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spookysteddie · 10 months ago

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That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it.

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees.

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted.

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous.

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!”

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?”

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.”

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers.

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.”

…

You should’ve changed your mind.

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you.

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time.

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face.

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands.

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long.

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it.

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-”

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.”

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!”

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels.

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?”

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus.

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus.

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually.

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts.

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that. The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs.

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.”

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you.

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.”

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?”

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was.

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.”

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?”

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen.

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke.

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again.

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet.

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening.

Photos are fine.

Everyone must be tagged.

Nothing negative.

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar.

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines.

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?”

You nod, “y-yeah of course.”

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over.

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer.

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.”

…

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more.

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason.

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.”

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something?

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes.

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there!

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.”

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured.

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.”

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not?

“‘Precious babies?’”

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.”

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne.

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him.

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan.

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.”

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.”

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close.

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.”

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?”

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.”

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?”

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.”

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent.

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…”

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?”

So, you do.

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name.

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times.

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos.

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music.

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.”

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care.

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back.

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him.

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him.

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.”

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you.

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes.

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.”

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?”

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.”

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top.

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you.

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right?

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center.

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone.

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid.

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans.

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No.

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.” He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers.

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?”

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous.

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.”

“V-very.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!”

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.”

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.”

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.”

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft”

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it.

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.”

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?”

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.”

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.”

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?”

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it.

“Oh god! Please.”

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.”

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down.

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.”

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’

“And now… we wait.”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

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prentissluvr · 5 months ago

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you'd dance with me? — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff, light angst ➖⟢ cw : reader gets sort of stood up, alcohol, reader is tipsy, swearing, (not) unrequited love, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.4K prompt : telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the man from the bar, james, isn’t your exact type. no one is except for sam, because you’re irrevocably in love with him. but since you can’t have him, and you’re dying to have a fun night without every second being consumed by thoughts of him, how much you love him, and how much you’re sure he doesn’t love you back, you turn to flirting with the nearest handsome single man.

and that means james. james has been nice enough and asked you to call him jamie, because “that’s what his friends call him.” dean gave you an impressed look as you walked past with “jamie” on your arm, and you winked at him, feeling playful and hopeful for a fun night after a tiring hunt. dean grinned back and sam barely gave any indication he noticed you before you settled at the bar and launched into a decently boring conversation with james about his corporate job and the fake life that you spin up for him.

that was over half an hour ago and it’s been at least twenty minutes since james excused himself to the bathroom with the promise that he’d be right back. you know he’s not coming back, but you stay rooted to your seat anyway.

it takes a few more minutes before sam appears, taking the previous man’s spot by your side.

“he left, didn’t he?” you ask, forlorn and not even bothering to look at sam as he settles next to you. sam cringes and nods. you sigh, not having to turn your head to see the movement through the corner of your eye as he confirms your suspicions. sam wonders if he should tell you that the asshole left with someone else. you deserve to know, but he’s hyperaware that it’ll only add to the sting.

he takes in the look on your face and the empty shot glass that you fiddle with, and he immediately knows that you’re much more upset by this than you normally would be. of course, the situation is completely shitty, for anyone, but on any other day, you’d probably brush it off by looking for someone better or heading back to sit with him and dean for some fun with them (if dean’s still around by then). today, you’re alone and at least an extra shot or two in since the guy left, likely making you more tipsy than you intended to get tonight. more than that, the frown on your lips is easy to see and read, far different from the smile you normally give him when you’re pretending not to care. tonight you don't attempt hide it.

“you okay?” he finally asks. you sigh again and surprise him a bit by dropping your head on his shoulder. this kind of touch between the two of you isn’t abnormal, but these days it feels like you’re avoiding it a little, which sort of kills him. it takes you a moment to answer, but when you do, sam’s heart clenches.

“i just wanted to dance with someone tonight.” your voice is sad and candid from the removal of your filter by the alcohol in your system. for a moment, sam is blindingly angry with the asshole that stood you up, and he has to hold back a vehement curse before recentering his focus on you and the sad pull between your eyebrows. he just clenches his jaw and lets you say what you need to before he lets any of the million things he wants to tell you fall from his lips. “he said he’d dance with me when he got back… then he didn’t come back. d’you think it’s stupid i wanted to dance? think that’s why he left?”

now sam’s heart is plain-old breaking for you. he wants to ring the neck of the stupid man that made you question yourself like this, made your voice sound so dejected. then he wants to sweep you up in his arms and hold you close and kiss your forehead and tell you that it’s the sweetest, most endearing thing in the world that you want to dance. tell you that he’ll dance with you every night despite the fact that he can’t do much more than hold you and sway with you. tell you that he’s completely and enduringly in love with you. he discovered that recently, though he figures it’s been true for a long while now.

he has to settle for something a little more tame because you’re upset over another guy, because you're a little tipsy, and because he can’t lose your friendships if those words don’t come across well.

sam puts his arm around your shoulders and you sink further into him. “if that’s why he left, he’s an idiot. anyone in their right mind would trip over their own feet to dance with you. no one in their right mind would leave you– someone like you, sitting here alone,” he says your name so soft and loving that he thinks he’s given himself away until he remembers you’re not picking up on everything right now, “he didn’t deserve you. you deserve a whole lot better than that ass.” i’d be so good to you, he thinks.

“yeah,” you agree, still sounding a little despondent.

“if you– if you still wanna dance, you’ve got a willing partner,” sam forges ahead, anything to make you smile.

“mm, where? james probably left with someone else, for all i know.” he doesn’t like that man’s name on your lips, and maybe you’re a little more drunk than he thought, because you’re not getting the hint as quickly as you normally would. if you were sober and trying not to act upset, you’d say that all with a playful tone to your voice to tease him for offering. right now, you just sound sort of unbelieving.

“you know,” sam responds, keeping his voice just as serious as yours instead of matching that tease like he normally would.

this time you let a bit of humor slip into your voice, but it’s still sort of pessimistic, “what? are you gonna drag dean away from whatever girl he’s found just to cheer up my sorry ass?” sam has to laugh a little at that thought, because it’s a silly image and almost funny how you refuse to see him as an option.

“your ass isn’t sorry,” sam smiles all soft when that pulls a half-hearted snort from you. his voice is still gentle as he finally says, “i’m right here, you know.”

when you tilt your head up to look at his face, and finally, finally, he gets your eyes on his, he almost melts to the floor. you’re looking at him, sweet and soft with your eyebrows pinched together like you’re not sure if he meant it. then there’s that little hint of hope and joy swimming around in the pretty pools of your eyes and it sets his heart afire, just like that. you’ve done just about nothing special, but to him you’ve done everything.

“you’d wanna dance with me?” you say it like you can’t believe it, like that’s exactly what you’d really been hoping for all night and it takes everything in sam’s power not to swoop down and kiss you right then and there. he’d wanna do a whole lot more than dance with you, but it’s a wonderful, glorious, honey-sweet way to start, he thinks.

“of course,” he grins at you, and that’s all it takes to pull a big smile over your features too. that’s just about everything sam could ever ask for, and it brings a flood of relief over him. he just can’t help himself when he asks, “that is, if you’d want to dance with me? i’m sure i’m not your ideal dancing partner for the night, but hopefully i’ll do.”

“of course i want to dance with you, sam,” you say, so blatantly honest that it makes his heart hurt, “and that’s not true.” you won’t explain what you mean by that, so sam stands with you and gladly lets you use him for balance. it’s not true that he’s not your ideal dancing partner? is that what you meant? he certainly hopes so, because that must mean, by default, he is your ideal dancing partner, and you wanted to dance with him tonight, not this awful james.

maybe you love him back a little, he hopes, as your wrap your arms around his middle and let him sway you back and forth, all gentle and smiling.

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uravitsy · 10 months ago

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‘YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL’ SATORU GOJO

ACT ONE.

summary. gojo visits your grave once a year, reflecting on the limited time he had with you while going through the stages of grief. ☆

warnings. angst, sad!gojo, fem!reader! gojo x you, grief, established relationship, some smut if you squint, bittersweet ending

a/n. this is a short story i wrote over the summer, i wanted to dabble into the idea of gojo not being able to fully process his grief without the help of his students. it is a bit sad though.

ACT TWO : ̗̀➛ ACT THREE : ̗̀➛ FINALE

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

"Does Gojo-sensei seem…different today?" Itadori asked absentmindedly, leaning back in his chair while balancing a pencil on his nose. He was doing everything else but the work he was supposed to finish before class ended. His two close friends, Megumi and Nobara, spared him a quick glance, as if debating whether to answer his ridiculous question.

"When is that nutjob ever okay?" Nobara bounced back another question, making Itadori stop balancing himself on his chair to think for once. The pencil he had on his face clattered onto the ground. "If anything, he's more extra than he was yesterday."

"Exactly," Itadori frowned, the invisible lightbulb above his head continuing to flicker as he thought long and hard about what Gojo could be upset about. He knew it was a stretch, and he himself wasn't too good at reading emotions, but he was sure something was off—from the way Gojo's smile seemed wider to the way his laughs went on for a second too long. "What do you think, Megumi?"

The black-haired boy stopped moving his pencil across the paper. His face remained stoic as the two beside him turned to look in his direction, anticipating an answer from him.

In short, Megumi did know why Gojo seemed off today, and it was all because of his vague memory of you.

He was a clueless child back then, but he felt it. He felt the love you and Gojo shared, something he had seen before between his own mother and father. It was strong, beautiful, like a song that only you and Gojo knew the lyrics to. It was a dance—a slow burn into the spotlight of a world you two created.

He admired it. He admired you and the person you helped Gojo become.

And though your memory was beautiful, it was also tragic. Megumi did mourn you since he remembered bits and pieces of you, but he was sure Gojo mourned you the most. Especially since today was the anniversary of your death. For as long as he's known Gojo, he knew that this one day out of the year was the time when he'd crack more jokes, tease him more, and laugh the loudest—all to mask his pain.

And he couldn't help but think it's because Gojo never properly grieved for you.

"He's the same as usual," Megumi lied. It wasn't their place to know, nor was it his. Everyone had their secrets and the stuff they keep to themselves. Who were they to pry into his business? "You guys should just drop it."

And with that, he went back to his assignment, ignoring the gawking stares from both of his friends.

"Well, now I'm even more curious," Itadori pouted, resting his chin on his hand as he looked out the window just in time to see Gojo's back as he skipped off campus. "He's literally leaving in the middle of the day!"

"Itadori—" Megumi started but got interrupted by his friends' loud voices.

"What?!" Nobara pushed Itadori away from the window so she could look. A sudden spark of curiosity consumed her as she cracked a mischievous grin. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We should follow him!" they both said at the same time as they rushed out of the classroom with such speed they left papers flying behind them.

Megumi could only sigh. His peers were likely to get in trouble and drag him into their mess somehow. It never fails. He thought for a moment about how he would benefit from following them to make sure they didn't get caught leaving school grounds without a teacher, but he came up with nothing. He figured he should take his own advice and mind his own business, let those two knuckleheads do whatever they want and suffer the consequences for it.

They could potentially run into dangerous curses, dangerous people, or dangerous people controlling dangerous curses… and then suffer grave injuries. You know what? Maybe he should follow them from a distance.

Meanwhile, the door to the flower shop gave a soft ding as Gojo opened it. His tall frame took up the space in the small shop. Gojo ducked his head as he came in, careful not to knock over the potted plants that rested on the floor and shelves in no particular order. The air was stale with an earthy smell that was oddly comforting. It was good to know that the place remained the same after a year—the only thing that stayed the same in his chaotic life.

"Satoru!" an elderly woman looked up from her newspaper at the sound of the doorbell, thick circle glasses making her eyes appear large and almost fish-like. "Good to see you! How have you been?"

"Mrs. Yamada," Gojo bowed respectfully to the elder, to which the lady playfully pinched and pulled his cheeks. "Missed you too!"

"You silly boy, you know you can visit anytime and not just once a year, you know (Y/N) would've loved that, hm?" Mrs. Yamada made her way behind the counter, already grabbing and wrapping up a single flower. A flower that was your favorite, the same kind you'd always get whenever you would come into this small flower shop.

Gojo never understood why you didn't let him buy a whole bouquet of the flowers you loved. "Then I'd have to take care of all of them," you'd say, your laugh like a sweet melody in his ears that he constantly wanted to replay. "When it's just one, I feel like it lasts longer, you know? I seem to appreciate it more."

The memory made him frown slightly. If you allowed it, he would've bought the whole damn store for you, and you wouldn't just be stuck with a single flower. He didn't get it. He didn't get you. Even after all these years, he was still trying to figure you out.

"Ah, she used to come in every Sunday morning to say hello," Mrs. Yamada smiled warmly. "Always ready to hound me for something sweet to eat. (Y/N) had a nose like a hound and a stomach like a sumo wrestler." The brown wrapping paper crinkled against the elder's fingertips as she folded it around the flower. "Oh, how I miss her."

"Come now, Mrs. Yamada," Gojo leaned against the counter, tapping the wood with excitement. "She'd want us to smile, to celebrate her life, right?! Then that's exactly what we'll do."

"Satoru…"

Gojo waved his hands dismissively. "The usual price for the flowers, right?"

"Yes," Mrs. Yamada rang him up at the cash register before sliding the flower across the counter toward him. But before Gojo could grab it, she pulled it away. "I wanted to tell you before I closed up shop for the day, but… I will be retiring next month."

Gojo's smile fell then.

"I am getting too old, and ever since my husband's passing, I find it quite hard to manage this all on my own, no matter how much I love to do so," she patted the counter lightly, eyes glazed over in a daze as if recalling a memory. "I will be closing the shop and moving to America to stay with my daughter."

"Then are you going to sell the building?"

Gojo found himself asking before he could even think about what to say.

"I'll buy it."

Even in death, you were expensive. How was that possible? Gojo found himself using his savings to buy a whole flower shop that you weren't even here to see. But did that matter to him? Of course not. You were worth every penny—and the shop, to him, was nothing more than a shiny penny that he could buy for your sake. All because you loved it and would visit it often. Gojo couldn't let it close down; it was too valuable for the sake of the memories it held.

So now he owned a flower shop. What the hell was he going to do with a flower shop? He didn't know a damn thing about flowers.

"(Y/N)…" Gojo whispered your name as he pushed open the metal graveyard gate, the bolt making a loud creaking noise that echoed into the summer breeze.

It didn't take Gojo long to find your headstone. After all these years, he knew this cemetery like the back of his hand; at this point, it was like a second home to him. The only place where he could truly let the mask fall as he mourned for you.

In the years you've been gone, he had a long time to think—to wonder why you of all people had to be taken away from him. It made him question, curse, and cry to a higher power above if there was one. Would they be listening? Did they hear him? Did they understand the pain he was put through? And if everything was a part of the higher power's plan, then why was (Y/N) written in with such a tragic story? Why did her life become a song of such somber music?

It wasn't fair. And to Gojo, he would never make sense of it, no matter how hard he tried.

"Ah, it's a beautiful day, (Y/N)." Gojo smiled warmly at your headstone before sitting on the smooth tile, rummaging through his bag to pull out a rag so he could wipe the dust that was on top of your engraved name. "Though I bet you're complaining about how hot it is. I know, it is a little toasty, but a beautiful day nonetheless."

Wiping the concrete clean, Gojo made sure it was spotless with all the cleaning supplies he brought. He had to make up for the year he was away; that's why he always deep-cleaned your headstone since he knew he wouldn't be back until next year. He wanted you to watch the seasons go by with a pretty headstone, one that sparkled whenever the sun cast its rays on it.

"Hm?" Gojo tilted his head as if to hear your unspoken question again. "Oh! I'm doing good. Still teaching. You'd love these lot of kids, though. They have such great potential and are such a reckless bunch who enjoy escaping off campus to follow me here."

"Crap! He's onto us." Gojo heard Nobara's voice from the bushes behind him.

"Do you think he knows?" Itadori asked in his typically clueless fashion.

"He knows, dumbass." Megumi sighed before emerging from the bushes with twiddledee and twiddledumb trailing behind him. Their bantering stopped once they saw Gojo sitting by your headstone, the air suddenly becoming still as they made their way closer.

"Gojo-sensei, we can explain—!"

"Don't even," the white-haired man laughed before gesturing toward the headstone. "(Y/N), meet my students. Students, meet (Y/N)!"

"Ah! Nice to meet you!" Itadori bowed in respect, and so did Megumi.

"Why are we bowing to a dead—" Grabbing ahold of Nobara's hand, Itadori forcibly pulled her down so she could bow as well.

"Oh, you kids are in so much trouble," Gojo said with a gleeful smile. "I'm already thinking of all the ways to punish you."

"In my defense," Megumi started, "I tried to stop them."

"Yetttttt you're still here." Tilting his head, Gojo looked at his students playfully. "I hope you all enjoyed this field trip, but let's head back to campus, yeah? And get ice cream along the way!"

"Oh! Ice cream!" Itadori and Nobara spun around in a dance as they made their way toward the entrance of the cemetery, the pair just finding it best not to question who you were or what you were to Gojo. They could finally sense what Itadori was talking about that morning. He was different today, and it was clear he was sad. "La la la la la!"

"Let's go, Megumi. Do you still prefer chocolate?" Gojo turned to walk away but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Megumi staring at your grave with an expression he couldn't read. "Megumi?"

"Gojo-sensei…" His student turned to look at him. "I just want you to know that it's okay to be sad, to grieve for her."

Gojo chuckled, tucking his hand in his pocket as a breeze cut through the air, its chilled warmth wrapping around the pair. "Who's to say I don't? I grieve her every day."

URAVITSY 2024

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snowysosturn · 3 months ago

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Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of physical fight, swearing, hospital, stitches, injuries to ribs and wrist, mentions of thoughts of cheating (i don’t condone), guilt, angst, characters under the influence of alcohol.

The tension between Matt and I hung in the air, a lingering echo of what had almost happened, but it was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling as I unlocked my phone. My phone had one notification - a text from Jess.

“Hey, are you okay? Alex got into a fight..Call me when you can!”

My stomach twisted, and I felt my heart drop. Why am I only hearing this from Jess? Why has no one else tried to contact me? Alex wasn’t the rowdy type, so for him to get into a fight at a nightclub, I knew it was bad.

Matt was already reading his own texts, his brows furrowed as he processed the information. “Shit.” He muttered, glancing at me with concern. “Alex got into a fight with one of his teammates. They’re saying he’s hurt.”

Panic set in, “His teammate?” I thought as I tried to piece together what could have happened. I rang Alex’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. My heart pounded in my chest, every worst case scenario flashing through my mind.

“We need to go,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood up. “We have to find him.”

Matt nodded, already grabbing his keys. “Emily said they’re at the hospital. Come on, I’ll drive.”

The drive to the hospital was a blur, my mind too consumed with worry to register much of what was happening around me. Matt stayed focused on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tight. I could tell he was worried too, even though he was doing his best to stay calm for my sake.

When we finally pulled up to the hospital, I spotted Emily standing outside, her phone pressed to her ear. She was pacing, looking more annoyed than worried, and the sight made my stomach turn. I knew Emily wasn’t perfect, but seeing her so detached at a moment like this made me question everything.

The closer we got to Emily, I realised she was just as drunk as she was at the party and it wasn’t the time for another one of her outbursts.

“Matt what took you so long, I’ve been here for ageeeeeesss.” Emily said, crossing her arms while stumbling her balance to one side. “They won’t let me see Alex yet. They’re still checking him out or whatever.”

Matt’s expression tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “Let’s just go inside and wait. I’m sure they’ll give us an update soon.”

We walked into the hospital together, the smell of sanitizer hitting us immediately. The stark white lights made everything feel even more surreal. The waiting area was half empty, a few people scattered around, their faces etched with worry. We found a quiet corner to sit, the tension between us palpable.

“Do you know what happened Emily?” I asked.

“I have no idea, one minute we were all dancing, the next thing punches were been thrown.” Emily replied, visibly upset.

As we waited, Emily kept glancing between me and Matt, her suspicion growing with every second. “ Wait, did you two come here together?”

“Yeah,” Matt said quickly, his voice steady as he lied. “I picked her up on the way here, figured it would be easier since Y/n needs to be here too.”

I glanced at Matt, grateful for the quick cover, but I couldn’t help feel the tug on my heart. I wasn’t too sure if she believed what Matt said, but before she could press further, a nurse approached us.

“Are you both here for Alex too?” she asked, her eyes on Matt and I.

“Yes,” I said, standing up quickly. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable.” the nurse said, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “The doctors are finishing up with him now, but he should be able to go home tonight.”

I nodded, relief washing over me. “Thank you. Can we see him?”

“Just one of you for now.” The nurse said, glancing between us. “You can all go in once he’s moved to a recovery room.”

“I’ll go! I’ve known him the longest.” Emily said quickly, as she jogged down the hallway bare foot, her high heels sat on the chair next to us.

Matt and I exchanged a look, but I couldn’t bring myself to argue. This was Alex, my boyfriend - the person I was supposed to care about more than anyone. So why am I not the one walking down that hall right now.

We sat back down, the silence between us heavy with unspoken thoughts. I couldn’t shake the image of Alex, hurt and in pain, and yet my mind kept drifting back to the situation with Matt earlier, and the way we’d almost… I shook my head, trying to focus on the present.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, his voice soft as he reached out to place a comforting hand on my arm.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’m just worried. I can’t believe this happened.”

“Alex is tough. He’ll be fine,” Matt said, but there was something in his tone that made me wonder if he was trying to convince himself as much as me.

We lapsed into silence again, waiting for the nurse to return. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I didn’t have the energy to check it. Instead, I leaned back in the uncomfortable ER chair, my thoughts spinning in a million different directions.

What had happened to Alex to make him snap like that? And why did I feel so guilty sitting here with Matt, even though I knew we hadn’t done anything wrong?

Shortly after she ran down the hall, Emily came back, looking more irritated than concerned. “Alex said he wants you in the room with him instead.” she said with a sigh. “Well I would like to think my own boyfriend would prefer me to be with him.” I thought to myself.

I nodded, standing up again. “Okay, I’ll go see him.”

As I went to walk down the hallway Emily had come from, the nurse reappeared, motioning for us to follow her.

"He's ready to be discharged, you can all come in." She said with a gentle smile.

Emily, Matt, and I exchanged a brief glance before we trailed after the nurse down the quiet hallway. When we reached Alex's room, I felt a strange mix of emotions - relief that he was okay, but also a deep unease right in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t quite shake.

Alex was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, his wrist wrapped in a sling and bandage covering the cut on his forehead. His face lit up when he saw us, a crooked, drunken smile spreading across his lips. Despite everything, he looked like a little kid who had just been given out to but was happy to see all of us.

“Thereeee she issss.” He slurred, his voice thick from the painkillers and the alcohol still infused in his system. He tried to stand but swayed slightly, prompting the nurse to steady him. “My dream girl, I’m so glad you’re here.” Alex said as his gaze landed on me. He reached out and pulled me into a hug, his arm wrapping around my shoulders.

