#this makes more sense in my head putting it into words is difficult | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illusioninfnty · 1 year ago

Text

"it's a scream, baby!" ↠ day 15 ; keeping quiet

↠ billy loomis x reader x stu macher

fandom: scream word count: 3.9k warnings: nsfw 18+, gf!billy and stu, DUBCON, semi-public sex, homoerotic undertones, mentions of gore, cheating, degradation, dirty talk, thigh fucking, double penetration, knife play if you squint, gagging, unprotected sex, creampies, cumplay, cum eating, fingering, my stu bias definitely shows sorry guys

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You weren’t really much of a party person, and all of your friends were aware of that. It was why none of them gave much resistance to the idea of you slipping away.

Stu’s house was insanely crowded, more than his usual parties. It was obviously because of the recent killing spree by the mysterious masked killer who had yet to be caught. Your general anxiety in loud spaces mixed with that of the unknown killer running around had you even more paranoid.

“Be careful!” Sidney calls out and Tatum waves as you make your way up the staircase. You send a small smile back as you weave your way through drunk teenagers stumbling all around, looking for more drinks.

You’ve been in Stu’s house plenty of times, having been friends with him for years at this point. You make a beeline straight for his bedroom, hoping that no one was in there hooking up so you could have a quiet place to decompress.

You knock loudly on his door, pressing your ear against it as the loud music and teens make it hard to hear inside. There’s no answer to your knowledge, and you slowly peek your head in.

No one is in the room, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You shut the door behind you and plop down on Stu’s bed, laying yourself out in a heap of exhaustion.

A bang from somewhere inside the room startles you, making you jump up from your seat. You notice that Stu’s closet door is slightly ajar, and figure that something inside fell down. You make your way over, the closet creaking as you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips and you step back after seeing what it was that fell.

It was one of the ghostface masks.

You slowly back away, eyes wide in disbelief with what you were seeing. No. It wasn’t possible, right? Stu couldn’t have been the killer; it made no sense. You bend down and cautiously pick up the mask.

It looks like your average store-bought cheap costume accessory. You inspect it closer, but bring a hand up to your mouth and almost drop the mask when you see what’s stained on it.

Small flecks of blood, all spattered across the edges.

The sound of the door creaking has you throwing the mask back into the closet and slamming the door, chest heaving as you pretend as though you weren’t searching through it.

In walks Stu, his trademark grin spread wide across his face.

“Now what are you doing in here?” he teases suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows. He closes the door and leans against it.

But clearly you’re not very good at hiding your emotions, because the smile instantly drops from Stu’s face. “Have you been…snooping in my things?”

You bite your lip and can feel your heart drop in your chest. “What? No! I just came in here to rest.” Your voice sounds incredibly shaking and you know there’s no way he’s buying it.

Stu’s eyes narrow, and he stalks closer to you. You back away in return, but his long strides make it difficult to put distance between the two of you. “I think you’re lying to me.”

He utters out your name in a warning tone. At this point, you know, he knows you know, and you know he knows you know that he’s the Ghostface killer. You make a feeble attempt to duck past Stu and make a run for it, but he grabs your arm and pulls you against his chest, completely restraining you.

You try your best at escaping. You pound on his chest, wiggle in his grip, and even try biting him. That fails miserably and Stu slaps his large palm against your mouth, preventing you from screaming for help.

He drags you over to the bed, and you start to kick your heels against his legs. You aren’t sure what he’s capable of anymore. Is this the moment you die? Is Stu going to kill you? You let out a choked sob underneath his palm, clawing at his hand but to no avail.

You push back against him with all of the force of your body, yet Stu remains solid. “Be quiet,” he mutters in your ear.

And then you feel it. On your backside, you can feel Stu getting hard. You whimper in fear, and your body goes limp. But he clearly notices that you could feel it, and he chuckles darkly.

“Got me excited with all that struggling, babe.” He shamelessly rubs himself against you, his erection fully hard beneath his pants now.

Despite the terror that you feel in that moment, you couldn’t help but moan silently.

You would be lying if you said you never thought of hooking up with your friend. Stu was hot, he was funny, and if Tatum was a reliable source, he also had a huge dick.

If fucking Stu could save you from death, you would gladly let him use you however he wished.

You quickly concoct a plan in your head—a lame one, but a plan—to seduce Stu in an attempt to hopefully convince him not to kill you afterwards.

Before you can even attempt to put your plan into action, the bedroom door creaks open. “Shit,” you hear Stu mutter under his breath. Both you and him turn together, and in walks Billy, sauntering as he usually does.

He pauses and raises an eyebrow as he surveys the position you and Stu are in.

“Did I interrupt something?” Billy smirks, his eyes going dark. You look up through your eyelashes at Stu, who presses you closer to him, as if warning you not to signal for help. He shakes his head at Billy.

“She knows, man.”

Your body goes completely rigid in Stu’s grip. A chill runs down your spine.

Billy was involved in this Ghostface shit too? Well, that actually surprised you less than Stu. Billy was kind of a horror junkie in secret, even rivaling Randy, and he always had this strange look in his eye whenever he thought no one was looking.

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Oh?”

The tone in his voice is sinister, much different than what you’ve heard from him before.

He strides over, pulling out a knife from his pocket and holding it out towards you.

You shriek, but it comes out all muffled. You try to tilt your head away from where Billy points the knife to your chin, but Stu keeps his hand solid, forcing your head forward.

He clicks his tongue at you, teasing you for your failed attempts to escape.

“I really didn’t want to kill you now, sweetheart, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to fall. You still helplessly struggle against Stu’s grip, choking back sobs. You so desperately want Stu to release his hand, want to beg the two of them to keep you alive. You’re two seconds away from sounding like you belong in a bad porno that the boys rent from the video store where the woman says please! I’ll do anything!

But you don’t need to do any of that. Because before Billy starts slicing and dicing and stabbing at you, he backs away and looks Stu up and down. He then barks out a laugh.

“What, did chasing her around get you all stiff?”

Stu grins cheekily and grinds his erection up against your butt. You let out a surprised moan under his palm, grabbing onto his forearm. “You know I’ve always wanted to fuck her, man.”

Billy eyes shift between you and Stu, before pausing on you. A smirk slowly grows across his features until it morphs into a toothy grin. You can see the way his cock begins to twitch in his jeans and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“I’m not going to let you fuck her alone tonight.”

