantalizing escape from the pressures of heroism.

Then he came across your account. It was different from the rest. Yes, you were a camgirl yourself, you had a beautiful body, a captivating presence, but what set you apart was your approach. You didn't reveal everything, always touching yourself through the thin material of your lacy panties, always keeping your face off the camera, maintaining an air of mystery and intrigue while you played with yourself. Your streams were a mix of sensuality and intellect as you were trying to engage your small but dedicated follower count in discussions about literature, history, fashion, and the changing world. You were a tease, undoubtedly, but it was your depth that held him captive. Bakugo lingered on your page longer than he intended, entranced by your intelligence and charm. Your body was a work of art, but it was your mind that ensnared him. Not to mention you happened to be his biggest fan.

sweet_daisyxxx: Those muscles look even better up close. You're incredible, Katsuki

His eyes flicked back to the chat, watching as your other comments rolled in.

sweet_daisyxxx: That growl you made just now? So hoooot, oh Gosh... Don't stop

Bakugo was incredibly turned on, imagining the taste and feel of licking your cunny. Even though he had never truly seen your pussy, the lingerie you wore on your streams left little to the imagination, perfectly outlining the curves of your folds. He couldn't help but think your pussy must be the prettiest one. What sounds would you make riding his tongue? Where would you want him to cum? On your face? Mouth? Tits? Maybe you would want him to save it for your pussy?

sweet_daisyxxx: Wish I could be there to touch you, feel every inch of you

His breath hitched, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He could feel himself getting close, the familiar tension building with every stroke. His fans loved it when he talked dirty, loved the way he lost control on camera. And tonight, he was more than willing to give them a show. "Shit, I'm so close," he groaned, head falling back against the pillows. "You want to see me come undone, don't you? You want to watch me lose it for you?" His hips thrust faster into his rough palm.

He worked on his dick energetically, holding his balls tight in his free hand, squeezing them from time to time. He moaned from the pleasure radiating from his throbbing dick. He could almost hear his fans' reactions, the collective intake of breath, the eager anticipation. And that thought pushed him over the edge. With a final, desperate thrust, he came, his seed hot and sticky over his hand and stomach. It gushed and bubbled through the wet tip of his throbbing dick, leaving a slick trail on his toned abs as he continued to thrust into his clenched fist. Spurt, spurt. The sensation seemed endless. Katsuki's breath hitched with relief, and his hips finally began to slow. Though his balls were drained, they kept clenching, desperate to empty every last drop of his cum. His head rolled back, mouth hanging open as he panted through the final throes of one of the strongest orgasms of his life.

sweet_daisyxxx: Yes, Katsuki, just like that. So hot. You're perfect

Bakugo lay there for a moment, chest heaving, heart pounding. He let the camera capture every second, every twitch of aftershock. When he finally moved, it was with a lazy, satisfied grin. He reached for a towel and cleaned himself up, his eyes never leaving the camera.

But even in the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, Bakugo’s crimson eyes returned to the chat, seeking your username again.

sweet_daisyxxx: That was incredible, Mr Pro Hero. Can't wait for next time ♥

He smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction beyond the physical release. You were more than just another fan. And you intrigued him.

"Hope you enjoyed the show," he said, voice still husky with the remnants of pleasure, his words directed toward you from all of his fans. "I'll see you next time."

He ended the live stream and lay back against the pillows, a sense of contentment settling over him. This was his life — a hero by day, a star of OnlyFans by night. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Bakugo lay back against the pillows, his body still thrumming with the afterglow of release. The chat window on his laptop blinked out, and he reached over to close it, his thoughts already drifting to the next interaction he craved. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he navigated to his messages.

He found your name quickly — sweet_daisyxxx.

Your conversations had become a regular part of his routine, an escape from the relentless demands of hero work and the empty satisfaction of countless one-night stands. With you, it was different. You talked about things that mattered, things that challenged his mind and made him feel alive in ways he hadn't expected.

Horny_Dynamight: Wanna FaceTime?

There was a brief pause before your response came in.

sweet_daisyxxx: m’kay, give me a min

He waited, the seconds ticking by with a tense anticipation. Finally, his phone buzzed with the incoming call. He accepted, and your face filled the screen, your eyes bright with excitement.

You were seated in your gamer chair, the fitted black tank top you wore accentuating your curves. Your earbuds were in, and as you settled into the call, Bakugo couldn't stop his eyes from drifting downward, where the neckline of your top revealed the top of your beautiful breasts. The soft swell of your cleavage was tantalizing, and he felt a familiar heat stir within him.

"Hey, handsome," you greeted, your voice steady despite the underlying tension.

"Hey, hottie," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "So, how'd you really like the stream?"

You bit your lip, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "It was amazing, Katsuki. You looked incredible. And the way you touched yourself… It was so hot."

His smirk widened. "Glad you think so." He paused, studying your face, the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I was thinking, would ya like to join my next stream?"

You blinked, taken aback. "Join? How?"

He didn't hesitate, his response blunt and to the point. "For some nice fucking."

Your eyes widened, shock and excitement warring for dominance on your face. "Are you serious, Kats? I think I’m far outta your league…"

"Dead serious," he confirmed, his gaze never wavering. "We've been dancing around this for way too long. I want you on my stream. With me. In every way, Y/N. I can’t stop thinking about ya, for fuck’s sake."

You stared at him, the silence stretching out as you processed his proposition.

He wondered if he had pushed too far, if maybe he had read the situation wrong.

But then, your expression shifted, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Okay," you said softly. "When?"

His heart leaped, a fierce grin spreading across his face. He hadn't expected you to agree so quickly, but then again, you had always surprised him. "Tomorrow night. Same time. My place."

"Ok, but you’ll have to pick me up," you replied with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

When you finally hung up, Bakugo felt a sense of satisfaction settle over him. Tomorrow night would be a game-changer, a step into new territory that he was eager to explore. With you.

The next day, Bakugo's routine went by in a haze of expectation. His patrols were efficient but mechanical, his thoughts constantly returning to the evening ahead. He had spent the day thinking about it, every spare moment filled with thoughts of you, of finally meeting the person who had occupied his thoughts for so long. Katsuki pushed himself harder in the gym, needing the physical exertion to keep his mind from spiraling into endless scenarios of what might happen.

When the day finally drew to a close, he found himself back in his apartment, preparing for what felt like both a stream and a date. He made sure everything was perfect — the camera angles, the lighting, the room itself. And then, he drove to pick you up from the mall you set up as a meeting place.

Bakugo's heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves as he drove to the mall. This was the first time he was going to see you in real life, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

He pulled into the parking lot, finding a spot near the entrance. As he stepped out of the car, he adjusted his black, leather jacket, trying to look as casual as possible despite the literal butterflies in his stomach. He scanned the crowd, looking for you, knowing you would stand out even among the bustling shoppers.

And there you were, waiting near the fountain in the center of the plaza. You wore a girly white summer dress with a delicate floral motif, the fabric swaying gently with the breeze. Your white sneakers added a touch of casual charm to your appearance. As you spotted him, your face lit up with a bright smile, and your cheeks turned slightly pink with a blush.

Bakugo made his way over to you, his heart pounding harder with each step. When he finally stood in front of you, he could hardly believe it. You were even more beautiful in person. "Hey," he said after clearing his throat, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

"Hey, Katsuki," you replied, your voice soft and filled with excitement. "It's so good to finally see you in person, Mr Dynamight.”

He nodded, his eyes taking in every detail of you, from the way your dress clung to your figure to the sparkle in your eyes. "Yeah, it is."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you took each other in, the reality of the moment sinking in. Then, with a smirk, Bakugo extended his hand. "Ready to get out of here?"

"Absolutely,” you replied, taking his palm as if you two were a real couple.

He led you to his car, opening the door for you before getting in himself.

As he drove, the conversation flowed easily, just like it did during your calls. You talked about everything and nothing, the comfort between you growing with each passing mile.

Bakugo couldn't help but steal glances at you as he drove. The way your dress highlighted all of your curves, the way the sun caught your hair, the way your laughter filled the car with warmth — it was all purely intoxicating. He reached over, his rough, large hand resting on your thigh.

You glanced at him, a playful smile on your lips. "Can't keep your hands to yourself, huh?"

He smirked, his grip tightening slightly. "Nope. And I don't plan to, sweet doll."

His touch was firm, possessive, his fingers occasionally squeezing gently and brushing your soft skin as he navigated the streets. Every time his hand moved, it sent a shiver of anticipation through you, the promise of what was to come making your heart race.

Finally, you arrived at his apartment. Bakugo parked and turned to you, his expression serious. "You sure you're okay with this?"

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "More than okay, Katsuki. I've been looking forward to this, actually. I just… It’s been a while since…”

“Hush, no worries, I’ll be gentle,” he whispered softly, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing slightly against your lower lip as he gazed into your eyes. With a nod, he led you inside the apartment.

The moment the door closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted. The tension that had been building all day exploded into action.

Bakugo reached for you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, all the pent-up desire pouring into that single moment.

You responded immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

Your bodies pressed tightly together. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the raw need in his touch.

Bakugo's hands roamed down your sides, pulling you even closer until there was no space between you.

You could feel the hardness growing in his pants, pressing insistently against your lower abdomen as he pushed you on the nearest wall.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." His hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly as he walked towards the bedroom with you in his arms.

You wrapped your legs around him, the movement causing the bulge in his pants to press even more firmly against your clothed pussy. The friction made you moan, the sound driving him wild.

Bakugo kicked the bedroom door open, setting you down on the edge of the bed. He stepped back for a moment, his eyes raking over you with a look of pure hunger. "You look so fucking good," he said, his voice low and rough.

You blushed, but there was a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered teasingly, "Why don't you come over here and show me just how good?"

With a growl of satisfaction, Bakugo was on you in an instant, his mouth capturing yours once more. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your dress to caress your soft skin. He paused, taking in the sight of you in your underwear. "Beautiful," he murmured, his hands tracing the curves of your body.

You got up and reached for him, pulling his leather jacket off and tossing it aside before working on the buttons of his shirt. His skin was warm and firm under your touch, the muscles rippling as you pushed the fabric off his shoulders. He helped you, impatient to feel your hands on him.

Once his shirt was off, you traced your fingers over his chest, marveling at the hard lines and defined muscles. "You're incredible, Katsuki," you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

He grinned, his hands moving to unbutton his pants. "You haven't seen anything yet."

As his pants hit the floor, your eyes were drawn to the impressive bulge pressing against his underwear. He moved closer, his lips locking with yours in a searing kiss while his body pressed tightly against yours. The feel of his firmness against you, combined with the fervor of his kiss, left your head reeling.

Bakugo murmured, "You know what I want to show on the stream?"

You shivered at the rough timbre of his voice. "What?"

"Mostly eating you out," he growled, his hand moving to caress your inner thigh, "and fucking you until you can't think straight."

Your breath hitched, the bluntness of his words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. “Are… Are you sure?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes dark with desire. "I want everyone to see how good you can make me feel. How much we both want it."

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his gaze making you feel like you were burning from the inside out. "Katsuki..."

He kissed you again, hard and possessive. "So, what do you say?" he murmured against your lips. "You in?"

You nodded, your mind a whirl of desire and anticipation. "I'm in. Just…”

"Oh, quit being shy, doll. Just because you haven't shown yourself on cam yet doesn't mean you're a saint. We both know you're not. I still remember you moaning on the phone, telling me how you'd suck my dick during one of our calls."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing heart. "Katsuki, I... I don't want my face shown on the stream."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Why not? Are you ashamed of my idea?"

You shook your head quickly, cupping his face in your hands. "No, it's not that. I just... I don't think you want to be associated with an OnlyFans girl later. It could cause trouble for you. You’re a hero after all..."

His expression softened, and he cupped your cheeks in his rough hands. "I don't care about your fucking profession, doll," he said firmly. "I've developed feelings for you. You're more than a one-night stand for me."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making your breath catch. "Katsuki..."

He kissed you deeply, his lips conveying everything he couldn't put into words. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. "We'll do it your way. No face. I want this to be good for both of us."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "Thank you, Katsuki. This means a lot to me."

He grinned, his hands sliding down to your waist. "Now, let's make this the best stream anyone's ever seen."

Bakugo adjusted the camera one last time, ensuring it was angled just right. He made sure only a slight part of your neck would be visible, keeping your identity safe while still capturing the raw passion of the moment. The red light blinked on, indicating the stream was live. He turned to the camera, his usual smirk in place. "Hey, fuckers," he greeted, his voice low and confident. "Got a special stream for you tonight."

Immediately, the chat exploded with messages, the viewers' excitement palpable even through the screen.

Bakugo! Who's the girl?

Is this for real? Bakugo's got someone with him?

Holy shit, this is gonna be epic!

Introduce her! What's her name?!!

Is she your girlfriend?!! omg Dynamight has a gf? I’m heartbroken!!!

We need details, Dynamight!

Bakugo glanced at the comments, his smirk widening as he saw the flood of questions about you. He enjoyed the attention. "Calm down, fucking idiots," he said, his voice a growl that only seemed to stoke the fire in the chat. "You'll get what you came for. That’s all. My girlfriend’s face stays out of the frame. Got it?"

You gasped as you realized he called you his girlfriend.

The chat buzzed even more, curiosity and excitement mingling in the rapid-fire messages.

Why hide her face?

Is she that shy?

Come on, Bakugo, just a glimpse!

Gosh, he said she is his gf, rip to my feelings :(

Damn, this is hot already

Just fuck that cunt already man

Ignoring the more insistent demands, Bakugo turned to you, his crimson eyes dark with desire. He leaned in, his rough, large hand resting on your thigh as he whispered in your ear. "Ready to give them a show?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "More than ready...."

With a growl of satisfaction, Bakugo's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce and demanding. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under the hem of your dress and slowly lifting it over your head. “Lay down and relax,” he commanded in a whisper.

The cool air hit your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, but his touch quickly warmed you up. You obliged and lay down on his bed.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the dress off completely, tossing it aside before capturing your lips again. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve with a desperate need.

You could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your underwear, his fingers tracing the lines of your body with an intensity that made your head spin.

Bakugo's hands moved to your back, deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it to the floor. He pulled back slightly, his eyes raking over you with a look of pure hunger. "So fucking beautiful," he murmured, his hands moving to cup your breasts.

You gasped as his rough palms squeezed them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your back arching slightly in response. He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck as he continued to fondle your breasts, his touch both firm and gentle.

"Katsuki," you moaned quietly, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, the anticipation of what was to come making your body ache with need.

His mouth moved lower, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck to your collarbone. "I want to make you feel so good," he growled against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. "I want everyone to see how much you need this."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with desire.

His hands continued to explore, one moving to your waist while the other remained on your breast, squeezing and teasing your nipple. Bakugo's mouth soon found your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before sucking it into his mouth.

You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his hands and mouth working together to drive you to the edge.

The camera captured every moment, the slight part of your neck and the intensity of Bakugo's actions visible to his eager audience. The thought of being watched only heightened your arousal, the exhibitionism adding a new layer of excitement to the experience.

The chat was a blur of comments, the viewers enraptured by the display.

Damn, she's loving it!

Bakugo, you're a beast!

This is insane! More, more!

I can't take my eyes off this

Lucky girl, getting all of Dynamight’s attention

Bakugo pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a look of pure desire. "I can't wait any longer," he growled, his hands moving to the waistband of your panties. He leaned forward, caught the waistband with his teeth and slid them down your legs, the fabric pooling on the bed as he knelt between your legs. He kissed his way up your thigh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. "I'm going to make you come so hard on my fucking mouth," he promised, his breath hot against your skin. "And everyone is going to see how much you love it."

He pushed your legs further apart, exposing your glistening folds to the camera. The sight was mesmerizing, your arousal clear and inviting. Bakugo's eyes darkened with hunger as he took in the view, his fingers gently parting your folds to give the viewers a better look. "Look at that," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "So fucking pretty, and all fucking mine."

The chat went wild, the viewers unable to contain their excitement.

OMG, her pussy is beautiful ♥♥♥

Bakugo, you're a lucky bastard! I’m so gay for that bitch

This is the hottest thing I've ever seen

Look at those curves!

I can't believe this is happening live!

Ignoring the comments, Bakugo leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive folds.

Your pussy was tight and firm. It was flushed with your desire, and its lips were damp with your slickness.

Your scent filled his nostrils and Bakugo growled as his cock twitched in his boxers, aching to be freed.

The first touch of his tongue sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, your back arching as you cried out his name. His mouth worked expertly, his tongue and lips finding every sensitive spot as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue reached out and gently licked from the bottom of one side up to the top. He flicked the pearl of your clit and then licked back up the other side of your lips before flicking it again. Bakugo placed his tongue at the base of your slit and slid it up between your puffy lips. He tasted and felt your juices pool on his flexed tongue as it slid up.

You tasted so good, so sweet.

His lips closed over your clitoris and he sucked on it, drawing a gasp from you and a buck of your hips. Bakugo pulled your pussy lips into his mouth and sucked hard on them. His warm tongue went as far inside you as he could reach.

Your juices coated his chin.

He slid his mouth back up to your clit and eased a finger inside you. He growled against you, the vibrations making your legs shake.

Your lips parted slightly as his thick, rough middle finger slid in between the folds of your pussy.

It reached in and he curled it up till he hit the top of your pussy. He yet again sucked your clit into his lips hard.

Suddenly, your legs squeezed together, trembling. “Katsuki,” you whined, arching your back.

Katsuki sucked hard on your clit, his teeth teased it and he flicked it with the tip of his tongue as he slipped two more fingers into your pussy. Soon, they were coated with your translucent slickness.

He kissed your pussy lips and sucked up all of your juices. The nectar from your climax covered his face and hand. It was delicious and he smiled as he looked up from between your legs.

"Katsuki…" you moaned, your fingers tangling in his ash-blonde hair as you pulled him closer, the need for release almost unbearable as you ground your pussy against his face. Your body tensed, your back arching as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, your cries filling the room.

Bakugo didn't stop, his tongue continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were left trembling and breathless; your juices spilling on his tongue, overlaying his mouth and chin as he drank all of your essence.

The chat was in a frenzy, the viewers unable to contain their excitement.

OMG, that was intense!

Bakugo, you're a god

I need a cold shower after this

More, more, more!

This is the best stream ever Shhiiit her moans are hot

Fuck, she super hot, you’re lucky, man

Bakugo pulled back, his lips glistening with your juices as he looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. Bakugo stood up, his hands moving to the waistband of his black Calvin Klein boxers as he undressed quickly, his eyes never leaving yours. He stepped out of his underwear, his hard length springing free.

