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lavendermunson · 1 year ago

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dancing with our hands tied — eddie munson

୨ৎ ˙ ˖

summary Eddie seems to live in constant hell except when he is with you.

tags +18. eventual smut. friends to best friends to lovers. angst. pining. no upside down. slight chrissy x eddie and jealous reader. fingering. p in v without protection; be smart irl. no use of y/n, eddie calls reader peach. lose of virginity.

tw eddie has an older brother who punches him. slight mentions of blood and violence. alcohol. mention of drugs. if i forgot anything lmk!

w.c 7.6 k

a/n hey people! it’s the first time i write something like this. the fic is divided in tiny chapters that are titled by the lines of taylor’s song (see title) i hope it’s easy to understand and let me know if you like the format ♡ enjoy!

I. First sight, we love without reason.

It came to you as a surprise, really. The moment he sat down on the nearest seat to start the tutoring lesson. The secret is Eddie has always been good at English, it’s a thing among others that he kept as a secret. You weren’t sure why he would hide it, even lie about it.

You and Eddie became friends easily. But you wish the relationship had more meaning, you weren’t friends just school friends. The worst kind of friend you could be with someone as cool and pretty as Eddie.

One day, in the early morning of a cloudy Thursday Eddie attended school with a black eye. He rushed past you mumbling a kind Hey and going his way. You said hi back but it was too late, he was gone.

You missed him the rest of the day, he didn’t show up to class. His friends were alone at lunch. There was no sign of Eddie until later, tutoring sessions.

He slumps on the chair next to you, taking a deep breath and scratching his scalp nervously. His hands were shaking as he started to scribble on your textbook.

Your mind wasn’t focused on the textbook once, you looked longingly at the maroon-tinted bruise on his eye. A cut, maybe 12 hours old, rested on the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting” you whispered “I can’t keep my eyes off…your… are you okay, Eddie?” you pointed your finger at his eye, and he turned his head to look at you.

“Yeah, no don’t worry” he sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair and taking a deep look at your face.

Your mouth has formed a pout and your brows are furrowed, Eddie tried to read your mind and he succeeded. You were worried.

“My stupid older brother, he comes in unexpectedly, and when I tried to kick him out of the trailer he punched me”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Eddie” You lean your head to the side, his face looks better from this angle.

He looks tired, the punch looks like it hurts a lot, more if it came from a person of his own bloodline.

“You know what, we can study another time and you can go rest” Your hands are quick to close the textbook, gathering all your stuff as Eddie’s body comes closer to you.

He takes your wrist on his hand, with a little more pressure than intended. When your mouth leans to the side he realizes he is hurting you (not too much, but still he didn’t mean it).

“No, I'm sorry” he drops your hand on your lap, delicately “We can study, I'm fine. Please I need the money”

“I know, I will pay you. But I can’t sit here and I can't focus knowing you are in pain or your mind is somewhere else” You smile at him, and he nods.

“Thanks…I'm having a really bad day. I cannot thank you enough, tomorrow we can study double I promise”

“Don’t worry, I got you” You head out of the library beside him “Take care of that, it looks like it’s going to stay there for a while”

He giggles at your comment, you are not sure why. You pay him for today and he smiles at you.

“Thank you, Peach”

He didn’t talk about his family much, he wasn’t entirely sure if there was something interesting to talk about. His mom left a few years ago, along with his older brother, leaving little Eddie and Uncle Wayne alone.

You knew Wayne from one of Eddie’s stories he told you about. He loves the man like he is his own father, but he is in a lot of debt with him.

Wayne takes care of Eddie as if he’s his own child. He surely loves Eddie like that. He works most of the day and night leaving his nephew alone in the trailer park.

One of those cold and lonely nights Eddie’s brother came to visit him at the trailer park only seeking some money. He was out of luck, and so was Eddie, when his furious brother came in and punched him in the face. Not once, but twice.

Eddie’s head and face hurt the rest of the night. He unfortunately overslept and didn’t get a chance to start school properly so he chose to show up just to the tutoring sessions. He needed the cash, you needed help.

II. Picture of your face in an invisible locket.

A week has passed since Eddie’s brother came to town. You’ve grown closer to Eddie than before.

You hang out after school now that tutoring lessons are over, he invites you to Hellfire Club to watch the campaigns and you sit there watching the whole thing unravel. He had a great imagination, and a wonderful mind full of creative stories and riddles. The kids enjoy his company as much as you do.

He talked about his problems at home with you, trying to get the ugly feeling out of his chest. You listened to him buying him a cup of ice cream and enjoying the wonderful summer breeze.

“I enjoy being with you,” he said “You are a great friend, Peach”

You smiled at him. He smiled at you. His dimples showed up for the first time since you’ve known him, a simple gesture that knocked some sense on you, you had a crush on him.

“Me too, Eds”

Your relationship with Eddie has evolved, not only do you have pet names for each other but it seems like you are best friends. It’s been some weeks since the first time he offered to tutor you and you accepted immediately.

You’ve always liked Eddie, he is his true self every time and he is proud of it.

You admire it.

People at school used to call him awful names, it was always like that until he met Chrissy. The popular kids are the ones that make more fun of him as if it wasn’t exhausting for them to be assholes and jerks nine hours a day. They have toned their jokes down knowing that the queen of Hawkins has a soft place for Eddie and he is more than happy hanging out with her sometimes.

That made your heart ache, it was a dreadful feeling.

After spending some time with Eddie you went home. Still under that lavender haze of accepting that you had a crush on him for a while. It was embarrassing to you only because you were so, so obsessed with him.

His face. His hands. His scent. His hair. Realizing everything about him made you crazy was scary, he only had eyes for one person who was the most perfect cheerleader in the history of high school.

To distract your mind from all the lousy thoughts you took a shower, it was quick, you needed to brush off the sweat and release some tension with a thorough massage on your scalp. The lavender shampoo lingered in the air, relaxing every inch of your body.

After the shower, it was time to eat some dinner. Instead of making a complicated meal you decided to heat some leftovers from yesterday and enjoy your evening eating and dancing in the kitchen with some of your old records playing upbeat songs to cheer you up.

A knock on your door makes you jump after finishing dinner. No one used to come by at this hour, not when your dad was out of town.

You get close to the door and look through the peephole to see who’s interrupting your godly moment. It was Eddie.

A gasp falls out of your mouth and you open the door as quickly as possible. You meet Eddie’s trembling body standing in front of you, his lip is bleeding and his eyes are watering.

“God, Eds…” you whisper, he leans closer to you, wrapping his hands around your neck and hugging you.

You didn’t say anything else, just mirrored his movements and wrapped his waist with your arms. Taking a few steps back and leading him in, you close the door with your foot and he stands there, still not letting you go.

You rub his back as he tries to ease his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know where else to go so I-” he takes a step back breaking contact with you, his head falls as his eyes look at his feet.

“He, he did this to you again?” he broke contact so fast you decided to stay in your place, careful not to overwhelm him with unwanted touches.

“Yeah, shit shit, sorry I should've called. My mind sort of blacked out and the only thing I could remember was your street and the color of your house, the one with the weird birdhouse…”

“Eds, it’s okay” you interrupt “Let me help you, alright? let me clean your wound and make you some hot chocolate”

He nods, walking with you to the bathroom and past your bedroom. You are quick to find the first aid kit, taking some rubbing alcohol and gauze to clean Eddie’s cut. He hisses at the stingy feeling in his mouth, you apologize and he encourages you to continue.

And there you are, with the boy that you like so much. He leans on the counter closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel at peace with you around him.

You stand between his legs, his inner thighs rubbing the exposed skin of your thighs. The ungodly thoughts need to go away so you blink pretty fast, focusing, it’s not the moment nor the place nor the person.

You finish up cleaning his wound and placing a band aid over it to avoid any sort of discomfort while it heals.

“It’s ready” Eddie opens his eyes, finding you in front of him. So close. The white light in the bathroom makes you look like an angel.

“Thank you, peach” he squeezes your cheek slightly. Neither of you move from where you stand, so close to each other but so far at the same time.

“It’s nothing, let’s make you some chocolate”

“Wait, I'm not really hungry. I need to clear my mind and feel at peace for a bit, ‘m just gonna go back to my place to rest but again… thank you” he stands up straight and you step back, missing the heat of his body.

“No! you can’t go back, it's dangerous. My dad is out of town, you can stay here”

His head leans down to one side, he looks at you concerned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for my best friend” you say. It’s the first time you call him like that. It’s the first time anybody has called him like that.

“Thank you, again, thank you”

“No problem, let me get you some fresh clothes”

You get Eddie some of your oversized clothes that only get out of your closet on rainy days. You give him some space to change and freshen up in the bathroom, getting him a new toothbrush and a towel so he can wash his face.

When he gets out you offer him the guest room, he immediately denies it and asks if he can sleep with you. You shake your head and show him a gentle smile.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or bother you” he asks while you get the bed ready to sleep.

“It’s okay, Eds. I get that you don’t want to be alone, do not worry”

You get in bed, he drops his body beside you. Both of you rest your head on the pillows while looking at the ceiling.

“You can stay here in the morning if you don’t want to go to school, I do have to go and hand in this paper I’ve been working on”

“Thank you, I owe you one,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and letting out a sigh.

“You don’t, I’m happy to help you” You look at him, but he doesn’t look back. “Goodnight, Eds”

“Goodnight, sweetheart”

The pet name falls from his lips so beautifully.

You close your eyes with a smile plastered on your face, aware that the heat of your cheeks is present leaving a pink tint.

You are thankful it’s dark and Eddie is about to fall asleep so he won’t notice.

When you fall asleep Eddie does too. It takes him a couple of seconds to get into a deep sleep, he hasn’t slept like this in weeks, all thanks to the torture of his stupid brother and the constant thought of him coming back to punch him.

He feels safe around you and he is more than grateful to be your friend.

III. ‘Cause it’s gravity, keeping you with me.

Eddie has been staying over at your house multiple times, Your dad is out of town and you appreciate the company, his company. Sometimes he comes with you right after school, other times after he hangs out with Chrissy. You are not sure of what kind of relationship they have but it still hurts your heart every time he laughs at something she says.

You are thankful for having him over. The nights consist of movies, old tv shows, watching the commercials on the tv, and listing in your head what to buy next for these reunions.

The last slice of pizza remains in the box, it should be cold and washy but

Eddie is fine with it. He watches you from the corner of his eye, your gaze glued to him.

“Sorry, did you want the last slice?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts into reality.

“Huh? No, no you have it”

“Sure?”

“I hate it when the pizza is cold” Your mouth falls to the side, and you look at the slice with disgust.

“Bummer, I’ll have this baby for myself”

He raises his hand with the slice between his fingers, his head falls to the back and he takes a bite of the tip of the slice. You watch him in awe, not really thinking about how weird it is to watch Eddie eat, but your eyes can never leave his face. His mouth opens and his jaw tightens when he takes a bite, and another, and another until he finishes it.

“Don’t know why you pushed this aside, it was so good”

The corner of his mouth is full of tomato sauce and cheese grease, you laugh at him shaking your head.

“You have something… there” you point with your finger, Eddie furrows his brows and leans his head to the side looking like a confused puppy.

“Where? Here?” He wipes his mouth and smiles victorious, although it is the opposite side.

“No, here”

You get closer to him. His body is fully turned to the left so you sit in front of him kneeling.

He watches you getting close, he takes a deep breath as his Adam’s apple bobs as a result of his own nerves. You are too close, you’ve never been this close –just once when he hugged you – not even when you two are sleeping in your bed.

As you take the napkin to clean his face you get the opportunity to get closer, you wipe his mouth slowly and pinch his chin between your fingers. You breathe and he is mixing up, the room feels suddenly too hot.

Eddie wants to give in, he gets his head closer. He doesn't care about anything, just you. The only source of light is the TV which gives a shadow of multiple colors on your face, it’s adorable. Your body, your naked thighs, your pretty face so close. He is about to kiss you until you speak.

Shit.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot”

“How do you punch someone?” you ask, he shakes his head confused shaking off the thoughts he had earlier. He was so close to kissing you, but he couldn’t. You are his best friend.

“Wow,” Eddie laughs, grinning “Who do you want to punch, exactly?”

“I met someone”

Your news hit Eddie in the chest. He shouldn’t be feeling like this but he is… jealous?

“He told me to go to this party with him… and a friend told me I should be prepared for everything”

“Everything? Like if he wants to get in your pants you’d punch him?”

“Only if he is a real jerk and thinks he is too smart”

Eddie nods, he takes your hands in his standing up from the couch. You follow him.

“Alright, pay attention”

He drops one of your hands and takes your dominant hand in his, the cold rings on his fingers keep you from falling apart from his touch.

“The secret is in your hips and shoulders, that’s where the power comes from okay?”

“Yeah, but please don’t teach me how to kill someone. I just want to throw a little punch if needed”

“I know, peach” he laughs “Stand up like this” His stance looks professional, maybe he has done this before. Maybe to protect himself from his older brother.

“First things first, your stance gives you balance so you don’t fall to the floor and break your nose too y’know?”

“Am I going to break his nose?” you ask, a little scared of what you are getting yourself into.

“No! ‘M just saying. You don’t have a lot of strength to do that, don’t worry”

“Like this?” You mimic his stance, feeling a little awkward.

"Exactly. Now, focus on your fist” He hasn’t dropped your hand yet “Curl your fingers in, and tuck your thumb under them. This way, you won't hurt your hand when you punch”

“Why do I feel like I shouldn't be learning this?”

“You are fine, watch” Your hands form a perfect fist, Eddie holds it in his hands and tries to set you up on the perfect stance. Your knuckles turn a bit white as you focus on the lesson “See? Perfect”

“I got it”

"Now punch me,” he says, he is serious.

“What?”

“C’mon I’ve taken the worst punches, bet yours will feel light as a feather” he grins. Inside he feels dumb for aching your touch so much even if it means taking a hit “Twist your body and extend your arm in a straight line, then go straight to my cheek” his fingertip touches his cheek “Not my nose! Please” he remarks, but at the same time he is encouraging you.

“Alright,” you do as he says, swinging your arm back and forth. Your fist comes into contact with his cheek and he groans in pain, his head falls to one side.

“Jesus H. Christ!” he caresses his cheek with the palm of his hand “I underestimated you” A chuckle falls from his lips, and you are covering your mouth with your hands surprised. Your eyes are glassy.

“No, no don’t cry I’m fine”

“I’m so sorry Eddie. I thought- fuck, I didn’t see that coming! I am so fucking-sorry, sorry” you cry, your cheeks glow red as embarrassment washes over you.

“No, don’t” he is still laughing “Oh god, come here”

Eddie opens his arms and wraps them around your shoulders. This is the second time you hug him, and this time it feels different. One of his hands rubs your back to calm you down as you keep murmuring sorry. He keeps thinking you are the most adorable thing on the planet.

“Do we count this as tutoring? Am I getting cash for getting punched in the face?” he chuckles.

You bury your face in his chest, hugging his body tightly. He feels you trying to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah if you want”

“I'm joking, peach, you did good!”

You smile at the praise, although he can’t see it.

“Thank you for teaching me”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It was a pleasure” he breaks the hug, and his hands come to rest on your arms. He is not giving up touching you “I hope whoever you punch… you do it harder than this one” he smiles.

As you watch his face, hypnotized, you smile back.

“I will, only if he is a jerk…”

“Or thinks he is too smart, gotcha” he interrupts, filling up the rest of the sentence “But you know if someone bothers you, you can call me and I will kick his ass right?”

“I’m a big girl, Eds. I can take care of myself”

“That I see! ‘M just offering, You did good honey” He pinches your cheek, and the new pet name hits right above your stomach where your anxiety rests. He has never called you that before, you feel the heat on your cheeks.

“We- uhm, we should sleep is getting late” You watch the clock, it is 3 am already.

“Oh shit, yeah. Let’s go”

IV. I’m a mess but i’m the mess that you wanted.

Watching Eddie kissing Chrissy was a punch on the tits. His hands are on her waist, she grabs his jacket getting closer. Their mouths were glued to each other. You were sure this was the night, this was the night you would tell Eddie your feelings, but instead, you decided to meet up with the guy you told him about. Ignoring your feelings for Eddie.

Nothing ever comes out as you wish, after punching the guy for trying to touch your ass after he didn’t even know you were in his math class, you punched him. Your hand hurts, but it was worth it.

You try to find Eddie but he isn’t around. Ignoring the feeling in your chest, you decide to fill the guilt and the secrets with alcohol.

After a lot of refills, the living room’s bottles are empty so you make your way around the house to find more. That’s when you find Eddie, you take your sixth? seventh? Cup of the night and walk to him.

“Eds!”

Your voice is like honey to him, he didn’t want to be here but as soon as Chrissy mentioned you were coming with “the guy” he wanted to be there. She was nowhere to be seen after spending some time with him.

“I did it! I punched him!” you mumble, proud of your achievement and so, so drunk.

“Fuck, I missed it?”

“Yeah, I have been looking for you everywhere to tell you” You lie, you’ve seen him multiple times and ignored him. It was a decision that sober you took. Drunk you is a little more insistent “I didn't think you were coming”

“Chrissy wanted to be here, I'm just keeping her company… was, she left” he looks around, but she is still somewhere else.

Her name rings in your ears, your stomach crumbles.

“Well, let’s get drunk!”

Deep down Eddie is grateful that the guy you were meeting up with fucked up everything and now you are with him. Chrissy is nowhere to be seen and you seem like you need someone to watch you. Take care of yourself.

You are so drunk, your whole body feels light and your head is in the clouds. Maybe you are a little bit high too.

“Can we find somewhere more quiet? I wanna smoke” Eddie finds himself screaming, the music getting louder with the minutes.

“Sure, let’s go”

You hold a red solo cup with something in it, enough to make you more tipsy. You follow Eddie outside, to the porch. The night is hot and Eddie realizes your dress is too short. He takes a deep breath, looking at your thighs as you take a sip from the cup.

Eddie lights a cigarette and takes a peek at the party from outside, The window leaves a space so the warm light of the house hits your face. The night at your house, the one when he almost kisses you comes back to his head. A side of your face lit up by the chaos inside, yet you look so peaceful, so beautiful.

“I need more of this. I- shit I forgot the n-name” you slur your words again, taking a step forward. Eddie takes your wrist in his hand, stopping you.

“What the fuuuuck?” you say.

“I think that’s enough for today, let’s go home”

Your whole body is on fire, all of your insides begging for more alcohol.

“Home? What? I didn’t know we lived together!”

“C’mon, peach. You know what I mean” Eddie’s cigarette bounces on his mouth, his voice is firm and his free hand comes to cup your waist.

“No, no. Let’s go dance here” You take his hand, the alcohol makes you bold. He follows you to the living room after dropping his cigarette.

The music is too loud, you empty the cup you had and throw it away.

“I’ll be right back, need to take a piss'” Eddie says, disappearing. You don’t hear him.

His “girlfriend” is still ignoring him, but he remembers what she said. She got mad because he was looking for you, and she got jealous too. Chrissy wanted all the attention but Eddie was giving it to you.

He stopped eating lunch with her, he was with you instead. Talking about random tv commercials that you thought were clever, it was some of an inside joke.

As he comes back from the bathroom he hears a crowd cheering, he is so done with this party, tired of the happy sappy music playing over and over, and the smell of sweat and alcohol makes him sick. He makes an effort to find you and he does.

There you are, standing on the table dancing. You were dancing, making some sexual moves that all the guys were screaming. Your hips move as the music gets to your ears, the whole room electrified by this little show.

Eddie’s face goes beet red, he can’t take this. He isn’t enjoying this.

Jealousy takes over him and he grabs your hand, yanking you down and letting you fall on his shoulder.

He carries you away from the table, a hand comes behind your back and he places his palm on your ass in an attempt to stop your dress from going up. You feel the cold of his rings again, your whole body lights up in anger as he carries you outside.

“Let me down! Eddie, I'm not joking!”

“Whine for as long as you want, I’m taking you home”

“Eddie please, I'm going to throw up”

He gives up, he lets you down and you pick up your breath. You place a hand on your belly trying to steady yourself and make the nausea go away.

“I need a moment… just give me a–”

“No! I know you will go back inside. You can’t even walk by yourself”

“Yes, I can! Don’t- don’t try to babysit me” you bicker.

He lets out a deep sigh, he is not letting you go back and you know it.

He wants to protect you, but more, he wants you to be with him and not dancing and showing off for anybody else. Yes, he was jealous and it was time to admit it. His feelings for Chrissy were never as intense as what he feels when he is with you.

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that!” you scream, his eyes open wide.

“Please just-”

He tries to hug you but you don’t let him.

“I'm not your sweetheart! The other day you called me like that too and I- what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t- fuck, what are you talking about?” Eddie is confused, you are acting like you don’t want him around, and that hurts him.

“I- I like you, Eddie! I fucking like you so bad but you… You don’t and I know it!” you have no time to breathe, the alcohol encourages you to confess your feelings.

“Peach-”

“No! No, I- I like you since that first day of tutoring… I’ve liked you since then and you don’t know how fucking hard it is to oh- sleep with you and you- almost fucking kissed me and I panicked. This, you, her- it’s too much ah- go away!” you cry out, your head is spinning and you can feel your temples aching.

This wasn’t planned, future you will kill you for this. But right now in the heat of the moment, you let Eddie know how you feel. Your whole body aches and your heart is shattered.

“I know you like her! Just- I don't want to talk to you right now!”

A salty taste lingers in your mouth, your tears. Your arms ache from the sudden cold breeze as the night gets darker. It’s maybe two or three in the morning. You are drunk and high. Eddie’s brain seems to stop working.

He is quiet, looking at the grass under his feet. It hurts seeing you like this.

“Fuck!” you turn around and start walking, thinking you can walk home from here knowing it’s impossible.

“Hey! Let me take you home”

You stop.

“Please, I won't stay. I’ll drop you off and go to my trailer- you can’t get home by yourself” he is right.

You don’t move. Too heartbroken to say everything else or even turn around to see him. You are ashamed, he can’t even look you in the eyes.

He sees you waiting for him and he asks you to follow him to his van.

The ride home is long and torturous. He didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but you don’t blame him. Who could fall for a mess like you?

You fall asleep in the passenger seat of his van, he opens the door carefully and carries you to your bed. He wants to change your clothes but he knows it is not okay, he does peek at your naked thighs before covering your body with the sheets.

His calloused fingers move the hair off your face “I like you too, peach” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead before leaving. You can’t hear him of course, he knows it damn well.

V. Deep fears that the world would divide us.

The last time you talked to Eddie was two weeks ago. He didn’t know how to talk to you since that night, he didn’t know what to tell you. It is now summer break, you are in your bed facing the ceiling and letting the air from your window hit your sweaty body.

You were so bored. Without Eddie it feels like the world just turned gray, you regret everything you said that night. He never should’ve known.

He is now in his trailer, maybe with Chrissy. Your brain starts to think of a hundred scenarios. They could be spending time at the local pool, going to starcourt and eating ice cream, trying on some new clothes, or playing at the arcade.

You miss him. Your whole body aches without him by your side. Your bed feels so empty.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, you are all alone in this gigantic house. It doesn’t feel like home, not without him.

You can’t pick a book and read it to kill time because every book you own is about romance.

You can’t watch movies without Eddie’s sudden comments.

You can’t even watch fucking commercials without him.

So you just let yourself on your bed, waiting for the sheets to swallow you whole.

Night came by after a nap, it was time to close the windows to stop the mosquitoes. It was time to eat so you headed down to the kitchen, the leftovers seem to always keep you company.

You wish he came back. Knocking at your door and getting in. Kissing you.

It doesn’t happen. To you. But it can happen to him.

You take your keys in your hands and head down to the trailer park, it isn’t that late so you go by yourself. With your clammy hands tapping on the steering wheel and a feeling of uncertainty.

It takes you from ten to fifteen minutes to get there and you park your car close to Eddie’s trailer. You’ve given him a ride home before, you know where he lives.

As you get closer to his trailer you hear screams. The door of his trailer opens suddenly and makes you jump. A tall and slightly old man comes out of the trailer, his white tank top is covered with some blood.

No, no, no. You mumble under your breath and run to the trailer. You find Eddie with a cut on his lip, his eye is purple already and his nose is bleeding.

“Eddie?” you whisper, he panics.

“No, no you can’t be here” he gets up from the floor and places his hands on your arms, pushing you out.

“Why? Please I just want to talk”

“You can’t be here! He- if he does something to you I’m never going to forgive myself Please just leave” his breath quickens, and his chest rises up and down. He is nervous, he is scared. The feelings are contagious.

“Come with me, please. Eds-”

“Just fucking leave! please please please, leave right now”

Nothing you do is going to convince him you should stay, as much as you want to. You hear screams of an angry man getting close to the trailer.

Running out back to your car and driving home, the radio becomes an annoying background noise screeching. Your heart is beating so fast out of fear, and your hands are trembling.

You set yourself down on your bed once you get home. You are scared of what could happen to Eddie. You know he is in danger and you also know he doesn’t want to see you.

The tears come back, your eyes are blurry and the walls feel like they are closing in and are about to crush you. You cover yourself with the sheets, as some type of protection, just like when you were little and scared. Yes, you are scared now, so fucking scared. But there is nothing you can do now so you sleep, and you fall asleep crying, again.

VI. I'd kiss you as the lights went out.

The next day goes by quickly, it’s currently midnight and you are sitting in front of the tv watching a random documentary about dolphins. You’ve slept all day so sleep is not an option. A huge bucket of ice cream in your hands gives you a cold feeling of serenity.

A knock on the door makes you jump, the thing you’ve been waiting for.

You open it quickly, and Eddie is there. You look at him with sadness in your eyes, some of his wounds have healed since yesterday.

“Before you say anything… I am sorry, sweetheart” You don’t let him in, and he doesn’t take a step forward “I like you too. I like you so much. I tried to date Chrissy because I thought I could get my mind distracted by the fact that I'm crazy for you. "He licks his lips, he moves his hands in the air as he always does when he explains something or rambles about a thing he loves.

“I was scared to tell you, that night at the party I swear all I could think about was- fuck, I wanted to rip those clothes off of you and kiss every part of your body but I was fucking terrified” his chest rises up and down, his heart is bumping in his ribcage. “I didn’t want to say anything because

I didn’t want to lose you, You are too good to me and I didn’t want you to be with someone like me-”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me” you interrupt, your own heart is beating so fast it could burst.

“I know, I know. That’s why I'm here… is it too late to hang out? Look, I slept all day and some little bird named Steve told me the sunrise at Lovers Lake looks awesome and I really just want to be with you”

You look at him, he is standing at your door confessing his love to you and, weirdly, it doesn’t feel like a dream. It all feels too real, too peaceful.

“A date at midnight? Did you plan this because you look like you even showered”

He lets out a big laugh. You see those dimples you love so much.

“I- I wouldn’t see it as a date because I think we’ve had tons of them” he shakes his head, and his curls bounce with the movement. “Pretty please? Join me on this adventure”

“We must be connected by some kind of thread because I slept all day too” you chuckle, he laughs with you “Sure, I want to be with you. Let me change and I’ll be right back”

You head upstairs quickly as Eddie goes back to his van for something.

With the quickest movements in the world, you manage to get yourself some pretty clothes, a tiny bit of makeup and fix your hair.

Running to the first floor to meet Eddie, your legs stop working as he stands up in your living room with a bouquet.

“You did have this prepared” You are smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt, but you can stop it. After days of missing him, he is now here and everything feels right.

“I did. You look- you look beautiful” he looks at you from the bottom to the top, taking every detail of your figure. “I mean, you always look so beautiful I just-”

You come closer to him, he hands you the bouquet and you take it.

“You are beautiful too, Eds”

Your fingers touch his cheeks, he feels the warmth and breathes in to take everything in. Your scent, your touch, the closeness. Your cheeks have a pink tint from blushing and it makes you look so pretty. He leans in and in a second, his lips are touching yours.

You gasp at the sudden feeling, your whole body electrifies. His hands come to rest on your lower back, keeping you close to him. Your hands travel to his shoulders as you stand on your tippy toes.

His lips trap your bottom lip, sucking in your taste. Your whole heart flutters as your head goes back to catch some air.

“I wanted to do that for so long”

Goosebumps travel from your arms to your lips, missing him already.

“Me too” you bite your lip.

“C’mon, let’s go watch the sunrise sweetheart”

VII. Deep blue but you painted me golden.

The trip to Lovers Lake in the middle of the night resulted in love confessions and a heavy make out session, Eddie packed the back of his van with christmas lights, sheets, and blankets along with some pillows.

You and Eddie sitting in front of each other, his lips crashing into yours as sweet as honey.

“So yeah- that time when you sat down and started tutoring me I fought so hard to pay attention but I just loved the sound of your voice” You take a sip of beer.

“It was hard to teach you when your confused face is just so adorable.

Every pout you gave me was a kiss I wanted to give you” Eddie laughs.

“You can give me all the kisses you want now, I'm all yours”

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, his face glows pink and you let out a chuckle.

“Honey, I will” he takes a sip from his own beer, finishing it.

Alcohol makes both of you giddy, dozy, and dumb. Or maybe it’s just the love you have for each other.

“What time is it?” you murmur against his lips, his hands travel from your waist to the back of your head.

“I have- no idea” he stops, with his head leaned slightly back he watches you. Your lips are puffy and pink, his too. Both of you have a maroon tint on your cheeks. “It’s almost six, we have time” he peeks at the clock on his left hand.

“Alright, c’mere” With your hands placed on his shoulders, you try to get closer to him.

You kiss him. He is addicted to your taste already.

This time the kiss is messy and uncoordinated. His teeth collide with yours, saliva drops from the corner of your mouth.

With a firm hand caressing your back, Eddie helps you fall back with your body pressed against the sheets. Your head rests on a pillow as he gets comfortable on top of you.

You can feel the van getting hotter, a cloud of passion and love around you. Eddie makes a quick move with his knee as it presses against your hot core.

Absent-mindedly you start to grind against his knee, feeling the combination of friction with his sloppy kisses sending chills through your spine.

His lips now travel all the way to your neck, he presses sweet wet kisses against your skin.

“Eddie-” you whisper, letting the air out of your lungs. “I want you”

You have been dreaming about this, he has been dreaming about this.

This moment. This very golden moment is going to live in your head forever.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your collarbone, his lips tingling your skin.

“I’m sure, please”

He takes a break from the kisses, looking at your sweet face.

“Have you ever…?” he asks.

“No,” you bite your lip nervously.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise”

You nod, and he returns to kissing your neck. One of his hands travels to your thighs, he gives a slight massage on them making his way closer to the heat between your legs.

His cock gets hard against his pants as he feels the wet spot between your legs.

“You are so soaking wet, peach-”

With both hands, he takes off your panties, gently. He is so gentle with you.

“And so, so pretty”

Eddie starts to rub your clit with his thumb, his circular motions make your toes curl. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. With his mouth pressed against your jaw two of his fingers get inside you slowly, the pain of it quickly goes away and turns into lust. His fingers move in and out, making sure not to hurt you and make you feel good.

Your back curls and your thigh touches the bulge on his pants.

“Eds, please”

“What do you want, princess? Say it”

“I want you to fuck me”

Your voice makes his heart flutter. He leans in to kiss you more as he curls your fingers inside you.

“Oh god, Ed-Eddie” you mewl, your head too giddy to make up words.

“Good girl” his voice is now deeper, and his pupils dilate as his body perks up with electricity.

His fingers leave your pussy, you whine and he tells you not to worry.

He is gentle on taking your clothes off, smiling after admiring every inch of you. He wets his lips with his tongue admiring your figure.

“You are so fucking beautiful, princess”

“You too, baby”

The mood has clearly changed, you are still so horny and whining for each other. But Eddie has decided to take his time to make you feel like the princess you are.

Your hands help him take his clothes off, you admire his bare chest and your eyes focus on his tattoos. When he takes his pants and boxers off it is inevitable for you to take a look.

Your mouth waters at the sight. Eddie caresses your cheek and leaves small kisses on your lips as he goes inside you. You feel his hot cock

inside you, it twitches as you stretch and leave out a louder moan.

A grin shows up on Eddie’s face as he thrusts into you. Your nails scratch his back slightly. He feels his skin burn.

“Feeling good?”

“Yes, god yes”

He groans at the same time he increases the speed. Your moans get louder and he kisses your neck again, his bare chest meets yours and you whimper. He is moving on top of you, his cock inside you, and his chest rubs your nipples.

The tiny knot in your stomach untangles as chills go down your spine. You moan as your orgasm comes to you.

“You are such a good girl, go on cum for me”

His words are sweet, he keeps praising you as you finally come.

“So so good baby, I’m going to-”

He moves back but your hands are quick to tangle around his neck, not letting him leave.

“Do it, baby. Cum all over me”

Your encouraging words get into Eddie’s head, his thrust becomes sloppier as he relaxes and he comes into you as requested.

The hot sticky combination of cum slides down your legs as Eddie hugs you and pulls you to him to the side. His back is now pressed against the dirty sheets, your head falls in his chest.

He kisses your forehead and runs his hand through your back.

The sun starts to show up.

Eddie leans forward to open the back doors of his van, he comes back to his place next to you as quickly as possible and hugs you harder.

The lake glows with a yellow tint, the water now shows a baby blue color.

“I love you, sweetheart”

Surprised you turn your head to look at him, you give him a big smile.

“I love you too”

You stay there a couple of minutes, touching each other and loving each other.

there it is! my little baby. feedback is appreciated REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR! and DON’T throw a punch like it has been described!!!

tagging everyone who interacted, tysm 💕

@ali-r3n @witchwolflea @ghostlyfleur @littlegingerbat @live-love-be-unique @expiredcum21 @emma77645 @silent-stories @hellfirenacht @eddiemunson95 @tenthmoon

#leia writes ⊹ ꒱#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x f!oc #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x best friend

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faevi · 1 year ago

Text

HEAT WAVES. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: The heatwave is unbearable and your landlord threatens you with a bill. You find yourself desperate to make money before losing your home. Good thing, your kind boss Gojo Satoru is here to save you.

Word Count: 20,486 (i'm so sorry LMAO).

Content / Trigger Warning: female reader (she/her). DARK CONTENT (i mean it), manipulation, corruption, bribing, brainwashing, dubcon, sacrilegious, worshipping (a human as a god), dacryphilia, humiliation, fear of becoming homeless, fear in general, degradation, possessiveness, innocence (doesn’t know much about sex asides from what media teaches aka it’s mostly beneficial for the man), loss of virginity, master kink, handjob, blowjob, fucking reader’s mouth, swallowing cum, fingering, cunningulous, unprotected sex, creampie, slapping (on the breasts), pain, bowing to a man, so i guess sorta dehumanising content, sadism/masochism, hickeys, pet-names, satoru really is just.. lowkey nasty & immoral - but he cares in his own way, obsessed gojo, really messy - saliva, cum, etc. he cums twice, huge cock, dirty talk, reader is referred to as a maid —

i think that’s it? please (kindly) let me know if i unintentionally missed something.

Note: Important to warn that there’s mentions of stress about money and losing a home, so desperation to not become homeless etc. If this is a sensitive topic for you, please don’t read! But also remember that this is just fiction and in no shape or form do I agree with such actions in real life. Absolutely not. I would not want anyone to ever be in this position. I wish I don’t have to state the obvious but alas, better to be careful. People enjoy things differently within fiction compared to the real world. Look at people who love horror, for example. Fiction doesn't equal real world, please remember. <3 p.s. not my best writing and i'll always say that. always room for improvement. If you find any mistakes, please ignore!

I also want to give a little thank you to @mochimooon for listening to my idea, helping me out & even inspiring some of my writing/quotes. Please check them out! c:

I hope you enjoy if you’re reading and please let me know if you do! <3

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Fuck, it’s hot.

Obnoxiously so, you think as you hover your face in front of your fan that sits on top of your dresser. It’s small & cheap. Just like most things in your very tiny apartment. You frown in annoyance as the fast-spinning fans begin to stutter. “Don’t you dare.” You threaten the piece of junk before sighing and tugging the third drawer, angling it right so it actually opens. Hands blindly pull out the last set of pants in hopes of wearing them for your shift. You ignore with guilt of the pile of washing sitting in the corner. In your defence— You’ve been too busy worrying about bills and your health than dirty clothes.

Bills. The absolute pain of your existence, minus the current heatwave that has hit the city like a tonne of bricks, surprising everyone. You bring the piece of clothing to your nose, sniffing. “Excellent, sniff test passed.” You joke lightly before holding them to your legs… There’s a big hole directly in the middle of the pant leg. A whine falls naturally from your parted lips, feeling almost disbelief at how things aren’t going your way this morning. One hair grips your hair anxiously, wondering what you could wear to your shift.

It may just be a housekeeping job but, you’re still supposed to look somewhat presentable. The only options you have are tiny shorts. They may be a blessing for this heatwave because it’s not so suffocating but there’s just no way… Is there? You think for a moment, falling down onto your bed and hearing it creak.

The man you housekeep for; Gojo Satoru, is usually at the office building, trusting you enough with a key to come in, clean up and do other duties before greeting him briefly in the evening and leaving. Sometimes you catch him in the morning to wish him a good day and he’s always wearing that handsome grin on his face, crystal blue eyes holding warmth. It always made your day better when you saw him. Satoru is a good boss to have! That’s all. He’s nice enough to understand most situations and pays your wage the proper hourly rate. Surely, he’d understand the misery of working in heat (you just know it’s hot, even when the aircon is blowing) and that shorts are the solution. He won’t be there to see how tiny they are until the very end and it is long forgotten until the next day.

Yeah. You think it may work. You being the professional and polite girl that you are, will still ask him through a message on your phone. You crawl over to snatch your phone up, ignoring how your heart starts to speed up, cheeks all hot. It’s the weather. You breathe in deeply, fingers rapid on the keyboard before you press enter and toss your phone, suddenly feeling flustered.

{ Y/N } good morning, sir! i hate to trouble you before i even arrive, especially since you must be busy getting ready to leave. do you think it’s okay if i change my uniform for today and wear shorts? the heatwave is calling for a change! i promise to still work hard!

It was mere seconds before you heard your phone vibrate, frantically grabbing it to read his response.

{ boss 😇 } mornin’! go for it :) maybe i’ll wear shorts too 😌.

An amused giggle falls from your lips, mind-visioning the sight of the tall male in a pair of shorts at his workplace. It’d be a sight to see. Perhaps a sight you’re actually starting to crave… Shorts to reveal his toned thighs? You frantically shake your head to snap out of the thoughts, almost embarrassed to catch yourself thinking of your boss like that. “Stay professional, Y/N..” You mumble before you finally stand up to get ready, actively trying to think of anything else besides the overdue bills and your charming boss.

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

Finally ready to leave for work, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the short hallway. You briefly pause to inspect yourself in the mirror, cheeks feeling hotter than before. The pair of shorts were— Well… /short/. Tightly fitted around mid-thigh, fabric cupping around your ass cheeks and threatening to ride up with every small movement. Your shirt is sadly your typical polo work shirt. It’s a bit baggy so you’re able to move freely but regrettably not long enough to hide your lower half. The first button on the shirt is undone to pitifully attempt to cool off in the heat, only wishing the other two were undone as well.

You sigh softly, pinching the bridge of your nose. Satoru won’t be home as you work around his loft. Maybe if you move fast enough, he won’t even have time to check out your temporary uniform change before you step into the elevator in the meeting. You breathe in deeply, index finger pressing against the mirror. “It’s fine! Just go succeed the—“

There’s a loud knock on the door. Your head snaps towards it before hastily approaching to yank the door open. You have to use force to even open it. You often try to mention that it seems dangerous if there’s a fire hazard. What if you get stuck? You’re face to face with your landlord. An unpleasant old man who just shoves multiple envelopes against your chest.

“Your rent is overdue, here. Also got your other mail for you. If you don’t pay by the end of the week, you’re outta here.”

Your eyes widen, hands clammy as you take hold of the envelopes, your heart drastically sinking. “Wh-What? I just paid—“ You attempt to defend yourself and it only falls on deaf ears as the landlord grins at you. “Don’t care, that’s your problem. Not mine. Seven days, Y/N.” He warns before hoisting up his pants and moving down the hallway, probably eager to torment his next victim. You hastily rip open the envelopes to see the amount of money you owe. It’s not only rent but, other necessities as well. Tears threaten to spill and you bring a hand up to wipe at your eyes.

How are you going to get this large amount of money before the week ends? You’ll be kicked out and have nowhere to go. Living out of your car would be the last resort and the one you’re forced to take. A shaky breath escapes, stuffing the envelopes into your backpack before slamming the door shut behind you. You have to get to work. It’s the only way you get money even… if it’s not going to be enough. Still, your heart feels thankful towards Gojo Satoru for hiring you and you weren’t gonna let him down.

So quietly, mind swirling with disastrous thoughts and eyes stinging; you travel to work.

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

You find yourself on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city, keycard swiping against the small machine lodged into the wall and pressing the four-digit code. The door unlocks and smoothly opens as you push it. Nothing like your one. You didn’t bump into Satoru on the ground floor as he usually makes his way out. So naturally you just assume that he’s left for the day. It’s a relief to you. You’re paranoid that your face is all puffy from crying hard in the car; cursing at bills and the heat.

Ugh, the heat. Thank goodness for the gentle cool air blowing through the vents. Did the man in charge of you turn it on for you before he left? You smile softly, dropping your backpack in the usual corner. People often depict Satoru as this overly confident man without a care in the world, often oblivious to how selfish he can be — He may have his moments but, you know how kind he can be. Not to mention hot… You frantically shake your head, hands slapping against your cheeks. “Now’s not the time to be giddy over your dumb crush on your boss. Work.” You mumble under your breath, teeth gnawing on your lower lip.

You open one of the many doors in the long hallway to reveal your cleaning supplies. Satoru allows you to keep it in his home so you don’t have to tug it along for each journey. Yet again, kind. Finally, you get to work and desperately try to ignore how tight the flimsy shorts feel around your ass each time you bend over. You also try to ignore the haunting thoughts of your bills.

It’s going to be a long day…

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

Satoru isn’t in the office building today. He decided to stay home, unable to be coaxed out of the penthouse because of the nasty heatwave. That and he’s been ‘inspired’ by a very polite text message about shorts and why the hell would he leave now? The white-haired man glances towards the office door that’s slightly ajar, listening to muffled sounds of you already starting to work. Utterly oblivious to him being home.

Fuck, he finds you so cute. He remembers since the day he met you that he’d hire you instantly. Bowing towards him and looking so innocent as you express eagerness to be his maid— He refuses to call you ‘housekeeper’. It’s far too boring. It’s a pity that society deems it unethical and also impractical to wear pretty maid dresses to work. Now it’s a dumb polo shirt and usually pants. Usually… Not today. His gaze is wide and manic. He’s so eager to see you in a pair of shorts. The white-haired male doesn’t care if they’re just baggy basketball shorts either. Shorts are shorts. Shorter than pants. Skin is showing. Your soft, pretty skin.

Satoru groans quietly, annoyed with his stubbornness to hide for a while before surprising you. He wants to see you now. Long fingers thread through his white hair, crystal blue eyes falling back to his laptop and lips forming a natural pout, typing dramatically slow on the keyboard with one hand. Still, it will be worth it to see you let your guard down before being surprised by his presence. He can already tell that you’d behave so cute that it’s a miracle he won’t bend you over any flat surface and pound into you until you’re a babbling mess. ��Safe to say you’re obsessed and want your dick wet with her cute pussy, Satoru..” He mutters beneath his breath, snorting.

Obsessed feels like an understatement. Satoru feels his infatuation for you grow deeply every day. Every single time you bid him farewell and smiled so sweetly, leading him to jerk himself on the couch with your name escaping his lips. He even deliberately goes late to work just to catch you in the morning, swearing you’re the reason for a good day and everything going his way. Nearly everything. He often thinks of just how exactly he could really get you to be his. It’d be scary to a normal person if they could ever read his mind and realise the dark thoughts he has to try and charm you. It’s just so hard when you’re determined to stay professional and keep things to be strictly business. So yeah, maybe he has to stick to his filthy fantasies for now. Satoru always gets what he wants in the end. He just needs to be patient.

The penthouse is big and with a glance at the time, Satoru assumes you’re in the kitchen by now to clean and prepare meals. Perfect time for a coffee. The corners of his lips twitch, biting back a childish grin and lifts himself up from the office chair. He knows he mentioned wearing shorts in the text message but, he decided on the other way around. Tracksuit pants and no shirt. He works hard at the gym daily and so surely, his beautiful toned body would entice you or at least distract you. The elastic band of the tracksuit pants hang low on his hips, revealing the sinister ‘v’ that leads down to somewhere that will hopefully make you look. He’s downright awful for this behaviour. Terribly unprofessional but all he can think of is his cock.

He quietly steps out of the office room, thankful to actually step away from the screen and walks through the hallway and then the large open space that connects the lounge area with the dining and kitchen. Satoru stuffs his hands into the pockets of his grey tracksuit pants before approaching the kitchen and, holy fuck. His eyes instantly focus on the gorgeous sight of you bending over in front of him, wiping your cloth across the cabinet doors. The pair of shorts aren’t like basketball ones at all. Silly of him to think baggy clothing just because your aura is so innocent. It distracted him from the idea of tighter clothing. Just like your booty shorts now, riding up between your perky ass cheeks and squirming to try and feel more comfortable. He’s going to hell for imagining himself yanking the fabric up further until you do that cute little gasp of surprise and look so embarrassed. Satoru just knows, deep in his core, that embarrassment would look good on you.

Still, he needs to behave. Just a little. You’re a sweet person and he needs to keep his sadistic ways away from you. In his defence (he’s often trying to defend himself against his own thoughts), he has ‘loving’ fantasies towards you. He just wants you to himself. Satoru shakes out of it before casually walking over until he’s standing directly next to you, flicking the switch on the kettle. “Morning, Y/N. You don’t need to work so hard, y’know? Give the dust monsters a fighting chance.” He jokes, reaching for his favourite mug; a gift from you. It’s crystal blue and reminds him of how flustered you were when explaining it made you think of his eyes.

You gasp sharply out of surprise at a sudden presence, trying to grab onto the edge of the bench for support but failing to do so and fall directly onto your butt, eyes wide as you look up at the tall male beside you. He’s home!? Heat rises in your cheeks and you scramble to stand up, fingers twisting the cloth. “S-Sir! I didn’t- I didn’t know you were home. I’m so- Sorry. I should have greeted you…” You trail off quietly, shy gaze lingering on his toned upper body. He’s shirtless. Oh god, he’s shirtless. It’s not shorts that he decided to wear for the heat. It’s less clothing.

The corners of his lips curl up to form an amused smirk, eating up every bit of your reaction. It’s just what he wanted. Luck really is on his side every second of the day. He especially enjoys the lingering gaze of yours on his body. Being shirtless was the right call. He feigns innocence as he spoons the coffee ground into his mug, smiling gently in your direction. “Don’t apologise. It’s on me for being a hermit in my office. It’s too hot to go to work. I’d say it was a good call on those shorts.” Satoru says, voice low and smooth. His eyes shift down to look at your shorts once more. The front view is even better. You laugh shyly, thighs pressing together in a pathetic attempt to try and hide. It does nothing but fuel his secret desires further. You turn away to start wiping another flat surface, hand trembling. You need to stay professional and stop looking at his eight-pack. It was a nice distraction from your thoughts of bills at least. Satoru’s presence alone is always enough to do that.

The white-haired male forces his eyes towards your face this time, blindly pouring boiling water into his mug before slowly setting the kettle down. You’ve been crying. He can tell by how puffy it is around your eyes and how your free hand tries to rub any evidence away. Oh no… No, no, no. He doesn’t like you upset. Satoru stays quiet, lips pressing firmly together as he stirs the coffee. Who does he need to hurt, he wonders. Is it a boy? God, if it is… His knuckles are going to be all bloody and bruised. Fuck. He’s jumping to conclusions again. He clears his throat, body turning to face yours. “Y/N, are you okay? If you’re feeling unwell, you can take time off... You know that, right? You’ll still be paid.” Satoru expresses with warmth to his tone, taking a sip of the bitter coffee.

Your head whips right around, eyes wide and hands coming up to shake frantically. “No! No, I need to work. Please. I’m honestly okay. I love working for you. You’re always so kind and thoughtful. Please, don’t think anything. Let me keep working. I’m okay, see?” You express earnestly, lips curling to form a wide grin. It prompts a soft smile to grace his features, stepping closer until there’s only a tiny gap between you. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of his bare skin. His free hand tenderly cups your chin, thumb rubbing over the soft skin. Oh. He’s touching you for the first time. Why does it feel so good? You shyly shift your gaze upwards, looking up at him from beneath your long lashes.

Satoru curses internally when he feels his cock twitch from witnessing such a sweet look from you. He knows that he shouldn’t touch you. It’s breaking boundaries but, he really couldn’t resist. Not when you’re clearly haunted with thoughts and pretending to be okay. He cares for you. In so many ways. “Alright, keep working. Just know that if you ever need something, your master is here for you. I’ll take care of you.” He says rather boldly before pulling his hand away. “I’m going back to work. My door is open.” Satoru reminds, leaving you speechless as he returns to his office, sipping on his coffee.

Master…

Satoru really just called himself that. A hand presses against your chest, feeling your heart race. That’s the first time you’ve ever heard such a title in person and yet, it sounds so much prettier than ‘boss’. He even said he’d take care of you. You twist the cloth in your grip, trying to force down the giddiness you start to feel. You’re so thankful to have someone so kind in charge of you. Still, he’s not paying you to stand around! You need to repay him for his kindness. With a swirl of Satoru’s words and thoughts of your overdue bills in mind, you push yourself to work.

The tall male slumps against the inner wall of his office, crystal blue eyes staring blankly ahead and a sigh escaping from his lips. That was a dangerous game to play and yet, Satoru couldn’t resist the chance of putting ideas into your head. You may be so innocent but, he’s determined that his words would have done something to you. However, he wonders what does trouble you. Even he would put a pause on his selfish ways to help you if life calls for it. He walks over to his chair, setting his mug down before slumping into his chair, long legs spreading out. He stares at the mug, mind already starting to be pumped full of images in tight little shorts and his large hand mindlessly palming himself. You look so cute today and he just wants you so badly… What he really needs to do is pay attention—

Satoru snaps out of his thoughts once more, grumbling before resuming work, hoping that you’ll visit him throughout the day.

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

You’re stupid for thinking that you could go through the day without your stress levels rising. It’s the middle of the day now, most rooms clean and what you should be doing is making lunch for the older male. The one who is so sweet to you and yet, you’re standing in the middle of the lounge room, tears spilling down your cheeks and hands trembling as they frantically try to wipe them away. You’re supposed to be strong and resilient; think you could get through anything the world throws at you. Yet, you’re going to be homeless by the end of the week and living in your tiny car. You barely have money in your bank account to cover even a phone bill let alone rent.

You sniffle quietly, chest feeling tight as you glance towards the scattered letters at your feet. Life is far too cruel to you. Especially when you work for someone so wonderful. Satoru pays you well and yet, it’s not enough for your stupid landlord. Satoru… You look towards the hallway, eyes focused on the open door to his office. He did say he’ll take care of you, right? Will he help find a solution to your hot mess? Will he even comfort you? Oh, how you crave to just be surrounded by his warmth. You breathe in deeply, ignoring how shaky you sound when you exhale and slowly begin to approach Satoru’s office until you’re standing outside and looking into his world.

He’s working hard, fingers rapid on the keyboard but they stop instantly and his crystal blue eyes look up towards you, lips curling. He’s always able to sense your presence. “Y/N, finally visiting me? I was counting down the time.” He half-jokes, standing up from his chair. Satoru instantly notices your misery and how it’s written all over your face. “What’s wrong?” He asks, brows knitting together to form a frown of concern and quickly walks around the desk to approach you. Instantly, you stumble forward until you’re pressing into him, hands clenched together as if you were about to pray to him. “Please— Please, give me extra sh-shifts. I need to— I need to work more. I have bills to pay.” You hiccup between the words that frantically spill from your lips, tears gliding down your cheeks.