As if Stu was waiting this whole time for Billy’s approval, the hand that was restricting your mouth moves off and down to his jeans. Before you can even think about opening your mouth, Billy brings the knife back up your face, right under your chin forcing you to keep your mouth closed and head tilted up to meet his eyes.

“If you say a word I’ll cut your throat open and stick my cock in it.” He imitates the motion of slicing the knife across your throat.

You swallow harshly and can’t control the way you tremble under Stu’s hold. But the depraved part of you has your core throbbing, at the carnal lust that fills his eyes, so desperately wanting them both to get to fucking you sooner rather than later.

Scoffing in his face, you try your best to put up a calm front. “Are you guys all bark and no bite? All I hear is talking but no action.”

“Oh you’ll be getting action soon, baby.” You can feel Stu’s erect cock rubbing against your backside and the way that his arousal stains your shirt. His hand holds it at the base as he guides it between your legs, slowly fucking you between your thighs. You look down to see the bulging red tip of his cock leaking beads of precum as it penetrates the plush skin of your legs with every thrust.

Billy takes his knife and slices your skirt right down the middle, the two pieces falling to shreds at your feet.

“Yeah, there it is!” Stu yells as his long fingers poke and prod at your pussy through your underwear until it soaks the fabric through. “All nice and wet for us now.”

He moves the material to the side of your puffy lips and without so much as a warning sticks his cock right inside.

“Oh fuck,” you moan out as quietly as you can with the intense pleasure. It slides in easily with how wet you’ve gotten over the past couple of minutes. You arch your back into Stu as his long cock bullies its way inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Stu begins thrusting immediately, the sounds of your skin slapping together being the loudest thing in the room.

“Such a dirty little slut,” Stu’s voice teases, laughter evident in his tone. His arm around your waist holds you up as he pounds into you at lightning speed, bouncing you up and down his cock. Your feet lift off the ground ever-so-slightly as he pulls you up. “But I guess I’m kind of a slut to. Always wanted to fuck you like this.”

Through your lust-filled haze, you can see Billy stroking himself through his boxers, jeans already unzipped and pulled down. He stares at both you and Stu and where the two of you connect.

“You gonna join man?” Stu lifts you up under your thighs. The action lifts your feet up in the air and exposes your pussy directly in Billy’s line of view. Stu pulls his cock out enough so just the head remains inside, and starts fingering around your lips.

You gasp at the sensation, your arms gripping his own and your walls clenching down desperately onto him. Stu’s fingers make a v shape and pull your lips open wide. “There’s plenty of room for you in here.”

“N-no!” You sob out, clawing at Stu and kicking your legs. The implication is not subtle at all, and the fear has you clenching even tighter onto him. There was no way that you could fit both of them in your pussy. Stu’s cock is already thick and fills you completely; you don’t think you could take another one without breaking.

Billy continues to palm himself above his underwear, the head of his cock poking out from the elastic band. “Fuck yeah, now your speaking my language!”

“No! Billy!” You shake your head wildly, tears threatening to fall from your swollen eyes. “Stop! It won’t fit!”

He rolls his eyes and takes his hard cock out of his boxers, pumping it with a few solid strokes. “Stop complaining.”

“He’ll make it fit,” Stu giggles from behind you.

A strangled sound leaves your lips, a mix between a choke and a sob. You’re powerless in Stu’s hold as he moves your limbs every which way he pleases. He never lets up in his thrusts, his stamina completely insatiable, and it doesn’t feel like he’s stopping any time soon.

You have no choice but to lay helpless as Billy guides his cock into your wet hole, pushing against Stu’s. The stretch from the two of their massive lengths is painful, and you bite the outside of your hand as an attempt to soften your cries.

“Fuck,” Billy moans, slotting himself fully inside of you. His eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back in pleasure. Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself.

Your eyes roll back as you start moaning audibly, his cock stuffing you full alongside Stu’s.

“None of that.” Billy slaps a hand over your mouth and digs his fingers into your cheek. “If any one of those sleazebags outside hears those moans I’ll have to kill them and fuck you over their dead body.”

His voice is deep, gravely, and completely serious—you believe him in his entirety. You nod rapidly under his hold. You don’t want the death of anyone to be on your hands, no matter how annoying they are.

“Good. Now stay quiet.”

Billy and Stu take turns fucking themselves up into you. They give you any chance for a break, when one pulls their length almost completely out, the other shoves it in. They take turns pounding themselves into you. Your walls clench hard around them, being stretched to the brim. It takes all your power not to cry out from the pain and pleasure, but the fear from Billy’s unpredictably overpowers all other emotions.

Billy seems to be caught up in the haze of his own arousal, fingers digging in the skin of your hips as he thrusts his cock in and out of you rhythmically. He groans. “Forgot what it’s like to fuck a tight, wet hole. Sidney still hasn’t put out yet.”

Your body instantly freezes at Billy’s words. In the midst of all the chaos that involved finding out that two of your friends were active serial killers, both of them have been wanting to fuck you, and both of them actually proceeding to fuck you, you were ashamed to admit that you completely forgot about your the rest of your friends downstairs. Sidney and Tatum, two of your closest friends, were partying just below you and were blissfully unaware that you were in fact not resting from the partying, but instead getting your hole absolutely destroyed by their boyfriends just a couple hundred feet away.

The reality of your situation comes back to you and the dread starts to sink in. Instinctively, you begin thrashing your body all around, causing as much commotion as you can. Your nails end up scratching Stu on his arm. “Ow!” he whines out, but it’s a cross between a whimper and a turned on moan. He bites your neck in retaliation. “I like ‘em feisty, you know. Really gets my dick goin’.”

Billy, on the other hand, doesn’t take your failed act of defiance so lightly. His hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks as he pulls your face close to him, not letting up with the pistoning of his hips.

“Not. A. Word.” Every syllable is spoken individually, heavily gritted out through clenched teeth. At that moment, an array of muffled voices is heard right outside the bedroom door. Billy and you turn to the source of the noise at the same time. Billy turns back to you first. “You know what happens if they walk in,” he trails off darkly, and out of the corner of your eye you can see the glint of his knife as it rests on the side table, within an arm's reach from him. If he wanted to, he could easily slip himself out of you and kill the unsuspecting partygoers within mere seconds.

He buries himself back inside of you as you say that, the two of their cocks fighting for their spots inside of your restrictive walls. Billy and Stu moan in unison at the feeling, both of you gripping onto them and the way they feel pressed up against each other.