You licked your lips, the sight of him making your mouth water with anticipation.

He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs as he looked down at you with a possessive hunger. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he promised, his voice a low growl. Ever so slowly he pressed the leaking tip of his cock to the opening of your pussy.

"Ohhh fuck," you whimpered as Bakugo gradually penetrated your entrance. You sucked in a breath and opened your legs wider to grant him better access.

So slowly he pushed his cock further in until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Bakugo left his other hand at your throat as he began a slow pace, sliding almost completely away from you before plunging back in.

You moaned deeply, relishing the searing hardness of his arousal. Your velvety walls clenched tightly around him, drawing a slight widening of his eyes in response to your movements. His arousal felt like forged steel as he continued to thrust vigorously in and out of you. Your desire had escalated to the point where it now glistened on the insides of your thighs and his toned abdomen, the soft, wet sounds filling the air each time he withdrew and then thrust back into your cunny.

Bakugo's lips captured yours passionately, his kiss fervent and insistent. He nipped at your tongue and the corners of your mouth, each bite sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you, melding the physical intensity with a deep, consuming heat.

A sharp yank on his blonde strands pulled his mouth from yours, and you looked into his crimson eyes. “Harder,” you begged.

Bakugo’s face transformed from an expression of animalistic need to one of desperate pleasure. He set a relentless pace, his hips driving into you with a fierce intensity.

Sweat began to slide in droplets between his shoulder blades and broke out over his forehead. A single drop fell from the tip of his nose and splashed onto your soft belly and you gasped.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the pleasure building with each thrust.

Withdrawing, Balugo moved back into your tight pussy with full force again, and again. He sunk his teeth into the red mark he had made earlier where your neck met your shoulder and moved his body roughly against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, somehow pulling him deeper into your pussy, causing small moans to fall from your lips uncontrollably.

"Katsuki, I'm going to come again," you whined, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure.

"Do it," he growled, his hips pistoning into you even harder. "Come for me. Let everyone see how much you need this."

With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm ripped through your entire being. You were trembling and quivering as Bakugo rubbed your slick clit faster and faster, making you squirm as you orgasmed. Your toes curled and uncurled with each movement, your pussy dripping wet as his massive cock hit your cervix with every thrust. Your breathing grew heavy, moans escalating in volume until you were screaming his name. Your entire body shook, legs trembling, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. Your pussy dripped, juices spraying the bed and Katsuki's abdomen, the bed squeaking loudly, rocking with the force of his thrusts as you squirted. “Fuck!”

Bakugo thrust madly, groaning as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock begin to ripple. He cried out a string of curses as his cock spurted in a mighty gush. He thrust thrice more, cumming with each push until he was absolutely spent, milking your velvety walls with his creamy, thick semen.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms subsided, Bakugo leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. "You're incredible," he murmured against your lips, his hands cupping your face gently.

"So are you," you replied, your heart swelling with affection as you ran your hands though his messy hair.

Bakugo gradually withdrew, his movements deliberate and slow, savoring the last vestiges of intimacy. He watched with a mixture of pride and amusement as his thick cum began to dribble out from your spent pussy, staining his bedsheets. His gaze was intense, capturing every moment with a fierce satisfaction. Ensuring that every second was visible to his viewers, he turned slightly. "How'd you like that, fucking perverts?" he asked his viewers, his voice rough with satisfaction.

The screen was flooded with emojis, exclamations, and messages that scrolled past almost too fast to read. Fans were expressing their thrill and approval, many praising Bakugo's intensity and the raw, unfiltered passion of the display. Some commented on the sheer boldness. It was clear that Bakugo's actions had struck a chord, igniting a fervent buzz among the viewers.

Wow, Bakugo you never disappoint! Absolute legend! 🔥🔥🔥

What a beautiful squirt! That was INTENSE! Way to go, Katsuki!! 💥💥 😱 Can't believe what I just saw! This is why Bakugo's the best! Dude, that was wild!! 🌋 Loved every second of it!

Loved that, absolutely killed it Bakugo! Can’t wait for more! Ur girl is fucking lucky

Bakugo glanced back at you, and asked simply, "So? Ready for another round?"

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader smut #mha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou scenarios #bakugo x reader #anime smut #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki #divider by cafekitsune

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neocitylights · 2 months ago

Text

SUMMARY: As you move into the building, your mysterious neighbor’s music becomes a quiet—and secret—comfort to your heart, enough for you to send them an anonymous letter. When you unexpectedly meet Mark, your connection soon growing between late-night conversations and shared meals, you find yourself falling in ways you hadn’t expected. Curiously enough, as your worlds start to overlap, you realize that there’s more to Mark and your mysterious neighbor than you’ve ever imagined. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 9.1k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes

Moonlight welcomes you home as you finish yet another long day of seemingly endless lectures, the gleam slipping through the curtains of your living room as you slip off your shoes, dropping the heavy book bag by the door.

The apartment is quiet, as you’re coming home a little later than usual, and with a chaotic day behind you, all you need is a hot shower, a warm meal and the softness of your bed.

As you’re stripping your top off, halfway through the bathroom, you hear it—the soft, slow notes from a piano drifting through the walls of your neighbor’s apartment and into yours. The mysterious, upstairs neighbor, as you like to call them now.

It’s not the first time that the music makes its way into your place. Even though you’re yet to meet whoever resides right above you, with an impressive array of instruments at that, you’re always delighted to hear them play, especially during days like today where you’re exhausted both mentally and physically.

Today, you can recognize the melody, but can’t quite put your finger on which song it is.

Making a beeline for your bedroom instead, you sink into your bed, half-dressed as you let the sound take over your mind. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brain subconsciously filling the gaps as you start to hum the melody along.

Your mysterious neighbor and their music had slowly become a source of unexpected comfort to you.

Some days, you hear the delicate strumming of a guitar. Other days, the lightness of wandering piano notes. On special days though, you listen to the bold, intense riffs of an electric guitar instead. Every day, you welcome it, each time feeling a lullaby meant only for one night.

With the music still playing in the background, you follow through your routine in an almost dreamlike state. The mysterious neighbor plays long enough to last through your shower, unknowingly kind enough to give you the joy of having dinner with your own private live performance too.

As it stops, the silence almost feels awkward.

You can’t help but innocently imagine your neighbor, just a few steps away as they tuck in the instrument for the night, completely unaware of their unknown faithful audience.

The day is already drawing out to be a chaotic one.

As you dash out of your apartment in a rush, just barely hanging onto your bag and the coffee thermos in your hands, you mentally kick yourself for ignoring the alarm an extra time, fooling yourself that it was safe enough just for today.

You’re already unusually late, and to make matters worse, you’d dropped half of your notes as you were fumbling to lock your apartment and the elevator’s seemingly taking a lifetime to arrive at your floor.

A sigh escapes from your lips at the familiar chime of its opening doors.

You can’t help the clumsy commotion as you finally step into the cubicle, head down as you try to organize the mess of crumpled papers inside your bag, completely oblivious to the current company watching you with curious eyes.

It’s only when you literally bump into them that you finally look up, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you start, stepping back with an apologetic glance. “I swear I didn’t see you here.”

The guy offers you a quick, friendly smile, shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he backs away, giving you more space.

With a hint of a chuckle laced to his voice, he shakes his head. “No worries.”

Attentively, you glance at him with a discrete side-eye—quickly recognizing him as a fellow neighbor from a few late night lobby encounters, usually when you’re coming back from school after TA days. He looks a little different today, hair shorter and a few shades darker, though the laidback, somewhat shy vibe around him stays the same.

Since you’re still rather new to the building and haven’t met a lot of people your age yet, you can’t beat your curiosity whenever he’s around. It doesn’t help that he’s also undeniably cute, with a quiet sort of charm that only adds to his character.

As the elevator’s doors finally close, you clumsily attempt to adjust your bag again, just for your thermos to clatter against the floor as you fumble around the attached keyrings.

It rolls around for a second before your neighbor swiftly reaches down to grab it, soon handing it over to you with a small smile. “I’m guessing this is an essential for busy mornings, right?”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered as your cheeks warm up. “You’ve got no idea. Sorry again, I swear I’m more composed than this.”

“I know,” he says, offering a nod as his smile grows bashfully. “I’ve never seen you around this hour, so I’m assuming you’re probably late.”

You pause, caught off guard by his words.

Given that you’ve only exchanged brief glances and polite smiles here and there whenever you met, it’s a surprise to know he’s observant enough to have noticed your routine at all. It makes you wonder if he’s noticed other things too, as you have with him.

“Very late,” you finally respond, offering a rather chagrined smile. “Not a very smart decision to ignore your alarms for a few more minutes of sleep, I guess.”

Visibly very entertained with your chaos, your neighbor shrugs as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “We’ve all been there, don’t stress too much about it.”

The elevator stops before you can reply, both of you stepping out into the lobby once the doors open. There’s a brief pause between you before he clears his throat, looking somehow both hesitant and effortlessly poised as he opens the building’s door for you to walk through first.

“Hey, good luck today,” he says, shooting you a sheepish wink as he nods. “It’s gonna be a better day from now on, trust me.”

Taken aback by the rather endearing attitude, you laugh, nodding back at him in delight. “I trust you.”

As you start the walk toward the station, you find yourself briefly glancing back over your shoulder, just in time to catch him watching you for a second before he turns around and heads off.

With the aroma of your burning candles spreading through the living room, your Friday evening falls to a quiet, hardly earned, peaceful break from work and school.

After a week of quizzes, readings, papers and presentations, it’s the first time in a while that you don’t have to think about the next assignment on your to-do list or papers waiting to be graded.

Under the dim lights of your apartment, you’re comfortably curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, savoring the brief weekend pause.

Almost as if they knew exactly what you needed to add to your little atmosphere, sensing just the perfect time, you hear the faint harmony of the mysterious neighbor’s piano keys through the walls. Tonight, the notes are slower, gentle, almost as warm as the candles’ flames.

Completely taken by the music once again, you only break out of your reverie as you spot your journal on the dining table. Suddenly inspired, you decide that it’s only fair that your neighbor knows how much you appreciated their music—even if you have no idea who they actually are, apart from the fact that they’re right over you.

Without a second thought, with a pen and paper in hands, you let your heart write.

Dear neighbor,

Even though I’m not sure who you are or if we’ve met, I wanted to thank you through this letter. I’ve heard you play for a while now, and I can’t tell you how much comfort and happiness your music brings me. It truly brightens my day, takes a weight off my shoulders at night, pulls me away from my hectic days and gives me a moment to just breathe and appreciate the beautiful things in life.

I don’t know if you’re playing for anyone, or if it’s just for yourself, but I hope you know that I’m always amazed by it and how much it matters. You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home. Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.

Gratefully,

Your neighbor

It’s already past midnight as Mark settles at the quiet studio, only a handful of people left in the building after a long day of brainstorming meetings for the next label releases.

Staring at the blank pages of his beat-up notebook, Mark starts to feel the fatigue catch up to his body, brain most definitely clocked out for the day as he can’t seem to think of anything but the annoying ache on his neck.

As he taps his pen against the crumpled paper, a small, folded letter rests neatly tucked between its worn pages—one that he might or might not have read at least a dozen times since finding it under his door a few weeks ago. Needlessly to say, Mark was nothing but surprised by the letter, moved by the thoughtful, kind words written by his neighbor.

Every time he reads it, a rather satisfying warmth takes over his chest, as if the person who’d written it knew something deeply personal about him without even knowing who he was, or even his name.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark startles as Haechan and Johnny burst into the studio, both laughing until the youngest notes his friend’s guarded face.

“You look suspicious,” Haechan starts, eyes playfully scanning the studio in distrust. “I hope you aren’t doing anything nasty around here. We use this studio too, you know.”

Mark rolls his eyes, closing the notebook with a sigh. “You really need to learn how to shut up sometimes, Haechan.”

Quietly taking in the scene, Johnny leans over Mark, curiously eyeing the piece of paper sticking out of his notebook, distinctly decorated with a red star sticker at the top. “What’s that?”

The two youngest follow Johnny’s finger, pointing at the notebook on Mark’s lap.

As Mark’s stomach drops, he quickly attempts to tuck the letter back inside, distracting his friends from catching a glimpse of it. “It’s nothing, just something I was scribbling on.”

“No way,” Haechan starts, turning to Johnny with the widest grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is that a love letter?”

“No,” Mark awkwardly cuts off, feeling his cheeks heat up under his best-friends’ scrutiny. “Who even sends love letters nowadays?”

Johnny scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would.”

“He fucking would,” Haechan repeats, eyes wide as if he’s having an epiphany. “Holy shit, you’re so corny, Mark.”

“I mean, Mark wasn’t the one making up excuses to stalk his mom’s employee every day, you know,” Johnny taunts, laughing when Haechan mocks an offended glance at his older friend.

Not able to resist their curiosity, knowing that he was eventually going to bend anyway, Mark sighs. “It’s a letter from my neighbor. Sometimes I play some music at home, whenever I’m stuck with something from here,” he explains quietly. “I guess they’ve been listening to it? I don’t know who they are but they left a letter to me a few days ago.”

Johnny and Haechan exchange a look, the latter letting out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is ridiculous. You got a love letter from your neighbor?”

“It’s not a love letter,” Mark argues, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of an… appreciation letter.”

Johnny nods, a knowing look taking over his face. “Can we read it? It’s fine if you don’t want us to, though.”

“It’s not fine.” Haechan frowns, a dramatic note to his voice. “What do you mean Mark got a love letter from his neighbor and we can’t read it?”

Mark does hesitate for a moment but ultimately hands the letter over to Johnny, watching his friend open the paper with careful fingers.

It’s funny to hear someone else read it. There’s a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest as Mark listens to Johnny’s voice say the words he’s read so many times by now, enough to have memorized it.

The letter sounds different—now that’s disconnected from him and no longer kept a secret, it definitely feels more real, more genuine.

“You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home,” Johnny finally reads, noticeably taken aback by it. “Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.”

Haechan breaks the silence as Johnny finishes, looking as impressed as his older friend. “Damn. That was…”

“Actually really nice,” Johnny completes, a little more serious than Mark expects. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

Mark shakes his head, taking the letter back from Johnny’s hand and tucking it back inside his notebook. “No idea. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Are you really fine with never finding out who they are?”

For now, there’s something about the mystery that keeps it just for him. For now, Mark thinks that knowing might change the feeling, make it somehow less special. Besides, if the future wants him to know, then he’ll probably know.

As his fingers tap the notebook, almost as if sealing the secret inside of it, Mark nods.

“Maybe it’s better that way.”

A few hours into the evening, the small venue is already buzzing with energy, voices blending with the smooth, laidback background music of the cozy bar.

Mark’s not a stranger to the place, having attended a few open mics before with Johnny as a sidequest from his actual job. Today is a special day though—given Jaehyun’s giving a surprise secret performance of his new EP, it’s only fair of Mark to show his friend some support, especially after having worked on some of his songs together.

Besides, as a genuine music lover he does enjoy the atmosphere, the rawness of live music never failing to lift his mood even when he’s tired and overworked.

At the back of the bar, Mark waits for Johnny with a pint of beer in hand, his eyes trailing through the place as he watches a few artists cycling through with their instruments here and there.

Out of all things that could possibly happen tonight, Mark most definitely isn’t expecting to spot you there of all places.

Just a few feet away, you step by the bar with your friends, chatting and laughing as you approach the counter to place an order. He holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to notice him as you briefly glance around. Convincing himself to play it cool, Mark swiftly turns his attention back to the bartender.

Just as his hand closes around his drink, he feels a presence stepping up beside him, a hand tentatively touching his arm.

“Hey neighbor,” you greet him, eyes bright in recognition as a smile tugs on your lips. “Seems like we’re running into each other everywhere lately, huh?”

Mark smiles back, feeling both glad and a bit nervous that you ultimately decided to approach him. “Seems like it, yeah. Though I’m a little surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“Why?” You laugh, surprised. “I know it didn’t seem like it that day, but I am a normal person, you know.”

“Shit, no, I don’t mean it that way,” Mark objects right away, wide-eyed as he fumbles with the glass of beer in his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been here a lot so I kinda know the crowd, I guess?”

You hum, moving to lean over the counter right beside him with a frown between your eyebrows. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves properly, have we?”

As you give him your name, reaching out a hand to him with an amused smile on your lips, he can’t help awkwardly taking the handshake. When the hold lingers for a second longer than expected, Mark realizes he’s holding your gaze for just as much.

Playing it off with a cough, he pulls back to clumsily gesture toward the stage. “So, do you know anyone… you know, performing tonight?”

“Not really. My friends found this place, I just thought it’d be cool to check it out,” you explain, curious eyes glancing around. “What about you? If you’ve been here before, I bet you know someone.”

“Yeah, my friend Jaehyun is actually doing a few songs tonight.” Mark rubs the back of his neck with a timid smile. “Just thought it would be cool to support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” you say, face softening with a small smile. “I’ll check out him too, then.”

He almost wishes you don’t.

Though Jaehyun’s got this long distance on-and-off thing with a girl he met during one of his concerts, the man is not only mad talented but also has insane looks, a combo that Mark’s seen girls fall for countless times by now.

Either way, he just smiles back with an appreciative nod. “He’s crazy good, you’ll definitely love his music.”

A call from your friends cuts the conversation short and as you glance over your shoulder, they’re waving you over with a handful of drinks.

You seem to hesitate a little, looking back at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I probably should get back to my friends.”

Hoping he doesn’t look too disappointed, Mark shakes his head. “It’s all good, it was nice seeing you around anyway,” he starts, pausing for a second before casually reaching out for his phone. “I was thinking if I could get your number? It’s fine if you don’t—”

You gently take the phone off his hands, visibly holding back a smile as you start typing. As he catches a glimpse of the screen, Mark chuckles at the door emoji added next to your name.

Before you disappear into the crowd with your friends, you give him one last glance over your shoulder, eyes locking onto his own as your smile widens.

“I’ll see you, Mark.”

The following days, Mark spends way too much time debating himself whether to text you. As a well-kept secret in his mind, he’s also been obsessively replaying your interaction ever since that night, a little taken aback by his own sudden interest in you.

It’s not like he hasn’t ever let his eyes wander whenever you coincidentally met around the building, but up until that night you were only that—just one of his neighbors, a pretty girl he happened to run into every once in a while.

Now, curiosity is getting the best of him and Mark can’t help reading too much into the situation.

Home earlier than usual, he sits at the couch with his guitar on his lap, though now long forgotten in his reverie. As he stares at your name in the contact list, Mark reminds himself that you gave him your number after all.