Satoru finds his heart racing, conflicted with himself from finding the sight of you begging to be heavenly. His large hands rest gently on your shoulders, giving a squeeze before stroking along your bare arms. “Extra shifts? What, you already work nearly every day, Y/N. That’s not healthy... Bills?” He asks, hoping for more of an explanation. Why is his heart racing with hope from the sight of your despair? He’s a sick individual. Your weight is leaning on him entirely now and Satoru wraps his arms around your trembling figure to provide you with the comfort you were craving. Your tears smearing against his bare chest.

You could barely focus on how being embraced by your superior has always been a secret dream of yours; feeling too much distress and fear of what’s to happen to you. You sob loudly and Satoru is thankful you’re not looking up at him to see the complete bliss written across his face. You’re relying on him. Not someone else. It’s him that you’re clinging onto and begging for help. He should feel guilty for being so happy in this moment. Your nails dig into his bare skin as you cling, your voice muffled against his chest. “Please... Just give me more shifts… If— If I don’t pay my bills by the end of the week, I’ll be homeless! I’ll have to... I’ll have to live in my car and I just need to pay these bills. I have nowhere to go!”

Satoru isn’t going to hell. That’s not what it feels like now. No. This must be heaven. Everything just keeps landing in front of him on a silver platter and he’s more than ready to devour. You’re desperate and in need of money for petty bills and he has more than enough to buy that shitty apartment complex ten times over if he really wanted to. He swears he’s not evil. He cares for you. It’s just that he’s selfish and perhaps a little sadistic. Well, he tries to convince himself of that. It’s going to be a pleasure to finally corrupt you to the core and have you tangled around his long fingers. The plan just instantly appears in his head like a lightbulb flicking on, listening to your sweet cries.

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s awful. How could your landlord be so mean to you?” Satoru says so softly, strong arms wrapping around your smaller frame and he hugs you tightly, not allowing you to see the brief sinister smirk that lingers on his lips and the way his eyes darken with joy for what he’s going to do next. You continue to whimper out your pleas against his broad shoulder. Your boss— No… Master sounds so much more comforting. Your Master is so kind to you. You could feel his warmth soak into your trembling body. The summer heat couldn’t even make this unpleasant.

“I... I don’t know… I already paid rent and he just hits me with more bills. Sir, I have nowhere else to go! I really need the money! Please, I’ll do anything you say if you can just give me more shifts or something? I— I’ll fix things, or try to! I’ll go deliver things? Please—“ You feel his hands gently prying you off of his body, eyes meeting. He’s looking at you with so much kindness. How could anyone ever think that this man is selfish and cruel? The white-haired male cups your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears as he gently shushes you, coaxing you to slowly calm down from crying. Tiny hiccups escape and snot threatens to drip. Still, you don’t think anything could stop your tears besides a wad of cash.

You’ll do anything for him. It’s like music to his ears; aside from your pretty crying. “I don’t know, Y/N... You already do so much, I can’t really think of anything..” He sighs, watching the way your eyes widen with horror at the thought of not being able to make enough in time. Fuck, his cock is throbbing so hard. He’s awful for doubling the fear you feel. His hands take hold of yours to give a squeeze and pull you into a tight embrace again, a hand resting against the back of your head. It feels so nice, the way his hand strokes your hair. “I can’t give you extra shifts, but I’d love to help you out. I can give you the money to help you not lose your home..”

Your heart sparks with hope! Satoru is so caring towards you. You look towards him, fingers curling into fists that rest against his toned chest. Cute, he thinks. His eyes light up, lips curling to form a smile.

“Except, you’ll have to do something for me in return. You said you’ll do anything, right? It’s nothing too difficult, love.” Satoru purrs, head mimicking your own head tilting, finger tapping against your chin. “I’ll help you with rent if you let me have you.” He proposes, trying not to laugh with endearment from your look of confusion. You pull back a little, though hands refusing to leave his warm torso.

“Have me? You already do, sir. I work for you. What do you mean..” You trail off, heart starting to speed up anxiously, though laced with excitement. You couldn’t understand why. The white-haired male chuckles, pushing hair out of your face and forcing you to look up at him with a grip on your chin.

“I mean, I’ll take care of all those troubling and nasty bills if you let me have your body, Y/N. It’s that easy. You’ll feel so good, too. There’s nothing else you could do for me because you already take such good care of me.” Satoru says, hand tenderly stroking your arm.

You look at him in wild confusion, merely because you didn’t ever expect this to be the answer. He wants your body. Satoru laughs a little, thinking you’re cute for the thousandth time. Dumb little brain needs to be taken care of, too. “Sex, Y/N. Making love.” He emphasises the last term. It’s deliberate as he thinks it’d entice your sweet heart more than the blunt term ‘fucking’. Everything he says, every touch he gives; all have a motive.

Embarrassment washes over you and your hand grips helplessly onto his muscular bicep. “I know what you meant! I just—“ You pause, mind thinking it over. Satoru, the man who has hired you, will give you money to take care of bills and in return, you sleep with him. Your mind is a hot mess, thinking so many things and especially why on earth would someone so gorgeous and with a heart of gold; want you. Your mind travels to a memory. One of when you were in university before you dropped out because of not being able to afford it. A professor got fired and a student was expelled because she had sex with him for good grades in return. Such situations are viewed down upon.

Satoru isn’t worried. He just watches you with patience (though his cock certainly wasn’t feeling that) and his long fingers lightly play with yours. He knows you’ll give in because he’ll lead you to that path. Besides, he knows you’re attracted to him to some degree. That’s been obvious since day one. He pulls away to walk towards a cabinet as you begin to speak.

“Sir, I-I’m flattered that you want to help me and… that this is the only way but, isn’t it against, you know, rules?”

Satoru laughs lightheartedly at your words, prompting you to feel hot in the face again. He reveals a safe, typing in the passcode swiftly before opening it up. Again, every action of his is intentional. Especially when the insides are exposed to you. Stacks and stacks of cash. One tiny stack alone could pay rent for a year. He tilts his head, noticing your shocked expression at the sight of the small percentage of his riches.

“I make the rules, Y/N. Do you really think I’d let you get in trouble and suggest this? I care about you.”

You feel your heart flutter gently from those words. He cares, you know he does. Always so friendly to you and goes out of his way. This really must be the only option he has left if he wants to help you. You sniffle quietly, a hand rubbing at your eyes that feel so puffy and tired. How’d he even think of choosing your body after seeing you cry is a miracle. Still, you don’t know if you should do this. Especially since you’ve never had sex before. You better speak your truth before it’s too late. “Sir, I don’t think I can…”

Satoru sighs out dramatically, hand moving to close the safe, his broad back facing you. You’re not able to see the sinister smirk he’s displaying as he speaks. “Then I don’t know what to do, Y/N. Sweetheart, you might actually end up on the stree—“

“No, I just mean I’m a virgin! I want to take up this huge favour that you’re willing to do for me but I’m a virgin, I haven’t done anything let alone be kissed. You deserve someone experienced, I can’t give you what you need.” You begin to choke up as tears begin to spill down your cheeks when you realise that nothing can be done. You feel utterly hopeless and even useless. Your boss— Master, is stretching out his hand to save you, only asking for your body in return and you can’t because why would he want someone so stupidly inexperienced?

The white-haired tilts his head upwards after hearing the wonderful news. A virgin. Untouched. Innocent. You haven’t been touched by anyone and could be all his to corrupt. He can be the one to twist and shape you into someone that revolves around him. You could even become the one to worship him like a God who saved you from your pitiful life. It feels even more special because of the simple fact that it is you. The one he’s been craving hungrily for since day one. The one he really wanted to have fall for him and rely heavily on him. That you’d only ever look his way because how could some other person, man or woman; ever conquer when it’s him who’s taking all of your firsts and having you tangled in his web. He will become your one and only to worship and cherish.

You definitely wouldn’t want someone else when he’s manipulated you into agreeing and finally having your eyes open to pleasure. Pleasure only he can give. Satoru feels that confident in himself and his shoulders nearly shake from silent laughter. He already feels like he’s won. Satoru breathes in deeply before he turns around to face you, eyes now showing concern for you. He frowns, pretending to not be giddy at the sight of your tears and walks back over to you. The safe is opened slightly to still reveal the contents.

“I accept you for who you are, Y/N. It might be off-putting to other men that you’ve never had sex or as I like to say, make love but, it isn’t to me. It just makes you even more special in my eyes.” Satoru says, hand tenderly stroking your cheek and gently wiping the tears away. Fuck, how he’d love to lick them off your cute face instead. You frown a little at first at his words, an unpleasant twist in your stomach that prompts your hands to reach out for him. For comfort. He’s right. Other men would look at you unpleasantly for being so inexperienced…

Satoru thinks you’re special, though. It coaxes butterflies to appear in your stomach, reminding you how they often seem to come alive whenever Satoru is around. You smile shyly, cheeks stained with tears and you tilt into his hand, thinking of his proposal. He’ll help you with your bills if you just give your body to him. He doesn’t care about your virginity and is still willing to. You bite down on your lip, leaning in close and a fleeting glance at the safe full of money. You care for Satoru and deeply respect him. Still… Is this right?

He notices it and bites back a chuckle. You’re clearly desperate to not lose a roof over your head. In all honesty, Satoru wants to beat your landowner up. Violently. It angers him that you’ve been put in a position and feel complete despair. He hates when others are cruel to you but, he’ll still selfishly take the chance to take you for himself. Nothing could put a stop to that. Not even a gun to his head. It’s safe to say that Satoru knows that he lacks morals. Does he care how unethical it is to coax his personal maid into sex? Fuck no. His dick definitely agrees with his plan, too. He continues to gaze down at you, stroking your cheek. You just need a little push and he knows you’ll fall over the edge and desperately reach for him. He’ll bless you with his hand reaching out to hold you before you could fall into darkness.

“Let’s make love, Y/N. I’ll pay your rent just as I promise. Besides, don’t you want to give up your virginity to someone who truly cares about you or would you rather give it to some man at the bar, just wanting to get his dick wet? I’ll make you feel good. Let me take care of you. Let me save you.” His voice is quiet and low as he bends down to whisper against your ear, warm breath fanning against it. Checkmate, he thinks as his eyes never leave his prize.

This is your virginity. You only get one shot. Body, heart & soul already yearn for the older male, yelling at you that there’s no one else you could find that would do better than Satoru. They agree with their Master’s words and now your mind is starting to agree too. No one else could do it. Satoru wants to make love with you and help you ease your troubles. No one would ever do that. Just your master. This tall, white-haired man has always been so selfless. So kind and loving towards you. You won’t have to worry anymore. It just makes sense to agree.

Shyly, your arms wrap around his neck and you have to lean up on your toes. Has he always been so tall? He towers above you, physique looking so beautifully carved like it’s a Greek statue of a God. You feel so hot despite the cool air blowing from the aircon, looking up at him. Satoru’s hands are cautious on your hips, thumbs dipped beneath the shirt to rub comforting circles against your soft skin. He really is willing to save you. “I want to, Sir. If I give myself, you’ll help me with my bills and take care of me for my first time... It makes sense. I want it all with you.” You express through a whisper, ignoring how your heart races so excitedly for sins that are about to be committed. You always had an innocent crush on your boss and now he’s doing all of this. For you.

An almost manic grin appears from hearing you finally agree, bending slightly to press a kiss to your jawline, breathing in deeply. Satoru could smell your sweet perfume mixed with your sweat. Fucking perfect. He’s finally getting what he’s always wanted. Thank fuck for the overdue bills. “Your Master will take good care of you in return, baby. Don’t worry your pretty little head about those bills anymore. Just let go and succumb to me.” Satoru purrs, coaxing you into feeling a mixture of giddiness and embarrassment as you nod with eagerness.

“Don’t think the office is the right place for this.” Satoru thinks aloud before easily hoisting you up into his hold. He guides your legs around his waist, hands cupping just beneath your perky butt and briefly, he thanks the heatwave for prompting you to wear shorts. “Sir? Where will we go?” You ask, too flustered to use logic at the given time.

“Mm, call me Master from now on. It’s cuter from your lips. Is there nothing in that small brain of yours, baby?” He teases, walking down the hallway. Your cheeks flush from the humiliation of his words, trying to hide your face. He looks up above, mouthing ‘thank you’ — To himself. All his hard work has paid off. “Where does sex usually happen, do you not know?” He mocks, cock straining against his tracksuit pants.

You whine, frantically pulling away to look at him. “I know where sex happens! I just had… a dumb moment.” You huff, helping with pushing the door open to his master bedroom as he nudges it with his foot. He coos, endeared by your brief feistiness and kisses your temple. “Of course you do, Y/N. Only a dumb baby sometimes.” Satoru chuckles and you feel your heart flutter from hearing one of your favourite sounds. It relaxes you. Only a little, which is only natural for something big that’s about to happen in your life. Satoru gently sets you down on the polished wooden floor and walks slowly over to the bed, pretending to inspect it. There’s a circular rug beneath the king-size bedroom. He may have been prompted in the shop by how you praised the fuzziness of it and that he wouldn’t want you hurting your knees when he finally gets you between his legs. Ha. He really is a winner. Never the loser kind.

He stands there before the bed. He sighs deeply and turns towards you. Satoru has to ignore how his heart aches from the cute sight of you nervously fidgeting. “You know, Y/N... I’m really helping you here. You’re always so polite to me but, I was wondering if you could show me how deeply thankful you are for me, your master. Will you?” He asks, voice laced with sweetness. You’re oblivious to the fact that he’s testing your obedience, curious if you really would do anything. Including something some would say is humiliating.

It’s not humiliating at all to you and instead, it makes perfect sense to you. He’s gone out of his way a few years ago to hire you and now he’s going even further. Quickly, you drop down to your knees and your face scrunches slightly from the impact. You’re not close enough for the fuzzy carpet. Even though you feel so flustered, you lower your upper body until your nose presses against the wood and your hands overlap just before you. You’re bowing as deeply as you can, tears of relief threatening to spill. “Th-Thank you, Master. This means the world to me. I’ll thank you over and over.” You whisper breathlessly. You could feel your shorts rising from the movement, perky ass cheeks on display as you bow towards him.

Satoru is more thankful for his phone in his pocket, slyly pulling it out to hold it up and snapping a photo of the glorious sight of you bowing before him, thanking him for how his thick cock will stretch out your virgin pussy— Well, he knows the gratitude is beyond that. He’s grinning a little, still in almost disbelief that everything is going his way. He may be confident in his abilities but, there was always that chance of everything falling apart and you leaving. His heart aches at the thought of that. He’d do anything and everything to make you stay. Even force if he had to. He clears his throat, grin lessening to a soft smile. “You’re okay with me taking a photo, right? Sweet girl, you look so cute when you’re bowing to me.” Frankly, he’d still keep the photo but it’s nice to get your consent either way.

You whine quietly at his words, peeking up at him and noticing him setting his phone aside. “Master can do anything he wants..” You mumble shyly, face feeling hot once more. Is your heart going to leap out of your chest? That’s what it feels like. Satoru walks over until his bare feet are in front of your eyes. You lift yourself up a little to look up towards his gorgeous face as he towers above you. Your saviour. “Y/N, are you happy to give me your first of firsts?” His voice is low and deep, yet so silky smooth that you find yourself nodding eagerly. Truth be told, you always dreamt of giving him your first kiss. You have been crushing on him hard and just stubbornly tried to stay professional.

“I want Master to have it! I want him to show me what it’s like, I want…” You trail off, longing gaze falling to his soft-looking lips. “To taste my Master.” You finally confess and Satoru couldn’t stop himself from smirking, pleased with your response. You’re still in disbelief at everything that is going on. Still nervous about the bills— It’s hard to take your mind off of them. Satoru will help with that. You watch as he stands up and your lips part in silent awe. From this angle, he really does appear like a God saving you. His crystal blue eyes focus on you as he begins to step away, his heart leaping when you desperately reach out for him. “Come on, baby girl. Crawl. You’ll reach the bed soon or, is it me that you’re wanting to reach?” He teases lightly, prompting you to huff and start to crawl on all fours in his direction, ignoring the annoyance of your booty shorts riding up between your ass cheeks. It’s definitely him that you want to reach.

Satoru settles on the edge of the king-size bed, eyes refusing to blink as he watches you crawl over to him like his very own personal pet. It’s a sight he wants burned into his mind to remember for eternity. He could still sense your shyness and while others may have told you to get over all of this; the shyness only fuels his desires further to corrupt you and shape you into his. He bends down once you reach him, arms beneath your underarms and hoists you up with ease onto his lap, directly onto his crotch. He shifts to hug around your waist, pulling against him and you can’t stop yourself from feeling flustered or how your heart seems to race even faster. It’s to be expected, right? Everything is new and it’s all involving the man in charge of you.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous but, trust me. You trust me, right? I would never let anyone hurt you, not even myself. I’m just here to take care of you. Save you.” Satoru whispers, leaning in as his lips hover over yours, not kissing you just yet. A shaky breath escapes, your hands gently gripping onto his broad shoulders for support. He’s saving you. Won’t let any harm come your way. No more mean bills to make you cry. “I trust you..” You respond softly and soon feel his lips pressing against yours. One of his large hands comes up to cup the back of your head to keep you in place, fingers threading through your hair to grip as he moves his tiers slowly against yours, guiding you through your first kiss. He could tell you’re new to everything; not exactly knowing what to do with your lips besides what you see in films.

Satoru couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. “Just follow your Master, baby girl. Let him guide.” He mumbles against your plump lips and you relax on his lap, arms now snaking around his neck as you follow his lead. It’s not so clumsy anymore as you kiss him. Lips moving against lips. Tongue peeking out to swipe across lower tiers. You’re a quick learner, he notices. He fucking loves that. He continues to make out with you, time easing away and the kiss being fuelled with more passion. It’s sloppy, saliva smearing and neither of you seemed to care. You feel a mixture of peace and excitement as you kiss Satoru. Each touch is a reminder to you that he cares for you. That he won’t let anything happen. Not to mention that he’s just really good at taking the lead and kissing you breathless. You wonder if you’ll be allowed to kiss him more after, easily sinking into his trap.

You sigh happily, body moving on its own as you shift to straddle him properly, fingers threading through his white hair to gently pull on as you press flush against him; your covered breasts against his bare chest, unintentionally rubbing. You’re unaware of how you’re moving, just getting lost in the kiss. Satoru on the other hand, is deeply aware. Especially when you’re causing friction against his crotch and causing him to groan into the searing kiss. For a virgin, your body definitely has been craving to be touched. By him only. His tongue drags slowly across your lower lip until your lips part to whimper and he slides his tongue in with ease, gliding it across every inch of your mouth, eager to have your sweet taste permanently on his tongue. His hands are tight against your body to keep you in place, causing you to squirm and press into him, only craving to drown in the kiss.

You feel him slowly devour you, hand caressing along the length of your back and you just simply melt, completely dazzled by everything that is Gojo Satoru. It’s only a kiss, too. Will everything feel so good? His tongue rubs against yours as your pair of lips continue to move against his until eventually, he decides to part. There’s a string of saliva connecting your lips together, causing you to feel flush. “You’re a fast learner, Y/N.” He praises, intentions to trap you and reel you in further. You often enjoyed being praised by him for your work, so it only makes sense to him. His assumption was correct, eyes lighting up at his words and a hand quickly wiping away the saliva. “You’re a good teacher, Master.” You say softly, causing his ego to swell up.

His gaze darkens, using his strength to easily manhandle your body around until your back meets the bed and he’s pinning you down, one hand gripping firmly onto your wrist and his other stroking your side every so lightly. You choke on a surprised gasp from the sudden movement, staring up at him with wide eyes, long lashes fluttering gently. Is your heart racing from nerves? Excitement? “Baby..” He trails off, leaning down to brush his lips along your jawline, whispering. “You’re going to do something for me, aren’t you?” Satoru peeks up at your face and even someone untouched can pick up on the implication. You squirm nervously now. It’s all new. What if you’re not good at it? Should you really be doing this? Would Satoru want you if he wasn’t doing you such a huge favour? What is your worth? Your mind tends to still leave questions and Satoru doesn’t like that. He wants your mind free of everything but his voice.

“Remember that I’m doing you a favour, Y/N.” He growls lowly, teeth nipping at your flesh. He’s awful for being further aroused by instilling fear into you. It’s a necessity if he wants you to break and finally realise the truth properly. That you live to serve him completely. “Don’t be so scared, my sweet maid. You want this, I know you do. We’re taking our time. It’s just… Master is aching. Only wants your touch.” His large hand smothers one of your own, slowly guiding it towards his crotch. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be crying on the streets in just seven days. So baby girl, just forget it all. Let me take care of you as you take care of me.” His words are low and soothing, listening intently to every word that he says like it’s a prayer to memorise.

That’s right. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be completely doomed. With determination pumping through your body, you move to sit up, hands pressing against his chest and he allows you to move him until he’s lying down on his back now, gazing up at you with a victorious grin displaying on his swollen lips. Fuck yes. You’re so easy to manipulate and it riles him up. He pretends that he’s calm, just adjusting the pillows beneath his head before a hand comes down to give your closest thigh a tender squeeze. It’s encouraging to you and you clasp his hands between both of yours, pressing it against your chest. You look at him like he’s everything to you. He always has been. That small crush turned into something more. Foolish of you to realise only now.

“I live to serve you, Master. I know I’m new but, I’ll do everything I can to make you feel good. Please teach me when I need it.” You express breathlessly before letting go of his hand to crawl between his parted legs. You curl up, leaning forward until your face presses against his crotch, nuzzling so lovingly and breathing in the scent of Satoru. He grits his teeth, long fingers twitching before he grips onto the blanket beneath him for now. The white-haired male didn’t expect such a filthy yet endearing gesture but it only causes him to ache, wishing for his cock to be freed already. “Good girl, you’re so good.. Show me what you know,” Satoru says through his clenched teeth, not daring to look away from the pretty sight of you between his long legs. Truth be told, you found that you’d just be happy to exist with your face nuzzling between his crotch, inhaling in his comforting scent. Yeah, sweat mixed with cologne. Some might find it off-putting but it’s Satoru! Your beloved boss.

Remembering scenes from films and your own curiosity as your motivator, you press your tongue flat against the fabric that restricts him, dragging it slowly across the mysterious thickness that his pants are hiding. It prompts a soft groan to leave Satoru, teeth latching onto his lower lip. He didn’t expect you to do something so teasing and lewd. It’s so long, you noticed. Your tongue reaches the end and that’s when you notice the leaking tip just peeking out from under the elastic band, his cock straining against it.

“Are you smiling because you get to see my cock? Dirty girl.” He snorts lightly and you bring a hand up to your mouth, noticing that you really were smiling down at his crotch. You assume it’s because you’ll get to give someone you adore some pleasure. Right? “Can’t help myself.” You tsk lightly, hooking your fingers beneath the elastic band and finally begin to hastily pull down. It seems like you’re pulling and pulling until finally, his erection springs out, slapping against his toned stomach. Your jaw drops in shock from how big it is. You’ve seen porn and obnoxiously big dicks but— Satoru’s is on another level. It’s not obnoxiously long that it seems fake but, it’s still huge. Thick, too. You can only imagine that your fingers will struggle to meet around it. There’s a pretty curve to the pulsating length, protruding veins along the sides. Your gaze is completely fixated on the beauty of it and something just clicks in your head as a droplet of pre-cum leaks from the head and down the many inches. It just clicks that, of course, Gojo Satoru would have the most beautiful cock in the world. Of course, it’d be attached to someone who deserves to be worshipped daily.

Satoru’s confidence just rapidly increases, casually resting an arm beneath his head, smirking at the cute sight of you being in a shock of silence. People in the past often said that he’s got a big dick but your face just says so much more. Mind games and all, it seems it’s just all falling into place and he’s pleased. “My sweet maid.” He calls out softly, his free hand managing to reach out to pet the top of your head as you stay kneeling between his legs. It coaxes you to lean down so it’s easier for him to pet you like some animal, making you silently wonder why you like the feeling of it. Why were you so foolish to call yourself his housekeeper for years when you were more than that? Being his maid is special. Intimate. It means you can do everything for him and he’ll keep you under his protection in return. “Go on, baby. I know you want to touch my cock and it’s cause of you that I’m so hard. Make me feel good…” He smiles to himself. “Paying your bills after all and taking care of you.”

That’s right! You can’t just keep sitting here in absolute awe when he’s waiting for pleasure in return for his help. Besides, he’s even further correct on you wanting to touch him with your virgin hands. You laugh shyly, fingers curling around the thick base and feeling it throb from your touch. The very tips of your fingers just are able to make contact. “I’m sorry, Master. It’s just— I’ve never seen… Only in media, y’know. You’re just so— Huge. So pretty.” You purr, now tenderly stroking along the length, making sure to touch every single inch.

His abdomen tenses from the touch, exhaling low through his mouth as he feels the pleasant warmth of your palm as you stroke gently. He closes his eyes for a moment. Satoru can feel your hand dragging, causing friction from the lack of lubricant. He briefly looks towards his drawer where he knows there’s a barely empty bottle of lube. He uses it a lot to the thought of you and now that he has you? Perfect. “Spit on it, baby. It will make me feel good. Take your time, do what feels natural.” The gentle order falls from his lips as he sighs. Usually, he’s an impatient man who’d just love to bend you over and rail your ass until you’re crying but this is his first time with you. He may have perhaps manipulated to get his way but he’s not going to rush such a perfect moment. Especially when your hand feels so snug and warm.

Spit on it… Right. You’ve read somewhere that dry friction is somewhat unpleasant and so you lean down, tongue hanging out just over the pretty tip and saliva begins to pool, slowly dripping out until you’re practically drooling over his cock. The pair of you actually moan together at the filthy sight, feeling the spit meeting the top of your hand and you begin to stroke until you’re coating his throbbing member with your own spit, pleased with the way it glistens beneath the light of the bedroom, making his cock entice you in further. You pick up the pace of your strokes, wrist twisting each time you slide your hand up and down. Your thumb rubs against the sensitive tip and he grunts, hips stuttering in response as the pleasure leaves him tingling.

You’re a natural when it comes to giving Satoru a handjob. His eyes nearly falling shut; half-lidded gaze focusing on the sight of your hand quickly stroking along his shaft, smearing the saliva that you continue to let drool out onto his tip. Satoru is breathing deeply, nails scraping against his own scalp as a pitiful attempt to contain himself through the gentle waves of pleasure. You’re still on your knees between his long limbs, though leaning down and ass pushing up into the air, appearing so inviting. You keep your face close to his throbbing cock, wanting to memorise the pretty sight and how it feels heavy against your palm. Wrist continues to twist with each stroke before you hear him groaning out your name. You feel pleased to be able to give your Master the pleasure he deserves.

You whimper in question when his hand grips firmly onto your hair, glancing up at him. Suddenly he’s pressing your face against the underside of his cock and you could feel your own spit against your face. “Use your mouth.” He pants out heavily, eyes swirling with victorious lust. You’re quick to oblige, mimicking with what you did before by dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, tracing along a vein until plush lips press against the pretty pink tip. You already find yourself loving the taste of him, craving more. You kiss sloppy innocent kisses to the leaking tip before you wrap your lips around it, suckling on it gently as you look up towards your Master.

Satoru rolls his eyes at the wet warmth of your mouth and your daring tongue sliding across the sensitive head. He waited far too long, mind momentarily wishing you were desperate for him to save you earlier. He’s a sick individual and gives no fuck. Being selfish gets him what he wants and that is every part of you. You look up towards his face with absolute adoration for the older male, tongue lapping at the tip and swirling around like it’s your own personal candy to enjoy. You’re unable to stop the soft moan from escaping and he inhales sharply when he feels the vibration along his thick cock. One hand continues to stroke and lovingly squeeze around the base of his length, mouth parting wider as you take more of him into your wet cavern.

Your jaw is tense, locked in place as you slide your mouth up and down the very first few inches, feeling it rub against your inner cheeks. You find that you already have to slurp up the large amounts of saliva that seeps out. Satoru feels himself twitch in your mouth, one arm briefly draping over his eyes as he focuses on nothing but the sweet wet mouth that surrounds his raging erection. His face scrunches up as the pleasure surges through him, groaning softly. He brings his hand down to firmly grip your hair from the back of your head, eagerly pushing down. Satoru knows that it’s so wrong to urge a virgin to go beyond their comfort levels but, your mouth is too heavenly to ignore & to be frank, he knows he’ll get away with it because of the ‘special’ situation. Hell, he knows that urged him to do it.

Your eyes widen as you feel the force against your head, whines muffled by the aching tug on strands of hair. For him— Satoru, the one who is giving you everything; you’ll do it for him. Happily. Inexperience and nerves be damned. You try to widen your mouth, gagging audibly when the tip of his thickness brushes against the back of your throat, choking as you pull away to look at him with wide eyes, spit mixed with pre-cum smeared and dripping from your chin. “M-Master, it hurts my jaw. I don’t know what to do, I really want your cock. I want to give you pleasure.” You plead breathlessly, eyes stinging with tears. You can’t screw this up.

It does the opposite of screwing up. Satoru is just so happy to not only have you, but a virgin to shape and play with. You’re going to accept anything he throws your way like a dog with a bone. “Baby girl, so inexperienced. Where would you be without me? You’re so lucky that I love to guide you through things.” He murmurs, fingers gently caressing along your jawline, leaning up on the elbow of his other arm. “Other men would find you so embarrassing but I just adore your innocent eagerness to please me. Just relax your jaw, Y/N. Relax as you take me in, okay? You’ll find yourself better at it than forcing yourself. I know my cock is so big for your cute mouth but you’ll take it all, won’t you? For me?” He explains, watching your eyes light up from the ‘teaching’ and helpful information.

“Of course, Master! I won’t dare miss any of you! Every inch of your beautiful cock deserves to feel pleasure. I can do it.” You insist, tears of worry glued to your long lashes. He has to tilt his head away to mask his look of disbelief. A true jackpot. Satoru simply nods to give you permission to continue. Your body muscles soften when you realise he isn’t giving up on you. The deal or whatever is still in motion and you’re just so thankful. He’s right that others would have rejected you. His kindness deserves to be shown your gratitude. Your plush lips wrap once more around the tip, bobbing your mouth up and down the first few inches slowly, eyes focused on him and the way his chest seems to stutter with his heavy breaths.

You squeeze your hand around the base before you start to slide your hot mouth down further, listening to his words from before and just relaxing into it. You close your eyes, nose scrunching slightly but you fixate on the taste of his cock against your tongue that caresses the underside of his twitching length, head tilting as you take more in. You find that you’re lacking oxygen with your mouth stuffed full and start to breathe through your nose. Saliva continues to dribble out, keeping that beautiful sheen over his cock whenever the spit meets the bedroom light. Even with advice in mind, you can’t help but gag on his throbbing cock whenever it presses against the back of your throat.

It’s become one of his favourite sounds. The sound of you choking on his fat cock, only eager to take every part of him. “Mm, fuck… Good girl, doing so good.. Fondle with my balls as you suck like the filthy girl you are for me, baby.” The dirty words just fall from his lips so easily when he feels the velvety feeling of your inner cheeks rubbing along his cock, brows furrowed as his hand returns to your head once more to push. Usually, such words may have shocked you but now with lips stretched so wide around his girth; you discover something new. You love his dirty talk. You worship every single word he says like nothing else holds value. It’s like he is your Go—

You’re yanked out of your loving thoughts when he snaps his hips up, now being the one to force his thick cock down your throat. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants, after all. Your hand cups his balls to tenderly fondle as you breathe heavily through your nose. A few droplets of tears glide down your warm cheeks, feeling the ache at the back of your throat as he keeps his dick stuffed down the warm hole, groaning out happily from the pleasant feeling. He can feel the way your throat muscles constrict and tighten around his invading cock, only driving him further as he begins to fuck your mouth, hand firmly on your head to keep you in place. He’s sliding his cock against your wet tongue, head tilting forward to see the pretty sight of you in tears and struggling to breathe properly.

“Such a cute virgin.” He pants out, causing your heart to flutter, happy that he’s able to find your inexperience and struggle cute. It didn’t matter to you at all, the painful ache and continuous gags rising up loudly whenever his erection slid out to let that moment of air before quickly taking it away from you. Even with your throat acting as some guard to prevent him from going further couldn’t stop him. No, Satoru would just push on your head as his hips snap up rapidly, grinning lightly from the wet squelching. Your nose keeps pressing against his stomach, muffling your needy sounds. The white-haired man coos mockingly when your hands flail, not knowing what to do with them as he fucks your open mouth roughly.

“Come on, baby. Put them to use. You wouldn’t want to make a mistake and lose your chance, would you? Even worse, you wouldn’t want to lose me.” He hisses out lowly, head tilting back as he moans, thankful for his own stubbornness to hold out just that bit longer. He wouldn’t leave you, but he sure loves to see you in momentary fear. The words send you into an internal panic. No! No, no, no! You don’t want to lose your Master! One hand quickly grips the side of his toned thigh to caress, the other returning to squeeze lightly and fondle his balls lovingly, eager to make the male happy.

Satoru’s eyes roll, widening for a moment before closing tightly. He can feel himself approaching his high quickly as his hips continue to snap at a fast pace to fuck your mouth nice and deep. If your mouth feels so good, Satoru couldn’t wait too long to stuff your virgin pussy with his monstrous-sized cock. It’d be even better. You feel lightheaded from not being able to get the proper amount of oxygen and it feels rather nice. Fuzzy. Nicer if you think about how much you trust Satoru and that he’s clearly loving your mouth. You’re happy to be so useful with just one of your holes. Still, it doesn’t stop you from choking, swallowing around his length as it slides beyond your cheeks and down until you can feel it when your hand quickly touches your throat. You could feel when his cock makes your throat bulge and hurt, tears and spit causing you to look like a hot mess already. It’s a miracle you chose today to not wear make-up, you would have had mascara running down your cheeks.

“Fuck— Fuck, Y/N. Take it. Be a good girl—“ Satoru gasps sharply, both large hands gripping onto the sides of your head to prison you in that only spot. A wave of ecstasy washes over his long body, causing his muscles to tense up and shake slightly as his cock finally pumps out ropes of sticky cum that paint your throat white. You breathe heavily out through your nose, eyes wide and frantic from something new filling your mouth and you have no other option but to swallow.

Why does it taste so good? You taste the saltiness of his cum and it lingers even as you happily swallow each drop that he’s blessed you with, feeling so special. You are, after all. He chose you and in return, you’ll be happy to receive anything from him if it means giving joy back. His nails scrape along your scalp, moaning deeply as he simply enjoys riding the wave that is his orgasm. Half-lidded gaze once more and he looks at you, cheeks puffed out from being pumped full of his cum, watching intently as you refuse to let any dribble out. Fucking hell, what did he do in his past life to be able to witness this?

He guides your head up and slowly off of his cock that slaps against his stomach once free. It already starts to twitch just as he watches you sputter. You’re dry-heaving deeply, hands gripping onto his thighs for support and feel relief for a moment that you can breathe through your mouth. You cough, strings of saliva still connecting to his sloppy cock and you wipe them away, trying to wipe your face clean. Your saliva mixed with his dry-cum already feels dry and crusty on your face. You must look awful, causing you to raise your hands to pitifully hide. Instantly, Satoru’s hands grip your wrists as he shifts to sit up with you, staring heavy and firm.

“No hiding.” He warns before his gaze softens, leaning in. “I think you look even prettier when you’re all messy like this. All thanks to me.” Satoru reminds gently, massaging small circles against your wrists. You feel your heart leap from his words, looking at the white-haired male so fondly. Master. Saviour. “Th— ank you.” You manage to rasp out despite your abused throat aching. Satoru coos endeared entirely because of you and presses multiple kisses to your swollen lips. He could taste himself. “How’d I taste, my sweet maid? You better expect more.” He chuckles gently, nose pressing against your temple as he inhales deeply. He could smell your sweat laced with your favourite perfume and silently thanks the heat.

You don’t realise it but your eyes light up at his words, giddy from realising this isn’t the end. Your nerves may never be conquered until it’s over and you have given your true first to him but, you couldn’t deny that you actually enjoyed having him inside your mouth. Especially when he started taking control and you just had to take it. Mess and all. Maybe it’s scary for a virgin to be thinking this but… It just feels like this is what you’re destined to do. To truly serve Gojo Satoru. He’s offering to pay your bills, too. A bonus, really.

“Your cum… It’s my favourite taste now.” You confess sheepishly and his ego just explodes from hearing that, toned arms wrapping around you to pull him down into his crushing embrace. You giggle happily, pleased by his reaction and press loving kisses to his sharp collarbone, hand between bodies coming down to caress along his length lightly. “I’m not afraid to continue, Master.” You express, worried that he might think otherwise. You can’t lose this. “I want you.” You whine, pressing into his bigger form.

Satoru is smirking over your shoulder, hand rubbing along your back. You’re still clothed and finally, he’ll be able to really see everything and burn it into his mind. Fantasies no more when he has the real deal being shaped into craving him and wanting to do everything he says. “You want me. I always knew you did. It was written all over your pretty face. Especially when you’re so scared and desperate, hm? You just want me to take over, so you can be my cute little maid who doesn’t need to think.” Satoru whispers, lips brushing against your ear. His long fingers now coming down to run along the edge of your booty shorts, smiling when you squirm. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the white-haired male reading you a bit too well, leaning into his touch.

“Soon, we’ll make love.” He says, eyes focused on your reaction. There it is. He can say the way your eyes cloud over and lips curl into a smile. You’re far too easy to trick and Satoru thinks to himself that if any other person tries, he’ll destroy them. You are his to mess with. “First, though... Let me make you feel good. Get you all relaxed and comfortable.” Satoru purrs against your ear before he lifts himself up to stare down at you, feeling eager like a puppy for a treat. You are his treat. All his for the taking. You give him a questioning look, fully expecting him to just yank your clothes off and shove his length into your virgin hole. That’s what you’ve seen in the media. That’s what your friends tell you when they gossip about their sex lives. Sex is something rushed and mostly for men to feel good.

How wrong you were. You close your eyes tightly, waiting for what you expect to happen, but nothing does. Satoru is gazing down at you and he’s no mind reader but he basically could read you from how you’re behaving. Ha. Every moment just seems to reward him with something. You, the one that he has been craving deeply for a long time, happen to be a virgin and not only that, you’ve clearly been watching the wrong set of media and have the pitiful thoughts that it’s just for a man to fuck a hole. He gets to be the one to teach you that it is so much more than that. You won’t view him the same as other men, but someone above them. He’ll get to trick that pretty little mind of yours that he is one of a kind and to never let go of him. You’ll truly believe that no one else can take care of you and you’ll be happily devoted to him. Call him confident or cocky, Satoru doesn’t care when it’s true. Besides, he really thinks no other man can compare to him.

His bigger form leans down over you, warm breath fanning against your neck before he begins to leave a trail of wet kisses, tongue teasingly dragging along your soft skin and teeth nipping at it as well. You squirm a little, raising to rest a hand against his broad back, feeling the way his muscles move beneath your palm and you sigh out softly, already feeling all tingly. “Don’t you want to fuck me, Master? Why aren’t you?” You question quietly, words trailing off as a needy moan escapes you. He’s sucking harshly on the flesh, making a dark bruise starting to form as he pulls away, looking down at you. He laughs, one hand cupping your chin and long fingers squishing your cheeks together until your already swollen lips pucker up.

“Make love.” He corrects deliberately, though you’re of course utterly oblivious and just look up at him in complete awe. “You don’t need to worry, Y/N. I’ll be making love to you and you’ll be free of all worries, I’m doing all of this for you. Remember?” He waits for you to nod before pecking your lips, teeth latching onto your lower lip to suck on gently before pulling away, saliva connecting your lips with his once more. “I want to take my time. You’re new to all of this and you clearly don’t know what sex is really about, my pretty girl. I’m here to show you.” He says before returning to kiss your neck sweetly, one hand slowly unbuttoning the last few buttons of your work shirt.

You couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on your visage, arms wrapping around his strong body to cling onto as you feel his lips on your neck, whimpering occasionally from feeling the light ache of him sucking harshly until for hickeys to form. You really struck gold and to think that your world was going to crash and end in just a few days. Not only is he saving you by paying bills; but he’s going to make your first time one to remember. Even if it’s been a bit rough with the way he relentlessly fucked your mouth until you were gagging and choking for air, you discover that you… actually enjoyed it. You don’t want to trouble yourself with understanding why and just focus on the moment with Satoru as he gives it all to you.

The white-haired male sits up, long fingers pushing strands out of his crystal blue eyes before he grabs the hem of your shirt and begins to tug up. He didn’t have to ask as you obediently lift your arms up and that just makes his cock throb. Perfect. Satoru smirks behind the shirt that he lifts over your head and you can’t see his face, whining when it gets stuck on your head. “Take it off, I want to see you..” You plead quietly and Satoru laughs, pleased by your words. He’s a sucker for someone needy and dependent on him.

“Who chose this stupid uniform for you to wear—“ He huffs, yanking it off swiftly and you laugh with amusement, shaking your head. “Um, you did?” You tease the male lightly and he rolls his eyes. “Right, dumb choice that was. Personally, I like maid uniforms. They’re a lot cuter.” Satoru tosses the shirt aside, eyes lingering on the gorgeous sight of your breasts being pushed up by the bra. You feel your cheeks becoming hot and look off to the side. Maid dresses? That would be so inappropriate and yet, you don’t care. He’s right. They are cuter. “I think maid dresses are nice... I could wear them instead..” You suggest quietly, too flustered to look at him.

Bingo. Satoru can see the signs of you falling for him when you agree so easily and it makes him grin down towards you, eyes holding warmth. “Conversation for another time, Y/N. Right now, I want to focus on you.” He sighs as he cups your breasts over the bra to give a small squeeze, noticing the way your hardened buds press against the fabric. You whimper behind your hand as his expert hands continue to fondle, giving a harsh squeeze every so often and it feels so good— You even feel your pussy leak further with aroused juices, soaking through your panties and shorts. He cups the back of your neck with one hand to guide you up towards his chest other hand unhooking your undergarment before rather hastily moving you out of it, feeling the straps slide down your arms until you’re on your back again, breasts exposed to the tall male. “Fucking hell..” He mutters under his breath, hands cupping the sides of your boobs, loving the sight of how the squishiness fills the gaps of his fingers and presses your breasts together until he leans down to bury his face, happily nuzzling against the soft mounds.

You bring a hand up to stroke along the back of his head, a mixture of giddiness and embarrassment washing over you from the fact that the man in charge of you is clearly favouring your boobs right now. “Ah, are you a boob man? You must be.” You joke lightly, giggling behind your hand. Satoru snorts, peeking up at you. “I’m a Y/N man.” He answers, not caring if it makes sense. His hands continue to massage, thumb brushing against your sensitive buds and you whine, pulling on his hair until he groans. Your heart easily flutters at his words, keeping your head tilted up to gaze up at the ceiling, feeling a sweet daze coming over you as he gives your chest special attention.

Satoru’s tongue drags flat over your left nipple, swirling it around and flicking the tip against it, all the while his hand continues to pinch and twist the right, coaxing out mewls and moans right from your mouth and it sends excitement straight to his dick that is already starting to harden despite releasing cum so recently. Just the reminder of you swallowing his cum causes him to rut slowly against the king-size mattress. It’s cute, seeing you so reactive from this alone. His piercing gaze never leaves your scrunched-up face, lips puckered around the nipple to suckle on gently, long fingers squeezing the flesh harshly.

You whimper out for him; your Master. You could feel the cool air of the aircon drying the saliva that coats your breasts from him licking around the soft mounds, biting down on the flesh to scatter hickeys across. You’re like his own personal canvas for him to enjoy marking up and truth be told, Satoru is holding back in that department. He may get aroused by your fear but anything too terrifying could have you running. He needs to pull you in slowly until your devotion to him is unable to be tainted. Besides, Satoru also selfishly doesn’t want to expose you to everything that fuels him so you’ll keep coming back with eagerness for this new world.

It’s hard to stay quiet, feeling his tongue dance across each breast and sloppy kisses pressed against them. You quiver with pleasure floating through you whenever he makes contact with your nipples, trying so hard to not cover your face with your hands. Satoru lifts himself up, exhaling out loud and dramatic. “Your tits are the best I’ve played with.” He chuckles, glancing up to see your reaction. He notices your cute pout, prompting him to grin down at you, hand covering your left breast giving a squeeze.

Jealousy bubbles up inside of you and you try to frantically shake it away, thinking to yourself how silly you’re being. It doesn’t matter if you’ve had a big crush on Satoru since the dawn of time. He’d clearly see other women, maybe even men. He’s ridiculously hot and besides, he’s doing you a favour… Even if some little beast inside of you growls to possessively have him; you swat it away, desperate to keep the jealousy hidden. “Hmph, well.. Maybe it just means you need to play with them whenever you want to, Master. I am your maid, after all.” You say with a sweet smile gracing your lips and long lashes fluttering, drawing him in so easily. Satoru’s gaze is hot with passion, swirled with a sense of possessiveness. Truthfully speaking, Satoru hasn’t slept with anyone since the day he met you. He just cut them all off, imagining his hand as your tight cunt instead as he jacks himself off on a daily basis. Usually after bidding you farewell. Obsession at its finest and he knows.

He hums softly, suddenly giving your tit a swift slap to watch it jiggle and you breathe in sharply from the sting of pain that spreads across your breast. You didn’t expect it, though your thighs are now starting to feel sticky from how much your aroused slick just soaked your clothing. Confusion settles over you when you realise you enjoyed it and being the mind reader that Satoru is; slaps the other one, enjoying the numb feeling that spreads across his palm. You let out a whimpering gasp as the burning sensation spreads across, looking up at him in admiration. Your brows furrowed and lips parted, fingers gripping onto sheets. How does he know your body so well? How does he know you so well? You start to wonder… Were you destined to serve him and be blessed with a higher being knowing you to your core? To be able to let go and be taken care of in every way, including your body? You never thought pain could be so sweet and maybe it’s because it’s from Satoru.

The corners of his lips twitch as he watches you intently, endeared by the sight of you potentially coming to terms that you like pain by his hands. A masochist to his sadist self. He could never let go. Still, he keeps it minimal. Giving you only a taste of the world that could open up with him. One hand grips your hip, the other giving a few more fleeting slaps across your breasts, cock swollen just from watching them jiggle and you squirm beneath his grip, biting down on your lip as if that could prevent filthy sounds from escaping. The repeated harsh stings now become numb as he tenderly massages to ease the impact of his palm, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, whispering. “How’d I know that my innocent maid would be a slut for pain? Might be something I have to warm you up into taking more. You do look cute when you squirm from a mere slap.” The humiliation from his words settles over you, shyly tilting your head away to avoid eye contact.

It’s even more embarrassing because you didn’t know you could be physically more aroused and yet, you feel more of your juices seep out. Your body is clearly eager to take something more. Something a lot bigger. Satoru tsks lightly, a finger pressing against your chin to guide you back into looking at him. It’s only a warning. You watch as his large hands spread across the top of your thighs, nails digging into the warm flesh and pushing your legs open until your covered pussy is on display. “I sure hope it’s me that you’re so drenched for and not for having your bills paid. You wouldn’t be like that, would you? Is it the money that arouses you?” He feigns the insecurity with a sigh and you practically leap at the chance to reassure a man who has nothing but a huge ego and confidence.

“N-No! I mean— I’m thankful, Master. You know I am, but this is so much more! You’re taking care of me and showing me new things... I don’t trust anyone but you. Besides, it’s you that’s—… making me horny, not money.” You mumble out quickly, words slurring together. It’s hard to confess to your superior that you’ve been crushing on him since day one. All thanks to his good looks, kindness and irresistible charm. The fleeting moment of panic causes him to coo softly, pressing tender kisses down along your soft stomach as he bends over you, long fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your shorts and panties. “Of course, sweet girl. You wouldn’t be like that to me. So very horny and all for me. Drenched and I’ve barely touched you.” He teases as he uses his free hand to grip the side of your leg, guiding upwards and your other leg follows. His caress is a form of silence praise before he hastily tugs the clothing along the length of your legs until he’s finally able to toss them aside.

He was a lover of those shorts, really. Thankful to the heat waves for prompting you to ask for permission. Ugh, it was mere hours ago, but he clearly remembers his body being crushed by arousal just from picturing it in his mind. Now he’s eager for the soaked-through summer piece to be gone. Hands come up to cover your face quickly, overcome with a mixture of emotions. No one has ever seen you completely naked. Nor in such a vulnerable position. Satoru’s gaze darkens, though fond, as he witnesses you try to pitifully hide. His hands grip on the inner sides of your legs and gently forces them apart until he can finally see every part of you.

A shaky exhale escapes his parted lips, eyes rather manic and eager as he continues to look. He’s been waiting for so long. Too long, in his opinion. He wishes there was an earlier chance. Your legs drop back down onto the mattress on either side of his bigger physique. Your pussy is on complete display for Satoru. Even when he’s sitting up, he can see your excited juices coating the folds, droplets slowly dropping onto the sheets and the slick smeared across your inner thighs. Ego is through the roof, knowing that this is all because of him. Kissing. Fucking your mouth. Giving your breasts attention. Not much to take you dripping for him. Long fingers push white strands of hair out of his eyes, grinning to himself.

Satoru leans forward to take hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away. “No more hiding, I want you to watch what I do for you. I want you to see how good I’ll make you feel and no one else can do what I can, understood?” He asks, prompting you to frantically nod your head. “I understand.. Master? It’s— It’s going to hurt, right? What if I bleed? I’m a little bit scared, of just— you know..” You stumble over your words, looking off to the side. Satoru couldn’t help but soften. It’s hard not to, even when he’s usually gleeful from witnessing you be nervous. He may be sadistic and a huge manipulator but, he still cares so deeply for you. Feelings just don’t get tossed aside just because he’s getting his dick wet.

“Firstly, baby girl. I’m not doing that just yet.” He laughs lightly, lowering himself down until he’s pressing you into the mattress, forearms on either side of your head to hold himself up. One hand strokes along the top of your head lovingly, smiling down at you. “I promised to take good care of you, didn’t I? So that doesn’t mean selfishly shoving my dick inside of you. Though, the idea is hot.” He pauses, letting you giggle softly in disbelief at his crude words. “It means preparing you and coaxing you into a state of complete bliss. Besides, I’m a lover of eating out.” He purrs lowly, kissing along your jaw lightly, nipping at the flesh. “Also, not every girl bleeds so you might not. You’ve really been so poorly educated and believing misconceptions, but I’m here for you now.”

It’s somewhat embarrassing that you believed things so easily. Truthfully speaking, he’s sadly right. You’ve never been the type to just deeply dive into the world of Sex. You always thought of it as something you’d wait for the right time to properly experience it. You just knew what you’ve heard from gossip and media. Naivety at its finest. Still, you have Satoru now. Teaching you everything right and how sex isn’t just revolving around a male’s pleasure. Satoru is a true man and it feels so right to give him everything, despite the circumstances.

Wait— Eating out? You feel yourself feel hot all over from realising what else he expressed. Is he really going to do that? Fuckboys in your past who have tried to win you over; often said that shit is gross. Yet, Satoru loves to do it? You laugh out shyly, hand caressing along his toned back. “You’re so bold.” You mumble, eyes becoming half-lidded as you focus on the pleasant feeling of the tall male trailing kisses down the length of your body. He takes his sweet time with it. Each kiss is tender and loving. It feels as if he’s trying to reassure you that everything will be okay. Satoru easily shifts his body down with each kiss until he’s laying on his toned stomach, face hovering over the heavenly sight of your dripping cunt.