As hopeless as your situation may seem in the end, you try to make due with what you have and not let the guilt consume you. There’s nothing you can do about it now unless you want multiple people to wind up dead. It’s fairly easy to erase your mind of anything other than the two guys currently surrounding you, whose relentless thrusts make your vision go white and limbs go numb.

Stu attaches himself onto your neck, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys that’ll last for days. You lean your head back into him, giving him more access to the area. His long tongue licks all around the area, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth eventually makes its way up to your own and Stu covers it, kissing you with great fervor. His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling it around with your own tongue. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, but it feels perfectly like him. It’s intimate as he massages your tongue and brings his hand up to cup your jaw. In that single moment, you can pretend like your new revelation didn’t exist and that this is just a sensual moment between you and your friend, who’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

But that’s not the case, as Billy brings you back to reality once again. He spanks your ass which has you gasping into Stu’s mouth and your eyes opening wide.

Spit dribbles out the side of your mouth as Stu finally lets up, moaning into your jaw. He gives your neck a big kiss before sucking another hickey into it. “I can be romantic sometimes,” he whispers teasingly into your ear, causing you to shiver.

Billy and Stu pound into you, even harder than before if possible, their hips snapping up against your body.

You know that your orgasm is fast approaching, the various simulations making you feel desperate for a release.

“Please, please, please, please,” your voice is hoarse as you whisper out in a breathy tone to keep as quiet as possible.

“Yeah? You want our cum inside of you?” Billy coaxes you, but you can tell that he’s just as close to reaching his peak as you are given the uneven rhythm of his ruts, pushing slightly against the pattern he had set with Stu.

You nod your head as much as you can, your vision going blurry with the speed you move it. You can feel Billy’s cock throb furiously in you and it's enough to make you reach your own orgasm before him, clapping a hand over your mouth as to not alert your presence to anyone outside.

Billy’s orgasm follows your own soon after, with a strangled moan leaving his lips as his hot cum releases all inside you. The mix of your two juices allows for easier movement within your walls, and after he’s done climaxing Billy slides out of you with ease.

But Stu is nowhere near stopping.

With the result of your’s and Billy’s releases aiding him, Stu ruts himself even further into you. He manhandles you so that instead of your previous position of being twisted in the air as Stu stands behind you, he throws you down on top of the bed and climbs on top of you, humping into you from behind with a newfound vigor.

“Finally get you to myself for a bit,” Stu grits out of his teeth as his hips piston at an immeasurable speed.

You can’t speak at this point, completely cockdrunk from the brunt of the thrusts you’re taking. Stu’s broad body completely engulfs your form as he pounds you into the bedsheets. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, only low whimpers and droll being produced from it.

You can hear the squelching of your pussy, the result of Billy’s cum and your juices, as Stu pounds his cock as far as it reaches. You can feel the release escape the sides of your pussy lips with the brunt of Stu’s thrusts and you can’t help but whine softly as some of the warmth and fullness from the cum leaves your body.

Stu’s hand runs through your hair until he grabs it at the base. He pushes your head down completely into the bed, using much more pressure than what was needed. The force of it causes your ass to arch further into him as he presses his front fully against your back, curving his form as if morphing to the shape of your hunched and fucked out form.

“Now that’s a nice view,” he groans out, one hand at the root of your hair and the other pawing at your ass.

Animalistic grunts leave Stu’s mouth and you can feel as he reaches the cusp of his orgasm. Curses leave his lips as he finally cums, pushing himself inside you as deep as he can and hitting parts never reached before. You can feel the jets of his hot release inside of you as it comes out in huge, thick spurts.

When Stu finally leaves your walls, the mix of all three of your orgasms comes flowing out, making you moan at the loss of the fullness from all three of you.

“C’mon now, push it all outta you,” Billy’s voice calls out from across the room, speaking up from his previous silent observer role as he recovered from his own peak.

You obey, squeezing as much as you can with your weak body. You can feel globs of cum escape your entrance, cooling as it runs down your thighs and onto the sheets below you.

You flinch as you feel Stu’s fingers scoop some out of you, and the smacking of his lips indicates he tasted it. You moan, only able to picture what the scene looks like.

“Oh? You want some?” Stu’s fingers hastily appear in front of you. The fingers from his other hand pull your mouth open and he shoves the cum covered ones inside, making you gag instantly. He rams them in and out of your mouth, barely giving you any time to properly suck on the cum. Flecks of the fluid fly out of your mouth along with your own saliva. Tears fall without a warning, your gag reflex working overtime.

Stu’s fingers fuck your mouth until all of the cum is virtually gone from them. When he finally pulls them out, your body completely collapses. It trembles furiously from all the overstimulation, unable to hold itself up.

Stu gives you a big wet kiss on your cheek and slaps his now-limp cock onto your bare ass. You can only whimper in response, your body too heavy to move any part of it right now. Your vision is blurry, but through it you manage to make out Billy, with his sweaty complexion and rumpled clothes back on his body, talking down to you.

“You stay put until we can get everyone to piss off. We’ll be back for round two.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghostface #ghostface x reader #billy x reader x stu #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream x reader #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #ghostface smut #scream smut #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers smut

14K notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 11 months ago

Text

I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee.

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile.

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss.

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh.

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved.

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again.

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.”

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.”

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that.

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly.

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong.

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants.

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face.

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly.

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in.

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—”

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true.

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his.

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay.

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss.

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room.

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?”

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head.

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down.

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile.

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues.

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass.

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala.

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell.

He’s unfairly handsome.

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze.

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him.

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters.

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say.

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says.

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached.

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway.

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok.

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them.

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point.

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison.

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind.

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds.

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around.

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father.

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk.

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out.

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says.

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly.

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day.

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day.

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks.

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so.

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you.

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily.

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised.

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs.

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?”

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in.

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed.

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first.

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected.

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make.

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed.

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings.

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done.

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough.

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough.

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon.

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day.

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting.

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t.

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting.

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you.

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs.

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same.

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge.

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files.

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents.

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that.

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door.

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger.

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.”

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours.

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything.

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you?

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation.

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do.

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty.

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more.

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you.

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?”

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies.

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle.

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites.

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment.

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction.

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing.

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it.

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career.