So he hopes that means something, especially when finally hitting send on the message he’d backspaced one too many times.

5:11PM Hey neighbor Just found this new place with crazy good food and music in the neighborhood Any chance you’re free tonight?

5:15PM Hi Mark! I’m so sorry I’d love to but I’m stuck at uni until late today Rain check?

Though the anticipation in his chest crumbles to disappointment, Mark plays it off. You hadn’t exactly said no, so he settles to make the interaction as casual as possible, just about to type a quick reassurance when another text pops up.

5:17PM Actually If you’re free, I could use some company here I’ll buy you dinner if you save me from work for a few minutes

No more than an hour later, Mark’s walking through the campus with two brown paper bags in hand, hoping that a classic combo is a safe enough bet for you to like it. Nearing the library, he spots you waving at him by the building’s steps with a growing smile on your face.

“Hey Mark,” you greet, walking over with curious eyes at the bags in his hands. “I thought dinner was on me?”

“It seemed like you needed a break,” Mark points, giving an awkward chuckle. “It’s not fancy or anything so don’t worry about it.”

The sun’s just about to set as you walk him to a nearby bench, in a spot secluded enough that there’s only a couple of students around, mostly rushing past without a single glance.

Accepting the bag from his hands as you sit down, your eyes light up at the sight of the huge burger and fries. “Mark, I could kiss you right now,” you start, taking a single fry as you grin at him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles, trying to mask the impact of your words despite the warmth spreading through his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hoped the basics were a safe choice.”

“This looks way better than I was planning,” you confess in between your bites. “You seriously saved me from going insane.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve asked what you study.” Mark frowns, trying to remember if he’s ever noticed something that could’ve hinted at it.

“I’m doing a masters in political science,” you answer, chuckling timidly as his face shifts to an impressed look. “I’m also doubling as a teaching assistant for undergrad, hence why I’m still here grading assignments and going crazy.”

“That’s amazing,” he replies, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do you like it? It sounds like hard work.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on the bench with a groan, momentarily forgetting about the food. “It definitely seemed easier when I was applying but I do love it. I’m also really good at it, even if my thesis runs me to the ground sometimes.”

“I bet you are.” Mark nods, voice laced with a playful touch. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you seem like the type who’s got it all under control.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m glad you already forgot about the last time we met back home,” you say, glancing over at him with curious eyes. “What about you? What do you do, Mark?”

Suddenly feeling a flicker of self-consciousness in the back of his brain, Mark hesitates for a second. Even though his job sounds fancy to most ears, people usually recognizing him as a writer of sorts, it almost sounds comical when compared to what you do. Strangely enough, despite his genuine love for music, it’s not the first time Mark feels small over it.

As he rubs the back of his neck, the answer sounds as ordinary as possible. “It’s kinda all over the place, actually. Mostly creative stuff, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued by the vague response. “It sounds like you’re a secret agent but can’t actually tell me the truth. Am I right?”

Mark smiles sheepishly, relieved at your easy acceptance. “To be honest, I feel like I’d be terrible at that,” he says with a grimace. “I think I’m decent at my actual job, though.”

You hum softly, seemingly still interested despite his awkwardness. “Well, you can tell me all about it later.”

As you effortlessly move the conversation by mentioning the open mic, not leaving your love for Jaehyun’s songs out, the evening soon settles upon you. There’s a whole lot Mark knows about you now—from your favorite songs to your favorite students, the places you dream traveling to, even childhood stories.

When you finally walk back to the library, it’s late enough that the campus is completely quiet. As Mark stands a few steps down from you at the same stairs again, a strange sense of comfort warms his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wait for you?” he asks for a second time, watching you with a hint of concern.

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused glance towards him. “I told you it’s fine. My friend’s already waiting for me at her place, anyway.”

Mark nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Text me so I know you’re safe?”

You smile softly, nodding back. “I promise.”

Moving closer, you lean over him from the few steps up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too short. Mark swears that his skin is on fire, the spot tingling even after you pull back. There’s a quiet pause before you turn around, giving him a final wave before disappearing into the building.

Pleasantly surprised with how comforting and fun the last-minute meeting with Mark was, the details of the night silently stuck with you for the next few days.

Though it seemed like a simple gesture then, you’d completely turned your brain off from the stress of your routine for a few hours, instead staying immersed in your own growing intrigue about him. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about your neighbor, leaving you craving for more time to know him better.

Admitting to yourself that maybe you do want to see Mark again, you also want to repay his gentle favor.

When you text him an impromptu dinner invite at your place, secretly anticipating his answer with nervous eyes glued to the screen, you’re most definitely not expecting a knock at your door just a few minutes later.

Despite the casual stance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, Mark looks slightly out of breath as he stands outside your place. “Uh—hey, neighbor.”

“Do you live next door?” you joke, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. “You surprised me. I was waiting for you to reply to my text first.”

“You caught me.” Mark shrugs, slipping his shoes off with a bashful smile. “Did I come too early? I can come back later if you want.”

Leading him inside, you gesture towards your small table, already set with the ridiculous amount of pizza you accidentally ended up baking to stress relief. “You’re actually just in time. Think you can handle the consequences of my poor measuring skills?”

He bursts into a laugh, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “Wow, this is… it feels like an italian restaurant in here.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I’ll let it slide because you’re a first timer around here,” you tease, pushing him towards a seat at the table. “Sit down, I’ll help you.”

Both settled in, as the food’s plated by you under Mark’s protests, the conversation naturally flows.

“So, I was thinking,” you start carefully, watching out for his reaction. “You said you’re into creative stuff, right? Does that include writing?”

Mark looks slightly surprised for a second, then opens a smile. “Kind of. I have this habit of writing down random thoughts, stuff that I see outside whenever I go out, you know?”

“Like journaling?” you ask, pausing between a few bites with your interest piqued.

“You could call it that.” He nods, thoughtfully running a hand through his hair. “Most of the time it turns to a few loose bits of stories. Like, scenes that play in my head.”

“I think I’ve figured out your job,” you say, giving him a playful side-eye at the visible tension on his face. “I’m pretty sure that you’re some best-seller ghost writer. Maybe a pen name writer or something.”

“I guess I can’t tell you then,” he teases, a contrast to his shy smile. “What about you? Aren’t you writing a thesis? That’s some serious writing if you ask me.”

Despite the excitement, you can’t help an exhausted groan at the thought of your own writing. “It seems easier than looks that’s for sure,” you reply with a nod. “Like I said, I love it and I’m actually nailing it… but I do have a breakdown over it every two weeks or something.”

Taking your answer as a cue, Mark unexpectedly tosses a few questions here and there, leaving you a little stunned at how effortlessly he seemed to ponder over your study. With him attentively hanging onto your every word, you almost catch yourself giving him a long-winded lecture about the subject.

“Let’s stop talking about this or I’ll never shut up,” you whine, noticing the food’s nearly done. “We’re talking about me too much.”

Mark chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You know I don’t mind,” he says, eyes wandering around your small place for a moment until stopping at your bookshelf. “I’m a little curious about what you’ve got there. Would you mind if I check it out?”

“Not at all,” you answer, gesturing for him to step closer for a better look. “It’s a chaotic collection, though. There’s pretty much a bit of everything in there.”

As he stands in front of your mess of a bookshelf, Mark runs his fingers through a few spines, attentively eyeing the titles. “I don’t really know a whole lot about books but I can spot some classics here.”

You nod, moving closer to stand beside him. “I haven’t read a few of these in a long time.”

Glancing over with a knowing smile, he gives you a playful nudge. “Any recommendations?”

Pausing for a second, you briefly mull over a few options before settling on a shorter one, the book's cover instantly earning a laugh out of Mark as you hand it over to him. Though as he reads the title, his gaze turns pensive and you can’t help a fond smile from growing on your lips.

“You can have this one,” you say quietly, Mark breaking out of a trance as he turns to look at you again. “Tell me what you think of it later.”

Mark offers a soft smile, tapping the cover with his fingers. “I'll trust your judgment,” he murmurs, eyes alight with a playful glint. “Maybe I should let you read some of my stuff, then.”

“Maybe I have already,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him right back. “If you’re a writer under a pen name, you could be the author of any of these books as far as I know.”

“I’m not that secretive about my writing, I promise.” He smiles, though a bit guarded. “I just don’t really like sharing all of it.”

The conversation lingers between you for a moment, your mind completely taken by Mark’s duality. As you try to figure him out, the lines that seem to draw his persona get more and more blurry.

Though there’s something effortlessly cool and laidback about him, Mark’s still shy and a little reserved. He’s guarded, but also somehow open to talk about anything and everything. In a way, it feels like a nice balance, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s any missing pieces to him that you can’t see now.

The sudden ring of his phone stops you from taking up on the offer of reading whatever he wanted you to.

Mark keeps looking at you apologetically as a Johnny talks to him, visibly frustrated with the conversation despite the usual easygoing tone lacing his voice.

When the call wraps up, he tucks the phone into his hoodie again with a sigh. “I'm really sorry,” he starts, sounding nothing but sincere. “Apparently something happened at work and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile dismissively. “It’s fine, Mark. I hope everything’s okay, though.”

Once at your doorway, Mark hesitates for a second, gaze softening as he turns around to step closer to you. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” He smiles, offering a firm nod. “We’ll talk later.”

With your face suddenly on fire, you dazedly return the smile, unsure of what to reply. “Alright.”

In the silence of your apartment later that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between you.

The aftermath of your last encounter is anything but ideal.

With both of you caught up in your own deadlines and work-fueled late nights, even the chances of casually running into each other around the building seemed to be far-fetched over the coming days.

While you were wrapped up in a blur of revised drafts and emails from your advisor, unbeknownst to you, Mark himself was occupied with the very same matter that interrupted your shared dinner, struggling with last-minute changes for an artist’s upcoming project.

Though there was little time between you, the tenderness of Mark’s promise still lingered with you, expectation building in your heart at the thought of seeing him again.

It’s still early in the morning as you wait for the elevator at your floor, relieved that another hectic week is finally over. As you silently plan to ignore your to-do list for the weekend to catch up with the last episodes of a show you’ve been procrastinating on, the doors open to reveal Mark already inside.

Leaning against the wall with wired earphones around his neck, he instantly straightens up upon seeing you, a sheepish smile curling on his lips. “Hey, neighbor.”

Offering a smile back, you step by his side with a gentle glance. “Hi, Mark.”

As you stand there for a moment, there’s an edge of hesitation that both seem to notice, then choosing to speak at the same time.

“Sorry I haven’t—”

“I’m sorry for not—”

Both of you pause again, sharing a surprised laugh for a second before Mark motions for you to go first.

“I just want to say sorry for not keeping in touch these days,” you confess, sighing apologetically. “I think you know already, but things got crazy with my deadlines and I completely lost the timing to reach you back after dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, offering a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m really sorry too, I know I promised to make it up to you but things just… kind of piled up. I kept meaning to text you, but something always came up.”

You nod in understanding, giving a meek shrug as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag. “It’s okay with me too.”

“So… what time are your classes ending these days?” Mark asks offhandedly, clearing his throat as he looks ahead. “Like, today?”

“Today?” you ask, confused despite your amusement. “Around six, I think?”

With a nod, his answer sounds so quiet that you almost miss it. “That’s good,” he mumbles, almost as if to himself before he glances at you again, smiling lightly. “Good luck with your classes today, then.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the lobby, again drawing the conversation to an end before you can answer. As you step out, Mark keeps a small distance behind you, a subtle hesitation in his step once you’re both outside ready to part ways.

You exchange quick goodbyes, each turning toward your own direction.

As he’s a few steps down the street, you call out for his name, voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll see you later, neighbor.”

Much to your delight, you do see Mark later—at your university, no less, waiting for you outside the humanities building. Though it’s easy to spot him, the button-up and tank-top combo somehow making him stand out, you can’t hide the shock upon recognizing his familiar figure casually standing around, offering a wave as he spots you.

You quickly close the few steps towards him, a confused smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God, it’s really you. I thought I was crazy for a second.”

Mark laughs, cheeks hinting a blush despite his nonchalant nod. “I was just around the area and thought I’d swing by to check if you needed company home.”

“I do,” you say, still surprised. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, glancing at you with warm eyes. “Ready to go?”

You hum softly. “Yeah.”

Still caught off-guard by his thoughtfulness, you’re most definitely not expecting Mark to quietly offer his hand out towards you. It’s a gentle, open gesture and though he does it very naturally, there’s a hint of apprehension on his face, as if he’s unsure of your reaction.

Without a word, you immediately slip your hand into his, heart thumping in your ears.

As both of you set off to the station, a strangely familiar sense of intimacy sets between you during the walk.

The subway is typically packed, chaos all around you with a mob of wide-eyed tourists and aggravated locals fighting for space, loud voices and chit-chat carrying out all the way through the tight space. At the end of a car, you squeeze into a quieter spot as Mark stands right in front of you, close enough to subtly tower over your figure.

Your eyes discreetly take in his frame, pausing at the glasses hanging on the collar of his tank-top. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses yet,” you say, raising an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this is just for aesthetics, Mark.”

“I kinda wish it was, actually,” he argues, grimacing. “I mostly wear contacts, though. I keep breaking or losing all my glasses.”

Carefully pulling them out, you reach over and gently place the glasses on his face, regarding him for a second with a grin. “It looks cute, you should wear them more.”

As if he needs something to do with his hands, Mark adjusts the frames on his face, his cheeks heating up in a faint blush. “Oh—yeah, I guess. Thank you?”

The playful glint in your eyes goes unnoticed by him, grin widening at how endearing his flustered reaction is. “You’re welcome,” you say, leaning in just enough to make him look down at you again. “The blush looks cute on you, too.”

“Come on,” Mark chides, huffing a surprised, timid laugh. “Don’t do that to me.”

As your curiosity moves on to the wired earphones still wrapped around his neck, your fingers graze the cord before you take an earbud, slipping into your ear with a pointed look at him. Mark instantly takes the hint, picking the spare one before reaching over for his phone, scrolling through until a smooth beat starts playing.

Absorbed into the music, you don’t even notice Mark taking a step closer to avoid the flow of people around you, one of your hands subconsciously moving to steady him by holding onto his waist.

The songs blend into each other for a few stations as both of you focus on the playlist instead, sneaking playful glances at each other every so often.

“So you’re a bit of a rockstar, huh?” he asks after a while, smiling warmly at the confusion on your face over his sudden remark. “It’s just that you seemed to vibe with the rock stuff more than I expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling back with a hint of challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I just like your taste in music.”

Mark chuckles, running a hand through the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, that kinda makes me feel good about myself,” he says, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I’ll link you up to my playlist, then.”

“Don’t pay too much attention to me next time,” you chide, feigning a frown despite the playfulness in your eyes.

He shakes his head, voice sounding nothing but sincere as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, raising your chin up just a tiny bit. “I’ll always pay attention to you.”

Just as his words sink in, the conductor’s cracked voice finally announces your station, leaving you silently grateful for the chance to collect yourself, your burning cheeks thankfully going unnoticed by Mark.

As he takes your hand again, you both move through the small crowd at the platform, the cool night air soon welcoming you outside over the short walk to the building. Though it feels shorter than usual, you still hang onto Mark’s stories with his friends, Johnny and Donghyuck, invested in the mischievous tidbits of their friendship shared on the way.

At the elevator, you stand beside him for a second time in the day.

Except that this time, leaving with a quick kiss to his cheek, you know exactly what Mark means to you.

Mark can’t help but read the letter a little differently now.

As an awkward mix of comfort and uncertainty grows in his heart at every word, not even the refuge of his studio feels enough to ease the tension of his thoughts.

The feeling that you’re the author of the message that he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of months comes with a weight that Mark hasn’t been quite sure how to deal with yet. The kindness laced to the letter already felt way too personal then, but now, it carries a sense of intimacy that feels directly connected to you.

It makes him feel a little silly too, realizing that you’ve entirely known him all along, nonetheless unknowingly witnessing the exact pieces that Mark held close to himself. Still, despite his ongoing conflict, he does marvel at the serendipity of the situation.

Lost in thought, Mark barely notices Johnny sidling over until the oldest takes a seat beside him at the mixing table, raising an eyebrow at the paper in his hands. “Reading the mystery letter again?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles humorlessly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “I know I’ve been too hung up on this thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Johnny huffs, offering an odd look to his friend despite the playfulness of his words. “You got a letter from a mysterious neighbor. So what?”

Mark pauses, clicking his tongue as he finally looks up at Johnny. “Actually… it might not be that mysterious anymore, I guess.”

Johnny’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, interest suddenly piqued. “Are you telling me you found out who wrote your love letter?”

“Remember the girl you saw me talking to at Jaehyun’s open mic?” Mark asks, fingers nervously fiddling with the letter as Johnny nods. “We’ve been kinda hanging out lately and she’s… you know, also my neighbor.”

His friend blinks, visibly impressed by the unexpected twist. “Damn, Haechan is right.” Johnny snorts, a knowing grin soon taking over. “Your life is fucking ridiculous, Mark.”

“I’m not really sure it’s her, though,” he counters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I think it could be. The way she talks to me sort of reminds me of how the letter is written. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ask her,” Johnny offers, as if he’s stating the obvious. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already talking to each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s just me wishful thinking?” Mark shrugs, a sigh escaping his mouth. “I don’t want to confuse her with my shit. I actually like her a lot, Johnny.”

As brotherly as ever, the oldest lets out a quiet chuckle, regarding his friend with attentive eyes. “You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Johnny chides softly. “If it’s her, great for you, but if it’s not, then it’s just a story you can tell.”

At the reassuring words, Mark turns the idea around in his head. Deep down, he knows that his hesitation says more about him than you—after all, finding out the truth means that he’s vulnerable, parts of him that even he can’t understand yet exposed. Mark also knows that you haven’t given him anything worth doubting your sincerity.

It’s actually quite the opposite, given he hasn’t felt so oddly understood and seen in a long time, despite how good he is at his job and how well he’s perceived by the people around him.

Considering Johnny’s input in the brief moment, Mark eventually nods. “I’ll think about it, promise.”

“If she got to know you as well as we do, I know she likes you just as much,” Johnny finishes, giving an encouraging pat to his shoulder. “Just make sure to get out of your head a little, alright?”

Taking one last look at the letter before tucking it away, nerves pleasantly buzzing in his chest, Mark decidedly acquiesces.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

The music starts almost shyly at first, chords soon carrying through the walls softly and unassuming.