You feel the warmth of his breath fan across your pussy and it’s like your body acts on its own; pussy clenching around nothing. Is he really about to? Your hand quickly comes down to grip his hair, causing him to grunt in question, looking up at you. Flustered, you squeeze your legs against the sides of his head as if that will stop him. “You’re not really? I might taste bad!” You whisper loudly and frantic, trying to pull him away by the hair. It only fuels his eagerness. Satoru doesn’t even speak, arms just snaking around your quivering thighs to forcefully hold them apart before he leans in and finally, drags the flat of his tongue between your slick folds.

Pleasure jolts through you like electricity from the first touch of your pussy by another, causing you to gasp sharply, fingers through his hair trembling. The corners of his lips curl up, smiling against your pussy before he continues to slowly drag his tongue between your folds, moaning at the sweet taste that fills his mouth. “So fucking sweet..” He mumbles, words muffled as his lips press against your cunt, slurping loudly and devouring you for the first time. His nails dig into your thighs, tongue swirling around your sensitive clit and you couldn’t stop the needy whimpers from escaping.

Everything felt so new. So good. Your hips buck upwards every time there’s pleasure just surging through you, directly from your core. He firmly holds you down against his mattress, refusing to pull away. He doesn’t dare to stop now, after finally capturing what he’s been chasing for years. Satoru kisses your clit before sucking gently, tongue flicking against the nub and you cry out loudly for him. Completely blissed out already, hands desperately gripping his white hair as a way to ground yourself as your head tilts back, chest arching upwards.

Satoru feels as if he’s in heaven with you. Just from the sweet taste that overwhelms his mouth from how much you’re leaking, to your adorable needy sounds. The painful tug on his hair only drives him further, pressing his mouth firmly against your cunt as he makes out with it, lips moving hungrily as his tongue continues to tease the clit or drag along your folds. It’s as if he’s scared that your excited slick will go to waste. He couldn’t let that happen. Selfishly, every drop is for him and him alone. He unwraps one of his arms from around your thigh to bring towards your womanhood. Two long fingers part your folds and he curses from seeing the strings of your excitement, tongue dragging between to break them.

You whimper, toes curling as a way to try and not be overwhelmed by the pleasure. Impossible not to be. You could hear the loud sounds of him slurping up your mess as he eats you out with so much desperation, gasping loudly when his thumb pressed against your clit to rub gently in a circular motion. “Fuck, I’m so obsessed with your pretty pussy. Taste so sweet, baby. Want to devour you always.” Satoru groans breathlessly, feeling intoxicated from your taste alone, watching with great fascination as your slick coats his fingers. It only leaves him wondering what it’d be like to be inside of you, buried in deep to the hilt.

“Master, ah—! Why does it feel so goo’…” You slur out happily, body so much more relaxed compared to just moments ago. Your eyes roll as he continues to rub his thumb against your clit, pressing sloppy kisses down along your folds until his tongue meets your entrance. He teasingly continues to drag his tongue around it and you couldn’t stop from doing tiny kicks of frustration against the mattress, wanting more. He laughs mockingly at your eagerness. “Look at you now, all you want is me, isn’t that right? Can’t live without my touch.” His words are muffled, squirming from the feeling of his lips moving against your cunt as he talks. You pant softly, tongue lolled out and eyes unable to focus on anything.

Satoru is right. He’s always right. Of course, it’d only take one touch; one caress and even a simple kiss to drag you into his depths, tangled and completely devoted to him. His talented mouth washing away all your worries you have of losing your virginity. Bills be damned. He takes care of you so well. The only one who takes care of you. Satoru is the one you wish to worship like your own God. He presses sloppy kisses to your clit, one finger caressing your hole before slowly pushing in— And fuck, he could feel your velvety walls stretch around the new invasion but wrapping so snug and tight. He wishes it was his cock already.

Your brows furrow, lips parting slightly as you feel his long finger sliding in so easily, thanks to your slick and relaxed body. It’s a new feeling. It’s not too painful, easing your worries further. Satoru didn’t wait to start moving his single digit, sliding it in and out of your warm tightness slowly, voice low and soft. “You’re doing so well with everything, Y/N. Such a good girl, not scared of anything. You trust me that much and I’m thankful, will only reward you with pleasure.” Satoru continues to take his time with pumping his finger, forehead resting against your quivering thigh for a moment as he fixates on the sweet feeling of your walls squeezing around. It takes everything within him to not pin you down and just have his way. It’s not just about him and never will be, even if he enticed you this far.

With a glance up towards your face and noticing how buzzed out you appear to be from the pleasure, Satoru slides his finger out, now pressing two of his fingers against your tight entrance. His tongue swirls against your throbbing clit as a distraction, sliding both of his fingers slowly, feeling your walls stretch even further. You whine from feeling your pussy stretch around his fingers, head tilting to the side to nuzzle against the pillow that smells of him, closing your eyes. There may have been a further stretch but everything still feels so fucking good as he pumps the two digits at a slow pace, sucking gently on your clit to further the pleasure.

You look so perfect in his eyes. Satoru is thankful to both destiny and himself, to be able to get you to this position and able to open your eyes to the world of pleasure. The world of sex. He angles his fingers as he picks up the pace of fingering you, desiring to find a certain spot. It didn’t take long at all, he realises. You cry out in surprise from feeling a more intense jolt of pleasure pierce through your body from your core, fisting the sheets and your hips start to roll, grinding down against his fingers. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Satoru curses repeatedly from witnessing the slutty sight of you now starting to fuck down against his long fingers. The very same fingers that rub against your sweet spot, causing moans to fall from your swollen lips, eyes clouded with new-found lust and your slick pooling out practically from how excited you are.

The lower half of his face is smeared with the same mess, pressing a final kiss to your clit before he moves himself up so he could hover above you properly, caging you in once more. The squelching sound of his fingers slowly fucking into you doesn’t embarrass you anymore and he only finds it to be hotter. You snake your arms around his neck to cling onto him, lips dragging along his broad shoulder. “So fucking pretty and all mine..” He breathes out, slowly inserting a third finger to properly stretch you out for him.

Your face scrunches up from feeling the subtle pain of your walls stretching out around the three long digits. He hushes you gently, lips to your temple and you could hear him mutter praise. It leaves your heart thumping fast with joy that the praise is for you and not some other girl. It’s all you. You feel his three digits drag along your velvety walls covered in your juices, the subtle pain slowly subsiding and turning into pleasure. It feels so good, the way they slide in and out. To be able to reach deeply but, it makes you wonder how deep his cock could go. You whimper, tightening your hold as you look up at him in complete admiration.

He cares for you so much. It’s that thought; the one repeating in your mind like a mantra that makes you realise. You’re ready and you want it now. You want him to finally take what you’ve been slowly craving to give him. You squeeze your thighs around his wrist, stopping his fingers that are buried inside of you. Satoru looks towards you, his free hand stroking along your hair lightly. He grins a little, unable to stop himself. “Ready, are you?” Finally. Satoru pulls away, fingers sliding out of your core, inspecting them. Strings of slickness connect his long fingers together and not wanting to waste a drop, slowly drags his tongue along his fingers to lick off your juices with a hum. Feeling flustered, you look away from the hot sight. He chuckles lowly and shifts himself until his cock is positioned near your womanhood but not quite. He’s pretending to reach towards his drawer. “Condom, I suppose.” He says and your hand whips out to grip onto his wrist, looking up at him. Satoru had a feeling that you’d stop him. Call him crazy, but he knows you pretty well. He feigns surprise, eyebrow raising.

“You don’t want me to use a condom?”

“Nn… No, I want to feel you properly.”

“Ah, is it because I’ve slept with others and used condoms?” Satoru teases and you huff, squeezing his wrist. Perhaps he’s sort of right. It seems your own selfishness is growing along the side of his and now that you’re in this position, about to give something special; you want to be the special one in his eyes. The chosen one. He laughs lightly, almost mocking, but really he’s endeared and quite pleased. This is what he wanted. “No condom when it comes to my sweet maid.” Satoru agrees before moving back, condoms lying forgotten at the back of his drawer.

One hand grips your hip to keep you in place as he positions his thick, pulsating cock against your pussy. He slowly grinds, watching in complete awe as his length slides between your folds, coating in your juices. You whine, sensitive whenever you feel him grind against your clit. One hand holds his cock by the base and he slaps his cock against your pussy with a happy sigh, head tilting back. ‘Fucking finally’, he thinks. Quietly, Satoru positions himself until his tip is pressing against your entrance.

Nerves flare up when you realise what’s about to happen and even though you deeply want him, you couldn’t help but wonder about the pain. He’s a lot bigger than three of his fingers. Noticing your nerves, Satoru reaches for your hand with his free one, lacing his fingers with yours and giving a squeeze. “The pain will go away quickly, baby. Do you trust me? You know I wouldn’t do anything bad. This is all for you… Everything is for you.” He says softly, the comforting words washing over you. You nod his head and smile gently, holding onto his hand. “I trust you, Master… I’m ready.”

With that, Satoru presses the tip of his leaking cock against your hole, brows furrowing as he realises truly how tight you are. It takes a little bit of force but he manages to nudge his tip inside of you and slowly begins to push his cock inside of you. You strangle out a cry, eyes widening as you look up at him in a mixture of emotions. Disbelief from how huge he is. The giddiness that you are finally giving him what he deserves to have. Pain from the wide stretch as your own cunt has to adjust to the new size. Tears glue to your long lashes, panting heavily to try and calm yourself down as your walls forcefully stretch around the new invasion. Something so much bigger than anything else before.

He’s squeezing your hand, groaning from feeling your velvety slick walls squeezing around his throbbing cock. It’s only a few inches but he pauses to allow you to adjust. Even though his body wants to act on its own and start jackhammering your tight pussy with his huge cock. You’re silently thankful that he’s pausing, nails digging into his hand as you close your eyes tightly. The tender strokes of his other hand aid you in relaxing. “My pretty girl... Sweet Y/N. It will be okay soon, I promise.” He reassures softly.

You eventually nod your head, a bit dazed by everything. With the sign to continue, Satoru pushes his hips forward. He slowly slides his length inside your core until he’s completely buried deep inside of you, every inch of him finally covered with the wet warmth of your heavenly walls. His muscles tense, head tilting back as he pants deeply from the sensation he feels, You choke on a moan of his name when he’s pushed deep inside of you and it hurts so badly to be stretched out to where you’ve never been stretched out before.

Satoru pushes through his selfish needs to lean down and embrace you, pressing loving kisses across your face, gently hushing you. “I know, I know... It will feel good soon, I promise. Baby girl, believe your Master. You trust him, don’t you? It will feel so good for you.” He whispers, keeping his throbbing cock still inside of you so your now non-virgin pussy could get used to the feeling. Thankfully, it’s not as bad as it could have been. You know that now. He did take care of you to feel good. To get that glimpse of pleasure and truth to be told, beyond the stretch? You love the feeling of being stuffed full of his beautiful cock. It makes you feel complete.

His large hands caress along your sides, lips brushing across your hot skin as he continues to help you ease into relaxing, forcing himself to ignore the way your walls keep clenching around his cock, wrapped around him so perfectly. You’re too out of it to be aware of time, but soon enough you start to move a little. It’s a signal for him to continue and that you’re ready for more. The white-haired male keeps his bigger body pressed against you, embracing you as he starts to move his hips, slowly fucking into you.

You whimper from feeling his hard length slowly slide within you. He doesn’t pull out of you entirely, thinking you’re not ready for it. Just keeping everything gentle and taking his time. Even though his hips stutter, eyes rolling at the pleasurable feeling that washes over him from your slick walls rubbing along his length. It hurts at first and you have to contain yourself through clenched teeth and nails digging into his hot flesh. You believe him that it will start to feel good and—

Oh… The pain is finally subsiding, being replaced with that pleasure that you’ve been hoping for. It’s subtle at first, leaving you all pleasant and tingly as you cling to him. You squeeze around his cock, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. He tilts his head to look at you, eyes swirling with lust mixed with something deeper that you don’t know. Satoru smiles down at you, leaning down to press his lips against yours to form a kiss as he picks up the pace of his cock thrusting into you. He’s right and always has been about everything. Foolish of you to have been nervous. The pleasure leaves tingles across your body as you feel his cock sliding in and out with ease from your aroused juices. He starts to move more, grinding down deep against you, hands cupping your sides to hold you. You moan happily into the kiss, fingers tangling into his hair to pull on. The ache that he feels only encourages him to move fast and deep. “Fuck, you’re so tight. So fucking good for me.” He moans against your lips before pulling away to look at your fucked out expression. Eyebrows knitted together to form a frown, lips open wide and eyes watery from tears that threaten to spill.

Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Satoru’s nails drag along your sides and you squirm, enjoying the light burn you feel from the nails scraping your skin. You spread your legs wider like you’re some eager slut for him to see everything and he loves it. He lifts his body off of you to finally witness the sight of his thick, long cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your velvety walls continue to wrap snug and tight around his length whenever he pushes in, dragging along his cock when he slides out as if your needy cunt is desperate to keep him deep inside of you. It feels so fucking good to be filled by him.

It truly is a beautiful sight to see his cock appear and disappear before his eyes, loving the pleasure that surges through him from his cock whenever he’s buried deep to the hilt. “You’re all mine, fuck. Can’t believe it’s taken this long. Pretty pussy clenching around me. Never had something so big in your life, huh? Look at it making you bulge.” The filthy words continue to fall from his lips between grunts as his hips snap forward, thrusting into your pussy hard. His hand presses against your lower stomach to feel his thickness fucking into you. There’s no pain anymore, minus the burn of his scratches and sting when his balls slap against your ass as he pounds into your wet heat relentlessly.

All you can see are stars as ecstasy just washes over you in crashing waves. One hand helplessly gripping onto him and you could feel your breasts bounce with each hard impact. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mixing with the lewd sounds of your needy, high-pitched moans and his groans. You look at him in absolute awe, tears threatening to spill. He notices your expression mid-fuck and it only drives him further, each deep thrust of his throbbing cock becoming rough. “Fuck, god—” He curses and you cry out, latching desperately onto his words.

“Y-You’re my God!” You stutter out quickly, heart hammering from your confession. You couldn’t be in denial any more. He truly is your saviour, after all. Bills aside, he’s making love to you in the best way possible. A God does everything for their believers. He does everything for you. He took you in and eased your troubles. He’s giving you pure ecstasy in the form of his cock. Satoru has saved you. Satoru’s heart leaps from your words, driving to the point of insanity as he gazes down at you with pure satisfaction. You’re giddy from seeing how pleased he is, clinging hopelessly to the taller male.

“My perfect girl.” He huffs out, pulling his throbbing length out until only his tip is inside. Satoru didn’t even wait until he slammed himself in, feeling your slick walls gripping onto his cock, prompting you to scream out for him, tears spilling down your cheeks. To have you worshipping him and crying out in pleasure become his reality; leaves him feeling so happy. Happiness wrapped in his own ecstasy. You’re so happy as he continues to relentlessly fuck into you, feeling so empty whenever his cock slides out, only to pleasantly surprise you by filling your core to the brim again. It feels so fucking good. You swear you’ve never felt anything like this before.

Addiction for not only his cock but, the male in general begins to grow. Your fists grip the crinkled sheets to stabilise yourself as each rough thrust, though it seems to do nothing. His strength behind his thrusts is more than enough to cause your body to jerk upwards, moving against the mattress. As you continue to squeeze so sweetly around his pounding cock, Satoru pants heavily, completely tangled up in the pleasure that continues to surge through him, even causing his toes to curl. One hand fiercely grips your hip still, the other coming down to rub your clit. You strangled out his name, too blissed out to be embarrassed by anything. Not even how heavy you seem to cry from the pure euphoria that drowns you.

Satoru burns the image of you sobbing into his mind, wanting to forever remember the way your face scrunches up or how your eyes roll from the complete bliss and cheeks stained with tears. His thumb continues to rub in a circular motion, panting heavily and head tilting back, unable to contain himself like he could with other girls. No, you bring out the beast that resides within him. Relentless with his fucking and possessive growls parting from his lips. “All fucking mine, got it? No one else can have you. I’ll break them. This pussy belongs to me. You belong to me.” The white-haired male groans out, muscles tensing.

You’re barely able to process the hot words, only knowing it fuels your desire and happiness to be owned by the male. Your beloved God. Master to serve, always. Your stomach begins to feel tight, clit throbbing and with no true experience of an orgasm; even you know what rapidly approaches you as he fucks into your cunt. You squeeze around his length, whimpering loudly. Satoru can just tell when he looks down at you. Maybe from looking so fucked out by him and it makes his ego rise, but he’s eager to give you what you deserve for being so cute and obedient.

“Let it go, baby girl. Fall into it.” He whispers and you manage to tug him down so you’re clinging, trembling legs wrapping loosely around his waist for support. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, panting heavily and with his cock sliding out to the tip, he slams back into your warm hole and everything just seems to explode for you. Pleasure surges through your trembling body, leaving you gasping sharply and babbling out moans, unable to truly comprehend the ecstasy that you feel as you come around his cock. Your walls flutter, clenching repeatedly around his cock that starts to sloppily fuck into you. Your eyes are rolling, desperately gripping onto the taller male as your body continues to tense up before relaxing through a tremble. the intense orgasm easily overwhelming you.

Satoru hips stutter, driving himself further to his own orgasm as he feels your slick walls dragging along his thrusting length, pulsating around his thickness. His forearms pressed against either side of your head, panting heavily. “Fuck, good girl—” He praises you for climaxing, hearing the obnoxious squelching sound lacing with the slaps of his balls against your ass. With one look at you, Satoru slides out before sheathing his cock deep inside of you for the final time. His own waves of complete euphoria crash down on him and he moans out sweetly for you, forehead resting against yours as ribbons of white sticky cum start to fill you up. You feel so fucking full, stuffed with his throbbing length and his cum that continues to just pump inside of you, leaving you breathless and your head positively spinning.

Muscles like jelly, Satoru collapses onto you, trapping you down against the mattress and smothering you with his warmth, body light with sweat. Your breasts squish against his chest and fuck, even that makes him happy. He’s panting heavily, head resting next to yours and staying buried inside of you, not wanting to pull out. You still feel the bliss from your first proper orgasm, hand coming up to stroke along his toned back, letting yourself stay in the pleasant daze. He smiles softly, endeared by not only your gentle touch but the expression you wear. He leans in to scatter light kisses against your neck, hand coming up to tenderly cup your cheek. When he does manage to lift himself up, Satoru gazes at you with something you couldn’t quite figure out. It did make you feel all warm and happy though.

His thumb brushes tears away, kissing your forehead before he finally decides to slide out of your tight heat. You pout at the loss, feeling your hole clench now around nothing. His sticky cum already starting to seep out and smear across your thighs when you clench them together, wanting to stay full of his seed. He slumps onto his side, draping his arm across your body to pull you in. He actually got what he wanted and not only that, you’ve been shaped into someone who craves to worship him. That and, you felt good from him fucking your cunt. All wins in his book.

You shyly look towards him, rolling over to face him properly. A mixture of emotions begins to overwhelm you. You feel gratitude that he did this for you but, sadness seems to be stronger now. He only did this— He only made love with you because there was nothing else you could do in return for bills to be paid. What if you want more of him? Your bottom lip trembles and bring a hand up to wipe at your eyes. “Thank you, Master… For doing this. I know it— must be hard 'cause there was nothing else and I really appreciate that you’ll pay my bills so I won’t be homeless… And I’m even more thankful that you made my first time feel good.” Your voice is breathless, clearly, your throat is tired from all of the crying out for him.

His lips curl up into a knowing smirk, noticing the fear start to appear in your face once more. You want to rely on him. He leans up on his elbow, hand cupping the side of his face and he sighs, a little dramatically. “Yes, well. I’m always happy to help my sweet girl out. Don’t feel too guilty, you made me feel good. I really enjoyed myself, Y/N.” He says, free hand coming up to brush hair out of your eyes. He pretends to think deeply and you notice the frown appearing, eyes widening. “What? What is it? I’ll— I’ll do more if I have to? I want to. I don’t feel guilty, I really liked it.” You ramble out nervously, hand pressing against his toned chest. Deep down, you know it’s just you craving to touch him again. Satoru shakes his head, ignoring the way white strands of hair stick to his temples from sweat. His hand comes up to cup over yours, giving a loving squeeze.

“No, I just have an idea… Do you always want to worry about bills, Y/N? You’re always so stressed, I see it on your face all the time when you come to work. It concerns me. Every single day, your mind seems to be filled with your worries. Bills. Appointments. The potential threat of being homeless. Not being able to eat or time to wash clothes..” He trails off and you feel embarrassed that he seems to read your mind. It’s one of the main reasons you asked to wear shorts. Yet, why do you feel yourself starting to fill up with hope? What is this idea? “What is it, Master?” You whisper, leaning into him and eyes just showing are willing you are to be completely devoted to him. It’s a miracle his cock doesn’t start to harden for the third time. That would be pleasantly painful for him.

Quietly, Satoru laces his fingers with yours and brings them up to his lips, kissing your knuckles as his crystal blue eyes never leave yours. “Instead of being filled with worry, why don’t you live with your Master? Your God.” He emphasises, leaning in so his lips hover over yours. “I’ll take good care of you and not a single thing in that cute brain of yours will have to stress you out anymore. Just live day by day, happily by my side. Do whatever you want in your new home. You can continue to serve me, which I know you enjoy doing… In multiple ways, it seems.” He chuckles at his own implication and your heart starts to race.

Just the mere idea of living with him leaves you feeling ecstatic. It’s something you always wanted, really. You hated being so far away from him in the first place. You’d often think what if he needed you during the night? He cherishes you so much. Satoru has never been too strict with you. Always praising and spoiling you in his own ways. Wouldn’t that only grow if you lived with him? It excites you. Just the thought of always being around him. To be able to welcome him home from work properly. Besides, after making love with him… How could you not already crave more? Satoru waits patiently for your answer, pressing a tender kiss to the crook of your jaw. He already knows what you’ll say. He’s confident in that. Again, he selfishly thinks how you are meant for him, and he’s meant for you. You squeal softly, launching yourself at him and he manages to take hold of you, rolling together until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him, looking ever so pretty in his eyes; even with dried tears on your cute face and sweat coating your body.

“I want to live with you, Master.” You whisper, tears of happiness in your eyes. No more worries. Only comfort, peace, happiness and pleasure. Of course, the pleasure. Satoru smiles up at you, pleased with the success of his manipulation. All his for good. He remembers something. “Yeah? In that case, will you also wear cute maid outfits while you work?” He teases lightly, knowing you wouldn’t deny it. You nod eagerly, not bothered by how inappropriate that would be. You’re living with him as his ‘sweet maid’. Besides, maid outfits are cute; thoughts copying his from moments ago.

“Good girl. Now c’mere and give me a kiss.”

You oblige happily.

905 notes · View notes

brunchable · 3 months ago

Text

Winter King, Part Four : Afterglow [18+]

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 25.6K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity. Warning: Sinister intent (Drugging, Sabotage). Torture, mentions of blood. Sexual Content - Losing Virginity, unprotected piv sex, Oral (F). Big size difference. Summary: After a tumultuous separation, Queen Y/N receives a desperate letter from King James Bucky Barnes, pleading for her presence in Annecy. Reluctantly, she agrees to meet him, only to be confronted with unresolved emotions, simmering tension, and a fragile hope for reconciliation. Amidst grand dinners and intimate revelations, Bucky strips himself bare—not just of his regal façade but also the deepest scars of his past. In the midst of courtly games and political intrigue, will their love survive, or will it be another casualty of the crown? A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. I'm sorry it's so long lol. I hope you enjoy the SMUT SCENES. . . what do you want to see next? credits to the gif owners, it ain't mine.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention away from the window, where you had been staring absently swaying trees on this windy day. Scott’s familiar presence hovered by the door, his posture stiff, yet there was something… cautious in the way he approached you. His gaze darted around before finally settling on the envelope in his hand.

“A letter for you, My Queen,” he announced, extending it toward you. “From His Majesty.”

You blinked, your heart giving an unexpected flutter at those words. Bucky? He had finally reached out. But you quickly tamped down the unwelcome swell of hope, narrowing your eyes at the innocent piece of parchment.

“Leave it on the desk,” you instructed curtly, turning back toward the window, fighting to maintain your composure.

Scott hesitated, his gaze lingering on you as if contemplating whether to say something more. But he gave a sharp nod, placing the letter on the desk beside you before withdrawing quietly. The door clicked shut, leaving you alone in the quiet, with only the letter as company.

You stood there staring at the creamy white envelope as if it were a serpent poised to strike. It sat there, mocking you with its pristine perfection, the royal seal pressed into the wax glinting in the dim light.

With a huff of frustration, you snatched it up, breaking the seal more aggressively than necessary. The wax crumbled beneath your fingers, the crackling sound oddly satisfying. Unfolding the letter, your eyes skimmed over the familiar scrawl of his handwriting—precise and strong, just like the man himself.

My Dearest Y/N,

I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve pushed you away. But I need to see you—to speak with you without anger clouding our words. Please, come to Annecy this evening. I need to see you, if only for a few hours.

Yours, James

You stared at the words, a myriad of emotions rushing through you. Anger, for how easily he thought he could summon you. Resentment, for the pain he had caused. But beneath it all, it made the ache in your chest tighten in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“‘If only for a few hours,’” you muttered, reading the line again, your lips pressing into a thin line. “As if one meeting could fix everything.”

But even as the angry words left your mouth, you knew you would go. Damn him, for knowing that you couldn’t resist this fragile olive branch he was extending. A chance to see him, to hear him—to finally understand what was going on inside his head.

You glanced outside again, noting the dusky sky deepening into twilight. The evening was already upon you, and if you were to make it to Annecy by nightfall, you would need to leave soon.

With a resigned sigh, you turned back to the letter, your fingers brushing lightly over the words. You didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you—the part that still remembered the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he said your name—yearned to go.

Maybe… maybe this time, you’d get some answers.

“Scott,” you called, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside you.

He appeared almost instantly, his expression expectant.

“Prepare the carriage,” you ordered, folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope. “We’re going to Annecy. Tonight.”

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise, but he bowed quickly, masking his reaction with a swift nod. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll have everything ready at once.”

As he hurried out of the room, you took one last look at the letter, then slipped it into the pocket of your gown. The anger simmering in your chest hadn’t completely vanished, but it was no longer the driving force behind your actions.

You would go to Annecy tonight. And you would hear what he had to say. But you would do so on your terms, with your walls firmly in place.

× × × ×

The carriage rolled to a slow halt, the rhythmic clatter of hooves fading into silence as you glanced out of the window. The familiar grounds of Annecy stretched out before you, shrouded in the soft glow of twilight. Lanterns flickered to life along the pathways, casting a warm, golden light that danced across the cobblestone and neatly trimmed hedges.

A footman stepped forward to open the door, offering his hand as you descended. The hem of your gown brushed against the ground as you took in the estate—the sweeping lawns and carefully sculpted gardens, and the imposing silhouette of the mansion against the evening sky.

But there was no sense of awe, no appreciation for the beauty that surrounded you. Your chest felt tight, anger simmering just below the surface as you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin, determined to keep your composure.

“Your Grace,” Scott murmured quietly from beside you, his voice tentative. “Shall I accompany you inside?”

You shook your head, barely sparing him a glance. “You can,” you ordered, your tone clipped and curt. “I won’t be long.”

Scott’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his eyes, but he nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

You turned away from him and began your ascent up the grand staircase, the soft rustle of your skirts and the distant chirping of crickets the only sounds accompanying you. Two guards flanked the massive double doors leading into the mansion. They bowed as you approached and opened the entrance for you, revealing a grand foyer lit with chandeliers and brimming with quiet opulence.

The steward appeared almost immediately, bowing low. “Your Grace, His Majesty is awaiting you in the dining hall.”

You nodded stiffly, following his lead as he guided you down the long, silent corridor. The air was thick with anticipation, the echoes of your footsteps reverberating off the marble floors. Each step you took felt heavier, the anger you had tried to keep at bay during the ride flaring up with every second that passed.

Finally, the steward opened a pair of gilded doors, stepping aside to let you pass. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you stepped into the room.

The scent of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and baked pastries filled the air—an exquisite spread laid out over a long, polished table. Plates gleamed under the candlelight, and goblets of fine wine shimmered like liquid rubies.

But all of it—the decadence, the beauty, the carefully curated feast—turned to ashes in your mouth the moment you saw it.

Your steps faltered, eyes widening as they took in the elaborate arrangement. An intimate dinner for two, set with painstaking care. It was as though someone had plucked the image of a perfect evening out of a dream and tried to force it into reality.

You turned sharply, refusing to take another step inside.

Bucky, who had been standing at the opposite end of the table, his expression hopeful, froze as you spun back around, your face pale with restrained fury.

“Y/N, wait—”

“What is this?” you demanded, your voice cold, your gaze sweeping over the table again before landing back on him. “What are you trying to do?”

His brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “I… I wanted to have dinner with you. To—”

“Dinner?” The word burst out of you like a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. “You dragged me all the way here for dinner?”

His mouth opened, but whatever he had planned to say fell silent at the look on your face. You could feel your body trembling with the effort to hold back the wave of anger surging inside you, anger that had been simmering since he had begun this dance of hot and cold, sweet words followed by crushing silence.

“Prepare the carriage,” you bit out to Scott, who had followed behind, your voice leaving no room for argument.

“Your Majesty?” Scott glanced between you and Bucky, uncertainty creasing his brow.

“Now, Scott,” you snapped, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel Bucky’s gaze boring into your back, and you kept walking, your gown billowing behind you like a storm cloud—refusing to let him see the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

“Y/N, wait,” Bucky called out, the confusion in his tone sharpening. You heard his footsteps quicken, the soft thud of boots against marble as he closed the distance between you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” you said through gritted teeth, your pace never faltering. “Back to the estate. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Wait—stop walking this instant!” Bucky’s voice rose, a hint of desperation breaking through. He reached for your arm, his fingers brushing against your sleeve, “Please, listen to me.”

You whirled on him, eyes blazing.

“Stop? Stop?” The word left your lips in a hiss. “What could you possibly have to say to me that you haven’t already made abundantly clear, James?”

Bucky’s hand fell to his side, at the way you spat his name. You’d never used it like that before—like a weapon, sharp and cutting. He drew in a shaky breath, his gaze flickering over your face as though searching for some way to reach you through the storm of emotions.

“Please, Y/N, just—let me explain. I’ve been… distant, I know.” he said, his voice softening, pleading. “But I didn’t know how to—how to show you that I… that I care.”

“Care?” You laughed again, short and humorless, “Is that what you call it? Ignoring me for days, leaving me in silence, only to send a letter and expect me to come running whenever you deem it convenient?”

“I know,” he whispered, stepping closer, his fingers twitching at his side as if resisting the urge to reach for you again. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to be here. I needed to see you.”

You shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. “Then say that, James. Say what you want, what you feel. Stop hiding behind these—these grand gestures and empty words.”

His eyes darkened with a flicker of frustration as you threw his words back at him. He closed the distance between you in two swift strides, the sudden nearness of him making your breath hitch.

“I’m trying to,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “I’m trying to show you, Y/N, because I can’t say it in a way that does justice to how I feel. Words… they fall short. I’ve said so many things wrong, pushed you away with every damn word I’ve spoken. So, I’m done talking.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Then what are you going to do?”

His hand, hesitant and shaking, reached for yours. Slowly, he turned your palm upward, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your wrist, tracing the frantic beat of your pulse.

“Please… stay,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the word, “I need to show you.”

“Then show me.”

The word barely left your lips before Bucky stepped past you, his hand trailing away from yours, and headed toward the hallway. For a moment, you hesitated, rooted in place as you watched him stride away, his posture tense, yet determined. And then, as if caught in some magnetic pull, your feet carried you after him, heart pounding furiously in your chest.

The walk was silent, the click of your heels against the polished floor echoing softly. Bucky’s pace was quick, his shoulders set, each step purposeful. You followed in his wake, your mind racing with questions, frustration, and the unrelenting hope that he might finally give you the answers you sought.

He led you through the winding corridors of Annecy Estate, past servants who discreetly looked away, past grand rooms shrouded in shadows, until you reached a pair of large, double doors. The heavy wood gleamed in the dim light, their surface intricately carved with the Barnes family crest.

Bucky pushed the doors open, not looking back as he stepped inside. You faltered, the sight of his private chambers—a place you’d never set foot in—sending a shiver of uncertainty through you. But you took a deep breath and followed, crossing the threshold into his space.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of silence. The room was spacious, yet felt intimate. A large bed dominated one side, its dark, plush coverings pristine and untouched. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, trinkets, and objects that seemed to whisper secrets of who Bucky was—who he had been before all this.

The air itself seemed heavy, saturated with his presence, his scent—a mix of cedarwood, leather, and something uniquely him—wrapping around you. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and made it hard to think clearly.

Bucky stood a few steps away, his back still to you as he exhaled slowly. Then, without a word, he shrugged off his jacket, letting it slide from his shoulders to land carelessly on the bed.

You stiffened, your eyes widening as he reached up, his fingers deftly undoing the cufflinks at his wrists. The small, metallic clinks of the cufflinks being set aside reverberated in the quiet room. A sense of disbelief warred with your anger and confusion as he moved with ease—removing the barriers of clothing one by one.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice wavering despite your best effort to sound unbothered.

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms corded with muscle and veined from tension. But as the fabric fell away, you saw it—his left arm gleaming under the soft light, the sleek, dark metal reflecting the flickering glow of the candles.

A lump formed in your throat as you stared, mesmerized by the sight of his vibranium arm. The intricate lines, the smooth surface… It was both a masterpiece and a reminder of something darker buried deep within Bucky’s past.

He caught the look in your eyes, the way your gaze lingered on his left arm, and his jaw tightened, vulnerability crossing his features.

“What I should have done at the start,” he murmured. With each unbuttoned piece of his attire, your pulse seemed to stutter, your chest tightening with the unfamiliar, heady sensation. He unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal the chiseled lines of his chest and abdomen, the faint scars that traced paths over his skin like echoes of battles fought and endured.

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on him, helpless to look away. There was something achingly intimate about this—watching him undress not in a way that was seductive or calculated, but almost like he was shedding his armor, piece by piece.

“Bucky,” you began again, the name trembling on your lips. “I—”

He let the shirt fall to the ground, the fabric pooling at his feet. Standing there, bare-chested and exposed, he seemed both vulnerable and unbreakable. Then, he turned fully toward you, his gaze piercing as it held yours.

“Do you remember? I vaguely told you about this arm?” he asked softly, his voice strangely calm, almost detached. “It was not by choice. I was seized, shattered—my mind reconstructed piece by piece—starting with this.” He lifted the vibranium arm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly, the metal catching the dim light. “They mentally dismantled me until all that remained was this… weapon. Something to be wielded, something to be governed by another’s will.”

He paused, his gaze shifting away from you, staring down at the arm as if it were some loathsome thing, some cursed appendage that didn’t belong to him. “The arm became a reminder that I was no longer human—just a tool. Something to be wielded by others.” He exhaled sharply, a shudder running through him. “Even now, with the arm being mine again, I still feel… trapped by it.”

He stood in silence, his breathing slow and measured, his chest rising and falling with each deep inhale. For the first time, you were able to truly take him in—the strength in his body tempered by the vulnerability in his posture, the contrast of metal against flesh, the scars etched like battle lines over his skin.

But what struck you most was the look on his face—head turned slightly to the side, his eyes downcast, almost as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

And it was then that you realized.

He was ashamed.

Ashamed of what he’d become. Ashamed of what had been done to him. Ashamed of showing you this, of letting you see him like this—so utterly exposed, not just in body, but in everything he’d tried to hide from you.

The sight of him—stripped of every defense, every guise—stirred something deep within you. This man—the one who had wounded you, driven you away, barricaded himself from you—was now baring himself before you in a manner that spoke of desperation, a yearning to be seen, to be understood.

“Who else. . . knows of this?” You asked carefully.

“A selected amount of trusted people.”

Though you longed to speak more, to utter something that might soothe the tempest raging in his eyes, words faltered on your tongue, trapped by the gravity of the moment. So instead, you remained silent, allowing yourself to absorb the image of him—each line, each imperfection, each fragment of who he was.

Slowly, tentatively, Bucky lifted his gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, imploring, as if hoping—begging—that you might see beyond the anger, beyond the hurt, and glimpse the man he truly was. The man he was trying to be.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he was standing just a breath away. His hand twitched at his side, you thought he might reach for you. But instead, he did something that stole the breath from your lungs.

Without a word, Bucky sank to his knees before you.

The sight of him—this proud, indomitable man kneeling at your feet, his head bowed low—rendered you momentarily breathless. He appeared utterly defeated, his broad shoulders slumped as though bearing the weight of the world itself. His gaze remained fixed upon the floor, his hair falling forward, shrouding his face in shadow, concealing him from view.

And then he spoke, his voice so low, so raw, that it scarcely rose above a whisper.

“I beg for your forgiveness, my Queen.” he murmured, the words trembling with a pain so profound it caused your chest to tighten. “I apologize for every moment I made you feel as though you were isolated. For distancing myself from you when you were the only thing that kept me whole.”

Your hands tightened at your sides, the urge to reach out, to touch him, to offer solace warring with the resentment that still simmered beneath your skin. Yet you remained still, your gaze unwavering as you listened, waiting.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the movement, and his head dipped lower, as if the act of speaking these words cost him more than you could fathom.

“I’ve hurt you,” he continued, his voice fracturing. “I have distanced myself, not out of want, but out of fear—fear that you might perceive me for what I truly am—a shattered, ruined man who knows not how to be a husband. Nor a king.”

He lifted his head slightly then, his eyes glistening as they found yours once more. There was a desperation in his gaze, a pleading that cut through every barrier you’d tried to put up.

“I cannot undo the things I have done,” he whispered hoarsely. “I cannot alter what I have become. I desire to be better—for you. For you deserve nothing but the best.”

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening painfully as you stared down at him, the tears that had been burning at the back of your eyes threatening to spill over. This was James, laid bare before you—not the king, not the soldier, but the man who had been so afraid of his own darkness that he’d let it swallow him whole.

And now, here he was, kneeling at your feet, offering up his broken pieces in a desperate plea for forgiveness.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “Please… tell me I haven’t lost you.”

Seeing him like this—so utterly stripped of every layer of pride and pretense—was something you could not bear to witness. Slowly, you stepped closer and you reached down, your fingers brushing gently against his shoulder.

“Rise, James,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm, a command veiled in gentleness. “Stand.”

He hesitated, the weight of your touch sending a shiver through him. His gaze faltered, lingering on your hand as though it were a treasure beyond his worth. But when he finally looked up, the confusion and uncertainty in his eyes were laid bare, and for a moment, he seemed like a lost, wounded creature—hesitant, unsure of himself.

“Stand up,” you repeated, your tone stronger now, a note of steel beneath the tender veneer. “You are a king. A king kneels for no one.”

His brow furrowed, the wariness in his expression unmistakable as he continued to search your face. Your gaze held him steadily, refusing to let go, refusing to allow him to sink back into the shadows. Cautiously, he rose to his feet. Your hand, still resting lightly upon his arm, guiding him until he stood at his full height. He seemed even taller now, towering above you to the point where the top of your head barely reached his shoulders.

You stepped closer, the space between you vanishing, your head tilting back as you looked up at him. Even though he loomed over you, his presence larger than life, the vulnerability in his eyes made your chest squeeze.

“Look at me,” you murmured, lifting your free hand to his face. Your movements were unhurried, as though you were giving him the chance to retreat if he so wished. But he remained still, his breath catching as your fingers grazed his cheek, tracing the strong line of his jaw before cupping his face with a touch that was achingly gentle.

“Y/N—” he breathed, his voice scarcely more than a murmur, the broken plea within it tugging at the deepest parts of you.

Your gaze softened, and with a tenderness that startled even yourself, you leaned in, the distance between you shrinking further until your forehead rested against his. His breath mingled with yours, uneven and labored, as if it were a struggle for him to simply remain standing.

Your thumb moved in a slow, careful caress against his skin, brushing away a single tear that had slipped past his defenses. He exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders ebbing as you held him close, his presence anchoring you as much as you were anchoring him.

“I see you,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth contained within those three simple words.

His eyes closed for a fleeting moment, as if he were savoring the sweetness of your words, letting them seep into the deepest, most wounded parts of him. When he looked at you again, there was something different in his gaze—a depth of emotion that was almost too raw to bear.

“What is it that you see when you look at me?” he asked quietly.

You inhaled slowly, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath, the fragility that lingered beneath the surface of his strength.

“I see a man who has faced battles no one should ever endure,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone with exquisite care, “a man who carries the weight of a crown and the burden of his past with more grace than he knows. I see the courage that others overlook, the goodness that still remains—hidden beneath the scars and the sorrow. I see the man you are, and the man you wish to become.”

A tremor ran through him, and he bowed his head, his forehead brushing against yours, the closeness of your bodies rendering words unnecessary. You felt the warmth of his breath against your lips, tasted the unspoken promise in the air between you.

“Tell me I am not lost to you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as if he were speaking through a pain too profound to voice.

Your hand, still cradling his face, tilted his head upward, forcing him to meet your gaze. You held him there, your eyes burning with a fierce intensity that matched the storm within your own heart.

“You are not lost to me,” you vowed, your voice a quiet, resolute promise. “But I do not forgive you. . .yet.”

A breath of relief escaped him, a sound so soft and unsteady that it made your heart clench.

“Yet…” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. “Yet is good. Yet is hope.”

“Perhaps.”

A single tear slid down his cheek, and you brushed it away, your touch as light as a feather, a quiet acceptance in your gesture that left him breathless.

“I see you,” you whispered again, the words a balm to both your wounds. “All of you. And I am not afraid, I will not look away.”

A shuddering breath escaped him, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted from his soul. In this moment, there was no king and queen, no titles or formalities—just two people standing in the quiet aftermath of pain and sorrow, holding on to the hope of something more.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice a broken whisper that reverberated through the stillness around you. “Thank you… for seeing me.”

You nodded slowly, the barest of smiles curving your lips as you let your forehead rest against his once more. And in that shared silence, amidst the chaos of emotions and the stillness of the night, you both found a measure of peace—however fleeting it may be.

You could feel it in the way his breath mingled with yours, in the way his hands shook ever so slightly as they hovered, uncertain, at your waist.

“James…” you breathed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a plea.

Something snapped within him then, the fragility giving way to an onslaught of need, desire—days of yearning and pain and longing surging forward all at once. His fingers tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole the very breath from your lungs.

His lips were searing and desperate, and it had set your entire being aflame. He kissed you as though he were trying to brand his very soul onto yours, as if he were afraid that if he let go, you would vanish into the darkness that had claimed so much of his life.

Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers threading through the dark locks as you held him close, every ounce of your own longing and sorrow pouring into the kiss. His hands moved restlessly over your back, your sides, seeking to memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you open, deepening the kiss until it felt as if you were drowning in him—lost to the overwhelming heat and passion of his embrace.

You gasped against his mouth, the sound swallowed by his fervent kiss, his lips trailing down to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the delicate skin of your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, each one reverent and almost frantic, as if he were both worshipping you and punishing himself for the times he had pushed you away.

“I have longed for you,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice a broken rasp against your skin. “Dreamt of you… even when I tried to bury it, to banish the thought of you from my mind… you were always there. Always.”

“Show me,” you whispered, your own voice trembling with the force of your emotions.

And with a low, guttural sound, he obeyed, his hands gripping you tighter as he captured your lips once more. This kiss was slower, deeper, a languid exploration that felt like the unraveling of every barrier, every wall you had erected between each other. His mouth moved over yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his grip, as if he were pouring every unspoken word, every apology, into the kiss.

Your hands slid down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, each pulse a testament to the life that still burned fiercely within him. You felt yourself sinking into him, the world narrowing until there was nothing but the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body pressed against you. He kissed you until your lungs burned, until every thought melted away, leaving only the heady sensation of being entirely, irrevocably consumed by him.

When you finally pulled apart, gasping for air,

the room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth in the corner and the faint rustling of fabric. Bucky’s hands had found the lacing of your dress, his fingers pausing there as if he were making some silent vow to himself.

“James…wait.” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness. He remained unmoving, his fingers trembling slightly against your back, his breath fanning warmly against the nape of your neck.

“Do you wish me to stop?” he murmured, his tone strained, a mixture of longing and restraint warring within it.

Your throat tightened at the question, and you shook your head slowly, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. “No, I just. . . This is my first time bedding a man.”

Bucky froze, his hands stilling where they rested against your bare skin. His gaze, sharp and searching, locked onto yours.

“We don’t have to do this,” he murmured, voice soft yet firm, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned close. “Not if you don’t want to.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He had every right to you, every reason to expect this, and yet there was no demand in his eyes.

“But we must,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, a strange mix of conviction and uncertainty. “It’s our duty to consummate—”

“Fuck duty,” Bucky interrupted, his tone gentle yet edged with steel. He lifted your chin, holding you there, making sure you saw the truth in his eyes. “I don’t care about duty, or obligation, or what anyone else expects of us. The only thing I care about is you.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the raw intensity of his gaze.

“Tell me what you want,” he continued softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “Tell me if this is something you desire, if this is what you need. Because if it’s not—” His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his expression unyielding, determined. “Then we’ll stop right here.”

No one had ever given you this power, this choice. Not when so much rested on this union—on you fulfilling your role as his wife. And yet here he was, offering it all to you as if he didn’t care about anything but your comfort.

“James,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word. You shook your head slowly, blinking away the sudden prick of tears. “I do desire this.”

His shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as a soft, relieved smile curved his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm and soothing on your skin.

“Then it’s only us,” he murmured, his voice a promise, a vow. “Tonight, it’s not for duty, not for the crown—just for us.”

You nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your palms. His lips brushed yours in the lightest of kisses, a tender affirmation of everything unspoken between you.

“Turn around,” he said softly.

Your heart raced as you complied, turning your back to him. His fingers, tentative at first, began to pull at the ribbons holding your gown together. Each tug loosened the fabric, releasing the tension along your spine. His knuckles brushed your skin as he worked, the contact igniting a fire beneath your flesh.

With each ribbon that came undone, the dress loosened further, slipping lower until it barely clung to your shoulders. You watched his reflection in the mirror—the way his eyes were fixed on you, his expression intense, almost reverent.

His hands hesitated at the last knot, his gaze lifting to meet yours in the mirror. The question in his eyes was clear: Are you sure? You gave a slight nod, your breath catching in anticipation.

Slowly, his hands moved upward, tracing the path of your spine until they reached your shoulders. With a gentle, deliberate motion, he slid the gown off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your body until it pooled at your feet, leaving you exposed before him.

A shuddering breath escaped him. “You are… breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice hushed, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment.

His fingers lingered at the small of your back, his touch light but firm as though grounding himself. The heat of his gaze roamed over you, burning in its intensity. He dipped his head lower, brushing his lips over your bare shoulder, sending a ripple of sensation through you.

“Turn around,” he whispered, his tone filled with both command and entreaty.

You turned to face him, pulse racing. The look on his face—so raw, so utterly captivated—made your breath catch. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he hovered just above your skin. When he finally touched you, his palm resting gently against your waist, you could feel the restraint coiled within him, the careful control he was exercising.

“James, I…” You struggled to find the right words, but before you could speak, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, to the corner of your lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. “But if this becomes too much, if you want me to stop, just tell me, and I will.”

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, the words escaping you unbidden, honest.

His hands tightened on your waist, and with a careful, reverent touch, he lifted you slightly and guided you back to the bed. The thin chemise you wore shifted as he moved you, baring more of your skin, his eyes following every inch of exposed flesh.

His hands moved over you with a kind of restrained urgency, his touch both firm and achingly gentle. He leaned down, his mouth ghosting over the delicate skin at the base of your neck, his fingers tracing the path of your collarbone, your shoulder, your waist.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice strained, roughened with need.

You nodded, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. “I’m sure, James. Just… be with me.”

His mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was slow and deep, a deliberate exploration that left you breathless. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you—the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, the steady, unrelenting need building between you.

He eased you back onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. With a tenderness that made your chest ache, he began to kiss his way down your neck, your shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, resonant hum that sent shivers through you.

“It’s not,” you whispered, your voice a breathless sigh as your hands roamed over his back, the hard planes of his chest. “You’re perfect.”

He smiled against your skin, his breath hot and unsteady. “No, my queen. You’re the perfect one.”

He captured your mouth in another kiss, deeper this time, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that felt like worship. And as he moved against you, every touch, every kiss a testament to how much he cared, you felt yourself falling, losing yourself in the man who was giving you everything—his heart, his soul, his very breath.

There’s something so surreal about what’s happening that your mind can’t fully process it. It feels like you’re watching a play—like it can’t possibly be you in this situation.

You’re lying on your side, facing him. His hands are on your skin—slightly rough, callused. Warm against your chilled flesh. Strong, though he’s not using that strength right now. He could subdue you with ease, but there’s no need.

He kisses you again, his lips lingering as his hands move over your arm, your back, your neck, your outer thigh. His touch is gentle, yet firm, each caress feeling like a exploration. It’s almost as if he’s giving you a massage, except you can feel the sexual intent behind his actions.

He dips his head lower, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. His teeth graze your skin lightly, and a shiver runs through you at the pleasurable sensation. Your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the unexpected tenderness. It’s disarming, this gentleness of his, but at the same time, you feel… cherished.

One of his hands slides down, resting on your backside, kneading the soft flesh with a touch that’s both possessive and comforting. His other hand travels upward, skimming over your belly, tracing the curve of your rib cage. When he finally reaches your breast, he cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly—just enough to make you catch your breath. Your nipples are already hard, and his touch feels good, almost soothing.

Each movement, each touch, feels like a silent vow—a promise to show you everything he’s capable of giving, as if he’s trying to communicate with you through every caress. And you let yourself get lost in it, in the heady sensation of being completely, utterly his.

You keep your eyes shut as he gently rolls you onto your back. He’s partially on top of you, but most of his weight rests on the bed. He doesn’t want to crush you, you realize, and a sense of gratitude washes over you. He lowers his head, placing tender kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, your stomach. His mouth is hot, and each kiss leaves a moist trail on your skin, setting it aflame.

Then he closes his lips around your right nipple and sucks lightly. Your body arches instinctively, a wave of tension pooling low in your belly. He repeats the action on your other nipple, his mouth warm and demanding, and the tension inside you deepens, intensifies. He senses it—of course, he does—because his hand moves lower, venturing between your thighs and feeling the slick evidence of your desire.

His fingers explore gently, and you can’t help but let out a soft gasp as your body responds to his touch, the pressure building, tightening. Every sensation blurs into the next, leaving you helpless under his slow, deliberate ministrations.

“Does it feel good, my queen?” he murmurs, stroking your folds with maddening precision.

A whimper escapes your lips as his mouth travels lower, the tickle of his hair brushing against your heated skin. You know what he intends, and your mind blanks out when he reaches his destination. For a moment, instinct makes you try to resist, but he effortlessly pulls your legs apart, spreading you open to him.

His fingers part your folds gently, exposing you completely to his gaze. Then he lowers his head and kisses you there, sending a jolt of electric heat through your entire body. His skilled mouth licks and nibbles around your sensitive clit until you’re moaning, your fingers clutching at the sheets. Then he closes his lips around it and lightly sucks.

The pleasure is so intense, so unexpected, that your eyes fly open in shock. You don’t understand what’s happening to you, and it’s terrifying. You’re burning from the inside out, throbbing between your legs. Your heart is racing so fast you can barely catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you find yourself panting, gasping for air.

“B…Bucky, am I supposed to feel this way?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of innocence and confusion.

His only response is a deep, throaty groan against you, the sound vibrating through your core and making your breath hitch. The gentle puffs of his breath against your slick skin make you shiver, and when you instinctively try to pull away—overwhelmed by the intensity of his mouth—he tightens his grip, holding you steady. His hands are strong yet careful, firm but tender, keeping you in place with ease.

“You’re close my queen, I’ll take you there.” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, sensual promise.