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm.

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this.

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder.

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today.

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision.

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you.

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly.

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede.

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply.

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know? But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs.

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks.

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans.

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans.

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says.

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now.

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @gukssunshine @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink @jvngkooker

Series Taglist: @xhazmania @ash07128 @rinkud @junniesoleilkth @junecat18 @peachytokki @baechugff @coralmusicblaze @jalexad

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook series #boss jungkook #boss au #workmates au

3K notes · View notes

targaryen-dynasty · 6 months ago

Text

FORBIDDEN TEMPTATION.

Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle married niece), menstrual sex, p in v, fingering, lactation kink

WORDS: 2.1 K

NOTES: Thank you to @lady-phasma and the rest of our little group for this period smut collaboration 😝 and extra thanks to @zaldritzosrose for the moodboard!! I love you guys sm 💕 It was so much fun working with this request. Cheers to the dragon friends🤍

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

A poking ache in your stomach is what pulls you out of your sleep, like a sharp, stinging tug that makes you curl into a bundle, clutching your belly. With your husband still sound asleep right next to you, his snores filling the room, you’re determined to not moan out in pain too loudly, though you’re close to failing.

“By the Seven,” you whisper, a clear strain to your voice, and when you bring your hand down between your legs, the stickiness you're welcomed with makes you sigh. There’s hardly any light of the moon falling into the room, which makes it difficult for you to make out the source of the wetness that coats your fingers, yet the smell lets you know it’s familiar. Your moonblood.

“Oh, this can not…” you trail off, moaning through gritted teeth as another jolt of pain runs through your belly.

Next to you, your husband has been roused from sleep by your stirring and moaning, blinking against the darkness and blearily into the night as he tries to understand what is going on. Propping himself up on one elbow, his groggy voice is laced with worry as he speaks, “what is the matter?”

You shift to lie on your back again, leaning up against the headboard. “I… my moonblood has come,” you say. The realization that it’s just your monthly bleeding does bring you some sense of relief, meaning your husband has not yet managed to put another child in you, but it also concerns you. “It feels like someone is clawing at my belly from the inside out… and I can not remember for it to be so painful before the pregnancy.”

It’s an instinct he’s developed over the course of your pregnancy, something you still catch him doing every now and then, but Aemond‘s hand immediately goes to your belly, rubbing small, soothing circles to somewhat ease the pain. And for someone possessing the blood of the dragon, his body certainly emanates a lot of heat. You’re immediately drawn towards him, melting against his frame, warmth radiating off of his bare chest.

Aemond brings his lips to the crown of your head, wrapping his arms around you. “That was to be expected, was it not?” he asks.

“Yes, but it is quite severe.” You flinch again at the stinging pain, though it is not as sharp with his warm hand splayed over your stomach. “Could you fetch me the maester to ease the pain?”

Your husband’s mind, however, quickly comes up with a different solution. “Well, I have heard and read that there’s another way to ease that kind of pain, my love,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “A more… pleasurable alternative that may not completely rid you of the pain, but certainly takes your mind off of it.”

His words and the innuendo don’t surprise you at all. Ever since he truly has learned what it meant to indulge in the pleasures of flesh with you, he’s turned into a starved beast, desperate to get his fill of you every night until your little Baelon was born, and determined to get you round with his seed as quickly as possible again. The few weeks of rest that had been prescribed by the maester were the most difficult for him, struggling to keep his hands off of you. It was the complete opposite to the way he was while you grew up together; your usually quiet and observing uncle turned into a beast, similar to the one he claimed when he turned ten.

Aemond’s hand slowly drifts lower, and a small gasp escapes your lips, his fingers dancing lightly over the damp linen of your smallclothes. You look at him, your eyes half-lidded with a mix of pain and desire. “Do you really think… it would help?” you murmur softly, instinctively arching into his touch. The throbbing ache in your belly is temporarily replaced by a pleasant warmth spreading through your core.

“Oh, I very much believe it will,” he whispers in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

A sly smile is on his lips as his thumb brushes over your pearl, making your breath hitch in your throat. Your head tips back into the pillows with a moan slipping past your lips. “Aemond…” you whisper, his name coming out in a mere breath, “please.”

He is quick to bow his head forward, capturing your lips for a kiss. As he tugs on your smallclothes, you wrap your arms around his neck for support, using the leverage to shimmy out of the damp linen.

You gasp against his lips as his nimble digits ease into your cunt, and Aemond presses his forehead against yours. Feeling you writhe beneath his touch, he lets out a low groan, a small shiver running down his spine at the wanton sight of his wife on the cusp of pleasure. “Relax, my love,” he rasps. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers continue their ministrations, his touch gentle yet insistent, never slowing down, and your hips buck into his touch. There’s no denying your desire for him, your need for him. And while he focuses on easing your pain, your focus solely lies on him – or rather his cock. It’s always the same, for his fingers are never enough for you.

Aemond has pushed his sleeping trousers down to the point he was able to free his cock, thick, hard, and the tip glistening with a few beds of his arousal, indicating just how badly he wants to take care of you. Feeling his knuckles brush your thigh as his fist slides up and down his length, you whimper in anticipation while a strained grunt leaves his lips.

Without another word, Aemond positions himself between your legs, the motion fluid and practiced. His hands glide over the smooth skin of your thighs, pushing them further apart to accommodate him.

There is some impatience evident in his movements as he drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, causing you to gasp each time it presses against your sensitive pearl.

“Stop teasing me, Aemond,” you whine, your nerves on fire.

His lips curve into a smug smirk at your desperate whine. “What’s the rush, my love?”

Tilting his head forwards, he watches as he circles your entrance with his cock, repeatedly pushing just the tip inside… only to pull out mere moments later. While it drives you insane with lust, it also makes you aware of how slick you are for him – knowing it’s not just your arousal he’s coated in now.

That realization makes you feel shy, and you momentarily try to squeeze your thighs together to escape his hungry gaze – but to no avail. Tsking, Aemond is quick to pry your thighs apart again, raising a brow. “Do not shy away now,” he warns. “A little blood does not repel me.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod meekly at his words, and your husband takes that as his cue to continue. Where he usually sheathes him inside you in one, swift thrust, he’s slow and careful to enter you now, making sure you feel every vein and ridge of him on his way inside. You both moan in unison, never getting enough of each other.