“Of course, Alex,” I said softly, stepping back slightly as he released me to sit back on the edge of the bed. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

I knelt down beside him, my heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable. “What happened?”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured, “Got into it with one of the guys. So stupid, it shouldn’t have happened.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes glassy as he tried to focus on me. “You’re the best, you know that? The best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He leaned in to kiss me, his lips finding my forehead. I couldn’t help but notice how Matt’s expression darkened out of the corner of my eye. I glanced at him, catching the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

After letting us have our moment, the nurse gave us a rundown of Alex’s injuries - a Grade 2 wrist sprain, a few bruises ribs and a small cut on his forehead that required stitches. Recovery time is 4 weeks. They’d given him something for the pain, which explained his current state, and informed us after a bit more paperwork, we were free to leave.

Matt kept focus on us despite Emily yapping in his ear. “4 weeks recovery time? Thank god you’ll be good as new just in time for Barcelona!” Emily exclaimed in relief.

Matts eyes were dark with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. He seemed to snap out of it when Alex turned to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

You’re a good dude, Matt,” Alex said with a grin. “Thanks for getting her here. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Matt nodded, his face plastered with a neutral look, though I could sense the tension beneath it. “No problem, man. Just glad you’re okay.”

The nurse handed Alex his discharge papers, and now that everything was finalized, we could leave. Matt stepped forward to help me get Alex to his feet, his arm gently sliding around my boyfriend’s back to support him making sure he wasn’t putting pressure on Alex’s ribs in the process. As they stood, Alex winced, so I moved closer, ready to catch him if he fell.

“Thanks, Matt,” Alex mumbled, his head lolling back against Matt’s shoulder. He turned his blurred gaze to me, a dopey smile spreading across his face. “I’m so glad we’re all here. Together.” He reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek before he pulled me in and leaned in to kiss my forehead again. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

The kiss, meant to be tender and affectionate, felt like a sack of rocks sitting in my stomach. I’m standing in a hospital room, holding my boyfriend up, with someone who I had thoughts of kissing tonight. The whole scene felt surreal, like we were all playing parts in some fucked up drama that none of us had signed up for.

Emily took Matt’s keys off his waistband and walked ahead of us all, ready to unlock his car and open all the doors for us. Emily took the passenger seat as I sat in the back with Alex. As we drove back to our apartment, Alex’s head laid back against the seat, his eyes half-closed. Emily was asleep with her head resting against the car window. I sat in silence, my thoughts racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened tonight. God if Alex had have just come home everything would be different. Everything would be fine.

When we finally pulled up to our building, Matt helped me get Alex inside while Emily trailed behind, groggy from her 20 minute nap. As soon as we got him to our bed, Alex was out cold, his breathing deep and even. Emily sighed, brushing a hand through her hair, clearly exhausted.

“We should get going,” she said, glancing at Matt. “I hope you’re okay Y/n. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

Matt nodded, his eyes meeting mine briefly before he looked away. “Yeah we should get going. You should get some rest Y/n.”

Emily gave me a quick hug, her perfume lingering in the air as she pulled away. “Take care of him, okay?” she said, her voice softer than before.

“Yeah,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t worry, I will.”

As Emily left to walk back to the car, Matt lingered in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me. “If you need anything… you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Matt,” I said, offering him a small, tired smile. “I appreciate it. For everything.”

He nodded, hesitating for a moment as if he wanted to say more, but then he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a sleeping Alex. I looked down at him, his face peaceful in sleep. I had almost crossed a line tonight. But for now, all I could do was focus on the present. I pulled the duvet over Alex and lay down next to him. I checked my phone, remembering I felt a notification while I was sitting in the hospital. It was from Jess again, but the message had been deleted.

a/n : this isn’t proof read properly, it’s 8am and i’ve been working on this since 5am with 3 hours sleep <3 jet lag is reallllll i’ll fix anything that needs to be fixed later

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf

*can you pls lmk if you actually got tagged in this, this shit isnt tagging most ppl idk why

#snowy speaks #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

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Jungkook

𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 [Part 1: Goldrush]

There's always a certain sense of childish sadness in a man consumed by rage and anger- because in a man like him, those feelings are simply born from the pain of the past, and the crushing fear of what the future might yet make him face.

Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Tiger!Jungkook, Deer!Reader, mentioned abuse, mentions of underground fights, graphic descriptions of violence, a gun oh no, Jungkook in a suit, it's pretty dark read at your own risk, there is like a hint of fluff?, just let me cook I promise it'll be worth it, do not read this if you're easily triggered/upset by dark and violent themes please thank you

Length: 6.5k Words (oh boy look at the size of that thing)

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Haha remember when I said it'll be 3k words per chapter? well I lied oops

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook met you after his first fight for the Golden House.

Humming a tune you'd almost danced through the kitchen- though you were mostly focused on helping the other maids and cooks prepare the food for the higher up's currently invited for dinner at the estate. He remembers he'd scared you- probably due to his rather beat up face, none of it having been treated most of the time, just so he could scar up and look tough on the outside.

It had worked- somewhat. Though his hybrid genes had made it rather difficult to hurt him enough to permanently scar- all of them eventually fading, needing to be remade, night after night.

The look of fear in your eyes had been something he got used to- or maybe he simply didn't notice it after a while, maybe it became normal to see you in a constant state of fight or flight. He never saw you rest, only saw you work- but when you were away from the Boss and only amongst yourself or him, you had a certain sense of lightness to yourself. Like a feather, as cliché as it sounds.

If it wasn't for your hybrid features, Jungkook would've sworn you were more of a bird than a deer- put in a cage, fear used against yourself to lock you in and to the Golden House forever. Just like he himself was shackled up, bought and owned by the highest man just so he could have some amusement watching the tiger hybrid fight in the ring.

He was a toy to him. Just like you. Just like any other hybrid at the Golden House.

Sometimes, when no one was paying much attention, you'd visit Jungkook in his room. You'd clean his wounds, and most of all- you'd talk to him like an equal. You'd tell him of dreams you had at night, of thoughts you'd come up with during your chores, or with fantasies you had about the world outside the walls of the estate. And he'd listen to all of it, quietly, your voice soothing his wounds more than any medication ever could.

Maybe your fear towards him didn't just become normal to him, so he didn't notice it. Maybe it disappeared, slowly, and that's why it left your gaze. You didn't fear him. Didn't see him as an enemy. And maybe that's what really changed.

It was winter when he found out about the consequences to your actions.

He'd spotted you outside in the snow, white flakes falling steadily onto your head and clothes, feet naked and red from the cold. It was punishment- for caring for him, doing something you weren't told to. You'd hidden it, kept it a secret so he probably wouldn't feel bad- but the true nature of it was more selfish than that. "I don't want you to stop talking to me." You'd said when he'd confronted you about it. "I don't want you to ignore me like everyone else does." You'd cried. He hadn't even spoken much to you at all, and yet the few words he'd gifted to you were more than you had ever received before.

And so he had to compromise, and instead tried harder not to get injured in the ring, so no one would notice when you'd help him heal.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He knows that you saw the signs when his mind had started to slip. When his anger grew, and his sanity took a backseat inside his head.

Especially when the Head of the estate had decided it would be a delight to make you watch Jungkook fighting in the ring every time he had to as a way of trying to make you stop your foolish actions of helping the fighting hybrid- to show you how cruel and brutal the otherwise quiet and reserved tiger could really be, as he'd dislocate limbs and break bones night after night with a certain sense of bloodthirst in his gaze, eyes no longer kind but cold. How he'd bite and scratch with pure intent to hurt and end the fight in his favor, no matter the outcome for his opponent.

Jungkook knows that your view on him changed back then, even if you did not tell him that. He could feel it, in the way your hands would begin to tremble before touching him, or how you'd suddenly no longer reach out to him.

Gone was your attachment to him, murdered was any emotional connection you'd been creating.

At the end of the day, you had been nothing but a puppet to the head of the Golden House, nothing but a doll fed with orders because no matter what, you'd do it if it meant you'd survive another day. You would've probably even killed him if it had been asked of you- even though he wouldn't have let you.

You wouldn't have stood a chance against him.

The kiss you'd shared had been more than questionable, and he does feel bad about the circumstances back then.

He knew that it could've gotten you killed if anybody had ever caught you both, and he also knows that if it wasn't for his own initiative, you would've never made that step either. But he loved you, he loved you so much it hurt, and he hated being hurt because it was a constant for him he could never escape.

Everything he did, every situation he found himself in, every waking moment had been nothing but pain in one way or another. Nothing could soothe that ache in his body, could somehow make that burn in his bones feel a little lighter.

Nothing but your touch.

You cared. Even though he knew that you feared him, you still cared. And he hated it.

Why didn't you push him away, make him angry at you so he could have a solid reason to just get rid of you? The only reason he continued to endure wasn't so he could survive- he never gave a fuck about survival, none at all. But the heartbreak in your eyes, the fact that you'd be alone, the memory of you crying so bitterly about being ignored and put aside was continuously making him pull himself back up whenever knocked down, to win the fight and come back to the Golden House-

where you'd wait for him, soft hands on his skin relieving his rage just for a moment. Giving him a second to breathe. Where you'd kiss his wounds, and lift all the weight off of him for just a second.

And then you betrayed him.

"Thats a train ticket! I got it from Chun, she said it'll take you to busan." You'd told him, panic in your eyes as you'd pushed the slightly torn canvas bag filled with clothes and other necessities further into his arms. "After your fight tonight, there will be a dog hybrid named Min Yoongi in the locker room. He'll take you to the station.!" You said.

"And you?" He asks, dreading the answer he'd inevitably get.

"I'll be your insurance." You'd smiled.

"He'll take all his anger out on you-" He'd worried, and you'd nodded, and never looked so brave.

"I know." You'd told him. "But you'll live- and that's enough for me."

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"Flake has been replaced with Dohyun. The people aren't very happy with it, but he'll make them accept the change soon enough." Namjoon offers, setting some papers down in front of Jungkook, who looks like he might be asleep- face resting on his hand, arm perched up with his elbow on the armrest of his chair.

"Hm, they're never happy when a hybrid's on top." He mumbles lowly, eyes not opening. "I assume Flake didn't go… voluntarily." He asks.

"No." Namjoon responds. "Was executed on his balcony."

"Classy. I like it." Jungkook chuckles, eyes slowly opening as he takes in a deep breath. "Hm, I'm hungry-" He starts, looking at his watch on his wrist. "-let's hope Hideo doesn't piss me off tonight, or I might just have to swap him too." He growls, slowly getting up to prepare for the dinner he has to attend with the human gangleader.

Jungkook had the chance to get out. He's been given the chance after all, by the only person he's ever really considered he 'loved'- and yet his thirst for blood wouldn't let him go. The need for revenge was way too big inside him to be just satisfied with living his own life away from his past- but he couldn't.

They took everything he ever had away from him. They took you away from him. And he'd never forgive that.

So he began to convince Yoongi to join him in his plans, took the first few pillars out to make the fundamentals of the underground gang life crumble. He shook up the entire game, and began to 'swap out' human leaders with hybrids from his own rows- a gang he'd build up himself, consisting of almost exclusively hybrids of all kinds. He knows he's not doing any good with the way he's doing things- but he doesn't care.

If he can't change the game, he'll become the best player instead.

And currently, he's definitely on the road to take the seat as the king.

"Jungkook!" The rather eccentric man stands up, opens his arms for the hybrid who does not attempt to return the gesture or accept the invitation at all. "My favorite big cat, come take a seat!" He laughs it off, sits down with Jungkook, who keeps his face stoic and expressionless. "Can we have some chairs here please? I'd hate for your friends to stay standing while we eat-" He tries, but Jungkook shakes his head.

"No need. I'd rather have them pay at attention." Jungkook responds, and Hideo laughs in front of him.

"Always so on edge. Never change my boy!" He jokes, before the food is being placed on the table. "So. I heard you let Flake tumble down his balcony like a dramatic movie-climax." He chuckles, cutting into his steak. Jungkook nods, begins to eat as well, but keeps his eyes on the man in front of him. "Quite the spectacle. Made the higher up's a little nervous." He tells him.

"Good." Jungkook simply answers, and Hideo laughs.

Hideo is one of the only few human leaders left in his original spot- mainly because the man is rather interested in surviving, and keeping his head in one piece. He's smart, albeit a little bit unhinged- sometimes even causing Jungkook himself to feel uneasy around the man. He's a wildcard, and does what he wants whenever he wants, only follows rules if they're in his favor.

So Jungkook is wary of him, and doesn't trust that man as far as the bridge of his own nose.

"They say his minions aren't too happy with your new choice." The man mumbles, shrugging his shoulders however, clearly unbothered. "But they just don't like the change. What you should worry about however, is the money you're loosing." He says, making Jungkook's eyes sharpen.

"What money are you talking about?" He asks, finishing up his plate.

"The money you're not aware of." Hideo chuckles. "Flake had two daughters, and rumor has it they both emptied their bank accounts a few days before you struck and pushed Rapunzel down her tower." The man informs him, licking his knife while looking at Jungkook, who tries hard to make nothing visible on his face. He knows exactly what the man is trying to tell him.

Somehow, those daughters knew Jungkook would attack. Which in turns, means someone told them.

Which hints at a snitch.

"Sakata is currently finding them as we speak, so no worries about that." Hideo suggests, finishing his meal as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "The only thing you should do, would be to.. sniff out who needs to go, so to speak." He says, grinning at Yoongi, who pins his ears back in irritation at the joke. Jungkook leans back, tilts his head once, before he stands up.

"I want to know the whereabouts of those two daughters the moment you have them." Jungkook says dryly. "Do not kill them. I want to.. talk to them personally." He orders, and Hideo laughs, nodding with his hands clapping once.

"Of course! Oh and-" The human man grins, and it tells Jungkook that the man has something to say that will definitely cause problems. "-I heard my dear Chisoo left you a present at your estate?" He says, catching Jungkook off guard for a second, as the tiger hybrid looks to his side towards Namjoon, who shares an equally confused gaze. "Oh, you've not seen it yet? Hm, it does explain his good mood, doesn't it?" Hideo asks one of his guards who doesn't react. "Ah, I really liked that guy. Don't be too harsh on the boy, yeah? He doesn't know how to.. read a room, you know? His jokes can be terrible." He laughs.

Jungkook slowly leaves, but as soon as he sits inside the back of his car, he's growling out orders. "Call Chisoo right now." He demands Namjoon, who already dials the number. "If he doesn't answer we'll pay him a visit right now." He says, waiting for the speaker system of his car to reveal the voice of the man.

"Jungkook! What's up my guy?" The young voice chimes out.

"Cut the shit. What did you do?" Jungkook demands, and Chisoo just laughs on the other end.

"Oh you've not seen it yet? I thought you'd like it!" He says, clearly eating. "Saw the poor thing and remembered something I heard from a former guard of the Golden House." He chuckles, and Jungkook's blood runs cold. "Look man, I have some urgent business right now. If you don't want it, you can just get rid of it- I won't judge." He laughs, before he hangs up the phone.

"Tell Seokjin to check the premises before we drive back." Yoongi informs him from the driver's seat, instructing Namjoon who calls the man right away.

"Seokjin." Jungkook says as the phone is picked up. "What the fuck did Chisoo bring?" He demands to know, and grows increasingly uneasy when the answer isn't what he hoped he'd get.

"I.. you should just not worry about it. It was probably meant to just anger you." He tells the tiger hybrid, not specifying things. "I've already dealt with.. it, just-"

"That's not your decision to make." Jungkook growls. "I'm on my way back right now, and I want whatever it is in my office before I'm back at the estate. Am I making myself clear?" He demands.

"..yes." Seokjin simply complies, though with great hesitation.

Because he knows, the moment Jungkook knows what it is, there will be nothing capable of calming Jungkook down.

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One, two, three.

You're counting each tick of the clock standing on the table in the office, waiting for something to happen. That's all you've been instructed to do- the man earlier having escorted you here, and just told you to 'wait', and nothing else. So you do just that, naked feet on the soft carpet, intricate details on the fabric almost hypnotizing you. It's already a lot warmer in here than in your room at the Golden House- and the man who brought you here had given you his jacket too, probably because he thought you were shaking from the cold.

Which you did- but you also tend to shiver from fear, mostly due to your hybrid instincts.

Just.. in here, you don't really feel scared. It smells familiar in here, like something you forgot existed- almost like a childhood memory, far away but reawakened right in this moment. It soothes your worries and slows down your thoughts tremendously.

ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six.

You can hear faint noises now, ears turning towards the door behind you, though your body otherwise doesn't move. you don't dare to, since the handcuffs around your wrists might make a noise, and no one told you if you were allowed to move anyways. So you just stay still, even when you can hear someone argue in front of the door, angrily, upset. The voice is familiar, again- but you don't recall a face to it whatsoever.

One hundred.

The door opens, people walk in. Your face stays lowered, you don't even dare to swallow the saliva in your mouth. "Why the fuck did he send me a hybrid?!" Someone growls, and it makes your throat clog up, angry tone causing your muscles to tremble once more. "Fuck. And why is she not-" He starts, before he stops right next to you, frozen in place almost like you are- though due to different reasons.

"Jungkook-" Someone sighs, when Jungkook next to you talks again, but in a truly bone-chilling tone.

It's so low, and steady, that it makes everyone wordlessly follow the command.

"Out." He says. "Everyone, out, right fucking now." He growls, and both Namjoon and Yoongi leave, though the dog hybrid hesitates a little- shocked as well by the sight of you, most likely.

Once the door closes, it quiets down. All you can really hear is the way the man called Jungkook walks around, paces for a good while, clearly in distress. You're not sure why you're causing him to be like this- maybe he doesn't know if he wants to kill you or not. Or he's fighting primal urges to hunt you down as a predator hybrid. It could be a lot of things.

You lost track of the ticking. You can't hear it properly with Jungkook moving around like that.

"Don't- stop doing that.!" He suddenly says, and you notice yourself panicking. What are you doing right now? You're not moving, you're not looking at him, and neither have you said anything- though that's out of the question anyways. What are you doing that you need to stop? You're barely even breathing- maybe that's it? It's an odd request, and you doubt you can properly follow it for long, but if he wants you to do that-

"Stop being scared!" He suddenly roars at you, hands on your shoulders making you whimper out of pure instinct, as you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly. "Don't-.. I'm not.." He stammers, before he takes a deep breath, seems to control himself as his hands leave your shoulders, instead push themselves into the pockets of his slacks. "Look at me." He demands, and you do just that.

His hair is fairly long, growing over his ears, curly and a deep black. There's two round tiger ears between his wild hair, one of them a little torn, but the scar seems long healed. His eyes are piercing, watching you intently as if he's searching for something with desperation, jawline sharp but his face has a certain roundness to it.

It doesn't distract you from the danger he radiates, tail swaying impatiently behind him. He's a tiger, in every way- large shoulders and powerful muscles unable to be hidden even underneath the suit he wears.

But there's a certain shift in his posture and most of all his gaze as he seems to realize something about you.

"Who am I." He asks, or more so orders you to answer. You begin to panic once more. How are you supposed to answer that? "Who. Am. I." He repeats slower, and you open your mouth to say something-

though no coherent word leaves your lips, only barely a noise that even sounds like it hurts, and it makes your eyes sting.

Jungkook seems to grow angry again. Is he upset that you can't answer? Will he kill you now, because you're unable to give him a proper response?

"Do-" He looks absolutely devastated, and for some reason, it makes you sad. "Do you know who I am?" he quietly asks, bracing himself for the answer he might receive.

Though nothing could prepare him for the pain he feels in his entire body when you quietly shake your head, confirming his worst fears.

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You've not only forgotten him- but everything else too, it seems like, according to Namjoon, who'd been trying to sort you out since Jungkook left you in his office, unable to really have you close like that any longer. His friend had tried it all, and had also let someone with medical knowledge have a look at you- which also gave an explanation about why you just won't talk.

You can't. It's not clear what exactly must've happened, but there's a definite injury there that won't let you make any sound without pain.

It's now pretty obvious to him that you must've gotten caught giving him a way out- and you probably paid the consequences for it too. Whatever happened caused you to forget most of your past, and no one can be sure if it's permanent, or just temporary. What is clear however is that you're completely hollow. There's no trace of a personality in anything you do, no personal preferences towards anything, no interest, not even very noticeable emotions.

It's not surprising to him- and maybe that's what pains him the most.

"So if you don't tell her what to do, she will just do nothing at all?" Jungkook asks as he looks through some documents to distract himself. The more he thinks about you, the darker the possible punishments that you most likely received become in his head- mind forcing scene after scene of you into his brain.

"Won't even sleep if no one tells her to. She was awake the whole night because no one told her when to sleep I guess." Namjoon says, arms crossed. "It's hard to tell what she's thinking considering she doesn't talk." Namjoon sighs defeated, while Jungkook stares at the papers for a moment.

You used to talk a lot, back when he was still used for underground fighting, and you were nothing but a maid for the gangleader. He remembers you humming random songs while dressing his wounds- something you told him was to mostly distract yourself from not crying in front of him.

"I'll fight better next time." He'd told you while you carefully placed the large plaster onto one of the scratches that's still bleeding. "So you won't have to cry."

"I want every bit of info as to where she came from before Chisoo got his hands on her." He tells Yoongi who's been sitting in the corner.

"I believe Chisoo bought her straight from the Golden House. Overheard him talk to one of the guests." Yoongi responds, and Jungkook nods.

"Good." He smirks, standing up, and bracing his hands on the table with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "I've got some unfinished business with them anyways." He says. The Golden House was no longer a place of fear for him- because just like you, Jungkook isn't who he used to be.

"You're going to start a war over a hybrid friend you made years ago?" Namjoon worries. "Jungkook.." he sighs, but the Tiger hybrid doesn't back down.

Because you're not just a friend.

You were his Savior, the only soft thing he's ever had in his life.

"No. I'm not just starting a war-" Jungkook growls like the predator he is. "I'm getting my revenge."

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Yoongi watches over you like a guard dog, just like Jungkook had told him to.

You'd overheard the tall tiger hybrid give those instructions to Yoongi just before he left in his car, and now you're left standing in the hallway where someone last told you to wait. "Come. You need to eat." The dog hybrid mumbles, walking a step before he checks if you follow. You do.

Of course you do.

You'd jump out the fucking window if someone told you to do so.

Before you were taken in by the Golden House, you'd actually roamed the streets with the dog hybrid together. You'd slept in a storage unit his past owner had rented before he died, a small place of shelter you eventually shared with Yoongi before you met Yuan Shun, the past head of the Golden House. You'd been way too naive back then. Told Yoongi you'd finally found a home to go to, finally found work to pay him back all his kindness.

You didn't know what you'd get yourself into. Not before Shun had forced you to get the small tattoo on your wrist that would forever bind you to him no matter if he died or lived. Every member of the Golden House had to get it one way or another- there was no way around it.

It was burned into everyone's wrist, whether they wanted it or not.

And once you're in, there is no out.

"Jungkook won't harm you." Yoongi says as he pulls out a bowl of something prepared, before he puts it into the microwave to heat it up. "He's just.. he can be a bit.." the dog hybrid sighs, shaking his head a little, unsure how to phrase it properly. Jungkook has his own problems, and it's pretty obvious to everyone around him that he's not the sanest of people any longer. No one can blame him for cracking a few braincells after what's happened to him, that's true- but that doesn't mean that he's a monster.

He's just scarred by his past, and haunted by his potential future.

You want to ask Yoongi what your connection to the tiger hybrid is. You really do- but you also feel like it's none of your business. If anything, you're simply waiting for orders, for a job you'll be working as from now on, a task you'll be given in this new place. The dynamic of things here is confusing to you, how everyone seems to walk freely, no one ever standing in one place waiting to be needed. You even saw someone laughing in one of the hallways.