He doesn’t relent, his tongue working you with maddening speed, teasing and tasting, drawing out soft whimpers and gasps from your lips. The pleasure builds higher and higher, a wave crashing over you, making you feel like you’re on the verge of shattering. His hands keep you grounded, his touch both possessive and gentle as he guides you through every pulse, every tremor of sensation.

You cry out, your body twisting and arching, but he holds you steady, not letting you escape the overwhelming pleasure that has you unraveling beneath him. It’s too much, too intense, and yet you don’t want it to end—you can’t imagine it ending.

“Let go for me,” he breathes, the words a command and a plea all at once, his mouth never stopping its sinful work. “Just let go, I have you.”

The tension inside you is building, coiling tighter and tighter, until it feels unbearable. You’re squirming against his mouth, pushing and pulling at the same time, your body caught in a desperate dance. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his teeth, sends you spiraling closer to some elusive, dangerous edge.

And then, with a soft cry, you go over it.

Your entire body tightens, muscles locking as you’re overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure so intense that your vision blurs. Your toes curl, your back arches off the bed, and you feel your inner muscles pulse in rapid, uncontrollable spasms.

You realize, in a dazed, breathless haze, that you’ve just had an orgasm, your first. Your limbs feel like jelly, your skin flushed and trembling as the aftershocks ripple through you.

He doesn’t move away immediately, his mouth lingering, pressing soft kisses to your sensitive flesh as he murmurs soothing words, guiding you gently back down from the heights of ecstasy.

The first orgasm of your life. And it was at the hands—or rather the mouth—of your husband. Your open your eyes again. But he’s not done with you yet. He crawls up your body and kisses your mouth again. He tastes differently now, salty, with a slightly musky undertone. It’s from you, you realize. You’re tasting yourself on his lips.

A hot wave of embarrassment rolls through your body even as the hunger inside you intensifies. His kiss is more carnal than before, rougher. His tongue penetrates your mouth in an obvious imitation of the sexual act, and his hips settle heavily between your legs.

One of his hands is holding the back of your head, while another one is between your thighs, lightly rubbing and stimulating me again. You don’t really resist, although your body tenses as the nervousness returns. You can feel the heat and hardness of his erection pushing against your inner thigh, and you know it’s going to hurt you.

“J-James,” you whisper, opening your eyes to look at him. “Please take it slow . . . I’ve never done this before—”

His nostrils flare, and his eyes gleam brighter. “Of course, my queen,” he murmurs softly. His voice is low and soothing, yet it carries a promise—a vow to be careful, to go at your pace.

With trembling hands, he hastily undoes his trousers, pushing them down just enough. When he shifts back slightly, his length springs free, standing thick and proud between you. Your eyes widen as you take him in—long and intimidatingly hard, the sight making your heart race with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

He notices your gaze and the way you bite your lower lip, your apprehension clear as your eyes trace every inch of him. Swallowing hard, you try to reconcile how something that large could possibly fit inside you.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He reaches out, gently brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers, grounding you with the softness of his touch. “You have my word.”

Your gaze flickers back to his, and despite the nervousness thrumming through your veins, you nod slowly. “Don’t stop, I want this.”

Then he shifts his hips slightly, using one hand to guide himself to your entrance. You gasp as the tip of his cock nudges against your slick folds, then slowly, carefully, begins to push inside. You’re wet, but your body tenses, resisting the unfamiliar intrusion. You saw how big he is, but the sensation of him stretching you now feels overwhelming—impossibly large as he inches his way into your body.

Pain flares, a sharp burning that makes you cry out, your hands flying up to press against his shoulders. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with the effort of holding back. Beads of sweat form along his brow, and you realize he’s straining to keep himself under control.

“Relax, Y/N,” he whispers harshly, his voice taut. “It will hurt less if you relax.”

You’re trembling, body taut like a bowstring, unable to follow his advice because you’re too nervous—too overwhelmed by the pain. It’s too much, having even a little bit of him inside you. You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers digging in his skin as your body fights to accommodate him.

But he’s relentless, his jaw clenched tightly as he continues to press forward, his thick girth stretching you inch by agonizing inch. Your flesh gives way slowly, reluctantly, the resistance in your body fierce, but he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. Each slow push is a battle, and the pain sharpens, your eyes squeezing shut as you sob quietly, nails scratching at his back.

“Shhh, breathe for me, my queen,” he murmurs, his voice strained. He’s trembling too, every muscle in his body tense as he’s fighting against himself.

He pauses for a second, buried halfway inside, his breath coming in ragged pants. A prominent vein pulses near his temple, his face contorted with effort. He looks like he’s in pain—suffering even—but you know the truth. This is pleasurable for him, this act that’s hurting you so much. The realization makes your chest tighten, but before you can say anything, he lowers his head, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his voice breaking. And then, before you can process his words, he pushes forward again—firmly, unyieldingly—tearing through the thin membrane inside you with a single thrust.

You almost black out from the pain.

A cry bursts from your lips, the pain flaring white-hot as he stills, his full length now buried deep within you and it’s the most agonizingly invasive thing you’ve ever experienced. He doesn’t move, his hips pressed firmly against yours, his breath coming in harsh, unsteady gasps above you.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice strained but soothing as he keeps himself perfectly still, letting your body adjust around him. He’s so much larger than you, so much stronger. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezed shut, his entire being focused on not moving an inch.

Your chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, your body trembling beneath him. The pain is sharp, throbbing, but there’s something else now—a sense of fullness, of being completely joined with him. His fingers slide down to entwine with yours, holding your hands as though anchoring you both.

“Just… breathe,” he whispers again, his voice barely more than a ragged breath.

It’s a long, aching moment before the pain begins to ebb, your body slowly, tentatively adjusting to the size of him. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and in that instant, you see it all—his struggle, his desire, and his absolute devotion to you.

“James… you can move,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes closing briefly in relief. “Are you sure?”

You nod, squeezing his hands. “Yes. I… I want you to.”

Slowly, carefully, he withdraws an inch, then pushes back in, the movement sending a jolt of sensation through you. It still hurts, but there’s something else now—something warm and electric, something that has your breath catching in your throat.

Initially, his movements only make it worse, each thrust adding to the agony as your body struggles to accommodate him. The pain is sharp, your muscles instinctively tightening around him, and it’s all you can do to keep from crying out. You grit your teeth, your breath hitching as he fills you completely, stretching you in a way that feels both impossible and overwhelming.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving your face as he moves again, each slow thrust careful, controlled. The pain begins to blur at the edges, each movement bringing with it a new kind of pleasure, subtle but building with each careful stroke.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice rough and hushed. “I’ll stop. Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

But you shake your head, your body slowly relaxing beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling but resolute. “Please… don’t stop.”

And so he doesn’t, his movements becoming a little deeper, a little steadier as he pulls you both into a rhythm, a dance of slow, aching intimacy that leaves you breathless.

Sensing your discomfort, he pauses, his brow furrowing in concern. His hand slips between your bodies, finding your sensitive clit. He strokes it softly, his finger moving in slow, gentle circles. The sensation is startling, a ripple of unexpected pleasure that momentarily distracts you from the pain. You whimper, your hips shifting reflexively as he keeps his touch light and steady, his thumb brushing over your swollen flesh with expert precision.

“Focus on this,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “Just this, love.”

You try, your mind grasping onto the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you. It’s small at first, a subtle flicker against the backdrop of pain, but it grows stronger, more insistent as he continues to tease you. His hips resume their slow, steady rhythm, moving your body in tandem with his hand, each thrust pushing you against his fingers.

The tension begins to gather inside you again. The pain is still there, but it’s changing, being slowly overtaken by the pleasure. Your breath hitches, your body responding despite itself, and you feel a flush spread across your skin. It’s almost maddening, how he manages to draw both pain and pleasure from you at the same time, your body caught in the push and pull of conflicting sensations.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his voice strained, as if he’s fighting against something deep within himself. “You’re doing so well, Y/N… so beautiful like this.”

You’re writhing beneath him now, every muscle trembling as he moves with agonizing slowness, his hips rocking against yours. The pressure builds, the friction of his length inside you both painful and electrifying. You let out a soft cry, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

And then something shifts in him. His control falters. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest as his movements change—becoming less measured, less restrained.

“Yes—Oh, my God—James,” Your hands travel down until they settled on his bottom, urging him to plunge into you harder. His thrusts deepen, the careful rhythm faltering as he pulls back only to push back in harder, the motion sending a jolt of pleasurable sensation through you.

“Fuck,” he grits out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fights for control. “You’re so tight, my queen, it feels so good.” His voice is rough, the words almost guttural, and you can feel the tension radiating off him, the way his hands tighten on your hips as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

But he can’t.

With a shuddering breath, he shifts again, his hand stilling between your legs as both of his arms come up to cradle your body. He draws back, just enough to look at you, his gaze fierce and dark, filled with a hunger that takes your breath away.

“I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” His voice breaks, and then he’s moving again, harder this time, his control slipping completely.

“It feels good, James—keep going.” You reassured him, through a needy whimper.

His hips snap forward, his pace increasing as he pushes into you with a force that has you crying out. Each thrust is deeper, harder, driving the air from your lungs, and the pain flares, bright and searing. But underneath it, the pleasure grows—an insistent, throbbing heat that coils low in your belly.

Bucky’s losing himself, the careful restraint he’d shown before unraveling with every push and pull of his body. You can feel it in the way he holds you, the way his breath comes in harsh, uneven gasps against your skin.

“James…!” you sob, your body arching beneath him as he drives into you. He grunts in response, the sound raw, almost animalistic. His pace is relentless now, his thrusts coming faster, harder, each one dragging a mixture of pain and pleasure from you that has you trembling, gasping.

“Fuck, you’re perfect… you’re taking me so well,” he groans, his voice strained and desperate. His hands move to your thighs, lifting them slightly to angle you just right, and then he’s pounding into you with strength that leaves you breathless, your fingers scrabbling against his back.

“God, you’re so tight, so wet—” His words are a growl, his teeth grazing your neck as he buries himself to the hilt, his body shuddering against yours. “Can’t hold back… can’t—”

He pulls almost all the way out, back hunching, and then slams back in, the impact sending a shockwave through you. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, but he doesn’t stop. He’s completely lost now, his hips snapping forward with a brutal, punishing rhythm that has you writhing beneath him, the world narrowing to the feel of him inside you, the way he’s filling you so completely.

“James, please—” You don’t know what you’re asking for, your mind a blur of sensation as he drives you higher, closer to that precipice.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice a rough command in your ear. “I need to feel you—need to feel you fall apart around me.”

He reaches between your bodies again, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it with just enough pressure to push you over the edge. The pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave, your body seizing, muscles clamping down around him as you scream his name.

Your orgasm tears through you with blinding intensity, your inner walls fluttering, clenching around him as the world dissolves into darkness. You’re only dimly aware of him groaning above you, his hips jerking as he follows you over the edge, his release pulsing deep within you. He holds himself there, buried to the hilt, his body trembling as he spills into you, his voice a raw, broken sound in your ear.

Slowly, the tension eases, the fire burning through your veins gradually fading to a warm, languid glow. He pulls out carefully, his movements gentle, and you wince at the sudden emptiness. But before you can say anything, he’s gathering you into his arms, rolling to the side and pulling you close.

His chest rises and falls against your back, his breath still uneven as he wraps himself around you, holding you tightly.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough and full of concern. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, his hands stroking your hair soothingly.

You nod weakly, leaning into his embrace, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. “Yes… I’m okay.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath, his grip tightening for a moment before he relaxes, his body curving protectively around yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs again, his voice soft and broken. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I tried, but I couldn’t—”

“Don’t be sorry,” you interrupt gently, reaching up to brush your fingers over his cheek. He closes his eyes, his forehead resting against yours. He holds you close, his warmth and presence surrounding you.

× × × ×

The soft, predawn light filtered through the heavy drapes, casting a muted glow over the bedchamber. The air was still, the quiet broken only by the faint rustle of sheets and the soft murmur of voices.

You lay nestled against Bucky’s chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns along the ridges of his muscles, your body relaxed and warmth from the shared intimacy of the night before.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, his gaze tender as he watched you, his hand absently stroking your hair. “Did I mention that you’re even more beautiful in the morning?” he murmured softly, his voice still rough with sleep.

You gave a soft, breathless laugh, shifting closer until your nose brushed against his. “You’re not too bad yourself, Your Majesty.”

The playful response earned you a gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a adoration that made your heart flutter. What started as a brief caress deepened, his hand sliding to the small of your back, holding you close as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable.

The world beyond the room felt like a distant memory—a place that no longer mattered. There was only the two of you, cocooned in the warmth of the bed, the connection between you forged anew in the quiet hours of the night. His presence, once a source of confusion and pain, had become your anchor, steadying you amidst the swirling uncertainty that had defined your marriage until now.

His lips moved against yours, tender and sure, conveying what words never could. You sighed into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you allowed yourself to get lost in him once more. He responded with a low hum of approval, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to settle against your bare skin—

And then the door to the chamber swung open.

“James, I have told you time and time again that you must learn to prioritize your du—”

“Your Majesty!” a voice interrupted suddenly—Captain Rogers. He stepped into the doorway, eyes wide with alarm as he held out a hand, trying to stop the Queen Dowager from taking another step. “Wait! Please, I—”

But it was too late. Queen Winifred breezed past him with a sharp frown, completely oblivious to his warning. Steve barely had time to avert his gaze, he’d caught a glimpse of you and Bucky in the bed, your figures entangled in a state of undress. The faintest hint of a flush crept up Steve’s neck as he clenched his jaw, his discomfort visible as he hastily stepped back, turning his head away with an almost comical speed.

The shock on her face was unmistakable, her eyes wide as she took in the sight before her—Bucky leaning over you, the two of you tangled together, the sheets barely covering your exposed skin. Your hair was tousled, your eyes still half-lidded with the lingering haze of sleep and intimacy.

“Mother—” Bucky choked out, his own shock quickly replaced by a fierce protectiveness. He moved in a flash, yanking the covers higher, shielding your body from view even as his gaze flickered with annoyance and embarrassment.

Your heart leapt into your throat, your face burning with mortification as you tried to hide behind the blankets, only partially successful. But the Queen Dowager had already turned to her back, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders tense as she stared resolutely at the doorframe. One hand clutched at the delicate fan she carried, the edge of it trembling slightly, the motion so subtle it was almost imperceptible.

“I—good heavens,” she stammered, uncharacteristically flustered. “I… I had no idea—”

Bucky shifted beside you, his voice strained but composed. “Your timing, as always, is impeccable, Mother.”

The sarcasm in his tone was enough to snap the Dowager Queen out of her daze. She cleared her throat, her fingers tightening around the fan as she lifted it to shield her face, the delicate lace trembling as she snapped it open.

“I… I came to speak with you about your lack of action at your own honeymoon, but… clearly, this is not the appropriate time.”

“No,” Bucky agreed, a trace of amusement lacing his words now. “It is not.”

“Right. Well.” The Queen Dowager’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the fan even tighter, holding it as if it could somehow ward off the awkwardness of the situation. “Carry on. I… I shall speak with you later, James.”

And without another word, she turned around sharply, retreating from the room, her face hidden behind the fan as she passed a mortified Steve, who did his best to look anywhere but at his queen or king.

As Winifred left the room, Steve allowed himself one final glance before swiftly stepping aside, his gaze meeting Bucky’s for just the briefest moment. The look of sheer exasperation and embarrassment on Bucky’s face made Steve fight the urge to smirk, though he wisely kept his expression neutral.

Instead, he took a step back, cleared his throat awkwardly, and called out, “I’ll, uh… ensure no one else disturbs Your Majesties.”

“See that you do,” Bucky muttered dryly, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to you.

Steve quickly retreated down the hallway, disappearing around the corner, leaving the two of you alone once more.

You stared at the closed door, your mind struggling to process what had just happened, the lingering haze of sleep and the afterglow of intimacy shattered in an instant. Slowly, you turned to Bucky, who was staring at the door with a bemused expression, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

“I suppose that’s one way to inform her we’ve consummated the marriage,” he remarked dryly, his gaze sliding back to you, a wicked glint in his eye.

You gaped at him, incredulous. “You find this amusing?”

He shrugged, the movement causing the sheets to slip down, exposing more of his bare chest. “I find it… effective.”

Despite yourself, a startled laugh bubbled up, the absurdity too much to ignore. You shook your head, your shoulders shaking with silent mirth as the tension dissolved.

“I don’t know whether to be mortified or relieved,” you admitted, pressing a hand to your flushed face. “She’ll never look at me the same way again.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and he reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I doubt she’ll ever stop looking at you as the formidable woman who dared to march to Annecy in the middle of the night just to confront me,” he murmured, his gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, something that made your heart ache in the most wonderful way. “But now… she’ll see you as something more. As someone who has claimed what is rightfully hers.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the taste of him sweet and familiar. “And that, my queen, is nothing to be ashamed of.”

You smiled against his lips, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, savoring the feel of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“No,” you whispered, “it’s not.”

And with that, you pulled him back down to you, the Queen Dowager and the world outside forgotten once more.

× × × ×

The grand marble steps leading up to the main palace seemed to stretch endlessly as you and Bucky ascended side by side. The palace loomed above you, its spires piercing the sky, but there was a comfort in its familiarity, a sense of returning home. Guards and servants bowed low, murmuring, “Your Majesties,” as you both passed. Bucky’s hand rested on the small of your back, steady and sure, his thumb absently brushing over the silk fabric of your gown.

The Great Hall is bustling with activity, the murmur of voices rising and falling like waves crashing against the shore. Citizens from all walks of life fill the space—farmers, merchants, artisans, and healers—each awaiting their turn to approach the king. Bucky sits on the gilded throne, his posture regal, yet his gaze is softer than usual, focused not on the people but on you seated beside him on a smaller chair.

One by one, the citizens present their concerns—requests for land disputes, grievances with local laws, petitions for aid after a particularly harsh winter. Bucky listens attentively, his expression thoughtful, but more often than not, his gaze shifts to you.

“What do you think, my queen?” he asks, his voice steady and genuine.

The first time he did, you hesitated, taken aback by the sudden attention. But Bucky’s eyes were reassuring, filled with the unspoken message that he trusted your judgment. So you spoke, and your advice—though tentative at first—was well-received.

Now, you sit straight-backed, exuding a quiet confidence as you consider each matter carefully before responding.

The citizens have begun to murmur among themselves about your growing role in the king’s court. Whispers of admiration mingle with doubt—some marveling at your wisdom, others wondering if the king’s indulgence will lead to reckless decisions.

The ripple of tension becomes tangible when Lord Carter steps forward, a calculating smile tugging at his lips. He bows low to Bucky, the motion exaggerated, then turns his attention to you, his eyes gleaming with thinly veiled skepticism.

“Your Majesties,” he begins smoothly, his tone dripping with courtesy, “it is a pleasure to see our king back on the throne. And to witness our gracious queen actively participating in the affairs of the realm… It is most intriguing.”

You return his smile with politeness, though you can feel Bucky stiffen beside you. Lord Carter is known for his silver tongue, and his words are never as benign as they seem. “I am merely assisting where I can, Lord Carter,” you reply, keeping your voice even.

“Of course, of course,” he agrees with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And yet, I wonder if Your Majesty’s counsel might not be too… idealistic?” He pauses, letting the word hang in the air. “Take the recent suggestion to provide seeds to the farmers affected by the blight. While generous, such a proposal could strain the treasury and set a precedent for the crown to supply every failed harvest. Perhaps the wiser course would be to consider less costly alternatives.”

Murmurs of agreement and disagreement spread through the hall, eyes shifting between Lord Carter and you, waiting to see how you would respond.

You keep your composure, though you feel the heat of scrutiny pressing down on you. “I appreciate your concern for the treasury, Lord Carter,” you say, your tone calm and measured. “However, a stable food supply is the backbone of our kingdom’s prosperity. If we let the farmers struggle, they will plant less next season, leading to higher prices and unrest among the lower classes. The cost of seeds is an investment in our future, one that will yield far more than it costs us now.”

Lord Carter’s eyes narrow, his smile tightening. “An investment, indeed. But how do we ensure that the investment is not squandered? Some farmers may take advantage of the crown’s generosity, and others may fail despite our aid. What then?”

You do not falter. “We will monitor the situation closely, sending representatives to oversee the distribution and usage of resources. We will also encourage local communities to form cooperative groups, ensuring that each village has a stake in its own success. This way, we not only provide aid but empower our people to be self-sufficient.”

A ripple of approval spreads through the hall. Even those who had been skeptical seem impressed by your thoughtfulness. Bucky’s gaze never wavers from you, pride shining in his eyes as you calmly hold your ground.

Lord Carter, however, is not finished. “And what of the well that dried up in Westport? Your suggestion to dig a new one may seem like a straightforward solution, but have you considered the possibility that the source may have been permanently depleted? If that’s the case, no amount of digging will restore it. Should we not consider relocating the village instead?”

Gasps of shock and disbelief echo through the hall. Relocating an entire village is an extreme measure, one that would displace hundreds of families and disrupt countless lives. Your hands tighten around the armrests of your chair, but you force yourself to remain calm.

“Relocation should always be a last resort,” you reply firmly. “The engineers we send will first conduct a thorough survey to determine if the well’s depletion is a result of temporary shifts or a permanent change in the water table. If it is found to be permanent, then we can discuss the feasibility of relocation. But I will not uproot our people without exhausting every option to preserve their homes.”

For a moment, there is silence. Then, a slow clap echoes through the hall.

Lord Carter’s smile is sharp, predatory. “Well said, Your Majesty. It seems you have given this more thought than I assumed. I only hope your efforts yield the desired results.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Lord Carter. “I trust my queen’s judgment, Lord Carter. She has proven herself more than capable of understanding the intricacies of governance.” His voice is low, but it carries an unmistakable warning.

Lord Carter inclines his head, the smile never leaving his lips. “Of course, Your Majesty. It was never my intention to suggest otherwise. I merely wish to ensure that our realm remains strong and our resources wisely managed.”

With a final bow, Lord Carter steps back, leaving you and Bucky to exchange a glance. There is a question in Bucky’s eyes—Are you all right?

You give a slight nod, your lips curving into a determined smile. Yes, you seem to say without words. I am.

Bucky’s fingers brush against yours once more, a silent vow of support and solidarity. “Then let it be known,” he announces, his voice ringing out across the hall, “that from this day forward, Queen Y/N will sit beside me in all matters of governance. Her voice is to be heard and her counsel considered as equal to mine.”

The hall erupts into applause and murmurs of approval, but the hard gleam in Lord Carter’s eyes does not fade. He bows once more, his smile inscrutable, and turns away.

You watch him go, your heart steady. Whatever games Lord Carter intends to play, you are ready.

And you will not lose.

× × × ×

The grand council chamber now buzzed with tension, the gathered noblemen exchanging wary glances as Bucky faced them from the head of the long table. Prime Minister Fury, Lord Pierce, and the representatives of House Stark, House Romanoff, House Maximoff, House Odinson, House Quill, and House Carter were all present, each of them bearing the weight of their house’s influence and expectations.

It was a subtle standoff, a test of authority cloaked in polite words and thinly veiled demands.

You hadn't meant to overhear—you had only been wandering the halls when you stumbled upon the slightly ajar double doors and the raised voices inside. But something kept you rooted in place, your pulse quickening as you realized who was speaking.

Prime Minister Fury broke the silence first, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as it settled on Bucky. “Your Majesty, forgive our persistence, but it’s been weeks since your marriage, and… the court is rife with speculation.”

You leaned closer, eyes narrowing as you strained to hear. You couldn’t see Bucky’s face from where you stood, but the tautness in his voice was unmistakable.

“Speculation?” His voice was low, a dangerous undercurrent running through it. “What sort of speculation?”

A murmur rippled through the room, and Lord Haynesworth, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking. “There have been… questions, Your Majesty. Questions regarding… well… whether the marriage has been properly consummated.”

Your heart lurched at the word, heat rushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and anger. Was that what this was about? They were discussing your private life as if it were some kind of public spectacle, something to be scrutinized and judged.

“Do not make us ask the question outright, Your Majesty,” Prime Minister Fury said finally, his tone edged with steel. “But we must know. The stability of the Crown depends on it. If the marriage has not been consummated, the legitimacy of the union—and of any future heirs—could be called into question.”

Silence fell, thick and heavy. You could practically feel Bucky’s gaze sweeping over each lord, daring them to press further.

“This is not your concern,” he bit out finally, each word clipped and seething with frustration. “This is my marriage. My business.”

“Your marriage is our concern,” Fury countered, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unflinching. “It’s palace business, Parliament business, the business of the entire country! You cannot pretend otherwise.”

“The king’s marriage must be above reproach,” Lord Pierce interjected, his voice low but firm. “Without a legitimate heir, the crown’s stability—”

“Do not speak to me of stability!” Bucky snapped, his voice like a whip crack through the chamber. You jumped at the sound, your breath catching in your throat as the tension in the room thickened. “You told me I had to marry her for the sake of the Crown. I did.”

Silence fell, thick and heavy.

“You told me I had to charm her, to win her favor, to make her compliant to the needs of the Crown. I did that too,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl.

“Then you told me to keep her at arm’s length, to keep her from knowing me, because a king must always protect the secrets of his realm.” He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “I have followed every command, every directive, without fail. And now, you dare to demand this?”

The room seemed to shrink under the intensity of his gaze, the noblemen exchanging uncertain glances but remaining silent.

“You want to know if I’ve bedded her?” Bucky’s voice was soft now, deadly. “Yes. I have. Does that satisfy you?”

Prime Minister Fury held his ground, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his discomfort. “We must be sure, Your Majesty. The matter is not only about what is done but also about what is seen to be done. You must—”

“I must?” Bucky’s voice rose, the sound reverberating through the chamber like thunder. “I have done everything you’ve demanded of me! From the moment I took my first breath, it was hammered into me that my life was for the happiness or the misery of this great nation. That I must act, speak, feel in accordance with the needs of the Crown!”

His breathing quickened, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to contain the rage boiling within him.

“I am the image of duty,” he yelled, voice shaking with barely contained fury. “The Crown is embedded in me, lodged like a blade through my heart. You do not need to remind me of what is at stake.”

Lord Haynesworth shifted uneasily, his gaze flickering to the others before speaking cautiously. “Your Majesty, we are not questioning your dedication. But if the queen is not—”

“Do not speak of her.” Bucky’s tone was a low, dangerous growl. “She is my wife. Her worth is not for you to decide.”

A murmur of surprise swept through the chamber, the lords exchanging startled looks at the vehemence in his voice. They hadn’t said a word against the queen, yet Bucky’s defense of you was fierce, unwavering. As if the mere thought of anyone questioning you sent a surge of anger through him.

“Your Majesty, we only ask—”

“I have done my part,” Bucky interrupted coldly. “I will continue to do it, no matter the cost. But if any of you dare question her again, you will regret it.”

You stared, wide-eyed, at the scene unfolding before you, your heart beating loudly in your chest.

“Your Majesty, we’re merely trying to ensure the Crown’s safety. If the queen does not—”

“Enough!” Bucky roared, the sound echoing through the chamber, making the noblemen flinch. “I have bedded her. I have fulfilled my duty. That is all you need to know.”

He turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him as he stalked toward the doors. Just before he reached them, he paused, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.

“This meeting is dismissed.”

You stepped back quickly, heart racing as he stormed out, his expression thunderous. As the heavy doors closed behind him, you glanced back through the narrow gap, your heart still pounding.

A murmur of voices rose, low and uncertain.

“He has finally done it, then,” Lord Haynesworth muttered, a hint of relief in his tone.

“Good,” Lord Pierce nodded, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the table. “Then there’s still hope that we can secure an heir.”

“We need to tread carefully,” Prime Minister Fury agreed. “But with the consummation complete, it’s a step forward. We must focus now on ensuring that an heir is conceived swiftly.”

A ripple of murmured agreement passed through the room, the tension easing just slightly as the weight of this particular matter began to lift.

Lord Carter, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat softly, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Gentlemen, let us not forget… they have only just begun their marriage. We must allow time for nature to take its course.”

The other lords exchanged cautious nods, the relief growing as they considered his words.

“Quite right, Lord Carter,” Lord Pierce agreed. “We have time yet. If they continue in this manner, an heir will follow soon enough.”

Prime Minister Fury’s gaze lingered on the closed doors, his expression inscrutable. “But if this proves to be the only victory… if no heir is conceived…”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lord Carter interrupted smoothly, his smile widening ever so slightly. “For now, we should be pleased that the matter has progressed this far. Let us not trouble ourselves unnecessarily.”

As the lords exchanged nods and the tension began to dissipate, Lord Carter’s smile widened ever so slightly. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood of the table. It was a small, almost dismissive gesture, as though he were content to let the matter lie.

But not everyone in the chamber seemed convinced.

Lord Stark, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, watched Lord Carter with a scrutiny that went unnoticed by most of the others. There was something in the smooth way the man spoke, the casual ease with which he guided the conversation, that set Stark’s teeth on edge. He’d seen men like Carter before—men who wielded their influence like a blade hidden beneath velvet.

He glanced to his right, catching Lord Thor Odinson’s gaze. The two exchanged a wordless look—Thor’s brow furrowing ever so slightly, as if he too sensed the undercurrent of manipulation threading through the discussion.

“Lord Carter speaks wisely,” Stark said slowly, his voice carefully measured as he turned his gaze back to the man in question. “We must be patient.”

Lord Carter’s smile widened at the praise, his eyes gleaming with a hint of something unreadable. “Of course,” he murmured, inclining his head slightly. “After all, it is in patience that we find clarity.”

Tony held his gaze for a beat longer, the polite smile never quite reaching his eyes. “Indeed,” he said softly, a hint of irony threading through his tone. Then he leaned back, crossing his arms as if to signal that he was done with the matter.

Thor, still watching Lord Carter closely, let out a low hum, his expression thoughtful. He didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. The wary glance he shared with Stark spoke volumes.

Lord Carter either didn’t notice, or he pretended not to. He gave a gracious nod, the smile still playing at the corners of his lips, and then shifted his gaze to the other lords, effectively dismissing the silent exchange between Stark and Odinson.

But the suspicion lingered.

As the lords continued their murmurings, Lord Stark’s gaze never left Lord Carter’s face, his mind working rapidly. He didn’t know what game Carter was playing, but he knew one thing for certain—whatever it was, it was more than just a matter of marriage and heirs.

There was something else at stake. Something that Lord Carter was keeping hidden beneath that affable smile.

And if there was one thing Stark couldn’t stand, it was a man who played games with stakes he didn’t lay on the table for all to see.

× × × ×

The private study in the main palace was dim, thick curtains drawn to keep out the harsh afternoon sun. The air was heavy, and Bucky’s frustration filled the room like a storm cloud. He stood near the window, staring out at the sprawling gardens, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger.

“Your Majesty?” Sam’s voice broke through the silence, calm but edged with concern. He kept his distance, watching the way Bucky’s shoulders tensed with every breath he took. “Might I suggest taking a seat? You appear… troubled.”

Bucky didn’t move, his gaze still fixed on some distant point beyond the glass. The pressure behind his eyes had been building steadily since that damned meeting ended. A dull ache that was rapidly growing into something sharper, more dangerous.

“Your Majesty?” Sam pressed gently, stepping forward. “If I may, I think it best—”

But before he could finish, Bucky stumbled back, his hand flying to his temple as the pain exploded in his head—white-hot, blinding. He gritted his teeth, a strangled sound escaping him.

“Your Majesty!” Sam was beside him in an instant, his hands hovering just above Bucky’s arms, unsure if touching him would only make it worse. “Shall I summon Doctor Banner? Or Zemo?”

Bucky shook his head sharply, the motion only sending another stab of pain through his skull. His breath came in ragged bursts as he tried to fight it back, trying to push it away.

“No,” he managed through gritted teeth, his voice tight. “I’m… I’m fine.”

But the pain didn’t ease. It only intensified, and Bucky’s knees buckled, forcing him to grab the edge of the desk for support.

“Bucky, please,” Sam urged, his voice low but firm. “You’re getting the symptoms. You need—”

“Get Banner,” Bucky ground out, the words barely more than a rasp. “Now.”

Sam nodded briskly. He moved Bucky to a nearby armchair, easing him down with the care of a man who had done this before. “I’ll bring him right away. Please, just… try to hold on.”

Bucky’s eyes closed, his hand pressing harder against his temple. “Y/N?” he muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. “Is she—”

“Her Majesty is well, sir,” Sam assured him gently. “She is perfectly safe.”

Relief washed over Bucky’s face, easing some of the tension from his features. “Do not let her see me like this,” he whispered, his voice rough and strained. “She… she can’t see this.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Sam replied softly. “I’ll see to it.”

With one last, concerned glance, Sam turned and hurried out of the study, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he went to find Bruce.

Left alone, Bucky slumped back in the chair, his breathing uneven as he tried to regain control. The pain continued to pulse through his head, but he forced himself to focus, to keep his mind anchored to something—anything—other than the agony.

And all he could think of was you.

× × × ×

The candle flames flickered in the study of the Carter estate, shadows dancing along the richly paneled walls. Lord Carter stood before the grand fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the fire as it crackled and hissed. Sharon paced the length of the room behind him, the soft rustle of her silk gown the only sound breaking the silence.

“Her virtue,” Sharon spat, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Is that truly what they care about? Whether or not she’s pure enough to produce an heir?” She stopped pacing, whirling to face her father. Her blue eyes, so like his, burned with fury. “They should be more concerned with how unfit she is for the role. She’s weak—completely and utterly useless.”

Lord Carter didn’t turn, didn’t even flinch at her outburst. He simply stared into the fire, his expression cold, unreadable. “You will set aside your petty resentments, Sharon.”

She blinked, the unexpected harshness of his tone pulling her up short. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was low, but it carried an unmistakable edge, each word falling with the weight of command. “Your emotions are clouding your judgment.”

“My emotions?” Sharon let out a humorless laugh, but there was a note of disbelief in it, tinged with bitterness. “I’m the only one who sees her for what she is—a pretty little figurehead propped up beside him, with no real power. If you would only—”

“Enough.” Lord Carter’s voice was sharp, final, cutting through her words like a blade. He turned then, his gaze locking onto hers with a look that made her take an involuntary step back. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? How you’ve been conducting yourself?”

Sharon’s lips parted, but no sound came. She stared at her father, feeling the heat drain from her face as his gaze bore into hers.

“I see everything, Sharon. Every sideways glance, every whispered word of ‘concern’ for the queen’s image in front of the council.” He took a step toward her, his eyes dark with anger. “You’re so focused on tearing her down that you’ve forgotten the larger picture.”

“The larger picture?” Sharon echoed, her voice rising with indignation. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked! I’ve sown doubt, spread rumors—”

“Yes, and you’ve made a spectacle of yourself in the process,” Lord Carter snapped. “The other lords see your bitterness, your jealousy. They wonder if you’re motivated by politics or by personal vendetta.”

Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I’m not jealous.”

“Then start acting like it.” His tone softened just a fraction, but there was no kindness in it. “If you continue to act out of spite, it won’t be long before they dismiss you as a scorned woman and ignore you entirely.”

Sharon stiffened, the words landing like a slap. “Father—”

“You will listen to me.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “You will set aside your personal feelings toward her and start acting strategically. No more open hostility. No more scathing remarks.”

Her throat tightened, a flush of anger rising up within her. “And what am I supposed to do? Smile and play the obedient daughter?”

“No,” Lord Carter said slowly, his gaze piercing. “You will do something much more valuable.”

He turned his back on her and moved closer to the fire, watching the flames as if they held all the answers. “You will make sure she never produces an heir.”

Sharon blinked, confusion creasing her brow. “What? How am I supposed to—”

“Contraceptives,” he interrupted, his voice low and calm. “Subtle, untraceable. Something you’ll slip into her tea—every morning, every evening. She’ll never know.”

Her mouth dropped open again, shock flashing across her face. “You want me to poison her?”

“Not poison,” Lord Carter corrected, his gaze hardening. “Prevent. The council is growing impatient, and so is the king. All this talk of producing an heir has everyone on edge. If she remains barren, if there is no child… it’s only a matter of time before they turn on her. The king will have no choice but to seek a solution elsewhere.”

Sharon stared at her father, a mix of horror and awe flooding her chest. “You’re going to sabotage her chances of ever having a child.”

“Yes,” he said simply, the flames reflecting in his eyes like a promise of destruction. “And when the time comes, the council will demand he take a consort. Someone more capable. Someone who can give him what she cannot. . . and I will have you as a candidate.”

Sharon’s heart pounded, her mind racing as the full scope of his plan unfolded before her. “And if they find out—”

“They won’t,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “The contraceptives will be untraceable, with no lasting effects. And by the time anyone realizes what’s happened, it will be far too late. The damage will already be done.”

Sharon swallowed hard, her throat tight as she forced herself to nod. “And what do I do until then?”

“You remain discreet,” Lord Carter said, turning to face her fully now. “You keep to the background. No more rants, no more public displays of resentment. Let them think you’ve stepped back, that you’ve accepted your place.”

His gaze softened, just a fraction. “The queen trusts the palace servants—use that. When she’s distracted, add the contraceptives to her tea. Once it’s in her system, she’ll be unable to conceive, and the king will have no heir—you need to be consistent. . . otherwise it won’t work. And with every passing day, the council’s discontent will grow.”

Sharon nodded slowly, feeling the last traces of defiance melt away, replaced by cold determination. “I understand,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” He turned back to the fire, his voice distant and calm. “And remember, Sharon—this isn’t about you. This is about securing our family’s influence and power. Don’t let your emotions ruin it.”

She nodded again, throat tight as she turned on her heel and left the study, his words echoing in her ears like a dark mantra.

Slip the contraception into her tea. Make her unable to produce an heir. And when the queen finally falls, the Carters will be there to take their place at the center of the kingdom’s power.

As she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Sharon exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands over the front of her gown. She would do what needed to be done.

And when the queen finally fell, Sharon would be there to make sure she never got up again.

× × × ×

The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, heavy pants mingling with the low, needy moans that escaped your lips. The air was thick with heat, every whisper of movement, every shift of fabric, adding to the maddening tension that enveloped you both.

You clutched onto Bucky’s shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, using it as leverage as you rode him with a rhythm that left you trembling. The dress, though still draped around your frame, felt more like a cage now, the layers of fabric bunched up and tangled around your waist, trapping the heat between your bodies.

Bucky’s hands, strong and possessive, roamed over the curve of your buttocks, slipping beneath the folds of your gown, fingers kneading the soft flesh as he pulled you down against him, urging you to move faster, harder. The friction of his trousers against your bare thighs sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, and you gasped, your head falling back as you lost yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him filling you so completely.

“God, you feel…” Bucky’s voice was a rough rasp, his words breaking off into a groan as you shifted, the change in angle drawing a deep, guttural sound from his throat. His hands gripped you tighter, almost to the point of pain, but it only heightened the pleasure, the sensation of being utterly consumed by him. “So tight… so perfect… just like that, my queen.”

You moaned in response, the sound echoing in the quiet room, your body moving with a desperate, primal rhythm that matched the erratic beat of your heart. Each roll of your hips, each slide of your body against his, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building higher and higher with every pulse of heat, every brush of his skin against yours.

The feel of him inside you, hard and filling, drove you to the edge, your entire being attuned to the way his breath hitched, the way his grip on you tightened each time you moved. You could feel every ridge, every inch of him, stretching you, filling you, making you ache in the best possible way. The sensation of being so utterly full, so completely claimed, was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping for breath.

“James…” You whimpered his name, your voice a breathless plea, your nails raking down his chest as you arched against him, desperate for more, for everything he could give you. Your movements grew more erratic, more frenzied, each thrust of your hips meeting his in a clash of heat and desire that left you both trembling.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice low and rough, his gaze fixed on you with a possessive intensity that made your heart stutter. “Ride me like you were made for it… you’re taking me so perfectly. So beautiful.”

His words sent a surge of heat through you, your body tightening around him in response, drawing a strangled curse from his lips. He shifted beneath you, his hips bucking upwards to meet your movements, each powerful thrust driving you higher, the pleasure spiraling out of control.

“Please… don’t stop,” you panted, your voice breaking on a moan as he shifted again, his grip on your backside tightening as he pulled you down harder, his gaze never leaving your face. “Don’t… God, James…”

“I won’t,” he growled, his voice a dark promise, his eyes burning with a feral hunger that sent a shiver through you. “I won’t stop… not until I feel you shatter around me. Not until I’ve had you again… and again… until you can’t think of anything but this. But me.”

His words, the low, heated tone of his voice, sent you spiraling, your body tensing as the pleasure built to a dizzying crescendo. You could feel it coiling deep within you, an unstoppable force gathering strength, tightening, ready to snap.

Bucky’s grip shifted, one hand moving to your waist, the other sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you cried out, the pleasure crashing through you in relentless waves.

He swallowed your cries, his mouth devouring yours as he thrust up into you, each movement drawing out the sensation, prolonging the ecstasy until you were shaking, trembling in his arms.

“James!” You gasped his name, your entire body quaking as the pleasure crested, the intensity of it leaving you breathless, boneless, completely at his mercy.

And still, he didn’t stop. His hands continued to guide your movements, his hips driving up to meet yours in a relentless rhythm that left you gasping, your entire body thrumming with the aftershocks of your release. The feel of him inside you, still hot and hard and so very, very present, sent another shudder through you, and you whimpered, your head falling to his shoulder.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough and unsteady, his breath hot against your ear. “Taking everything I give you… aren’t you?”

“Yes, my king.” you breathed, your voice a broken moan, your body pliant, yielding to his every touch, his every word.

“Then take a little more,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips, holding you still as he thrust up into you one last time, his body going rigid beneath you as he found his own release, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat.

You felt him shudder against you, his body trembling as he buried himself deep, the sensation of him pulsing inside you sending another wave of heat coursing through your veins. He thrusted into you over and over until he was spent, having given you every ounce of come he had. And then, slowly, reluctantly, he relaxed, his grip on you loosening as he exhaled a shuddering breath.

The room was quiet once more, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the rapid thrum of your heart slowly easing as you clung to him, your body still quivering in the aftermath.

He kissed you again, slow and languid, savoring the taste of your mouth like a man starved. His tongue swept against yours, coaxing another soft moan from your lips. The kiss deepened, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t bear to let you go, like he needed to drown in you just a little longer.

But just as his lips found that tender spot at the corner of your mouth—

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

You froze, your breath hitching as the sound cut through the haze of desire that still clung to you both. Bucky stiffened beneath you, his gaze snapping to the door, frustration flashing across his face.

“Not now,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He turned back to you, his eyes blazing with the need to continue what had been so rudely interrupted. His fingers tightened on your waist, drawing you closer as if to shield you from the intrusion.

“Your Majesty—” came a hesitant voice from the other side of the door.

“Go. Away.” Bucky bit out, his teeth clenched. He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his grip on you remained.

But the voice persisted. “It’s urgent.”

With a deep, frustrated sigh, Bucky forced himself to pull away, his lips brushing against your forehead one last time before he moved to stand. He reached for his trousers, yanking them up with an annoyed huff, the fabric whispering as he buttoned them hastily. He tucked his shirt back in, smoothing out the wrinkles with brisk, jerky movements. His fingers worked quickly to adjust the waistband, every action brimming with irritation.

You watched, your pulse still pounding in your ears, as he deftly fastened his belt, the clink of metal ringing sharply in the quiet room. His jaw was set, his brow furrowed in concentration as he straightened his attire, each movement sharp and precise, trying to regain control over himself.

Bucky ran a hand through his tousled hair, pushing the disheveled strands back in place, then tugged at his shirt collar, tucking it in properly with a final flick of his fingers.

The urge to reach out and pull him back to you was overwhelming, but you forced yourself to stay still, your eyes tracing the rigid line of his shoulders as he turned toward the door.

“Come in,” he barked, his tone sharp and impatient.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Sam, his expression caught somewhere between anxious and apologetic. His eyes darted briefly to you, taking in your flushed cheeks and Bucky’s still-wrathful demeanor before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Your Majesty,” Sam began, his voice careful, “forgive the intrusion, but… there’s an issue that needs your attention immediately.”

Bucky’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he fought to rein in his irritation. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, smoothing out the fabric one last time. “And it couldn’t wait?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably, swallowing hard. “No, sir. It’s—well, the council is in an uproar. They’re demanding to speak with you. It’s about the queen.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you glanced up at Bucky, your fingers tightening instinctively around the edge of your gown. He turned to you, his expression softening ever so slightly as he took a step forward, his fingers brushing gently against yours.

“I’ll handle it,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Stay here, Y/N. I won’t be long.”

You nodded, though the worry gnawing at your chest refused to ease. Bucky’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned away, his posture tense, his expression shuttered. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort to remain composed.

“Let’s go,” he muttered to Sam, his voice low and dangerous. He cast one last glance back at you before striding purposefully toward the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing through the room like a finality.

And as the silence settled once more, you exhaled slowly, your mind swirling with unease. Because whatever awaited Bucky out there, you knew it was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

× × × ×

Bucky strode through the double doors, the faint murmur of his boots against the polished marble the only sound breaking the oppressive stillness. All eyes turned to him, a mix of wariness and expectation filling the room.

Prime Minister Fury cleared his throat, stepping forward with a respectful bow. “Your Majesty, we thank you for joining us so swiftly.”

Bucky’s gaze swept over the gathered lords, his expression cold and unyielding. He took his place at the head of the long table, eyes narrowed as he regarded each council member in turn.

“Why have I been summoned?” His tone was clipped, betraying the simmering irritation beneath his composed exterior.

Lord Haynesworth, always eager to play the voice of reason, leaned forward. “Your Majesty, there have been… troubling whispers circulating the court.” He glanced at the other lords for support before continuing cautiously. “Whispers regarding the queen and Captain Rogers.”

“Whispers?” Bucky’s voice was low, dangerous. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze sharpened. “What kind of whispers?”

A murmur of unease rippled through the room, the lords exchanging wary glances. Finally, Lord Pierce spoke up, his voice carefully measured. “There are rumors that the captain’s… interest in the queen is more than that of a mere guard.”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Bucky’s eyes darkened, the air around him seeming to crackle with barely restrained fury. “And what proof do you have to support these allegations?” he asked softly, his voice a lethal whisper.

The lords hesitated, each one glancing at the others, clearly caught off guard by the question.

“There is no… direct evidence, Your Majesty,” Prime Minister Fury admitted reluctantly, his gaze faltering. “But the captain’s presence around the queen—”

“Presence?” Bucky cut in sharply, his voice rising. “His presence is at my command. I ordered him to stay by her side. So I ask again—what evidence do you have that my orders have been misconstrued?”

Silence met his words. The lords shifted uneasily, the tension in the room thickening as Bucky’s gaze bore into each of them.

“Nothing?” Bucky’s voice was deceptively soft, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “You summoned me here based on nothing more than baseless gossip?”

“Your Majesty,” Lord Carter ventured cautiously, his voice smooth and conciliatory. “The concern is not just the rumors themselves, but the impact they may have on the queen’s reputation, and by extension, the Crown. If the people begin to believe—”

“Believe what?” Bucky snapped, his voice cracking like a whip through the chamber. “That the queen is a woman of loose morals? That she would dishonor me and this crown with one of my most trusted men? The mere suggestion is an insult not only to her but to me as well.”

The lords exchanged anxious glances, the king’s rage palpable in the air.

“Your Majesty, we meant no disrespect,” Lord Haynesworth said quickly, his tone placating. “But these rumors—”

“Are a disgrace,” Bucky finished coldly, his gaze turning to steel. “And I want to know who started them.”

The council stilled, shock rippling through the room.

“Find the source of these whispers,” Bucky ordered, his voice firm and unyielding. “And when you do, bring them to me. Whoever has dared to spread lies about my wife and Captain Rogers will face the full weight of the Crown’s wrath.”

“Your Majesty,” Prime Minister Fury interjected cautiously, his gaze flickering with unease. “Surely we can handle this matter discreetly. There’s no need to—”

“Do you think I am playing, Prime Minister?” Bucky’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper, his gaze icy. “I want them found. And I want everyone to know what happens when they seek to undermine my authority with petty gossip. I will not tolerate anyone questioning my wife’s honor.”

A tense silence fell over the room, the council members exchanging wary looks.

“Is that understood?” Bucky demanded, his gaze sweeping over the assembled lords.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they murmured in unison, heads bowing in reluctant acquiescence.

“Good.” Bucky straightened, his expression hard. “And one more thing.”

The lords held their breath, waiting.

“Any man caught speaking against the queen without proof—any man—will find himself stripped of title and position. Do I make myself clear?”

The lords exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions taut with apprehension. But they knew better than to argue.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they echoed again, the words heavy with resignation.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, his expression a mask of cold fury. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the doors, his cloak billowing behind him.

Just as he reached the threshold, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“And if any of you doubt my resolve,” he said softly, his voice like ice, “remember this moment. Because it will be the last time I allow such disrespect to go unpunished.”

The silence that followed Bucky’s last, chilling words was thick, oppressive. It hung in the air like a noose, tightening around the lords as they exchanged uneasy glances, knowing they had overstepped, but uncertain how to make amends.

Just as Bucky turned back toward the door, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the far end of the room, the sound startling in its suddenness. Heads whipped around, eyes widening as they spotted the figure lounging in the shadows.

A man stepped forward, his movements unhurried, his posture casual yet carrying an undeniable authority. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and a smirk curved his lips—a smirk that spoke of mischief and danger in equal measure. He moved with a feline grace, each step deliberate, as if he were completely unfazed by the tension gripping the room.

“Brother,” he drawled, his voice rich with amusement as his eyes—glinting with an almost feral light—fixed on Bucky. “Now that was a performance worth every second.”

Bucky’s gaze hardened as he turned to face the newcomer fully. “Isaac,” he acknowledged curtly, his voice devoid of warmth. “What are you doing here?”

Prince Ikarus, or Isaac as he likes to be called was Bucky’s younger twin brother—known to the court as a wild card, a force of nature as unpredictable as a storm—tilted his head, his smile widening as he glanced at the assembled lords, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“I was just passing through,” he said lazily, his gaze sweeping over the noblemen, who stiffened under his scrutiny. “And I couldn’t help but overhear this… charming little gathering.”

He stopped a few feet away from Bucky, his smile fading slightly as he took in his brother’s tense stance, the barely restrained fury simmering beneath the surface.

“You looked like you could use a bit of… support,” he added, his voice softening—just a fraction, but enough for Bucky to notice the hint of concern hidden beneath the teasing façade.

The lords shifted uneasily, clearly unsettled by Prince Isaac’s sudden appearance. His reputation as a man who thrived on chaos, who delighted in pushing boundaries, was well known. And now, faced with both brothers—one an unyielding king, the other a dangerous enigma—they found themselves caught between the hammer and the anvil.

“Support?” Bucky repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of support, exactly?”

Isaac’s grin returned, sharp and gleaming as a blade. “Oh, you know, just a little reminder of what happens to those who speak out of turn.” He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting lazily over the lords before settling back on Bucky. “For instance, I hear the scold’s bridle is quite effective at silencing loose tongues.”

A ripple of shock ran through the room, several lords exchanging horrified glances. The scold’s bridle—a cruel, medieval punishment used to silence women accused of gossiping or speaking out—hadn’t been mentioned in court for centuries. The very suggestion of bringing it back was enough to send a chill down the spines of even the most hardened noblemen.

“Prince Isaac,” Lord Pierce began hesitantly, his voice strained. “Surely you jest—”

“Do I?” Isaac interrupted smoothly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Because I’m not entirely sure I do, Lord Pierce. The idea of seeing a few of you donning that particular accessory…” He trailed off, his smile turning almost feral. “Well, it does have a certain appeal.”

“Enough, Isaac,” Bucky said sharply, his gaze never leaving his brother’s. “We are not bringing back barbaric punishments to deal with petty gossip.”