Despite you being quite tense from the sharp pain tugging at your belly, Aemond buries himself inside of you with ease, your moonsblood adding to your slickness. It feels different than usual – you feel different than usual, more sensitive – yet the pleasure it brings is heightened and coaxes you to melt around him.

Your head tips back into the pillows, but Aemond is quick to bring a hand to the side of your neck, applying a bit of pressure to your chin with his thumb to force you to meet his gaze. There is a slight stutter in his hips as he sets up his slow pace, settling only once he’s found the perfect rhythm. With expert precision, he rolls his hips against yours. Your heels dig into his rear, encouraging him to go even deeper.

The dull, continuous ache in your belly grows weaker with every thrust, replaced by a warmth that spreads all the way to your limbs, fueled by the squelching sounds of his cock repeatedly disappearing into your soaked cunt.

Aemond has one hand on your neck and the other positioned on the mattress right next to your head, careful not to put all of his weight on your sensitive body. You take it upon yourself to tug on the low neckline of your nightgown, pulling it even lower to free your heavy breasts from their confines.

Your body is still providing enough milk to feed an army of children, despite you merely birthing one, and while they are heavy and hard to the touch, wearing clothes has always been a far worse agony. The creamish silk has been damp even before Aemond has touched you, and so it’s no surprise droplets of milk trickle from your darkened buds as soon as your fingers touch them.

And that is the moment he stops being careful, bowing down to capture one bud with his lips and press his body against yours. It’s a mix between a gasp and moan that slips past your lips, yet it’s enough to make clear the relief you feel.

The position all but forces him to roll his hips against yours languidly, but neither of you mind for it seems to bring you both enough pleasure. You can feel him suckle on your breast in the rhythm your cunt clenches around his cock. His cheeks dimpled from the suction; he’s propped up on one elbow, using his hand to pinch and roll the other bud between his fingers.

He alternates between licking and sucking, not keen on wasting just one drop of your precious milk. “Gods, Aemond,” you whine, arching your back against him. You feel him throb inside of you at the despair audible in your voice, spurring him on.

Your hips move on their own accord now, grinding against his and matching his movements, the pain in your belly and breasts long forgotten as you chase your pleasure.

A couple of moments pass until you feel Aemond’s breath growing labored, his chest almost heaving with more and more muffled grunts and groans escaping his throat. He is loud – much to your surprise – but your body seems keen at that, the pressure inside of your belly tightening at a rapid pace.

As his lips wrap around your other bud, the knot in your belly snaps. It’s either gripping the sheets or his hair to keep yourself grounded, and you opt for the latter, burying your hands inside of his silver strands. You use the grip to pull him closer to your breasts, more out of instinct than of clear will.

The sheets below you are soaked with a blend of your arousal and moonblood, trickling out of your cunt and coating Aemond’s cock and the sac of his stones. It’s the tightness of your peak’s contractions that eventually forces the seed from your husband, milking him for every last drop of his spent. His muscles go rigid, yet he hardly withdraws from your bud to release grunts and groans, too drunk on what’s supposed to be for your son.

He bites down as he spills inside of you, harder than you like considering your whole body is a sensitive mess at this point, but you do not begrudge him – it’s well deserved with how caring and careful he’s been to tend to your needs.

He buries his face between your now soft and tender breasts as you leisurely ride out your peaks, both your movements slowly, but surely, coming to a stop. You tug on his hair, and the sight of his half-lidded eye and his swollen lips makes you clench around him once more.

While Aemond swallows a groan, you urge his face towards yours for a kiss, moaning at the taste of your milk on his tongue. Labored breaths fan across each other’s faces as his mouth leaves yours, and you take a moment to stare at each other silently.

“Is the pain… has it eased?” Aemond’s voice is a hoarse whisper. Panting softly, he sits back on his haunches.

A small, bashful smile curves your lips, the haze of desire beginning to lift. Your body still thrums with the aftereffects of his endeavors. “I am quite alright,” you reply. “But perhaps we should indulge in a bath. I do believe a soak in hot water may alleviate my discomfort even more, and it seems we have both made quite the mess.”

You notice the mischievous gleam in his good eye. “If that is what my love desires, then consider it done. I shall have hot water brought to our chambers, and then I shall ensure that every bit of your discomfort is soothed.”

1K notes · View notes

gor3sigil · 3 months ago

Text

I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

837 notes · View notes

scarlethexelove · 9 months ago

Text

Our Omega

Pairing: Alpha!WandaNat x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 5155

Warnings: Smut, Wanda and Nat have a penis, Soft!Nat, Rough!Wanda, Heat, Mating mark, Knotting, Breeding, Someone tries to attack reader but Wanda and Nat stop them, Hints to lactation kink, I really don't think there is much else.

Pt 2

A/n: I really hope this isn't shit. I really liked writing this. Wanda isn't too rough in this one but definitely rougher than Nat. Just sweet alphas who don't treat their sweet Omega like shit.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The door chimes causing your gaze to lift to the opening door. You’re shocked to see the people walking through the door. The Avengers have just walked through the door of your small bakery. Leading the group is the pack leader along with her mate. Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, two alpha’s. The rest of the mostly alpha pack followed close behind. Normally so many alpha’s in an area won’t bother you but with you so close to your heat and being an unmated omega is making it difficult with all of them around. You put on a mask knowing you need to be your best when the most famous people in the world are in your bakery.

With a wide smile you greet the group. “Hi, I’m Y/n. We have a wide array of baked goods for you to choose from. Just let me know what you would like and I’ll get them all ready for you.” Wanda tilts her head looking at you curiously but you just give her soft smile back. Nat is also watching you but you can’t seem to read her. The gaze of both the alpha’s on you causes a light dusting of pink to cover your cheeks. The rest of the group looked around to see what they wanted to eat.

Nat clears her throat. “Everyone wait outside.” She demands the rest. “But I want to look.” Tony whines. Nat turns to look at the rest. “I said wait outside. We will get everyone something.” Nat’s demanding tone has your inner omega wanting to submit causing you to shrink in on yourself. As the rest go to wait outside the two alpha’s turn back to you noticing you’re dropped head and smaller form. “I’m so sorry mega. I thought it would be easier without everyone.”

You wanted to be thankful for what she did but at the same time you need to be able to handle a room full of alpha’s if you want to have a successful business. But you know she just meant well by her actions. You lift your head and give her a small smile. Brushing off your previous distress and ready to help the two women with everything they need.