It's eerie. You don't like it here.

"Eat." Yoongi says, before he holds your wrist, one of his ears twitching in irritation when he notices it's the one with the fine lined burn mark of the Golden House. "- when it's cooled down a little, of course." He sighs, and you nod after a moment, staring at the bowl of pasta.

Waiting. Counting the ticking from the clock in the kitchen.

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"I don't give a flying fuck-" Jungkook growls, knee connecting with the man's jaw once more before he pushes the chair back, gripping his face to force him to look at him. "-about your so-called loyalty." He finishes his sentence. "The only reason I'm not breaking your jaw yet is because I need you to be able to talk." He threatens, before he steps back, and wipes his hand on a tissue.

"I'm not talking. Daeho will-" He starts, when Jungkook slowly and carefully loads a black gun in his hand, pulling the magazine back to ready it in his hands.

"Daeho will what?" Jungkook almost sings. "Kill you?" He asks with feigned innocence in his tone, while he walks forward, and points the nuzzle of the gun straight at the man's kneecap. "How nice. But you see, I'm not Daeho." The tiger tells him, tilting his head a little.

"And I'm not nice."

A shot rings through the small room, followed by agonized screaming, and the gun reloading in Jungkook's hands. "Now, I'll try again. Why did Daeho sell her to Chisoo?" He asks, and the man takes a few deep breaths.

"He wanted to fuck with you." He grits out from between his teeth. "He knew it would piss you off. He technically wanted to send you a tape- you know what kind." He says, and Jungkook's blood boils up again. Of course he knows what kind of actions that sick man would have forced you to do, what exactly he'd make Jungkook watch. "But he thought-.." The man needs to catch himself a little. "He thought it'd make more sense to give her to you instead. Alive."

"Why?" Jungkook asks.

"Because you'd lose your fucking- whatever the fuck you're doing!" He groans. "You'd turn soft. Maybe even break at the sight of her all fucked up like she is now." He explains. "That's why he messed her up before you got her." he says, clearly sweating now from his body trying to keep up with the rapid bloodloss.

Jungkook is silent, before he unloads the gun, clicks the safety in place, and puts it back into it's holster on his belt, turning to leave the room. "Wait- wait, what about me-!"

"You can bleed out right here like the pig you are."

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Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Mostly, because whatever was, isn't any better than what is now. The blood staining Jungkook's hands is still the same consistency as back in the fighting ring, it still washes down the drain the same way as it did before. There's nothing new to the way his knuckles hurt from the force of the punches he'd delivered to the man, and yet, there's a new sting in his chest that just won't leave.

Before you came here, he had at least a way of pacifying his worries about you. Before, he'd been able to just convince himself that you probably got yourself killed for him- that you'd been set free after all, finally escaping your cage once and for all.

The fact that you did not, and instead just went from one cage to the next, makes him nauseous. He doesn't even want to know what you had to endure throughout the years you'd been apart. Now you're just a shell- a plastic lifeless version of what you once were, nothing of your soul remaining inside of you. Could he even consider you 'you' any longer? Or were you now someone else?

Are you someone at all?

"Where is she?" Jungkook asks Seokjin, who'd brought him a plate of dinner into his office.

"She's eating with Yoongi downstairs in the kitchen." He tells his boss and friend, who's currently looking outside the window facing the balcony. "What do we do with her?"

I don't know, is what Jungkook's only answer can be. Because he surely doesn't- he's unsure if actually killing you would be a more generous thing to do than letting you simply waste away in the state that you're in right now. What you are, in this moment, can't be called 'alive'. There's nothing living behind those eyes, nothing but fear.

But he also knows that he'd never be able to put the gun to your head and shoot.

"Can I give a suggestion?" Jin asks after a moment of silence, and Jungkook turns his head, nodding. "What if you turn this whole 'joke' around?"

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks, body now moving as well to face his older friend.

"Right now, her presence is doing exactly what it's supposed to." The cat hybrid says. "She's making you lose focus, makes you act without thinking. That's what they want."

"I'm not killing her." Jungkook defends.

"I'm not asking you to." Seokjin says, walking closer. "But think about it. What about her is making you feel like this the most?" He urges.

The fear you have. The fact you forgot him. The terror in your eyes. The emptiness you represent.

"Jungkook, you told me once that back then, she was the only thing keeping you sane in that place." The man says, white ears twitching between his hair. "And she can become just that once again."

"Have you seen her?" Jungkook growls.

"Have you?" Jin challenges. "You're in a place of power here. You call the shots, this-" He gestures around. "-all of this is yours. You offer us protection, a home, a place to let our guard down for once. You're not who you were before. You turned your life around- and you can do it again, but this time, it'll be her's." He says, and suddenly, Jungkook understands what his friend is trying to tell him.

This is his place. His territory. He's in charge. He's in control.

Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Because he'll be the change it needs to turn this twisted joke around.

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"Remember, he's nothing to be scared of." Yoongi tells you, before he opens the door, and gently pushes you inside by your lower back- before he leaves you alone with the tiger hybrid in the room, no longer wearing his jacket, only dressed in a casually unbuttoned black shirt and slacks.

Even his gun is on the table. You could take it at any moment, shoot him, no problem. You know how to shoot a gun. Is he that stupid?

Probably not. There has to be a reason for his actions- you don't think he got to his position by being reckless.

He moves slowly, a lot more confident and most of all relaxed than when you last saw him- the person he is right in this moment a stark contrast to who he'd been when he first saw you. It makes you suspicious, unsure, because if he houses so many different versions of himself inside his body, how could you ever know who the real one is?

"The rules in this house, and under my hand, are simple." He says, voice surprisingly calm as he speaks. "Loyalty." He states, looks at you- and from the fact alone that he doesn't seem to mind, you guess that Yoongi was right when he said that you were allowed to do that. "As long as you don't betray me, I will offer you a safe place, and protection."

That doesn't make sense to you.

If that was true, that would mean that he'd just take in random people just because they don't snitch on him- what the hell would he even get out of that? Inside the Golden House, there were already rumors about him. That he's possessed by the drive to 'change the game' and put hybrids up on top, an odd way to live since apparently he'd escaped this entire circus years prior. Why would he willingly return to it?

Even worse, play the game he barely managed to get out of?

He sits down on the edge of his bed, and only now do you realize where exactly you might be right now. And it confuses you even more. He's letting you into his personal rooms?

Why?

"Come here." He says, and your legs move without any of your control. Like a puppet on a string you're pulled towards him, unable to really go against any orders told to you, like you're mind controlled. The moment you stand in front of him, he reaches out his hand- and you're torn by the possible choice given to you. But if he reaches out, you're supposed to take the hand, right?

Instead, you put your own in his, not making a decision at all.

Control is a scary thing. You don't want it.

He looks at your wrist as he turns your hand over, thumb running over the signature branding you have on your skin, burned in scar never fading. It's when you can spot something on the hand that holds yours, between all the ink and color he's placed underneath the skin. A scar, achingly similar to your own.

Your eyes find his- but he's not looking at you.

So he's from the same place as you once were. Is that why he smells so familiar? Did you forget him? Or did you never know him at all, and simply caught traces of him during your time at the Golden House?

Who is he?

"From now on, you're mine." He tells you, and you soak up that info like a sponge. "You belong here, and nowhere else." He says, and you nod to make sure he knows that you understand. There's a small moment where he simply looks at you, before he nods as well, and lets go of your hand. "Can you write?" He asks, and you eagerly nod, finally expecting a task from him. You'll be useful, you'll have something to do- you won't just have to stand around and wait for something that never happens. "Good. That gives me at least some way you can talk to me, I guess." He mumbles to himself as he gets up and walks past you, to dig around in a small drawer of a desk close by. "I want you to talk. If not with your voice-" He offers a small, palm sized notebook to you, a pen clipped to it's side. "-then with this."

You take the booklet with a nod, opening it to write something down. He expects a thank you- but that's not what he gets.

'What is my purpose here?' you've written, and he sighs to himself.

"Heal." He says, making you look at him confused. You're already starting to show a lot more emotions he notices, and it calms him down quite a bit, because that means that even though you may have forgotten him, you're at least slowly adapting to the overall environment you're now in. You move to write something again, before you hold out the booklet.

'There has to be a job for me.' you write, and he tilts his head at you, arms crossed, veins clear under his forearms, exposed since he'd rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"And I just told you what it is." He responds, face expressionless, but eyes glimmering with something almost mischievous. "Your job is to heal, adjust, and adapt to the way I run things." He tells you. "But if you want a.. job, I can try and arrange something for you." He huffs, dissatisfied, but still caving in.

You show him the opened page again, something added to the bottom.

'Thank you' is written there.

He just nods, and knocks on his door to give Namjoon the sign to take you to your room so you can sleep- and leave him by himself for a moment, as he watches the calm night-sky from his window, world steadily moving on while he doesn't know what's to come for him.

Even if Seokjin is right, there is no guarantee that this whole thing won't just backfire horribly. And there's still the looming threat of someone amongst his people who's currently the biggest danger to the house of cards Jungkook had barely built up over the years until now. If that person just so much as pushes one more card, it might all come falling down-

and this time, he'll take you with him.

If he dies, you can't survive.

Because if you do, you'll probably face a fate he doesn't even want to imagine.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

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trippinsorrows · 4 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired.

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase.

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion.

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything.

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all.

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever.

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her.

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it.

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done.

At least since the murder of their mother.

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth.

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this.

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does.

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done.

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine.

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space.

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability.

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess.

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer.

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped.

He’s pissed.

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?”

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother.

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s.

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him.

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her.

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet.

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.”

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial.

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience.

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary.

And the day isn’t even halfway over.

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message.

Roman: Come over tonight.

As expected, her reply comes almost right away.

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline.

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people.

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well.

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen.

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves.

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity.

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in.

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops.

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons.

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors.

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger.

“Where’s the room?”

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest.

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance.

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room.

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts.

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning.

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located.

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper.

And that’s exactly what happens.

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one.

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse.

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection.

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight.

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though.

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.”

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go.

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome.

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.”

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face.

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing.

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.”

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable.

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store.

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is.

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked.

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary.

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t.

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more.

He’s ignored them everytime.

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight.

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight.

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…”

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected.

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone.

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized.

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?” His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all.

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him.

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest.

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

—-----

Roman finds her out back on the patio.

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone.

And she is.

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day.

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him.

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about.

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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misojunnie · 1 month ago

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COVET (trailer) 𖣂

yang jungwon & riki nishimura.

the first installation of fright night.

click here ^

how far would you go for love?

summary: your boyfriend jungwon has always been a kind soul. he refused to hurt a spider, much less a human, but when a new, younger, attractive admirer enters your life, something in him changes. as jealousy begins to consume him, and the competition between the two boys ensues, you watch your life turn upside down.

pairing: bf!jungwon vs. admirer!riki x fem!reader

genre: psychological thriller, horror, love triangle, established relationship au

warnings: violence, dark and disturbing behavior, substance use, murder, slow burn (only gets scary at the end) no mature themes! enha's behavior and personalities are not a reflection of reality, it's just a story

join the taglist! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @theothernads @adoredbyjay @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee

covet is out! read it here

more under the cut!

Jungwon had been watching you.

In his heart, he knew it was wrong. He had never not trusted you before, and he wasn’t sure what was happening to him. He was uneasy, anxious, and upset. Yesterday, the two of you had lunch and he barely touched his food. That night, he didn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like guys hadn’t pursued you before. In high school, boys would hit on you at parties, in class, even on your dates. He’d tell them to scram, and then you’d laugh about it together afterward. It had never bothered him when other guys were interested in you; if anything, it made him more proud of himself for being with you. In fact, he wasn’t even certain that this particular man was interested in you at all.

That was until he saw you having dinner together.

You were sitting in the corner booth at the restaurant you worked at. Through the foggy glass, Jungwon could see his face, smiling. His eyes crescent moons as he chuckled at something you said. Neither of you were eating, just speaking. He couldn’t tell if you were smiling back at him, and he wanted to know desperately.

When he saw you get up and go to the kitchen, he checked the time on his watch. Your shift was over, which meant he needed to get a move on, and he shoved his hands in his pockets before speeding in the direction of your shared apartment.

He felt horrible about what he had just done. He knew he was your boyfriend, but watching you without you knowing felt like a crime. He walked with a pit in his stomach, anxious to beat you home. He didn’t want you to know he had been acting strangely.

He trusted you. He trusted you with his entire heart, as he had been for the past four years, without regret.

But could he trust the people around you?

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki had been thinking about you all day.

He wasn’t sure what it was that attracted him, but he found you interesting. What he liked the most was that you were genuine. He had a good eye for superficial people, and you weren’t one of them. You meant everything that came out of your mouth.

Riki had been a heartbreaker in high school, and he planned on being the same in college. Not a week went by where his breakups didn’t scandalize the school, and that was just how he liked it. Some people thought he was a womanizer; he disagreed. He thought that attraction was power, and people should use it to their advantage.

The truth was, Riki wasn’t fond of men. He thought they were liars. Maybe he and Jungwon had something in common in that regard. He liked that women were honest, open with their emotions and intentions. Men hid their motivations, hid their secrets, hid everything. Riki was an open book. He told every girl whose heart he’d broken that it would end up badly. And when it inevitably went wrong, he said I told you so.

And because Riki didn’t like men, he wanted to take things from them. When he found a man he didn’t trust, a man he knew was rotten, he robbed him of his worth. His happiness. His girlfriend. And he was going to do it again here, he was determined.

He didn’t trust your boyfriend. He may seem perfect on paper, but Riki could tell there was something rotting beneath the surface. Everyone had something to hide. And he was going to expose whatever your boyfriend was hiding.

It’s what he always did.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

a/n: hello my lovelies! I made a trailer for this, and I’m planning to make one of all the projects in this series <3 I hope you all enjoy and you’re looking forward to covet being released! coming very soon xoxo

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arctrooper69 · 8 months ago

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As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 9:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy, hurt feelings, tiny bit of sexual tension

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

The flight back to Ord Mantell was silent. Hunter sat stiffly in the cockpit after checking on Omega. The rest of the team sat in silence under the dimmed lights.

The situation played over and over again through his brain.

Omega dropping from the vents alone. Without you. It was so hard to dispel the fear that flooded his veins like ice water.

Were you hurt? Captured? Dead!?

Then you’d entered the room with that staff, that blaster bolt so narrowly missing your head.

Why was it so important to grab that staff? Why risk your own life and Omega’s just for a few lousy credits.

I thought I knew her better than that.

Then there was that all-consuming guilt-laced horror when the pair of you fought the guards so viciously and he could do nothing but watch. Powerless. Afraid. Angry at the smugglers. Angry at you for being so reckless. Angry at himself for being able to do nothing but watch it happen.

---

The others seemed to know better than to bother Hunter right now, but you had to know why he was so upset.

Part of you knew it was you - your reckless plan that could’ve gone wrong in so many different ways.

But how was it any different from one of his plans that always seemed to turn to chaos? That tiny thought voiced defiantly, only serving to fuel the anger and frustration that boiled through your veins.

Against your better judgment you strode into the cockpit.

“Hunter, I…” you stopped as he held up a firm hand.

“Go sit down, we’re about to land. We’ll talk about this later.”

No, I want to talk about this now! The impatience rattled around inside, barely able to be contained.

“But…”

“Now.” He commanded, pointing to the seats. “I’m giving you an order, try not to disobey this one too.” His words were sharp and impossible to argue against.

“Yes sir.” You answered harshly, matching his tone.

There wasn’t much discussion upon landing, either. Nor was there any argument when Wrecker and Omega took off to celebrate their Mantell Mix tradition.

Echo and Tech disappeared soon after. The bitter taste in your mouth festered as you watched Cid carefully place the staff in her back room. You stood and walked out of the parlor.

We got the staff, we got paid, and nobody got hurt. It sounded fine to you. In fact, it sounded like success, yet you couldn’t shake that growing hurt of disappointment and shame.

That should’ve been enough. I should’ve been enough. Maybe I could’ve done more. Maybe I should’ve done less.

But the reality of it all only served to solidify the nagging knowledge that you really didn’t belong here.

Sighing, you walked faster down the street away from the figure you knew was following you.

"What the hell was that!?" Hunter growled from behind you as you stalked back to the Marauder. Clenching your jaw, you purposely ignored him, just wanting to shower, grab some food and forget about the whole thing. You were starving and could definitely use a good long nap.

“Hey!” Hunter grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “No. You don’t get to ignore me when you nearly got Omega and the rest of this squad killed!”

You jerked your arm free with a huff which just seemed to aggravate him further. “Omega is fine.” you snapped. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. I got the job done. You got paid. What more do you want from me!? You wanna hold hands and talk about our feelings?”

Heavy, angry breaths forced themselves from your heaving chest. You were fully aware that Hunter could easily hear how quickly your pulse thundered in your ears without a chance to easily reign it back.

“I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed it!” he snapped.

You scoffed, “You all do it all the kriffing time! I don’t see you shouting at Omega when she plays by her own rules! So what’s so different when I do it!? Huh?”

Hunter was silent. You could feel the anger simmering beneath his skin. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, sounding more like a groan of frustration. "For once in your life would it kill you to use your damn head!? You almost got yourself killed out there, and I…!” He stopped himself.

“What do you care?” You spit venomously, spinning around to face him again. “According to you lot I’m just a ‘useful asset’!”

“What?” Hunter ran a hand through his hair, visibly confused.

You took a breath. “I heard you talking to Tech!”

A look of realization began to appear on his face as you looked down. “That's not - “

“No!” You interrupted angrily. “You think I'm reckless and irritable and only useful when you need me.”

“No! I didn't mean it like that. I was - “

You held up a hand to stop him. “It's fine, Hunter.” You said coldly. “At least I know my place now so thank you for bringing that to my attention.”

“But I…” Hunter stuttered, looking completely bewildered.

“Stop.” You commanded. “I said it's fine. It hurt, but I forgive you. Everything's fine.”

He could only watch as you stormed down the ramp, leaving him in a cold silence as it hissed closed behind you.

He sat unmoving for what seemed like hours.

The hatch opened again after a few minutes and for a brief second, Hunter felt his heart race raising a hopeful gaze as the ramp slid down but it was only Wrecker clamoring up the ramp with a crate of thermal detonators. He set them down and raised an eyebrow sticking a thumb out behind him towards the open door. “What’s with her?”

Hunter sighed, “Don’t ask.” Shoulders slumped, he turned and headed into the cockpit. Maybe he could convince Tech to let him help with one of his projects. He could use the distraction.

Tech glanced up as Hunter all but fell into an empty chair. He raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?”

“She heard us talking the other night,” said Hunter.

A look of confusion flashed across his face for a split second before quickly realizing what his brother was referring to. “Oh!” Tech looked up, “So then, I assume she now knows how you feel, and judging from your facial expression and closed off body language, she does not reciprocate those feelings.” Tech paused and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry.”

Hunter shook his head. “No, she only happened to hear you say that she’s a ‘useful asset’!” He glared at his brother as though to blame him for the entire misunderstanding.

“Ah..” Tech put a finger to his chin in thought. “That is most unfortunate.”

Hunter slumped lower in his seat. “Yep… and what’s worse is that she heard me agree with you and now she thinks that’s how we all feel about her.”

“But that was only a small sample of our conversation and very much taken out of context. If she had stayed and listened a bit longer she would have realized this.”

“Well she didn’t, and now she thinks I hate her.”

Tech frowned. “Per our conversation, that is quite the opposite of the sentiments you expressed.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Perhaps you should speak with her about it. Explain to her that what she overheard when she was eavesdropping, was entirely incorrect.”

Hunter shook his head.

“Or I could tell her if you prefer,” Tech continued helpfully.

“No!” Omega leapt from her room, bypassing the ladder entirely, and landed on her feet with a thud, nearly tripping over Gonky as she slid into the cockpit in front of them.

Hunter’s head snapped up in alarm.

“No.” She repeated adamantly, “Do not. Please do not. The last thing she needs to hear from us is blaming her for the miscommunication!”

“Speaking of eavesdropping…” Hunter crossed his arms, looking at his sister who responded with a sheepish grin. He rolled his eyes, not able to help the smirk that pulled at his lips at her antics.

“What? It’s a small ship. I can hear everything.”

“I wasn’t blaming her.” Tech said defensively. Hunter’s face fell again as Tech brought their attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well she’ll probably think we are if you say it like that.” Omega told him.

“She won’t talk to me.” Hunter shook his head, “Besides, she left after I yelled at her.”

Omega looked up at him with a grimace, “You did sound really mad…”

Hunter winced at the blame that flashed nearly imperceptibly through her eyes. “She almost got both you and herself killed during that last mission!” His voice grew hard again. “She’s reckless and I hate it!” His voice grew softer, “I can’t wa- ”

A scoff interrupted his lament as both Tech and Omega sported alarmed looks. Hunter turned to see you leaning against the bulkhead, face contorted in a mixture of anger and hurt. He could see the telltale shine of unshed tears you fought so hard to hide. Hidden from the world but not from him. Hunter noticed everything - especially when it came to you.

You chuckled dryly. “Nice to know how you really feel.” Your voice cracked, desperately straining to hold back tears. “I came to apologize and hear what you were going to tell me before I left. I gave it some thought, you know? I thought, ‘maybe I did misunderstand him’.”

You shook your head, “But no…. I guess I was right.” You spun around, heading to your bunk, pushing past Echo who’d returned just in time to witness your words.

“Wait…” Hunter stood up, calling after you but you did nothing to let him know you’d even heard him.

Quickly taking a few steps forward, fueled by a burning need not to let you slip through his fingers again, he grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

You let out a gasp as your back hit the cold of the wall, feeling a strange warmth sink into your bones as he pressed you in place.

No. You didn’t want to be here. Hunter didn’t want you to be here.

But yet…

All was silent as you found your eyes drawn up to his. A painful longing drove a wedge in an ever widening crack in the wall you’d so carefully thrown up to protect yourself from him.

This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Please…” he was practically begging now. Then he froze.

There it was again. That scent. The one that drove him crazy. The one he’d smelt on you when you’d come out of the fresher just a few days ago.

“Hunter!” Your voice had an edge to it.

No matter the hurt, leaving was the best option. You couldn’t stand how these mixed signals, sending you spinning one way and then the other.

He groaned, “Will you please calm down and let me explain!?”

"Calm down!?" The moment was broken and the anger returned, hot and fierce, sending rivers of steel to reinforce the shoddily crafted walls, turning it into a fortress. He would not break through so easily.

Not now. Not ever. He made his choice.

You ripped your arm from his grasp and spun around, anger blazing through your eyes. “Go kriff yourself, Hunter!” You turned to leave but spun back around, eyes blazing. “Actually, no. Go kriff Tara!”

The anger and hurt bubbled over. If he wouldn’t be honest with you, at least he could be honest with himself.

Conscious thought was gone. Emotion spewed like venom. “I saw you getting cozy with her at Cid’s so you obviously have feelings for her!” You spun back around, forcefully grabbing your go-bag from the foot of your bunk and strapping your blasters tightly around your thigh and another at your side. Without a second glance, the ramp hissed open and you strode out, missing how Hunter’s mouth fell open in a confused, but reluctant understanding as the ramp hissed shut behind you.