Isaac’s eyes flicked back to Bucky, his smile fading into something more serious, more thoughtful. “Oh, but this is no ordinary gossip, is it?” he murmured softly. “They’re questioning your authority. Your marriage. Your wife’s honor. I would think that calls for a rather… memorable response.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he held his brother’s gaze. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them.

Then, slowly, Bucky’s lips curved into a smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I appreciate your… enthusiasm, brother,” he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of warning. “But I am perfectly capable of handling this matter.”

Isaac studied him for a long moment, his gaze searching. Then, with a slight shrug, he stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, the smile never leaving his lips. “I’m merely here to… observe.”

Bucky’s gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat longer before he turned back to the lords, his expression hardening once more.

“Find the source,” he ordered coldly, his voice carrying the weight of an unbreakable command. “And if I hear one more word—one more whisper—about my wife, or Captain Rogers, or anything else that questions my authority…”

He glanced back at Isaac, his gaze turning icy. “I may not bring back the scold’s bridle, but rest assured—there are other ways to silence a tongue.”

The threat hung in the air, chilling and unmistakable. The lords nodded hurriedly, their faces pale, and the chamber fell into a tense, uneasy silence.

Satisfied, Bucky turned and strode out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him. Isaac watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.

As the doors closed behind the king, the lords finally released the breaths they hadn’t realized they’d been holding.

Lord Haynesworth swallowed hard, his gaze darting nervously to Isaac. “Your Highness, you… you can’t be serious about the scold’s bridle, can you?”

Isaac’s smile was slow, almost lazy, as he turned his gaze to the trembling lord. “Oh, I never joke about punishment, Lord Haynesworth.”

The lords exchanged wary glances, clearly unsure of how to respond. But Isaac’s gaze had already drifted away, his mind elsewhere, as if the conversation had already ceased to interest him.

“Let us hope,” he murmured softly, almost to himself, “that no one is foolish enough to test the king’s patience further.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and strolled out of the chamber, leaving the lords staring after him, their minds racing with fear and uncertainty.

Because one thing was clear: whether it was Bucky’s iron fist or Isaac’s unpredictable cruelty, those who sought to undermine the Crown would soon learn that the Barnes brothers were not to be trifled with.

As the heavy doors closed behind the Barnes brothers, the lords exchanged uneasy glances, the atmosphere thick with barely restrained tension. The king’s fury had shaken them, but the presence of Prince Isaac—his dark humor and thinly veiled threats—had left them truly unsettled.

Lord Haynesworth was the first to speak, his voice tight with anxiety. “By God, the king truly lost his temper this time.”

“We should have expected as much,” Lord Pierce murmured, shaking his head slowly. “The king has always been fiercely protective of those he cares about.”

Lord Carter leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Yes… but it seems the queen is more valuable to him than we anticipated.”

“Valuable?” Lord Stark interjected, his gaze sharp as he regarded Lord Carter with open suspicion. “The queen is not some pawn to be valued and assessed. She is the king’s wife—and more importantly, she’s been a steady hand in the chaos we’ve created.”

Lord Thor nodded firmly beside Stark, his broad frame leaning forward, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the table. “Stark is right. She is proving herself capable, and that is what matters. And as for Captain Rogers—” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around the table— “he’s done nothing to warrant these accusations.”

“Of course, Lord Thor,” Lord Carter agreed smoothly, his expression deceptively innocent. “But perception is everything, is it not? The court’s perception, the people’s perception—these things shape the strength of the Crown.”

“Perception is shaped by those who whisper in the shadows, spreading lies and stoking fears,” Lord Romanoff interjected coolly, his gaze locking onto Carter. “I wonder who benefits most from such whispers?”

“Indeed,” Lord Stark added, his voice like a blade. “Who stands to gain from undermining the queen’s position?”

The room fell silent, all eyes on Lord Carter, who merely smiled, a picture of calm amidst the storm. “Gentlemen, I assure you, I have nothing but the stability of the Crown in mind.”

“And yet, you seem quite at ease stirring the pot,” Lord Loki murmured, his voice a low purr as he leaned back, his gaze shrewd. “One might almost suspect you enjoy watching it boil over.”

A ripple of tension passed through the room, but Lord Carter merely shrugged, his smile unwavering. “I am only concerned with ensuring that the Crown is safeguarded against any… potential vulnerabilities.”

“And what vulnerabilities might those be?” Thor demanded, his tone dangerously low. “If you have evidence to support these accusations, speak it now. If not, then perhaps it’s time we stopped entertaining idle speculation.”

Lord Carter’s gaze flicked to Thor, the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes. “If the king himself is ordering an investigation, who am I to contradict him?”

“You’re a man who clearly wants to see how far he can push his influence,” Lord Stark retorted sharply. “But I’ll tell you this, Carter: I’ll not stand by while you tear down everything we’ve fought to build. And that includes our support of the queen.”

“Is that so?” Lord Pierce murmured, his gaze flicking to the others. “Are we all agreed, then, that we trust the queen’s intentions and see no fault in the captain’s presence?”

There was a murmur of assent from Thor, Loki, Stark, and Romanoff, their loyalty to Bucky and his chosen allies clear.

But the hesitation from the other lords was palpable, their eyes darting nervously to one another before settling back on Carter, whose smile widened ever so slightly.

“Loyalty is admirable,” Carter said softly, his voice smooth as silk. “But loyalty, when misplaced, can be… dangerous.”

A chill swept through the room, the lords shifting uneasily as they digested his words.

“Enough of this,” Fury interjected firmly, his voice cutting through the rising tension like a knife. “The king’s orders are clear. We are to find the source of these rumors and ensure that this matter is put to rest once and for all.”

“Agreed,” Lord Pierce said quietly, his gaze thoughtful. “But let us not forget what Lord Carter said earlier. The king’s loyalty can be a double-edged sword. If we push too hard… we risk losing his favor.”

“Or perhaps,” Loki interjected softly, his gaze lingering on Carter, “we simply risk revealing who truly holds sway over his decisions.”

Carter’s eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous, but his smile remained intact. “You seem rather… invested in this, Lord Loki.”

“Only in seeing justice done,” Loki replied smoothly. “And ensuring that no one with ulterior motives takes advantage of a situation already fraught with tension.”

“Ulterior motives?” Lord Haynesworth echoed uneasily, glancing between Carter and the other lords.

“Yes, ulterior motives,” Lord Stark cut in, his gaze never leaving Carter’s. “The only question is, whose motives are they?”

Carter’s smile finally faded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Careful, Stark. You wouldn’t want to find yourself on the wrong side of this conversation.”

“Is that a threat?” Tony asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

Carter’s smile returned, colder this time. “A warning. To all of us. Because if the king is willing to defend the queen so fiercely now, just imagine what he’ll do if he thinks we’re working against her.”

Thor’s fist slammed onto the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber. “Enough! We’re here to protect the Crown, not tear each other apart. This is exactly what those spreading rumors want—discord, infighting. I will not be party to it.”

A murmur of agreement followed his words, the tension easing just slightly as the lords shifted, reassessing.

“We will follow the king’s orders,” Fury said firmly. “But we do so with caution. We need to keep our eyes open—for every possible outcome.”

“And for every possible enemy,” Loki added quietly, his gaze still fixed on Carter.

The room fell silent once more, each man lost in his own thoughts, the weight of unspoken suspicions and half-formed alliances pressing down like a heavy shroud.

And as the lords finally began to file out, exchanging wary glances, one thing was clear: the battle for influence over the king—and the queen—was far from over.

× × × ×

Bucky stood at the head of a private chamber adjacent to the grand council room, the heavy wooden doors sealing him away from the prying eyes of his advisors. The room was lit up by a single chandelier overhead, his gaze was fixed on a map spread out on the table before him, but his mind was far from the ink and paper. He wasn’t brooding—no, brooding suggested indecision, and he couldn’t afford that luxury.

Isaac lounged against the far wall, his usual air of nonchalance nowhere to be seen. He’d been silent for some time now, eyes trained on his brother with a sharpness that few ever glimpsed beneath his playful facade.

“You knew,” Isaac said quietly, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a question, but a statement—a challenge even. “You knew it would come to this.”

Bucky’s lips twitched in the semblance of a bitter smile. “Of course, I did.” He glanced up, meeting Isaac’s gaze with a calm, unflinching stare. “The moment we stood in front of the council with no heir to speak of, I knew there’d be whispers. That’s why I ordered Steve to stay close to Y/N.”

He shifted his weight slightly, fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the table as he continued. “I wanted to see who would be the first to take those whispers and turn them into weapons. And I wanted them to feel confident enough to move. That’s the only way to draw them out.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed, his lips curving into a slow smile. “So you’ve been using Captain Rogers as bait?” His voice carried a hint of admiration, laced with a trace of something darker. “You’re more ruthless than I thought, brother.”

Bucky shrugged, his expression hardening. “I needed to know who would dare. And I know they’re out there.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow, intrigue sparking in his eyes. “Who?”

Bucky glanced down at the map, his gaze sweeping over the names marked along the edges. Each one belonged to a noble house, a prominent family in the realm—a member of his council. Men who wielded power not just through their titles, but through their influence, their alliances.

“Whoever they are,” Bucky murmured, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, “they’re part of the council. I’ve seen the way they exchange glances, the careful way they speak around me—like they’re testing the waters, seeing how far they can push.”

He leaned over the table, his fingers brushing over the marked names—each one a potential traitor, a possible conspirator. “But I don’t know who yet. Not for certain.”

Isaac’s grin widened, a hint of excitement glinting in his eyes. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Let them think they’re gaining ground,” Bucky said softly, his gaze darkening. “Let them believe I’m too distracted, too burdened by the pressure of producing an heir to notice their scheming. They’ll grow bolder, make mistakes.”

Isaac tilted his head, studying his brother with newfound respect. “And when they do?”

Bucky’s eyes sharpened, his voice hardening with resolve. “I’ll be there to catch them. All of them.”

Isaac’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming. “So, what’s my role in this little drama?”

Bucky regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “You’re going to dig deeper—under the table. Quietly. Find out who’s speaking to whom, what promises are being made, and to whom. Leave no stone unturned, no matter how small.”

Isaac straightened, a gleam of something dangerous sparking in his gaze. “And when I do?”

Bucky’s expression didn’t waver. “We’ll tighten the noose around their necks. But only when I’m ready.”

A silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. Isaac nodded slowly, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward the door.

“I like it,” he murmured, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his lips. “But you know I’ll have to get creative. This sort of under-the-table investigation doesn’t lend itself well to… conventional methods.”

“I don’t care how you do it,” Bucky said evenly, his voice carrying a weight that brooked no argument. “Just make sure no one traces it back to us.”

Isaac inclined his head, his smile widening. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

He turned to leave, but paused just as he reached the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “You know… I haven’t met the queen yet,” he said casually, the statement laced with an edge of mischief. “Does she even know I exist?”

Bucky’s gaze hardened, his voice low and firm. “You’ll meet her when the time is right, Isaac. Until then… stay focused.”

Isaac’s eyes glinted with something unreadable, but he merely nodded, pushing the door open and stepping out into the corridor beyond.

As the door closed behind him, Bucky exhaled slowly, his shoulders straightening as he turned back to the map on the table.

But Isaac’s question still hung in the air, and Bucky glanced back at the closed door, his thoughts spinning.

He didn’t know who the traitors were yet. But he could feel them circling like vultures, waiting for him to falter, to stumble. They were careful—too careful. And that caution was telling. Only men who feared exposure behaved so cautiously.

Bucky’s fingers tapped against the table, his gaze narrowing. “It’s not just one,” he muttered to himself, his voice low, a dark edge lacing each word. “It’s a group.”

He let out a slow breath, his gaze sweeping over the council’s names once more.

“They’re part of the council,” he murmured, a humorless smile curving his lips. “Hidden among the men I’m supposed to trust.”

But trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Not now. Not until he knew exactly who was behind the shadows cast over his reign.

Straightening, Bucky turned away from the map, his expression hardening once more. “Let them think they’re winning,” he murmured softly, his gaze distant and calculating. “Because when the hammer falls… it’ll fall hard.”

He glanced back at the door one last time, his expression resolute. He would not be a weak king. He would not be a pawn in his own court.

He was the King of this realm. And he would crush anyone who dared to forget it.

× × × ×

Next day.

The late afternoon sunlight streams through the tall windows of the palace drawing room, casting a soft, warm glow over the intricately decorated space. You sit near the hearth, your attention shifting between Wanda, who speaks animatedly, and Nat, who lounges back in her chair, a faint smile playing on her lips as she listens.

Pepper moves gracefully around the room, setting out a fresh tray of delicate pastries and refilling teacups. Laughter bubbles softly as Wanda recounts a recent diplomatic visit.

“—and you should have seen his face when I suggested the princess of Cerion join us for the ball,” Wanda says with a sly grin. “He looked as though I’d asked him to dance with a bear!”

Nat chuckles, shaking her head. “The princess or the bear would be equally entertaining. Can’t say I’d blame him either way.”

You feel a smile tug at your lips, warmth flooding your gaze as you glance at Pepper, who rolls her eyes with an affectionate sigh. “Really, Wanda. You shouldn’t be toying with poor Lord Bateman like that. You’ll give him a heart attack.”

“Serves him right for underestimating us,” Wanda replies with a mock huff. “Maybe next time he’ll think twice before making such… colorful remarks about the queen.”

Your smile falters for just a fraction of a second, but Nat notices. She leans forward, resting a hand gently on your arm. “He’s just a pompous idiot. His words mean nothing.”

You nod, grateful for her support, but before you can respond, the grand double doors to the drawing room swing open, and Sharon Carter steps inside.

Conversation stills instantly, the soft laughter fading as all eyes turn toward her. She stands framed in the doorway, her expression carefully composed but tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place. She hesitates just long enough to be noticeable before taking a deep breath and stepping forward, closing the door softly behind her.

“Your Majesty,” Sharon greets quietly, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. She glances at the other women, nodding respectfully. “Wanda, Natasha… Lady Potts.”

“Sharon,” Wanda replies, a brow arching ever so slightly as she leans back in her chair. “What brings you here?” Her voice is light, but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath the politeness.

You straighten slightly, exchanging a glance with Nat, who gives a subtle nod, as if to say Let’s hear what she has to say. With a cautious smile, you gesture to one of the empty chairs. “You’re welcome to join us, Sharon. Is something on your mind?”

Sharon swallows, her fingers twisting together in a gesture that almost looks like nervousness. She steps further into the room but keeps her distance, her gaze focused on you.

“I wanted to speak with you, Your Majesty. To apologize,” Sharon says, her voice steady but quiet. “For the way I’ve behaved in the past.”

Wanda and Nat exchange quick, skeptical glances, while Pepper’s hand pauses over the teapot, her gaze flicking to Sharon with measured curiosity.

“Apologize?” Pepper echoes softly, setting the teapot down with a gentle clink. “That’s… unexpected.”

Sharon nods, taking another step closer, though still keeping a respectful distance. “Yes. I know my actions and words have been… less than kind.” She pauses, eyes dropping to the floor as if gathering her thoughts. “I’ve let my emotions get the better of me, and I’ve judged you unfairly, Your Majesty. I’ve spoken out of turn, assumed the worst, and for that… I am truly sorry.”

You blink, surprise flickering across your face. You’ve heard countless apologies in your time at court—some genuine, others dripping with false sincerity. But there’s something in Sharon’s tone, in the way her voice almost trembles, that gives you pause.

“People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt or frustrated,” you reply carefully, your voice measured. “But what brought this on, Sharon? Why now?”

Sharon swallows again, glancing up with eyes that seem brighter than usual. “I… I’ve had time to reflect on my actions. To see the impact my words have had—not just on you, but on everyone in the court. I let my emotions guide me because… because I was angry and felt overlooked. I thought I had a right to be resentful, but…” She shakes her head, gaze dropping again. “I see now that I was wrong. I was unfair.”

Wanda’s eyes narrow, her fingers drumming lightly on the arm of her chair. “And you expect us to believe this sudden change of heart?”

“No,” Sharon says quickly, looking up again, her expression earnest. “I don’t expect you to believe me—not right away. But I want to try to make amends, to show that I’m sincere.”

You exchange a glance with Nat, then Pepper, who gives a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Your gaze softens as you turn back to Sharon. “What is it that you’re asking for, then?”

Sharon hesitates, then takes a step forward, dropping into a graceful curtsy. “I’m asking for the chance to help. To be of service in whatever way I can. I know I’ve been… difficult to work with, but I want to change that. I want to prove that I can be an asset to you, Your Majesty.”

Nat scoffs softly, crossing her arms over her chest. “And how exactly do you plan to do that, Sharon?”

Sharon glances at her, then back at you. “I’ve been at the palace more often, observing how things work, learning the routines. I thought… I could help with some of the smaller tasks. Things that don’t require much trust—yet.”

“Tasks like?” Pepper prods gently, her gaze never leaving Sharon’s face.

Sharon bites her lip, looking almost sheepish. “Like assisting with the morning tea service, helping with correspondence, perhaps just until Lady Rambeau gets back from her leave?”

Pepper’s brow furrows slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes. “You want to help… with tea?”

Sharon nods earnestly. “Yes, anything that would let me be useful, even in a small way. I just want to prove that I can change. That I can be someone worthy of serving you, Your Majesty.”

The silence that follows is heavy, tense. You can feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. You study Sharon’s face, searching for any hint of deception, any trace of the bitterness that had so often colored your interactions.

But Sharon’s gaze is steady, her expression open and… vulnerable.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh, a small, tentative smile tugging at your lips. “Very well, Sharon. I’ll give you the chance to prove yourself.”

Wanda and Nat both shoot you incredulous looks, but you hold up a hand, silencing them. “Everyone deserves a chance to change. And if Sharon is sincere, then I’m willing to see where this goes.”

Sharon’s shoulders sag with visible relief, and she nods gratefully. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I won’t let you down.”

“Start by joining us for tea,” you suggest, gesturing to the table. “We can discuss more about how you’d like to help.”

Sharon hesitates, glancing around at the women, then nods and moves forward. Wanda and Nat’s eyes follow her every move, but Pepper, ever the gracious hostess, hands her a cup of tea with a small smile.

“Thank you,” Sharon murmurs, her fingers trembling slightly as she accepts the cup. She looks up at you, a tentative smile on her lips. “This means a lot to me.”

“I hope you’ll make the most of it,” you reply softly, though there’s a note of caution in your voice. “We all want what’s best for the kingdom.”

Sharon nods fervently, lowering her gaze as she sips from the cup, the picture of humility and contrition.

And as the conversation resumes around her, she glances down at the tray of tea—her eyes lingering on your cup—before quickly looking away, a satisfied smile ghosting across her lips.

The first step has been taken. And you will never see what’s coming.

× × × ×

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension lingering from Sharon’s unexpected visit. Her apology had sounded genuine—almost too genuine—and now it’s left you more conflicted than ever.

As you turn to head toward your chambers, soft but purposeful footsteps echo behind you.

“Queen Y/N,” Natasha calls quietly.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as she approaches with that guarded expression she often wears when something’s weighing on her mind. Before you can even ask, she gently places a hand on your arm and steers you toward a small alcove, away from the passing servants and prying eyes.

“Nat?” you murmur, a hint of concern threading through your voice. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering right away, Natasha’s gaze sweeps the corridor, ensuring the two of you are truly alone. When she finally meets your eyes again, there’s a seriousness there that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Listen to me,” she begins softly, her voice low and calm, but carrying the weight of an unspoken warning. “About Sharon’s apology today… don’t let it sway you too much.”

The words land like a stone in your chest. You blink at her, trying to push back the confusion—and the small flicker of hurt. “You don’t think she was being sincere?”

Natasha shakes her head slowly, her grip tightening ever so slightly on your arm. “It’s not about sincerity. Sharon may very well believe everything she said. But even sincere apologies can hide other motives.”

A deep sigh escapes you, and you lean back against the wall, letting the cool stone steady you. “Then what am I supposed to do? She’s already offered to help with small tasks. Turning her away now would seem—”

“No, don’t turn her away,” Natasha interrupts, her gaze softening just a fraction. “Let her help, let her do exactly what she’s offered. But don’t give her more than that. Don’t give her information she could use—anything you wouldn’t want to become court gossip or twisted into something else.”

You close your eyes briefly, trying to reconcile what you know about Sharon with what Nat’s saying. “She looked so sincere, Nat. For the first time, it felt like maybe—”

“Like maybe you could have a friend in her?” Natasha finishes gently, her tone understanding. She takes a step closer, her voice dropping even lower. “I understand, my queen. You want to believe the best in people. You want to give them chances. That’s what makes you… you. But you have to be careful. Just because someone’s smile looks real doesn’t mean their intentions are.”

“But what if she’s telling the truth?” you ask softly, meeting Nat’s steady gaze. “What if she’s genuinely trying to make amends?”

Natasha’s lips curve into a faint, almost sad smile. “Then she’ll prove it, over time. But don’t give her your trust all at once. Make her earn it, piece by piece.”

You swallow, nodding slowly, but the doubt lingers. “Do you think she would really try to… to hurt me? Even now?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate. “I think people are capable of doing a lot worse than we think when they’re desperate.” She reaches out, lifting your chin gently until your eyes meet hers. “I’m not saying she’s dangerous. I’m saying she’s unpredictable. And that’s enough of a reason to be wary.”

You nod again, this time more firmly. “I understand. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” Nat’s fingers brush lightly against your arm before she steps back. “And remember—you’re not alone. We’re watching her too. So just… be smart. Guard your words around her.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips despite the heaviness in your chest. “Thank you, Nat.”

She nods, a hint of warmth breaking through her stoic expression. “Anytime. Now, get some rest. You need to be sharp for tomorrow.”

As she turns to leave, you watch her retreating figure, the worry etched in her posture speaking volumes. With a sigh, you lean back against the wall, letting your head fall back as you stare at the ceiling.

You want to believe Sharon. You want to believe in second chances. But Nat’s words echo in your mind like a warning bell.

“People are capable of doing a lot worse when they’re desperate.”

Slowly, you push off the wall and head toward your chambers, Natasha’s parting words circling in your thoughts.

Genuine doesn’t always mean safe.

When you finally reach your door, you hesitate, casting one last look down the empty hallway. Your fingers curl around the handle, and you take a deep breath.

You’ll let Sharon prove herself. But you’ll do it on your terms—step by cautious step.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the palace, it’s that trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered and dangerous to wield.

And you’re not about to risk everything on someone who may still be hiding a knife behind her back.

× × × ×

It was late—far too late for visitors. But a soft knock at the door drew your attention, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Who is it?” you called gently, setting aside the book you’d been attempting to read, the words blurring together in your tired mind.

“It’s Sharon, Your Majesty,” came the reply from the other side. Her voice was soft, tentative, carrying a note of uncertainty.

You hesitated only for a heartbeat before responding, “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Sharon stepped inside, a silver tray balanced perfectly in her hands. The fragrant scent of roses and chamomile filled the air, the delicate aroma wrapping around you like a soothing embrace. She offered you a soft smile as she approached.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, bowing her head slightly. “I thought you might appreciate something soothing to help you relax before bed. It’s a new blend I had prepared, meant to ease tension.”

Your eyes flicked to the elegant porcelain teapot and matching cups on the tray. A small smile tugged at your lips despite the lingering exhaustion. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Sharon. You didn’t have to go out of your way.”

Sharon’s smile widened just a fraction, her gaze lowering almost shyly. “It’s no trouble at all, Your Majesty. After everything you’ve done for me—giving me a chance to prove myself—I wanted to offer a small gesture of my gratitude.”

You nodded, the sincerity in her voice wrapping around you like the warmth of the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “Thank you, Sharon. But if I’m to enjoy such a thoughtful gesture, I’d like you to join me. It’s late—no reason for either of us to drink alone.”

Sharon blinked, a flash of surprise crossing her face before she schooled her features back into that calm, deferential smile. “Oh, no, Your Majesty, I couldn’t possibly intrude—”

“Please,” you interrupted softly, gesturing to the empty seat across from you. “I insist. I would be more at ease if you joined me.”

She hesitated for a heartbeat, the slightest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. But then she nodded slowly, lowering herself gracefully into the chair opposite you. “Of course, Your Majesty. If it would make you more comfortable.”

Sharon set the tray down on the small table beside you, lifting the teapot and carefully pouring your tea. The pale golden liquid shimmered in the low light, steam curling up to mingle with the scent of fresh flowers.

You accepted the cup she handed you, holding it delicately between your fingers. “Thank you,” you murmured, inhaling the calming aroma. “It smells wonderful.”

Sharon smiled, her eyes watching you closely. “It’s a special blend—rose petals, chamomile, and a hint of mint. All meant to soothe and relax.”

You glanced at the cup in her hand, then back at your own. “It sounds lovely. Why don’t you pour yourself a cup too?”

The words were casual, almost lighthearted, but the look in your eyes was steady, unwavering. Sharon’s smile tightened just a fraction, and for the briefest moment, her gaze flickered—almost as if she were weighing her options. She poured herself a cup and she nodded, lifting the cup to her lips. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

You watched carefully as she took a sip. Her movements were smooth, no hesitation, no sign of discomfort. When she set the cup down, she smiled, the expression soft and genuine.

“It’s delicious,” she murmured, her tone light. “I’m sure you’ll find it very soothing, Your Majesty.”

Relief washed over you, and you allowed yourself to relax, lifting your own cup to your lips. The first sip was everything Sharon had promised—light, floral, with a subtle sweetness that lingered on your tongue. The warmth spread through you like a gentle wave, easing the tension from your shoulders.

You smiled, setting the cup back down. “It really is lovely. Thank you, Sharon.”

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded eagerly. “I’m so glad you like it, Your Majesty. You seemed so tense earlier—I thought this might help.”

For a few moments, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the tea’s calming effects wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Each sip seemed to pull you further into a state of ease, your lingering worries melting away.

But then Sharon shifted slightly, her gaze dropping to the cup in her hand. “Your Majesty,” she began softly, lowering her voice. “I wanted to apologize… again. For everything.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Sharon, you’ve already—”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, her eyes lifting to meet yours. There was an earnestness in her gaze, “But I want you to know that I mean it. Truly. I was wrong to speak against you, to doubt your strength. You’ve shown more grace and patience than I could ever deserve.”

The words were spoken softly, her voice laced with emotion. And as you looked at her—really looked at her—you couldn’t help but feel a small pang of sympathy.

“Sharon, we all make mistakes,” you murmured, your voice gentle. “What matters is what we do to make amends. And you’ve been making a genuine effort.”

A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she ducked her head, smiling shyly. “Thank you, Your Majesty. That means more to me than you know.”

You nodded, taking another sip of the tea. The warmth continued to spread through you, a sense of lightness settling in your chest. It was comforting. Reassuring. And yet…

Something tugged at the back of your mind, a tiny voice urging you to look closer. But you pushed it away, reminding yourself that trust needed to start somewhere.

“I’m glad we can put the past behind us,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of finality.

“Yes,” Sharon agreed, her gaze lingering on your face. “And I promise, I’ll continue to prove myself worthy of your trust.”

You offered her a warm smile, leaning back in your chair as you took another long sip of the tea. “I appreciate that, Sharon. I truly do.”

Sharon’s smile widened as she lifted her own cup, taking a delicate sip. You watched, waiting for any hint of hesitation, any sign that something might be amiss. But she continued to drink, her expression remaining calm and serene.

The two of you continued to talk, your words coming slower now, your thoughts softening at the edges. The tea’s warmth wrapped around you like a cocoon, soothing every frayed nerve, every lingering worry.

You chatted for a while longer, until the cups were nearly empty and the candles burned lower. By then, any lingering doubt had melted away, replaced by the comforting haze of peace the tea seemed to bring.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Sharon,” you murmured drowsily, a soft smile curving your lips. “I feel better already.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, Your Majesty,” Sharon replied, her voice carrying a note of quiet satisfaction.

As you leaned back, letting your eyes drift shut for a moment, you missed the flicker of triumph in Sharon’s gaze. The tea may have tasted the same for both of you, but the effects would be vastly different.

And with each sip, the future Sharon envisioned—one without an heir to solidify your reign—crept ever closer.

× × × ×

The comforting haze of the tea still lingered in your mind, warmth radiating through you even as the echo of Sharon’s parting words faded into silence.

You barely noticed the gentle click of the door closing as Sharon took her leave, her footfalls soft and measured as she made her way down the hallway, the silver tray held steady in her hands.

She moved with the same graceful poise as always, her face composed, the hint of a satisfied smile lingering at the corners of her lips. But as she turned the corner to leave, she froze—just for a fraction of a second—her gaze catching on the tall figure who’d appeared at the end of the hall.

Captain Rogers.

Steve stood there, his broad frame casting a long shadow under the dim lantern light, the familiar, stoic set of his jaw making him look almost like a statue—unyielding and immovable. He’d arrived to relieve the guard outside your chambers, his presence a steadfast barrier between you and the dangers that lurked in the night.

But as his eyes locked onto Sharon’s, something shifted—something tense, wary.

He didn’t say a word. Neither did she. They simply regarded each other in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken questions and guarded suspicion.

Steve’s gaze dropped briefly to the tray Sharon held—the empty cups, the elegant teapot glinting softly in the low light. His brows furrowed, just slightly, the faintest sign of curiosity etched onto his face.

Sharon’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the tray’s handles, but she maintained her polite, serene expression. She gave him the barest of nods, a silent acknowledgment of his presence, then turned on her heel and continued down the corridor, the soft rustling of her skirts trailing behind her.

Steve watched her go, his gaze never leaving her retreating figure. Even after she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, he remained still, his eyes narrowed in thought.

A faint clink echoed from where she’d been moments before—the sound of the tray shifting ever so slightly, betraying the tension in her grip. It lingered in the silence that followed, a tiny, insignificant noise that somehow felt… wrong.

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he glanced back at the closed door to your chambers, his posture stiffening.

He hadn’t seen Sharon’s face during any of the council meetings, but he’d heard whispers about her—rumors and murmurs that drifted through the palace like a subtle breeze. Whispers of bitterness, of a deep-seated resentment that no one quite understood.

And now, here she was, slipping away in the dead of night with a tray of empty cups.

He took a slow, measured breath, then turned to the guard he was relieving, nodding curtly. “I’ll take over now,” he said, his voice low and firm.

The guard nodded, giving a quick salute before stepping back and marching down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Once alone, Steve shifted his gaze back to the corner where Sharon had vanished. He remained still, listening to the silence that filled the hall. Then, with a barely perceptible shake of his head, he turned back to your door, his expression guarded.

Whatever had transpired inside your chambers, whatever had passed between you and Sharon, it would have to wait until morning. For now, he would do what he’d always done: stand sentinel, watch, and ensure your safety.

But even as he settled into position outside your chambers, the image of Sharon’s face—calm, composed, and just a touch too serene—lingered in his mind.

And deep down, in a part of him that had always been more instinct than thought, Steve knew:

Something wasn’t right.

× × × ×

A few hours before.

The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed through the stone basement in Annecy, the dim candlelight casting flickering shadows against the damp walls. Bucky’s breaths came in short, sharp huffs, his chest heaving as he strained against the leather restraints that bound his arms and legs to the wooden chair. Every muscle in his body was tensed, veins bulging under his skin as he braced himself for what was to come.

Doctor Zemo stood across from him, meticulously adjusting a series of metal probes and needles connected to a brass device on the table. The contraption hummed ominously, wires sparking to life as Zemo calibrated the dials, his expression blank, methodical. Cold.

“This will hurt,” he stated, not out of warning, but as a detached observation.

Bucky didn’t respond. Sweat dripped down his face, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. His gaze flickered to the side, catching a glimpse of Steve and Sam standing just beyond the iron bars separating them from the room. Their expressions were twisted with anguish, eyes betraying their helplessness.

“You don’t have to do this, Buck,” Steve whispered, his voice strained. His hands were gripping the bars so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Sam, standing beside him, looked away, his jaw clenched.

“I have to,” Bucky ground out through gritted teeth. His voice wavered, but his eyes held a fierce determination. “If this is what it takes to stop it…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant.

“Begin,” Zemo ordered, ignoring the exchange. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the machine.

The first jolt sent Bucky’s body arching off the chair, a strangled scream tearing from his throat. His metal arm thrashed violently against the restraints, the vibranium whirring and sparking as the energy surged through it. Zemo watched impassively, his gaze fixed on the way Bucky’s eyes rolled back, the pain so intense it nearly swallowed him whole.

“Stop it—God, Zemo, stop!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking. He made a move toward the door, but Sam caught his arm, holding him back.

Bucky’s screams filled the room, reverberating off the walls. Every second felt like an eternity, each new wave of pain forcing a deeper, more guttural sound from his chest. The muscles in his neck strained, his face contorting with agony. He gasped for breath, his back slamming against the chair as the electric current ceased for a brief moment.

Steve turned his face away, his shoulders shaking. Sam’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he stared at the floor, unable to bear the sight.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam hissed, his voice barely audible. “This is torture.”

“It is necessary,” Zemo replied coldly, not even sparing them a glance. “To sever the Winter Soldier from James Barnes completely, I must isolate the root cause. It’s the only way to stop the episodes.” He turned a dial, and the machine buzzed louder, casting an eerie, blue light across the room.

Bucky gasped, his body convulsing as the current tore through him again. Blood dripped from his nose, his eyes red and wild.

“Make it stop!” Steve shouted, his voice breaking. “Please, Zemo, stop!”

But Zemo remained unmoved. The torment continued, relentless and unyielding. Bucky’s screams gradually faded into hoarse cries, his voice giving out as his body sagged against the restraints, utterly spent. His head hung low, sweat and blood mingling, dripping onto the floor. But even then, his fingers twitched, the tremors of pain echoing through him.

“Enough,” Zemo finally said, his tone clinical. He turned off the machine, the hum dying down to silence. The air was thick with the aftermath, Bucky’s ragged breaths the only sound in the room. Zemo approached him slowly, removing the needles and probes with steady hands. “It is done. . .for now.”

Bucky’s head lifted weakly, his eyes glazed over but still defiant, still fighting. He looked at Steve, then Sam, a flicker of something unbroken in his gaze.

“It’s okay,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “I can take it.”

Steve’s chest tightened, tears slipping down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them back. “You shouldn’t have to,” he whispered, voice trembling.

But Bucky’s lips twitched into the faintest shadow of a smile, the kind of smile that spoke of years of pain, years of enduring and surviving.

“I can take it.”

Tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

@classicrebound @nommingonfood @greatenthusiasttidalwave @railmesebstan @annawilk

@landoslutmeout @winterslove1917 @missvelvetsstuff @s0kovianwitch @lveegsoi

@suckerfordylansstuff @daydream-believer19 @shadowzena43 @itsshellzy @decaffeinatedjellyfishduck

@melsunshine @barnesxstan @singsosworld @kitsunetori

@im-normal-about-characters @hayleythecannibal

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kteezy997 · 11 months ago

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can we maybe have some more lee content ?! you’re one of the few people that have written for him and he’s just sooo underrated !! i love how casually dominant you wrote him btw amazing characterization <3

Warnings: this is filthy smut, virgin reader, mention of condoms, unprotected sex, blood, female receiving oral sex while bleeding (sorry), mention of arousal, Lee enjoying the taste of blood? what do you want me to say? if you can't deal with blood, don't read this hehe

Make Me Yours// Lee (Bones and All)

You and your boyfriend, Lee, were traveling across the country together. No real destination in either of your minds. You were just driving until the truck gave out somewhere.

You had been a couple for a while, but things never got too carried away between you. You were young, and Lee was about three years older than you, and more experienced. He knew so much about the ways of the world. You felt like he was teaching you a lot about life in general. But these days, you wanted to know about sex, in particular, sex with him. You weren't sure if he even knew that you were still a virgin. You hoped that he wouldn't care; that he would still love you and want to be with you, no matter what.

"Lee," you started to say as you drove through the night, "I was thinking we could get a room somewhere."

"A room?" he asked, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

"Yeah, I think it'd be nice to sleep on a mattress tonight, instead of a truck bed for a change." Also, you could put your penis inside me.

Lee shrugged nonchalantly, "Okay, we'll stop at the next place we see."

"Okay." you said, scooting over close to him. He put his hand on your inner thigh, over your jeans of course, and you rested your head on his shoulder. You adored his natural scent. Most men needed an expensive cologne to smell good, but not Lee. He smelled of outside, maybe a little bit of motor oil from when he had to work on the truck earlier, and he always carried the smell of musk and pine intertwined.

You cupped your hand on his arm, his lightweighted sweater was soft and worn-in, such a delight to touch your cheek to.

"Are you sleepy?" Lee asked you, noting your snuggling.

"No, just wanted to be next to you." you answered.

You saw him smile and let out a tiny little chuckle. "We're almost there." he said, nodding to a billboard that mentioned lodging in 10 miles.

.......

You passed a small pharmacy on the way to the motel, and you made up a lie to Lee about having a little headache. You asked to stop at the pharmacy to get something to help with the pain, and he agreed.

"You want me to come in with you?" he asked, softly combing your hair away from your face.

"No, it's okay. I'll just be a minute." you smiled, then got out of the truck.

You ended up buying some condoms instead of headache meds. Now, to surprise your boy at the motel room.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well, is that why you wanted a break from driving?" Lee asked you as he opened up the door of your room for the night.

"No, that's not the reason." you went over to the bed, plopping down at the foot of it.

Lee smirked at you, "What is the reason then?" he kneeled right in front of you, his hands tucked under your skirt, just barely.

"I want to have sex, Lee. I didn't buy meds for a headache. I don't have a headache." you took the pack of condoms out of your jacket pocket. "I bought these, actually."

He shook his head, surprised but very pleased, "Sneaky." He kissed you immediately and massaged his lips over yours with his signature sensuality. He put his hands on you as he climbed on top of your body.

You set the condoms down on the bed, just enjoying the kisses from your boyfriend.

His snaked his lips from your mouth to your cheek, then down your neck. He sucked your tender flesh there, leaving sweet little nibbles.

The grazing of his teeth sent shivers down your body. The heat between your legs mounted, and you were getting wet as he pressed his body against yours. "Oh, Lee." you cooed, putting your hands on his shoulders.

You felt his curly hair trickling along your jawline, his breath was warm against your neck as he said, "Y/n, I've wanted you for so fucking long." He left one more wet peck on your throat, then he reach up your skirt to pull your panties down. You were practically dripping when his fingers met your folds.

Lee watched your face as he rubbed your clit. His fingers were rough to the touch which made for excellent friction.

You rutted your hips against his fingers ever so slightly as your need for him grew stronger. You let your hand rest on his chest, and as he inserted a finger inside of you, you tucked your fingers onto his puka shell necklace. You shuddered when he introduced another finger.

His fingers left your pussy suddenly and you saw him taking his clothes off. He tossed his sweater onto the floor and untied the rope that he used as a belt. Your boy wasn't wearing underwear, and his hard cock was freed just by the removal of his mangled jeans.

Lee then helped you out of your dress, letting your garment join his on the floor.

You felt a little strange being naked in front of him, your breasts heaving up and down as your tried to control your nerves and your breathing.

He used his knee to part your legs, and he lay on top of you. His skin was comfortably warm and smooth against you, like a cozy blanket. He petted your hair, smiling down at you adoringly. He left kisses on your collarbone, then all across your chest. "You're so beautiful." he whispered, then cupped your breasts, softly kneading them.

Your nipples puckered in his palms, making you moan.

Lee held your tits in each hand, but left your hard nipples exposed so he could lick them. First was his tongue, then he put his lips on your left one, sucking, and moaning.

Waves of pleasure were sent straight to your pussy in a way that you hadn't know before.

He sucked your right nipple, leaving small kitten licks on the tender bud and softly bit down, and you whimpered. Lee chuckled lightly at your reaction. He moved his hips even closer to you.

You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock against the wetness of your pussy. "Lee, I-"

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"It's just that...I'm a virgin."

Lee couldn't hold back his delight, grinning, he said, "Yeah? Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do. I just...didn't want you to be freaked if there's, ya know, a little blood."

"I'm not afraid of a little blood." he admitted, kissing you firmly on the lips. He then hopped up from you and the bed, strolling over to the bathroom, retrieving a towel. "To go underneath you." he said.

You obliged, shifting on the bed to let him spread the towel out. You then got onto the towel.

Lee got back on you, putting his forehead on yours, "Let's make a fuckin' mess, baby."

You were taken aback a little bit. You knew your boy was special, but you weren't expecting him to be so intrigued by your virginal blood. You ultimately just chalked it up to him being in love with you and being your first.

"We'll save the condoms for later, I don't plan on coming in you this time." he said, his voice somewhat huffy. He looked between your bodies, and you watched as he lined his cock up to your opening. "Ready?" he asked, his green eyes searching into yours for affirmation.

"Yes, take me, please. Make me yours.”

Lee pushed his cock inside of you. You clung to him, thinking he would tear you open. You couldn't breathe, the pressure from his cock was too much. You held on, letting him slide in further. It stung like hell, but after a moment, it was amazing.

He started to pump in and out of you, increasing his speed slowly. His breath became uneven, and he groaned as he worked his hips. "Fuck, you're so tight, but so fucking wet."

The pain was still present, but the pleasure took the forefront. You cried his name; you dug your nails into his back to relieve some tension. His thrusts got quicker as the wetness between your legs grew. You knew it was your blood as well as your arousal. You were a woman now, his woman. And you loved it.

He was molding your pussy to the shape of his cock. Your body felt like mush, but in the best way. And Lee seemed to love fucking you with your fluids around his cock. He anchored his hands onto the cheap wooden headboard, and the structure creaked with his thrusts. His red tips took on a salmon-colored hue in the dimly lit room, and they bobbed beautifully as he bucked into you.

You felt his bony hips smacking the back of your thighs, you knew that you'd have bruises there tomorrow. But it was perfectly fine; just more proof that you were his.

He held your waist, and you put your hands on his tattooed ones. His hands were rough and scarred but that made you love him more. Every mark on his body made him who he was. If he hadn't had his past experiences, most of them too traumatic for him to even tell you, he wouldn't be the man you fell in love with.

You could hear the sloshing sounds his cock was making inside you. The sinful noise filled the room along with your whimpering moans. You looked down as he pulled his length all the way out, he was covered in red.

"I wanna taste you." he said, taking his eyes from his bloody member to your eyes.

You were stunned, "Really?"

"Yes. Please?" he pleaded, holding your legs apart.

You were horny, of course, and more than willing to let your boy do what he wanted, even if it was kind of grotesque. So, you simply nodded to him.

In an instant, his mouth was on your soaked pussy, lapping and sucking.

The suction was a lot for you to take, you trembled and threw your hands into his hair.

Lee slurped along your clit, licking up your blood and your arousal. It was as if he was sucking the virginal blood out of your body. He moaned like it was the best meal he'd had in years.

You were on fire with pleasure. Lee was squeezing your thighs as he ate you out. He flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly. Your legs shook, your tummy swirled with adrenaline. "Fuck, Lee!" you cried, knowing that this had to be an orgasm.

He continued going down on your even as you came down from your high. You knew it was just as much for his pleasure as it was for yours. He was enjoying this. Maybe he liked the taste of blood. Or maybe it was your cum that he was lapping up.

Once he finished, he perked up, looking down at you. His face was covered in blood from his cheeks down to his jawline, with dribbles trickling down his neck. There were even crimson smudges on his nose. A satisfied smirk was planted on his lips.

In the shower later, you couldn't get over how hot he looked as the water rinsed your blood off of Lee's face. The red collected at his chin and along his jaw for a second, before the stream turned pink as the blood diluted and ran down the rest of his body.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #bonesandallfanfiction #bonesandalllee

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the-massive-simp · 8 months ago

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I've been thinking about fem/gn reader losing their virginity to kaeya, venti and kaveh... But maybe they accidentally get hurt and have to stop? I wanna know how they'd act when something like that happens (:

a/n: I love this kind of prompt <3 here you go anon! I'm slowly trying to fight writer's block so its only headcanons and not drabbles but I tried my best. sadly there's no venti because i dont really feel comfortable writing suggestive or nsfw things with him (i know i got your request before changing my rules so you did nothing wrong. sorry for the inconvenience). and remember everyone: a yes can turn into a no at any moment, and that's completely fine. consent is key. also I think that my love for kaveh shows in this one because his part is twice kaeya's one

warnings: it's not graphic smut but sex is mentioned so don't read if you're uncomfortable with that. no mentions of protections (make sure use them irl)

♡Kaeya♡

I imagine Kaeya being a super sex positive person, like for him sex is not a big deal as long as there's respect for the other person

so he was probably ready to have sex with you since you started dating 💀

but of course he didn't push you, he waited for you to be ready to have your first time with him

one time you have dinner at his place and an heated make up sessions evolves in discarding eachother clothes

he asks for your consent like 100 times while you two move to the bedroom

he knows how important foreplay is, so he makes sure to prepare you for the main act

then he slowly pushes himself in, an heavy breath leaving his lips as he hides his face in your neck, his arms supporting him so he doesn’t put all of his weight on you

you immediately feel uncomfortable

the stretch feels too much and its almost painful

at first you think it's normal but it doesn't go away even after he begins to gently trust in you

if anything, it gets worse, but he fails to notice tour discomfort

tears start to spill from your eyes as you put your hands on kaeya chest and tell him to stop

he immediately freezes, concern and guilt flooding his face

"Can I pull out?"

you nod and he backs away from your body, opting to sit back to give you some space

"Did it hurt? Did I do something wrong? Should I go get you anything?"

he listens to you as you try to explain him how you felt

he goes getting a warm cloth to gently clean you up before embracing you in his arms

he feels really bad for not having noticed your discomfort sooner

you tell him that's its fine, you thought you were ready but maybe you were too nervous

you two keep talking about it for a while until you fall asleep

after that for a while he's a bit reluctant to try again because he doesn't want to hurt you

but when you tell him that you really want to take this step with him, he finally agrees

expect 3 hours of foreplay

♡Kaveh♡

now now

sweet kaveh loves to spoil you, taking you out to have dinner and go shopping

however his wallet does not enjoy it as much as he does

so you often have dates where you just go for a walk together or have a picnic

it's during one of those dates that he casually mentions the subject of sex

now, he doesn’t want to force you but he loves you so much and the idea of you two doing that together looks amazing to him

the conversation its not meant to push you, but rather to offer you an occasion to talk about it together and see if you feel the same about him

when you tell him you're ready (be it that same date or after years) he gets so excited

he can't believe you're going to share the magic moment of your first time with him of all people

he probably asks you if you two can go at your place since he doesn't want alhaitham around

once you two get down to business, he's the sweetest guy ever

he kisses every single inch of your body, basically worshipping you

makes sure to keep eye contact with you most of the time so he can notice if anything is wrong

after the foreplay, he lets you get on top of him, straddling his lap while his back is propped up by some pillows

he wants you to be the one in charge so you can choose the pace of events

the moment you lower yourself on him, he knows something is wrong

yes, he does feel a lot of pleasure from finally being inside of you, but he doesn't miss the face you make

when after a few seconds he sees tears pooling in your eyes he has the confirmation of his suspects

he immediately grabs your hips and pulls you up, making you sit on his thighs before comfortly rubbing your arms and shoulders

"What's wrong baby?"

he's so gentle with you, holding you close while you sniffle in his neck, hands resting on his chest

he strokes your hair and reassures you that you don't have to do anything if you're not ready, that he'd wait a thousand years for you, that he loves you as much as before, that sex is not the important thing in your relationship

he waits for you to calm down before asking you what exactly you think went wrong

if you tell him you want to try again he's completely fine with it, but he becomes even more attentive and gentle, making sure that this time you'll be able to enjoy it

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader fluff #genshin smut #genshin fluff #kaeya smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh x reader smut #kaveh x reader fluff #kaveh fluff #kaeya x reader smut #kaeya x reader fluff

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ghostfanwriter · 5 months ago

Text

🎀🧰 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟖 🧰🎀

←Previous

🎀 Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Again!Reader

🧰 Setting: Lincoln. It is 2023 but Joel, Frank and Bill are as young as they were when they met in episode 3.

🎀 Synopsis: Your suffering was too much for your father to handle, so he decides to make you happy again.

🧰 Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut (no details for spoilers but... It's mouths everywhere and very graphic descriptions), softdom!Joel, Joel talking her through, a few descriptions of reader's hair being long.

🎀 Word count: Sixteen thousand....? (I wish I was joking, it is actually 16.5k, I can't control myself)

🧰 A/n: Finally it is here and finally you can read it and I'm sorry it took me so long, (also sorry it is so long and wordy) but I hope you cry and smile a lot!!! Thank you all so much for the support with this series all this time. I don't deserve you 🩷 I'm really happy with it and really proud of it. I hope it meets your expectations and I hope you feel it is a good way to give closure to the last chapter.

Comments, reblogs and all that sweet love are as always so, so appreciated. It makes my day to read all the kind and sweet ways in which you all relate to this story and how it resonates with all of you 🩷🧰🎀

"Does she need anything?" Joel asks, almost panting as he ran to the radio. Whatever it is. Your dad just has to say it and he's gonna go after it for you.

He hates every second it takes Bill to respond.

It is another sunny yet slightly chilly afternoon, the leaves in the trees begining to fall as summer comes to an end.

You're on your porch, practicing the part you remember of the song Joel told you he used to play for Sarah, when someone walks close to you. You look behind your shoulder, finding Frank with a wide smile on his face.

"Hi, dad... Is everything ok?" You ask, smiling softly at him, a smile that — as usually now — doesn't quite meet your eyes.

"I got you a gift." He says, and you carefully put the guitar beside your chair, looking curiously at your father. He hands you a medium sized canvas, and your temples tense when you see it.

The view from your bedroom window, except this time the weather isn't the focus of it, nor the reason why he painted it.

It's the house across the street. With fences around the large and grassy front yard, the sheep, the greenhouse in the back, and a simple, black shilhouete of a tall man. Of him.

You feel a pang of pain looking at the scene you know is never gonna happen. It's not like the painting of a sunny day, that you know will happen again after the rain ceases. It's something you'll never have, something — someone — you want, you need, and you just won't get to experience. Your eyes burn with a mixture of sadness and anger — a feeling you've never felt towards Frank before —, but you hide them from him, a single tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek.

"It's nothing compared to the drawing I did over the photo, but..." You joke, forcing a smile, mentioning the polaroid you took and drew on top of as you quickly dry your tear.

He nudges your arm playfully, sitting on the armrest of the chair you're seated on. "Guess I still have a lot to learn from you." He smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"Thank you, dad." You say, but you can't shake the confusion as to why your would dad gift you this.

So you could see it everyday as a reminder of what you could've had? Of what you're never gonna have?

About a week after you've hung that painting up on your bedroom wall — which is what you fall asleep to every night now, hoping to dream with it, with him—, you notice your dad working again on Sarah's painting.

"Why are you finishing it? It's too big for him to take it back with him." You say almost bitterly as you enter your dad's studio, startling him.

"Oh... I thought you were helping your dad in the garage." He takes a second before answering, seemingly nervous to see you. "You know I don't like unfinished work." He tries to sound nonchalant, a typical Frank smile on his lips. "Also maybe you could take a photo of it and gift it to him. Well... give, uhm, give it to Tess so she can give it to him." He corrects himself, his smile faltering. "I'm sure he'd appreciate that." Frank says, his face lightening up again with a smile packed with... Anticipation?

A glint of hope ignites inside you, combusting inside your chest, suddenly too big to fit inside you, but you kill it as quickly as it's born.

He's not coming back, don't nurture those roots any more.

"Alright." You sigh, your voice restrained. "Do you have anything here to throw away? Dad's gonna burn a few things from the garage, there's too much accumulating." You say.

Since the bonfire never happened — there wasn't really a mood for it —, the unusable wood and inflammable material started to pile up even more then they already were.

"A bonfire?" Frank's face twists with a mischievous smile, and you can't help but giggle.

"Not that dad will ever admit it." You smile softly, and he cheers.