With less alpha’s in the room their scents invade your senses. One of their scents laced with cinnamon and spices, reminding you of fall. The other smelling of sweet vanilla. Both of their scents are intoxicating already. Both women are very attractive but you know you can’t think like that they are already a mated pair and they probably wouldn’t want an omega like you. So you push it out of your mind and focus on running your business.

“What can I get for you?” You ask the women. They look around for a minute before Nat speaks up. “Two of everything.” You can’t help the look of shock at the woman's order. “A-are you sure?” She gives you a kind smile. “Yes please.” You nod and start moving around to get everything you need. “Of course. I’ll have everything ready for you in a few minutes.” You move around the area gracefully. Throwing in a few extras as you go. Wanting nothing more than to satisfy the Avengers.

You can feel their eyes following you but you are in your groove currently. Once you are done with everything they come up to the counter and Natasha pulls out her wallet. You wave your hands and shake your head. “No, no, no. It’s on the house, my treat. You guys do so much for the city. The least I can do is give you guys some food.” Nat shakes her head back at you. “I’m not sure your boss would like that. Also I insist.” She starts pulling out money ready to pay. “I’m actually the owner so I can give you whatever I want.” You tell the alpha. You would normally never talk back to an alpha, especially an Avenger but you want to get your point across. But neither of them are going to take no for an answer. Wanda takes some money out of Nat’s hands and gives it to you. You look down at the cash and back up at the alpha’s. You can tell by the looks on their faces that they will not take no for an answer. So you look back down at the cash in your hand and gasps. “This is way too much.” In your hand is almost $500 dollars, way more than what it cost to get everything.

Both alpha’s shake their heads. “Keep it. You deserve it.” Wanda says. She has the softest and kindest smile you have ever seen. “I-I-I don’t think I can take this.” You stutter trying to hand some of the money back but neither of them will have it. Wanda takes your hands in hers. “Please take it.” You look at her hands around yours and then back up to her face. A small blush covering your face when you nod. “Okay.” You say barely above a whisper. She smiles before she and Nat take the baked goods, making their way out leaving you shocked.

That is how your friendship with the Avengers started. After that day you saw at least one of them once a week. Sometimes alone and sometimes the whole team would come in. You built a friendship with each member but as they continue to come a crush on the two women formed. They were always so sweet and kind with you. Nat plays up a big persona of being hard and little emotion but you can see right through that facade. Which only makes your crush grow stronger, but you know you can’t act on it. So you leave it at that just a crush.

With the Avengers frequenting your bakery your business picks up exponentially. You had to hire more employees to help you keep up. One of those being your best friend Kate Bishop. You thank the Avengers for their business and the fact they have brought in more customers for you. Always trying to give them free food but none of them ever take it.

Today wasn’t like other days. You had 3 call offs and your heat was quickly approaching. You thought that you had a few more days but as the day drags on you know you won’t make it. You have already called Kate who had the day off hoping she could cover. She of course said she would but it would take her some time to get there. So now you’re fighting your heat and just waiting for her to get here.

The room is filled with alpha's, some of them pausing to look at you. A hungry look in their eyes as they realize what is going on with you. You want to run and hide but you can’t leave the store unattended so you suck it up the best you can. That is until a wave of burning stabbing pain hits your lower abdomen. You wrap your arms around your stomach, hunching over as you hold in a whimper. You don’t even hear the ringing of the bell as another patron enters the building. Another stronger wave has you crumbling to the ground, a whimper escaping your lips.

You can now faintly hear a commotion but you can’t focus on the words or voices. You look up seeing an alpha about to jump over the counter when they are pulled back harshly. There is a commanding roar of an alpha that causes you to whine and bare your neck waiting for the alpha to approach. You wish your inner omega was stronger but with your heat here you can’t control it. Two alpha’s approach you quickly crouching down next to you. You let out another whine and strain your neck more.

“Oh milaya, none of that.” Wanda’s hand cups your cheek. Both of their scents invade your senses, calming you down slightly. You can’t help but nuzzle her hand causing her and the other woman to smile at you. A whimper escapes as another wave of pain courses through you. Leaving the women concerned for you. They have been falling for you just as much as you for them but they were worried you wouldn’t like them back or want to be involved with Avengers.

Just then Kate rushes in the door, her eyes scanning the room seeing that there had been a scuffle. Concerned for your safety when she can’t see you. She knows your heat is close, that is until she catches a whiff of your scent. She knows that you have gone into heat and how dangerous it is for you to have been here. She rushes around the counter stopping when she sees you curled in on yourself as Nat and Wanda crouch next to you. Wanda’s hand is still on your cheek. She lets out a growl at the woman. She knows that you aren’t in any danger with them but she instinctively wants to protect you while you’re so vulnerable. Neither of them move their concern only on you.

“Kate, we are here to help. We don’t want to hurt her.” Nat speaks calmly to the other omega. Kate looks from them back to you. She can see you, how you're trying to nuzzle in further to Wanda. She lets out a sigh. “Sorry alpha.” She puts her head down. Becoming part of the Avengers pack as Yelena’s omega has gotten her close to them and she didn’t want to disrespect the pack leader. “It’s ok. I know you are only trying to protect your friend.” Nat moves closer to you leaning down and moving to pick you up. She acts slowly to give you the chance to pull away but you don’t. It makes the woman smile as she picks you up. You quickly wrap yourself tightly around her and nuzzle into her scent gland. Breathing in her cinnamon scent that calms you.

“I think we will take her to the compound, she will be safe there. I don’t trust that after those alphas coming after her that she will be safe. They could easily follow her home.” Nat speaks to both Wanda and Kate. They both nod in agreement. “Kate, do you have this here?” Nat asks as she holds you closer to her. “Yeah I think I got this.” Kate replies before the door chimes. All three women go on defense growling at the scent of another alpha but all calm when they realize who it is. Kate’s mate Yelena struts through the door holding up her hands in surrender to the three as you whimper in Nat’s arms.

Yelena smirks at the older alpha when she sees you in her arms, wrapped tightly around the woman like a koala. Nat rolls her eyes when she sees how her sister is looking at her. “Lena!” Kate says bouncing over to her and throwing her arms around her neck pecking her lips. Yelena’s hands placed firmly on Kate’s hips. “Yel help Kate out here we are taking Y/n to the compound. Some alphas attacked so maybe help her clean up a bit.” Yelena looks around at the mess brows furrowed as Nat speaks. That is until she catches your sweet scent. Instantly understanding your predicament and understanding why the three were growling at her as she came in the door.