Oh. The realization soaked him to the bone as if he’d been woken up by a bucket of ice water.

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

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hispg · 1 year ago

Text

Her

Pairings: ID Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: Another day as being a spy, this time working for the United States president. Was just another work until you met the agent Leon Kennedy. And well, things may get a bit heated between you two.

Wc: 14k(I'm sorry)

Warnings: Reader is a spy/mercenary, violent behaviors (both sides), enemies to lovers(I tried), smut, choking, descriptions of violence, unprotected sex, injuries, violence,mutual pining.

Notes: This one took so long, but it's here. I hope that you guys like it. Also, I was thinking about the music 'her' from Chase atlantic while writing this, hence the title. Also, sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was already very late at the White House, and all that was left was a few poor employees overloading themselves with tasks here and there. Despite the hustle and bustle, there was a certain kind of calm. After all, it was late, and the night itself helped to bring a certain silence with it.

Leon had stayed a little longer, drinking a cup of coffee while reading some documents. About a new virus that was circulating, it wasn't as if it was news to him. To be honest, he felt more exhausted than upset by the situation. These things just didn't seem to stop happening. No matter how hard he tried, there was always some crazy bio-terrorist out there.

And again, the job fell to him. At least he hoped this mission would be easier, quicker, and not too time-consuming, like the last ones he'd been on.

After a weary sigh, he closed the folder with the documents. Taking the last sip of coffee and getting up, he would finish reading this at the hotel where he was staying, he felt too tired to continue at the white house, and he would most likely end up falling asleep there.

So he left where he was, walking through the empty corridors of that place. He even felt relieved that there was no one he knew there. He was too drained for any kind of conversation.

As he walked down the corridors, he couldn't help but notice the approaching female figure. He meant it, but it was impossible not to hear the sounds of high heels colliding with the floor.

Despite this, it wasn't someone he knew. Or had even seen walking through the white house, which was already a strange sign, it wasn't hard to guess that everyone who entered that place had to be authorized to do so, a basic security measure.

And as soon as you got closer, he could see your figure. Leather pants, a burgundy blouse with a jacket. And he couldn't say why, but you exuded an elegance he had never seen before. It was surreal the way you floated in those heels.

Just like him, you were carrying some documents in your hands and cautiously reading them.

He blinked a few times as he saw the moonlight illuminate your face, allowing him to admire your beauty more clearly.

He stood still where he was, just staring at you from head to toe. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but your aura caught his attention in such a magnetic way.

When he least expected it, you bumped into him, both of you too inattentive to avoid the situation. Leon instinctively grabbed you by both arms to help you keep your balance.

You acted quickly, taking your gun out of its holster and pointing it at him. It was a defensive reaction. After all, for your own good, you always had to be on your guard, no matter what the situation.

"Woah, easy there," Leon muttered, looking at you a little startled.

You looked at him a little crookedly, lowering your gun and putting it back in its holster. Your eyes expressed the purest coldness, just as your expression was quite sullen.

"Are you?" It was your first question. After all, he must have been someone important to be walking around the White House late at night.

He hesitated a little, looking suspicious of you, "Leon... Leon Kennedy." He says it in a friendly way.

At once, the name made sense. He was one of the president's acquaintances. One of the most renowned agents, probably the best at the moment.

You nodded, your distrust of him ceasing for a moment. At least he was someone you could trust.

"And you? What's your name?" He asked in a low, calm voice, waiting for you to answer him directly.

"Jane Williams." You lie, a spy you couldn't give out personal information that easily. Even if he was someone you could trust, he was still someone you had only just met.

He didn't seem to believe you very much, as he narrowed his gaze at you. His expression turned into a wrinkle in a matter of seconds.

"Would you mind showing your ID?" The friendly tone was almost imperceptible. He sounded incredibly serious now.

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms. Putting your hand in one of your pockets, you pulled out the fake ID, which was made specifically for you.

He took the ID, held it up, and evaluated it. Every little detail flashed in his eyes, and he didn't seem to believe that ID at all.

"The shade of your hair is different here. Not only that, but your haircut is also very different. This document was issued last month. How have you changed so much?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a plausible explanation.

It was undeniable that he was a good observer. Surely, these details would not go unnoticed.

"You're using a fake ID, aren't you?" He didn't even give you time to answer, and he already asked you another question.

And this time, he could almost say that this was the case. The photo was so different. There was no way you were the same person. There simply had to have been too much going on in the meantime for you to have changed in such a way.

"I'm not someone you should worry about." You said sulkily, crossing your arms in annoyance.

And this seemed to irritate him deeply, as he sighed heavily.

"Well, it's alarming, to say the least, that someone should sneak into the White House at this hour. Even more so, by hiding their real identity." He said angrily, yet he sounded calm somehow.

He certainly had a point.

"Just don't bother me, and we'll be fine. I'm not a dangerous person, not in this situation." You even try to sound calm, but that clearly wasn't a good excuse for him.

"You pointed a gun at me a few seconds ago, and you say I shouldn't worry?" At this point, you could see his wrists clenching slightly.

You even shake your head in denial but realize that he's not going to give in. So, to avoid any confusion, you show him your real identity.

He looks at it again and again. He needs to be sure.

"Why are you using false documents?" He asks bluntly, his eyes piercing yours.

You pull the ID out of his hand and put it back in your pocket.

"In that case, you're already asking too much." You mutter cynically, moving down the corridor.

You had only come to the White House to speak to the president in person, and you expected him to welcome you properly.

A tug on your arm was enough to make you stop walking, not too strong to leave a mark, but firm enough to leave you standing where you were.

"Don't make me ask you again." He growled low, his tone cold and threatening. A clear contrast to his previous tones.

"Confidential." You just say, letting go of him and walking back down the corridor.

You heard a heavy sigh, soon followed by the sound of someone cocking their gun.

Looking back quickly, Leon had his gun aimed at you, waiting for you to answer him or even stop for a minute and pay attention to him.

"Confidential? Cut the crap." Again, the voice was low and cold. There was no denying that there was a chill in your stomach.

You rolled your eyes, not very excited about having to disarm him in such a way. But as a spy and mercenary, you couldn't take any chances.

It was your specialty to act without giving much time to react, and he certainly wasn't expecting you to be so precise.

With one swift kick, his gun ended up in the corner of the corridor, and it didn't take long for you to pin him to the wall. Pressing your forearm into his neck, your other hand pushing his body backward.

He seemed out of action for a few moments, wondering how you managed to be so assertive. He was disarmed in the blink of an eye, as easy as taking candy from a child.

The realization came, you were more dangerous than he had imagined. He could bet on it.

"What the hell are you doing?" He hissed at you, his face clearly bearing an angry expression.

You just kept staring at him, eyes cold and expressionless. You'd have no trouble killing him here if you had to.

"Don't make funny things, I'm not here for that." A low, calm voice that sent a chill down his spine.

After a few more seconds you let him go, walking towards his gun, which was lying in the corner.

"Confiscated." You say in a whisper, and while it was a soothing voice, there was a certain tone of threat. That was a fact.

Leon kept analyzing you for a while, for some stupid reason, he felt interested in knowing what the hell you were. After all, if you wanted to kill him, you would have done so a few moments ago.

But you still didn't, so what were you? Someone who was dangerous indeed, but because you had only immobilized him and nothing more?

Thoughts raced through his head, he didn't even try to protest once more. His eyes followed your every move, and they widened as soon as you moved towards the President's office.

The only noise now was your heels bumping against the floor, such light and incredibly sophisticated steps. And he thought once again, what were you?

To his surprise, as soon as you knocked on the door of the President's office, he opened it and simply let you in, just like that.

So was that a sign or what? Or should he worry and call in some kind of reinforcement? But what would he say? He didn't even know where you'd come from.

A few minutes of pondering later, he found himself pacing back and forth in the corridors. He had already tried to listen through the crack in the door, but nothing worked. Because he certainly wouldn't give up talking to you, not even if he wanted to.

Your cold, inexpressive manner was something of a chill, he'd met people like that before. But there was something more intriguing about you that even he couldn't explain.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally came out of the President's office, and to Leon's astonishment, there was the President himself standing next to you, talking quietly to you. Just like that.

You can't help it, and you gave Leon a cynical little smile as you walked through the White House with the president.

Again, what was that supposed to mean? Were you good or bad? What was the point of this discussion?

A million options ran through his head, he simply couldn't rule out any hypothesis. The only option was to talk to you since the president wouldn't say anything to him, not even if he asked politely.

You didn't seem to be someone he knew either, so even if he tried to look for information, he might not find the right answers.

After a good fifteen minutes, you appeared in the corridor, this time alone. It was the perfect opportunity for him to try and approach you. Although he already knew that he should expect some aggression from you.

Hell, he had to admit, you had an incomparable elegance. Every step felt like you were floating.

Hastening his steps, he managed to reach your side, once again looking you over from head to toe.

"Here, take this." You say, handing him back his gun.

Without much ceremony, he takes the gun and puts it back in its holster, and once again, confusion takes over his face.

Why were you showing a certain cordiality out of the blue?

"Thanks, I guess." He answers awkwardly, looking at you sideways, hoping you'd at least try to say something.

To his surprise, you remained silent. And so did he. He just kept following you at a certain distance. It's funny that he acted as if you weren't watching him, but you could see and hear him.

Once you arrived at the parking lot, you quickly went to your car and got in, carrying a folder with documents. It was soon placed in the trunk of the car.

"So, do you mind at least giving a few more details about yourself?" As soon as he sees you start the car, he hurries to ask you something.

"I told you, it's Confidential." Again the same answer, which seemed to irritate him a little.

"Come on, can't you even give me a clue? You know who I am, I can find something on you in the blink of an eye." It wasn't a threat. It was just him telling you what he would do if you didn't cooperate.

Not that you'd be intimidated by that kind of threat since you heard it all the time. Hence, the false identities and all the precautions to avoid being caught or identified. After all, there would be no point in a spy simply throwing her information into the air, right?

"Over time, you can try to find out. You know, just as I appeared out of nowhere, I'll suddenly disappear too." You could even hear a certain amusement in your voice, but in the end, it was your words that portrayed reality.

You'd disappear as soon as everything had settled down around here.

"I seem to have heard that conversation before," Leon murmured, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to you.

You just nodded, started the car, and drove off. Which left him speechless since he hadn't expected you to leave so suddenly. At least a word, no?

He sighs, watching your car disappear across the parking lot, then nothing but the sound of the engine. Then nothing, just him with his thoughts.

Why the hell did you have to show up? Now all his sleep had gone, all he was going to do was look for all the information he could, to at least have a guide as to what to do.

And he would search to the bottom, it wasn't possible that he wouldn't find anything about you, impossible.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

"So she's a spy and a mercenary?" Leon asked, reading some papers in his hand. There was a certain annoyance in his voice.

"Yes, that's what it looks like. I still don't understand what she wants with the president. There's some small piece of data that proves her alliance with the Russian government last month. What is she doing here now?" The female voice was Rosa's, one of the other agents who had decided to help Leon look for this information.

Leon nodded silently, reading and re-reading the papers. Trying to find any and all useful information, at least a little direction to guide him. He needed to know what a person like you was doing there, especially being as close to the president as you seemed to be.

Normally, the government didn't work with this kind of person, let alone with such a close connection. People like you are highly dangerous and treacherous, so what was your motivation? Why would you be here now?

And he could only think of the mess that was to come, of that he was sure.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Later that day, you visited the president again, this time to iron out the details of the mission. Possibly a good few more hours of conversation, after all, this was the most important part of the process. One little mistake and it was all over.

At that moment, you sat comfortably in one of the armchairs, while the President talked and talked, and frankly, it seemed like it would never end.

All the instructions, locations, objectives, everything was explicitly spoken about. And you didn't have much doubt about what to do, another one of those jobs.

Eliminate all the people who posed a threat, no matter who they were, and take whatever else was precious. A new sample of a virus that was circulating, and all the other important documents related to it.

The mission was highly secretive, until then you and the president were the only ones who knew. And by his orders, that's how it should be.

It was those kinds of veiled threats, several countries were after this virus, which appeared to be an incredibly powerful and resistant biological weapon. An incomparable risk to society.

But at this point, nobody cares, the important thing is to have a weapon to threaten other countries with, to demonstrate 'power'. Even if it means sacrificing thousands to do so.

But you weren't here to discuss moral values, you're simply a spy, in most cases driven purely by greed. So despite your regrets, you weren't going to go into too much detail about what would be done with this sample, at least not yet.

"I need you to infiltrate a Chinese organization, I want to know more about what they're up to. You have no problem posing as one of them, do you?" The president asked, but he knew perfectly well that this was your greatest specialty.

You could team up with the bad guys and the 'good guys', whatever it took to carry out this mission.

"You mentioned something about the south coast of China, is that group there?" You ask calmly, taking a sip of tea.

"Exactly, I need you to get some documents from them. As well as a sample of the new virus." He said calmly, willing to explain again if you needed him to.

You nodded, affirming that you understood what you needed to do.

Before you could leave the room, he added, "I want you to keep an eye on Agent Kennedy, he's going on this mission. Unlike you, he'll be on the front line. Dealing with threats on the way, be prepared to meet some infected."

You looked at him sideways, visibly sulkier than usual. Not that you were going to take care of Leon, since he could manage very well on his own, but you didn't like doing missions with other people. Sometimes it got in the way more than anything else.

"Why is that? Who else is involved in this mission?" You were quick to ask, the infected weren't exactly what put you on alert.

But other people could have been involved.

It was quite clear that he wanted Leon to have extra security, which in itself was cause for suspicion, we're talking about an incredibly competent agent. He should be able to handle himself calmly, shouldn't he?

"Precautionary measures are never too much, don't you agree? I know how competent you can be, so I just assumed that you two would make a good pair together." Certainly a compliment, but you didn't know whether to like it or be at least a little wary about it.

You gave a slight sigh, basically inaudible, "I just need to keep an eye on him, right? I don't want to babysit anyone."

The president laughed with a certain amusement, although he kept his expression serious, "Exactly, Leon can manage on his own, don't worry about that. I just think an extra pair of eyes wouldn't hurt."

With a small smile, he opens the door for you, signaling you to leave. After all, the conversation was over.

All you did was pick up a few more documents and left the President's office, with a little wave and that was it. You still needed to think of precise strategies for everything to go smoothly, so you decided to go to the restaurant, a place that was quieter and you could have more time to think properly.

With quick steps you reached the small restaurant, taking a table in the corner, as you didn't want anyone bothering you.

What you did first was take a look at the information the President had given you, some extra details about this mission. You hoped they would be minimally useful, it would be a shame to read all that for nothing.

You spent so much time immersed in those documents that you didn't even notice that it was late at night and that there weren't many people around. Which was a good thing, it meant a little more peace. As you glanced at one of the last pages of the documents, you couldn't ignore the feeling that someone was watching you.

For a brief moment, you raised your head and looked around, only seeing a few employees at first glance. Paying a little more attention, you saw the familiar silhouette, Leon, who was sitting at a table a little close to yours.

He had his arms crossed and a half-closed expression, and seemed to be squinting at you, which was to be expected, after all, you hadn't had a friendly meeting.

For a few moments you stared at each other, but you realized that it wouldn't do much, so you just turned your attention back to the papers in your hands. All you had to do was tolerate him, because whether you wanted to or not, you were going on a mission with him, although you wouldn't be acting as a team. At least not in an official way, since he could certainly manage on his own, and so could you.

Light footsteps echoed around the room, it didn't take long for you to see someone sitting down next to you, you didn't have to be a genius to know it was Leon, no matter how hard he fought it, there was a growing urge in his chest, he needed to know more about you. Certainly for his own sake, his own safety, but there was something inside that made him incredibly curious.

For yet another time, he found himself admiring your figure, the cologne you wore, which by the way, just by the smell of it, he could tell how expensive it was. The shiny necklace you wore around your neck, which adorned your collarbone.

Without a shadow of a doubt, you exuded such grace that anyone who looked at you like that wouldn't be able to tell how dangerous you were. Or maybe that was the intention, the noble, cold image that didn't show much emotion.

"Looking too much." Your voice brings him out of his trance, and he quickly focuses his gaze on your face.

Clearing his throat a little awkwardly, he says something like, "Sorry...What are you doing here?"

Repeated the question, but he still hadn't gotten an answer, so it was only fair to ask one more time.

"Business. And you?" For the first time, you try to bring up something, to divert attention a little.

He sighed slightly, already understanding what you wanted to do, "You know who I am. However, I wonder what a spy like you is doing here."

Sure enough, he already knew about you, and he would make that clear. Which was a surprise, since he had been very efficient at finding some of your tracks.

Your eyes protruded into his, and your lips curved slightly into a dangerous smile.

"Quick, I admit you did well on that one." Despite the quasi-expression you showed, your face became serious again.

With another sigh, he realized that it wouldn't be easy to get some information out of you.

Once again he sighs, arms crossed and the same closed expression. What could he do to get information about you?

For a brief moment, he moved his head a little, just enough to take a peek at what you were reading.

"South coast of China? How did you get access to that? As far as I know, only hand-picked people know about it, why do you know?" It was an inquisition, he even had his eyebrows raised.

"Agent, don't ask questions you know I won't answer. Let's be practical. You already know my identity, I suppose it's not difficult to put the pieces together and understand all this." A certain debauchery was visible in your voice, although the seriousness in your tone was much more apparent.

"You're incredibly complicated, aren't you?" He said in a sullen grunt.

Leaning back a little more in your chair, you stop to look at him better for a few seconds. With dark hair, blue eyes, and a black suit with a white dress shirt inside, he looked incredibly polished.

He was handsome, you couldn't say otherwise. Apart from his perfume that entered your nostrils, that kind of smell that you could tell how high the price of the cologne was just by smelling it.

After a few minutes of silence, he decided to continue, "What are you going to do on this mission? Go undercover? But what's the point?"

For a moment you laughed discreetly, his persistence was admirable.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" Your voice was calmer now, despite the colder expression.

He wasted no time nodding hastily. He needed to know more, with the excuse that you were a dangerous person, but in truth, maybe he was a little more interested in you than he should have been, just maybe.

"I need to do the dirty work, you know, just make sure no one gets in the way of the other members of the mission." That was partly true, but you were basically hiding everything else.

He raised his eyebrows once more, looking at the papers on the table, his hand slowly reaching for the folder.

"Oh sure, a mercenary is going to be in charge of security? Honestly, can't you think of a more convincing lie?"

You scoffed, seeing that he wanted to take a look at the folder, so you pulled him by the wrist. In a quick second, he was right next to you.

"Sweetie, I wouldn't move a muscle if I were you." An almost inaudible whisper, but he would definitely hear it. He was so close to you.

For a moment, his eyes widened a little, just as his lips threatened to quirk into a sideways smile.

"Why should I listen to you?" He teased back, his low voice sending vibrations throughout your body.

You chuckled, squeezing his fist a little harder.

"I wouldn't try my luck if I were you." You hissed.

Despite your velvety tone, he could already imagine that you wouldn't hesitate to do something to prevent Leon from finding out more about you.

Raising his head a little more, he brought his face closer to yours, to the point where you could both feel each other's breathing.

You closed your eyes, a veiled smile appearing on your lips.

'So that's how he plays it,' you think to yourself.

With your free hand, you hold him by the chin without breaking eye contact.

"Agent Kennedy, don't start something you can't finish." The tone of your voice was incredibly seductive, and it wasn't intentional.

It was enough to elicit a chuckle from him as he leaned his chin a little more on your hand.

"Should I consider this a flirtation? Or an early warning of your hostility?" As crazy as it sounded, there was an explicit tone of amusement in his voice.

He was dying to know what you meant, his curiosity only growing by the minute. It was so wrong, you were a morally wrong person, and he knew it, so why the hell did he want to know more about you? Why the hell did you have to be so beautiful?

"Take it any way you like, Agent Kennedy." You say with a furtive smile, followed by a wink.

Maybe it was just a distraction since you got up and left right away. But you couldn't deny that you were swayed by the man, not only was he handsome, he seemed interesting.

And you can bet that he felt the same way because he stared at you like a puppy on the street. As soon as you stood up, his eyes followed you until you left the restaurant, controlling his desire to simply chase after you.

He would look pathetic if he did that, but God, it was so tempting. But he wouldn't, not so easily. He knew the game you were playing, and he wouldn't just give in. At least, that's what he thought.

What he forced himself to believe.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

A few more details settled, and the mission began. It only took a few days. After all, it was a mission that had a certain urgency. With a good few hours of flying, you were on the south coast of China, not that you were very excited to begin with.

Leon had arrived first, at which point he was probably already doing his job. And you had to find the faction that contained the inside information, just as you had to find the sample of the new virus, which certainly wouldn't be easy.

You could say that with certainty, since you saw how big the place was. A small village, it appeared to be very humble, even if it was eerily silent. That in itself was a reason to cock an ear.

This made you wonder why a faction would choose a place like this to carry out their operations. Perhaps because they wanted a quieter place, without attracting anyone's attention. It's not like it was the smartest idea in the world, since it ended up being discovered anyway.

By sneaking around here and there you managed to get deeper into that village, nothing special, if you were being honest. The only alarming thing about the place was the deafening silence, incredible that you couldn't even hear the sounds of the surroundings, such as birds or other animals.

It was macabre, you couldn't deny that. The only sound was your footsteps, which were almost inaudible as you tried your best not to make a sound. Since attracting unwanted attention was not your focus.

A few steps later, you spotted Leon, who was a little further on. He was dealing with some infected, and had everything under control, no wonder he was considered an incredibly competent agent, seeing him like this, you could tell why.

Even though you were approaching discreetly, without giving him a chance to see you, you kept glancing at him from time to time, just to make sure he was getting the job done.

The sound of gunfire soon ceased, and you realized that Leon had already cleared his side, now just making sure everything was all right. And so you decided to make your way, moving towards an abandoned balcony, exactly the location you wanted to get to. Before entering, you examined everything outside, making sure there were no ambushes or anything that could be an imminent risk.

After a few minutes of inspection, you entered the old counter, steps awkward, gun in hand, and a thoughtful expression on your face. Any mistake could mean the end, and you knew it perfectly well. However, once again you were surprised: there was no one there, not a single person, not even a sign of an infected person passing by.

What did that mean?

Footsteps and more footsteps, and you still hadn't found anyone, only for your confirmation that it was an abandoned place. You didn't even dare to touch anything that was there, it was all very ordinary, and of course, that should be a good thing, but frankly, it wasn't.

However, literally out of nowhere, you felt a weight on your body, knocking you to the ground almost instantly. Your first reaction was to let out a slight grunt, but you certainly fought back as soon as you realized you were being pressed to the floor.

The dark surroundings made it difficult to see, but you managed to press your heels into the back of the person's knee, or whatever was pressing you to the floor.

The response you got was a grunt of pain, the pressure you put on was enough to loosen the grip you were being held in, from the voice, it was a person. You managed to push the person off you, rolling on the floor and looking for your gun.

But before you could reach for the gun, the same person pressed you against the wall, a strong hand on your stomach pushing you hard into the wall, while its forearm was glued to your throat. The person was so strong that you already felt dizzy from the slightest contact.

Even though it took some effort, you grabbed the knife you were carrying, which was attached in a holster on your thighs, and quickly pressed it against the person's neck.

And in the most idiotic way possible, you only just stopped to look at who it was, and the person did the same.