He gives you a few broken or moldy frames, and you take them back to the middle of the street in front of your house, assembling them with the rest of the disposable wood your dad is gonna burn.

You sigh at the thought that this should've happened over two months ago. That Joel was supposed to help, to be there with you. To enjoy the bonfire, to play his guitar, to hold you afterwards...

Stop it. You promised you wouldn't cry over it.

You look at the house across the street and let out another sigh before drying a few tears from your cheeks and going to the garage to help your dad bring the rest of the things outside.

For the next two days your dad refuses to light up the bonfire, for whatever reason he didn't wanna tell you, and you didn't give it much thought.

"I think it's gonna rain." He said exasperatedly as an excuse while he covered the pile with a tarp, and you just went with it, despite the clear sky.

But today he came from a run for supplies with an urge to do it, and while he unpacked his truck, Frank took you inside to prepare a few pretty platters with some snacks for you all to eat at the bonfire.

"Now let's go get you ready." Frank says after you're done.

Your dad can't help but be performatic.

"Get ready?" You ask, confused, looking down at your baggy shirt and shorts, clothes you'd only ever wear on your period or when the weather was gloomy, and that since Joel went away became your everyday choices.

"Yes, sweetheart. Get ready. Take a shower, put on a nice dress, fix your hair and put some makeup on." Frank's face lightens up with his own words.

"You're still not over your doll phase, I see." You joke. Your dad always loved to dress you up.

You'd hop into the shower and come back to see your bed covered in different clothing options, and you were always amazed by how well he learned to do complex hairstyles just from teen and vintage magazines Bill found while outside. He'd dress you up in different outfits and you'd walk down the stairs in every single one of them while Bill judged them all.

Your family's very own little fashion show.

Needless to say, Bill always loved you in every single one of them, and your childhood is full of fond memories like that.

"I have a perfect doll at home, of course I'm gonna wanna dress her up." He kisses your temple.

"I don't... I'm not feeling it, dad. I'm sorry." You say quietly, looking down while you clean the counters, feeling bad for letting your father down on such a sweet tradition of the two of you, that always turns whatever you're doing into a special event.

And you can't help but remember how he helped you get ready the day Joel and Tess first arrived. How he said if they were to see you for some reason, you should be as pretty as you could. It makes you remember how Joel looked at you, how he smiled at you, how he said you were everything he thought he'd never see again.

"Hey, look at me." Frank says almost sternly, calling your attention, and you look up at him, your eyes watering already. "Darling... I want my daughter back!" He says, almost whining, frustration mixed with sadness making his voice shaky and his eyes watery.

"Dad..." You cry quietly, feeling bad. You know he is right. You can barely recognize yourself. But you feel powerless, you've just convinced yourself that there's no point.

He is not here to see your dresses, to smell your perfume, to praise your soft skin and hair. He's not here to see your smile.

"Honey, you gotta take care of yourself for you, even if he's not here anymore." Your dad can definitely read your mind. "Just like you always did. I want my sunny, giggly and happy girl back. I want you smiling, laughing, being silly. I want you in summer dresses and with your hair shinning, lipgloss on and smelling like our garden." He says, caressing your hair. "I know how happy all that makes you."

"I do miss it." You admit, with a pout and a smile, taking his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his and swinging your hands gently.

"Then c'mon, my silly doll. Let's get ready. Try to have fun. Even if it lasts for just a little bit." He smiles. "Then tomorrow we try again, fresh." He says, guiding you upstairs to your bedroom.

Frank went pale when he saw the pairs of lingerie Joel got you, but you told him what happened the night you put them on — that last night, and how Joel told you to get changed — and he sighed, telling you to put on a more... Simple one. You choose a romantic white and embroidered set.

You take a slow and warm shower, and leave the bathroom smelling like berries and roses, dressed in your lingerie and a robe. You walk out of your bathroom to find the dress Joel picked for you that day, carefully placed on the center of your bed, your dad smiling softly at you, his hand on his right cheek.

The dress is short, made of a light blue fabric with some small white and yellow daisies embroidered on the neckline, that has a lettuce trim. It has thin tie-up spaghetti straps and a defined waistline. It's supposed to hug your back and waist while having a more loose grip around your chest and thighs.

"He did choose the right one." Frank almost whispers, looking at you and then the dress.

"He did." You smile softly, your eyes watering just from thinking about that day as you run your fingers through the delicate embroidered flowers.

"Do you wanna wear it?" Your dad suggests, his eyes glimmering with both excitement and the glowy, warm dance of the flames of the bonfire — that Bill lit up while you showered — bouncing on the walls around your room.

"I don't know, dad..." You whisper, your sight blurry because of all the tears.

"You should wear the one the chose." Frank lifts your face. "It's a sweet memory you have with him." He dries the tears that roll down your cheeks.

You smile weakly, remembering him sitting down on your bathroom floor, his legs spread while he fixed your cabinet, talking about the QZ and thoughtfully helping you pick a dress even though he clearly had more important things to do.

You nod and Frank helps you in it, telling you how pretty you look while he ties the straps up your shoulders, before browsing through a few vintage catalogs after a simple and romantic hairstyle.

You sit in front of the mirror so he can start curling and doing your hair, and for the first time since Joel left, you have a sincere smile on your face. You've missed this, these simple moments with your dad, doing your hair, dressing up, talking about nothing, making up gossip (usually about your poor dad Bill) like you're in a beauty salon — or at least how Frank described women's beauty salons to be in the past.

After an hour of playful; "I heard Bill hasn't cut his hair in like... Three years" and "Oh, but they say he's so lovely under all that beard and grumpiness", your dad finishes up, his eyes watering as he takes a step back to take you in.

The romantic dress, your delicate white shoe and sheer socks, your soft hair cascading down your shoulders, with two delicate and small white ribbons on the back — a new addition he saw in a beauty catalog and begged Bill to find when your poor dad went out to look for supplies—, your rosey cheeks — courtesy of the beetroot blush —and glossy lips.

"You're perfect, my dove. You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen." Frank says, his voice tangled with emotion, and you smile.

"Got your good genetics." You joke, and he chuckles.

"I wish, my love." He whispers lovingly, running a hand on your hair. "But even though my blood doesn't run in your veins..." He starts, his voice thick and uncharacteristically serious as he takes your hands in his. "I guess all the time we've spent together passed some of my good looks to you." He jokes, and you laugh, giving him a hug.

"I love you, daddy." You say, and he tightens his embrace, his eyebrows furrowing at the sweet name.

"Long time since you last called me that." He smiles, his tears — that he tried so hard to hold back — now flowing freely down his cheeks.

"And now I love you even more than the last time I said it." You smile even wider, and you two only let go when you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door.

"You're gorgeous, honeybun." Bill says from the doorway, his eyes red and watery, his expression soft and tender as he looks at you.

"I'm starting to think you two are gonna throw me in the fire as an offering." You say playfully, wondering why they're being so affectionate about the bonfire.

Maybe...

No. You're just hurting yourself.

"Well, now that you mentioned it... That's not a bad idea." Bill chuckles softly. "I think the Gods would love you. Probably the best offering they've ever had. We'd have good crops and healthy animals for the rest of our lives." He says, playfully looking at Frank, and you remember how Joel used to call you angel, the memory of his low and husky voice in your ear making your eyes wetter.

Bill nods at Frank, who nods back. "I'll be by the fire." Frank says, kissing your forehead one last time before holding your chin. "My pretty girl." He smiles at you, leaving your bedroom, drying his face with his sleeves before touching Bill's shoulder and giving him a peck on the lips as he passes by him on the doorway, whispering something to him.

Bill steps closer to you, taking your hands in his, caressing the back of them, his eyes lovingly roaming around your face. "You are my daughter." He starts, his voice proud and shaking. He has never let you doubt that you're his child, even if you don't share the same blood. "And you know I'd do anything to see you safe and happy. Anything. Even if it doesn't make me happy." He says, his eyes reddening, and you tilt your head, softly squeezing and caressing his hands, soothing him.

"Daddy..." You say softly, your heart aching.

"But that's not possible because if you're happy I'm also happy." He smiles, his voice barely coming out. "There's no scenario I can imagine in which you are happy and safe — his voice breaks — and I'm not happy for seeing you happy and safe." He says, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I love you more than anything, my love. You're the best and most important thing this life has ever given me, and I only am the man I am today because I've had you with me all those years." He says between tears, and you tenderly dry his face with your thumbs.

"And I couldn't ever ask for a better family. A better father. I know all you do is to protect me. Even if it hurts at times." You say softly, finally coming to peace with what Joel asked you.

How could you ever hate your father for doing that he thinks is best for you? For trying to protect you?

"I want you to forgive me." He whispers, his head tilted down and his eyes looking up at you. "Forgive me for not allowing you to experience love." He cries, and your heart breaks along with his voice.

"Daddy." You cry, squeezing his hands. "You love me so much, you show it to me everyday. I know love. I know your love, dad's love... And for a while I knew Joel's love too." You whisper the last part, but he doesn't react to it.

"I'd be so miserable without you and your father, my love. You two are everything I care about. The only reason I'm still here. The only reason why I've made this place so good and comfortable." He says, his crying intensifying while his trembling hands move to tenderly caress your hair.

"And I know I'd be happy as long as I were with the two of you, no matter where we were. Even if we lived in a QZ, in the middle of the woods or anywhere. It's not this place that makes me greatful. It's the both of you." You smile, kissing his wet and salty cheek, and he smiles back.

"Damn good thing we have the fences though, right?" He chuckles playfully, giving you a side look as you kiss him.

"Absolutely." You smile. "The hot water and fruits may also make me love you a little more." You giggle softly, and he chuckles.

"I'm charming like that." He laughs, taking your arm in his. "I love you, I always will. And I love the woman you've become. You're strong, you're beautiful and you deserve all the happiness you can manage to have in what's left of this world." He says, for the first time — except while teaching you how to survive and defend yourself — talking to you like you're an adult.

"I'm only all that because I'm your daughter. Because you raised me." You whisper, your voice full of pride and love. "I love you too." You touch your head to his shoulder tenderly, your love for each other filling the air around you while he holds you for what feels like forever — but still not long enough.

"C'mon, your dad is waiting for us." He says after a while, and he fixes your hair before walking you downstairs, his arm tangled with yours.

He goes slowly, no rush as he sometimes steals glances at you and smiles. You don't understand why, but this moment feels special. If feels like you're gonna remember this feeling forever.

You find the front door open, and he guides you towards it. From inside you see Frank smiling by the bonfire as he looks at you, and you see his lips moving, whispering 'my princess', making you smile back at him.

You walk outside your house with your arms still tangled with your dad's, and as soon as you look at the bonfire...

It can't be.

"You. She needs you." Bill cried on the radio, inviting Joel to come back, to stay with you. To help him make you happy.

You eyes well up instantly, your mouth hanging open and your nose burning with the sudden rush of tears flooding your eyes, and you try to run, but your dad holds you back, taking your face in his hands.

"Honeybun..." His voice is shaking. "You know I love you more than anything in this life, don't you?" He asks and you nod emphatically, repeating 'yes' over and over as tears roll down your cheeks. "Promise me you'll always love me more than anything too?" He asks, his eyes watering as he smiles adoringly down at you.

"I could never love anything more than I love you, daddy." You cry, hugging your dad tight. He kisses the top of your head and gives you a reassuring look.

"I love you." He whispers, releasing your arm. You look at Frank, and he nods, his cheeks wet.

You turn back to the bonfire. To him. And you run.

You run desperately into his arms, open and ready to hold you. His body stumbles back as you jump into his embrace.

God, how you missed his arms, how you missed his smell, his warmth. You can't even speak, letting the tightness of your embrace speak for itself as you grip his shirt and shoulder blades tight and he almost lifts you off the ground, his heart beating so fast that you can feel it against your chest.

"Joel..." You cry in his ear, squeezing him as much as you can to make sure this is real. He is here. With you.

He cries your name back, holding the back of your head and wrapping his other arm protectively and tightly around your waist, his tears wetting your hair. Your hair that he missed so much, with the softness and the scent he craved so much, the scent of your skin, the feel of it, the glow you emanate, that seems to leave your pores and intoxicate him.

He pulls back slightly, his hands holding your waist and cupping your face — that way he always cups your face —, his thumb caressing the delicate skin underneath your eye, his eyes looking adoringly down at you, like you're the most precious, most special and delicate thing left in this planet. Like if you're the sole reason behind his wide smile, that seems to mimic yours. Wider than you've ever seen before.

Your presence gives him an instant sense of peace, a sense of belonging, of purpose. He wants to preserve this. Your wellbeing, your safety, your peace, your smile. Make sure you're well fed, healthy, taken care of. Make sure you're happy and loved.

It makes him want to forget about the old Joel. The sad and bitter, stoic and practical man that wouldn't want to get involved with you under the cowardice of not being good enough for you. He will be good enough. Vulnerable enough, open enough, romantic enough. He will allow himself to love you. He is gonna make damn sure of it everyday, he promises to himself. There won't be one day he won't do everything in his power to make you the happiest woman alive.

The old violent and deadly Joel will be preserved though. Kept quiet in a corner, always vigilant and attentive, ready to surface if he ever has to protect your town, your parents or especially you. Ready to not measure means to keep you safe.

You look behind him and see three big bags on the floor. "Are you... Are you staying?" You ask with a wide and contagious smile, almost out of breath, and he nods, his eyes somehow becoming even softer.

"Only if you want me to." He smiles, like you could ever say no to him, like if you could ever not want him to stay. Ever not want him.

Your smile somehow widens even more and you hug him tight again, like if any inch between you two could perhaps give him a chance to leave again. A chance he'd of course never take, never leave you again, never not have you again.

You enjoy his warmth for a little longer, remembering how soft and comfortable his embrace feels, how his fluffy flannel makes his chest feel like a pillow. How safe and special you feel in his arms. The arms that had no responsibility to love you, to choose you, but that did anyway.

And he holds you close. His strong arms keeping you shielded and protected, warm and safe. He never wants to forget what it feels like to hold you again. His heart seems to find a calmer pace as it feels your own beating against his chest.

A few moments later you remember that Joel isn't the only person last on earth and turn back to your parents, their arms holding each other's, Frank resting his head on Bil shoulder, with a smile that almost matches yours and Joel's, and Bill with a stiff expression that breaks when he sees the pure bliss and joy on your face. Any remnant of doubt or uncertainty leaving his shoulders as he sees the smile and the glow he missed so much these past few months.

You run to them, hugging both at the same time, your face nesting between their shoulders, and they hug you back, protectively wrapping you in their arms. You all share a silent understanding.

This is what life must be. Full of love and trust. Full of people who wouldn't hesitate before doing what's best for one another. Who wouldn't hesitate to protect and care for each other.

"He moves one finger you didn't want him to and you tell me, you hear?" Bill says as you pull back a little, still in their arms.

"Bill..." Frank laughs.

"You raised me, dad. You know I'd kill him myself." You joke, and Bill's eyes glimmer with amusement.

"That's my girl." He laughs proudly. "She's my daughter." He playfully nudges Frank, like it'd be news to him.

"Yeah, it shows." Frank laughs back, and you hug them tight again. "Go stay with him, love. Your dad and I are gonna bring out the food." Frank says, and you nod, walking back to Joel, who once again takes you in his arms, holding you tightly, as if trying to make up for lost time before letting go and sitting down at one of the benches your dad put by the bonfire.

You sit beside him, your body facing him, and he fixes your hair tenderly.

"The ribbons look nice." He compliments, and you smile. He notices the smallest new details about you, and it makes you feel special and pretty.

"Thank you." You purr, feeling your cheeks warmer than before.

"I got you something." He smiles at you, reaching behind himself to pick a bouquet he made with some wild flowers he found on his way back to Lincoln and some craft paper Tess helped him sort out in the QZ. It makes you smile, your eyes welling up.

"Joel... They're beautiful." You manage to say, your voice barely there.

"Some are already dying, but they are the ones closer to the QZ. The closer to you, the brighter they are." He says softly as he fixes the tie-up straps of your dress, and your heart melts. "Just like me." He whispers, his eyes red, and you smile lovingly at him.

You notice there's a paper amidst the flowers, and you take it in your hands, finding it to be a photo of Joel, that's all wrinkled, like he was planning to throw it away.

"When is this from?" You ask curiously, smiling up at him, his cheeks covered by a small blush.

"That's..." He clears his throat. "The photo I took when I got you the polaroid camera, to test it. I took it before eating the food you made me." He chuckles. "I thought it looked terrible, but then I thought you'd kill me if I ever told you it existed and I never gave it to you." He smiles, gently taking your free hand in his.

"I would." You smile, tenderly caressing his cheeks in the photo, feeling his thumb caress the back of your hand.

"Sometimes I'd doubt myself." He whispers, like he's just thinking out loud, his eyes traveling around your face, a small and silly smile on his lips. You frown, tilting your head slightly as you turn to face him. "I'd wonder if you were really like this." He smiles, and you feel your cheeks heating up even more, in a way only he can make them. "Not even the photo you gave me would convince me that you were this sweet." He says with an adoring smile.

"Do you remember this dress?" You ask quietly, and he gently plays with the fabric covering your thighs.

"I knew you'd look perfect on it." He smiles. "It's like it was made for you." He says.

"Just like I was made for you." You whisper back, a shameless smile on your lips.

His eyes are wet as he looks at you. "I missed you." He whispers, his lower lip trembling.

"I missed you too." You whisper back, resting the bouquet on your lap and cupping his face, bringing his forehead to touch yours.

He nuzzles your nose, fighting back the instinct to lean forward for a kiss.

"Guess we're doing it... The little ranch." He says instead, sniffing softly and beckoning to the house across the street, a single tear falling from his cheek onto yours.

"Am I still invited to move in with you?" You laugh softly, caressing his stubble, and he responds the laughter.

"Meh... We'll see how it goes." He playfully shrugs with a smile. "I wouldn't wanna do it without you. You're the most important part of any of my plans." He whispers, his tone soft and serious as he squeezes your hand and turns it to kiss the delicate skin of your palm. "We're gonna stay with your parents while I renovate our house — our house... — and then when it is perfect, we're gonna move in. We're gonna be patient until then." He says, and you frown. You know exactly what he means.

"Joel..." You half whine. Why does he has to be such a good man?

"I know, baby. But that's not what I want from you. And I promised your father I'd have everything settled before I touched you. So both of you know I want this." He sounds sincere, so sincere, so honest, it breaks your heart. "All of this. And mostly you." He smiles.

You've been through it, but your stomach freezes at the thought of your dad and Joel talking about whether the two of you did... That.

"Did he ask you if we had s-...?" You ask, your voice small and mortified, your always sweet eyes wide open.

"We didn't use the words themselves." He quickly says when he sees the panic in your eyes, caressing your hand soothingly. "But I assured him we haven't... Actually done it yet." He says. "And he made me vow to keep it that way until I'm settled here."

Your dads return before you can respond, with trays of kebabs, some savory oat muffins you made earlier that day, fruits and a few drinks.

You all start eating, and you notice how hungry Joel seems, how he eats like he's hiding his real hunger, and it breaks your heart. But as you cook him another kebab over the bonfire flame, you get a glimpse of what life's gonna look like from now on. Taking care of him, making sure he never has to go for a day without being well fed and loved.

"Only thing missing here is some s'mores." He chuckles, looking down at you with a full mouth and a silly smile.

"Oh, I've never had those...!" You gasp, almost whine, your eyes shining with the idea of it.

"They're amazing, you would've loved them." He smiles, cleaning a few crumbs on your cheeks.

You and Frank talk and have fun while Joel and Bill mostly just watch, both still testing the waters with each other. Bill tries to read Joel, noticing how his eyes shine when he looks at you and how happy you seem with him, how close together the two of you are sitting, with your thighs glued to each other's; and Joel tries to not be too invasive or physical for Bill's liking, even though he wants nothing more than to keep you close and his arms around you for good measure.

Bill eventually joins in the conversation, asking Joel about the path from the QZ to Lincoln. About what he saw, if he noticed anything different or concerning. Joel explains how he covered his trail and describes his encounters with the dead and the infected, and you worriedly try to check his arms under his flannel, making him laugh softly at your worry, reassuring you he's fine.

···

After you're all full, Frank asks your help to bring the dishes back inside, and you follow him. After you set everything in the sink he tells you to leave it to clean the next morning and takes you to his studio, where he hands you the finished painting of Sarah.

"He gave you flowers, right? Go give him your gift." He smiles at you, and you smile back.

You walk outside the house with the canvas behind your back, and you spot Joel and your dad talking to each other. There aren't any big smiles yet, but it's happened before, so you hope it's gonna happen again.

You go to them, turning the canvas towards him, and his eyes swell as soon as he sees it, his eyebrows moving and his lips quivering.

Frank captured Sarah perfectly. Her soft eyes, her hair, her freckles and dimples. Her silly smile is almost as bright as the real thing used to be. He can't help but caress the canvas, like he could feel the soft skin of her cheeks.

Joel cries like he's seeing his girl again, like she's there with them, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a breeze pass by him when he saw the painting. Like she's by his side, present, approving of his much longed and deserved happiness. Like she's smiling from wherever she is, finally resting now that he has all this. Now that he has a safe and loving environment for himself. Now that he has you, like she knows you're gonna take care and love her father.

He hugs you, no words needed to express his gratefulness, how much he loved it.

"It's perfect. It's her. My babygirl." He manages to say between tears anyway, and when you pull back, Bill walks closer to Joel, looking at the painting, his own eyes watering.

"I know you're gonna be everything my daughter needs, Joel." He says. "Because you are a father too." His voice breaks. "You know exactly how much she means to me. I... I Promise I'll do my best to rebuild my trust in you. For her. We're gonna make this work." He whispers, and Joel nods, a determined look in his eyes. He knows it's not easy for Bill, and he wants to earn his respect once again. "And besides... She's my daughter. I know she'd deal with you before I had to step in." He chuckles, and Joel laughs.

"I know she would." Joel agrees, his eyes watering as he looks at you.

"You take good care of my little girl. You make her happy. You keep her safe. You keep that gorgeous smile on her face." He says, turning back to point at you and your wide smile, tears pouring from his eyes. "And we ain't ever gonna have a problem again." He tells Joel, who once again nods, offering his hand for your dad to shake.

He's not good at being vulnerable around others, but he hopes that's another feeling you might restore in him.

"That's everything I'll ever do." Joel says, and they shake hands, a mutual feeling of respect and trust being established between the two men. When Frank joins them, Joel offers his hand for him to shake.

"Oh, c'mon, I'm not Bill!" Frank laughs, pulling Joel into a hug that he happily responds to, feeling grateful for Frank's trust in him this whole time, and for the portrait he's still holding.

"Thank you, Frank." He whispers as they hug. "For trusting me even when I didn't deserve your trust. And for giving my girl back to me." He says, his eyes once again down to Sarah's painting.

"It was an honor to paint her." Frank smiles. "And she's not the only girl I manage to get back to you." He smiles back at you. "You take good care of my baby. Her father is a psycho, you know that." He jokes, and Joel chuckles.

"We all are to protect who we love." He nods, the old Joel speaking. Lethal when it comes to protecting you.

"You're part of our family now. Thank you for making our daughter so happy." Frank says, nudging Bill for him to say something.

"Yeah, yeah. Family." He says, his voice dry and choked in his throat. "We'll do our best to make her happy." He says, and Joel nods.

They all turn to look at you, and you feel like you could burst with love and happiness. Your parents and the man you love. All going out of their way to make you safe and happy.

"Love! Photos!" Frank tells you excitedly, and you run inside to get your camera.

"Frank..." Bill mumbles, but Frank shushes him.

"Bill today is a special day for our daughter." He says, his voice firm. "We are taking photos." He fixes Bill's hair tenderly, Joel smiling as he watches the two of them.

No wonder you're so special. Being raised by these two.

You come back with the camera Joel got you, and you first take a photo of the three of them together. Frank standing in between as they all give you their best smiles.

Then Joel takes a picture of you and your dads, smiling to himself at your bright smile.

"It looks perfect." He smiles, and Frank takes the camera from him.

"Go on, love. You two. Get the flowers, where are the flowers?" He says, and you and Joel pose together, his arm around your waist while you're wrapped around him, holding your bouquet, a happy and loving smile on your lips, and a wide one on his. "Beautiful. Now a kiss!" Frank says, and Bill shifts on his feet.

Joel is a little hesitant, but you gently cradle his face and touch your lips to his for the very first time since he went away, wanting to save the real kiss for when it's just the two of you. His arms tighten around you, and your dad cheers.

"Beautiful!" He says, showing you the photo.

"Our second first kiss." You smile, looking at the photo, then at Joel.

"You haven't kissed yet?" Frank gasps, and you shake your head. "Oh, and I got it on camera! That's so precious, my love." Frank says lovingly, and Bill smiles as he looks at the photo as well, your smile even as your lips are pressing against Joel's leave no room for him to doubt just how happy you're gonna be with him.

After a few more conversations and photos you all decide to get some rest. Your parents kiss the top of your head and go to their bedroom, Bill glancing at Joel one last before going inside, nodding at him.

All of the dishes are forgotten in the sink. "A tomorrow morning problem!", like Frank said earlier. And the bonfire, still burning its last flames, to be dismantled and cleaned the next morning as well.

You help Joel put his bags and the painting in the living room, only his backpack on him as the two of you go upstairs, holding hands, a peaceful sense of belonging consuming him as he thinks about how this is his life now. About how you don't have to hide, to lie, to suppress your feelings or worry about not having each other the next day.

And he doesn't have to worry about trust or boundaries. They're all set, and he wants more than anything to prove to your dads that he's not just after good food and a safe and comfortable bed with a pretty girl laying on it. He wants you. Happy and safe, his.

···

You reach your bedroom and open the door for him to walk in. He closes his eyes and smiles when the sweet, floral and citric scent he missed so much enters his nose.

He sets his backpack down and looks at you while you carefully place the bouquet on your dresser and fix your hair in your mirror.

"I forgot how good your bedroom smells." He smiles, walking behind you and looking lovingly at your reflection on the mirror, placing his hands on your waist. You turn around, wrapping your arms around his waist, inhaling his own scent.

"You smell good, too." You whisper, snuggling your cheek to his chest, indulging in his comforting warmth, in his presence, in his smell, the gentle rhythm of his heart, the rumble of his breathing.

"Your dad told me to shower when I got here." He chuckles, pulling you out of your trance as his hands trace gentle circles on your back.

"He made me get all dressed up." You giggle softly, certain that it was Frank that told him to shower, and he gently releases his grip on you, lifting your chin with his thumb so you look up at him.

"You're beautiful, my angel." He whispers.

The warm and now softer glow from the bonfire below your window casts a beautiful and intimate light on both of you, outlining Joel's face perfectly. All of his features; his big and sculpted nose, his big and soft brown eyes, his pouty lips, his cheekbones and jawline. His hair, that's still a bit wet near the roots, yet already fluffy and messy on its — now slightly longer — curls, his stubble — the tiny little white hairs starting to flourish —. Everything perfectly layed out for your eyes, making you remember exactly why the thoughts of him made you so breathless.

And when your eyes land back on his, you notice their softness towards you. A softness they only acquire when looking at you. A softness that seems to draw your eyes lower, to his lips, that makes you lick your own, anticipating feeling his touch again, his warmth... his taste.

Like you've rehearsed it, at the same time that you get on your tiptoes, he slowly leans down, gently cradling your face and touching his lips to yours. Intoxicating you with his hot breath against your nose, breathing the same breaths as the warm air that leaves his lungs fills your own, his gentle yet firm hands on your lower back and cheek, the roughness of his fingers on your skin, the softness of his wet lips caressing yours.

Feeling his beard tingle your face again makes you melt into his arms, it makes you melt and it makes you moan softly into his mouth, making him hold you tighter and gently tug on your hair, deepening the kiss even more and grunting as he tastes what he's missed for so long. The sweetness he thought he'd never have in his hands again.

Your tongues dance together in a passionate and intense display of intimacy. Intimacy that you've learned not long ago, that he taught you all about. An intimacy that makes him feel like you've known each other your whole lives, like your love follows you way before this life and these bodies. Like your souls have been longing to be reunited for much longer than just a few months.

You tug at his jacket, wanting to squeeze him, to make sure he's real and all yours, to try and make him feel just how much you've missed him, to have him as close as possible to you.

"Baby... We talked about this." He pulls back to whisper breathlessly over you lips when you start pressing your body against his, the kiss going from slow and romantic to hungry and needy, the sensations traveling from your tongue directly to form a pool between your legs.

"Please, Joel. I need you." You moan, burying your face on his neck, kissing the warm skin there.

"Baby..." He tries to protest, feeling that same vulnerability you always erupt inside him.

"We don't have to do anything we haven't done yet." You purr, looking up at him. "Please, Joel. I thought about you every single night." You say, and you see his nostrils widening, his chest expanding and his jaw clenching as you confess to have done what he also did.

Every single night after the first few weeks, when pain and guilt started to give space to the longing and need to be together again. Nights where he laid on his side and held himself tight, imagining what you'd feel like, remembering how warm your skin felt against his, how good you smelled, how much he missed your nails on his back, your fingers curling on his hair, your lips burning his skin, your warm and wet flesh around his fingers. Nights where he held your photo to smell the - fainter by the day - perfume you sprayed on it and to look at your sweet smile, remembering how your face contorted and how you cried his name, the sound still echoing in his mind.

"You're gonna kill me." He whispers, pulling away, leaving you whimpering softly as he walks towards your window, resting his hands on the bottom of the frame, looking at the house across the street. The one he chose to live in with you. To make yours.

You walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head against his back. "It's ok." You whisper, feeling his back expand with his heavy breathing. "I can wait. I like that you want to wait." You say against his back, your hands caressing his stomach and chest, and after a few moments, he turns around, facing you, his eyes scanning your face.

"Did you tell the truth?" He asks, his voice low and quiet. "Did you think about me like that?"

"I did." You confess again, feeling your cheeks warm up as your gaze drops to his old and dirty boots and your delicate shoes and white sheer socks.

"Then why do you need my help, angel?" He asks with a soft smile, almost a smirk, gently cupping your face and pulling it up so you look at him, his thumb caressing your cheeks.

"Because I couldn't... do it without you." You purr, leaning into his touch until he removes his hand, making you whimper as he once again walks away from you. "Joel..." You whisper, watching him.

He hears it and chuckles softly before sitting on the edge of your bed and looking at you. His gaze just like you remembered it. Hungry and lustful but somehow still soft and lovingly, his dark eyes glistening with the flames of the bonfire that are weakly dancing around your room. The intensity of his gaze makes you shift on your feet while you wait for him to say something, your fingers nervously curling around one another.

He pats his lap, calling your attention. "Come here, angel." He calls, his voice as soft and demanding as always, and before you even process it, your legs are obediently walking towards him, earning an approving smile. "Good. Come here." He instructs again, this time pulling gently on your waist for you to sit across his lap.

"I missed the way you talk to me." You confess in a whisper.

"You did?" He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear while his eyes roam around your face, a silly smile on his lips.

You nod, your eyes catching his gaze as you just stare at each other in silence for a bit.

"I like the way you tell me what to do." You purr, your shaky voice betraying how nervous you are to be so close to him again.

"And I love how you trust me..." He responds quietly, like he's just thinking out loud. "... How responsive you are to me." He whispers.

You look up at him, your eyes glistening behind a thin layer of blissful tears. "Responsive?" You ask softly, and he smiles.

"You'll see what I mean." He reassures you, carefully grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling it above your other shoulder so he can kiss the soft and sensitive skin of your perfumed neck, earning a breathy gasp and a pleased frown from you. In response, he nibs and sucks on it, squeezing your thigh gently, his hands caressing your skin, going underneath your dress to caress the soft spot where your thighs and your hips connect.

"Joel..." You whisper, trying to give him better access and simultaneously wrap your arms around him so you can touch him back.

He places both hands on your waist and gently pushes you off his lap, and you're quick to turn and straddle him, just like you did that first night on your armchair, your hands going under his arms to tug at his shoulder blades while his go to your waist and hips, holding you firmly - squeezing you so good - and tugging at the soft fabric of your dress while his lips trail wet kisses from your neck to you shoulders as his rough fingers gently undo the straps of your dress, kissing his way back from your shoulders to your jaw, and from your jaw to your already open and inviting lips.

You moan into the kiss, his hot breath caressing your skin and his beard burning you and making you lean even closer to him.

He grunts as you tug on his hair, your hips instinctively rolling against his, and he starts pulling your dress up your thighs with the back of his fingers, caressing and kneading the tender skin of your thighs as he reveals them, his worn out and barely-there nails greedily digging in the soft skin of your hips and bottom in an eager attempt to make up for the time apart, to remember and to feel everything he thought about every single night, to never again forget how you feel like under his touch.

He continues pulling your dress up, and you help him by lifting your arms, allowing him to fully reveal your soft and perfect - somehow even better than he remembered - curves, your delicate white set of lace bra and panties... And he goes numb, his eyes locked on your body and his lips apart, his hands moving up your waist, his thumbs caressing your breasts and rolling around your clothed nipples, his chest moving deeply as he tries to catch his breath, lost in the sight of you.

"I missed you so much, my angel." He whispers, his gaze making its way back to your own, his eyes soft and watery, filled with unspoken words of love and passion, with the longing of all those weeks apart, all those nights where he'd have done anything to be by your side.

All the times he caught himself looking into nothingness, lost in thoughts about you, about how you must've been and how much he wished to be doing the same nothing, staring into the same nothingness, but with you. How much he missed all of you. Every single smile, breath and noise you make. Every wrinkle in the corners of your eyes when you smile, every mark, spot and stretch, everything you'd be insecure about if you've grown in a regular setting. Things he'd never change about you.

He couldn't think of a single thing to change about you to make you more special, more perfect for him.

"I thought about you all day long. And you came back to me." You whisper back, your eyes not as shy as his, your tears flowing freely down your cheeks and onto your neck, inspiring some of his own to make the same path, rolling down his cheeks and soaking his beard. "When my dad was dressing me up... I kept thinking that maybe..." You begin crying softly. "That maybe it was because you'd come back. But... Thinking about it, after so long... It hurt... And I kept burying these feelings down but..." You smile brightly up at him, your eyes leaking blissful tears. "But you came back for me."

"I'd always come back for you." He says with a smile, his voice thick as he once again wraps his arms protectively around you, cradling your face against his chest. "I'd never not come back for you. Even if not now... I'd come back for you one day. I'd never let you be alone, my baby." He promises as he holds you behind your right knee and the nape of your neck, standing up with you in his strong arms and effortlessly fliping you over so you're lying on your back, on the edge of your bed.

"I wanna be yours. For the rest of my life." You say, caressing his hair with both hands as he kisses the now salty skin of your neck and collarbones.

"One day." He promises against your skin before looking into your eyes, his face hovering torturingly close to yours. "The day our - our - house is ready for us. That day; or whatever day after that, when you're ready for me..." He says, his voice softer than the dandelions your father planted near your garden, the dandelions that for so many sunsets heard the name 'Joel' as you exhaustively called and cried for him, with the hope that that day he'd finally come back through those gates. "That day I'll make you mine." He whispers before kissing your lips again, a short kiss before his lips move to your cheeks, where he continues. "That day I'll show you what it feels like to be mine. What it feels like to be a woman." He whispers before kissing, biting and sucking on your neck, right where he knows your vein is.

"Joel..." You moan again, squeezing his bicep through his flannel.

"I'll show you what it's like to be my woman." He whispers, his voice now lower and raspier, huskier. "I'll show you what it's like to belong to a man. To belong to me." He promises, his eyes soft and filled with a possessive passion for you.

He kisses your lips again, a short and wet peck that makes you moan for more, tugging at his hair and looking down when he draws a wet path of kisses down your throat... your collarbones... your chest... his wet and warm lips kissing the outline of your bra before engulfing your clothed left nipple in his warm lips, a sensation that makes you ache between your legs and your back arch up into his touch.

You whimper when he lets go, but as soon as you open your eyes, he's leaning in for another kiss, his hands leaving your waist and reaching behind you to unclasp your bra and reveal more of you to his sore — hungrier by the second — eyes.

"Ahnn..." You moan, your back arching higher against his body when he takes your bare nipple in his mouth, the wetness and warmth of his mouth making your legs move in response to the growing warmth and wetness between them, your toes tugging at the sheets.

"You're so fucking soft, baby." He mumbles against your skin, his eyes closed as he rolls your nipple around his tongue, suckling on it.

"Joel... It... So... Good..." You moan nothings into the air, recalling the first and last time he did this to you, how good it feels to have him so close, how special you feel with how he takes his time with you, how he doesn't make you feel like this is about pleasing him, but showing you how much he can pleasure you too.

"I'll make you feel so good, my baby." He says before kissing the lower side of your breast, then your waist, stomach, your bellybutton... Then the skin above the hem of your panties, his hands reaching underneath you and holding and kneading your bottom as he kisses along the whole waistband of your panties, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers tangle on the delicate and thin fabric.

"I know you will." You whisper, making his eyes harden with lust before softening at the sight of your sweet smile. He stands up by the bed and gently pulls your panties down your legs, upwards his chest, and he smells it, closing his eyes and growling at your scent. He places both of your feet on his chest, caressing your legs as he admires the woman — the angel — underneath him.

Seeing you fully exposed to him for the second time, this time knowing he's not betraying your dad's trust, that he's doing it the right way... It makes him forget how to breathe, his hands caressing your thighs, his eyes travelling around your body, pure love and desire burning in their softness. It makes him allow himself to fully drink you in and shamelessly indulge in just how perfect you are, in how every curve of your body seems to have been sculpted in his dreams. Like you were really made just for him, exactly how he wants and needs you.

"You're perfect." He whispers in awe, more like just an observation for himself as he kisses your ankles — with those cute fucking socks — and then his way up your legs, simultaneously lowering himself back between them, kneeling on the floor at the edge of your bed, pulling you closer to the edge. "Mine." He says when his lips reach the inner sides of your knees, his hands squeezing the front of your thighs, his arms under your thighs. "Perfect for me. All for me." He possessively squeezes your thighs as he kisses their inner skin, making you moan when he parts your legs, the air once again leaving his lungs to be filled only with the awe of you.

With the scent of you, the wetness and the color, the softness and the taste... Dammit, he can't wait to finally actually taste you, to finally feel your tender and warm flesh against his lips, your wetness coating his lips and tongue, your muscles contracting underneath and around his tongue.

"I shaved for you again." You purr, removing him from his daydreams, invitingly spreading your legs wider for him, shamelessly offering all of you for him. In a way you'd only ever do for him, even if he never came back and someone else did. "I did all this time... Hoping you'd come back." And you did it, longing to see the same darkness in his eyes you saw the first time you said those words. The same darkness you're seeing right now.

"I'd have loved you either way, angel." He whispers, kissing your mount. "A real man doesn't care about that, baby. Certainly not in a sweet girl like you. But I do appreciate the view." He growls before kissing the skin where your thighs connect to your core, earning a surprised and sweet gasp from you. "I can't think of a thing that'd make me not want you." He whispers, kissing your folds before tasting you.

"Ahhnn..." You moan softly, almost laughing with bliss at the feeling of his tongue licking along your slit, diving onto your clit, swirling around the small nub. "Joel... Hmmm..." You moan, your eyes already closed and your breathing already heavy.

"I haven't even started yet, baby. And that's what I mean with responsive..." He smirks before exploring every corner and fold of you with his tongue, his beard deliciously scratching and bruising your skin. "You're so fucking responsive to me, to the smallest little touches."

You try to spread your legs even further for him, eager to give him as much as possible, and he notices your struggle with the need to give him more and to soothe yourself somehow, your hands desperately gripping the sheets, your whole body already overwhelmed by him and the foreign and delicious sensation of his mouth on you. He lifts your legs, touching your knees to your chest.

"Hold your legs for me, angel, please." He asks softly, and you hug your knees, one in each arm, your legs fully spread and your core in full display for his hungry eyes, leaking with need for more, the sheets connected to you by a thin streak of your leaking juices. He presses both his thumbs on each one of your lips, watching as the arousal seems to leak out of your core as he presses against your flesh, his eyes darkening and becoming hazed as he anticipates watching you come apart for him again.

Vulnerable, responsive and shameless, just like he remembers your outbursts to be like. Your eyes closed shut or looking desperately into his own, your lips curled downwards in whimpers and cries, your hands squeezing him.

"I'mma need you to be real quiet for me, alright, baby? Only for my ears." He whispers, looking up at you, and you nod. "Can you do that for me, angel?" He asks softly.

You nod, words are way past your brain's capacity now.

"Words, my sweet girl." He squeezes your thighs. "Use your pretty words for me."

"Yes." You say in a breathless whisper, your whole body is shaking in anticipation.

"That's my good girl." He praises before parting your folds with his thumbs. He grunts at the view and buries his lips underneath yours, his beard scratching you, only adding to the feeling as he sucks on every bit of flesh, slurping in your juices and pressing his tongue against your aching and pulsing entrance, circling it and teasing pushing in.

"Joel!" You urgently beg for more, your voice quiet and small. You need more. You feel like you're so close already, his teasing and the way he's almost worshipping you making your body run to the edge. Already so close from falling that you want to hold back just to feel this for longer. "Joel, I... I can't hold it!" You purr in delicious agony, begging for both his mercy and more of his touch.

"Let go for me, princess. We've got all night to recover and do it again." He says huskily before once again parting your inner folds with his thumbs, admiring your tightness. "You're gonna feel so good around me, baby." He licks the exposed entrance, indulging in the wetness and warmth of your aching body. His tongue lapping on the pool that's formed inside you.

"More, Joel. More, please." You plead, hugging your knees closer to you in a desperate attempt to soothe your even more desperate body.

He responds by taking your clit in his mouth, licking the bud and pushing the hood back with his tongue, the feeling of his soft and warm tongue on your most sensitive spot making your body jolt with a literal spark of electricity that runs through your flesh, the feeling making you desperate with need, like if you're coming already under his tongue, your eyes snap open.

You gasp as he does it again, your eyes now closing shut. He smirks and lets the hood cover your clit again before he begins sucking on it, the feeling burning, itching and aching, all at the same time as your legs tremble desperately against your chest, your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your mouth open in a silent scream as you lose complete control, your body tensing up, your juices flowing freely from you to your sheets, and your mind going blank, not a single thought or feeling that isn't the overwhelming pleasure he's giving you crossing your mind.

Only him, his tongue, his hands holding you, his fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place, his scent, his warm breath against your tenderness, his eyes watching you crumble. You feel an agonizing pleasure washing over you, your body melting underneath his touch.

You come back from your high with tears falling down your cheeks, your legs sore and shaking, your breathing heavy and your throat dry, a sticky pool on the sheets underneath you and Joel gently kissing your folds, trying to help you come down and gather some of the leaking juices that you've just released.

"Joel..." You try to whisper, but the sound half dies on your tongue, the sweetness and need still making their way to his ears, and he smiles up at you, once again kissing his way up from your folds to you mount, through your stomach till your breasts, stopping by your nipple before reaching your collarbones, then your neck... Your throat and jaw, then kissing a tight trail until he reaches the corner of your lips.

"You did so good, my baby." He praises, his voice filled with pride. "So intense but so quiet and sweet for me." He whispers, touching his forehead to yours, and you smile, your cheeks warming up even more.

"Can you do this to me again?" You whisper sweetly, an undeniable amount of innocence and love in your request, making him chuckle.

"Everyday if you want me to, my angel." He smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'd never deny tasting you, making you crumble like that." He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his lips, your taste mingled with his own making you moan and tug at his curls, needing more, all of him.

"I wanna make you crumble too." You say breathlessly when he pulls back, and he smiles softly.

"Baby..." He starts, and you know that tone.

"Please, Joel!" You furrow your eyebrows. "Please, it's not fair you do it to me and I don't do it for you too." You purr. "I want to do it for you." You reassure him with a smile.

Your eagerness to please him... Something most women did everything in their power to not do... Fuck. He's one lucky son of a bitch.

"Baby... Me doing it to you is one thing... But... You don't have to do the same. We can try something we've already done before." He says, and the honesty, patience and respect in his voice makes you want to ravish him. To make him feel so good for making you feel so comfortable and safe, that he's gonna forget his own name.

"The more you tell me I don't have to... The more I'll wanna do it." You smile, a hint of mischief and innocent curiosity to know what it feels like to finally taste him, to really have him in your mouth, his breathing heavy, his face contorting, his fingers on your hair... "Please." You purr, using the face that gets you everything you want.

And he knows it damn well. He knows you always get what you want. And tonight is not gonna be the first time he says no to you.

"Still trying to kill me, I see." He smiles, kissing you again, his hand once again traveling down your body, gently pinching your nipple and rolling it in between his thumb and index fingers until you whimper in response, then making a ticklish trail down your waist and hips, finding your core again, spreading your folds and pushing the tip of his middle finger inside your - even tighter after your orgasm - entrance. "So fucking tight, baby... Gonna squeeze me so fucking good." He growls against your lips before pushing the finger fully in, curling his finger to masterfully hit your sweetest spot with a precision that not even you have yet.

"Oh... Joel!" You moan, your eyes closed and your eyebrows furrowed as he continuously presses the right button inside you. "Joel?!" You say, your eyes snapping open and confused by the intense and sudden sensation, the feeling increased, as intense as it always is after an orgasm. "Joel I..." You struggle, your face contorted in a perfect display of the blissfulness he's washing your body and soul with.

"Keep saying my name, my sweet girl." He kisses your lips gently before going down and burying his face back between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth, creating a mind numbing sensation as his finger still pumps your favorite spot.

"Joooel!" You cry out, forgetting to be silent, your upper body jolting up.

"Shhhh... No, baby... Be good for me, c'mon. Not so loud." He frowns before diving back in, his lips glistening with you. Your eyes roll back as your hips eagerly move against his face, making him grunt and squeeze your thigh with his free hand. "That's it..." He encourages, and you move even more intensely, your hands tugging at his curls, the sheets and anything at your reach as you feel another soul crushing orgasm building deep, deeper than ever before, inside your core.

"Jooooel!" You cry out again, more quietly this time, only for his ears, your voice strangled.

"Good girl." He praises. "Give it to me, angel. I know how much you love my attention, baby... And you're doing a really good job for me, so quiet and good for me..." He says before sucking your clit back into his mouth and inserting another thick finger in your tight insides, thrusting them in and out gently and pressing your sweetest spot between thrusts.

"Aaaah!" You whimper before it hits you suddenly and you're gone. Mind blank, legs shaking, body convulsing and hands almost painfully tugging at his hair as you have the orgasm of your life.

He groans when he feels your fingers pulling on his curls and your clit throbbing underneath his tongue, his eyes fixated on your pretty face all twisted and scrunched in almost painful pleasure as he breaks you apart. His fingers getting soaked inside you, your walls gripping him so tightly he can't even pump his fingers, just continuously pressing against your sweetest spot until you finally begin to come down.

"Joel! Joel! God! Joel!" You desperately pull him up onto you, holding tightly onto him, kissing his lips with more need and passion than ever before, tears flowing out of your eyes not only because of the overwhelming feelings he just made you feel, but mostly because you still can't process this is real.

You're not dreaming. This is not one of those dreams. He's here. With you. In your bed. His fingers inside you. He's finally yours again.

"Shhh... It's ok. I got you." He whispers when he breathlessly pulls back, kissing your neck, giving you time to recover and catch your breath.

"Joel..." You whimper against his neck.

"I'm right here, darling. You did so good for me again, my baby." He soothingly caresses your hair. "You always do..." He kisses your shoulder.

"That..." You say breathlessly. "I want you to do that again." You say, giggling a silly giggle as your brain starts to regain its shape.

He chuckles, pepering tender kisses all over your shoulder, collarbones, neck and jaw.

"I'm still gonna make you feel even better than that, baby." He whispers in your ears, his breath tickling your neck, making you laugh and get covered in goosebumps. "Over and over again. Until you get tired of me." He promises.

"Then you won't ever stop." You purr back, caressing his beard and his cheek tenderly, enjoying the feeling of having him in your arms again.

"We've got the rest of our lives for that." He smiles, leaning in for a sweet and slow kiss, his weight pushing you deeper onto the mattress, making you moan and pull him even lower onto you, your hands on his back, tugging at his shirt and squeezing his muscles.

"Can I do it now?" You break the kiss when you feel his bulge pressing against your thigh.

"Angel..." He says softly, kissing your jaw.

"Please, Joel... Just a little bit... I wanna see you again... I thought so much about holding you again..." You whisper, your hand moving down his stomach, testing his resistance.

He presses his thumb against your lower lip as is trying to shush you, pressing against it, caressing it. You don't hesitate in kissing it and licking it gently, swirling your tongue around his digit, and he presses his thumb against your tongue, pushing it inside your mouth. You invitingly part your lips and suckle around his thumb, swirling your tongue around it, watching his face; his eyelids heavy, his lips parted and his breathing heavy. He pulls his thumb back, a thin thread of saliva connecting his thumb to your pink and wet lips.

"Fuck..." He growls breathlessly. He just really can't say no to you. He sits down beside you, patting the mattress between his legs. "Come here, baby." His raspy voice calls, and you don't hesitate, quickly dropping to the floor between his legs. "Listen!" He warns softly before you reach for his belt, and you retract your hands, his hand gripping your chin firmly. "No mouth unless I say so." He sternly says, his mind reeling on the sight of your pink and wet lips around his thumb.

"Joel...!" You whine, frowning in frustration, sitting back on your heels, your hands resting on your thighs. He only looks down at you, his eyes serious and stern.

"No mouth or nothing at all." He says, and you frown.

"Alright." You mumble, making him smile.

"There's my good girl." He says, running his thumb on your cheek before placing his hands beside him to support himself. "Take my pants off, baby." He instructs softly.

You decide to first untie his boots, carefully removing them from his tired and calloused feet, hearing him groan in relief. You remove his socks too before undoing his zíper, your fingers curling underneath the waistband of his jeans and boxers down his legs before looking back up at his cock.

His throbbing, hard and aching cock. Aching for you. For more of you than he'd admit right now. For all of you.

You smile up at him, waiting for his permission to touch him, and he smiles down at you.

"Go on, baby. It's yours." He says, his voice affected by lust and affection as he gives himself to you.

"It's mine?" You whisper, shooting him a tender and playful smile as you loosely wrap your fingers around him, frowning when you feel how hard and warm he is, how tender his skin is despite how really hard he is in his center. Just like you remembered.

God, you missed him.

His pink and glistening tip, his thick and towering length, his vein that travels from his base all the way to his tip, his foreskin involving his tip, his balls heavy with everything you can't wait to begin craving.

"All yours, baby. It likes you. Missed you." He smiles down at you, and you can feel your cheeks a little warmer.

"I like it too. Missed it too." You whisper before stroking him slowly and gently, getting used again to how he feels in your hands.

"I can tell, baby..." He whispers, looking down at you. "Remember how you did it that time in the bathroom?" He asks softly, gently fixing your hair behind your shoulders.

"Uhum". You nod.

"Good. Do it just like that. Slow at first, then faster." He instructs softly, and you smile up at him.

You grip him a bit tighter and move your hand slowly, making him grunt. You watch how his foreskin moves along with your hands, covering and uncovering his tip, his precum pooling in his tip as he allows himself to be consumed by your touch. Your soft hands, your curious gaze and touch, how happy he is to have you again, to know you're his. To do this... And to see you everyday, to take care of you everyday, to kiss and hug you everyday. He moans and cups your cheek, tilting your face up as he leans in, his stomach pressing against your hand as he kisses you again. His lips desperate to never again forget what you taste like.

"You're so beautiful, my angel... You're so, so perfect for me." He says, his eyes travelling around your sweet and flustered face. "It's like you were made for me. Just for me, just so I could find you one day." He whispers.

The thought of being his, of your whole body belonging to him, your whole purpose to please and make him happy is more overwhelming than it should be, and it makes you purr in response. "Maybe I was." You say, making him smile and kiss your forehead before leaning back to give your hands more room to work.