You pause mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop as your brain instantly loses the next few lines of your assignment. It finally dawns on you that your mysterious neighbor has returned—at the same time as you realize that you hadn’t noticed their absence at all, for a while now.

As always, you can’t help but love the unknown melody though it strangely stirs something bittersweet in your heart, somewhat apologetic over not feeling their disappearance enough.

It makes you think of the letter.

Did your neighbor read it? What did they think of it? Did it mean anything to them?

It’s a given that your thoughts also wander to Mark, the significance of your growing relationship definitely not lost as you slowly recognize how his presence has filled so much of your mind lately, so much of your days.

It almost feels like the song’s tenderness is engraved onto your brain once it fades away, over as suddenly as it started. As the weight of the silence settles in, you feel stupidly torn between the comfort you’d found and the one you’d forgotten.

Mark 7:23PM Hey rockstar I’m home Kinda want to hear your thoughts on this Care to have a listen?

It’s an unusually quiet Saturday evening for you.

At the buzz of your phone, Mark’s name lighting up the screen for a brief second, you take a pause from your book. Though seeing his name doesn’t surprise you, given you’ve been texting back and forth all day, your curiosity immediately takes over as you read through the cryptic messages followed by a download link.

7:24PM You’re home? I hope you aren’t scamming me 😛

Since Mark had to suddenly cancel the plans you’d made earlier in the week due to work, you’re eager to see him, especially now as the university’s break nears by a couple of days. Before you can text him to come over though, another message comes through.

Mark 7:25PM Please listen to it baby

As your heart leaps at the reply, you’re quick to follow his request.

Then, Mark’s suddenly singing to you.

The guitar chords are unmistakable to your ears. It’s the very same melody played by your mysterious neighbor a few nights ago, except the sound’s definitely richer now, crystal clear with no walls in the way to hold back its softness. His voice feels incredibly tender, warm and light like a hug, almost as if he’s poured his soul into it.

A shiver runs through your body as realization finally hits you—all this time, Mark has been your mysterious neighbor, the very one you’d sent a secret letter to, your unknown comfort presence.

You’re not even properly thinking when rushing upstairs, urgently knocking on the door of the apartment right above yours.

As it swings open, one look at him is enough for you to throw your arms around Mark’s neck, catching him by surprise by pressing your lips against his. It takes a second for him to react, his own arms soon wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. As he blindly steps back inside, Mark kicks the door closed before deepening the kiss, both hands at the back of your head.

You’re not sure how long it lasts but when you pull away, both of you light-headed and breathless, it still doesn’t feel long enough.

With flushed cheeks, Mark sighs in a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Wow, this is… wow,” he manages, chest still heaving. “What’s going on?”

The dazed look on his face earns a laugh from you, especially as it pairs with his messy hair and disheveled clothes. Completely endeared by his reaction, you lean closer again, brushing a quick, feather-light kiss against Mark’s lips before he can even react.

“You’re my mysterious neighbor,” you start, voice soft with admiration as your hands cup his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s been playing music all this time.”

He gives you a small smile, subtly leaning into your hold. “You’re the one who wrote the letter.”

“This is crazy, Mark,” you say, huffing at the absurdity of the situation in both disbelief and amazement. “I can’t believe you’re the person I’ve been obsessed with since I moved in.”

His brows raise slightly, a teasing glint replacing the warmth in his eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me?”

“You have no idea how much I loved listening to you.” You smile unabashedly, fingertips gently brushing at his cheeks. “I was always so happy whenever I came home and you’d just start playing out of nowhere. It felt like you knew exactly when I needed your music, you know.”

As his face softens, Mark watches you for a second. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, voice quieter. “The letter you sent me… did you mean all of that?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

As he wraps his arms around you in the warmest, heartfelt hug, Mark pulls back just enough so his lips are meeting yours again, the slow kiss melting your body against his own.

Though pulling yourself away from Mark feels like a challenge, as you breathlessly step back from his hold, your eyes are immediately taking in every detail around.

Sometimes, you’d foolishly envision your mysterious neighbor’s apartment, wondering how different it could be from your own. So it feels surreal standing there now and realizing that everything feels very, very Mark. It’s almost like the place pieces together parts of him that you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

An entire wall of vinyls and CDs, a few collectible toys here and there on the shelves, instruments all around his living room—all of it explains so much about him.

Walking over to check his collection much like he did with your books, you shoot him a curious glance. “So you’re a musician?”

“You could say that.” Mark frowns, pausing for a second before he sighs. “I mean, I work with music but I’m actually just a songwriter for a record label.”

Your eyes light up, a gasp escaping from your lips. “So I was right when I said you were a writer,” you reply, satisfaction taking over your face. “Did you write the song you sent me?”

He nods, feeling surprisingly at ease despite having spent half of the day restless over the recording. “Yeah, it was me,” Mark answers, chuckling at your enthusiasm. “You didn’t tell me what you’d think of it yet.”

“Are you kidding? The fact you’re my mysterious neighbor wasn’t the only thing that made me attack you just now,” you joke as he bursts into a laugh. “I do wonder who it was about, though.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “You think I’m going to tell you that easily?”

With a knowing grin, you silently turn back to scanning the rows of albums in his shelves again. As he steps behind you, Mark specifically reaches out for a CD, your eyes curiously scanning the cover.

“It’s only fair giving you a recommendation too, right?” he muses, smiling gently. “A rock classic for a rockstar seems fitting enough.”

The subtle implication laced to his words make your smile widen, album still in your hands as you glance at him over your shoulder. “Would you sing it for me if I asked?”

Mark hesitates, though seemingly more out of confusion than anything else. “Like… right now?”

As you turn around to face him, there’s a hint of reassurance on your face. “You don’t really have to, but I’d love to hear it with no walls between us this time.”

There’s a touch of confidence to the way Mark leads you to his couch, a hand on the small of your back until he settles beside you with a guitar on his lap. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen him, dark hair sitting above his eyes and glasses perched on his nose, the little moles on his face calling you for a kiss.

The silence between you is soon filled by the guitar, Mark strumming the familiar melody with an ease that you can’t help amaze at. The softness of his voice embraces you again, anticipation growing with every word between your shared glances.

With the last chord drawing the song to a close, you’re the one pulling the guitar away before leaning over, kissing Mark again as he welcomes you closer.

“So, you and me,” he starts, nose brushing against yours as you hum, smiling against his mouth. “Are we really doing this? For real now?”

Your heart has never felt so full and assured, no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

The crowd’s applause slowly settles as Mark leaves the stage.

There’s a mix of adrenaline and contentment simmering in his chest, heart still racing as he clutches his guitar closer, taking one last look at the familiar atmosphere—for the first time, not as a mere spectator, but as a performer.

As your voice breaks through his high, Mark turns around just in time to put the guitar away before you leap into his arms, kissing him so deeply as if you haven’t seen him for weeks.

A wide smile takes over your face once pulling away, excitement practically spilling over from your eyes. “Oh my God, you were so good!”

He grins, instinctively reaching for your waist to hold you close. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you gush, expression softening for a second. “I’m so proud of you, baby. It was really incredible, you killed it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” he confesses gently, a contrast to his firm gaze. “If you hadn’t insisted so much… I think I’d still be stuck in my head about it, you know.”

“You were the one up there performing, not me,” you argue, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It was all you, your music and your talent.”

Mark shakes his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth as he closes his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for not letting me give up on this.”

As you pull back from his hold to meet his eyes, a playful smile curls on your lips. “I take my thanks in the form of take-out.”

He just laughs, nodding softly. “Let’s go home, then.”

Just like that, under a galaxy of stars in the sky and the warmth of a summer evening, Mark lets you guide him back home.

EXTRA: LOVERS ROCK | MASTERLIST

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct fanfic #mark lee fanfic #neocitylights

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yooniivrse · 2 months ago

Text

bouquet | myg

summary. every day with you serves as a reminder that you are, in fact, the best thing that has happened to him

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationsip au, fluff

word count: 1.3k

content: oc buys yoongi flowers / my man is whipped

warnings: none <333

notes: u can find the post explaining how i imagine yoongi and oc’s apartment here (in case u wanna visualise it better) likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333

────

main masterlist

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The fresh scent of flowers tickles your nose as you hold the bouquet close to your chest. You can't help but pride yourself in your selection as you admire the pale colours that caress each petal; an arrangement of pinks the same shade as the blush you often find creeping across your cheeks, oranges that mimic the morning sky on a winter day, yellows that remind you of the sunshine that warms your eyelids as you lie in bed during summer, and whites that reflect the hue of the moon.

It may not be perfect, but it's just right for your boyfriend — this you're sure of. Because it's Yoongi who causes your blushes and watches the sunrise with you in his arms despite the chilly weather; it's Yoongi who convinces you to stay in bed for "just a bit longer", until the day is almost gone but it doesn't feel wasted because it was spent with him.

Yoongi illuminates the dark skies that often haunt you, lighting up even your dullest days in his own way. And he whispers sweet nothings in your ear at night as if they're words from the moon itself.

Getting Yoongi flowers wasn't something you set out in the morning intending to do. You had come across the bouquets on your way back home from work, catching sight of them in the window of a quaint flower shop tucked in the corner of a street. It still baffles you how you had managed to not see the building for so long despite knowing the street like the back of your hand.

It was hard to miss too, given the amount of intricately put together bouquets wrapped in parchment paper and potted plants that were displayed on wooden stands just outside. They spilt out across the sidewalk, painting the grey town with the pop of colour it desperately needed.

You don't know what it was, but nothing had felt more right for you to do at that moment. So you marched in and paid an outrageous amount of money without a second thought.

And now, here you were — unable to hide the smile on your face despite the burn on your cheeks — watching the elevator ascend to the floor of your apartment. The pixelated numbers seemed to be moving slower than usual today, but you didn't linger on it for too long.

Eventually, the steel doors part to let you out, and you walk down the empty hallway to your apartment. It's a struggle to unlock the door with the flowers in one hand and your tote bag flimsily slung around your other shoulder, but you manage.

The door opens with a familiar creak and you step inside.

The immediate aroma of food that hits you is sudden, but also mouth-watering. You make your way down to the source of the smell — the kitchen — to find Yoongi working away at the stove.

A short towel hands around his neck, catching the droplets of water that fall from the ends of his hair. A loose, black t-shirt hangs on his figure, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. He hums an oddly staccato tune to himself, completely immersed in whatever he's cooking.

"Hi."

Yoongi's gaze immediately moves from the dish in front of him to you, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hello." He meets your eyes for a brief second before moving down to the flowers. He quirks an eyebrow, lifting his gaze again. "Special occasion?"

"No. I got them for you...just because," you reply with a shrug, walking over to him with the bouquet outstretched in your hands.

"Oh. I- Thank you." You don't fail to catch the tint of pink that creeps across his skin, slowly becoming prominent around the tips of his ears as he takes the flowers from your hand.

He stares at the arrangement for a few seconds, and you feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. He would like them, right?

"So, whatcha cooking?" you ask, eyeing the pot of noodles. A small pile of thinly cut cucumber rests on a cutting board just beside the stove, but before you can take in everything else displayed across the marble, Yoongi's lips are on yours.

You melt into the kiss almost instantly. Your heart soars in your chest and the nerves in your stomach wash away, only to be replaced by the erratic flutter of butterflies.

Yoongi tastes faintly of mint and love, and the pressure of his kiss is slightly stronger than usual — as if he's reminding you of who his heart belongs to, even though you're already well aware.

The feeling of knowing that you're loved is almost overwhelming, but you bask in it, unable to stop your lips from spreading into a smile against his mouth.

"God, I love you so much," Yoongi mumbles as he pulls back, tenderly moving a few strands of your hair behind your ear, and you giggle at his words.

"I love you too, baby," you reply. His eyes crinkle into soft crescent moons, and he places another peck against your lips.

"Where do you think we should put it?" He does a quick scan of the room and you follow his movements. The coffee table would've been your first option, but it's occupied by the flowers he got you on your most recent date.

"Hmm." Your eyes move down the room. "I think it should look fine in the bedroom."'

Yoongi hums in agreement. "You're right. I'll put them here for now, 'cause I'm fucking starving right now."

"Oh my God, same," you reply as he places the bouquet on the marble island behind him. "What are you making anyway?"

"Just jajangmyeon. You mentioned wanting it last night, so I thought I'd make it for you. Didn't want you to get food poisoning like last time when we went to that sketchy restaurant."

"You're amazing," you say, loudly kissing him on the cheek. "I was literally craving it all day today."

Yoongi lets out a soft chuckle. "I knew you would be. Don't worry, it'll be ready pretty soon."

"I'll go get changed then. Don't burn down the house!"

"That's rich coming from you," he says with a snort.

You feign innocence with a shrug. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm, sure you don't."

As you leave the kitchen, your laughter still echoing in the room, Yoongi lingers by the bouquet. A feeling of warmth blooms across his skin, and he's sure that it has nothing to do with the stove.

Even as he continues to stir the noodles, the only thing he is focused on is the single thought in his head.

You really are the best thing that has happened to him.

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reiderwriter · 5 months ago

Note

ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

“Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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adragonprinceswhore · 2 months ago

Text

Romancer

Aemond Targaryen x Wife

Summary: During King Aegon II tumultuous coronation, Aemond’s wife becomes the first casualty of the Targaryen civil war. The young prince’s grief drives him to Flea Bottom, where he meets a mysterious Qartheen necromancer, who promises to bring his love back. But as with any sorcery, there is a price to pay; with each of Aemond’s touches, she slowly rots away.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, death, violence, sorcery, necromancy, angst, longing, smut

A/N: Happy Halloween! 🖤

Word count: 4200

‘Twas but a fleeting instance.

A dragon, the Red Queen, and her traitorous rider burst through the floors of King Aegon II’s coronation.

Chaos followed. Shrill voices begging for mercy, children weeping, sobbed ramblings closer to nonsense than prayers.

Prince Aemond, whose seeing eye had been fixed on his wife before the tumultuous entrance of Rhaenys Targaryen, steps to the side to protect his sister from Meleys’ wrath.

When their cowardice wins, and the dragon and her rider leaves, his seeing eye falls back to where he had last seen his beloved.

Only now, he cannot find her.

As members of the King’s guard swarm around the royal family to protect them, a futile gesture far overdue, Aemond pushes between them to rush down the steps of the elevated platform made for the Targaryens to bask in the admiring gazes of their people.

She couldn't have left, she was here just moments ago.

His eye is frantic as it searches the soot-covered ruins around him. His silvery hair whips to the side as he desperately jerks his head from one side to another. Then, he catches sight of her hair.

She lies on the ground, pushed down by large stones crushing her body.

Aemond hauls them off with a strength bestowed upon him by his despair. A sob leaves his throat as he pulls her into his arms, gently stroking her hair, burying his face there and inhaling the dust decorating it.

He holds her until the heat of her body leaves her. Until she’s cold as ice in his grip. Stiff and strange.

Only once does he glance down at her, and to his horror, she’s changed. It’s not her anymore.

The soft cheeks he used to trace his fingers down are now hollow. Her skin is discoloured, and her eyes lifeless. Almost white, like the soul has left them and in its wake, a mist settles over the grave that once was a loving gaze.

Prince Aemond sits like that, with her lifeless, rigid body in his arms, for too long.

He cannot tell how many hours have passed, but he knows that he has lost a day when the sun appears, and disappears. It feels like an eternity trapped in the blink of an eye.

No one dares approach him. They know that the fiery prince will show no mercy to whoever chooses to disturb his mourning.

So he’s left alone in his devastation, until he cannot bear it any longer.

His fingers are blue from the cold air enveloping him in an embrace so chilling, it rattles his bones.

His love has also turned impossibly cold in his hold. Colder than the freezing, blue burn of a dragon’s flame.

When he can no longer withstand the chill, he finally stands. His legs almost give in and every inch of his body hurts. Still, he persists, never letting his love fall to the ground as he keeps a secure hold around her.

She is heavier than anything he’s ever carried before. He knows her, and this is not her. How many times had he not lifted her onto their bed? Pulled her in his lap? This sack of flesh weighs far more than she ever did, and yet he cannot let go. So he persits, and carries her to their chambers, sacrificing his own aching limbs in the process.

When he thinks he might pass out from the effort, he reaches their marital bed, and lays her on top of it.

Tenderly, he places her arms on her stomach, brushes her hair from her face, and closes her eyes.

She’s merely sleeping, nothing more. Nothing permanent, nothing everlasting.

Soon, she’ll open her eyes, look up at him, and give him a smile that melts his heart. Until then, he carefully places a quilt over her, and lies down next to her to find sleep, as husband and wife, just like so many nights before.

He finds slumber next to her, if only for a few hours. By the hour of the wolf, he’s once again awake, laying on his back, staring at the intricate carvings in the wooden canopy above him. In a moment of weakness, he reaches for her hand to hold, but when his touch is met by freezing cold fingers, he winches and quickly lets go, instead placing his hand on her stomach, covered by the quilt he’d placed over her.

His mind is too restless to let him find slumber. One hundred ideas, possible scenarios, flash in his mind. Thoughts of how to fix this; how to undo this, won’t let him rest.

The Seven say that death is final, but is that truly the case? Surely, in Old Valyria, where dragons roamed free and the practitioners of the dark arts ruled, warlocks would not be content with leaving death to the Gods?

Another day passes by as Aemond is deeply submerged in his own contemplation.

This cannot be the end of her; of their life together. His dear wife. His one true ally. The sweet mother of their future heirs. She is not gone. She cannot be.

By next daybreak, an idea from his latent mind floats into his consciousness, and causes the troubled prince to finally see clearly.

Necromancy. The art of bringing back the dead.

Fuelled by the fire of determination set ablaze within his chest, Aemond reluctantly leaves his lover's side, throws on a cloak, and orders a member of the King’s Guard to guard the door to his chambers with his life.

Before he leaves, Aemond throws one last glance at his wife’s lifeless form, and kneels by their bed, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek. ‘Tis cold and stiff, as he should have expected. Still, his heart breaks when his lips are not met by the warmth he so wishes would still flow within her.

“I will bring you a cure”, he promises next to her ear, and ventures out into the dark, bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Flea Bottom is as he remembers.

Filthy and depraved.

The mere smell of the streets corrodes the insides of his nostrils, air so thick with stench from pigsties and tanneries the prince buries his nose inside his hood and breathes through his mouth.

Around each corner of the dilapidated buildings lurks another distraction; whores beckoning him into their lairs, conmen trying to trick him into buying false treasures.

‘Tis not a place for the educated. Nor is it for the devoted. Flea Bottom is reserved for the lowest of men; the ones who revel in debauchery and make a living of their falsehood.