“Please be careful you two.” Wanda tells the alpha and her omega, handing Kate some money. Kate looks at the money and then back up to Wanda confused. “For damages.” Wanda explains. Kate is about to argue back about that but the look Wanda gives her tells her there is no room for that. She is second in command of the pack and will not take no for an answer. So Kate gives her a nod moving to start cleaning up the place, Yelena helping her mate clean as the two women leave with you.

Once the alphas get you to the compound they take you to the spare bedroom next to theirs not wanting to overstep any boundaries you might have. It has been hard for them to fight their inner alphas to not to just claim you as theirs. You’re currently wrapped around Wanda tightly as she walks into the room. She goes to put you on the bed but you don’t let go. “Malyshka can you let go?” She asks softly, but your only response is to shake your head and whine. Being in their arms is the most comfort you have had in a long time dulling the ache.

So the women decide to take you into their own room. If it provides you the comfort you need they will take the suffering to make you feel even the slightest bit better. Wanda sits down on the bed with you still wrapped around her. Your head in her neck as you let her scent drown out your senses. Nat walked away from the two of you for a few minutes before coming back. In her arms is a plethora of blankets. She sets them on the bed next to Wanda. “Detka?” She crouches down in front of you two and says softly. “Can you please come out? I brought you blankets for a nest.” Her voice is still soft, watching you for any movement.

Slowly you pull your head out, eyes landing on the pile. You hesitantly move not wanting to leave the comfort of the alpha but your inner omega is telling you to build your nest. “Thank you Nat.” You whisper, taking the blankets and moving to a corner of the room. It has been a losing battle to fight your inner omega who just craves the women. But you don’t want to overstep too much so you build your nest in the corner. You crawl into it moving things around till you’re comfortable.

Being around the alphas has dulled your pain. It is still there but in less intense waves, but the slick has increased. You can now feel it coating your thighs. The two have watched you intently, hard uncomfortable bulges in their pants. Wanting nothing more than to claim you as their own. It isn’t until your small voice breaks the silence in the room that they break from the trance. “Alphas?” You whimper. The women quickly move over to you concerned that something could be wrong. You look up to them with tears in your eyes, scared to ask anything more of them but craving their comfort.

Wanda’s hand gently cups your face, her thumb rubbing over your cheek gently. “Yes, omega. Do you need anything?” Wanda’s softness makes you purr as you nuzzle. “Please stay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but they hear you. The women share a look before they agree. Nat gets in front of you which you instantly cuddle into her side, your head instinctively nuzzling into her neck. Wanda slots herself behind you. Both of them cuddle you tightly.

Nat notices it instantly, your warm slick slowly coating her thigh. You start grinding against her thigh. Your brain is not even registering it until you let out a soft moan. A look of panic crossing your face when you realize what you are doing. “I-I-I’m sorry.” You try to pull away but their arms wrapping around you tightly keeps you in place. “What do you need mega?” Wanda kisses your shoulder and mumbles. You let out another whine at her words wanting to beg them to use you, breed you, mark you, to become their mate. “We can’t help you if you don’t tell us, sweet girl.” Nat kisses your forehead letting her lips linger there.

You look up to the woman in front of you. “I want you, both of you.” You whisper. They are both slightly shocked but not entirely due to your recent actions. Nat’s hand cups your cheek. “Are you sure? This isn’t just your heat?” You shake your head no at her words. “Wanted you for a while. Didn’t think you wanted me. I’m nothing special.” You look down out of embarrassment waiting for the rejection, but it doesn’t come. Nat’s finger hooks under your chin, making you look back up at her. She gently kisses your lips before pulling back your breaths mingling together in the open space. “We want you too, and you are special. You are the most kind and gentle person we have ever met.”

It’s so quick that you don’t even notice. Wanda’s arms are removed from you and Nat has pushed you on your back hovering over you. “If you want us to stop or you change your mind you can tell us.” Nat tells you gently pecking your lips. “Are you sure you want this mega?” Wanda asks you. You nod your head. “We need words pretty girl.” You look at Wanda who is laying on her side with her head propped on her hand. “Want you.” Was the only words that slipped past your lips. In an instant with red whisps all of your clothes are gone. You look at Wanda a bit shocked, a smirk playing on her lips.

Soon the alphas' clothes soon follow. Their rock hard cocks springing free of their confines. You feel Nat’s slap against your stomach causing you to look down. Your eyes widen at her sheer size wondering how she will fit. Your eyes then trail to Wanda. She looks even bigger than Nat, not by much but a noticeable difference. You can feel more of your slick coating your thighs as you whine.

Nat kisses your head as her hand guides her cock to your folds. Swiping through them coating herself in your arousal, her tip nudging against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a moan as she keeps nudging. When she is satisfied, she moves the tip down to your entrance, looking at you for your confirmation that you're still ok. When you give her a nod, she slowly starts to push in. Slowly sinking her cock into your wet and warm cunt.

“Fuck so tight.” Nat moans as your walls clamp around her member. You’re so thankful for your heat, your slick allowing her to slip in easily. You wrap your legs around her waist as she sinks in further. When her thighs meet your ass you gasp at the fullness. You’ve never felt this full in your life and it feels so right.

Nat gives you some time to adjust to the stretch fighting her inner alpha to just pound into you mercilessly. Wanda turns your head leaning in to kiss you. Her hands reach between your bodies as she finds your breasts. Her fingers expertly tweaking your nipples causing you to moan in her mouth distracting you from the fact that Nat has pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. Her pace is slow at first just getting used to you. You feel so good and she doesn’t want to cum too early.

When Nat feels like she can, her pace quickens. She fucks into you gently, her thrust deep as she angle just right. Hitting your spot deep inside. Wanda’s mouth is still on yours as she swallows all of your moans. Enjoying your full breast in her hands, groping at pinching her nipples as her mate fucks into you.

You don’t expect the alpha to be so gentle as she fucks you but it feels so good from her. Her caring and soft side showed through with every thrust of her hips. She leans up grabbing your hips watching as her cock disappears into your hole. Entranced by your sweet scent and how you take her so well. How your hips buck into her to meet her thrust trying to get her that much deeper. The outline of her cock bulging from your skin, she presses down and a loud moan is escaping you. She looks back up to watch as Wanda devours you, catching every whimper and moan until you can’t keep up anymore.