"Maybe you were." He whispers tenderly.

You continue your steady movements, your eyes curiously watching him, and you feel your hands wet. You see his precum leaking out of him and you smear it all over his length, making him grunt as your hands slide easily along him, a wet sound filing your ears, making you lick your lips.

"Joel... Since it is mine...?" You ask sweetly, ready to beg for it if he says no.

"Guess I did say it." He sighs while he sits back. He's not strong enough for this. "It's yous, darling... You can do whatever you want with it." He gently pushes your hair behind your shoulders again, his cock throbbing with the ideas he knows you might have.

"I promise you wont regret it." You smile and lean in, smelling him curiously before gently kissing his very tip, your lips just ghostingly grazing his sensitive skin. He lets out a shaky breath when your warm breath hits his sensitive flesh, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"I know I won't, baby... I know I won't." He grunts quietly.

"Hmmm... Tastes like you." You purr, smiling up at him, your hand never stopping its slow and steady, tight pace on him.

"And is that good?" He chuckles softly.

"Uhum..." You lick it, earning a grunt from him. "Delicious." You purr before a long and firm swirl of your tongue around his head. "Hmmmm... Very, very delicious." You moan, twirling your tongue around him again, feeling how soft and wet the flesh of his tip is. Doing it just like that night, when he breathlessly called your name and let you taste him for the first time. "Better than I remembered."

"God... That's... Jesus, angel... Don't tease me like that..." He groans, and you frown.

"I'm not teasing you." You say, licking him again.

"But you are." He pants.

"I just like kissing it." You whisper with a sly smile, and he frowns.

"Yeah, baby. I... God, I like it too. But I need more, I've waited long enough." He growls, trying to keep himself together, his body desperate for more.

"Teach me how to give you more." You whisper.

Jesus Christ.

"Suck on it, baby. Go slow, not too deep. Do it like you were doing with your tongue, but sucking on it at the same time." He instructs breathlessly.

"Ok." You say before wrapping your soft lips around his throbbing tip again, this time sucking and licking simultaneously, earring a grunt.

"Good, just like that." He praises. "Don't forget your hand." He says, gently wrapping his large ones around yours, and you begin moving it up and down his length, moving your wrists at slightly different paces to increase his sensations. "Good job... Fuck... Just like that." He moans, his hands moving along with yours, their warmth reassuring and comforting.

You continue giving him more, gently suckling on his tip, enjoying the feeling of it against your lips and tongue, the curves of the underside of it, the warmth and taste, how wet and how soft it feels. You lock your lips around it and swirl your tongue around the head, and he moans when the underside of your tongue slides over his aching tip.

"Holy shit... Baby..." He pants, trying not to stop your exploration, even though he wants nothing more than to hold your head and relieve himself. Instead, he looks down at you, reminding himself that it is you, your mouth, your first time doing it, and his hand tenderly tangle on your hair as you continue getting to know him once again.

The feeling of his hand in your hair is soothing and reassuring. It makes you go deeper, taking him halfway through and sucking with your whole mouth, closing your eyes at the feeling of him inside your mouth, your tongue sliding along his underside, exploring a vein that's pulsing against your touch.

"Oh, baby... Fuck, that's it." He moans breathlessly in response, his hand unconciously tugging gently at your hair. "Try hollowing your cheeks now." He commands with a smooth voice.

You do it and as he occupies your whole mouth, for a sweet moment it's almost like the rest of him is gone. All but his cock in your mouth and his hand in your hair. The feeling of his warm, tender and hard flesh in your mouth is foreign yet familiar, like you've imagined it for so long that it's like you've always had it. Like you were always meant to have him.

"You're doing so good, baby... So fucking good for me." He praises, looking adoringly down at you, his face slightly flushed and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He looks Godly, he looks happy and satisfied, and it makes you want to take him in even deeper, to please him even more, so you do, your eyes locked on his.

The sounds he makes in response and the way his face contorted when he hit the back of your throat made you wanna take even more of him, let him fill your mouth. And the way he pulled on your hair and growled when you did it made you wanna do it again, and again, and again...

"Baby...! Fuck...!" He grunts, his voice strangled, unable to tell you to slow down, his chest and stomach rising and falling heavily with every movement of your mouth on him. The sight of how you were affecting him made you hungry for more, it made you want to take him even deeper and even harder, so you go, and you accidentally gag around him, your vision going pitch black for a second.

His hands tighten around yours, pulling himself out of your mouth as you gasp for air. He looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pierced together in concern.

"Angel, hey, baby." He says softly, calling you by your name as well, holding your shoulders to keep you back, and you sit on your heels, looking up at him with red and watery eyes. "Hey, look at me, don't do that, darling." He says, shaking his head while cupping your face and using his thumb to gently clean the precum and saliva dripping down your chin.

"But I wanted to..." You purr, looking up at him, your cheeks burning at your own eagerness. "Did I hurt you?" You ask, your eyes wide with the innocent worry.

He chuckles in response, his gorgeous face lightening up. "You didn't hurt me, baby, no." He fixes your hair. "But you're not ready for that yet. You're learning and you gotta go slow." He explains softly, kissing your forehead.

"Slowly. Alright." You agree before reaching back for him, stroking him slowly and tight.

"See? That feels good already, baby... As long as it's you doing it... It'll always feel good enough." He kisses your swollen lips tenderly. "No going too deep for now, alright? Or I won't let you do it anymore." He smiles softly despite his warning.

"Uhum." You nod before leaning back in, stroking him and cupping his balls.

"Oh... Careful with those, baby..." He says softly, an you gently soften your grip, just rolling them around in your hand.

"Does it feel good when I touch them?" You whisper, and he frowns at the question.

"Yes... Yes, baby. It feels really good when you touch them." He breathes, his voice restrained. "It'd feel really good if you sucked on them too." He pants, giving in to his desires. "Nice and gentle." He instructs.

You smile and take one of them in your mouth, making him hiss, his hand returning to your hair. You suck gently on it, rolling it around your tongue and feeling how it feels underneath the skin, how squishy it feels, how you can feel their outline underneath the stretchy and cool skin. He grunts and moans in response, unable to hide how your curious exploration affects him anymore.

You kiss your way up from his balls to his cock, licking and sucking gently on his base, your hand working near his tip as you place open mouthed kisses along his length.

"Baby... God..." He pants, the way you're so curious to tasting and exploring him makes him feel like he's about to lose his mind and his self-control. "Lick it for me, baby. Suck on it." He groans.

You listen and slide your parted lips up his side, your tongue drawing a wet line across him, making him buckle his hips involuntarily. You begin moving the same way up and down, parted lips and tongue tasting him while your lips suck along his length, paying special attention near his tip.

You suck his tip into your mouth before sliding your lips down, his tip pressing onto the side of your cheek and popping off with a wet "bop" that makes him moan.

"Fuck, that feels so good, baby." He chuckles, caught off guard, and you notice how much he enjoyed it, so you do it again, taking his tip in your mouth an sliding your lips sidesways towards his base, his tip once again pressing against your cheek before popping off, making him pull at your hair.

You moan and suck his head back inside your mouth, whimpering around him, your mouth eager to make him feel good and get the same reactions and sounds out of him as you grow more confident with your touch.

You look up at him, watching how you're affecting him, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips parted, his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed.

The sight is too Godly to resist, so while you suck and Bob your head hungrily around him, you let your hands wander up his stomach and chest, your fingers clawing on his shirt and trying to tug at his skin. Instinctively, he leans back, giving you more room to explore his body as his eyes open to look down at you and his fingers draw soothing and tender circles in your scalp, just above the nape of your neck.

Your hands reach underneath his shirt, touching his sturdy and large torso, gripping his skin and moaning at how good he feels under your fingers. How good his belly feels to hold onto.

He takes one of your hands and squeezes it, his eyes closed in bliss, his eyebrows furrowing every time you swallow what's building up in your mouth and squeeze him a bit in against your lips.

"You're perfect, baby... You're doing it so good for me... Making me feel so good..." He praises, and the confirmation that you're making him feel good ignites the same need that you had before, making you want to go deeper, harder, faster and make his eyes roll back the same way he makes yours. "Let some leak down and use it to move your hands." He instructs, and you let some of his precum and your drool wet his cock.

"So messy..." You mumble around him, looking up at him, and he chuckles.

"Messy is good when you're doing this, baby. Messy feels very good." He explains.

"Hmmmmm..." You moan around him, taking your hands back to his cock and twisting your wrists, his foreskin moving under your wet palms and fingertips as the friction of your hands along with your mouth tightly enclosing around his tip make his hips buckle up, a hiss leaving his lips.

"Fuck... You... You figured all that rest yourself, baby?" He grunts, trying to hold his sensations back and let you enjoy yourself as he shifts his hips, trying to regain some control.

"Uhum." You nod around him, your tongue twirling on his sensitive and leaking tip as you caress him with the underside of your tongue, seeking the same reactions.

"Holy shit. Baby... I'm... Trying but... You're... Fuck... You're gonna have to stop." He pants, the desperation in his voice as he tries to hold back and last more almost making you laugh.

The sight of this big and strong man crumbling under your touch is new and exciting, making you feel powerful and...

Like a woman...?

The realization that his pleasure, his release is under your mercy makes you slow down and harden your movements, exactly like you do to yourself to prolong the feeling of being on the edge.

"Baby... God..." He looks for divine mercy, his eyes locked on the roof as you test his boundaries and limits, as you see how far you can take him before he loses control. "Please, my baby... Just... I need it. I need you." He pants, his eyes now glued to yours, the vulnerability and the honesty with which he gives himself to you makes you fasten your tongue around his tip and stroke him tighter, slowly increasing your hands speed. "Arrnh!" He groans. "Yes, baby, just like that, feels so fucking good."

His response makes you grow more confident, closing your eyes and doing what instinctively feels right to you. Hands tighter and faster with each stroke, lips wrapped underneath his head and tongue twirling and moving up and down, pushing against his urethra.

"Aaaargh! Baby... Pull back... Pull back, fuck..." You hear him grunting almost like he's in pain, and as you open your eyes, the sight makes you moan.

His hair disheveled, his gorgeous face scrunched and pained, his teeth clenched together, his eyes heavy and dark, his neck red, that one vein one second away from exploding. You continue, doing what you think is gonna make him feel even better, hollowing your mouth and suckling on his tip, just like he taught you, and his mouth falls open with a silent gasp, his eyes scrunched together.

"Baby... Pull... Back..." His stern voice sounds more like a pleading as he tries to get you to back off so he can finally let go, but instead, you begin sucking even harder around his tip, almost like you're trying to drink from him.

And he can't hold back anymore. He snaps, his hand tugging hard on your hair, so hard you whimper and furrow your brows, making him tug at your sheets instead, his grip so tight that his knuckles turn white and he pulls the sheets from underneath the mattress, his hips buckling up against his will, pushing more of himself into your mouth as you greedily lock your lips around him and drink every last drop that he gives you, sucking and stroking him progressively more gently and slowly as he comes down from his high.

"Aaaaah!" He pants and gasps for air when you let go of his still semi hard but utterly worn out cock, his arms threatening to give up underneath him as he looks down at you, his eyes hazed and filled with satisfaction and awe. "Baby that was... Amazing... You did so good, my baby, such a good fucking girl for me." He praises, too weak to do much more, and you smile up at him, proud of yourself for making him feel like this.

You climb up his body, and he lays back down, his hands on your waist and hips as you lay your naked body on top of his clothed torso, looking up at his blissful face. All of his wrinkles and the usual stressed frown between his eyebrows gone with the attention you just gave him, his eyes closed and his lips parted as he catches his breath.

"I told you you wouldn't regret it." You whisper, kissing his jaw.

"Regret it? Fuck... Baby... I... Why do you think I've never let you do this before?" He chuckles.

"Why?" You ask playfully, playing with the buttons of his flannel.

"Because I knew you'd make me feel so good, baby." He smiles. "I don't know what I did to deserve you. But I'm also not about to start questioning it and make God realize he sent you to the wrong motherfucker and take you away from me again." He chuckles.

You giggle and snuggle closer to him, letting go of your weight and feeling his body moving with his heavy breathing, the movement soothing you, like you're swimming in a sea of Joel Miller.

"Joel...?" You say quietly as you two just breathe and enjoy the warmth of one another.

"Yes, baby?" He whispers back, his hands caressing your back and holding you close.

"We need to take a shower... And put some clothes on." You say softly, lifting yourself and looking down at him, his face relaxed and almost silly, his eyes as soft and happy as always when they're looking at you.

"Guess we do." He smiles, pulling you down for a kiss, tongue tracing your lips before you grant him entrance and he deepens the kiss with renewed passion and tenderness. "I love you." He whispers against your lips, the words rolling easily from his lips, as if he's said them multiple times when you weren't there to hear it.

You pull back, looking into his eyes as he smiles at you. "I love you too." You whisper, your eyes welling up. "I love you, Joel." You repeat, smiling widely, and he flips you both around, his body hovering above yours.

"I love you, my precious angel... And finally you're with me to hear me say it." His eyes water. "I said it so many times... Looking at the picture you gave me... With that pretty smile... I couldn't stop thinking about you." He says, his voice loving and vulnerable.

"I waited for you to come back. Every single day, until yesterday..." Your voice breaks. "... I spent the sunsets looking at the gates, hoping I'd see you walk in again." You cry softly. "And I'd keep doing it. Eery single day... I'd always wait for you." You purr, and he cups your cheek that way, his thumb caressing the soft skin underneath your eyes as his other fingers wrap around your ear, his gaze loving and tender.

"And I always asked Frank about you. When he was the one on the radio I'd always sneak in and ask about you. I always made Tess ask about you. She said you were always on your porch," He smiles. "looking beyond the gates, trying to see me... I felt so bad, baby." He cries, looking down at you, his lips trembling.

There's the vulnerability that only shows up when you're around.

"Joel..." You whisper, cradling his face, trying to soothe him.

"You didn't deserve to go through any of that... Any of that." He says, his eyes closed in shame.

"Joel... Baby... Look at me, please." You purr sweetly, gently squeezing his face so he looks at you. "I'll tell you what I told my dad." You sigh to calm yourself down before speaking. "I only hurt the way I did for you because I love you. Because you mean so much to me. And I don't regret a thing. Not even the pain I felt. Because now that I have you... The pain is gone, and I know what I feel for you is real, because the pain I felt was real. And I'll never feel that pain again as long as I have you." You say tenderly, and he kisses you again, his mouth silently pouring all the pretty words he can't formulate to express just how much he loves you, just how much he feels for you as he finally allows the roots and branches inside his chest to grow and flourish, to set themselves now that he knows you're his forever, and he can almost feel his chest expanding just to fit all these new feelings you're sowing on his heart.

"You're my everything." He whispers lovingly. "You make me happy in a way I thought I'd never be again. In a way I know I don't deserve to be." He says weakly. "But you make me feel like I'm worthy of it." He cries. "Because if such a sweet and special angel like you can see through me, can love me... Then I'll try everyday to be the man you deserve." He says, and you smile.

"You already are the man I deserve, Joel. You're the man I want. The man I love. And I'm so glad you were the one to visit us. I'm so glad you found me." You say lovingly, and he kisses you again, his hands squeezing and caressing your soft skin as he tries to convince himself that he's not dreaming with you again.

"I wanna hold you all night long." He whispers against you lips.

"You can hold me under a warm shower first." You whisper, smiling, and he smiles back, getting off the bed and pulling you up to your feet as well.

You gently undo the buttons of his shirt and pull if off him, seeing his strong and sturdy torso again, remembering how good he looked that day, the water droplets glistening in his chest and stomach. You slowly run your hands up his arms, kissing the little "v" shape between his collarbones, and he groans softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

"Angel..." He whispers, gently tangling his hand on the hair on the back of your head and making you look up at him. "We've got the rest of our lives for that..." He kisses you gently, just a peck before he guides you to your bathroom, turning the shower on to let it warm up and watching you stand in front of the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror as you remove the ribbons from your hair.

He comes behind you, wrapping his big arms around your naked body and pressing his own skin against your back, just kissing your shoulder and caressing your stomach and your sides, his touch gentle but still possessive.

"It's gonna be good, I think." You smile, looking at his reflection in the mirror, caressing his arms.

"What's gonna be good?" He smiles, looking at your reflection, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Spending the rest of our lives together." You say lovingly, and he chuckles.

"I couldn't make better plans myself." He kisses your neck before pulling back to check the water. "Come on. It's nice." He smiles at you, offering his hand, so you tie your hair up and join him.

He envelops you in his embrace, the warm and soothing water calming your muscles and soothing your mind as he gently washes your body, holding you with your back close to his chest, his touch feather light, careful around your most sensitive areas, and still your body jolts slightly when you feel his rough fingers.

Then you wash him too. His back, his neck, his chest, his stomach, his legs. He only doesn't let you wash his cock "To avoid not going straight to bed." According to him.

He wraps you in your towel and grabs one for himself. You both walk back into your room, and you put on a pair of pink pajamas with red hearts. He dresses something out of his backpack, just a plain t-shirt and some boxers.

You lay down and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest and caressing your hair.

"Promise I won't just wake up tomorrow and this is gonna have been a dream?" You whisper, and he smiles.

"Only if you promise me I won't wake up in the QZ without you again." He says.

"I promise." You whisper. "You're not going anywhere, and even if you went, I'd go with you... You're mine." You smile against his lips.

"I'd never take you out of here, my angel..." He says lovingly. "But I promise I'd always find my way back to you."

You kiss him again, a more simple and intimate kiss, the type of kiss that says a lot without doing much, and he holds you close with his large and warm hand on the nape of your neck, not wanting to lose your warmth just yet.

"I love you, Joel." You whisper again. You're never gonna get tired of repeating it.

"I love you, my angel... my baby... my..." He finishes with your name, his voice as soft as ever, and you nestle even closer to him, feeling safe, loved and happy in the arms of the man you longed for so many nights. Indulging in the warmth you missed so much, a warmth that no blanket could replicate as you shivered, falling asleep with his name on your lips and your eyes wet.

"Goodnight, Joel." You whisper against his chest.

"Goodnight, my angel." He whispers back, kissing your forehead and sighing in happiness. His chest full again for the first time in... Twenty years.

Finally!!!

Finally I was happy and proud of this, and finally it is yours! I'm once again so, so happy and so grateful for each and every single one of you who supported me through this year and a bit that I'm around here. This story is over a year old, which just comes to show how patient you all are and how much we love Joel Miller 🤧

I'm really honoured and happy to have received every message, every comment, every like and every reblog in this series. I hold it really kind to my heart (I wish I could show it to my friends) and having you to share it with means the world to me.

I love you all and I hope this met your expectations 🩷

See ya 🩷🎀

Tags:

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #dirty hands #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #ghostfanwriter

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gamercookies · 2 months ago

Text

Need help on what..?

Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: “fuckboy”!hyunie, virgin!y/n, a bit of fighting (word/physical), unprotected sex, dirty talk, spanking,fingering, grinding, use of “daddy”. Note: this is the most I spent writing lol, I will rarely write fanfics it’s been 3 months Might have a few misspellings. But I feel this is the best I’ve made in my opinion :3 Enjoy!!

Your enemy Hyunjin, whom you heard he’s a fuckboy, have been enemies for as long as you could remember. One day, you decided to swallowed your pride and approached him for help with a homework assignment, What could possibly go wrong if he comes over?

“H-hey.. Hyunjin?” You say with a shy smile.

“Ugh.. it’s you.. what do you want?!” He says in an irritated tone, but not loud to scare you.

“I was wondering.. if you can help me with a homework assignment. I’m a bit confused on the math, and I assume you must know an idea?”

Hyunjin scoffs and smirks a bit, “is there a catch? You’re always mad when I tease you and shit, why ask me when you can ask anyone else in this school?”

“Yeah but most of them don’t even know the basics of it.. but I have to ask you.. since you know it. Ugh.. whatever! but I need help so..please?”

“Please? …” He stays silent thinking for a moment. “Fine, whatever. Where should we meet up I guess..”

“I was wondering at my place later today, around 6PM?” You ask with a smile.

"Your place?" Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical about the arrangement. "Why not here or somewhere public? It seems like you're trying to trap me alone with you."

“Am not! I’m literally asking for homework help nothing else!” You say as you push him gently.

He stumbles back a bit, "But fine, whatever. I'll come to your place at 6 PM. Don't think this means I'm being “mr.nice guy” on you just because I’m helping you with the homework." His tone is playful yet assertive, but yet seducing.

“See you later then bitch.!” He yells from across the hall as he leaves, yet teasing you once more.

“H-hey! don’t call me that you asshole!” You yell back as you walk to the exit to start heading home.

….

At home, you arrive getting welcomed by your cat (you own one) and you pet its fur. “Aww you miss me? don’t worry I’m home. I’ll go and grab some food for you to eat.” You go to the kitchen cabinet and grab the cat food. Dumping some onto the cat bowl you slowly start thinking about hyunjin.. You tell yourself, “why am I thinking about that asshole, he’s a pain in the ass at most..?”

As you put the cat food away, you bend down to give the bowl, and placing it in front of your cat. You then head to your bedroom, all cozy, organized, your laptop well placed. Of course after a long day, and now that your cat is eating, you go take a shower. After 10 minutes later you walk out of the shower the cold breeze hitting your body. As you dry your hair, you head over to your desk, where your diary is and write a short note about today as always.

“February 17. Today was good, chatting with my friends as always.. But why did I have to ask hyunjin for homework help..”

As you go on writing about your day, you don’t realize you’re talking about Hyunjin’s body features. After 5 minutes you stop and read it once more, “what? Why am I writing about him.. fuck.. god why do I feel like I want him so badly.”

You get interrupted by the doorbell, you turn next to your diary and see the time. “6:02PM.” Hyunjin is here.. You didn’t even hear or realize the doorbell has been ringing 4 times. You quickly shut the diary running to the door, completely forgetting to hide it.

“Hey! I’m here, hopefully you ain’t doing makeup for no reason!” He yells as he continuously rings it.

You open the door, panting a bit from running, forgetting that you invited him for homework help not for another reason. “O-oh sorry I just wrote something real quick and completely forgot the time.” As you scratch the back of the neck nervously a bit. “Will you let me in? Or imma just be outside?”

“R-right sorry.. do you need any snacks or anything?” Hyunjin hears you explain if he’s hungry as he walks in, “No thanks, I didn’t come to kidnap some food, it was just homework help you said.”

“Yea.. right. Let’s head to my bedroom of course, it’s mainly where I do my homework.” As you close the front door, you led him the way to your bedroom.

“Tsk.. took you long enough to answer I assumed you weren’t home or anything. The fuck you were doing?” He says in an irritating tone, looking at around the room. “Goodness, it's surprisingly clean in here, I thought you never bothered tidying up.” You scoff and roll your eyes a bit, “Are you seriously mad at me for it being tidy?”

"Mad? Please." Hyunjin scoffs dismissively. "Don't flatter yourself, y/n. I couldn't care less how long you take."

He saunters further into the room, glancing around with a critical eye. "Just hurry up and show me this homework already. Let's get this over with so I can leave."

You shift uncomfortably under his intense stare as you pull a chair for him to sit down next to you, “Well this question over here.. can you show me how to answer it step-by-step?”

As he kept explaining it, you can’t help but secretly stare at him.. these feelings you feel, they aren’t hate, but more of love. But after an hour of homework help, you finish at last. Hyunjin on the other hand leans back and scoffs.

“An hour on all that? Really? That's all the time you needed for one simple math problem?

“Sorry it took long..it’s just that-” you say quietly.

He interrupts you, “Pathetic, I could do it in 5 minutes.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry!" You snap back defensively with irritation. As y/n stands up from her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, looking at him directly. "And maybe if you actually explained things properly instead of just showing off, it wouldn't take so long!"

Hyunjin's expression darkens at your outburst, his jaw clenched tight. For a moment, it seems like he might lunge at you, but then his features relax into a mocking grin.

"Oh, so now you're an expert on teaching methods, huh?" he drawls sarcastically. "Maybe I should start taking notes from Miss 'I-can't-even-do-math-right' over here."

He pushes his chair back and rises to his feet, towering over you. "Shut up, Hyunjin! Maybe it’s best you go home, out..!" You shout, getting angry at his words.

Hyunjin snorts derisively at your outburst, he suddenly pushes you back giving you no time to react, “H-hey what are you doing?!” You quickly say as you stumble back and your diary in which you forgot to hide it falls from the desk. “Oh, look who's getting feisty. Maybe I should teach you a lesson in manners too, since you seem to have forgotten yours." His hand shoots out, grabbing your chin roughly and forcing you to meet his piercing gaze. "You think you can just dismiss me after I helped you? Think again, y/n."

But then, he looks at the diary bending down to pick it up from the floor, with a smirk. “Oh what’s this? Hmm.. Let's see what juicy details you've been hiding in here, shall we?”, as he is flipping through its pages with a smug grin.

You stand up trying to retrieve the diary back with fear that he will reveal your new desire for him. “H-Hey give that back! It isn’t for you to read! Come on..! It’s my secret!”

Hyunjin chuckles darkly, holding the diary out of your reach. "Secrets are meant to be shared, aren't they, y/n? And I think I deserve to know what's really going on in that pretty little head of yours." He opens the diary to a random page, raises an eyebrow as he looks over the words, and starts to read out loud from the page. "..'he looks hot, I just wish Hyunjin would touch me...' Oh, how scandalous!"

He chuckles darkly, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Looks like someone has a crush on their bully. How pathetic."

You blush bright red, looking away in embarrassment "S-Shut up! It's not like that! I-I just wrote some random thoughts, okay?! You're making it sound worse than it is!" As you try to grab the diary back again. Hyunjin easily sidesteps your attempt to grab the diary, holding it high above his head,and laughs mockingly. "Random thoughts? I don't think so, y/n. This sounds suspiciously like a confession to me." He continues reading, his voice dripping with mockery. "'.. I wonder what it would be like if he kissed me...'" Hyunjin pauses, glancing at you with a wicked grin. "Face it, you want me. Admit it, you dirty little thing." As he tosses the diary aside, watching it land on the floor again with a soft thud.

Your cheeks feel like they're on fire as you attempt to reject those claims, completely embarrassed and vulnerable as Hyunjin mocks your innermost feelings, "I...I may find you attractive sometimes, okay?! But that doesn't mean I like you or anything! You're still a jerk!"

Hyunjin moves in a bit closer, getting into your personal space while grinning at you. "A jerk, huh? At least I’m upfront about how I feel about you, unlike those who hide their feelings in diaries." He gently runs a finger along your warm cheekbone, and even though you're mad, his touch makes you shiver. "You can pretend all you want, but deep down, you want me just as much as I want you, y/n."

You suddenly feel like you’re dripping down there. “Fuck.. I-”

Hyunjin notices the change in you and smirks, his eyes flicking down, "What's wrong, y/n? Getting excited by my touch?" He moves in even closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, "Or perhaps it's the idea of me kissing you, caressing you, that has you so stirred up."

Your face turns even redder as you try to step back, but your legs feel weak, causing you to stumble backwards onto the bed, sitting down awkwardly. "Oof! .. stop it! Don't say things like that! That’s not what-“ Hyunjin watches you stumble back onto the bed with amusement. He straddles your hips, pinning you beneath him as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear once more, “Don’t you want those fantasies of yours to come true~” He straddles you a bit, you can feel the bulge in his pants. “N-no.. I- fuck.. Wait, Are you hard?!.. damn it..” You cover your face in embarrassment.

Hyunjin grins wickedly at your reaction, his hardness pressing insistently against you. "Of course I am," he admits, his voice low and husky. "The sight of you, all flustered and blushing, it's incredibly arousing." He begins to grind against you slowly, relishing in your discomfort and arousal. "You can't deny the attraction between us anymore, y/n. We both want each other, whether we admit it or not."

You moan softly, feeling yourself get wetter as he grinds against you. "Hyunjin, please...stop teasing me..." Your hands move to his waist, gripping tightly as you try to resist the pleasure building inside you. “About earlier.. Maybe I really should teach you a lesson in manners too, maybe a couple of spanks, don’t you think?’”, he repeats the sentence he said before you guys argued. “Wait what?! You wouldn’t dare do that…plus, that’s a childish thing.”

Hyunjin’s hand slides down to grip your thigh possessively, squeezing firmly. "Oh, I would dare, y/n. In fact, I intend to do much more than just spank you."

He leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers huskily, "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me for more. And trust me, I plan to take my time exploring every inch of your delectable body until you're nothing but a quivering mess beneath me." “Hyunjin, stop talking like that...it's making me...ahh-" Your protest is cut off as he abruptly slaps your thigh, the sudden impact making you yelp. "Ow! What was that for?!" Hyunjin smirks at your pained expression, clearly amused by your reaction. "That was for your impudent mouth," he explains, his tone stern yet playful. "You shouldn't speak to me with such disrespect, especially when you're the one who's been fantasizing about me."

He flips you over that you’re now your back is facing him, especially your ass, without hesitation he gives another firm slap. "Now, are you going to apologize properly, or do I need to continue teaching you a lesson?"

“Ah~!”You moan, he spanks you the second time. “Fuck!.. fine you got me.. I’m sorry!”, He spanks you again, “ah~! Hyunjin!” which is making you dripping wet, feeling good from it. “Use ‘daddy’ instead of my name. Got it?” He takes off your shirt and then pulls down your pants and underwear, leaving you in just your bra. Hyunjin chuckles darkly at your submission, pleased by the way you're squirming under his touch. "Good girl, From now on, you address me as Daddy when we're alone together like this."

He trails his fingers along your hole, feeling the heat emanating from your core. "Mmm, seems like my little y/n is quite eager for more attention, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a response, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning at the tightness that grips them. "All that spanking got you turned on? Fuck.. wet already, You really are a naughty slut for Daddy's cock, aren't you?"

You moan loudly, bucking your hips against his fingers as he thrusts them in and out of you. "Ah! D-Daddy...fuck...yes...please..." Your words are a jumbled mix of pleasure and desperation as you surrender to the sensations coursing through your body. As he curls his fingers inside you, rubbing against that sensitive spot within, your walls clench around him reflexively.

"More...Daddy...I need more..." You whine. His free hand snakes around to palm your breast, tweaking the nipple through the fabric of your bra. "And look how hard these tits get when Daddy plays with you.” Hyunjin then unclasps your bra, letting your breasts hang free. “You love it, don't you? Such a greedy little cunt, begging for more~” Your nipples harden further under his touch, and you arch into him, desperate for more stimulation. "Yes, Daddy...I love it...please...more..." You pant heavily, your hips rocking against his hand as he continues to finger you relentlessly. “Please fuck me.. I- I need your cock in me.. just like my fantasies in my diary..!” You whine again.

“Patience girl.. you don’t wanna upset me and make me not give it to you.. you don’t want that, hmm?” As you turn over and sit up to face him with a pleading look.

“N-no not at all, I’ll be patient daddy! I promise!”

“Hmm.. get on your knees and prove to me that you need this cock in you.” With trembling hands, you quickly comply, dropping to your knees in front of him. Your eyes lock onto his throbbing erection, and you lick your lips in anticipation. "Go ahead, baby," Hyunjin coaxes, stroking himself slowly. "Show Daddy how much you crave his cock."

Emboldened by his encouragement, you lean forward and wrap your lips around the head of his dick, sucking gently. He lets out a low groan, his fingers tangling in your hair as you begin to bob your head, taking him deeper into your mouth with each pass. "Mmm, that's it...good girl," Hyunjin praises, his hips starting to rock subtly, fucking your mouth. "You're doing so well, I think it's time Daddy gave you what you've been begging for..."

“Yes please daddy! Rail me!” You say in excitement.

"Get on the bed and present yourself to me, like the good little slut you are." He says as he walks over to your presented body. “Perfect. Now, hold still while I prepare myself," he instructs, reaching for the lube on the nightstand. “I see you had lube.. interesting..” He gets interrupted by your whine, “Please hurry, I need it inside..! Please!” Hyunjin grabs your hips roughly, positioning himself behind you. He presses the tip of his cock against your slick entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. "Beg for it, slut." he growls, holding back from fully entering you. "Tell me how badly you need Daddy's cock stretching out this tight little cunt."

You plead desperately, wiggling your hips back against him in an attempt to impale yourself on his length. "I'm all yours, Daddy! Use me however you want!" Satisfied with your submissive display, Hyunjin grips your hips tighter and plunges deep inside you with one swift, powerful thrust. "Ungh, fuck...so tight," he groans, burying himself to the hilt. He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with relentless force. The bed creaks beneath you as he fucks you hard and fast, his heavy balls slapping against your hole with each rough stroke. "Take it, you dirty little whore," he snarls, his breath hot against your ear. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be used and filled by Daddy's big cock?"

"Ahh yes! Oh god, yes! Fill me up, Daddy! Use me!" You scream in ecstasy as he pounds into you mercilessly, your body shaking with each brutal thrust. Your inner walls clench tightly around his thick shaft, milking him greedily. "Harder! Faster! Break me with that huge cock!" Hyunjin's thrusts become even more savage, driven by your shameless begging. "You want it harder? Then take it, you insatiable slut!" He roars, slamming into you harshly. The room fills with the lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh, punctuated by your high-pitched moans and his guttural grunts.

Suddenly, he reaches around to pinch and twist your nipples harshly, sending jolts of pain-tinged pleasure through your body. "Cum for me, now!" he commands, his voice a feral growl. "Show Daddy how much you love being fucked raw!" “Hyunie.. cum with me, please! Fuck! fuck..! Im gonna..” With a few more erratic thrusts, he buries himself to the root and explodes, flooding your insides with his hot seed. "Take it all, you filthy cumslut!" he snarls, pumping load after load deep into your spasming hole.

Hyunjin collapses beside you, both of you panting heavily as you come down from the intense high of your shared climax. He pulls you close, spooning you from behind and nuzzling into your neck, “Wow.. you were amazing...”

“Yeah.. uhm.. are you a fuckboy? Is this just one time and then that’s it?” He laughs, “Me? A fuckboy? when did you hear that joke!” You look at him confused, “W-What..? You’re not..? Wow, I guess I must’ve not believe everything I hear.”

He leans to kiss you passionately, making you moan between it, after a moment he lets go panting a bit. “Was it really for homework or for me to use you?” “Well.. both. I don’t mind having you come over and help me~”

“Oh trust me, I think I’ll come over many times, you’re now my girlfriend, y/n, and you better continue writing those fantasies.”

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #skz hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids #Writercookies🎀

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makeyoumine69 · 5 months ago

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Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Seven—Patrick's POV)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: "Can I be any more delusional?" I asked myself when I heard the voices of the past inside my head.

CONTAINS: Smut, swearing, non-con elements, delusions, fantasizing, vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m), body worship, nipple play, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, manhandling, referring of rough loss of virginity and blood, toxic behavior, childhood trauma, dominance, dom/sub dynamics (Patrick is a soft!dom).

WORDS: 3k

A/N: Hello everyone! I am trying to keep up the pace with the updates and I hope you enjoy the new chapter as this one is special to me since I love writing Patrick's POV. Also, I'd like to thank everyone who supports my writing, I appreciate every comment you make and every like counts! I love you all!💗💖🙏💋 P.S. I highly recommend listening to this song while reading: Pastel Ghost — Shadows (slowed version).

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

At first I was surprised that I didn't hear any sounds behind the door—no crying, no protests, nothing, as if you had fainted or... died of a heart attack? I frowned at the thought, but perhaps it was for the best? Sighing, I opened my eyes and to my dismay, I was still here, in this fucking summer house. I was so tired, exhausted even.

Why did everything have to be so fucking complicated?

My jaw tickled as I looked down at my groin—I was still so hard and if you weren't there I could have solved this problem by now, probably had several orgasms and slept soundly in the room I had chosen for tonight. But no, that was not going to happen, because you were the biggest pain in the ass.

Fucking troublemaker.

This mocking nickname popped up in my mind out of nowhere, making my lungs burn with a twisted desire to sink deeper into the past, even though nostalgia was the last thing on earth I wanted to indulge in, but now, in my current state, I wanted to make myself remember something. Something deeply personal and complex. Something I was desperately trying to bury in my soulless flesh—what I was.

A soft, girlish voice called out to me. It was so loud I had to close my ears, but then someone's tiny hands covered my eyes. "Guess who?"

Paralyzed, I took a deep breath before reaching out to tickle the tender skin pressed against my face. When I heard a sonorous laugh, I recognized it almost immediately. "Becca?"

Involuntarily, I gasped in frustration as you removed your delicate palms from my face. "How are you doing this?"

"What?" I asked as I turned to face you.

"Guessing so easily," you murmured, smiling mischievously like a little vixen from the cartoons we both loved to watch. "My dad always struggles to recognize me..."

"He's just pretending," I cut you off, crossing my arms, my tone stern, though I enjoyed the way your eyebrows furrowed as my words offended you. "I knew it was you the moment you... touched me."

"Oh?"

"Yes, because you always do such things...stupid things."

For a brief moment, we both remained silent, and I used that pause to take in the surroundings, finding us in the backyard of the huge mansion that definitely belonged to my family.

"Patty," your voice sounded more like a whisper now, as if you were afraid of something...or someone...someone like me? "I have something for you."

With these words, you carefully slipped into the pockets of your blue jeans to reveal a small object that turned out to be a charm. A kitten charm, to be exact. Confused, I watched you hand me the charm and for a moment I didn't even know what to do.

"What is it?"

My reaction seemed to take you off guard, but you managed to keep a warm smile on your beautiful face. "I know it won't replace the one you had before," you looked away guiltily. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I lost that charm, but maybe... maybe you'll like this one? It's my favorite," you kept muttering and it started to irritate me, so I just snatched the little piece of plastic out of your trembling hands, making you stop talking for a dear moment. "My mom gave it to me after my first dentist appointment."

Chuckling in disbelief, I lifted the charm so the rays of the setting sun could illuminate it for a proper look. "Jeez," I grinned at how tense you were watching my reaction. "You're such a troublemaker. Always have been and always will be."

"Patrick..."

My lips curled up as I quickly turned and walked away in the direction of the large well my mother had always been fond of.

"Patrick! What are you doing?" I heard your concerned questions, which only spurred me on to go faster.

When I finally reached the well, I stopped at its rim and, with my dark eyes staring at you mockingly, I dropped the charm into the dark water of the well, the little echo of the splashing liquid bringing me delirious joy. The way your lips trembled when you realized what I had done made me laugh.

So pathetic.

"Why? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" You cried out, shimmering tears streaming down your cheeks. "I just... I just wanted to make things better... I just... wanted you to forgive me!"

Annoyed, I growled and leaned against the cold stones of the well. "Yeah, yeah, keep crying. What else can you do? Run to your mommy?"

And even though I expected you to say something else, I wasn't surprised when you clenched your fists and ran away from me—I didn't even try to follow you, not even a tiny part of me wanted to, I just couldn't see myself comforting you. There was no way I'd do that, you were a troublemaker who should have always known your place.

A barely audible wail brought me back to the present. I was still standing next to the bathroom door and just as I was about to leave this fucking room, I heard another muffled scream. Biting my lower lip, I sighed and almost hit the door, but instead of actually slamming it, I pressed my ear to hear more of your whimpering—it was like fuel for my ego and I needed it very much, maybe even too much. My dick was still so engorged it almost hurt and just then a dark thought crept into my mind.

What if I just open this door, rip off your clothes and fuck you silly?

The very idea made me shiver, bridging the wicked smile on my face from the notion that no one could even stop me in my intentions, considering we were alone in this huge house, no one would even manage to hear your pitiful cries for help when I finally got my hands on you. Yes, I would just walk in and grab your little trembling body and throw you to the floor, enjoying the way you would beg and scream for me to stop, but I would just laugh in your face.

Oh, I would. I definitely would.

And then I'd undo my robe and force you to suck me until you choked on my cock for ruining my fun—you would fucking pay your price for every second of it. Fuck, I wouldn't care if you bleed as I slam into your innocent pussy and you scream in pain, but you couldn't even imagine how much it would turn me on. Oh, no. You couldn't even imagine who you were trapped under the same roof with.

A dark, deep chuckle fell from my lips after I licked them in sweet anticipation, my slightly trembling hand was already on the doorknob, but as I was about to open it, I stopped when I heard your soft mumbling—you were trying to reassure yourself that everything would be all right—it was so pathetic of you, but it made me stop in my tracks. My eyebrows knitted together, I wanted to slap myself to shake off this strange feeling, it was something like a magic spell that was unknown to me. And now I still wanted to open the damn door in front of me, but instead of actually taking you against your will, I wanted... I wanted to see the longing in your big, beautiful eyes. Longing, not contempt. And that shift in my mind was crucial. It was terrifying.

The sound of the door clicking echoed in my head as I cautiously stepped into the bathroom to find you sitting on the floor wearing nothing but those fucking pink cheesy socks I hated so much, but now I finally understood why I hated them so much—it was because they turned me on like no porn magazine could—now everything seemed to fall into place.

"Patty," you purred and crawled over to me, almost rubbing against my leg like a kitten starved for touch. "You came."

I grinned and hummed, reaching out to pat your head. "Yes, Dove...I'm here."

Dove?! Oh, my fucking God! Did I really remember what I used to call you?

The look you gave me was captivating, so full of devotion, it was exactly what I needed, exactly what I had always longed for. Slowly, I lowered my palm and gently stroked your cheek, still wet from your tears, while your elegant hands played with the knot of my robe.

"Oh, you are such a cute little plaything, aren't you?" I asked, lifting your chin so that our eyes locked. "So needy for me already?"

You nuzzled against my palm and did so, I watched as you carefully tugged at the knot that was then loose enough to open my robe and I couldn't help but groan as my erection sprang up and you wrapped your little hand around it almost instantly. You were unnaturally bold and confident in your actions, which was nothing more than an obvious sign that this was all just my imagination, but I didn't care. Now you were mine and that was all that mattered.

All the while you were licking the tip of my cock, now red and swollen from your touch, I could feel the warmth of your tongue and it drove me crazy as you used it so skillfully that I almost cummed right here and now into your inviting mouth.

"Patty," you used that nickname again and I had to stifle a moan. "Will you forgive me...now?"

My eyes were half open when you asked me this, and I couldn't care less about answering, but your pleading glance stirred something in me. "I...uh..." I paused to find the right words, for the first damn time in my life, and then stopped you, wanting your full attention. "Listen to me very carefully, Dove. You're not guilty and you never were...you don't need to be forgiven."

You stared at me without blinking, as if I were a god coming to the altar you worshiped at, and I could swear I'd never seen anyone look at me like that—those eyes so full of devotion would haunt me all my life—if only I didn't try to run away from it. If only I knew that I had been running in circles all this time.

"Kiss me." You said it without any doubt in your sweet voice.

And I obeyed, as if those two words were a secret code that only you knew. I approached your beautiful face, pressed my lips to yours, my hand found its rest in the back of your head and gently brought you closer. Those little obscene sounds you made during the kiss were stunning, they took me far away from here, to the place where there was no pain and sadness, but happiness and love.

I wish that place really existed.

As the making out intensified and my control faded away, I couldn't think straight, so I gave in to the rush led by my primal instincts. With practiced ease, I picked you up and moved to the nearest bathroom counter. Carefully, I placed you on it, your legs spread open for me so that I could settle comfortably between them before you wrapped them around my lower back and pressed against me, your hard nipples grinding against my chest.

"A-ahh," you mewled as I nipped at your neck, throwing your head back to give me more space to worship. "I missed you so much...please, never leave me again."

"I won't," I huffed against your throat as I peppered your soft skin with light pecks before drawing down to your collarbone, leaving a wet hickey here and there. "You...are mine...all mine!" I literally grunted as I squeezed and massaged the soft mounds of your breasts, feeling the weight of them, enjoying their tautness. "Fuck, you have such perfect tits..."

With that, I squashed your tits in a way that allowed me to suck both of your hard peaks at the same time, driving you completely numb, your breathing uneven and rapid, your hands desperately clutching at me for support, and I didn't falter in what I was doing, as your moans were the best prize.

"Pat-Patrick," you clung to my shoulders, arching your back. " Are you going to eat me out?"

God, you sound so hot when you talk like that.

"Is that what you want?" You nodded, but I just chuckled. "Use your words, honey," I crouched down a bit and ran my finger over your belly, going lower to tease the top of your mound. "Is that what you want?" I grinned, drawing out the words on purpose because I wanted you to beg for me. "Hmmm?"

"Yes!" You shivered impatiently and gripped the edge of the counter. "Please..."

"Good girl."

My hands rested possessively on your hips as I knelt before you, my hot breath tickling the soft flesh between your legs, and as I swiped my flat tongue along your blushing clit, I could feel you falling apart under my touch.

"Mmh-hhmm, Patty," you squeaked as I slurped at your soaped pussy. "I've been craving this... for so long."

Pleased with how responsive you were, I tugged on your little bud and then grazed it a bit, coaxing a loud moan from your plump lips. "I know, babe, I know," I replied, raising my hands to cup your ass. "But now you have it...you have all...of me," my own voice wavered with excitement as I teetered on the edge of going completely insane. "Fuck, you're so tasty," I sucked on your little tip and closed my eyes, drinking all your fluids and moaning against your cunt as I waited as long as you did. " I'm gonna fuck you now," I gave your butt a quick squeeze, went back to the previous position between your legs and the next moment I was already pocking at your wet entrance. "Look at me."

"I..." you stuttered as I grabbed your neck and forced you to look at me. "Patrick, I'm..."

"No, you're not a virgin anymore," I said, pushing myself all the way in. I groaned from the tightness and warmth of your inner walls that enveloped me so deliciously. "I've fucked you so many times before...don't you remember?"

Whimpering, you clasped my shoulders with your trembling hands. "It's...s-so big!"

"Right." I snickered arrogantly, but gave you some time to get used to it.

Just like the first time.

I leaned forward a little so our foreheads were pressed together and began to thrust into you at a steady pace, your legs closed around me in a tight ring. It felt so good, too good even for a fantasy. The sounds of our bodies colliding filled the bathroom and then I finally let go of your throat and let you hide your face in my neck. You were so vulnerable, so malleable, so hot and wet.

Perfect.

"Ohhh-God," your urgent cry hit me like an electric shock. "I can...f-feel you so deeply!"

(NSFW art by @somnolenthour!)

"Arh-fuck," I groaned and pulled out of you, only to lift you up and lower you back onto my pulsating shaft. "You love this, don't you? You love...feeling every inch of me...you love when I fuck you...like this..." my thrusting was restless, I could feel my orgasm building in the base of my balls. "...because you...belong to me."

"Patrick...put me down...I'm too heavy," you mumbled suddenly, grabbing my arms. "I don't want...you to get tired."

A loud chuckle rumbled from my chest. "You weigh nothing, Dove," I pecked at your trembling lips and wrapped my hands even tighter around you, fucking you in the air. "Don't...worry about me."

As if the current closeness was not enough, you snuggled into my frame and kissed me with all the strength, desperation and passion you had. This cocktail made me weak in the knees, but I kept going, ramming into you with full force. I wanted to make sure you felt the curve of my dick rubbing against your most sensitive spot as I tried to maintain the best angle for that.

As I was about to combust from the inside out, I closed my eyes, only to open them again as I realized I was losing my grip on...you. Almost breathless, I blinked several times, still unable to believe that the perfect illusion I had created was dissolving. Frustrated, I leaned against the door, literally on the verge of tears when I heard your voice, the real one.

"I'm sorry, okay?" you rumbled through the closed door. "I'm sorry that...I'm not Courtney or Bethany or whatever hardbody you used to have...I'm sorry, I hit you, it was just an instinctive reaction since my dad used to..." you paused and sighed, I could feel the pain in your intonation. "Just let me out...and…I'll clean your wound. Patty!"

When you used that nickname, I knew it was on purpose, as if you were trying to reach my soul, hidden under a thick layer of ice and darkness, which became my faceless mask and my burden, a burden I would live with until the last day of my life.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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smuttykdrama · 1 year ago

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[Hyunsu & Chanyoung as Subs ; SWEET HOME]

Hi, this is my first smut drabble and first post so please be kind! also note that i've only watched through sweet home once! i've just finished the second season lol. ><

Warnings: smut, sub!hyunsu & chanyoung, dom!reader, female!reader, masochism, only read if you're eighteen or above.

This is written with an older reader in mind, with hyunsu being 19, the reader being 29, and chanyoung being 25. Forgive my HUGE noona kink. 🥲 Even tho I'm only 22 lol.

Hyunsu

● Sub!Hyunsu, who only wants to please you, his noona, regardless of his own pleasure.

● Sub!Hyunsu who eats you out like you're a goddamn five course meal, savouring every part of you because you're his everything. The only light in his world.

● Sub!Hyunsu, who needs your praise like it's a drug. He's sadly very insecure, constantly worried that he's not doing well enough or that his body isn't good enough for you. You'd soon change those ridiculous thoughts of his.

● Sub!Hyunsu who is a sweet and caring boyfriend in the day, but a masochistic freak at night. You definitely take advantage of his healing abilities, allowing you to make Hyunsu's body your canvas. Scratches down his back, his front. Biting his chest, teasing him, and testing his pain tolerance.

● Sub!Hyunsu, who, after being in captivity and chained up, wants nothing more than to replace those memories with YOU. Tie him to the bedpost, put a hard metal collar around his neck. Anything to forget those painful times...and make new memories with you.

● Sub!Hyunsu who literally hate fucks you. Not because he's mad at you. But at himself. You know when he's depressed, because he shoves you onto the bed and buries his cock in your tight heat without warning. "Sorry, Noona...i really need you right now...i don't want to talk...i just need you."

● Sub! Hyunsu who gives you the best aftercare, even if he's the one who's all fucked out after a session. He'll even go out of his way to explore the city just to find a scented candle to light for you.

● Sub!Hyunsu who's monster wants you too, having felt just how satisfied Hyunsu was with you.

Chanyoung

● Sub!Chanyoung, who's a complete virgin when you first meet him, and he's unable to meet your gaze when you sleep together for the first time.

● Sub!Chanyoung who is so overstimulated the moment your pussy clenches around him that he doesn't know what to do with his hands other than clutch the pillow as you ride him.

● Sub!Chanyoung who loves being bossed around in bed, and being told what to do. Want him to fuck you like you're unbreakable? Got it. Want to finger him until hes a blushing mess beneath you? Done! He lives to be your living, breathing sex toy.

● Sub!Chanyoung who keeps his uniform on while he eats you out, having just come back from a mission outside the stadium, knowing about your soldier kink. He looks just so handsome in it, but oh so much prettier with it off.

● Sub!Chanyoung whos thighs and lower abdomen are the most sensitive parts of his body. The moment you start leaving hickeys on his thighs or tracing the lines of his abs, Chanyoung goes crazy. "Not there, jagiya...i'll go crazy."

● Sub!Chanyoung who kneels at your feet after a long day, practically begging to bed you, looking up at you with his puppy like eyes.

● Sub!Chanyoung who is so drunk on your kisses, that he could come in his pants from the mere sensation of your lips on his.

● Sub!Chanyoung who can't believe that even after the world went to shit, he still has you to look after him. He may be your protector, but really, you're the one who saved him.

[END]

(A/N): Wow first smut headcanons!! I am here totally for the Hyunsu switch & Chanyoung sub agenda. Please like and leave a comment/reblog if you liked ^^ Let me know what Sweet Home Hyunsu & Chanyoung reaction you'd like next! I currently only write for those 2 characters :)

#sweet home #sweet home imagine #sweet home x reader #chanyoung x reader #cha hyunsu #hyunsu x reader #sweet home smut #smut #x reader #dom!reader #sub!character #kdrama smut #kdrama imagine #kdrama x reader

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ironstrange1991 · 1 year ago

Text

Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The reader and Stephen are students at Kamar Taj and when she needs his help with her exams, Stephen makes her an indecent offer.

Word Count: 6,5k

Warnings: SMUT: Dubcon, hate sex (at least in the beggining), handjob, oral sex with male receiving, forced (?) deep throat, umprotected p n v, lost of virginity, mentions of pain and blood, forced (?) creampie.