With the help of a few silver stags, Aemond manages to navigate the dirt-filled cobblestones of King’s Landing’s foulest corner. By the hour of the eel, he’s directed towards a short, stocky man with small eyes obscured by thick, bushy eyebrows.

At last, he has found what he’s looking for;

A foreign man familiar with the dark arts.

He smiles when the prince tells him of the task, cold yet amused, resembling a serpent,

“There is always a price to pay, my prince. What are you willing to sacrifice?”

“Anything”

“What if the sacrifice is your own selfishness?”

Aemond does not need convincing. He has already made up his mind. Without her, warm and comforting and breathing in his arms, he is willing to offer the sorcerer anything. The strange man inspects him with beady eyes that shine in the fire dancing against the stoney walls,

“10 gold dragons. And I will restore your lady once more”

In the shadows of the night, Prince Aemond brings the warlock into his chambers.

The mysterious man does not ask for much in order to perform his sorcery.

He orders a servant to bring him boiling water, sage, dirt from the courtyard, and a small vessel.

The staff of the Red Keep work quickly, and when he has all he requires, he pulls out a short, thin dagger from the inside of his pocket, and hands it to his prince,

“A drop of your blood, your grace”

Aemond complies, and slashes the tip of his ring finger with the small blade. The warlock catches his blood with the vessel and proceeds to the bed, cutting the skin of the prince’s wife as well, mixing her blood with his. He adds the soil of their land, smoke of burnt sage, and water to his concoction before working his fingers into her mouth to force it open, and pours the brew down her throat.

Nothing happens.

Quietly, he leaves her bed to wash his hands in the basin by the hearth. He does not seem displeased by the fact that his magic did not work, or frightened by the dragon prince observing him closely.

Aemond inhales, ready to have the deceitful bastard executed, flames of anger dancing within his blood from the humiliating disappointment of trusting a common conman.

But just as he’s about to unleash his fury, he hears it.

A sigh, quiet as a whisper in the room, yet loud as thunder in the young prince’s ears, floats from their bed to where he stands. He whips his head so quickly to the side his neck hurts, and hurriedly walks towards where she lies, still with her eyes closed and in the same position he had left her in.

He carefully brings his hand out, shaking like the leaves of a tree caught in a storm. His eyes cannot see her clearly, unshed tears becoming a veil of relief over his eye. His hand gently grabs hers, and despite her still cold skin, he feels it, the drum of her heart, dancing in her chest and sending waves of thuds through her body. He leans in closer, wanting to whisper a greeting against her soft skin, yet is disturbed by the presence behind him he had nearly forgotten,

“We have not yet discussed the price, your grace”

Aemond leans back and turns to face the sorcerer. He wears the same wicked smirk as before, as if the prince’s despair amuses him.

Disgusting creature.

“You have your gold. You are dismissed”

“Oh, but that is not the price the Gods wish to see, my prince”, he says with a sickly sweet gleefulness that chills Aemond’s bones,

“Witchcraft angers the Gods. It mocks them. I told you your selfishness will be the price you pay, and They have agreed”

“What do you speak of? Spit it out”

His smirk widens, “Release her hand”

Aemond gently lets go of her, and watches as a bruise blossoms forth from underneath the delicate skin of her wrist.

“With each touch, she moves closer to the Stranger once more. You may have her by your side, but you cannot indulge in her”

Frozen in place, the prince does not answer. What will become of his life if he is not allowed to touch his beloved? Being beside her, yet so far away.

The man forces Aemond out of his thoughts,

“Will you settle for that, my prince? Being tempted by her every day, until you draw your last breath?”

“If that is the price the Gods wish to be paid”

“Hm. And you are content with a life without heirs? Without a bedmate? Or will you look for that elsewhere? Have another bed your wife, claim the offspring as your own?”

The question turns Aemond’s stomach.

“Watch your tongue, warlock. Or I will take it”

His icy voice does nothing but amuse the man further, whose lips draw even taunter as he feigns regret with a courteous nod,

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not mean offence. Surely, you must have considered all implications carefully to reach this conclusion”

In truth, he had not. But the thought of another touching what belongs to him, his most dear possession, is so repulsive to Aemond he swallows the bile pushing up his throat.

No one else may ever touch her.

By next morning light, she awakens.

Still in a delirious state, she asks her husband to come closer and embrace her, frightened by the visions she had seen in her resting state.

The contentment Prince Aemond feels from once again speaking to her; seeing her draw breath, seeing colour reappear on her cheeks, is dulled the separation between them, and the realisation that this is how they will remain from now onwards.

He tells her of it all; Rhaenys bursting through the boards, the necromancer and the price he paid to bring her back.

A tear falls from her lashes when he tells her that they may never touch again, for she will once more decay if they do.

With a forceful swallow, she pushes down her own sadness and nods, grateful that he loves her too much to live without her.

And so, their new normality begins.

They enjoy the same things they did before; taking their meals together, reading together, speaking of their duties together.

He had told court that her life was saved thanks to a skilled maester visiting from Oldtown, aware of the dangers enlisting a man of the dark arts carries.

Should the truth about her resurrection come to light, she might be sanctioned not only by the court, but by the Citadel as well, and thus forced back into the arms of the stranger.

In their endurance, their days grow tense, each moment tainted by the unspoken heartbreak of separation.

The most prominent change to their lives together is the longing squeezing the prince’s heart.

Never before has he ached so much for something as he does for her touch.

The pain inside his heart doubles when he catches her eyes observing him from across the table whenever they sit together.

She looks so devastated by their separation, so overcome with yearning.

He knows the feeling, ‘tis the same sorrow that reflects in his heart. And yet, there is nothing they can do.

Aemond would rather spend an eternity with her, and never once more feel the warmth of her fingers on his flesh, than to watch her get pulled away by the stranger yet again.

So he endures.

An unforgiving storm whips the Red Keep with vexed, rainy lashes when he returns from Storm’s End.

He is drenched, dripping from head to toe. His face looks haunted; as if he has met the eye of death himself.

She sits by the hearth, embroidering a small, green dragon onto one of his tunics. Her needle clumsily pierces the tip of her finger as she sees her husband’s distressed state,

“What is the matter, my love?”

“Lucerys, he-, he’s dead”

Aemond shakes from the cold of the rain soaking his clothes. With shaky fingers he peels off his leathers, until he is only in his underclothes, standing right before her by the fire to seek some warmth,

“I did not mean to-, Vhagar-, she-”

The explanations die on his tongue.

She meets his gaze, bewildered and pitiful, and nods in silent understanding, unsure of how to comfort him. Aemond sinks down to his knees, feeling the heat of the fire lick against his cold skin. ‘Tis little comfort; his bones still feel freezing. As does his heart, when he looks at her. So close, yet never close enough.

Torture, that is what it is. A cruel jest from the Gods.

“How can I ease your distress, my love?”, she asks, and he nearly whimpers at her sweet concern. If he cannot confess his suffering to her, then who?

“I fear I am a selfish man, after all”, he says defeatedly,

“Even now I miss you, when you sit before me. I crave your touch - to feel you near. To be inside you. I am not whole unless I am with you - part of you, my love”

The smile on her face is filled with sorrow, piteous eyes glimmering against the warm glow of the hearth. She shuffles in her seat, pulls her hand out, and opens it in an inviting gesture,

“I can spare a few years in my elderly days if I may feel your touch for one more night, my love”

And who is he to deny his love?

To dismiss her sweet pleas?

He would never deny her anything.

He moves forward, crawling towards where she sits like the depraved hound he is. When he reaches her, he pulls the skirts of her small clothes up to reveal the soft meat of her things, and lays his head there, only for a moment.

A sigh escapes him, so content to feel her softness against his cheek once more. ‘Tis like finding salvation after a life in sin; an otherworldly experience.

He nuzzles into her skin, and she brings one hand to the side of his face, gently tracing his cheekbone and threading the silk of his hair between her fingers. After a moment of still devotion, he pushes the fabric further up to kiss her cunny, the only drink his parched lips crave.

A startled gasp echoes above him, and the hand she carefully stroked his hair with turns into a painful grip. He adores the sting against his scalp. Hurriedly, he steals a peak from her, wasting no time to finally feel whole again.

Kissing his way up her panting body, he finally tastes the reward he had coveted so. Her lips are even sweeter than he remembered them; soft, warm and most comforting.

He stands and pulls her up to do the same, leading her to their bed with quick, long strides. He removes her small clothes as if he despises them, tearing the fabric and grunting at the layers separating him from the light of his life. When she is finally bare before him, he strips himself and joins her on their bed, finding his home between her thighs. She is so slick he slides in as if he were the missing piece of her incomplete body, and they both cry out at the all-consuming bliss of finally being together, being one, once more.

His arms snake underneath her back, pulling her so close to him each inch of her skin touches his. Their lips stay locked together, moans and pleasurable sighs bouncing between their mouths.

He cannot tell if the wetness on her cheek is proof of her own relief, or his.

Nevertheless, he kisses it away, closes his eyes, and disappears into the bliss of having her again.

They stay intertwined through the night, and by first light, Aemond reluctantly lets go of his love.

The light that illuminates their chambers is scarce in the early hours of the morning, yet he can see the discolouration travelling up the limbs of his wife; painting her legs and arms in odd, painful colours.

Their indulgence had cost her greatly.

Regret stabs his heart; potent and aching.

What have I done?

‘Tis as if the small dagger the warlock carried were lodged inside his chest, reminding him of the devious man he had become.

A kinslayer.

His bloodthirsty quest for selfish pursuits; justice, comfort, love, is naught but foolishness.

And now those around him pay the price.

Aemond makes sure to keep distance from her, and he suffers immensely from it.

On the night he came back from Storm’s End, he had found peaceful slumber in the arms of his beloved. Each night since, he is tormented by nightmares; visions of his worst fears playing in his mind.

Cold skin, blood, bruises.

He fears Rhaenyra’s wrath. The retribution he will have to atone for Lucerys’ life.

Will he be the one to pay it this time?

Or will the burden of his crimes once more fall on the shoulders of his loved ones?

Aemond does not need to wait long for retaliation.

Rhaenyra’s revenge go by the names of Blood and Cheese, a ratcatcher and a disgraced butcher. The pair snook into the chambers of his young nephew, heir to the Iron Throne Jaehaerys, and slew the boy in front of Aemond’s sweet sister, Helaena.

His hands are no longer merely tainted by the crimson of Lucerys’ blood. His pursuit for vengeance cost him the life of his nephew, and his sister, so lost in grief she can no longer leave her chambers. He only visits her once, horrified by the ghost of a person the queen has become.

‘Tis my fault.

And it echoes in the prince’s mind anywhere he goes.

When he trains with Ser Criston. When he flies on Vhagar. When he breaks his fast with his wife.

‘Tis my fault.

When his mother can’t meet his eye. When his brother sinks deeper into his cups. When his grandfather no longer confides in him.

‘Tis my fault.

The only light remaining is his dear lady wife.

She still regards him with love.

Her eyes still sparkle as he enters their chambers after a long day. Her mouth still forms a smile whenever he greets her.

“Her sweetness is wicked”, Prince Aemond thinks, “So inviting, beckoning me in, yet I must remain at a distance”

They still sleep next to one another, separated by an arm’s length. A small distance that feels infinite as he longingly steals glances of her sleeping form.

A siren calling to him, taunting him with her soft, warm flesh.

He knows that a night with her in his arms would ease his distress; allow him to find slumber and wake up as a better man.

I would be a better man, for her.

And that is the last thing he thinks before he shuffles closer, gently pulls her into his arms, and buries his nose in her hair.

If he were a better man, he would have stopped after one night. But by now, Aemond knows that he is not.

He is a self-serving, weak craven.

The first night of having her in his arms while she slept did not soothe the longing aching in his chest as he thought it would. It doubled it. And by next nightfall, he waited for her to drift to sleep before greedily pulling her into his arms once more.

He sees the toll his nightly indulgence has on her body rapidly. The bruises that had decorated her limbs grow darker, like those of an apple decaying. They now travel from her hands and feet, up her arms and legs, and bloom out over her stomach, chest, and neck.

Aemond finds himself looking at her less and less.

‘Tis my fault.

“Mayhaps we need to seek out the sorcerer again for council?”, she questions one day as she carefully observes the bruises colouring her body. She presses on one and winces, lips pulled down into a displeased frown.

She is withering. Rotting away.

“I will”, Aemond says, and the lie is so bitter on his tongue, he wonders if his foul ways have caused poison to grow from within him.

He had stolen Lucerys’ life above Storm’s End. A quick affair, an instance that he regretted as soon as he saw Vhagar’s jaw close around the small dragon. He did not mean to do it; to take his life. He only meant to seek justice for his eye; for the pain his nephew had caused him. For disfiguring him.

‘Tis what he has become known for; kinslaying. The merciless murder of the young boy who wronged him. If the court only knew of how vile he truly is.

With each night that passes, he steals another flicker of the flame keeping the light of his life alive. He sees her grow paler, the bruises now covering nearly every inch of her being, slowly working their way towards her heart, drumming weaker and weaker in her chest.

And yet, he cannot stop. He needs solace; the only good thing in his life. Holding her near, feeling the heat of her melt the icy bolts of remorse and guilt shooting within him.

Tonight, he knows it is their last time. She can hardly open her eyes anymore. Her lips are purple, skin a sick melody of various shades, and her heart beats slowly, as if it is fighting with each thud.

Just like the nights before, he lies down next to her, pulls her into his arms, inhales her scent, and closes his eyes.

“This time, she perishes by my hand”, he thinks, “She gave me everything, and yet I took more”

But what is love, if not to take?

Take and take and take, until there is nothing left.

No one savours love.

No one would ever feel satisfied with only a taste.

It is meant to be devoured. And that’s what Prince Aemond tells himself, as his love finally draws her last breath in his arms.

“Forgive me”, his whisper begs,

“I have devoured you. I have let my selfishness slaughter you. Now I await my own demise, one that will come to me soon”

His fingers gently dance over her cheek,

“I welcome it. I welcome a chance to meet you once more”

He holds her closer, feeling the warmth of her body leave for the second time in their lives,

“Until then, sleep well, my love, and I will return to you soon”

A/N; I hope you enjoyed this little Halloween fic of mine! I tried to go with a bit more classic, haunting and tragic theme, and it was so fun to write.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my fic Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back. It has very similar vibes and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Kisses!

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #my fics #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #aemond x you #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut

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mindmelter · 2 months ago

Text

Up To The Brain Floor

As a security officer at a high-end hotel, I spent most of my time sitting in the control room, eyes on the security monitors. The job seemed straightforward, but I had a secret duty too. My employers, so to speak, were an alien species in search of human hosts—and I was there to help them find the perfect bodies.

Like right now, I watched this hot tattooed hunk walk in the elevator, the man was stunningly hot.

The aliens were kind enough to let me pick the host bodies based on my judgment, and this hunk was just perfect host material. I smirked as I pressed a key on the keyboard.

The man didn't notice, but a small hatch opened on the lower part of the wall of the elevator, and a small alien slime crawled out of it. The hunk continued waiting, assuming he was on his way to the parking lot. But the elevator wasn’t going anywhere—I’d frozen it mid-floor the moment he stepped inside.

I would only make the elevator work again once the alien had done his job. I unzipped my pants and fished out my cock, I just love this part so much, I thought as I stroked my hard cock. I spotted the slime crawling on the man's shoulder, and then it jumped straight into his ear.

The man flinched, instinctively jabbing a finger into his ear, but it was too late. The creature was already worming its way to his brain.

His body suddenly jerked, slamming against the elevator walls as he struggled to remain standing. He threw his head back, his eyes were rolled back and his face twisted in a silent scream. My own breathing quickened, my hand moving faster on my shaft as I watched the scene, it was like watching porn to me. The man fell to the floor, convulsing as the alien took control.

After several minutes, the man slowly began to rise, as if testing his own limbs. He turned to the mirror, lifting his shirt to reveal those hard abs and massive pecs, running a hand over them like he was seeing himself for the very first time.

Then, he looked straight into the security camera, locking eyes with me through the screen. The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. He suddenly tugged his waistband down, just enough to free his impressive cock, smirking at the camera as he gave his shaft a few strokes.

With one nod, he signaled he was ready. I pressed a button, and the elevator started working again. I watched the hunk put his cock back into his pants and fix his hair in the mirror. The door finally opened, and he stepped out as if nothing had happened.

I was the only person who knew the truth. I knew he wasn't the same man who had entered that elevator. That man was long gone and an alien was now in control, and I had the video of the moment it happened saved on my computer.

I looked down at my hands and saw they were covered in cum. For that occasion, I already had a tissue box on the table. After cleaning my hand, I titled the footage "The Tatted Hunk" and added it to a folder filled with other videos.

Alongside it, I had "The Jersey-Bound Jock," "The Fresh-Faced Gym Rat," "The Burly Man With A Beard," and "The Blond Stud In A Suit" Each one showed the exact moment they ceased to be human to become a host, and now, I had "The Tatted Hunk" added to my collection.

I just can't wait for the next hunk to walk into the elevator.

#alien possession #male possession #alien takeover #possession

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redocity · 3 months ago

Note

Had a thought, where since buck is a God damn redwood, reader jokingly stands on a coffee table to look down at him and cup his face to kiss him and he absolutely adores whenever it happens

STEP-UP — E.BUCKLEY

you’re not exactly gifted in the height department, so you have to use a bit of extra help to reach your giant of a boyfriend.

evan buckley x short!reader | 1.5k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — oh to stand on a coffee table so i can kiss my tall-ass bf 😔✊

It started really as a one-off.

Buck was all broad shoulders and strong arms, a hulking redwood of a man who seemed to tower over everyone and everything. And you? Well… not so much.

You’d grown used to tilting your head back to meet his eyes, to stretching onto your tiptoes just to kiss him. But that one night, when something in the air felt light, fun, you’d found yourself getting creative.

It had been after dinner, a quiet evening in the apartment, the smell of spices lingering in the kitchen as the two of you moved through your usual routines.

He’d been washing the dishes, his tall, muscular frame filling the small space as you leaned against the couch, watching him.

Buck always made everything look so effortless, even something as simple as cleaning up, defined arms reaching across the surface with ease.

You shook your head, amused at the sight, and thats when the idea hit you.

As he returned, you stepped up onto the low coffee table that sat between the couch and the TV, elevating yourself just enough that when he looked back at you, for once, you were looking down at him.

It was barely half an inch, but you were satisfied.

“Whatcha doing up there?” He asked, chuckling softly, his voice rumbling softly in his chest.