"Leon?"

"You?"

The two said in unison, looking at each other with inexplicable surprise, given the unusual situation. Even so, neither of you surrendered. On the contrary, both stares continued.

In the end, one was waiting for the other to surrender, but the question was, which one was going to take the initiative? It seemed that neither had this question in mind, nor were you even willing to give in.

"You're kind of sweet." You tease him, a mischievous smile starting to appear on your lips.

The answer was a heavy, annoyed sigh, his forearm pushing even harder against your throat.

"Don't tease me. What kind of trouble are you up to?" He asks in a hiss, blue eyes staring at you intensely.

You smiled wickedly, your eyes meeting his gaze. And to be honest, you didn't seem to be scared at all.

"My my, you're insistent, aren't you?" Your voice was a low and provocative one, just to play with his strings a bit more.

You could hear him cursing under his breath, he was piercing you with his gaze now.

"I'm warning you, if you do some kind of shit-" You stopped him mid-sentence.

Your fingers pressed against his lips, in a way to make him hush.

"So grumpy, relax a bit. You know, I could easily kill you if I wanted to." Although the low and charming voice, this was a threat, no doubt of that.

He seemed to be mesmerized by you, those plump lips, which are stained with that dammed red lipstick. It looked so damn sexy on you.

Seeing that, your lips curl into a smirk. You both know so well this attraction that was starting to grow between you two.

It was so wrong. Why in hell does Leon feel attracted towards you? Why did you make him feel in some type of way? He barely knows you.

His breath hitched as soon as he felt your thumb brushing his lower lip. The way you looked at him was so tempting. Sure, it was only some trick to make him distracted, and well, it's working perfectly fine. He wasn't even trying to push you back.

"You're obnoxious.." He whispered, loosening his grip on you. Yet, holding you in place firmly enough.

You scoffed, pressing your thumb even more on his lip. There was a small smile playing along your lips.

You could tell by the way that his hand slipped from your stomach to your waist, he wanted to take this further.

Some part of you wanted to keep teasing him, even if wasn't the best place for it.

With a quick motion, you moved your face closer to his, making his eyes hover exactly on your lips.

"Such a tease.." He hums, grip tightening around your waist.

Slowly, you take off his forearm from your throat, putting it down gently. You even feel bold enough to let a small kiss on his forearm.

Even if he tried not to, he couldn't hide the small smirk forming on the corner of his lips. He's enjoying this a little bit too much, and he doesn't want to stop if he's being honest.

"You know damn well that I can just kill you, don't you?" He even tried to sound imposing and all, but that's not what he wanted to do now. And you both know it.

You chuckled, dragging your fingers over his face,"I could kill you too. My knife is right here." In a quiet and simple whisper, you remind him that you still are in a position to warm him if you want to.

At this rate, none of you are taking each other threats seriously, and it seemed more like some kind of veiled flirting.

His free hand roamed to your neck again, the gentle touch that soon enough became a grasp. Not strong enough to leave marks or leave you breathless.

It was more like some kind of teasing, by the way that he moved his face even more closer to yours.

"A bold move, must say." You scoff, pressing your knife even more on his neck.

His face was so close now that his nose was touching yours, his mouth dangerously closer to you. Surely, that was not how this mission should be going, but you're not in the place to complain about anything, and he could say the same.

There you are, looking at him with the most cynical look, while he kept that dumb smirk on his lips.

What a situation.

His hold tightened around your neck, making you gasp slightly. The little sound that made his blue eyes sparkle, he didn't even try to hide it.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Agent." Your voice was barely a whisper at this point.

He smiled sideways, his thumb wandering over your lips in a subtle way of touching you.

"What are you doing here?" Surely the question he'd been wanting an answer to for ages.

You gave a low chuckle, pressing your knife further into his neck.

"I'm not telling, not even to you." As soon as you said that, he hung you a little tighter.

It was enough to make you choke. He took the opportunity to move even closer, his lips gently caressing yours.

You understood what he was getting at, and you wouldn't give in. You bet.

"I'm not in the mood for this. You should start talking." Despite his authoritative tone, you could sense that he was enjoying himself, even though he was trying to keep a serious expression.

You slid your tongue out of your mouth, tracing his lower lip in an incredibly provocative way.

He drew in his breath sharply, his eyes slowly closing. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

"Don't make things complicated, we can solve this so easily." You whisper sensually, you could have ended it already, but that wasn't your plan.

His eyes meet yours, in the most impure of looks. God, what a hell of a situation.

It would cause quite a delay to the mission, but at that point, neither of you cared. It was more like the world around you had stopped.

But like any good moment, you were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and voices. Which made you stop your teasing and look for a place to hide. Leon was quick to take you by the arm and lead you behind some debris, the two of you crouching down and listening intently to the conversation.

In the end, it was just some of the faction's plans that you needed to neutralize, which was very helpful. You just needed to neutralize everything, and with the little bit of information you had received, it would be possible. Although it was quite risky.

You could feel Leon's gaze on you from time to time, he was staring at you. As if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"The person they're referring to is you, isn't it?" Leon asks, his voice completely stoic. His blue eyes scan you wildly.

"Wanting to know too much. You go on your way, and I'll go on mine." You say sharply, returning to a more centered posture.

Leon knew he couldn't push you any further, at least not now. But he would certainly stick to you until he found out what you were up to.

As soon as the noises stopped, you took the opportunity to look for more clues.

But before you moved any further along the abandoned balcony, you approached Leon once more, kissing him on the cheek.

"Take care, I don't want to find you dead out there." You said it jokingly, but he could sense your seriousness.

He let out a puffy smile, watching as you walked away. He couldn't help himself, his eyes glazed over your curves.

What the fuck was he feeling? This shouldn't be happening.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

It took a few hours, but you managed to infiltrate, even though it cost you some valuable information. Closely classified.

This would probably give you a headache, and you can bet that the President wouldn't be too happy about the information being shared.

You already had a certain amount of trust from one of the faction members, even though they were people of dubious character. But you knew how to play this game, and you wouldn't lose.

At that moment you were walking through the underground part of the counter, which was incredibly large and complex. It was so big, you didn't expect to find a place like this.

A few times during these hours, you ran into Leon, and did your best to make him go unnoticed. You didn't know why you were acting like this, but you couldn't let him get in your way. You couldn't even let him get hurt and become an imminent problem.

It was undeniable that you also wanted to protect him, not that he needed you. But you knew that things wouldn't end well if any of the members of that faction knew that Leon was there too.

If they didn't already know.

In that silence, you could feel that you and yours were being followed or watched. And that wasn't just your feeling.

You could feel the tension building there, like a storm brewing in the distance. Now you were with a group of three men, four people in total counting you.

That walk was just an introduction to the underground site, since that was the exchange you had made. Classified information in exchange for a tour of the site. There was nothing unusual so far, although it was incredibly bizarre. No doubt about it.

And the place began to get darker and darker, with only a few dim lights from the lamps. Even if you were used to this kind of situation, you couldn't ignore the chill in your stomach that sneaked up on you.

What's more, your thoughts sometimes turned to Leon, whom you had already met a few times in this place. It would be so much more practical if the mission consisted of just you and him, two competent people who would get things done quickly. Because what you least wanted was to be trapped in that place, which was too disgusting for that.

The further you walked, the more an uncomfortable feeling grew in you; your body was completely tense by this point. You were in a state of alert, any movement was enough to alarm you.

At a certain distance, you could see Leon sneaking around the old place. That was more than enough to make your eyes widen and you try to warn him somehow to get out of there.

It didn't do much good, as he completely ignored you. He was just as focused on the mission as you were.

You tried to keep the attention off him, but the other people with you noticed the strange movement.

You already knew that the people in this faction were dangerous, and you certainly knew how to deal with them. However, you felt apprehensive in case Leon was taken by surprise. It certainly wouldn't end well.

For a few moments, you arranged a distraction for the group, causing them to dissipate for a few brief minutes. Enough for you to catch up with Leon and pull him into a quieter room.

"Are you going crazy? Get out of here. They're exactly looking for you." You hissed at him, pressing him against the wall.

To your surprise, his reaction was to pull you by the waist, so close that you could almost rest your forehead on his.

"Don't forget that I'm here for my reasons too. Just like you." He whispers, his fingers tracing your back.

You stare in disbelief at his action, it wasn't possible that he was thinking about this. Not in this situation.

"Agent Kennedy, this isn't the time for that." You whisper back, your gaze penetrating his.

He just smiled, looking around. He knew you wouldn't do anything against him, just as he wouldn't do anything against you.

Veiled words that you both knew deep down you wouldn't cross those boundaries.

"You're the one who left those guns and ammunition here for me, aren't you?" he asked quietly, even looking at you with a certain amount of apprehension.

You nodded, it was no big deal. Just a simple gesture to make sure everything went smoothly.

All for the mission. That's all.

He pulled you a little further into the corner, so that the two of you went unnoticed by anyone. But that closeness, the way the two of you were glued together.

Incredibly tempting, that was undeniable.

But you needed to focus, but it didn't help that he was being very protective, the way he simply shielded your body with his. Although you didn't have the friendliest encounters, this affection was only growing.

Who knows why? It shouldn't even be happening after all.

"You know they're looking for you, don't you?" You ask, staring at him once again.

"I'm well aware of that, just as I'm aware that you're with them. Yet you keep helping me." He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from you.

You could tell by the way his lips curved into a sideways smile that he wanted to hear it.

"Don't ask questions. Look, if you get out of here alive. I'll treat you to dinner as soon as we get back." You proposed it, you couldn't risk him getting in the way of the mission.

Of course, that would be it.

"I hope you're a person of your word because I'm going to charge you for this dinner." His smile was wide, he didn't even make a point of hiding it.

You nodded hastily, signaling him to move away. And fortunately, that's what he did.

But just as he turned to disappear down the corridor, you heard some voices behind you. Shouting almost frantically.

"Here, he's here." It was the same group you were with before, and now they had found their target. Leon.

You didn't have a very precise reaction, you just told Leon to keep moving away.

It was more than obvious that bargaining was not an option, they had an objective. And you couldn't let that happen.

Just as you needed Leon alive for mission-related reasons. And you would certainly break it to him.

You didn't hesitate to fire on the group, you didn't hesitate to have to kill them one by one, just to ensure that the mission was completed correctly.

A few good shots and blows later, all you had around you was blood, as well as the bodies of the poor unfortunates who thought they had a chance against you.

A few more deaths for your account. And you didn't feel a twinge of regret.

You look back, only to see Leon's astonished face. He almost couldn't believe the scene in front of him.

You were cold, and the way you didn't even tremble after everything you'd done was the clearest proof he could have.

It also gave him one more certainty: you wouldn't hurt him. Not after having let him live even though you could have ended him, and having helped him a few times.

And this was another of your bits of help. And he was in no position to complain. Not now.

Before you could exchange a single word, the sound of gunfire echoed around the room. It made you and Leon look at each other nervously.

If one of the people you had seriously wounded still had the strength to pull the trigger, the bullet would have hit you straight on. However, without you expecting it, Leon stepped in front of you, taking the bullet for you.

That was enough for him to fall to the ground, and for a brief moment you rushed forward, your first move being to kill the bastard who had fired. This time you made sure he was dead.

Then you bent down and looked at Leon's wound, he was bleeding profusely.

His pained expression made your heart squeeze, you had to help him somehow.

The option was to get him to a safer place, and you would do it. No matter what the cost.

You wouldn't leave him out in the open like that, you wouldn't let him down.

You couldn't do that.

For the mission.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

"Damn you, why the hell did you take a bullet for me?" You hissed, dabbing some antiseptic on his bruise.

For some divine reason, the bullet hadn't lodged. It had only damaged the wound. Which, despite everything, was a relief.

He grunted a little, still trying to keep his cool attitude, "It was nothing, just a bullet for a pretty lady."

Despite the joking tone, you hold him by the chin, looking at him with fervor.

"Regardless, I don't want you getting hurt for me, understand?"' Your voice was completely serious, but it was impossible to deny the worry you carried in your chest.

It wasn't fair of him to do that. It could have cost him his life. And you couldn't allow a person like him to risk himself for someone like you.

"Oh, come on. Just one bullet, it's not like I'm going to die -" You didn't let him finish. You just pushed your lips against his, in a way, to keep him quiet.

For a brief moment, he hesitated but kissed you back soon after. In a calmer, more affectionate way, one of his hands stroked your hair while your lips moved in pure synchronicity.

His hand, which had been in your hair, now went down, grasping the back of your neck, pushing you even closer to him.

You simply didn't hold back. You surrendered to his touches. Letting your tongue slide into his mouth, making the kiss more intense and wild, possibly that was his intention.

And of course, you should have pushed him away, at least not let it get so deep, but your body betrayed you, and you just let yourself go.

What seemed like an eternity ended after a good few minutes, when your lips parted painfully.

He had a faint look on his face despite the pain of his bruise. And you didn't do much to avoid the silly smile that was drawn on your lips, either.

And well, he was more than satisfied with that, since it was quite an effort to get you to smile, but it was something. At least you were more comfortable next to him. That's what he was thinking now.

You closed your eyelids, savoring his kiss, the taste of his lips on yours. Which only took a few seconds, as you forced yourself to focus on tending to his wound. Which was still oozing blood.

Despite the great desire to repeat the scene, you restrained yourself and went back to applying antiseptic to his wound

You started to get some bandages to wrap the wound properly.

He let out a few grunts of pain but quickly muffled them with his bare hands. Even with his attempts to hide the pain, you were completely aware that it was bothering him.

"When I've finished, you can stay here a while longer. At least until you feel better." You say softly, tying a bandage around his arm, gently to prevent it from hurting him more.

"No need." He says in a hoarse voice, trying his best to remain serious.

"That's not a question. It's an order, Kennedy." You say even more seriously, looking at him deeply.

Even after the kiss, the atmosphere was still somehow romantic because he knew you weren't being rude to him. You were just worrying. Even though you had a harsh way of showing it.

He sighed in defeat, knowing that you weren't going to let him leave so soon, but if he was sincere, from the kiss you exchanged, anything after that was a win-win situation.

"It won't take long, I can recover quickly." He said quietly, but from the pained look on his face, you could tell that it would be some time before he recovered.

"There's no need to rush, I'll take a look outside. I'll make sure everything's clean before we leave." That was enough to make him look at you a little puzzled.

"But we haven't found anything here yet. We can't go back."

"I'll take care of it, I'll escort you back. At least I'll get you out of here. You don't have to worry about the rest. I'll do what's necessary." You say calmly and coolly, completely confident in yourself.

Unlike Leon, who looks at you as if he's just heard the most absurd thing in the world. And then he deliberately denies it with his head.

"No way, I'm not letting you go alone. It's my mission, too." He protested, looking at you a little annoyed.

You sighed, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness, "You stay, I won't risk you going off like that. One ass to look after is enough."

Another annoyed grunt, yet he knew it was pointless fighting you because you'd go all the way. But it was Leon, so he'd pull out all the stops to try and help in some way.

"Stay here, I'll take a look outside." It was an order, and you'll not accept his no as an answer.

Now things have changed, and all that mattered to you was to take him away from this place safely. He had done more than enough in this mission. Despite you knowing so well that he'll not stay still as you said. But even so, you'll make sure that he was safe, at least.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

As you rushed back to the helicopter that was waiting for you, your mind was only thinking about how Leon was feeling. You couldn't help but feel guilty somehow regards what happened. At this rate, you already managed to finish all the missions, and as a result, you were all bruised and untidy. But that was what the last you're caring for right now.

The faction has ended properly. You exuded any kind of plans that they might be doing. Just like the new virus sample was safe in your hands, at least for now.

You can feel your cold demeanor fade once you lay your eyes on Leon, who is leaning back in one of the helicopter's seats, with closed eyes, and a tired expression. You can't blame him. He'd been through so much in this mission. It was more than fair that he was like this.But the way his face was still pale was worrying. But you couldn't show too much, not in public.

It wouldn't be good for his reputation, and that's what you wanted the least.

You only agreed to go on the same helicopter as him because the other one would take a few hours, and you couldn't stand the atmosphere there any longer. You'd already faced enough problems there.

Leon seemed so fated that he didn't even bother to open his eyes, he just continued resting there. His free hand held his injured arm, while his breathing was a little faint. But it was there.

He'd probably need a few stitches when he got back, and that would certainly leave a scar.

You sat a little away from him, but watched him from time to time. In a more discreet way, just to make sure he was still okay. Since it would probably be a few hours before you got back to the White House.

So all that remained was to wait patiently and keep an eye on Leon's condition.

After all, you felt more than obliged to do this, he had been shot for you, after all.

It took a while, quite a while if you were being honest. But the two of you finally reached the white house. It was very late, probably late at night.

You still stayed awake a lot, you had to report on what had happened. And it would take a long time, even hours to tell the details.

You and Leon didn't talk much, you just greeted each other briefly before entering the President's office. Which, frankly, was a total bore, just a lot of boring work talk. Which you couldn't stand hearing about any more.

Time seemed to pass so slowly, you could have sworn that hours had passed, and that had probably already happened.

After settling everything once again, you received your paycheck along with your bonus, and it was time to get out of there. Your mission was over, and that was certainly what you were going to do.

At least, that was your plan.

Which were interrupted as soon as Leon pulled you into an empty corridor, pushed you against the wall and kissed you out of the blue.

It was a desperate, thirsty kiss, as if he needed it to live. And you kissed him back with the same intensity.

"You're going to keep your word, aren't you? I'm not giving up on this dinner." He whispers, resting his forehead on yours. Looking at you tensely.

Despite being tired and sore, and clearly looking like he hadn't slept in the last few days, he didn't stop being handsome for a single second.

"I certainly have to make my word count, don't I?" You say softly, giving him a light kiss.

You'd exchanged the necessary information, everything had already been arranged. All you had to do was wait for the day to arrive.

You just had to wait a little longer, just a little longer.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

The waited night finally came. Now was the day for that dinner. One that you're quite eager for. It was almost night now, and even if still sometime before that dinner, you wanted to get ready calmly, so you just started early.

Or maybe because you're so anxious about that? It's an option, too.

Lucky for you the time passed quickly, a couple of hours, and was already time to go. And even so, you looked yourself in the mirror once again, paying attention to every detail. Honestly, even you can't say why you're being this perfectionist on this night.

But well, all of your thoughts vanished once you heard someone knocking on your door. You can bet that was him, who seemed to be the kind of man that would politely go to your home and take you to this dinner. And no, you're not complaining about that.

As soon as you open the door, you immediately see Leon, with a sly smile on his face. His eyes look attentively at your body, your dress, everything about you seems to be dumbfounded.

"Looking pretty." He said in a charming voice, pulling you by your waist and giving a small kiss on your cheek.

You can't help but chuckle at his bold action. He was just as eager as you. This was just undeniable.

"You look nice, too." You said with a small wink, taking a better view of him.

Leather jacket, along with also leather pants. A blue shirt, his hair perfectly in place, and you couldn't let pass that delicious cologne that fills your nostrils.

He chuckled, leaning in and giving your cheek another kiss.

Certainly, this should be another one of your dates, but it felt so special for some strange reason. Something about Leon seemed to be so endearing.

With another smile exchange, he quickly guides you to his motorbike, ready to take you to the nice restaurant that he reserved. He was more than willing to pamper you all night long. You can tell by the way that he chose the most expensive restaurant, only to make sure to treat you properly.

And everything went so well, you both talked all the dinner. As if you two have known each other for so long, all of this with good wine and good food. Looking at this situation now, it doesn't even look like you both are just like a cat and mouse. Far from it.

But you managed one thing, the euphoric looks in Leon's eyes, once you accepted to go to his apartment and spend the night with him.

Oh my, you drove him crazy only by agreeing with such a thing.

He would be lying if he said that his mind wasn't going wild right now. Yet, he's trying his best not to lose his cool because he wants you so much.

A couple of talks after, you both decided that it was time to go back to his apartment, to let the night go. The night was pleasant so far, but being quite honest, the part you two went back to his apartment and spent the rest of the evening together was so exciting.

After some twenty minutes of driving, you finally arrived at his apartment. Luxurious and expensive, you couldn't wait any less from him.

Once you stepped inside his apartment, he didn't waste time and pushed you against the closed door, kissing you with fervor, as if his life depended on it.

His hands roamed in your body, squeezing and caressing every inch of it. He can't control himself anymore. He needs this, and he'll have it.

Your tongue gets entangled with his, dancing non-stop. You both wanted this so badly, this desire that had been building up since you met him, and you can be sure as hell that he has this feeling, too.

"God damn you." He managed to mumble during the kiss. He hated the way that he lost his cool so easily with you.

The way that you make his heart beat so fast every fucking time. He shouldn't, you shouldn't even be there, in his apartment.

But who said that he cares? Sure, you're someone who he should despise, but then again, who said that he care?

"You can be as mad as you want. You can't deny what you feel for me." You teased in a cocky tone, biting his lower lip in response.

This was more than enough to drag out a groan from him, his hands cupping your ass tightly.

"You're a damn tease, and I fucking can't control myself." He grumbled, smashing his lips against yours another time.

His hands find the waistband of your panties, pushing it down with force, making your underwear fall into your feet.

Not that you cared at this point, quite the opposite.

After another heated kiss, he takes his mouth away from yours, hovering over your neck. Kissing and nipping, his big and warm hands cupping and squeezing your ass. Your hands find a way in his hair, caressing it while his mouth travels in your neck.

"I never expected you to be this eager, Leon." You coo, your mischievous tone that makes his mind go wild.

In response, he bit your neck, strong enough to leave a small mark on it. You moan softly at his act, and this made him even more aroused. Knowing damn well what he's doing to you.

"Yeah? Because this lady here," He pointed at you dramatically, "is getting me all head over heels."

You let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by his bluntness. In fact, you like this pretty much.

With one hand, he dragged his fingers over your exposed thigh, feeling the soft skin. The skin that he craved so much to touch, and now was everything under the tip of his fingers.

But also, he can't help it, the way your breath hitches with each touch, your hands gripping his hair and pulling him closer. He was more than sure that you wanted this to go further. You wanted to be his for this night.

"You're so damn hot, I swear to God. I've never felt this way in a long time." He whispered in your neck, rubbing his mouth on it. Leaving a trail of wet kisses.

"Oh no, don't tell me that you'd fallen for me?" You asked in a teasing way, only to mess with him.

But his silence, his silence followed by the hard gulp. This was enough to leave you speechless for a couple of seconds. Even so, he managed to keep kissing and nibbling your neck, in a way to make this matter aside.

You also pulled his jacket aside, leaving him only with his shirt with sleeves, his muscles flexing with each movement. You can feel your mouth watering at the sight.

Your hands slide into his shirt, exploring underneath. Feeling each one of the muscles on his abdomen, your own arousal, grows more and more. You can tell by the way you are soaking wet.

"I'm not the only one being eager here, do I?" He purrs, his skilled fingers hovering on the wet surface of your cunt. Teasing you just enough to draw a sweet moan from you.

With one finger he strokes your clit, sliding his index on your needy hole. And he felt that you were so wet and warm for him, so inviting.

His free hand grabbed your chin, making you look directly at him. Your face had a smirk and a red shade, you were enjoying this a lot.

"Those damn lips of yours." He growled, brushing his thumb on your lower lip, pushing down to make you open your mouth for him.