A/N: It took me a while to finish this fic, but I'm very happy with the result. Hope you like it.

You had been a student at Kamar Taj for no more than a few months when the new guy arrived. You were in the hall and even served him tea at the time, then you left letting the Ancient One and Master Mordo speak to him. However, of course you were peeking behind the curtains listening to the entire conversation. You saw the disrespectful and absurd way in which he addressed the Ancient One and you also saw how she, with all her power and somewhat sadistic humor, put him in his place.

You spent that day studying the old books that Wong had recommended for you and as you did so you heard the incessant knocking on the door and the shouts of "Let me in" or "I have nowhere to go." The situation was funny at first because like the Ancient One, you also had a certain sadistic side, but after hours of that incessant whining you started to feel sorry for the man. He was kinda cute.

When he was allowed to join you and become a student of the mystic arts you decided that you would not make his life easy. Whenever you could, you teased him for being the new guy, for being the guy whose hands could barely conjure mere sparks. During training in the courtyard, The Ancient One always had the two of you train together and you didn't take it easy on him. You might be small, but you were agile. He on the other hand was tall, had a well defined body, not too thin, very muscular, but was extremely slow. Apparently all the years of being an arrogant rich guy had made him soft and you liked seeing him lying on the floor whenever you got the chance.

"Y/n, no messing around. Grab your relics and get into fighting stance." Master Mordo instructed in one of the training afternoons and you chose one of the relics, but when the new guy went to get his, you slapped his hand making him look at you with a mixture of surprise and irritation. He was very handsome when he was angry, his blue eyes darkening with the fury he tried to contain. Wounded pride showing in every line of his furrowed brow.

"You don't deserve a relic yet, old man."

He ran his tongue across the corner of his cheek, clearly annoyed, but decided to play along. "I already told you my name is Stephen Strange."

You shrugged, getting into a fighting stance. "And I already said I don't care. Now be less miserable and conjure a weapon, so I'll feel less bad when I hit you."

He chuckled nervously, making a valiant effort to conjure something that could barely be described as a weapon, but it would have to do because you quickly went in for a blow that he reasonably defended himself from.

You smiled mischievously "You're getting better. I've always believed it's possible to learn through pain."

He clearly didn't like your comment, because he struck a blow at you that you barely have time to defend yourself by creating a shield.

"You don't know anything about my pain." He spat out the words.

Apparently you had hit a nerve. Excellent.

Your relationship with Strange didn't changed much beyond that for a long time, but you liked to think that somehow you were growing inside him, because he was always close even when you didn't necessarily need to be together. Like in the library.

It was as if he always knew the exact time you were in the library and would go there and steal books that were clearly not allowed for someone of his level. Not even at your level.

"You're going to end up with your head in a bucket over this." You said one of those nights while reading under the light of a single candle at the farthest desk in the library.

"Only if you tell on me." He responded, bringing the book under his arm and coming towards you. He threw the heavy book on the table and smiled arrogantly at you. When you looked at the book your eyes widened in complete amazement.

"This book belongs to the Ancient One's collection, are you crazy?"

He pulled out a chair and sat at the desk with you. "Wong said no knowledge is prohibited at Kamar Taj."

You rolled your eyes "Yes, I know that speech, it was exactly that that led Kaecilius to perdition."

Strange stared at you and then at the book. "So this is the book that was stolen."

"If it's in your hand, it's obvious that it wasn't stolen. Only a spell was removed from it. An evil spell that neither you nor I have the slightest idea of what it does."

But it was useless, every word of warning seemed to instigate the man even more. You had been around Strange long enough to know that he was hard-headed and when he put something in his head no one could take it away.

You closed the book you were reading and levitated it to the shelf by moving little more than your fingertips.

"Show off." He scolded as he flipped through the forbidden book.

"If you allow me, I will leave before you do something that’ll get us killed, or worse, expelled."

With that he smiled widely, that must have been the first time you saw him smiling, at least for you.

"Did you just quote Harry Potter? How old are you, twelve?"

You shrugged. "I'm 21 in two weeks, I'll take a gift." You said walking down the hall.

As days went by, it became increasingly clear to you that all that provocation had a much deeper meaning than you wanted to admit. You've never been with a man, in fact you've never even been interested in a man. Your life has always been studying and after you were orphaned after a car accident that killed your parents and almost killed you, you felt lost in the world and found out about Kamar Taj and dedicated yourself one hundred percent to it. That's what you always do, you find a source of interest, become completely obsessed and devote yourself to it until you learn everything you can from it and then move on to another obsession. At that point you were already recognizing the pattern and wondering how far you could go with that obsession with Strange when teasing or pestering him during training seemed to not be enough anymore.

You started teasing him in other ways, wearing robes that were tighter than necessary, shorts and tank tops that were smaller and shorter than allowed, all so he could get a good look at what he was missing. That is, of course, if he had any interest in you in the same way that you had in him. To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Provoking him was easy, but seducing wasn't exactly an area you had mastered.

The day before your birthday you were in the kitchen stealing what was left of your cake frosting when Strange caught you in the act. You were only wearing skimpy pajama shorts and a top that barely covered your breasts and bent over as you were, half of your body inside the fridge, you could imagine the image Stephen had of your ass.

"You should be embarrassed." His baritone voice came from behind you and in shock you hit your head on the top of the fridge which made him laugh. That laugh was something new and the way it made your stomach flutter was new too.

You took the pot out of the fridge, but left the door open, illuminating the dark kitchen with a beam of yellow light.

"It's my cake, my birthday, I have the right." You responded by sticking your index finger into the bowl and scooping out a little more of the icing and sticking it in your mouth teasingly taking it out with a loud pop.

You could see him swallowing thickly, his eyes getting darker with what you didn't quite know what it was.

"I'm referring to walking around the Kamar Taj dressed like that."

You shrugged "It's hot in Kathmandu." You made sure to smile mischievously at him. "After all, what are you doing walking around the Kamar Taj at this hour, Strange?" You questioned as if you had any right to it.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I can't sleep. My hands are hurting more than usual."

You looked at him for a second, still leaning against the sink with the glass bowl in your hand, trying to think of what to say to him, but ended up opting for the easiest answer.

"You don't expect me to take pity on you and offer to massage your hands or something, right?" You tried to sound sarcastic, but since there was some truth in your suggestion, your voice sounded softer than you would have liked.

"I don't want pity, but a massage would be nice."

“Fuck off” You replied, turning around to put the bowl in the sink and wash your hands, but mostly to hide how red your cheeks had gotten.

He sighed, getting up and mumbling a good night and leaving the kitchen and you stood there wondering if he was really serious or not. In any case, that was absurd, you both didn't have that kind of intimacy.

You ended up as usual in the library, finishing the last chapters of the book that you needed to finish for the end of the year exams. When you joined Kamar Taj, you didn't realize how much theory you would have to learn, you always thought it would be more practice than books and exams, but things weren't exactly as you imagined and you weren't as good at theory as you were in practice. Your memory wasn't like Strange's. The bastard could memorize an entire book in that deranged brain of his, you could barely memorize your own notes. Clearly there was a bargaining chip there, you thought ironically. I massage his hands and he help me study.

You chuckled to yourself thinking how absurd the idea was, but as you read the endless pages of the book that confused you more than clarified the subject, the more tempted you became to actually make the offer to Strange. The best you could get for an answer was no, right?

Finally, you gave up on your studies and put the books back on the shelves and left the library towards the dorms, you were still deciding between going straight to your dorm or knocking on Strange's door when you heard a sound coming from his room. You stopped in front of the door, your hand on the doorknob waiting and then you heard it again, a groan. He must have really been in a lot of pain to be groaning like that. You even felt bad about the way you spoke to him in the kitchen earlier.

You gave up knocking and simply turned the handle and to your surprise the door opened. It was dark inside, but the little light coming from the window made it clear as day what he was actually doing or trying to do and before he noticed your presence another groan escaped his lips followed by a curse "Damn hands. "

You swallowed heavily and closed the door behind you and only then did he notice your presence.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked completely defensively, adjusting himself in the small chair at the desk that could barely contain his entire size in it. At the same time he removed his hand from inside his boxers, but there was an erection there so obvious that the white fabric did little to hide.

"I came to make you an offer, but since you're busy I can come back another time." You answered turning around to leave.

He groaned and in that sound you could feel a little frustration, a little irritation and also some curiosity. “Wait.”

He snapped his fingers and some light bulbs came on. "If you tell anyone what you saw here, I swear I'll kill you." He threatened.

You smirked, "Threatening to kill me isn't the best thing you can do to keep my mouth shut. It's actually the worst thing, since we both know you're no match for me in combat."

He raised an eyebrow challenging you. "I've evolved a lot since I got here, Y/n, don't underestimate me."

You shrugged. "I'm not here to fight, Strange. I came to ask for help with my studies. You know my exams are coming up and I'm not as good in theory as I am in practice. If I do poorly in the exams, The Ancient One won't let me participate in the advanced spell training and I'm really excited to get started...”

"Let me get this straight. You're asking for my help? Is that right?"

You walked over to him and sat on the bed, crossing your arms dramatically. "Unfortunately it's my only option."

He shifted again in his chair and you couldn't help but notice that thing between his legs.

"So... what do you say?"

"I could help you. The question is whether I want to or not. Let's think about it for a minute. Since I got here you have dedicated yourself to make my life really hard. You are an insufferable brat, you are rude... "

"Okay, I understand. Where are you going with this? Are you going to help me or not?"

Strange smiled mischievously as if suddenly some brilliant idea had crossed his mind. "It will depend on what you’ll give me in return."

Something about that smile made the heat rise to your cheeks again and you swallowed thickly.

"You mentioned early in the kitchen that your hands were hurting. I thought… maybe you wanted a massage or something." Your voice became lower and lower and by the end of the sentence it was almost a whisper.

He hummed, "Something like that." He replied and then sighed heavily.

"Do you know what the big problem with my hands is? I can't jerk off"

You looked at him, completely shocked that he was saying that to you, but you supposed that after teasing him for all that time, he didn't exactly have much respect for you, especially because he must have already noticed that you maintained a certain interest in him.

"And tonight, after you were showing off that ass of yours for me in the kitchen I really needed to jerk off."

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"You tease me and tease me, but you don't offer anything in return. You keep wearing these indecent clothes and I know it's not because of the heat, but because you want me to look at you. You call me an old man, but I know you love how old I am. So spare me that innocent face of yours because I know you're not innocent."

Actually, you were, but you didn't tell him that. You had never been with a man. Some heated kisses, yes, some touching and teasing, but nothing more than that. The problem was that you played your role too well.

"Are you going to help me or not?" You mumbled.

"Come here." He asked and you hesitated for a moment, but then you gave in and slowly walked towards him, stopping in front of him, waiting for what he would say next.

"I don't want a massage. I need your hands to jerk off. In other words, I want a handjob. A really good handjob and depending on how good it is I might be good and help you pass those exams."

You chewed on your lip. There was a part of you that liked the idea of being intimate with him like that, but another much more conscious part knew how wrong it was. You weren't comfortable with that situation.

"And how exactly is a really good handjob? I need to know my chances here if I'm going to do this."

He smirked. "Let me see your hands. Palms up."

You obeyed.

"They're small, which means you'll have to use both at the same time because, as you can see..." He brought his hands to the sides of his boxers and in a quick movement they were on his knee, freeing his huge dick. "It's very big."

"You're an arrogant idiot, you know that?" You mumbled, unable to hold your tongue in your mouth.

He grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his cock and instinctively you wrapped it around him and it felt so warm and so hard, you didn't imagine it was that hard.

"Come on, you know what to do!" He said, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.

You knelt down to his height and moved your hand up and down, but clearly something was wrong. "Shouldn't it be wet?" You asked innocently, to which he let out a small chuckle.

"Yeah, I don't have lube. You'll need to use your own spit."

You looked at him in surprise, but he clearly understood your reaction as disgust.

He sighed dramatically, held his own cock by the base and spat on it and then moved his trembling hand spreading the saliva over the entire length. "There. It's wet now."

You grabbed him, determined to end it once and for all. From what you knew, he hadn't had sex for a long time and if you did it right he wouldn't last long.

You started to pump him up and down quickly, but contrary to your plans, he held your hand "Slow down, I want to enjoy myself for a bit."

You sighed doing what he wanted, you used both hands to stroke him slowly making sure to rotate your hands on the way down and making sure to touch his head on the way up. It was your first time doing that, but you weren't a saint, you had already watched porn and remembered some things and by the way he started to squirm, barely able to stay still in the chair, you could tell you were doing something right.

He started to moan too, at first low and then louder and soon some words began to escape his lips as if he was unable to contain them.

"Fuck Y/n, you really know what you're doing, don't you? Oh I missed this, it's been so long!"

You couldn't hide from yourself that his words seemed to move you, it was almost as if you could feel a warmth in your chest, a surge of pride at being praised by him and more than that, you felt your panties getting wet.

There was no point trying to hide that you were enjoying this. Deep down you always imagined yourself in some kind of erotic scenario with Strange. Alone in your small room, you found yourself thinking about him and he was right, you teased him to try to get some reaction from him. You just never imagined things would happen this way, but you were too involved in it to care.

You watched in delight as how much of that sticky liquid came out of his tip the more you stimulated him, and you also realized that you liked the noises that your hands jerking him made, not to mention his moans that got louder and louder. The next thing you knew, you were squeezing your thighs together and he only didn't notice because he had leaned his head back and kept his eyes closed, but when an involuntary moan escaped your lips he looked at you intently with a grin in his lips.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? You dirty little brat!"

You couldn't maintain eye contact with him, so you kept your eyes on his cock, noticing every vein, every detail of that cock that was the first one you had the chance to see up close.

You spat on his cock and continued your work without responding to his provocation, but he wasn't willing to let it go.

"Look at me."

You did what he asked somewhat reluctantly.

"I want your mouth, sweetheart."

You looked at him in surprise, not because of what he asked, but because of the way he referred to you and especially because of how it made you feel.

"I... I don't know how to do it." You replied and he smirked.

"I find that hard to believe."

You looked away feeling your face even hotter. Was it really possible that you had played your role so well that you managed to make the man you were interested in believe you were a whore? You were not. You weren't even close to that, but now it was too late to try to change his opinion about you.

"Tell me how you like it." You asked, disguising your inexperience.

"Deep in the throat. That's how I like it. But I'll take what you give me. Just use this mouth of yours for something more productive than talking shit."

You were slightly offended and bothered by the way he was treating you. Despite everything, in your fantasies he was always kind, but you tried not to let that show and opened your mouth as much as you could and he stuck his head in and instinctively reached his hand up to your head and grabbed a handful of your hair. "Use your tongue, swirl it in the head."

You did exactly as he asked and felt his hold on your hair tighten. He started to push your head down, forcing you to take him deeper and deeper until you gagged and tears ran down your face.

"That's how I like it." He took his cock out of your mouth and held your chin making you look at him. "There's nothing like a good cock to tame a brat, right sweetheart?"

You swallowed the saliva you had gathered in your mouth and nodded obediently.

"You can take a little more, can't you?"

You nodded.

"Good girl. Open your mouth really wide, I'm going to go deeper this time, okay?"

You just nodded again, apparently that was all you could do, obey his commands even if you didn't agree with them. You felt as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, entering your throat until you could no longer breathe. Automatically you grabbed his thighs and started pushing to try to get away from him, but he didn't let you go.

"It's okay. Just breathe through your nose" He cooed. You had never heard that tone of voice from him, at least not when he was talking to you, but a part of you liked it.

You did as he ordered, but the sensation was no less uncomfortable when you felt him going down your throat. Your gag reflex was horrible and soon you were crying profusely as streams of saliva ran down your mouth as he continued thrusting against your throat.

"Look at you, you're crying on my dick, sweetheart. Do you have any idea how beautiful this is?"

You pushed his thigh again and tried to lift your head and this time he allowed it.

He continued holding your hair though and wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"Not such a bully now, are you?"

You were feeling overwhelmed, your voice refused to come out and there was a secret part inside you that was loving the feeling of being used, even when you knew deep down that it was wrong.

He stood up and pulled you up too. "Let's make a deal. I'll touch you now and if you're dry I'll let you finish with the handjob and we'll stop here..."

You stared at him, fully aware of the mess that was between your legs.

He smirked, pleased with your reaction and continued explaining "...but if you're wet... Oh sweetheart, if you're wet, I'll fucking ruin you."

When his hand slipped into your shorts and panties your legs were shaking and could barely support you standing. You knew you should tell him the truth, that you should stop it while there was still time, but you couldn't. You were paralyzed. Physically your body was having positive reactions, you were soaking wet between your legs, you were ready to take him. But mentally you were a mess. This wasn't what you imagined for your first time. It wasn't how it should be.

"Oh I knew it! I could smell it on you. Your arousal... such a sweet smell."

You placed your hand over his hand "Strange... I don't know..."

"Shhh, it's okay. I think you can call me Stephen now."

He moved his middle finger through your folds and circled your clit making your hips move involuntarily against his hand. He brought his face closer to yours and for a minute you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he whispered in your ear. "You always wanted this, right? All the teasing was because you wanted me. I bet you've already touch yourself thinking about me, haven't you?"

You didn't respond, but when he took two fingers inside you, you winced feeling a sting deep inside. He didn't seem to notice.

"Tell me." He insisted.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I always wanted you." You whined.

He hummed "I'm here now. I'm going to give you what you've always wanted."

With that he bent you over the desk and pulled your shorts and panties down to your knees and you could hear him spitting into his hand.

"Stephen...w-wait..."

He spread his saliva at your entrance and you clung as best you could to the edges of the small wooden desk bracing yourself for what was to come.

He didn't say anything, he just buried himself inside of you with a strong, firm thrust and it was done. All the fantasies, all the expectations around it disappeared in a second, giving way to pain, a tearing sting that brought tears to your eyes, but you didn't make a sound.

He groaned in pleasure, but in confusion too and then stopped altogether. When he spoke again his voice sounded low and slightly nervous.

"Were you a fucking virgin? Really?"

You let out the breath you were holding in small puffs, "I t-tried to tell you."

He pulled out and turned you around to face him. "You didn't tell me shit. How was I supposed to know?!"

You wiped the tears from your eyes "It's no big deal okay? I should have resolved this a long time ago, I just never found..." You bit your tongue before you said too much. You had already given him too much power over you that night.

Stephen ran a hand nervously through his mouth. "We'd better stop this here." He stated, but you held his hand.

"Stephen... it's no big deal. I want this. Just... do it."

He held your face between his huge, shaking hands and stared into your eyes and you could see all the certainty in him slipping away but you had to keep going. If you stopped now it would be too humiliating.

"Stephen, please." You whispered.

"You stupid little brat!" Stephen said with a heavy sigh and then kissed you. An angry and desperate kiss. A clash of lips, tongues and teeth mixed with the hums that escaped your throats.

In one quick movement he picked you up, bride style, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

"What are you doing?"

He walked over to his bed and laid you carefully on the pillows.

"If we're going to do this, sweetheart, let's do it right."

You watched as he got rid of his tee and found yourself analyzing every inch of his body. He was so beautiful, his defined chest and abdomen, his strong arms, his hands... you lost count of how many times you stared at his hands while your mind conjured up the dirtiest scenarios possible.

"Like what you see?" He asked arrogantly and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, it was stronger than you. "If I didn't like it I wouldn't be here."

"I thought you were here to offer me a deal." He smirked grabbing your shorts and panties that were still tangled around your knees and pulling them off. He threw them on the floor, staring at you with a damn arrogant smile on his lips. "Give up being a brat, this behavior doesn't suit virgins."

You felt the heat returning to your cheeks, but you didn't have time to think of a response because he climbed onto the bed and came on top of you, your legs parted so he could settle between them and before you could understand what he was doing, his lips were on your belly as he lifted the tank top you were wearing and continued his assault on your skin. He kissed and bit you while lifting your top exposing your breasts. He caught your nipple in his mouth, sucking it with newfound passion. A low moan escaped your lips while he did it and you moved your hips up involuntarily. He hummed pleased with your response.

"Stephen...please."

He moved his lips up to your neck, sucking a bruise on your sensitive skin. The touch of his goatee making your entire body shiver. He continued moving his mouth up, nibbling on your earlobe, breathing heavily into your ear on purpose while grinding his hard dick against your uncovered pussy.

"Tell me what you want." He whispered.

But instead of answering him, you surrendered to your fear and asked. "Will it hurt more?"

He cupped your face. "The worst part is over, but I'll take it slow now, I promise."

You shook your head. "No. Just do whatever you have to do until you make me feel good."

He grabbed your chin with more force than you would expect and used his other hand to direct his cock to your entrance and kissed you as he entered you again, going all the way in. You felt the same sting deep in your belly, but it hurt less this time, however the discomfort of having him inside you was something you still needed to get used to. He was big and even though he wasn’t moving you could feel his dick pulsing inside you. It was an strange sensation.

"Now move with me." He asked, grabbing your thigh and wrapping your leg around his waist and with that going even deeper. The movements began, he thrusted slowly but hard and you clung to him, your arms wrapped around his torso, nails biting against the skin of his back as you tried to imitate his movements.

The whole time his lips didn't leave your lips, your chin, your neck. He kissed and bit everywhere he could reach and in between his kisses he let out moans and groans and little praises.

"Oh fuck, this little virgin pussy feels so good... so tight."

You didn't imagined how much of the sexual response was much more physiological than a conscious thing. Before you even knew it your body was moving beneath his with much more desire and the pain and discomfort were replaced by a type of pleasure that was much stronger than the one you got when touching yourself in your room. Each thrust from Stephen triggered a new wave of desire and suddenly what he was giving you didn't seem to be enough, you wanted him all inside you, you wanted him to merge with you until it was no longer possible to know where one ended and the other began.

"Oh my god... it feels so good." You moaned against his lips as you wrapped both legs around his waist, crossing your feet behind his back and trapping him there.

"Yeah? My cock feels good inside you. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

“Uh hum” was all you could respond, but it was enough to inflate Stephen’s ego even more and he groaned loudly in response, gripping the headboard and you couldn’t tell how, but you knew he was close. There was something about the way his eyes were fixed on yours, his breathing became faster, his movements more irregular and in the midst of your bliss you were still able to reason "Stephen... I'm not taking anything."

But your words didn't have the effect you expected, on the contrary, he seemed to become even more determined to finish. His mouth fell open, loud moans and grunts escaping straight from his throat and his thrusts became even harder and faster.

"You're being such a good girl for me. Letting me fuck your pussy raw. I think I'll make it up to you." He rested his forehead on yours and continued. "I'm going to fill you with my cum and you're going to take all of it, won't you?"

You shook your head, but he shushed you.

"Of course you will. I'll leave you leaking my cum for days so you remember what you get for being a good girl. Who knows, maybe you'll come back for more?"

"But... we can't..."

He thrusted even harder against you and your mouth went agape with the feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. You knew you were close, but at the same time it was unlike anything you had ever felt. I was stronger and it seemed to come from much deeper inside you.

"Of course we can. Going to fuck a baby inside you, sweetheart. I know you will look beautiful carrying my baby."

Your pussy fluttered at those words. How was it possible for you to feel that way? You knew you couldn't let him do that, but you didn't have the strength to fight him when your body was against you. The tension inside your stomach increased and you were so close, all you needed was a small push to fall and surrender to your climax.

"S-Stephen... I'm gonna cum. Oh my... shit."

He kept his pace holding on to the headboard to put more strength into his thrusts while with his other hand he grabbed your chin making you look at him.

"Look at me, Y/n. I want to see it happening. Show me how good my cook is making you feel."

"So good... cock feels so good inside me. I am so lucky." You muttered, barely aware of your own words. "I need to cum. Let me cum... Please..."

He smirked, surely satisfied with your total submission. "You can cum, sweetheart. Do it now."

The tension exploded within you with an intensity you had never experienced before. Unlike every time you came, the sensation was not concentrated in your clit, but came from the inside out, making your entire body shake and tears accumulate at your waterline.

"There you go." Stephen stopped thrusting, watching you with a victorious smile on his lips and then kissed you, a wet kiss, full of lust and desire. Fuck, he was such a good kisser. You felt yourself melting on his lips.

He groaned at your lips and, against your will, you felt him spilling inside you. You knew you should fight it, but in your state of pure bliss you couldn't find the strength within yourself to even try.

He broke the kiss only to lower his lips to your neck where he sucked a bruise too visible for you to hide with your robes. But you knew that was exactly his intention. He wanted to claim you. Showing you that from that moment on you were his and no matter how absurd it might seem, you liked the idea. In fact, that was exactly what you wanted.

He rolled to the side when he was finished, his breathing slowly returning to normal and you lay there feeling the weight of everything that had happened, disbelief and shame finally taking over you. You were suddenly terribly self conscious about lying naked on Strange's bed while his cum dripped from your violated pussy.

In the middle of your internal debate you decided to get up, but you were interrupted by Strange who held your arm and asked with some disbelief. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To my room. I... I think I need a shower."

He cupped your face smirking "Wait here. I'll clean you up."

You waited for him motionless on the bed, your heart beating so hard you could hear it pounding in your ears. You heard the sounds coming from the bathroom, he had left the door open and the room was too small so you couldn't hear him. He peed and wash himself and then came back a few minutes later with a towel in his hands and went back to bed. He cleaned you gently, the towel was wet with warm water and it felt good although the whole situation was extremely embarrassing.

"I'll help you with your studies." He said when he finished what he was doing. "You can wait for me in the library after dinner, but you can't rely on that alone to pass your exams. You need to read. That's what works for me. Hours of reading."

You sat on the bed and stared in disbelief at the small stain of blood on the white sheet. Your face blushed so hard you needed to look the other way.

"I shouldn't have done what I did, Y/n. I had no idea you were a virgin. I'm so sorry. I imagine it wasn't what you expected your first time to be."

You shook your head. "I always wanted it to be you." You confessed, staring at your hands. "You're right. I have feelings for you. That's why I tease you... so you'll notice me."

He sighed, but there was a certain tenderness in his eyes that you had never seen before.

"And do you want this to continue, or it’ll be a one-time thing?" Stephen asked and for a second you could see expectation in his eyes, as if he was waiting a long time for the answer he wanted to hear.

"I don't know, Strange. Do you want it to continue?"

He smirked looking away and then he nodded. "Yes. I want to do it again. And you can keep calling me Stephen. I think it's the most normal thing after I took your virginity."

You felt the heat running down from your cheeks to your neck.

"You look beautiful all red like that." He smiled at you. "I always thought you were beautiful, Y/n."

He came closer and cupped your face and kissed you. Soft and calm for the first time. Your lips moved in sync and somehow this kiss felt even more intimate than the others. When he broke the kiss there was a passionate smile on his lips.

He sighed getting up. "Feel free to use the bathroom. I'll change the sheets so we can sleep."

You did as he suggested, hiding in the bathroom while he disappeared with the evidence of your lost innocence. You took the opportunity to wash your face with clean water and went back to the room. He was already lying down and patted the mattress for you to join him. You picked up his tee that was on the floor and put it on and then lay down on the bed next to him. He pulled you into his arms and you both fell silent.

I need to know that you're okay, Y/n" He said.

You nodded. "I'm fine. Really." You glanced at him for a moment and then smiled. "You can call me sweetheart whenever you want. It's terribly cute." You teased.

He pinched your cheek "As you wish, sweetheart. Now let's try to sleep. We need to wake up early for training tomorrow. Promise you'll be good to me."

Your smirked “I’ll try.”

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eggymf-archived · 2 years ago

Text

forever and always

ft. sebastian sallow with f!reader (one-shot)

themes: angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, porn with plot, slow burn, mutual pining, hurt to comfort, aged-up characters (21+), reader is not mc

warning: nsfw, smut, not spoiler-free, loss of virginity, mild depictions of injury, unedited, not proofread

summary: both you and sebastian are aurors who had just completed a mission. however, sebastian was wounded in the process, and the two of you decided to stay in an inn for the night to treat his wounds and get some rest. unfortunately, there’s only one vacant room left with one bed.

word count: 5.2k

a/n: didn’t expect it to turn out pretty long, but i’ll just casually drop this load of filth right here.

masterlist || AO3 cross-post

“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?!”

Sebastian winced as you cleaned a nasty gash on his chest with a soft cloth soaked in Wiggenweld Potion. In that moment, he wasn’t exactly sure which was worse: the physical stinging pain on his chest, your scalding tone, or the fact that you being angry somehow made you a bit more attractive than usual (not that you weren’t in the first place). You pointed your wand at his wound, muttering an unfamiliar spell: the wound stitched itself back with a translucent, silver thread coming from the tip of your wand. He gave you an appreciative grin while you glowered at him half-heartedly.

“The next time you pull that sort of stunt ever again, I will NOT help you with your wounds, Sebastian!” you huffed angrily, placing the soiled cloth into a bowl filled with water. You headed towards the bathroom to clean up while Sebastian stared at your retreating figure, a fond smile gracing his lips.

It has always been like this eversince the two of you became friends: kind and gentle (Y/N) always worrying about his wellbeing and being a mother hen whenever he got hurt. You’ve been friends with him and Anne eversince early childhood: the three of you were born in Feldcroft and have been living there for as long as you could remember, while Ominis joined your little group during your first year in Hogwarts. All four of you were sorted into Slytherin and were inseparable as a group. Throughout your years as friends, you were aware of Sebastian's penchant for getting himself into trouble and danger, and with how reckless he gets, you made it one of your many missions to study all sorts of healing spells out of concern for the boy. You always looked out for all of your friends, especially Sebastian. It was an oath you had personally took upon yourself.

However, Sebastian's friendship with you wasn’t always smooth.

The end of 4th year was the start of the worst of his Hogwarts years: with Anne being cursed, Sebastian wasn’t the best person to interact with in general. You tried to help Anne of course, conniving with Sebastian by sneaking into the restricted section together with him and retrieving book after book. You had also asked your mother, who was a healer, to help with Anne's case. Unfortunately, you ended up on the receiving end of Sebastian's misplaced anger when you delivered the grave news he wasn’t ready to hear.

“I'm sorry, Sebastian. My mother tried everything. Anne can't be healed.”

“How could you say that, (Y/N)?! It’s either you’re not trying enough, or you don’t care about Anne enough!”

“That’s not--”

“I'd rather be with someone who’ll be more useful in finding a cure. So, if you’d excuse me, I have a book to read.”

He despised himself for saying such things, but his pride was a difficult pill to swallow. He steered clear from you during 5th year, opting to befriend the new 5th year student instead. It was all for Anne - he thought that the mysterious new student would be the key to finding the cure that Anne needs. At least, that’s what he merely tells himself out of his own miserable denial: during his absence from your life, it was rumored that you had began dating Garreth Weasley, so he decided to date the new student out of spite. It hurt him a lot: seeing you give the same warmth towards Garreth. But of course, being the insufferable prick he was at that time, he’d maintain the façade and pride of being in a relationship with the strongest student in their year.

Then everything just spirals out of control eversince he went into Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium. He had already lost you to someone else, and to further add fuel to the fire, he lost himself to his own madness, ended up murdering his uncle in the heat of the moment, his twin sister refuses to talk to him, his brother-like friendship with Ominis became strained, and his “significant other” breaks up with him after the school year when they no longer needed him.

He deserved it all - he was stubborn, manipulative, and cruel. He couldn’t argue with that fact, yet you still took him in without any hesitation despite everything he had done.

It was during the first summer that he didn’t have Anne nor his uncle around - the time when he was graced with a slight glimmer of hope in making things right. Ominis was with him in their cottage in Feldcroft as usual, casually reading a book with his wand while lounging on one of the vacant beds. Sebastian was about to prepare their dinner when someone knocked on the door. Upon opening it, Sebastian was shocked to see you standing before him, holding a small pot of warm food.

“... Thought the two of you might be hungry, so I made extra.”

Sebastian teared up.

“(Y/N), I-”

You merely shook your head.

“Eat. We can talk all about it tomorrow,” you said, handing over the pot to Sebastian. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened.”

Sebastian watched you as you headed back to your home. He glanced at the pot he was holding, his heart twisting with both guilt and a slight relief. You had extended an olive branch towards him even if he was supposed to be the one who had to do it, and he felt ashamed yet thankful at the same time. Needless to say, Ominis was rather confused with Sebastian’s behavior, who was sniffling while eating their dinner that evening.

The brunette male chuckled to himself at the fond memory, but was soon snapped out of his reverie when he heard footsteps towards him. You grabbed a blanket and one of the pillows, heading over to the furniture-less spot in the room.

“You’re sleeping on the floor?” Sebastian bemusedly asked.

“Why yes, I am. You need the bed more than I do. You’re hurt.”

“I was hurt, (Y/N), but I’m fine now thanks to you. We’ve always shared beds when we had sleepovers, so what’s the fuss now?”

“We were children back then, Sebastian. I'm actually a grown woman now, in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Well then, I'll sleep on the floor instead. Can’t have a grown woman sleeping on the floor now, can I?”

You sighed in exasperation, slightly throwing your hands up in disbelief as Sebastian stood up, striding towards you.

“It’s either I sleep on the floor, or you sleep on the bed with me,” he interrupted before you could even protest against him. You swore you saw his lip twitch slightly into a teasing smirk, causing you to shoot him an irritated glare.

“OW!”

Sebastian rubbed the spot on his arm you just violently pinched, a grin still gracing his face triumphantly regardless of the pain as you sat on the other side of the bed. You were blushing furiously, grumbling about how stupidly inconvenient it was that the current room they were staying in for the night was the only vacant room left in this inn while Sebastian plopped right onto his side of the king-sized bed.

The night was still young, but the both of you were too exhausted with your recently finished mission of retrieving several smuggled dark artifacts from dark wizards. Sebastian was lying face up, staring at the decrepit ceiling of the room while you were laying on your side with your back facing him, quickly falling into a deep slumber due to fatigue. He turned towards you, staring at your back as his mind wandered back to what had occurred earlier.

You almost got hit by a slicing spell - the spell that Sebastian had voluntarily shielded you from at the very last minute. And there you were, chiding him about almost getting killed for saving you.

Sebastian's fist clenched in silent worry as his eyes remained glued to your sleeping form. The thought of you being fatally injured or worse was undoubtedly his worst fear in this line of work - the both of you being Aurors and as a duo in assigned missions certainly had its perks, but a part of him couldn’t bear to stomach that you, his beloved (Y/N), always had death looming over you. You never were the combative type - you were a healer, not a soldier, yet regardless of that, you’d still accompany him to the ends of the earth to at least make sure he’s alive. It brought a twinge of pain within his chest the more he thought about all that you’ve done, and he hopes that he’d be blessed enough to repay you for your never-ending grace towards him.

Thankfully, your friendship with Sebastian had been mended for the most part these past few years. The bond was fixed somehow, yes - but it was never fully intact. Despite the both of you constantly being in each other’s company because of work, it’s as if you’re always separated from him by some sort of distance he couldn’t quite explain. Even within this small room, Sebastian feels a wash of longing despite you just being an arm’s length away from him. Is it because of the guilt of him pushing you away in the past; the fear of hurting you once again; or the fact that the both of you are always mere inches away from death so there’s no guarantee if one of you would be even alive the next day?

Several soft sniffles could be heard from you as you shifted around, turning to face him.

“(Y/N)...?”

No response. Sebastian scooted slightly closer, finding a glistening wet trail at your nose bridge. Hesitancy took a hold on him - you were crying in your sleep. He hated seeing that more than anything, and that hate was further amplified by the fact that he didn’t know how to even help you with it without transgressing the invisible emotional boundaries between you and him. He placed his hand on your arm, causing you to stir from your slumber, your eyelids fluttering open.

“Seb...?”

His breath hitched at the old childhood nickname: you hadn’t called him that eversince he pushed you away. Gone were his reservations of keeping a respectable emotional distance from you - not when you said his name in such a soft, vulnerable tone after so long. Warmth enveloped you, snapping you out of your sleepiness. Sebastian had wrapped an arm over you, his palm resting at the back of your head as he pushed you closer towards him. You were about to protest against his actions and push him away, until he murmured his long-repressed wishes in a broken, pleading manner.

“Please just- Let’s stay like this. Even for a while. Merlin, I missed you so much, (Y/N). Please...”

You couldn’t say no to that. Hell, you could never say no to him.

You succumb to the comfort and safety given by the man you’ve always loved eversince the both of you were children, reciprocating the hug by wrapping an arm around his waist while burying your face into his chest. You recalled the innocent sleepovers that you, Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis usually had back in the Sallow’s cottage - they were truly gems of memories that you held dear in your heart: the times when your circle was still intact, carefree, and blissful. Sebastian would often hug you like this especially when you had nightmares, and his warmth often lulled you into the best, uninterrupted slumbers. You could’ve cried in relief being in his arms once again, but you decided against it.

He didn’t need any more sources of problems: not when he’s still in a turmoil of guilt, trauma, and the incapability of forgiving himself for what he did as a naïve teenage boy. You would’ve felt horrible if you were to sandwich your pent-up romantic feelings for him into the fray. Sometimes you wished you could rid him from all of this pain deep down, but alas, your healing prowess is only applicable to physical wounds, not mental and emotional ones.

This moment, however, albeit it being a moment of vulnerability with the both of you just lying in each other’s arms, it was truly a test of both of your mental and emotional fortitude. Both of your respective scents engulfed each other’s senses: dizzyingly pleasant, familiar, and comforting, driving you both closer and closer to the edge of self-control. The questions that raced within Sebastian's mind earlier were now getting less and less hazy as he looked at your once tear-stricken face, cupping it while his thumb gave featherlike caresses on your cheek.

Yes, he felt guilty for pushing you away in the past. Yes, he feared breaking your heart once again. Yes, he feared your possible untimely death that could happen anytime. But that’s not the primary source of his painful longing this entire time.

It was because he loves you from the start: heads over heels in love to the point he’d unconsciously steer you away from anything that would be cruel enough to steal the light that gave you so much life. He wanted to protect you from everything that would reduce you into ruins - most especially himself. He loves you to the point where it hurts.

But with you staring at his eyes with the same sense of brokenness and unspoken yearnings, the bubbling desire he had feared and suppressed had finally broken through the walls of his self-control.

He captured your lips with his, inhibitions evidently thrown out of the window as you returned the kiss with equal fervor. Sebastian felt his mind blank out as the kiss became more and more frantic, desperately pulling you in closer to feel you against his body. You gasped for air as the both of you pulled away, gazing at each other’s blown-out eyes. Sebastian trailed his thumb on your lips, admiring your messily breathless and dazed form - even in such an unkempt state, you were still so fucking beautiful.

“This is your last chance to stop me, (Y/N),” Sebastian murmured with a hint of seriousness in his tone. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself if we continue.”

You leaned towards him, giving him a peck of reassurance on his red, flushed lips.

“Then don’t,” you breathed out.

Sebastian felt his last remaining trace of self-doubt disintegrate as soon as you whispered those saccharine words with so much pent-up desire. He smiled, gently locking his lips upon yours once more, relishing in your addicting taste. Having you in his arms like this felt so right - you were so utterly pliant, obedient, and needy for him. His hand reached the back of your head, yanking your hair to expose your dainty neck, peppering kisses along your jugular. Your felt yourself shudder, closing your eyes as you indulged in Sebastian's ministrations.

You yelped as Sebastian climbed on top of you, not breaking the onslaught of his desperate, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your poor neck. He wedged his knee in between your legs, prying them apart. A mewl tore out of your mouth as he nipped on your neck, suckling on the spot and leaving a blooming, purplish red mark on your once unblemished skin. Sebastian growled as he began unbuttoning your blouse while you sat up to meet his lips in yet another fiery kiss, ridding him of his top as well with shaky, eager hands.

Sebastian yanked the undone clothing off your frame, baring you topless before his hungry gaze. He attached his mouth on your chest right below your clavicle while you straddled him, his arm wrapping around your waist in response to keep you firmly in place. Voluntarily, you maneuvered your hips in a slow, grinding manner on the painfully obvious tent on his pants, earning a pleasured hiss from the brunette as your lips descended upon his, tongues melding with each other in an open-mouthed kiss.

“F-Fuck (Y/N)...!” he panted in between exchanges of depraved kisses, gripping your waist as you pushed yourself down harder on him, controlling the movement of your hips to a faster pace. You let out a shaky groan, feeling the agonizing texture of your growingly wet undergarments sticking on your sensitive core. The aching between your legs grew hot and unbearable, and this was barely even the start of the sheer debauchery the both of you were going to partake in for the night.

Sebastian left a trail of kisses downwards from your lips all the way to your chest while removing your bra in the process. Your chest heaved in pleasure as he took one of your nipples to his mouth, swirling his tongue on the sensitive nub while his other free hand pinched and twisted the other. A cry of pleasure erupted from your bitten-red lips as he gently gave the nub a gentle bite and soothing the pain off by smoothing his tongue and giving it a teasing suck. Sebastian smirked as you let out another loud moan while he gave your other nipple the similar brutal yet pleasurable treatment. At this point, he felt his pants getting soaked from the outside, causing his still concealed member to twitch in anticipation as he felt beads of precum leaking from his tip. Despite the layers of clothing still separating your core from his member, he still felt how deliciously wet you are for him, and he wondered how soaked you truly are beneath all that remaining clothing left. The thought alone made him salivate.

He liked this. He liked having this particular sort of power over you - you had no choice but to just keep taking all the pleasure he’s inflicting upon your sensitively submissive body. A sense of impatience soon took a hold of him, causing him to throw you on the bed, frantically unbuttoning your pants and pulling the garment off your body harshly. Your face flushed in shame at the sudden exposure, instinctively shutting your legs close. A glint of possessiveness was evident in Sebastian's eyes as he pried your legs apart, staring at your translucent, soaked-through undergarments.

Your heart was thrumming frenziedly in your chest both out of embarrassment and want, covering your poor blushing face as Sebastian peeled the last remaining article of clothing away from your body. He firmly kept your legs apart as he brought his face closer to your wet aching core, watching it clench around nothingness. Sebastian's brain was completely fried, taking in both the heady scent and lewd sight of your most delicate spot.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” he rasped, spreading the lips of your pussy before licking a long, wet stripe along your slit. Your back arched, your mouth hanging ajar in a silent moan as heightened pleasures consumed your being for the very first time.

“So fucking sexy.”

Lick.

“So fucking good for me.”

Sebastian kept murmuring praises in between licks, the sinful sounds of slurping, mewls, and groans filling the room as he licked up your honeypot like a starved man. Your legs trembled as he continued his relentless actions, alternating from licking and prodding at your weeping hole using solely his tongue. You felt a single digit rub against your slit, coating itself with your essence before slipping inside your cavern.

However, you let out a hiss of pain, causing Sebastian to abruptly stop.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The question itself made you blush.

“I don’t really know how to say this but...”

“But...?”

“... It’s my first time, so...” you meekly said, avoiding eye contact from the half-naked male in front of you. Sebastian's eyes widened in realization.

Oh. You’re a virgin.

That fact alone caused a switch to flip within the male as his eyes darkened with carnal desire.

Animalistic, feral thoughts consumed Sebastian as he spat on your hole aggressively, the lewd action causing you to whimper in delight. He slowly reinserted his finger inside your tight hole, his hot breath fanning over your clitoris as he partook an experimental lick on the sensitive bud. You writhed instinctively, a pleasantly fiery and toe-curling sensation coursing through your veins as you sobbed in pleasure. The mild pain was slowly subsiding as your body responded to the intensity of his foreplay. You were absolutely dripping, and the sheets you laid on now had a wet patch of your juices. One of your hands attempted to grip Sebastian's hair to pry him off your delicate spots, but he had caught your wrist before you could do so, pinning it down on the bed harshly as he continued the deliciously brutal abuse of your pussy and clitoris using his fingers and tongue. He inserted another finger, groaning at how tight your walls felt around his digits.

Oh, to have his cock inside you - the thought alone made Sebastian rut his hips while he relentlessly flicked his tongue against your sensitive pearl.

Your throat felt dry as you moaned uncontrollably, tears prickling your eyes as your pleasure-driven sobs and cries egged Sebastian to his hasten his pacing, causing your insides to twitch in profane delight. He curled his fingers upwards and suckle on the ball of nerve, occasionally swirling his tongue around it. Your legs began to shudder violently at the frenzy of pleasure coursing through your stimulated body, your toes curling as you cried pathetically, begging Sebastian to slow down his ministrations - a request which fell into deaf ears.

And just like that, you had your very first orgasm.

Tremors coursed throughout your body as you came down from your high as Sebastian slowly retracted his fingers from your pussy, staring into your eyes as he licked the soaked digits - a sight that made your already abused pussy clench wantonly. He got off the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his pants as he unbuttoned it, pulling the article of clothing off along with his underwear. Your eyes remained fixed on his as he climbs back on top of you, resting your eagle-spread thighs on his as he prodded the blunt head of his cock on your virgin hole. You gasped at the sensation as he teasingly rubbed the tip along your slit, juices trickling down from your hole. Curiously, you looked down at his appendage with bleary, pleasure-filled eyes.

Oh Merlin. He's fucking girthy.

You swore you almost drooled at the sight despite the worry at the back of your mind if his cock would even fit in your tight virgin hole. Sebastian leaned in for an oddly gentle kiss despite his prior eagerness and vigor. He languidly licks and suckles on your tongue, grinding his cock on your bare pussy as he groped one of your breasts and trailed his other hand on your thigh. You felt so fucking sensitive under him, your body twitching in delight as you received his raw, carnal adoration.

Sebastian, however, was having second thoughts deep down hence the sudden gentleness. He was sure his cock was going to fucking break you with how insanely tight you are, and he didn’t want both of your first times to just be about his own pleasure alone. With how utterly feral he was in the moment, he doesn’t trust himself enough to not go ballistic the moment his cock is completely sheathed within your warmth. Prying his lips away from yours, he nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Get on top of me,” he whispered, giving a brief peck on the damp, sweaty skin of your neck. Sebastian sat beside you, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed, snaking an arm around your waist as you straddled him. The both of you gazed at each other, eyes filled with both lust and love, leaning in for another breathy exchange of kisses.

“I love you, (Y/N). I love you so fucking much.”

Sebastian’s frantic, whispered confession against your lips made your heart soar as you sighed against his plump lips, cupping his cheek as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

“I love you too, Seb. I’m all yours. Only yours.”

Sebastian hummed in response as he nuzzled your neck. He reached for his thick, leaking appendage as you raised your hips, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. He spat on his hand and coated his member with his saliva before rubbing the glistening red tip along your slit to further lubricate it as much as he could. He looked up at you, while you meekly nodded in approval. He positioned the head towards your hole while you lowered yourself slowly, engulfing him within your delicate, wet flower.

You gasped in both pain and pleasure as his cock split you open, burying itself inside your pussy inch by inch while Sebastian’s breath quickened, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully as his self-control threatened to slip away with how heavenly your walls felt. His eyebrows furrowed in both concentration and intense pleasure - it took all of his remaining willpower to not thrust himself up into your warm, inviting hole as he peppered your exposed skin with kisses, mapping his hands across every inch of your exposed skin as he steadied his breathing. You let out a cry of pleasure the moment you buried his cock all the way to the hilt, his smooth tip kissing your cervix.

You gave an experimental roll with your hips, causing a whimper to erupt from your lips while Sebastian’s breath hitched in response, bringing his hands to grip the curves of your ass. He guided your hips in a slow, grinding motion, allowing you to get accustomed to his size. The initial burning sensation of the intrusion was melting away as your body succumbed into the pleasure, your juices flowing from your hole the more stimulation you received. You reached for your clitoris, gently rubbing it as you threw your head back, gasping at the amplified sensations that made your thighs quiver in delight.

Sebastian bit his lip at the sight of you pleasuring yourself while he guided your hips, the shameless image burned in his memory for good. You started bouncing up and down his cock - a telltale sign that the pain had already dissipated as you began to lose yourself into lustful desire. Instinctively, he bucked his hips up, earning an eager whine followed by a string of pleasure-drunk babbles from your lips as you rubbed your clit harder.

“Oh f-fuck! You feel so good. Please, please- Just like that...!”

Despite your wanton pleas, Sebastian lifted you off his lap, causing you to whine at the absence of his cock inside you. You were suddenly pushed down the mattress rather harshly, a gasp escaping from your lips as Sebastian grabbed one of your ankles, throwing your leg above his shoulder while his other hand had two of your wrists pinned right above your head. He slammed his cock back inside your pussy, the both of you groaning in unison at the delicious friction.

Passionate moans spilled from your lips as Sebastian rammed his hips against yours, setting a viciously mind-melting pace. The squelching sounds of your bodily fluids alongside the repetitive slapping of wet skin caused your head to spin in delight, your mind in a mania of sinful indulgence. You were utterly helpless and at his mercy, and you fucking loved it. Sebastian's eyes drank the sight before him: your naked body covered with a sheen of sweat, skin littered with multiple hickeys, bitten-red lips, a fucked-out expression, and your legs spread out nice and wide just for him. Only him.

Sebastian freed your wrists, leaning back as his fingers grazed against your swollen-red pearl, rubbing it in circles. A high-pitched whine bubbled from your lips as your hands gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white. As soon as he started the onslaught of his rough thrusts once again, your mind blanked out as his cock head brushed against a certain, spongy spot within your pussy.

“Fuck! R-right there!” you cried out, your chest heaving in desperation as you clawed at his arm. Your thighs began to quiver once again, causing Sebastian to smirk knowingly as your eyes rolled back in sheer unadulterated bliss.

“Please, please- oh fuck, Sebastian!” you babbled, drool trickling down your chin mindlessly as your remaining bits of sanity began to slip away. Sebastian chuckled darkly at your depravity, leaning forward to brutally assault your poor neck with marks once again.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me,” he groaned against your ear, causing a high-pitched moan to suddenly erupt from your throat. Your walls tightened around his member as he growled, rubbing your clit as you rode your high. Globs of your essence spilled from your hole, coating Sebastian’s cock with a translucent, milky substance.

Despite just having your release, Sebastian was still slamming his cock in and out of your hole, chasing his high while continuing with the abuse of your sensitive spots. Your eyes rolled back as one of his hands wrapped around your neck in a gentle grip, broken whimpers escaping your lips. Sebastian groaned as you gasped for air while tears of pleasure ran down your flushed cheeks - the debauched image of you so utterly broken and cock-drunk solely for him caused his member to twitch inside you as he quickened his pace, tipping him closer and closer to the edge.

“F-fuck, I’m close! Where do you want it?” he hissed through gritted teeth. You pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his as you locked your legs around his waist. He groaned, gazing straight into your eyes as he approached his climax, burying his cock all the way inside your pussy.

Sebastian let out a long, guttural moan, his eyes never leaving yours as his shaft spurted his seed deep inside you. Your walls clenched and twitched as Sebastian slowed his pace, milking any remaining globs of his cum from his cock. The both of you were panting, foreheads pressed together and staring each other with fucked-out yet loving expressions.

Sebastian reluctantly pulled his now softening member out of your hole, causing you to mewl in response. He laid down beside you, the both of you staring at the ceiling, panting in exhaustion. You felt his hot cum trickle down from your wrecked hole, causing you to blush in realization at what had transpired between you both.

Shyly, you glanced at Sebastian, who was still panting slightly, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. He got up, giving you a peck on the forehead, before heading towards the bathroom while you remain in your spot. Sebastian returned from the bathroom with a wet towel at hand, voluntarily wiping any filth away from your prior activities with him while looking at each other with adoration. You intended to at least fix the sheets for the both of you. However, a painful sensation coursed through your inner thighs as you tried to move.

“...Uh, Seb? Could you please pass me my wand?” you asked, feeling guilty that you couldn’t be much of service to him in this little aftercare session. Sebastian quirked an eyebrow - your wand was right at the bedside table not far from you. You felt your face burn as he gives you a questioning look, silently demanding for an explanation for your peculiar request.

“... I can’t feel my legs.”

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