“Just wanted to see what it feels like to be you for once,” you teased, stepping closer to the edge of the table. You were now eye level with him, something that almost never happened unless he was sat down.

He was so tall, so big, that it felt like half the time you were craning your neck just to meet his gaze.

Buck’s grin grew, his blue eyes twinkling as he stepped forward, standing just inches away from you. He wasn’t stupid—he knew what was coming, but he liked to play along. That was the thing about Buck; he had a sense humour to match his size.

You loved that about him, loved that despite his intimidating appearance, he was so easygoing, so ready to engage in your playful moments.

“Well,” you said, cupping his face with both hands, your palms warm against his stubbled cheeks. “This is how it feels to be tall,”

And before he could respond, you leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, tender, and for once, you didn’t have to strain or stretch or find some weird angle to reach him. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were the one with the advantage. When you pulled back, he was still smiling, eyes closed, clearly savoring the moment.

“How’s the weather up there?” he teased, voice low and affectionate.

You laughed, patting his chest. “Nothing but sunny skies,”

Buck hummed out a laugh as his palms splayed over your hips, although he didn’t get to bask in the moment for too long.

“Is that shelf always that dusty?”

—

That had been the beginning of it.

From then on, whenever you were in the mood to mess with him or just wanted to kiss him without feeling like you needed a step stool, you’d find something to stand on.

The stairs, a chair, even a curb if you were out walking. Each time, you’d make some cheeky comment about your newfound height, and each time, Buck would play along, leaning into your touch with a fond smile, like he couldn’t get enough.

It was as if, in those moments, the world shrank a little.

Buck’s usual stature seemed to fade, and the dynamic between the two of you shifted, becoming something even more intimate.

You could see it in his eyes, how much he adored it when you cupped his face and brought him down to your level. He never seemed to mind that you were taking a playful jab at his height. In fact, if anything, he seemed to love you more for it.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift at the firehouse, Buck came home looking more worn than usual. His broad shoulders were slumped, and there were dark circles under his eyes, the weight of the day’s work evident in every step he took.

You had been waiting for him, curled up on the couch, but the moment you saw him, you knew he needed something to lift his spirits.

Without saying a word, you hopped off the couch and walked over to the stairs, climbing two steps before turning to face him. He looked up at you, tired but curious, his lips quirking into a small smile despite himself.

“Again?” he asked, his voice rough from the long day.

“Come here,” You beckoned softly, your hands already reaching out for him.

He moved toward you, and when he was standing in front of the stairs, you reached up, cupping his face just like you had so many times before.

This time, though, you were gentle, your thumbs brushing over the scruff on his cheeks as you tilted his head up to meet yours.

“I missed you today,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss.

When you pulled back, you kept your hands on his face, looking down at him with all the love and affection you could muster. “Rough shift?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply, and when he opened them again, that familiar softness had returned. The exhaustion was still there, but it wasn’t weighing him down quite as much anymore.

His hands came to rest on your waist, holding you close, and for a moment, you just stood there, savouring the quiet between you.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s much better now,”

—

Over time, your little ritual became a balm for the both of you. Whenever things felt heavy, or when the world outside was too much, you’d find a way to shrink the distance between you.

It was a small, silly thing, but it meant something. It was a reminder that despite the difference in your heights, in your physicalities, you were equals in every other way.

You grounded him, gave him something to hold onto when the days got long and the nights got lonely.

One weekend, you found yourselves at a park near your apartment, enjoying a rare day off together.

Buck had insisted on taking you to this spot, one that overlooked the city and had the perfect view of the sunset. As the two of you walked along the path, hand in hand, you came across a low stone wall that lined the edge of the trail.

Without thinking, you hopped up onto it, grinning as Buck looked up at you, amused as ever. You walked along the wall, balancing carefully as he followed alongside you, his hand resting on your hip to steady you.

“Are you ever going to stop doing this?” he asked, though his smile told you he didn’t really want you to.

“Nope,” you replied, hopping off the wall and landing right in front of him. “Never,”

Buck chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground as he kissed you.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands held you securely. Even though you were back to being shorter than him, it didn’t matter. In moments like these, there was no difference. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, everything else fading away.

After he set you back down, you rested your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

His arms tightened around you, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was where you belonged. Whether you were standing on a table or two steps up, or just in his arms, the height didn’t matter.

What mattered was the way he looked at you, the way he held you, like you were the only thing in the world that could make him feel whole.

“Love you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Love you too,” he whispered back, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

From that moment on, every time you stood on something to kiss him, it wasn’t just a joke anymore. It was a promise.

A promise that no matter how tall the trees grew or how high the flames rose, you’d always find a way to reach him.

And Buck? He’d always be there, looking up at you with that same adoration in his eyes, grateful for every kiss you gave him, no matter how high up you had to go to deliver it.

#9 1 1 #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley fluff #oliver stark

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br0kenangel · 4 months ago

Text

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 2

Summary: after your last session with Aegon, you always feel him behind your back, when you were at home you could feel him here. And when your next session come, everything just got worse...

Warning: dead animals, just a little sex scene, minors DNI.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language and I wrote this at 2 AM alone in the home. So I'm sorry if it's not good, I was scared and I couldn't think. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 3, PART 4

That night, sleep came slowly to Y/N. The room felt colder than usual, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the window sent her heart racing. She pulled the blankets tighter around her, trying to convince herself that Aegon’s words had just been that—a mind game, an attempt to unsettle her. But the weight of his gaze from earlier lingered like a ghost in the room.

He didn’t actually watch me, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. He was just trying to freak me out, trying to get into my head. That’s what he does.

But as soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined him standing outside her window, staring in at her with that unsettling intensity. She quickly opened them again, staring at the window across from her bed. The curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, and for a moment, her mind played tricks on her, imagining a shadow behind them.

There’s no one there, she repeated to herself. He’s not here. He can’t be here.

She forced herself to roll over, turning her back to the window. But that only made her feel more vulnerable. What if he was watching her now, right behind her? She cursed under her breath, her skin prickling with the sense of being observed.

He’s not here. You’re safe. He just wanted to mess with you. That’s all.

But the thought looped in her head, becoming harder to shake. Every sound in the house became magnified—the creak of the pipes, the hum of the fridge, the rustle of leaves outside. Everything felt threatening. She tried focusing on her breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, forcing her mind to calm.

You’re a professional, she reminded herself, staring at the faint light coming through the crack in the curtains. You’ve dealt with difficult clients before. He’s no different.

But deep down, she knew Aegon was different. He was more than difficult—he was dangerous, unpredictable. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke about that dove, about watching her through the window... it was unsettling in a way that no other client had ever been. And that was what made it so hard to shake.

Hours passed before she finally drifted into a restless sleep, her mind plagued by half-formed dreams of shadows and cold eyes staring through the night.

The next morning, she walked to her office with a persistent unease in her chest. The street felt too quiet, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder every few steps, expecting to see Aegon trailing behind her. But there was no one. Just the usual early morning foot traffic—people heading to work, students with their heads buried in their phones.

He’s not here, she told herself again, quickening her pace. He’s not following you. You’re just being paranoid.

But every time she turned a corner, her heart leapt into her throat, expecting to catch a glimpse of his familiar figure. She tried to shake off the paranoia, but it clung to her like a second skin.

When she finally reached her office building, she sighed in relief, stepping quickly inside. The familiar scent of the lobby, the hum of the elevator, the bright, sterile lighting—everything felt like a small refuge from the gnawing anxiety that had been following her all morning.

But the moment she stepped into her office and closed the door, the unease returned. Her eyes immediately darted to the window, checking for any sign of movement outside. There was nothing—just the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the distant sound of traffic.

He’s not watching you, she reminded herself for what felt like the hundredth time. He’s just trying to scare you, and it’s working. Don’t let him get to you.

But even as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Aegon. His strange, possessive words about the dove. The way he described wanting to clip its wings, to keep it trapped and close. It echoed in her head, too close to how he might feel about her. She shuddered at the thought, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for her coffee.

Later, as the day turned to evening and she walked home, the unease intensified. The shadows stretched longer, darker, and with every step, she felt like someone was just a few paces behind her. She forced herself to keep walking, telling herself not to look back.

He’s not there, she repeated, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. It’s just your imagination. He’s not following you.

But the urge to turn around became too much. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, her breath catching in her throat.

No one. The street behind her was empty, save for a few distant cars and pedestrians.

Her heart raced as she turned back, walking faster now, nearly breaking into a jog. She couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how hard she tried. The shadows felt alive, watching her, waiting for her to let her guard down. And it was getting harder and harder to convince herself that it was just paranoia.

When she finally reached her apartment, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it quickly. Her hands were shaking as she leaned against the door, trying to calm her breathing.

It’s over. You’re home. He’s not here. You’re safe.

But even as she said the words, she didn’t fully believe them. Every creak of the apartment, every shadow cast by the dim evening light seemed to take on a new, more sinister meaning. She jumped at the slightest movement, her nerves frayed beyond reason.

As she sat down on the couch, she glanced at the window, half-expecting to see Aegon’s face staring back at her from the street below. But it was empty, just the soft glow of streetlights outside.

He’s not watching you, she repeated to herself, her voice barely a whisper. He’s not watching you.

But the creeping feeling of being observed refused to leave, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, Aegon was watching—waiting for the right moment to make his next move.

A week had passed since their last session, but it felt like months to Y/N. Every day, her unease grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. The feeling of being watched never fully left her; shadows felt longer, eyes sharper. No matter how much she told herself it was just in her head, there was always a faint whisper of doubt in the back of her mind.

Now, sitting in her office once again, facing the man who had been haunting her thoughts, she forced herself to breathe. Aegon was different today. His usual agitation, the relentless tapping of his leg and biting of his nails, was absent. Instead, he sat eerily still, his eyes fixed on the wall to her left, as if he was watching something that she couldn’t see. His lips moved faintly, a soft, tuneless whisper escaping them. She strained her ears to catch it but could only make out fragments of sound—a hum, almost like a lullaby.

The silence in the room felt thick, oppressive, and she had to fight the urge to shift in her seat, to break the suffocating quiet.

I have to ask, she told herself, steeling her nerves. You have to confront him about last week. You can’t let him think he can do whatever he wants.

She took a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep her voice calm, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. "Aegon, last time we spoke, you mentioned something… odd. You said I looked good last night… in my pajamas." Her voice faltered slightly at the memory, but she forced herself to continue. "I need to ask, what did you mean by that?"

Aegon didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes remained glued to the wall, his lips still moving faintly, whispering that strange song to himself. His hands rested on his knees, the skin pale and bruised, nails ragged from relentless chewing.

"Aegon?" she pressed, her voice tightening as her nerves frayed. "What did you mean?"

He stopped humming, but his gaze remained unfocused, distant, as if he were somewhere far away. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "Sunfyre died this week."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Your… your cat?"

Aegon nodded slowly, still staring at the wall. "He was my only friend. The only one who understood." His voice was monotone, lifeless, as though the words were being dragged out of him.

"I’m… I’m sorry to hear that," Y/N said cautiously, watching his expression for any sign of reaction. But there was nothing. His face remained blank, his eyes never leaving the invisible point on the wall.

"He was beautiful," Aegon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Golden fur. Like the sun. That’s why I called him Sunfyre. He was always warm. Always there."

Y/N swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Aegon spoke—as if he was detached from the world around him, floating somewhere she couldn’t reach.

"And now," he murmured, his voice taking on a strange, almost dreamy quality, "he’s gone. And there’s just… noises." He finally blinked, but his gaze remained distant, as if the room had become too small for him. "The noises never stop."

"What… what noises?" Y/N asked cautiously, her fingers gripping the armrests of her chair, trying to steady herself. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted.

"Them," Aegon replied vaguely, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something. "The whispers. The sounds in the walls. They’re everywhere now, you know? After Sunfyre… they got louder. He used to keep them away, but now there’s nothing. Just them. Always talking. Always laughing." His face twitched for the briefest moment, as if suppressing a shiver.

Y/N’s heart started to race again, an icy chill creeping down her spine. "Aegon… have you… have you spoken to anyone about these noises? Has this been happening for a long time?"

"They’ve always been there," he said in the same flat, detached voice. "But it’s worse now. It’s like they’re closer. Watching me all the time. Telling me things." His eyes, still glued to the wall, seemed to glaze over. "I try not to listen, but sometimes… sometimes they make sense."

Her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to ask, "What do they tell you?"

Aegon’s lips curled into a slow, unsettling smile. It was the first time he’d smiled since he entered the room, and it was chilling. "They tell me the truth. About everything. About you."

Her blood ran cold at his words, her mind racing as she tried to keep her expression neutral. "What… what do you mean, Aegon?"

"They tell me how beautiful you are," he whispered, his eyes still locked on that invisible point on the wall. "How you care about me. How you don’t want me to leave. They tell me how you wear that soft panty to bed. The one with the little flowers on it."

Her heart stopped. How does he know? How?

She felt light-headed, her vision blurring at the edges as panic surged through her veins. "Aegon… how do you know what I wear?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head again, listening, as though someone was whispering in his ear. Then, with an eerie calmness, he said, "The voices see everything."

Y/N’s hands trembled as she gripped the chair tighter. "Aegon, I need you to focus. What do you mean the voices see everything?"

"They watch. They’re always watching," he replied, finally turning his head to face her, his gaze locking onto hers. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and filled with a strange, manic intensity that made her heart lurch in fear. "Just like I do. Just like I watch."

The room suddenly felt much smaller, the walls closing in around her. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to run, to leave, but her legs felt frozen in place.

"Sunfyre used to keep them away," Aegon continued, his voice a low murmur now. "But he’s gone. Now there’s just me. And you."

She couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. She had to end the session. She had to get out.

But before she could move, the clock on the wall chimed, signaling the end of their time.

Aegon stood up slowly, still smiling, his eyes never leaving her. "I’ll see you next week," he said softly, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness.

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N sitting in her chair, frozen in place, the echoes of his words reverberating in her mind.

The voices see everything.

The second Aegon left her office, she felt the walls pressing in, the whispers of doubt clawing at her. She packed up quickly, her hands trembling as she stuffed her notebook into her bag and threw on her coat. All she wanted—needed—was to get out.

By the time she reached her apartment, her fingers shook as she fumbled with her keys, her heart still hammering in her chest. As soon as she was inside, she slammed the door shut and bolted it, leaning her back against the wood as she tried to steady her breathing.

It’s just in your head, she told herself, her voice shaky and uncertain. He’s just a patient. He’s just trying to get under your skin. He’s not watching you… he’s not.

But the fear lingered. His words replayed in her mind, twisting around her thoughts like a poison.

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. It only took two rings before she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, babe,” her boyfriend, Jacob, answered. His tone light and warm. “Everything okay?”

“No…” Y/N’s voice broke as the word slipped out. “Can you come over? Please. I—I need you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.”

The next twenty minutes felt like an eternity. She paced around her apartment, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her chest. She kept checking the windows, the corners of the room, every shadow stretching a little too far, every creak of the floorboards making her jump.

When the knock finally came, she practically ran to the door. As soon as she opened it, she fell into his arms, her body trembling with the weight of it all.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jacob murmured, holding her tightly. His hand gently stroked her hair as he guided her back inside, shutting the door behind them. “I’m here. What happened?”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s… it’s Aegon. My patient. He—he said these things and I don’t know, it’s just… he knows things, things he shouldn’t know.”

Her voice broke as she recounted the details, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. She told him everything—Aegon’s strange behavior, his fixation, the way he talked about her. The voices. The watching.

Jacob listened, his face calm and reassuring as he nodded. “Babe, I think you’re just stressed. This guy… he’s messing with you because he knows it’ll get to you.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “It felt so real.”

“I know, I know it did.” He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “But you’re letting him get in your head. He’s trying to make you scared, but you can’t let him win, okay?”

She nodded against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “You’re right. You’re right… it’s just in my head.”

“That’s all it is,” he said softly, his hands running soothingly down her back. “Just some creepy guy trying to push your buttons. But you’re stronger than that. You can handle it.”

His calm, rational voice slowly chipped away at the terror inside her. She breathed deeply, letting herself believe his words, clinging to them like a lifeline. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed that.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

The tension in her chest began to unravel as she melted into his embrace. Slowly, the fear that had gripped her all week loosened its hold. He was right. Aegon was just trying to get under her skin. Nothing more.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “How about we forget all about this guy, huh? Let’s just relax.”

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.”

Without another word, he took her hand and led her toward the bathroom. The warm steam from the shower enveloped them as they stepped inside, the water cascading over their skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s tension.

He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She responded, her hands sliding up his chest, the heat of the water matching the growing warmth between them. His touch was gentle but sure, his hands slowly roaming over her body as he deepened the kiss.

In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. Not Aegon, not the fear, not the shadows that had haunted her all week. There was only him, the steady reassurance of his presence.

As they moved to the bed, their wet skin still warm from the shower, he kissed her neck, his hands sliding between her legs, slowly caressing her. She gasped softly, her body responding to the comfort and distraction he offered.

He kissed her deeply, and as his hands roamed over her, she closed her eyes, letting herself forget everything. For just a moment, she let herself believe that everything was okay.

The weight of Jacob's arm draped over her gave Y/N a sense of temporary calm, her mind finally lulled into a fragile state of rest after the events of the week. The sheets clung to their bodies, still damp from the shared heat, their limbs intertwined in a way that made her feel, for the first time in days, safe. Protected.

But that safety shattered in an instant.

A loud crash from the other side of the apartment jolted them awake. The sound of breaking glass ripped through the silence like a scream, sharp and sudden. Y/N shot up in bed, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Her boyfriend sat up beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for her.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered, his voice low, urgent.

"IーI don't know," Y/N stammered, already pulling the blanket around her naked body, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric tightly. Fear crawled up her spine like a cold hand, squeezing her chest. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Jacob swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing a nearby lamp as a makeshift weapon. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice grim as he stood, leading the way out of the bedroom.

They crept down the hallway, the air thick with tension, their breaths shallow and uneven. The soft click of the floorboards under their feet was deafening in the oppressive silence that followed the crash. Y/N tightened the blanket around her, the fabric dragging across the floor as she followed behind, her senses on high alert, every shadow on the walls seeming to twist and warp into something sinister.

The moment they stepped into the living room, the metallic tang of blood hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze.

"Oh my God..." her boyfriend whispered, the words barely audible, as his gaze swept over the scene before them.

Doves. Dead doves, strewn across the floor like discarded dolls. Their once-beautiful white feathers were soaked in blood, their delicate wings from their bodies, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Some of them were headless, their necks bent at grotesque angles, the floor slick with their blood. Their wings were now broken, shredded, discarded in small, crumpled heaps.