Quickly enough, he slides another finger inside you, thrusting into you at a fast pace. Making you gasp and whine for him.

He didn't wait for a second and pressed his lips on yours, kissing you in such a way as to drive you insane only by that.

"I'll kiss you until your lips are all puffy, you understand? I'll do it." He stated, letting his tongue roam free in your mouth. He can't wait any longer.

His fingers kept moving in and out, curling and hitting your sweet spots again and again. His mouth didn't leave yours for a moment, he'll do it. Kiss you until that plump lips of yours are all puffy.

He smirked once he looked down, seeing his hand all messed with your juices, pussy dripping and clenching around him, he knew that you were close. And he'll push you to the edge, you can be sure.

"You'll come for me, won't you? I'll make you squirt all over." In a small and quiet purr, he said, adding a third finger. His skilled movements make you see stars, and you're just loving it.

"I'm close." You mewl, clasping his shoulders tightly, your lips parted, and heavy breathing coming out.

"What a cute little thing." Another smirk appears on his face because he wants to see you breaking apart in front of him so badly. He was just craving for it.

He pulled you by your waist, his fingers working like magic in your needy cunt, making you cry and moan his name. His lips started to leave another trail of kisses, going down to your neck, soon enough arriving on your collarbone.

And with that, your body trembled, your tight and warm walls collapsing in his fingers, making a big mess of it. At this rate, you're breathless, your hair disheveled, and your eyes closed. You are just seeing stars right now, a sensation so good that you don't even remember the last time that you felt this way.

"You're so fucking hot." Leon growled in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine.

He was claiming you, worshiping you, doing everything to show you that he wanted you so much. Right now, he just wants to make you his, and nothing else.

The world outside doesn't matter. All he cares about now is this moment, you and him.

With a quick motion, he lifts you, holding you by your ass. He was taking you to his bed, to his room. And he'll make you his there, just like it should.

Unconsciously, your legs wrapped around him, kissing him over and over, his lips fit so perfectly with yours. As if this was meant to be. His grip on your ass gets tight as he squeezes it with force, pushing you down just a little. Enough to make you feel his bulge, which was more than evident at this point.

"This hard for me, cutie?" You said in a provocative voice, kissing and nibbling his jaw.

More than enough to take a groan from him, as he smacked your ass with a loud noise.

You let out a little noise, along with a small chuckle, as you kept dragging your mouth on his face.

Once in his room, he sat down with you on his lap, making you sit exactly on his growing erection. He wanted you to feel it. He needs you to feel it.

"I guess that someone needs a little help, isn't?" You hum, giving him the most mischievous smile that you could give.

"You little.." He grunts, stopping when he feels your hands roaming on his chest as you kiss the sides of his face.

He was so turned on that it hurt somehow. He doesn't even know how he got in such a state, but he did.

Your hands quickly find his belt, and you are fast to take it off, slipping your hands on the big volume in his boxers. Caressing through the thin fabric, getting an audible groan from him.

In a way to push his buttons even further, you started to give him only pecks on his lips, refusing to give him full kisses. At first, he didn't mind, but he got incredibly impatient when he noticed that you were just teasing him.

And good job, because was working. As you slide your hand on his underwear, you can feel the wet spot, the man was already leaking pre-cum, you can feel how stick his crotch was, and once you touched it, he seemed to fall apart on your fingers. His cock twitched under your fingertips, begging for any kind of attention, for anything that you could give.

"Do you mind giving me a full kiss or -" Leon grumbled but got interrupted by you when you crashed your lips on his. Making out with him shameless.

He bucks his hips, only enough to drag his pants and underwear down, making his throbbing cock jumps out of its cage. Almost in a relieving way.

Both of you were so eager that any minute longer could be an agony. You needed this to feel him fully, to feel that he's yours. Even if it is just for one night.

Didn't take long for to you feel his red tip rubbing on your entrance, wet folds inviting this moment so badly.

Man was already a mess, panting and moaning softly under you, he didn't even bother to hide it. You made him feel so lustful that he lost the capacity to think straight.

His sticky precum flowed down in his thighs, and he made sure to mess you with his liquids too, after all, was all your fault.

Soon, you put his length in, letting his thick cock stretch you out. Your velvety and tight walls sucking him inside, in a vicious way.

"So fucking tight." He growled, spreading your ass cheeks and moving his hips.

He doesn't even want to wait. He just wants to pound you over and over again.

You can't help but feel even more aroused by this, seeing Leon under you, his hair disheveled, his breath was a mess, and he can't even control the noises that he makes.

Such a beautiful sight, you can't deny that.

"You're filling me so well." You hum, your voice soft as silk.

"A pretty girl like you deserves." He said back, biting your lower lip and sharply bucking his hips. Taking a loud whine from you.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you find your pace with him. Moving in the most pure and unholy sync. The room was only filled with the sounds of your bodies crashing, the moans that seemed to be louder at each thrust.

The bottled sexual tension is being relieved in the most alluring way, one that neither of you will forget.

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated and wild kiss, tongues dancing and intertwining. His other free hand grabs your waist, squeezing and grasping your soft skin.

Suddenly, you stopped moving, only kissing him back and caressing his chest. You can already feel the devilish smile curling on your lips.

"What's that?" Leon grunts, leaning his forehead on yours, looking at you with those piercing blue eyes.

You can feel him starting to rut under you, but you don't bulge. Instead, you just kept staring at him with that cocky smile of yours.

"I don't want to move. What's the matter?" You whispered, tracing the line of his cheekbones.

His eyes narrowed, and you could swear that you heard a small whimper come out from his lips.

"Don't make me beg.." He groaned, his hands gripping your waist tightly, almost forcing you to move.

Your lips brushed on his, as you slowly moved your hips, it was torturous. He knew that you were just teasing, but it turned him on even more. Every single act of yours is capable of turning him on in such a way.

How this is even possible? He thought for himself.

Your hands hovered on the scar in his biceps, the bullet that he took for you. As you gently caressed the scar, you could see the tender look on his face, and to make him look even more aroused, you kissed it. Giving a few pecks on his scar to show him how grateful you were.

"Thank you, sweetie." You whispered in his ear, dragging your fingers over the scar again, to show that you mean it. And such a simple act, turned him on even further.

He couldn't control himself. It was too much. He needs to fuck you so badly, he can't wait for that. It's like his body is begging for it, he can't think properly, and he just has this urge to fuck you.

He was fast, rolling you over, so you were lying on his bed, your legs being spread widely, and he was pushing your knees into the bed.

He needs this view. He is craving for it.

And honestly? For the dumb look on your face was all worth it.

"What do you think you're doing?" You whispered, your nails digging in his forearms.

He scoffed, pushing his length all over you again, taking out a loud moan from your pretty lips. Pussy so wet and tight, nestling him in so easily.

"It's my turn to fuck you, yeah?" He groaned, hips moving at an unholy pace. His heavy balls slapping against you.

He was so deep, hitting that spongy spot over and over. Making you see stars again, making your body arch in such a way.

He can't help, seeing your little face all twisted while he pumps you fool, your chest rising and falling, the way that you moan his name as if was a new religion.

"You're going to be the death of me." He cooed, leaning his weight over you.

Only to hear you closely, he needs to see the whimpering mess that you're in right now.

Now, you can barely think straight, just humming some nonsense things. Because you can't focus, all you can do right now is whine and whimper, grasp his forearms tightly. Letting the mark of your nails on it.

He was so close, just like you. He can feel your delicate walls tightening around him, the way your body quirver and squirm under him.

He knows that so well.

"C'mon, doll. Come for me, will you? Make a mess on my cock." He stops, only to moan and bit your ear, "Fuck, you're so sweet for me. Taking me so well, look at this." He whispered, looking down.

You let out a soft whine, feeling the way that his cock disappeared on your cunt, the way that it slides so easily. In and out, in the most perfect ritm.

"I'm close, fuck I'm close." You whimper, eyes closing and rolling to the back of your head.

Was too much, his fat cock hitting all of your spots. His violent thrusts make you go into heaven and hell at the same time. Too much.

And he doesn't help you, his finger pressing against your clit aggressively, taking out a loud gasp from you. The cherry on top was when he decided to choke you, not to hurt you, but only to hold you and see you dumb face while he does so. The small tears that formed in the corner of your eyes, so pretty. Such a pretty girl for him. This was enough to send you over the edge.

There you were, squirting all over him. Your juices wetting his crouch and thighs.

He let out a satisfied groan, claiming your lips in a sloppy kiss. Whispering sweet nothings, only to disguise the way that he was fucking you mercilessly. And he wouldn't stop until he came all over you, he needs to fill you up with his cum.

"A pretty girl like you deserves it, no? My cum all over that sweet pussy, I'm sure you want that, don't you?" He teased, looking at your pretty face. You're so damn hot right now, so good for him.

"Just.. fuck.. do it.." You breathe out, feeling so sensitive that your pussy tightened around him again. Your walls clenching around his cock.

This magic worked so well, he can feel the first spurts of cum coming out, painting your insides. He let out a moan, his eyes closed and his head leaning back. You can tell by the look on his face that he was in complete bliss.

Was a big load. You can feel by the way that a part of it was falling all over you, making a mess. Not that none of you cared anyway. That was his way to show you how much he loved this.

How you make him go wild. Is the only proper way to show you, and he proudly did.

Once again, he takes your lips, kissing you with passion, letting his tongue slide into your mouth another time. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in.

He pulled you in his embrace, holding you like this for a while. Waiting for both of you to calm down for the high.

After a couple of minutes, he decided to speak,"Will you stay for tonight?" His voice was a tiny whisper, and he was almost begging you to stay.

You let out a soft chuckle, caressing his hair,"If that's what you want. I can stay." You hum, kissing his cheeks in a tender way.

That was more than enough to take a smile from him, as he gently lay you down properly in the bed. Pulling some covers on both of you, and soon enough cuddling with you.

You'll not deny this for him, knowing so well that you'll leave in the middle of the night. Even if you would love to wake up in his side, you knew too well that this couldn't happen. This is supposed to be just a fling, nothing more.

Even if there's a glimmer of hope on your heart that still wants more. But your work can't let you do that, almost impossible, to say at least.

But the way that he cuddled with you, holding you tightly. Only to make sure that you'll stay, just until he falls asleep. To have your presence to make his sleep a bit better.

Your heart melted once he showered you with kisses, trailing all over your face. Whispering little praises while doing so.

It was a simple act, but so lovely.

"You're adorable, Leon." You hum softly, caressing his cheeks.

The way he looked at you, fuck, more than enough to make you smile like a child. He wanted to hold you, to keep you in his arms that night. If only for one night.

He felt he needed it, even though he didn't know why. He had this affection for you that he couldn't even explain.

And you were more than happy to be in that situation, even if only for one night. That you wouldn't soon forget.

At that moment, he didn't care who you were or what you did. For him, you were just you. The beautiful woman who was there, in his arms.

Oh heavens, why was this feeling taking over his chest? How could it happen so quickly?

He didn't want to spend too much time thinking about it. He just wanted to enjoy the time he still had with you.

"Despite everything, you're great company." He murmurs softly, full of affection.

You smile softly, snuggling into his chest. While his fingers run through your hair.

You let yourself go, eyelids slowly closing, as you enjoy the warmth that emanates from his body. Just for one night.

Just this once.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

After a comfortable night of sleep, the sun's gentle rays began to filter in through the window. Slowly illuminating Leon's room, it was enough to make him lazily open his eyes.

He hugs one of the pillows, swearing it was you. Only to have the disappointment of looking at the pillow and seeing that you had already gone.

He lets out a sigh, rubbing his eyes to get a better look around. His eyes stop on a letter on the bedside table. It was yours, and it was with your lingerie.

His hand reaches for the letter, reading it carefully. And once he's finished reading, he feels a slight pang in his heart.

He realizes that he probably won't see you any time soon, quite possibly you'll be out and about and he won't see you ever again.

Why the hell did that bother him?

Another sigh, he shakes his head in denial. Reaching for your panties and sniffing them shamelessly.

Letting your scent fill his nostrils, as if it were the oxygen he needed.

For a moment, he lets himself sink into the bed, remembering everything about you. All the brief moments and the wonderful night you gave him.

The bed still smelled like you, the blankets impregnated with the scent of your cologne.

And you impregnated his soul.

"Fuck..." He murmurs, closing his eyes and imagining that it was you there. Not just a pillow.

But you wouldn't come back, given the nature of your work.

You wouldn't come back, he thinks again. He felt melancholy, that was undeniable.

He could make this pain better, he just needed one more day with you.

Just one more day.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon smut #leon scott kennedy #leon infinite darkness #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x you

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Text

Cycles

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/Content Warnings: NSFW, Smut, PIV Sex, Heat/Rut Cycles, Territorial, bit of Feral!Miguel, improper use of webs, pheromones, hormones, predator/prey dynamic if you squint, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Scratching, Bondage(?), Breeding Kink (c'mon we all know Miguel has one), established relationship, boyfriend/girlfriend, rough sex, oral sex, blowjob

MINORS DNI: I am not responsible for the content that you are about to read/consume, if you are upset by the themes in this fic, do not read it and scroll on by!

A/N: For context, you are a Spider-Woman who is one of (maybe the only) the few Spiders who have similar powers to Miguel. This is my first Miguel x Reader fic I've ever written, and my first fic ever posted here on Tumblr! (Header does not indicate reader's race)

Earth 7164. New York. Middle of summer.

The scent hit him the moment he tore through the portal. A heavy, sweet, earthy scent that flooded his whole body with a rush of adrenaline. Even the fat droplets of summer rain that fell from the dingy skyline did little to diminish that delicious, mouth watering scent.

Your scent.

His body was trembling as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the tension that roped its way through his heavy muscles. His talons flexed as he gritted his teeth, each drag of his lungs pulling your scent into his body.

Miguel O'Hara was a man who would claim he had a good sense of control over his urges. He would also say he was a good boyfriend, attentive. A bit protective (some would say possessive).

But, he had been neglecting you as of late, his duties in the Spider Society and ensuring the safety of the universe had kept him away from you these past few weeks, and he almost lost track until he felt that familiar boiling of his blood, an itch that he knew could only be scratched by you.

And he knew that you would be experiencing a similar situation to him, almost parallel. In fact, he surmised you were probably the only Spider who had similar powers. The only difference was that whereas Miguel's powers were (sort of) intentional, and other Spiders were given to them after being bitten by radioactive spiders... You were born like this. They didn't know why. Hell, you didn't know why.

You had the venom (you could consciously control how much you pumped out in every bite), you had your own talons (although yours were a part of your nails, not in the pads of his fingers and toes), the wall crawling abilities, natural web-shooting...

And your cycle. At first having you around was torture on his senses when it would roll around. It would start with your scent changing; the dampness he picked up from between your legs making the blood rush straight to his dick. More often than he'd like he'd have to excuse himself to his private lab to jerk himself off until he felt some of his clarity return.

But it was always just a temporary relief. It only got worse when your breeding cycle and his rut cycle synced up, resulting in the two of you needing to almost be sedated and kept away from each other. (How Lyla kept that under wraps, Miguel never knew.)

And once your dynamic shifted and you started seeing each other, and eventually getting intimate... well. He was positive that Jess or Peter suspected what was up... Especially when he would disappear to your universe for a week or so, only to come back in a slightly better mood, small dark patches peeking out from beneath the collar of his suit, or you would be walking funny or unable to sit comfortably.

Right now, though, those thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind. The only thing he could think of was you. He could smell you, taste you in the air. This was your territory, and he... Could be considered an intruder, depending on your mood.

A male spider waltzing into a pissed off and horny female spider's web during breeding season.

Shaking his head, he took another deep drag of the air around him, the smell of the city mixing with your earthy, almost fruity tones. Your scent was faded slightly, but he could still use it to track you beneath the smog, garbage, and vehicle exhaust.

It's not like he didn't know where your apartment was... But he knew during this period of time you'd be restless, irritable, angry.

And mind-numbingly horny.

Miguel launched himself up, slinging his wrist out and using his glowing webs to propel himself in between the buildings and skyscrapers; leaping, flipping, arching through the sky in a red-and-blue blur.

He knew he was closing in on you. Your scent was all but strangling him, choking the air and what little sanity he was clinging to right out of him.

He should have known you were waiting.

Miguel was rammed into with the speed of a runaway train, the oxygen he so desperately needed ripped from his lungs as he tumbled with a roll onto the rooftop below, landing on all fours as his talons dug into the concrete and tar, leaving deep grooves as he slowed himself.

He lifted his gaze to see you land in front of him, chest heaving, body trembling.

"I have been waiting for you, for almost two weeks." You wheezed out.

"Hell of a way to greet me, querida." Miguel grunted, pulling himself to his feet.

Beneath your mask, he knew your eyes immediately dragged down to the hard bulge pressing against his suit, the hard outline of it sending a fresh throb of arousal straight to your core.

"The kick was a bit much." He said, trying to maintain a professional composure.

But his control was quickly slipping.

"Shut the fuck up."

The short rebuke didn't surprise him.

"Should have been here days ago." Miguel said, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. "I know that. But--"

You cut him off by lunging at him, hurling your full weight onto him and pinning him down beneath you.

The heat between your legs felt like it melted through his suit, burning the skin beneath and causing a fever to spread.

You raised your fist to bring it down on his face but his reflexes allow him to catch it, gripping you like a steel vice. His other hand gripped your thigh as he planted his feet on the rooftop, rolling to pin you beneath him, his massive frame caging you in.

He squeezed your hips between his thighs, muscles tensing and twitching, breathing heavy. Your free hand reached out and clawed at him, tearing at his suit, leaving a rainbow of glitched out fabric behind, small droplets of blood rushing forth to drip down his tanned skin.

He gritted his teeth at the sensation, the sweet burn sending another wave of heat through his body that made his cock twitch.

You were past talking, past negotiating and being civil. You knew what you wanted, and you wanted it now.

You breathed heavily, gritting your teeth as Miguel gripped your thigh and forced your knee by your head, squeezing the plushest part as his face dragged down to the dark patch soaking through the fabric of your suit.

Using this new position, you kicked at him square in his chest and threw him off of you.

Before he could right himself, you rolled to your feet and jumped off the roof, shooting a web to sling you away from him.

Sure, you were horny and wanted to ride his cock til he couldn't see straight for a month. But he had been gone for weeks and you had been struggling with your own self-care, your measley silicone toys and vibrators barely able to compare with that womb-punching length that Miguel crammed into you, or his skillful and knowledgeable hands rubbing you until your eyes rolled back. But right now, you were pissed.

He wanted your pussy? He was going to have to work for it.

And if that meant playing your cat and mouse game for an hour, building the anticipation and making his cock leak; aching, desperate for a taste of you? So be it.

You played this game for a while, teasing him, getting within arms reach before yanking yourself away at the last possible second, thwarting his attempts to catch you.

Sometimes you liked to play with your food.

But all games come to an end. And this one had an abrupt ending when Miguel headed you off, tackling you to the roof of some abandoned warehouse, pinning you down on your belly, hands above your head.

"Bout fucking time I caught you. Tu pequeño bromista.." (You little tease.) He snarled, leaning down to your ear as his mask dissipated from his head, letting his wavy chocolate hair fall free, damp strands plastering themselves to his forehead.

His eyes were wild, red and glowing; pupils blown wide.

"Fuck you." You hiss, squirming under him.

"Oh, sucederá en, no te preocupes." (Oh, don't worry, it will happen.)

Miguel raised his free hand and brought it down hard on your ass, making you bite your lip to contain the mewl that tried to claw its way out of your throat.

"Look at you, now, hermosa." He sneered, his chest huffing in a small, humorless laugh. "I can fucking smell you from a mile off."

He reached down and cupped your mound, his fingers squishing slightly in the damp fabric of your suit; but once again you deny him a moan, instead biting into your lip, fangs threatening to puncture your lip.

You squirm an arm free and go to elbow him in the face, get him off of you. (Or under you.)

But he predicted that. That's what always got you going when you were in the middle of your cycle. You liked it rough.

His large hand completely encircled your elbow and forced your arm back down. Quickly, he used his glowing, laser-webs to secure your wrists together before he gripped the fabric of your suit with his talons, shredding it as he yanked you over so you were on your back.

Miguel smiled and yanked your mask off of your head, tossing it to the side before gripping your chin with his fingers, putting enough pressure to keep your eyes on his.

"Now... What should I do with you?" He said contemplatively, tapping your cheek with his index finger, making a show of thinking, his eyes dragging over the flushed features on your face, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips.

"Ah. That's it." He grinned, his slightly askew teeth gleaming in the dark. He grips you by the front of your torn suit and pulls you to your knees as he stands.

He grips the crotch of his suit, and rips at it with his talons, the torn edges doing that kaleidoscopic glitch of colors as his cock springs free from its confines; large, twitching, angry red tip leaking in excitement.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in your little groan, your heart soaking through and dripping out through your suit.

"Hmh." He grunted, annoyed. "I'll loosen your fucking mouth. I've been keeping myself under control this whole time. But now? I'm not going to be gentle."

He gripped your hair, just shy of painful as he dragged your head to his crotch, the tip of his cock smearing his precum across your cheek.

"Chúpalo." (Suck it.)

You finally give in, your hands bound in your lap as you drag your tongue along a prominent vein in the velvety skin of his shaft, earning a deep, rumbling groan from him that you swore sent vibrations straight to your cunt, making you flutter around nothing.

You pull your head back and swirl your tongue around the tip, pulling and tugging as you lap at his slit, eagerly tasting every drop of pre he was giving you before diving in and taking the rest of his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

He massaged your scalp, his talons tickling the skin under your hair as he encouraged you to continue.

But you knew his calm demeanor wasn't going to last. It wasn't long before he grabbed at your hair with both hands, forcing you to choke down on his length, just shy of blocking off your airway as he fucked your face, the tension and stress from your cat and mouse game coming out as his tip kept shoving at your throat, your nose brushing the dark curly hairs at the base, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust; saliva pooling around his length as you keep your fangs pulled back as you let him use your throat like a fleshlight.

You close your jaw microscopically, fangs grazing the flesh.

"Míralo!" (Watch it!) He reprimanded, pulling your hair roughly to pull you back, his cock springing out of your lips with a wet pop, saliva connecting the tip with the soft pink muscle in your mouth like a weak bridge.

"Be a good girl." He snarled, pulling you back down on his length, barely letting you catch your breath before forcing you all the way down, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you choked and gagged.

You knew exactly how to lick, suck, and tug at his cock to get the best reactions, the most delicious sounds from him.

You snuck a glance up at him, watching as he tipped his head back with a throaty groan as you greedily swallowed him down.

You moaned around him; his cock throbbed.

You felt him twitch, felt his hips sputter as he gritted his teeth.

"Fuckin' close." He snarled, looking down at you as your eyes connected with his feral ones.

You rocked your clothed cunt on your heel, trying desperately to get some friction to your aching clit. Miguel caught this motion, and held you down on his cock, choking you from not letting you ease off.

"You're not allowed to touch yourself." He said through gritted teeth, pulling your head back with a harsh tug, letting you get a gulp of air before voraciously fucking your mouth again. You obeyed his command, sitting in your slick that was dripping down and out of you, your folds puffy and neglected.

"Fuck..." He breathed heavily, he could feel that burn, that coil about to snap, his blood boiling and rushing straight to the tip of his dick as he felt his balls draw tight.