The smell was overwhelming, suffocating. The stench of death and blood filled the air, thick and coppery, clinging to their skin like a second layer. Y/N gagged, one hand flying to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. Her eyes were wide with horror as she stared at the carnage before her.

It wasn't just the doves.

The walls were splattered with blood- thick, dark red streaks of it, smeared in long, jagged lines. Words. Horrible, terrifying words written in the blood of the doves.

"MINE"

"LEAVE"

"ALWAYS WATCHING"

The writing was erratic, desperate, the letters dripping down the walls like some kind of twisted arning. The word “MINE" was repeated over and over again, sometimes scrawled so large it stretched from floor to ceiling, other times tiny, scratched into the plaster as if done by someone who had lost control.

The words clawed at her brain, a primal panic bubbling up from the depths of her mind. They weren't just words-they were a threat, a message, twisted and dark, filled with rage. Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes scanned the room, wild and terrified.

"What the fuck.." her boyfriend whispered, his voice trembling now, his grip tightening around the lamp. "What the fuck is this?"

Y/N's legs were shaking, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her as she stumbled backward. Her eyes darted to the window, and that's when she saw him.

A figure in the shadows, standing just outside the glass, watching her.

Aegon.

His pale, hollow face was half-hidden by the darkness, but his eyes一those wild, burning eyes一were locked onto hers, unblinking. There was something feral in the way he stood, the way his lips twisted into a sickening smile as he stared at her, his head tilted at a strange, unnatural angle, like a predator stalking its prey.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Her throat was dry, her voice stolen by the sheer terror of the moment. Her body felt frozen, paralyzed, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Her boyfriend's voice cut through the fog of her panic. "What is it? What do you see?"

She tore her eyes away from the window, grabbing his arm with trembling hands. "He's here" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "He's outside... it's him..."

Her boyfriend whipped his head toward the window, but by the time he looked, Aegon was gone. The shadowy figure had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but the echo of his presence behind.

"I don't see anything," he said, his voice laced with confusion andfear. “There's no one there."

"No-no, I saw him!" Y/N insisted, her voice rising with hysteria. "He was there! I swear to God, he was right there, watching us!"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she trembled violently. "It's okay, it's okay. We'll call the cops. Someone broke in, this... this is some fucked-up shit, but we'll figure it out. He's not here anymore."

She nodded weakly, her mind spinning with confusion and terror. Her eyes kept darting back to the window, expecting to see those cold, unblinking eyes staring back at her. But the space was empty now, just an expanse of darkness and the dull glow of streetlights outside.

Jacob pulled out his phone and dialed the police, his voice low and urgent as he explained the situation. Y/N barely heard him, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind of fear and disbelief.

The words on the walls seemed to pulse in the corner of her vision, the blood dripping down in slow, thick rivulets: MINE. LEAVE.

Her stomach twisted into knots, her entire body shaking as she collapsed into the nearest chair, her legs giving out beneath her. The doves lay scattered around her feet, their lifeless eyes staring up at her, empty and soulless.

She couldn't escape it.

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself it wasn't real, that Aegon wasn't capable of such madness, the truth was there-painted in blood across her walls.

This wasn't just in her head. This was real. Too real.

“There’s not much we can do without evidence,” one of the officers had said, his voice neutral but with an edge of doubt. “But we can check on him, just to ease your mind.”

And so, at 3 AM, Y/N, Jacob, and the two officers found themselves standing outside the grand Targaryen estate. The imposing house loomed before them, bathed in the glow of the moon, its towering facade as cold and uninviting as the man who lived inside. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, her skin crawling with unease as they rang the bell.

It didn’t take long for the door to open.

Alicent stood in the doorway, her face pinched with confusion and irritation, her robe wrapped tightly around her. She looked from the officers to Y/N and her boyfriend, then back again. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Officers," Alicent greeted politely, though her voice held an edge of irritation. "May I help you?"

Y/N’s voice shook as she stepped forward. “It’s Aegon. He’s been stalking me—he came to my apartment tonight. He left… dead birds everywhere, and he wrote on the walls with blood. He’s been following me. Watching me.”

“I’m sorry, but what is this about?” Alicent’s eyes flicked between Y/N, her boyfriend, and the officers. “This must be a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s not a misunderstanding!” Y/N yelled, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. “He broke into my apartment. There were doves—dead doves—and blood… He’s been following me, watching me! He’s dangerous!”

Her boyfriend squeezed her hand gently, trying to pull her back, but she yanked away, pointing toward the door. “You have to believe me! Aegon is sick—he needs to be locked up! He’s not right in the head!”

Alicent’s face hardened. “That’s impossible. Aegon’s been here all night.”

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to proceed.

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the officers, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “My son would never do something like that. He’s not… unwell. He’s just dealing with some personal things.”

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribcage as rage and fear bubbled inside her, her voice rising as she lost control. “He’s a fucking psycho, and he’s trying to ruin my life! He’s stalking me, and you’re just covering for him!”

“Ma’am,” one of the officers cut in, stepping forward to intervene, “let’s all remain calm. We’re here to investigate, but we need to speak to Aegon himself.”

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.

Aegon appeared, descending slowly, rubbing his eyes as though he had just woken from a peaceful slumber. He wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama pants, his blonde hair mussed, his expression calm, and his movements casual, almost lazy. He looked nothing like the manic, disturbed man Y/N had seen just hours before.

“Is everything alright?” Aegon asked, his voice quiet, soft, laced with concern. His eyes scanned the group, lingering on Y/N for a moment before turning to the officers. “What’s going on?”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. How could he look so normal? She knew what he was—she had seen him, heard his madness—but now, he was playing the part of the innocent. She could feel herself unraveling, her emotions spilling out uncontrollably.

Her blood boiled at the sight of his calm, innocent facade. He wasn’t the same Aegon she had sat across from in therapy—the one who whispered disturbing things and stared at her with dark, empty eyes. This Aegon seemed so harmless, almost apologetic, as if none of the horrors from earlier could be traced back to him.

"Do you know this woman, sir?" one of the officers asked, gesturing to Y/N, who was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of it all.

Aegon blinked slowly, his expression softening into something almost pitiful. “Yes, she's…my therapist," he said, his voice low and even, a hint of sadness laced into his words. "But…I'm not really sure why she’s here.”

One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, we’re here following a report. This woman has made some serious claims about your involvement in an incident tonight. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

Aegon’s face contorted into an expression of confusion, concern knitting his brow as he blinked at the officers. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, his voice even, smooth. “I’ve been here all night. I haven’t left the house.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes going wide. “What? No—no, don’t act like this! You know exactly what you did, Aegon! You’ve been following me! You were in my apartment tonight! I saw you!”

Aegon shook his head slowly, his eyes filled with what looked like genuine confusion. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was home all night. I would never do something like that.” He turned to the officers. “I’ve been going through a hard time. I recently…broke up with my girlfriend, and I started seeing Y/N to help me deal with the depression. But…I don’t know where all of this is coming from.”

“He’s lying!” Y/N screamed, stepping forward, her whole body shaking with anger. “He’s making it all up! He’s dangerous—he’s not the person you think he is!”

Aegon didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer to the officers, his face calm, composed, but his voice took on a vulnerable tone. “I think… I think maybe she’s upset because I didn’t reciprocate her feelings.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. “What the fuck are you talking about? That’s not true!”

Aegon glanced at the officers, feigning embarrassment. “She…she made some advances during our sessions. I told her that it wasn’t appropriate, but I think she may have misinterpreted our relationship. Maybe she’s just mad that I didn’t…you know, return her feelings.”

Y/N’s world spun. The rage and helplessness surged inside her like a storm, the bile rising in her throat. “That’s a lie! You’re lying! You need to stop lying!” She lunged forward, her hands reaching for Aegon in a desperate attempt to stop him from spinning the truth any further, but her boyfriend grabbed her, pulling her back.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he pleaded, holding her tightly as she fought to break free. “Just stop!”

Aegon’s face twisted into something almost sad. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin her reputation, but…I’m worried about her. I think she’s struggling with some personal issues, and that’s why she’s saying all of this.”

The officers looked back at Y/N, their expressions unreadable, but she could feel their judgment. It was like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. They didn’t believe her. No one believed her.

“You’re fucking sick!” Y/N screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “You should be in a mental hospital! You—” She was hysterical now, her words a broken mess of sobs and fury. “You did this! You—”

“Ma’am, we need you to calm down,” one of the officers said sternly, stepping between her and Aegon. “We’ll handle this, but we need you to calm down.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Y/N cried, her voice raw and desperate. “He’s dangerous! He’s going to hurt me! He’s—”

But no one was listening. Not her boyfriend, not the police, and certainly not Alicent, who stood behind her son, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face as she watched the scene unfold.

Aegon rubbed his eyes again, stifling a yawn as if all of this was just an inconvenience, just a bad dream he would soon wake from. “I just want to go back to bed,” he said softly, looking at the officers with pleading eyes. “I promise I’m not who she says I am. I just…I just want to move on.”

The officers nodded, exchanging a glance before turning back to Y/N.

“I think it’s best if we leave now, ma’am,” one of them said gently, but firmly. “We’ll follow up on this, but…for now, you should go home and try to get some rest.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had lost. She had been defeated by his lies, by his calm demeanor, by the illusion of normalcy he had created.

Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her, guiding her back toward the door. Her legs felt like lead, her body drained of all strength, her mind clouded with fear. But as they stepped outside, she turned back for one last look at Aegon.

And that’s when she saw it.

His eyes were wide now, bright and burning with a terrifying intensity. He stared at her, unblinking, a slow, twisted smile creeping onto his lips. And then, with a single finger pressed against his lips, he made a silent gesture.

Shhh...

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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wileys-russo · 9 months ago

Text

maternal instinct (2) II a.russo

part one maternal instinct (2) II a.russo

it had been a few days now and alessia hadn't heard much from you since the kiss, her confession and your reality check.

realistically she had known the moment it clicked for her that she had unresolved poorly harbored more than friendly feelings for you that it was complicated.

you had a child, a living, breathing, growing human being who depended on you for everything and anything. in turn of course you would be protective of that, of her, and of change.

alessia couldn't even begin to imagine what motherhood was like. the closest she'd come was her relationship with her own mother and even then in that scenario she was the daughter, the protected and ingthe cared for, not the parent taking the bullets as they came and shielding her from the wreckage.

so the striker had tried to her best to swallow her feelings, reminding herself that it wasn't fair on you to push them forward when you already had a very clearly well established routine and lifestyle.

but when those little dinners became weekly, the two of you spent more and more time together and in turn alessia earned bellas trust and started to get to know your daughter for the wonderfully bright charismatic and charming thing she was, there was suddenly two holes forming in the blondes heart.

then the thoughts started to creep in that just maybe this could work, maybe you might feel the same. alessia didn't yet have a maternal bone in her body but she wasn't opposed to learning, and she found herself daydreaming of how she might slot herself into your routine.

picking bella up from school when you had to work late, making lunches of a morning so you could have a few extra minutes to sleep in, the two of you in the stands in arsenal jerseys cheering for her.

but then alessia was fast to check herself, to remember that just because she could see herself slotting in that was far from the reality of what it meant to even date someone with a child let alone to be a step parent.

but all of that noise was pushed into a cupboard and the door firmly locked the moment your lips touched and alessia's heart swelled in size, hell she'd even give the grinch a run for his money that day.

though it didn't end how she'd hoped alessia meant what she said that night, she meant that she was okay to take things slow, she meant that she was more than happy to let you set the course and the pace and not overstep in any of that process.

alessia would be lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed as the days passed and you didn't reach out, and that her finger didn't often hover over your contact with the temptation to send a follow up message to her last one.

she'd heard both you and bella coming and going from your apartment, often hovering by her door in wait for your voices to either disappear inside or into the elevator before she'd exit her own apartment, wanting to respect the fact you were taking the space that alessia did tell you to take if needed.

eventually thursday rolled around and the blonde found herself in two minds.

over the time she'd been living in her new place and then become friends with you, the routine had suddenly become that each thursday one of you would go to the others for dinner.

those dinners alessia hadn't realised how much she'd treasured until she found herself looking at the prospect of a thursday passing without one and her stomach lurched uncomfortably.

but as the hours ticked by and considering that it was your turn to host and alessia was yet to hear from you, she found herself with no choice but to assume it wasn't happening, ignoring the small voice in the back of her head telling her to check with you.

training was a brief distraction, her full focus and attention thrown into football to take her mind off of you for a few hours, which was a bandaid solution but worked.

but then as soon as she was cooling down and getting ready to head home, you were right back in the forefront of her thoughts.

her teammates and friends knew very little of you, alessia selfishly keeping you all to herself and not sharing much more with her friends than that her neighbors were all nice and welcoming, especially those on her floor.

which wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the entire truth and that was a matter alessia was content to keep to herself if not mainly for your privacy.

needless to say though since the kiss itself the last few days had been a roller coaster of emotions for the striker.

regret that she kissed you. fear you may not want anything to do with her anymore. anxiety that she'd squandered a chance of even a continuing healthy friendship. hope that you might just maybe feel the same way she did with some time to think it over properly.

returning from her shower post training and drying her hair with a towel, tapping her phone to check the time alessia finally had some sort of a step toward an answer, a missed call and a message from you sending her heart into her throat.

she could hear emily talking to her, having been engaged in the conversation prior to now but after finally seeing your contact name on her notifications again she'd tuned her friend right out.

relief flooded her body seeing you were indeed checking if she still wanted to come over for dinner and apologising for the lack of contact this week, and alessia completely missed emily giving up on gaining her attention after snapping her fingers routinely at the blonde who didn't respond.

sending a quick message back confirming she'd love to come to dinner alessia was rudely slammed back into reality as her phone was yanked from her hand and she looked up to meet a cheeky grin.

"kyra! give it back." the striker groaned holding her hand out for the phone as the australian shook her head. "who are you smiling so happily at lessi?" the younger girl teased with a toothy smirk as alessia rolled her eyes.

"no one! not that its any of your business anyway." she snatched her phone back and tucked it away safely in her pocket as kyra merely smirked wider. "suure russo sure." the brunette teased again as alessia ignored her and packed away her belongings into her gym bag.

"anyway, your secret love life aside. are you coming for dinner? i think we're getting sushi but vic can't decide and we all know what she's like when its her turn to pick a place." kyra rolled her eyes as alessia stood with a slight chuckle at the truth behind her words of their dutch teammate, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"i can't tonight, sorry." the blonde apologized with a smile, trying to leave but sighing as kyra darted to quickly block her way. "i see...out for a date with your secret lover?" the younger girl made kissy faces obnoxiously.

"grow up kyra!" alessia chuckled shoving her away by the forehead as the shorter girl stumbled backwards and fell causing a few of the girls to laugh at her expense as alessia said her own goodbyes and headed for the door as kyra yelled out after her.

"hey that wasn't a no!"

alessia was expecting to see you today after your message and the missed call.

though it wasn't sat against your door with a miserable scowl on your face and your knees tucked to your chest. "good afternoon?" the striker greeted with a slightly nervous smile as you looked up and sighed.

"are you alright?" concern seeped into her tone now as she gripped the strap of her gym bag and anxiously rubbed her fingers against the course material to try and ground herself.

"i locked myself out." you admitted quietly with a huff, head thumping back against the door as your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and alessia bit down on her bottom lip to stop a smile forming.

"its not funny! my phones in there too so i can't even call someone." you whined with a groan. "your daughter isn't by chance locked in there too is she?" alessia teased lightly as you shook your head.

"no she's staying over at her dads tonight, she has a family tree project for school so he's helping her do his side." you sighed as alessia just smiled down at you.

"i see. so how did you manage this then? coming from an expert at locking herself out of course." the blonde tried to lighten the mood which you appreciated as she took a seat next to you but still giving you a respectable amount of space, gym bag sat in her lap.

"don't laugh." you warned as alessia feigned a cross over her heart and you exhaled heavily. "well the other day i ordered a new library card and-" you paused, head whipping sideways as you heard a snicker.

"alessia!" you huffed pushing her shoulder as she bit down on her bottom lip. "i haven't even started yet and you're already laughing." you complained with a frown as she waved it off with the excuse she needed to cough and encouraged you to continue.

"so i ordered a new library card and a huge haul of new stationary for the school. but of course it all got delivered to the wrong address so i complained and the post office picked it up and organised a re-delivery." you continued as alessia hummed, eyes fixed on you listening intently.

"well it finally arrived today and in my eagerness to grab the package from the lobby i sort of ran out without my keys, without my phone and apparently without a brain." you huffed picking at a loose thread of the hem of your shirt.

when there was no word from the blonde beside you, you glanced over to see her biting down on her bottom lip clearly trying very hard not to laugh as you sighed deeply.

"go on then." you waved her off with a roll of your eyes, unable to stop your lips tugging into a small smile at the melodic sound of her laughter. "you're the worst!" you huffed still smiling, pushing her again.

"is that really the way to talk to your only source of shelter, communication with the outside world and entertainment?" alessia teased, nerves having melted away now things seemed to be all normal between the two of you as she climbed up to her feet.

"come on. you can use my phone to call the building manager!" alessia held out her hands to help you up, bag balanced on her shoulder as you grabbed her hands, noting they were significantly larger than your own and immediately banishing that thought with a slight warmth in your cheeks.

"i'll even make you dinner if you ask nicely!" alessia grinned, pulling you to your feet and dropping your hands to open the door to her own apartment, a smile softening your features as you noticed the bracelet bella gave her was indeed attached to her house keys.

"oh my god and i'd already started to make dinner too!" you groaned in realisation, cringing at the thought of the mince meat sat in a bowl on your counter top where you'd intended to make meatballs.

"i've actually not gone grocery shopping thats a tomorrow errand. maybe we order in?" alessia realised as she let the pair of you in, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment as you nodded happily.

"i'll never say no to a takeaway." you assured as she kicked off her slides and ducked off to her room to dump her bag.

you'd been in alessia's apartment enough times now not to feel like a stranger, but it still didn't stop you smiling as you stood looking at the various framed photos which littered the walls of her entryway of friends and family.

"less you were so cute!" you squealed spotting a new addition, a small photo of a no more than four or five year old alessia in a dirty football kit grinning and holding up a medal and trophy in her hands.

"god you sound like my mum. every time she comes over she has a fit over the childhood photos as if she wasn't the one who took them and she doesn't have album on album of them neatly organised in year order." alessia groaned, bumping her shoulder into yours as she passed and headed for the kitchen.

"i think i need to meet your mum and see these albums." you teased as the blonde gave you a horrified look before offering you a drink which you politely declined.

"what is that?" you asked with a scrunch of your face as she pulled out a thick looking drink in a protein shaker which was a colour you don't think you'd be able to find on any colour wheel.

"recovery shake." alessia explained after she'd downed a mouthful of it without flinching, offering it to you as you shook your head. "whats in it? thats a less than desirable colour." you chuckled taking a seat at the bench.

"umm protein powder, milk, yoghurt, honey, two raw eggs, kale, electrolytes, avocado, pineapple-" the more ingredients she listed the more your look of disgust grew before the blonde caught it and laughed.

"it sounds and looks worse than it actually tastes. go on!" she encouraged again, rounding the corner and holding it out to you as you firmly shook your head. "one tiny sip, come onn." the footballer shook it in your face with a grin as you pulled your head back.

"it doesn't even smell bad. i eat with my nose so thats why i add the fruit in, disguises all the vegetables. promise!" alessia swore as you gave her a strange look.

“you eat with your nose? what are you a hoover?" you quipped with a smile as she flicked your ear with a roll of her eyes, her legs just grazing yours as she took a step forward slightly towering over where you sat.

"no like if i don't like the smell of something i won't eat it." alessia admitted bashfully, speaking again before you could quip back with a teasing remark.

"come on, one small mouthful. aren't mothers supposed to be responsible and demonstrate trying new things?" alessia mocked with a grin still holding out the shaker as you begrudgingly took it from her hand.

"do you see my daughter anywhere near this atrocity?" you scoffed but took a cautious sniff, unable to disagree that really all you could smell was honey and pineapple.

with a defeated sigh you took the tiniest of sips, recoiling and shoving it back into her hand, alessias head thrown back with laughter at your reaction as you coughed into the crook of your arm.

"thats foul!" you spluttered out as alessia grinned ear to ear and nodded. "yeah they taste horrid but its part of my training program that i have to drink them after every session, you get used to them after awhile." alessia shrugged and took another large mouthful.

"you knew it tasted horrible and still egged me on to try it?" you scoffed in disbelief as alessia nodded, downing it again as you pushed at her but she hardly moved an inch, grinning in amusement at your attempts.

"sharing is caring. now you got a taste of what its like to be an elite athlete!" alessia smiled, sculling the last couple of mouthfuls and bonking you lightly on the head with the empty shaker as you kicked at her and she side stepped, making her way to the sink to rinse it out.

"right i was going to buy dinner but after that little stunt its on you russo."

"alessia!" you gasped in shock as the striker nearly fell over herself in her haste to hurry into the living room. "what? what’s happened? are you alright?" she asked worriedly at your tone, having been changing into something a bit more comfortable.

"im fine. do you not know how to get dressed?" you laughed at her disheveled state as she huffed and wriggled around to twist her hoodie on properly, pushing her head through and smoothing it out.

"i do! why did you gasp like that?" alessia huffed moving to take a seat on the lounge beside you. "because you watched ahead, again!" you smacked her shoulder nodding to the screen, alessia having nearly finished the show you’d both been watching together.

"i didn't know when we were going to hang out and i wanted to know who the killer was!" the blonde defended herself, swatting away your hands which tried to smack her again. "so did i but i waited!" you groaned, head thumping against the back of the lounge.

"well it was-" alessia started as you dropped the remote and hurried to cover her mouth. "don't you dare spoil it for me." you warned as she rolled her eyes but nodded as you removed your hand and she wiped her mouth with the corner of her sleeve.

"well i'd normally watch the premier league, but why don't you choose a movie." alessia chuckled tucking her legs beneath her as you shook your head and dropped the remote into her lap.

"i've already caused havoc on your plans for tonight. watch your game less, please!" you assured, pushing the remote away where she tried to hand it back to you.

"i didn't have many plans for tonight. some cute girl was supposed to cook me dinner but she stupidly locked herself out for a library card." alessia teased softly as you blushed and knocked your knee into hers.

"sounds like a dork." you joked as alessia laughed. "oh the biggest. but she's also like really smart so i guess all those library books paid off!" alessia gasped sarcastically, leaning her head against the back of the lounge staring at you as you did the same.

"what a loser." you tutted as alessia grinned, bright blue eyes boring into yours. "nah she's alright." alessia smiled softly poking your shoulder and pausing for a moment, cogs ticking over for a second before she swallowed all the doubts swirling round her head.

"i quite like her actually, but i don't know if she likes me in the same way." alessia's gaze dropped, fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly into the soft fabric of her lounge as her heart beat thumped in her ears.

when a few moments of silence passed alessia felt her neck grow hot with humilation and prepared herself both for rejection and to deliver a sincere apology if she made you uncomfortable, beating herself up for even saying anything in the first place.

but then you spoke. "i think she likes you in the same way, she's just a bit scared about what that might mean." you admitted quietly, glancing at her to see her head snap up before in turn your gaze dropped downward unable to meet her eyes.

"i wouldn't ever push her to do anything thats not at her pace. because i know she has another little factor to think of, who i also like quite a bit." alessia moved her hand slightly, fingers bumping against yours as neither of you made eye contact.

"that little factor also likes her quite a bit, which is adding to the fear." you admitted, bella quite smitten with her new big blonde playmate who taught her how to make pasta and had feet the size of a small dog in your daughters overactive imagination.

a few more beats of silence passed as both alessia and yourself were caught up in your own heads, fingers grazing one another with a feather light touch.

"you know a very wise five year old told me once that her mum said that sometimes all you need is thirty seconds of confidence to do something scary." alessia started, glancing upward as you did the same, both of you locking eyes and blushing further.

"we don't have to do anything that isn't at your pace. i can stop coming over and being around bella as much if she's getting attached, and if all of this is a bit too much then please you can say no and i won't be upset." alessia promised, your breath catching as slowly her pointer finger bumped yours before gently interlocking with it.

"can i take you on a date? please." alessia finished softly, the question hanging in the air as you now felt your heart beat in your ears and alessia was shocked you couldn't hear her own thumping in her chest.

"yeah, i'd like that less."

it was safe to say you did in fact like it, so much so that one date turned to more and a few weeks later you found yourself even more smitten with your now not so new neighbour.

true to her word alessia hadn't put a single ounce of pressure on you to do anything you weren't ready for or comfortable with and that only had you swooning even more at how understanding she was being.

you'd both had the conversation after the first two dates about alessia's ongoing interactions with bella, you making the decision that you'd like her to keep hanging around your daughter for the weekly dinners but not so much to the point bella suspected the pair of you were anything more than friends.

for a five year old your daughter was incredibly perceptive, and having grown up in a semi split family had made her more mature than your average five year old and especially in tune with her emotions.

she knew that you and her dad were friends, and that at one point you'd been a bit more and thats how she came to be.

but the both of you made it your mission to never let her think she wasn't wanted or loved by both of you, and thats why the healthy communication and routine with swapping bella between you was so crucial.

which is why you held alessia at arms length away from bella, your daughter being so in touch with her emotions though mature could sometimes let them get the best of her as five year olds do.

so not wanting to dangle the prospect of a shiny new friend and yanking her away should anything happen with you and alessia meant you took their interactions in your stride, and alessia had been nothing but respectful of that.

which is why it took you by surprise one evening when you were caught in a somewhat compromising position.

with your parents going away for a couple of weeks on a cruise you'd been pestering them to take for years now they were retired, bella was spending the weekend with them before they left mid next week.

the rare night off with both you and alessia having no plans meant you'd gone out for a nice meal together and intended to see a film afterwards, though the london weather had other ideas and with the rain bucketing down you'd ditched the film and grabbed a cab home.

spurred on by a few glasses of wine and some much needed liquid courage you'd all but dragged a soaking wet alessia into your apartment after racing from the cab to your building in the rain.

promising she could use your shower and with the blonde having spent the last month learning her way around your body a few well placed kisses had her now dragging you into the shower with her.

still taking things at your pace nothing happened bar a rather steamy makeout session which turned into you dying of laughter at alessia somehow swallowing a mouthful of water and nearly choking herself to death, which had killed the building mood anyway.

the taller girl stealing a hoodie and finding a pair of her own joggers in your closet the two of you now dried and dressed had curled up together to watch a movie, which ended up in alessia watching you.

"the movies over there russo!" you teased, a slight blush on your cheeks as you caught her staring again and tapped her forehead playfully. "i prefer this film anyway." alessia shrugged with a grin as you rolled your eyes but swooned internally at what you knew she meant.

"you should come to the game sunday, my brothers away travelling so i've got a spare ticket." alessia started softy a few minutes later, her hand warm and comforting as it rested on your knee, her taller body leaned into your side as her legs sprawled off the armrest of the sofa.

"mmm wear an arsenal jersey? i'm just such a die hard liverpool fan-" you started, squealing in surprise as her slender fingers jabbed into your side with a frown of disapproval making you smile and unfurrow her eyebrows with your thumbs.

"will your family be there though?" you asked, the twitch of your hand all alessia needed to sense the apprehension behind the question as she sat up properly and swung her body to face you.

"they would. but you don't need to meet them or anything, or my teammates and friends, i know its a bit soon." alessia assured, grabbing your hands in hers and you softened as she lifted them to her lips and placed gentle kisses against your palm.

neither of you had really started the discussion on what exactly you were.

you were more than neighbors, more than friends, going out on dates but not exactly dating, alessia had wanted to clarify but staying true to her word of not rushing you and just cherishing what time she did have with you meant she hadn't prompted the conversation yet.

"lessi i'm sorry everything has to be so slow and-" you started with a sigh, alessia shaking her head and squeezing your hands in hers to stop you before you'd finished your sentence.

"don't, please. i told you it would all be at your pace and i meant it, so long as i still get to spend time with you thats all that i care about." the striker promised sincerely as you nodded, leaning over to peck her lips a couple of times in a silent thank you.

"such a charmer." you teased softly poking her cheek as she grinned. already missing the feeling of your lips on hers you leaned in again to connect them, catching the taller girl off guard a little as the tone of the kiss shifted.

within a few seconds you found yourself moving to sit on top of her, your knees digging into the sofa either side of her thighs as her hands splayed against your hips and she sighed happily into your mouth with was still pressed against hers.

"what happened to the films over there?" alessia mumbled teasingly against your lips, pulling away to send you a dazzling grin as you shook your head and moved a hand to the back of your neck and drew her in again.

"would you like me to stop and we can finish it then?" you whispered with a smile, laughing as alessia hastily shook her head and tugged on your top connecting your lips again.

"so needy." you mumbled into the kiss, squirming as she pinched you for the comment, using the slight hitch in your breath to slip her tongue into your mouth.

now had you not been so caught up in the all consuming feelings that came with kissing alessia, and had your head not spun when those kisses moved from your lips down to your neck, her face tucking into your collarbone, you might have heard it.

the few rapid knocks which were drowned out by the movie in the background and ignored by both you and alessia who were too busy with one another, too busy to then hear the key turn in the lock and the handle rattle as it opened.

but what you didn't miss was the cry out for mummy and footsteps sprinting toward the sound of the movie in the living room, tumbling backwards off alessia's lap as the blonde clutched for you but it was too late as you landed on your back on the floor with a wheeze.

"mummy!" you grunted as a body joined you, bella hauling herself down on top of you with a grin. "bell. you're back!" you forced out in shock, still trying to catch your breath as your daughter nodded and scrambled off of you.

"big feet!" alessia was next to be jumped on, hugging your daughter with a smile as you sat up and rubbed your back which was throbbing from the fall.

"sorry darling. we did knock!" your head whipped upwards with wide eyes which locked with your own mothers, who judging by the amused smile on her face had assumed something was interrupted.

"i thought she was staying with you until sunday night mum?" you hurried to your feet with a slight wince, bella detaching herself from alessia and sprinting away toward her room.

"she is. but she forgot harvey so of course we had to come back for him, i did also try to call but it would seem you're a bit busy." she smiled and locked eyes now with alessia who blushed.

"mum, alessia. alessia, this is my mum amelia." you introduced them quickly intending to usher the older woman away from the poor bright red striker on your lounge but of course she had other plans.

"alessia. thats a lovely name! i work with an alessia and i hadn't met one before her and now i've met two!" your mother smiled warmly. "its italian, dads side. its lovely to meet you, i live next door we were just..." alessia trailed off, slight panic in her eyes as they met yours.

"hanging out. nice to watch a movie that isn't frozen with someone my own age!" you forced a smile, pushing at your mums shoulders who caught the hint and allowed herself to be lovingly shoved toward the kitchen.

you heard bella return and start yapping away at alessia who nodded along, grinning at the story of how harvey (your daughters best friend and most prized posession) came to be in her care, and you softened with a glance over your shoulder seeing the blonde keenly hanging off her every word completely invested.

"she's quite attractive." you were snapped back to the woman in front of you as your eyes widened and you groaned. "mum!" you hissed as she held up her hands. "just an observation! its nice to see you put yourself out there darling your father and i were-" the woman continued making you sigh.

"-worried i won't be married off before i fall pregnant? so sorry to have done it out of order!" you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. "less and i are just friends. i am allowed adult friendships who you don't know the entire family tree and childhood upbringing of amelia!" you huffed as the woman smiled.

"fair enough. we'll get out of your hair then darling, isabella!" she called out as footsteps thumped away and a body hugged your leg. "got him! now we can all go get ice cream with pop. you and big feet will come right?" her chin rested against your knee as she looked up hopefully and you smiled brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

"not tonight bell. this weekends for you to spend some special time with nan and pop before they go on holidays, because they'll miss you lots and lots but i get to see you every single day. okay?" you explained softly as your daughter frowned a little but nodded and you dropped down to give her a proper hug.

"bye big feet! harvey says bye too." you stood and bella yelled out bye to alessia poking her head through the gap between your legs making the blonde laugh.

"bye bella, bye harvey. lovely to meet you!" alessia waved and you couldn't help but grin as bella made the teddy wave back. "nice to meet you alessia." your mum smiled before you ushered them out the door.

"bell don't run please!" you sighed as the five year old raced off to the elevator.

"you know darling back when i was your age my friends didn't give me little love bites, but i guess thats just a generational change then. have a nice weekend!" your jaw dropped and your hand clapped against your neck but it was too late as the older woman took off, taking your daughters hand and leading her into the elevator as you spun around and headed back inside.

"alessia!"

"is everything alright baby? you just don't seem yourself is all." alessia questioned for the second time as you sat on her lounge eating pasta she'd just cooked for the pair of you, bella at her dads for the evening.

your stomach leapt into your throat at the term of endearment and the way it melted so effortlessly off her tongue, the little nicknames weren't anything new only now they came a lot more naturally to the pair of you.

"i'm fine i promise. one of my friends from school is getting married this weekend and i can't go, they're all sending loads of videos and photos and i am happy for them i really am, but i wish i was there." you admitted with a sigh, alessia settling her bowl down on the coffee table and turning to give you her full attention.

"why can't you go?" she questioned carefully with a small frown, one hand holding her head up as it rested against the back of the lounge and the other tracing circles on your knee.

"well its an adults only wedding which makes complete sense, and i planned to go originally just for the ceremony and have bella sat for the weekend. but my parents are still away, bens going away on a work trip this weekend and i can't ask him to not go, his parents are sick, his brothers out of town and all of my friends are headed off to the wedding if they're not already down there for the week." you explained with a small smile, picking at your pasta as your eyes were trained down to the bowl.

alessia didn't think before she spoke, but before she could pause to take a minute the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

"i could watch bella for the weekend?"

your eyes snapped upward at that, halting the pushing around of the bowl of pasta in your lap. "less i can't ask you to do that." you shook your head declining right away.

"you're not asking, i'm offering. you deserve a nice weekend away with your friends and weddings don't happen every day! i can tell you were looking forward to it." alessia assured as you sighed, moving your bowl onto the coffee table beside hers.

"less, baby really this is such a sweet offer but its not like dog sitting, having a five year old for a few hours is a huge challenge let alone a few days." you tried to put it as gently as you could but it didn't seem to deter the blonde in the slightest.

"i've babysat before and i've got little cousins. i know thats not the same but i pay attention, ask me anything about bella and i bet i could tell you!" the striker challenged, hand removed from your leg as she waved for you to start.

"alessia-" "go on babe, anything!"

knowing how stubborn the tall blonde could be you decided to placate her wishes with a sigh and a shake of your head as she crossed her arms against her chest and raised an eyebrow in waiting.

"bed time?" "eight on weekdays, eight thirty on weekends or if she's been at her dads or your parents because she needs time to settle down before she can sleep but never later than nine especially on a school night."

"night routine?" "it tires her out to help with making dinner or keeping herself occupied with something that isn't just tv before she eats. but dinner first and at the table, one episode of something, bath, her cup of tea which is really just warm milk with a spoon of honey in it, book, bed."

"favourite foods?" "anything with carbs, nothing thats orange, no soda's from a can but its fine from the soda stream. she'll eat broccoli if the stalks trimmed but not if it isn't, she will only eat peas if they're seperate from everything else on her plate. she smothers everything in tomato sauce so you have to pour it for her or else she drowns the meal, she claims not to like cheese but if you hide it in something she doesn't notice."

alessia grinned happily at the look of shock and surprise which you made no move to hide at her answers, nailing every single one as she waved for you to continue and your eyes narrowed slightly.

"allergies?" "latex and peanuts, there’s an epipen in bella’s backpack and in your cupboard under the sink and in the bathroom vanity just in case. she doesn't have asthma but you carry a puffer around because when the seasons change and the airs a bit full of dust or pollen she can get random coughing fits."

your eyebrows shot up again as alessia's grin softened into a smile, reaching out for your hands in her own.

"i also know first aid, cpr, all the emergency numbers, you keep your parents numbers and bens parents numbers on a little card on the fridge. i know that the easiest way to calm her down if she's having big feelings is to rationalize them but not patronize her because she likes to feel cared for but she's quite independent. the easiest way to get her to eat if she claims she isn't hungry is to feed the monster in her tummy who she's called frankie, she cannot go anywhere without harvey and she always sleeps in one of your shirts even though she has pyjamas of her own." alessia rattled off flawlessly without missing a beat as you sat shell shocked into silence.

"how did you-" "i told you, i pay attention." alessia promised with a soft smile, squeezing your hands as her rings felt cold against your warm skin. "i know this is a lot but your friends babysit her too right? we're...friends. it wouldn't need to be anything more than that to her." alessia spoke a little more unsure now as you nodded to reassure her she was right.

"well you're very impressive superstar, just…give me a day to think it all over."

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