You moaned softly around him, gagging slightly before that rush of heat flooded your mouth as you worked your throat to swallow every last drop of the load he was feeding you.

Miguel panted, dragging some much needed air in his lungs as he let you pull back, hacking and coughing as your airways flooded with oxygen again. You grin maliciously and bite down on his thigh. No venom of course, but just enough to remind him you were there, earning you a sharp glare and a slap to the back of your head as you licked your lips.

He ran a hand through his hair, and it wasn't but a moment later before he yanked you to your feet, and shoved his tongue past your lips to overpower yours, tasting his cum lingering on your breath as his heavy rut-scent flooded your nose. You moaned shamelessly into the kiss, biting and tugging at each others lips until a burst of cooper flooded your mouth.

Miguel pulled away and licked at his bloody lip, before his mouth twisted into a snarl. He barreled into you, forcing you against a rooftop air-conditioning unit.

His hand reached down as he ripped at your suit, your breasts bouncing free.

Of course you weren't wearing a fucking bra. Probably no panties either. Because you were just that fucking horny and desperate.

He leaned down and took one of your pebbling nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking roughly as you push your head back against the unit, the metal bumping as you do, a strangled cry coming from you.

He pulled back, before delving back down and putting the same torture on your other tit. This time however he pulled back, biting down on the marshmallowy flesh, making you mewl out as his tongue laves over the mark he made.

"Miguel!" You snarl, thrashing your leg to kick at him, your frustration and neglect finally getting to you.

Miguel caught your flailing lim and forced it up, pinning it against the air-conditioning unit with another shot of his webs, before securing your already bound hands with more, above your head.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hot and heavy breath ghosting over your sweaty skin, before his hands once again swiped and gripped at your cunt, pawing at it like a cat kneading a blanket.

Miguel lazily dragged two fingers torturously slow up your slit, before punching your clit hard through the fabric.

"You've been misbehaving... But I know you're just going to keep acting out until I give you what you want." Miguel sneered into your ear.

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he pulled away, making a frustrated sob at the lack of contact.

You nearly had the air punched out of your lungs when Miguel dropped to his knees, inhaling the scent of your soaked pussy like it was a drug he needed a hit of. He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up the soaked fabric, before latching on and sucking.

Now this was new. Getting eaten out through the fabric of your clothes. There was too much contact but somehow not enough as he rutted his nose at your clit, sucking more at your folds drawing more of your slick through the fabric.

You thrashed against his webs, trying so hard to roll your hips and fuck his face, but with the way you were pinned, you were at his mercy, especially when he hoisted your free leg over his shoulder. He pressed two fingers against your covered hole as he furiously suckled your clit.

Your orgasm crashed into you so hard you couldn't even manage a scream, your mouth just hung open on a silent cry, eyes rolling back as a fresh gush of slick leaked through your suit.

Miguel smiled against you and tore your suit's crotch open, and you shivered as the humid, summer air made contact with your slick and creamy folds. You barely had a second to realize what was happening before Miguel plunged back in, his nose rutting your clit once more as I sucked at your cream, your slick covering his chin.

Miguel was the best sexual partner you ever had, he knew exactly how to eat you out to the point you lost your voice without even using it.

Just as your second orgasm was creeping up on you, he pulled his mouth away, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand and licking his chops like a dog eyeing a juicy stake.

His cock bobbed against his stomach as he stood, a steady stream of precum dribbling out of the tip and to the ground below.

He pulled your free leg to wrap around his waist as he slid the underside of his cock against your puffy cunt.

Miguel bit down on your shoulder, hard as he forced himself into you with one brutal thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he punched your guts through your womb with his cock, spearing you wide as he set a rapid, relentless pace for the both of you.

You uttered breathless pleas, praises, and incoherent mumblings with each thrust; the two of you grunting and moaning in each others ears like rabid animals, Miguel's cock slamming home into your pussy, squelching, dripping, the slap of skin and hips colliding filling the very atoms around you.

Your body screamed, cried, ached for him to fuck you, fill you up to the brim.

Miguel's tip crammed against your cervix in such a brutal way that you swore he bullied himself into your womb with every thrust. It was a blossoming pain that bled into pleasure, quickly bringing you back to the edge of your second orgasm that he had denied you.

"That's it, baby." Miguel snarled in your ear. "Ah... So tight for me. You want me?"

You nodded, whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Want me to fuck you til you can't walk for a week? Stretch you til all you can think of is my cock?" He said, his voice edging on a gleeful tone as he pants, turning his head and licking at the sweat on your neck.

"Want me to fucking breed you?"

You bite into his shoulder at that, whimpering as his suit glitches around your fangs and you lick at the blood welling up.

He hissed, and his pace became frantic, almost angry as he reaches down and pinches your clit like before, and your orgasm comes flooding through every blood vessel in your body as you jerk mindlessly against him, your pussy crushing down on him, milking him for everything he can give you.

He moans loudly in your ear, snapping his hips up into yours, balls slapping your ass as you cry out, sobs wracking your chest as your vision blurs and the tension rips out of you.

You whimper, and hiccup against him when he forces himself into you one last time, his tip kissing that oh so lovely spot inside as he pumps his heavy and sticky load deep inside your pussy, dripping out of you with each jagged thrust as he fucks you through his orgasm.

When Miguel's hips still, his hand pets at your hair as he kisses your jaw, nipping the skin there as he slices the webs holding your legs and hands up.

"Mmmmh. I needed that." Miguel sighed into your hair.

You grunted in response, your fists gripping at his suit as you pull him down for a hungry and toothy kiss.

"Take me home and fuck me." You demanded.

All Miguel could do was smile, and carry you back to your apartment. The real trick was keeping his cock sheathed inside of you as he swung from building to building, trying to avoid anybody who may have a camera phone...

But honestly? You didn't care.

However...

The two of you did care, a few weeks later.

When two little pink lines appeared on the stick in your hand.

"Fuck."

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel O'Hara x you #my writing #spiderverse smut #smut

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sarahowritesostucky · 9 months ago

Text

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 4

The Dragon, The Princess & The Knight

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 4331

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!

The Dragon’s Den is located on the bottom two floors of a five-story building. Bucky owns the entire thing. There are offices and meeting rooms on the third floor, a large gathering space on the fourth, and his personal apartment on the fifth. It’s a penthouse: luxurious, all windows but not much of a view, given the location. But that’s okay. It serves its purpose.

Lena gets quiet when they take her up in the elevator, but she’s keyed up and loose from the drugs, Bucky can tell. Her eyes roam all around the familiar apartment when they get up there, from the luxe couches and the fireplace, to the kitchen and bar, to the bed. It isn’t a canopy bed so much as it is a mattress, richly-dressed and surrounded by semi-sheer drapes that hang from the ceiling in every direction, pooling sumptuously on the floor and turning the area around the bed into its own room.

It’s a fuck pad—exactly what Bucky designed it for.

Bucky follows her there, watching her looking at the bedspread with dazed eyes. She’s high, the drugs coursing through her system. That’s good. The aphrodisiacs were part of the plan from the beginning, to help her loosen up for what comes next. Bucky doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it. If Lena refuses to admit her feelings on her own, then he’s glad to give her a little help until she can. He comes up to stand behind her as she trails her fingers over the bedspread. His hands settle on her hips. “Haven’t changed a thing, malyshka,” he murmurs, bending to kiss lightly at her neck, just under her ear. “Kept it for you.”

“For your whores,” she mutters.

Far from upsetting him, the accusation actually makes Bucky smile, because it means she cares. “No,” he tells her with a low chuckle. “I haven’t been with another woman other than you, sweet pea. Not in nine whole years.” He’d slipped in the beginning, just in that first year, before he’d given up on morality and decided that she was going to be it for him. Before he’d been sure of her feelings for him in return. “Not, one,” he repeats against her neck, smug.

She whirls around in his arms, eyes wide and lips parted. Her surprise turns to a scowl. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he says calmly, holding her gaze, and he can see the doubt creep into her expression, the wavering disbelief.

“He’s not,” Steve adds, from where he’s fixing drinks over at the bar—straight on the rocks for them, cranberry spritzer for her. He’s using the Russo-Baltique without having asked, and Bucky concurs: the occasion calls for it. Steve stirs the drinks with a clink of ice. “He loves you Polina. Don’t know why you refuse to accept it.”

Bucky sees her cheeks color prettily, and he cups the side of her face. “You really scared me this time,” he tells her, dropping all pretense and just letting her see him. “Ten months? That’s too long, Lena.” He shakes his head, sees her swallow. He edges closer and pulls on her waist so that she’s pressed up against him, her eyes skipping over his face uncertainly. “Too long,” he whispers, before he dips down and captures her mouth in a kiss that feels like coming home.

It’s not like it’d been downstairs. She’s off her guard now, all emotions and no defenses, and even though her body stiffens for the barest second, after that she goes soft against him, sobbing once against his mouth in a way that says she’s missed him, too. Missed this.

Bucky kisses her harder, hand sliding to pull her in at her lower back and cradle the back of her head. He holds her and lets her hide in their kiss for a few more seconds. It almost aches to pull away and end it, but Bucky knows himself, knows he won’t be able to keep from pushing her back the handful of steps to the bed if he doesn’t pause now. He doesn’t want this night to go wrong. He needs her to consent at the beginning, otherwise he’ll have no leverage over her, and she’ll be right back to her old ways in no time. “Come on,” he coaxes, pulling back and taking her hand in his. She’s so small, he remembers, as her fingers slip into his. “Let’s sit down for a little while, huh? C’mere.”

He walks her over to the couch, sitting her down between him and Steve. Steve’s turned the fireplace on, and he hands her the vodka cranberry, which she takes with a meek little ‘thank you’, head tucked down over her drink. Steve and Bucky’s eyes meet from over her shoulder, communicating silently, as they’ve become so adept at doing. Bucky told Steve that he might send him away tonight, if it looked like Lena couldn’t handle it. But so far, his presence seems to be helping her to stay calm, and that’s good. Bucky wants her relaxed. He wants her between them.

He sips from his own drink and curls his arm over her shoulder, and Steve leans close on her other side. Bucky reaches to touch her bandaged forearm. He trails a single finger over the ridiculous neon cheetah spots, connecting them on the way down to her wrist. “Does it hurt?” he asks, fully anticipating the shake of the head she gives him. He’d used numbing salve, and he knows from experience that ink as minor as hers doesn’t tend to hurt once bandaged. His own back is tight and uncomfortable. He’s still shirtless, and he knows he should’ve slathered himself with some of the ointment too, downstairs, but his attention is all on her. As it should be. If his own ink heals poorly, he’ll just have Natasha touch it up later. Bucky hums when she shyly admits that no, it doesn’t hurt. He sips his drink and watches her keenly. “Good,” he says, I don’t want you to hurt, only to feel good.”

Her little mouth pouts, brow wrinkled as she keeps her eyes lowered. Bucky reaches out to guide her chin up with a single finger underneath her jaw. “Hey,” he says softly. “You do understand why I had to do it, don’t you?” He tilts his head, waiting her out, and she looks embarrassed as she avoids his eyes and licks her lips. Bucky hums and pulls his hand back. She does understand, she just doesn’t want to say so. “You’re mine, Lena,” he tells her gently. “You always have been. Ever since that first time you let me in between your legs.”

Her eyes flick up to him, widened, and then narrowed. Her flush deepens and her lips part like maybe she’ll try and rebuff him. Steve, as well-timed as he is with these things, jumps in at just the right moment. “Hey, you like that?” he asks her, indicating the glass she’s holding. “Did I make it right?”

Lena nods, peeking over at him. “Yeah. It’s … it’s my favorite. … Thanks, Steve.”

He offers a soft smile and turns into her. “I always remember what you like best, honey.” The way he says it makes her fluster, her smile faltering from nerves. Bucky makes a gesture with his hand from where he’s got his arm around her waist, and Steve takes the cue and sidles closer, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch, right behind her shoulders. It puts the three of them even closer together than before, intent unmistakable.

Lena looks up at Steve, who is sipping his drink but keeping his eyes on her, and then she looks to Bucky, brows drawn together in worry. “Bucky …”

“It’s okay,” he soothes her, downing a gulp of his drink before setting it aside, expensive liquor be damned. He holds her closer, turned in, using his arm around her waist to keep her held against him. He reaches up and turns her uncertain face back towards him. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay. Steve just wants to be close with you. Like I do.” He lets their lips brush together and nudges her nose with his, affectionate. “He cares about you, y’know?”

Behind her, Steve’s hand has started sliding up over her thigh, petting her from over the silk of her dress. “Always have,” he murmurs.

She inhales and makes to turn her head, but Bucky holds her still. “Shh sh sh, hey, look at me, Lena.” She does, and he looks her in her drugged-up little eyes. “If you want him to go, just say so. He will.” He’s whispering at this point, and he leans in and kisses her softly on the mouth, taking his time, letting her feel the press of his lips until she moans very quietly. He pulls back, “But if you’re worried about what he’ll think of you and me, you shouldn’t.”

“Wha?”

Bucky smiles, glad that they used the aphrodisiac. If she was sober right now, he’s sure Lena would bolt. “Steve doesn’t care,” he tells her gently, petting the side of her face, stroking her hair. “He knows you’re my half-sister, and he doesn’t care.”

Lena whines and squirms, trying to hide her face in his palm. Behind her, Steve leans in and kneads her shoulder. “I’d like to stay, honey. Be with you and Bucky, if you’ll let me.”

Bucky gives her a tender, coaxing look. “What do you want, Princess? You just tell me. You want Steve to stay? He cares about you, you know. That’s why I told him about us. Told him a long time ago. And you know what he said? Know what he thought?” He tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers, “He said he could always tell, and he thought it was fucking hot.”

Lena whimpers, but he hushes the sound away. “No, sweetheart. Mm mn. He doesn’t care. Look at him. Look in his eyes. Go on.” He moves her gently, forcing her to turn her head to where Steve is waiting right there on the other side. Steve’s arm tightens behind her, his face in hers, eyes darkened. “Ask him,” Bucky prods, wanting to make her do it herself. He can only see the back of her head when she’s turned into Steve, but he stays close, tucked up behind her, pulling her hair back in one hand and stroking her skin. He kisses the back of her shoulder. “Ask him what he wants.”

“Steve?” her voice is quiet, shy, and Bucky’s lips curl against her skin when he can tell that Steve’s gently pulled her into a kiss.

They kiss for a long moment, slow, mouths making soft little sounds that make Bucky’s pulse quicken. Then Steve’s murmuring, “Want you to feel good, honey. You’re so beautiful, you know that? Just want to make you feel good and so safe.” He kisses her again, and Lena moans quietly.

Bucky watches them kiss, his dick straining against the seam of his pants as it hardens. This is the exact scenario he’s been fantasizing about for years, now. And now Lena’s right here, between them, softening against Steve’s coaxing advances just like Bucky’s always hoped she would. He presses up more fully against her back, joining them, one hand curling round her waist again. “Steve and I share a lot, sweet pea,” he tells her quietly, kissing across her neck and shoulder while Steve keeps softly making out with her. Bucky lets his hand slip down to her hip and inwards to her belly. He splays his fingers out wide and presses, getting another tiny moan out of her. “We’re close,” he whispers, kissing along her shoulder. “Closer than most friends are. You understand?” He waits a moment, then reaches around for Steve, cupping the side of his face while he’s still kissing Lena. Steve pulls back and meets his eyes, pupils blown, and Bucky feels his dick twitch at how dark his irises have gotten. “Show her,” he murmurs.

Steve sits there for a second more, breathing open mouthed and staring with lust-blown eyes, then he groans quietly and leans over Lena’s shoulder to kiss Bucky.

They make out for a moment, though it feels like longer, the hot and heavy press of their mouths harsher with each other than they’d been with Lena. Bucky drags his teeth against Steve’s lower lip as he pulls away, his hand still on Steve’s cheek. He guides him back to Lena, looking between them—Steve’s lax face and Lena’s shocked, aroused look. Bucky purrs, “Go on.”

When Lena looks to him again, unsure, he shushes her and promises, “It’s okay to want it, puppy. Steve and I want it. S’nothing wrong. Just the three of us. Steve and I want to make you feel good.” He kisses her neck again, while Steve takes hold of her face.

“You still gonna let us do that, sweetheart?” he asks her. “Mm?”

“I … ohn …”

Bucky peeks over her shoulder and sees Steve’s hand cupping her breast through the silk of her dress. Lena’s body presses into it instinctually, and Bucky groans at the sight. Fuck, he wants them all naked and on the bed together, now.

He growls quietly and pulls Lena back to him. Her lips look swollen from the kissing. Bucky maintains a good amount of scruff, verging on a short beard; and Steve, while usually clean shaven, is sporting a bit of stubble now that it’s so late at night. Lena’s chin is rubbed pink from both of them kissing her. The sight makes Bucky smile. He can’t wait to mess her up so badly. Steve ducks down to kiss her throat while he keeps feeling up her breasts, and Bucky goes up to whisper in her ear. “See? It’s nice, isn’t it? Does it feel good, puppy? Having two men’s hands on you at once?”

“Ohn … I, mmm.”

“Yeah? You like how it feels when he touches you there?” Bucky asks. In his arms, Lena nods and gives a breathy little ‘ah ha’. Bucky holds her back to him, both arms wrapping around her waist while Steve lavishes her with attention in front. He palms her breasts, sucks a hickey against her collarbone while he plucks at her nipples from over the silk. His hands wander all over her body, insatiable, over her thighs and waist, touching Bucky’s arms that are wrapped around her as he goes. Steve nuzzles at the side of her jaw and locks eyes with Bucky, lips parted. “She’s gorgeous,” he whispers, and Lena shivers between them. “Thank you.”

Bucky’s eyes gleam back at him, and he lets one of his hands slide down her belly again, down to the vee of her legs. He starts rubbing light circles there, slip-sliding over the fabric of her dress, and Lena’s breath catches. “Yeah,” Bucky murmurs to her, still staring at Steve. “You’re welcome, Stevie.”

Steve groans when he sees what Bucky’s doing. “Oh, honey,” he coos, talking to Lena while Bucky’s hand presses and rubs in delicate patterns over the front of her sex. Steve leans into her, presses their foreheads together. “Does that feel good? It does, doesn’t it?” he purrs, egging her and Bucky on at the same time. His hand lands on top of Bucky’s and rides the motion of his fingers, and Bucky groans quietly. “Look down, honey,” Steve whispers. “Look down at us touching you, please.”

She does, obeying Steve and looking at their hands molded to her mound. She makes a devastated little noise in her throat, hips jumping forward. Bucky chuckles lowly and circles the flats of his fingers right where he knows she needs it. “Is Steve right?” he asks, voice like gravel. “S’this feel so good, puppy? You like it when I rub like this, hm?”

She whines and refuses to answer, but the response of her body is more than enough. She can’t stop grinding forward against their hands. Bucky hums darkly and keeps rubbing, his chin hooked over her shoulder to watch his and Steve’s hands working together. Steve’s other hand is on her breast, thumb swiping back and forth over her tightly pebbled nipple from over the silk.

It makes Bucky ache so bad it almost hurts, to finally get to see his best friend, closest confidant and sometimes-lover touch their girl intimately for the first time. Their girl, Christ. Could he be that lucky? “Yeah,” Bucky breathes against her ear. “Yeah, you like it just like this. I remember. Tight little circles, right here, pushing down, workin’ the seam of your panties right over you clit. That’s what feels nice, huh princess?” He kisses her temple and works his hand a little firmer. “Are you soaking through ‘em yet?”

Lena moans louder than before and tosses her head, twisting in his arms, but Bucky hauls her in even harder against him, his one arm around her waist holding her still like an iron bar. “Stevie,” he says, “Feel her. Tell me.”

Lena cries out prettily when Steve’s hand sneaks between her legs and presses against her panties. He hums and chuckles, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “She’s soaked.”

Bucky purrs smugly against the side of Lena’s face, nuzzling her burning cheek. “See? Can’t hide from us, malyshka. I know. I know what you like, and you’d better believe I’m gonna teach Steve every little bit of it.” She squirms against him weakly, embarrassed, and that only gets him harder, makes him want it more. “Steve,” he says while he pets Lena’s hair to calm her. “Let’s move this to the bed.”

Steve’s eyes light up and he nods. He turns his attentions to Lena and Bucky lets her go so Steve can pull her up with him as he stands, holding her to his body and then scooping her up entirely when she stumbles on her feet. “Aw, come here, honey,” he murmurs into her hair, carrying her over to set her gently down on the bed.

Bucky picks up his tumbler and faces the fireplace as he finishes the expensive liquor inside before it can go too watery from the ice. He’s just drinking the last of it when he hears Steve murmuring gently from back by the bed,

“There you go. Let’s take this off. You’re okay, easy sweetheart.”

Bucky stands and goes over to them. Steve’s got Lena lying back on the mattress and is sitting there beside her, gently edging the straps of her dress over her shoulders. He’s taking his time, leaning down to pet her waist or kiss her sweetly whenever her nerves pick up and she looks like she’ll start making a fuss. “Shh, honey. It’s okay. You’re beautiful. Just want to see you.”

Bucky walks to the other side of the bed and makes quick work of his clothes. He keeps his briefs on purely as a matter of caution. Better to go slow, rather than rush things too fast and scare her. He climbs onto the mattress and meets Steve’s eyes, giving him a look that says he should do the same. Steve nods and pulls back to stand and undress.

Bucky takes the moment to pull Lena with him, back to sit against the headboard. He shushes her when she fusses, guiding her to relax back against him. Her dress, little more than a silk slip to begin with, slides down her body as they move, bearing her breasts. She squeaks and moves to pull it back up, but Bucky grabs her hands and tells her it's okay. “You heard Steve,” he murmurs against her skin. “We both think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, sweet pea. No need to fuss about showing us your beautiful body.” He lets her hands go so that he can cup her breasts. Their soft weight in his hands makes him ache with another wave of yearning. God, he’s missed her so much.

“Bucky,” she breathes, turning her face into him. Her eyes are closed in shyness, making Bucky smile.

“It’s okay,” he coos. “We want you. We want you between us. Are you gonna be my sweet girl, hm? Gonna let us love you, sora mica?”

It’s a risky thing to say at this point in the game, calling her little sister right in front of Steve. She squirms back against him, upset but turned on and unable to hide it. Bucky smiles and wraps his arms around her fully, hugging her back against him. “Look at him,” he whispers into her ear, grin audible in his voice. “Isn’t he pretty?”

Lena stares at Steve, open mouthed and dazed. She makes a tiny little sound in the back of her throat—nerves and arousal both. Bucky nods with his face hooked over her shoulder. “Yeah, I know. Why do you think I fuck him?”

Lena tenses, then she turns her head to peek at him. Bucky grins, because he can see how she finds it hot. “You like that?” he laughs, kissing her cheek. “Mm hm. Thought you might.” Deviously, he holds her breast and tweaks her nipple, murmuring, “I remember your Pornhub playlists, puppy. I know you like to watch two men fucking.”

She squirms and whines and tosses her head, but it’s only in embarrassment and not to get away from him, and besides, Bucky loves a bit of a struggle from his girl. He just laughs and hauls her in against his body. “Oh, calm down,” he scolds her. “You’re supposed to be a grown woman. You can admit when something turns you on.”

She huffs and fights him another second, but stills when Steve climbs up onto the bed to join them. He’s in nothing but his boxer briefs, and Bucky hums at the sight of him. Steve’s got a gorgeous body. Bucky’s never considered himself bisexual, but Steve has been his one exception. Bucky’s always wanted him. “Help our girl out,” he tells him. “She’s overdressed.”

Steve smiles and crawls over, taking a moment to cradle Lena’s face and kiss her before pulling back. He gently edges her dress down over her hips and legs, tossing it aside. He pushes her legs apart and lies down between them, face right at her panties. Bucky feels his cock harden even further at the sight of Steve running his hands over her thighs, thumbs running along the edge of her panties. Bucky groans and Steve’s eyes twinkle up at them.

“Relax, hon,” he tells Lena. “Lie back against your brother. Let him hold you.”

Lena’s breath catches at how openly he just says it, and Bucky smirks down at Steve in approval. Steve knows the game they’re playing, the delicate balance of keeping her calm and riling her up. “See?” Bucky says against the shell of her ear. “I told you: he’s into it. You don’t have to be shy.”

“Steve,” she breathes, “I …”

“You want this?” he asks, staring up at her with dark eyes as he pulls her panties down slowly. “Gonna let me taste you, honey?”

She lifts her hips for him without thought, and Steve grins and pulls her panties all the way off, tossing them aside. “Good girl,” he praises, settling down between her legs again. His focus shifts down, and he groans at the sight of her. “Oh, sweetheart …”

Bucky chuckles lowly and watches Steve getting his very first look. “I know, right?” Lena whines between them and Bucky slides his hand up to cover her mouth, muffling her cries. “Shh, Lena. The grownups are talking.”

Below, Steve snickers, his hands pushing Lena��s thighs further apart as he stares. “Fuck, Buck.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier pussy,” Steve breathes, his mouth only inches from her core. He frames her with his hands, using his thumbs to gently explore her folds. “God, Lena.” He talks to her without looking away from where he’s touching. “You’re perfect.”

Under Bucky’s palm, she makes little noises of embarrassment, “Mmn, hmmhh …”

Bucky chuckles and pulls her hard against him. “Stop fighting it, puppy,” he teases, licking a hot swipe up her neck. He feels her resultant shiver. “You’re going to love it. We’re gonna make you feel so good. You just have to give into it.” He kisses her skin. “I’m gonna take my hand away now, and you’re going to admit that this feels good, you hear me?” He puts a little sternness into his voice, because he knows from experience that she responds well to it. He brings his hand from her mouth, down to her neck, giving a little squeeze. “Tell us,” he says. “C’mon. I don’t want to hear you lying to me now, girl.”

“Bucky,” she pants, voice wrecked. The aphrodisiacs are doing their job. “I … I want …”

“What?” Steve asks, looking up at her. He kisses her inner thigh, right next to her sex, and she moans. “What do you want, honey? Want me to touch you?” He lets his thumb trail over her, softly moving over the hood of her clit. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Lena. These pretty pink folds? Fuck, I’ve never seen such a juicy pussy.”

Lena moans, and Bucky knows they’ve got her now, she’s not going to fight them anymore. He drags his teeth over her neck and murmurs, “Tell him how you like it, puppy. Go on.” When she doesn’t say anything, just lies there panting and squirming, whining for his touch, Bucky chuckles and kisses her. “That’s alright, sweet pea. I can tell him.” He locks eyes with Steve and feels his belly clench at what they finally have between them, now. They’ve talked about it for so long, and now it’s finally happening. Bucky tightens his hand on Lena’s neck, giving her just enough pressure to restrict her breathing the tiniest bit. “I know all your kinks, don’t I?” he purrs, and she whines and nods, panting,

“Bucky, fuck, please …”

“There’s my girl,” he praises. He looks down at Steve. “Rub her like you were doing, just barely touching her clit, just lightly now. Our girl’s sensitive, ain’t that right, puppy?”

Lena nods, chin bumping his hand.

Steve follows Bucky’s every direction, gently circling his thumb over her clit, trailing just the tip of his finger through her folds, smearing her wetness all over. “So wet,” he breathes. Carefully, looking up to watch Lena’s face as he does it, he presses his finger into her while still rubbing her clit. Lena moans the prettiest little sound. “Yeah?” Steve asks, looking up at her. “That feel nice, honey?” He fucks her gently on just that one finger, curling it to get at the soft spot inside. He lowers his face and laps at her clit while his thumb keeps working it from above.

“There you go,” Bucky murmurs. “Just like that. That’s how she likes it.” He kisses Lena’s neck and uses his other hand to palm and pluck at her breast. “Work her clit and fuck her on your fingers—give her another, two, yeah. Curl ‘em and just keep working her real gentle just like that. She’ll cum that way.”

Steve listens and does exactly as Bucky says, keeping his hand rocking in her slow and steady, his other hand spread out over her belly, pushing down, thumb flicking softly back and forth on her clit while he laves gently over her lips. Sure enough, Lena’s breath quickens, her body growing taught, then shaking, trembling as she gets close. “Oh … nnn, ughn … ohplease, oh.”

“There you go, little one, just let it out now, let it happen.” Bucky coaxes her through it, holding her tightly as she jerks and cries out in pleasure. Below, Steve groans and nods his face against her as he feels her body ripple around his fingers, and Bucky growls. “Theere you go, oh, good girl.”

“Fuck,” Steve exhales, looking up at Bucky with wet lips. “She’s creamin’ all over my hand, fuck.”

“Show me.” Bucky grinds his hips forward against Lena’s backside for a little bit of relief, and when Steve gets up to him and presents his hand, Bucky groans at the smell of her on his fingers. He opens his mouth for a taste, staring at Steve, and sucks her juices straight off his fingers.

Steve’s eyes blacken and he curses. He pulls his hand back and checks on Lena. “You okay honey?” he asks, holding her face and giving her a kiss. “Feel good?”

“Mm. Mm hm.” She’s still got her eyes closed from the orgasm, and slowly, she opens them. Steve smiles down at her. She sighs and smiles, too. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, hon. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“You should show Steve some attention,” Bucky murmurs in her ear. “Here, lie down. C’mon. Steve, get on your back.” He moves them so that Lena is lying on her side alongside Steve. She’s at the level of his hip, and Bucky lies behind her and guides her hand to the front of Steve’s underwear. “Touch him,” he coaxes, curling her fingers with his own over the line of his erection. “There you go. Come on now, princess, I know you know how to do this part. Make Steve feel good while I fuck you, okay?”

Lena’s gone on the drugs and on her own arousal, inhibitions nowhere to be seen as she turns into Steve to kiss his abs and rub her cheek against his lower belly, nosing at the trail of hair that leads down into his underwear. She curls her hand from over the fabric and squeezes. Tentatively, she edges down the waistband. “Oh,” she whispers, sounding surprised when she gets him uncovered and he kicks his underwear off for her. Bucky watches and hurriedly strips his off as well, crowding back in behind her.

“You like that, honey?” Steve rumbles from above, grabbing at his balls and giving them a tug. “Go on. You can touch me.”

She does, taking Steve’s heavy cock in her hand and closing her fingers around him. He’s just as hard as Bucky is, if not more. Bucky didn’t miss how he’d been grinding on the mattress when he had his face buried between Lena’s legs.

While she slowly gains confidence stroking him, Bucky curls up behind her and plays along her folds from behind, gathering her slick on his fingers and trailing them back to her tight little furl. She inhales sharply in surprise when he starts rubbing her there, applying gentle circles of pressure, gradually, until his finger slips in.

“Ah,”

“Shh.” He kisses her shoulder blade, hushing her. “S’okay, little one. You’ve taken me back here before. It’s just one right now, you feel? S’just my finger.” She relaxes incrementally as he fucks her on his hand, one finger and then two in her ass, just giving her shallow little thrusts that get her used to the feeling and help her loosen up. He rubs his thumb along her taint and lets it dip teasingly into her cunt with the motion of his hand. “Touch yourself,” he whispers. “Go on, malyshka. Be a good girl now and rub on your pussy while you make Steve feel good.”

She whimpers, but after a second he can feel her obeying, squirming to get her free hand down between her legs to touch herself. Bucky hums, pleased, and returns to prepping her asshole. “You know, sweet pea,” he whispers, speaking against the bend of her neck. “You should put him in your mouth.” He kisses her neck and gives a tiny little nip. “He made you feel good with his mouth, didn’t he? You should do the same. Come on. Just the tip, baby girl. Just let him feel your sweet, wet mouth sucking on the head. Give ‘im a taste.” He turns his fingers in her ass, scissoring them apart to stretch her rim.

“Hnngh.”

“Your mouth,” Bucky reminds softly. “Give him your mouth, puppy.”

Lena’s adorable and beautiful when she gets like this, all trembles and nonverbal squeaks and whines, like a dumb little doll once you really get her worked up, and Bucky’s always gone nuts for the way she looks like an absolute fuck doll when she’s got her mouth full of cock.

Steve must think the same, because he groans from above and stares down at her, his hands coming down to rest on her head as she slurps him in. “Shit, baby, yeah. Fuck.”

Bucky hums lowly. “Careful now, Stevie. She can’t take too much. Jus’ let her play.”

Steve grunts and nods, looking pained. But he holds still and lets Lena explore at her own pace. Bucky smirks and goes back to work behind her. He reaches behind himself to the edge of the mattress, finding the lube. He brings it back and coats his fingers good before returning them to her ass. He takes his time, enjoying the wet sounds of Lena’s mouth sucking Steve, while he wets his fingers up and massages her tight little hole, coaxing her open and stuffing lube inside, coming back again and again for more. He plays with her until she’s good and loose, her body finally giving way to the intrusion of two fingers and losing that instinctive reaction as the muscle gives in. “Theere it is,” he murmurs, giving her a third finger for a few moments just to be sure. Lena whines with her mouth full of cock and Bucky scrapes his teeth over her neck. “You still touchin’ yourself, puppy?”

“Mmm, mmph hmm.”

“Good girl. I’m gonna push inside now.”

She whines around Steve’s cock, and while Bucky lines himself up, Steve hushes her, whispering, “Shhh, Lena. You can take it. I know you can. He told me, you know that? Told me how tight you are back there, how good you take him.” Lena squeals and moans at his words, but Steve keeps his hands clamped on the back of her neck and her shoulder, not letting up. “Go on, Buck,” he pants. “Take her.”

It’s such a fucking tight squeeze, but Bucky takes his time and waits her out, pushing, and when his cockhead finally slips inside, it gets easier from there. He waits, knowing his girl’s body well. She needs to settle, adjust to the intrusion before it can start feeling good for her. So he holds still and pets her hip while she chokes and cries out at the intrusion. Steve’s cock slips from her mouth and she gasps, “Ahhn! ohnn…” Poor thing, she’s so overwhelmed.

Bucky slips his hand around where she’s forgotten about touching herself. He knocks her hand out of the way and takes over, rubbing tight circles down over her clit and whispering filth into her hear. “Fuck, baby, you lettin’ daddy in? Yeah you are, so good, sweetie pie. Doing so good for me. You’re my good little girl.” In front of him, Lena sobs, and he can tell from the sound of it that it’s in humiliated pleasure. He groans and slides his way in, pushing until he’s buried to the hilt, hips against her ass. “Fuuck,” he hisses, holding still to calm himself down. He doesn’t want this to be over yet. He’s not done with her. He rubs her clit and purrs in her ear, “How’s that feel, huh? S’it a lot? Shh sh sh I know, I know. But you’re so good to let daddy have this, little girl. Feels so fucking good inside your tight little ass, you’ve got no idea.”

She shivers and cries, hips jumping, panting open mouthed against Steve’s stomach when Bucky pinches her clit and rubs it just so. “Ohgn! Bucky…”

“Steve,” he grunts. “Get down here.”

Steve’s there in a second, sliding down in the bed and pressing up against Lena’s front, sandwiching her between their bodies. “Hey darlin’,” he whispers, holding her face and keeping her attention. “You’re so pretty,” he tells her, kissing her to keep her distracted.

“Touch her,” Bucky breathes. “Get her ready.”

Steve does, rubbing her clit and teasing along her folds before slipping inside of her with two fingers. She groans long and low at the added stretch. “Shh,” Steve hushes gently, curling his fingers. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck, I can feel your fucking fingers,” Bucky gasps. “Unnh.”

In front, Steve gets Lena to open up for him, dipping into her mouth with his tongue and kissing her to keep her calm. “Hey, honey. I want to fuck you, too. You think you can try for me? Let me slip inside with your brother?” He says it on purpose, Bucky suspects, just to let her know again that he’s not judging her, that he likes how wrong it is, just like they do. She squeals and jerks in their arms when he says it, but they easily still her struggles. “Shhh, Lena. It’s okay. I want you,” Steve promises, holding her still. “I want both of you.” He rocks his hips forward, letting his dick slide against her folds, the head bumping Bucky’s balls.

“Nooo,” Lena moans, “I can’t, please, I can’t.”

“You can take it, puppy,” Bucky coos, knowing that they’ll have to force it, if they want to find out if she can take them both. She’s too nervous. “Steve,” he says tightly. “Just do it. Go slow.”

Lena cries out and tries to fight them, but she’s so small and weak, easy to maneuver and hold still. Steve goes to his back and pulls her on top of him, and with Bucky pressing her down from behind, she doesn’t stand a chance. Steve wraps his arm around her back like a steel band and uses his other hand to guide himself into her pussy. “Holy shhh—” he hisses, going silent as he slips inside.

“Oh my fucking god,” Bucky breathes, eyes slamming shut at the pressure, at the feeling of Steve’s cock through her walls. “Oh, Steve, oh fuck.”

Between them, Lena sobs, overwhelmed, and Bucky readjusts himself, trying to take some of his weight off her. “Hold still Steve,” he orders. “Don’t move. Give her a minute.” He gets to his knees behind her and helps Steve hold her down against his chest. Steve’s one hand has gone up and clamped behind her neck, and he’s whispering little platitudes against her forehead. “Shh sh sh, it’s okay, just relax honey, relax.”

Bucky groans. It’s so much. He can feel Steve’s dick right there, like there’s nothing separating them. It’s enough to get his balls tightening. “Fuck Stevie,” he huffs, both hands planted on Lena’s back to keep her down. “Fuck, we’re … we’re actually …”

“Yeah,” he gasps, sounding just as amazed as Bucky feels. “I can feel you.”

“Fuck, me too. Me too.” They’ve talked about it so many times, and now they’re actually doing it, both inside her at the same time. It’s so hot, it makes Bucky feel dizzy. He has to hold still, too, or else he’s going to bust his nut right then and there. “Shit,” he whispers, body trembling as he tries to control his breathing, “Shhiiit.”

Between them, Lena’s cries have calmed down to groans, and she wiggles her hips in a way that has the both of them gripping her harder. “Ohnn,” she whines. “Ss-steve, oh, it’s…”

“I know honey, I know. You okay?” Steve checks, petting her side and guiding her face up to get a look at her. Bucky catches the little smile he gives her, and he feels the shiver that rolls through Lena’s body in response. She’s calming down, thank God. “Yeah?” Steve asks, sounding encouraged. “Y’feel full, honey? Takin’ both our cocks at the same time?” Lena whines, aroused, and Steve’s eyes go molten hot.

Bucky watches as the two of them make out. He strokes Lena’s back and slips a hand down under her belly. Steve’s pubic hair tickles his fingers as he finds her clit and strokes it. “Oh,” Bucky sighs, smiling in relief at when he finds. “You’re soaked, babygirl.” Carefully, still stimulating her with his hand, he lets his hips pull back the barest bit, then eases back in. It hardly even counts as a real thrust, but it makes Lena sob against Steve’s mouth and grind forward against Bucky’s fingers. “There you go, sweetheart.” He gives her another, and another. “There you go.”

“Holy shit,” Steve whispers.

“Mm hm. She’s taking us just right. Fuckin’ knew it. She’s made for us,” Bucky praises, grunting as her body takes the short, slow thrusts he gives her. “She’s fuckin milking my dick, Steve.”

“Me too.”

Bucky eases up his grip on her, kneeling back and stroking his hands down her back. He pumps his hips shallowly and murmurs, “Grind a little, sweet pea. Grind your clit down on Steve.”

Lena whines, sounding mortified, but after a second she does, rubbing herself off against Steve’s pubic bone. Steve groans at the way it works his cock inside her, the way her walls flutter around him as she starts to feel good. His hands grip her at the waist, fingers digging into her soft curves. “Oh, baby, baby,” he pants, one hand sliding up her back and into her hair, holding her close. “Yeah, does that feel nice? Feel nice bein’ all full and grinding on my cock?”

Lena sobs and nods, working her hips a little harder as she squeezes them both. “Oh god, oh fuck,” she moans. Her hands are grabbing at Steve’s shoulders and she turns her head to the side on his chest. “Nnn, Bucky,” she cries, watery eyes opening and searching him out.

Bucky’s belly flips and he bends over her, kissing at her slack mouth. “Hey Beautiful. M’right here, little one, right here.”

“Daddy,” she sobs.

Bucky’s gits twist with arousal and something deeper, something darker. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s okay. S’it feel good?” She moans miserably and nods, hips still moving between them, working their cocks inside the way she needs, her insides fluttering as she gets close. “Aw, are you gonna cum?” Bucky coos, a tinge of mocking in his voice, just the way he knows helps her get there. “You like getting your holes stuffed, baby? Daddy fucking your ass and Stevie in your cunt? Need to be fucked that much, greedy girl?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she cries, and Bucky’s not sure if she’s saying it about running away, or if she’s just so overwhelmed and humiliated at her own perverse desires. Probably the latter. She can get that way, sometimes, sobbing and apologizing while she comes on Bucky’s cock, calling him daddy while she falls apart.

Bucky kisses her mouth, sloppy, and rocks his hips against her ass as she starts to come. It’s unmistakable, not only in the clench of her body, but in the filthy sounds her cunt makes as she squirts and all three of them get soaked by it. Steve and Bucky both groan loudly as it happens, their bodies squelching and clapping wetly as their skin hits hers.

“Fuck,” Steve curses, hips fucking up into her without control.

Bucky laughs breathlessly, then groans at the friction of their cocks working inside at the same time. “Oh yeah,” he pants, right in Lena’s face and against Steve’s chest. “Didn’t I tell you she’s a squirter? Ughnn …” He fucks into her one last time as his balls draw up and the tight coil of arousal that’s been building and building in his core bursts. He groans and rocks against her ass as he rides it out. “Fuuuck…” He turns his head, beard scraping over Steve’s pec and up to his shoulder. He’s still thrumming in the aftershocks, his balls fucking ache, and he closes his mouth over Steve’s neck, tasting the salt in his sweat. “C’mon, Steve,” he pants, “cum inside her, fill her pussy up all sloppy. She loves that.”

Lena cries out in protest, but Bucky just gives her a hard thrust with his softening dick. “Shut up, puppy. I know what you like.” He’s slipping out of her a second later, not completely soft but too sensitive to stay inside when Steve’s still buried in her cunt. He kneels back and watches Steve’s cock driving in and out of her body. He groans at the sight. “Shit, Steve. You close?”

“Nnngh.”

Bucky laughs, breathless. He reaches down and cups Steve’s balls, curling his fingers sharply up behind them, grinding in against his taint. Steve shouts and his hips jerk up as he starts to come—it’s unmistakable. Bucky growls possessively and slips his hand back to Lena’s ass, slipping her his thumb and making her squeal. “Take it, Princess,” he growls. “You just had a hell of a lot more shoved up this filthy hole. Now take it.”

She cries out, and Bucky can tell from the way she’s moving her hips that she’s trying for another orgasm. Between his legs, his dick gives a tired little pulse, like it wishes it could shove right back up in there. Bucky fucks her and tugs on her rim with his thumb until Steve is spent, then he’s bending over Lena and gathering her in his arms, pulling her back up to kneeling with him, Steve’s cock slipped from her body and lying in a puddle of his cum and her squirt all over his belly.

Bucky growls, grips her throat hard in one hand to hold her against him, and shoves his other hand between her legs. “Look at that filthy fuckin’ mess you made, moya shlyuka,” he rasps right in her ear. “You like it that fucking much, huh?” He’s being mean now, and his fingers are too, as he hooks them in her cunt and tugs, over and over, rocking, getting her right where she needs, the heel of his palm bumping her clit with every motion. “Come on,” he pants, arm straining, working against her hard. “Give Stevie a show now. Show him what a messy fucking cunt you have.”

Lena wails and tenses, right on the edge. “Nnn!!”

“Squirt,” Bucky growls, rocking her whole body with the force of his hand, squeezing her throat. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” He feels her tip over the edge, her insides clamping down against his fingers a split second before she starts squirting. He immediately pulls his hand out and rubs furiously over her folds, making her spray everywhere. “Fu-huck,” he laughs, panting. “Yees. Look at that. There you go baby. There you go.”

Below them, Steve looks like he’d like to come again right then and there, his lips parted and eyes glued to the release she’s gotten all over his groin and belly. “Holy shit,” he breathes, chest heaving from his orgasm. “Oh, fuck.”

Lena squeals when it becomes too much, and Bucky eases off, keeping his hand at her neck and wrapping his arm around her waist in a fierce hug. “Such a good girl,” he praises, all the meanness gone from his voice, replaced with tenderness. “Good, good girl.”

She sobs and slumps against him, and he holds her to his body, sitting back on his heels. “Shhh, you’re okay. Did that feel so good, sweetheart? Aw, I know, I know. It’s a lot. You came so hard, huh?” He eases her down with him, spooning up behind her and petting over her heaving, shuddering sides. “It’s over. We’re all done. So good babygirl.”

Steve turns into her from the front, wrapping her up in his arms as well. One of his hands splays out over Bucky’s back, right over his fresh ink, and Bucky opens his eyes and meets Steve’s gaze from over Lena’s head. They share a shaky smile at what they’ve just shared.

“Told you,” Bucky says, licking his lips. He squeezes Lena’s waist and presses them all closer together. “She’s ours. Yours and mine. Made for us.”

“Yeah.” Steve dips down to cup Lena’s face and kiss her. He whispers praise against her lips, telling her how good she is, how pretty, how sexy. Bucky smiles and stretches, groaning at the twinge of pain when his raw skin pulls. He relaxes and buries his face in Lena’s hair while Steve kisses her overwhelmed tears away, telling her he loves her. Bucky hums, hoping that it’s true. If it’s not, it will be soon. He can just tell. Steve and he share such a close bond, and Lena’s always been irresistible, drawing Steve’s gaze even back before Bucky ever told him about their dirty secret.

Yes, he thinks happily. The three of them are going to have something very deep between them. Even now, having shared their forbidden relationship with Steve, they’ve connected on a deeper level. Bucky feels more sated than he has in a long time, his heart at ease now that he’s got his little one back where she belongs, and Steve right there with him, sharing in it. It’s perfect.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, hugging Lena close, his spent dick snugged up against her ass and his back vaguely stinging. Steve’s low voice murmurs only inches away, sweet and tender reassurances for their girl.

Their girl.

Bucky closes his eyes and kisses the back of her sweaty neck, murmuring Sora Mica at her, over and over, putting it out in the open. They don’t have to hide it anymore. Now they can openly revel in what they share, and they can share it with Steve. Bucky smiles, exhausted, sated, elated. They’ve been at odds for so long, the Princess and the Dragon, fucking and fighting. Now they’ve finally found their missing piece, the balm for all their hurts, their white knight.

This is the beginning of them.

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