“So pretty and made for us. Taking me so well.” Nat praises you. “So perfectly wrapped around my cock squeezing me so tight. Fuck.” She moans when you clench. Your panting, eyes closed as your orgasm builds. One of Wanda’s hands drifting down between both of your bodies finding your bundle of nerves pinching it between her fingers. You cry out in pleasure and pain as she continues. Both women bring you so close to the edge. Your walls squeezing Nat tight, her grunts and moans filling your ears. Her knot starts to form hitting against your entrance, just begging to fill you.

Wanda’s hand continues toying with your clit as Nat drives her hips into you. Your legs are slightly shaking around Nat’s hips. She leans back down the more her knot swells. You're both close to cumming. She kisses your scent gland sending small waves of pleasure. Her hips become more erratic when her knot fully forms. Slamming against your entrance. With a few more thrust her knot pops in and her teeth sink into your neck. You cry out in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you. She marks you claiming you as her omega. Filling you with her cum as your back arches. Grinding into you as white hot ropes of cum fill you. Your cum coating her cock as your walls squeeze her knot, milking her dry. She lets your neck go and licks your wound clean. You look up at her curious and hopeful eyes. She smiles and leans her head giving you access to the opposite side from where Wanda bit. You lean up sinking your teeth in her scent gland. She moans out and you don’t know how it is possible but you can feel a few more spurts of cum filling you. Which just causes you to moan around her bite. You release her and lick it clean just as she had done for you.

You’re both panting, Nat’s knot locking you together until it deflates. Wanda’s hands move away giving you two a chance to bond. Nat takes the time to gently move you both so that you are on your side. You feel the bond growing strong as you bask in the aftermath. She gently kisses your lips before leaning her forehead against yours. The room is silent until you break it. “Thank you.” You whisper between you two. Nat smiles. “No need to thank me detka. I have been wanting to do that for a long time.” The three of you laugh. It’s funny how you all wanted each other but none of you thought the other would. “Me too.” You smile, your breath still heavy between you two.

When Nat’s knot finally deflates she removes herself from you. You let out a whimper at the lost feeling empty as your mixed cum leaks out of you. Wanda kisses your shoulder and mumbles against the naked skin. “My turn malyshka. I want you to ride me.” You look back at her, your eyes wide. “I-I’ve never.” You stutter a little having never ridden anyone before. She kisses your shoulder again. “That’s ok detka. You’re going to look so beautiful bouncing on my cock.”

You feel Wanda shift as she lays on her back. You turn yourself to look at her. She has her hands behind her head and her cock standing proud. You don’t know how she was so patient when you look at her cock. Her tip is angry red and pre-cum has leaked all down her shaft. Her hand moves to wrap around and gently jerk herself. She had wanted to save all of her cum for you to fill you even fuller than you already were. You hesitate for a moment before getting up and shifting. Throwing your leg over her hips hovering over her cock. Her hand is firmly around her cock lining it up with your entrance. You look at her for a second when she gives you a reassuring smile. You give her a small smile before you start to slowly sink down on her.

Wanda moves her hand back behind her head as she watches you sink down. “Fuck your right Natty. So fucking tight. Fuck even after you fucked her she is tight.” You blush at her words, finally sitting fully in her lap. You didn’t think you could feel this full. Both of them fit you so perfectly like they were made just for you.

You grind your hips experimentally, the movement causing you and Wanda to moan. You can see the cocky smirk on her face as she waits for you to fuck yourself on her cock. “Fuck I can feel both of your cums leaking all over my cock.” She bucks her hips up, enticing you to move. You groan, taking her hint as you lift yourself up before slamming yourself down. You set a slow and steady pace as you figure out your moments. Bringing yourself up before dropping back down. Wanda enjoys the sight of your breast bouncing every time you sink back down.

But your pace is a bit slow for the woman. “Ride me like you mean it detka. I want to see you fuck yourself on my cock.” You whimper, nodding your head and picking up the pace. Bouncing on her cock and grinding your hips when you meet her pelvis. The sight in front of her is perfect as the perfect omega rides her. Even at this angle Wanda can see a perfect outline of her cock filling your tight hole. Moaning knowing that you're so full of her and that she is going to fill you even more.

Whimpers and moans fill the room as you continue to fuck yourself on her cock. Soon you feel hands on your waist as Nat moves closer to you two she helps guid you quicker on fucking her mate. Wanda’s hands moving to your plush thighs digging her fingers into the soft flesh. Starting to buck her hips up to meet you. Fucking you harder than Nat did.

“Such a whore for us already. Taking our fat cocks in your tight little hole. Look at that.” Wanda presses her hand down hard on the bulge that appears on your lower abdomen. You cry out from the pleasure and her words, looking down to see her cock moving inside of you. Your walls clench her tightly at the sights. “Oh fuck you like that don’t you little whore. Love being fucked by your alpha’s.” Wanda’s moans, her words a stark contrast to Nat’s praises. She is rougher with her thrusts. Showing a different side to each woman.

Nat turns your head towards her and kisses you hungrily. Wanda sits up planting her feet and thrusting up hard and rough. You love the difference between the two. A gentle Nat and a rougher Wanda. It turns you on immensely more slick coating Wanda’s cock the harder she drives her hips up into you. Nat still helping you fuck yourself down on her cock.

“Such a perfect cock drunk whore for us. So pretty being our little cum dump, just for us to use.” With every word that Wanda speaks it sends you closer to the edge, your walls clamping down on her. You don’t know how she can keep her rough pace as your walls suffocate her cock. She moans as your walls tighten, her knot forming and pressing against your entrance begging to slip in. Wanda nibbles at your perky nipples. “Want to be bred full of our cum? Fill you with our pups?” You moan into Nat’s mouth mumbling a yes.

“These tits would look so perfect, full of milk, your belly swollen with our pups.” She bites down on your nipple causing you to break the kiss from nat and cry out. “Mmm.” You whimper, her thrust becoming erratic as your knot fully forms. Nat lets your waist go and Wanda wraps her arms around you thrusting up harder and faster. You didn’t think she could go any harder or faster but it has you moaning louder. Your arms tightly wrapped around her as your nails dig into her back causing her to moan at the sting.

Wanda moves her head to the other side of your neck biting into your other scent gland as her knot slips inside locking you two together. You scream out and throw your head back as your vision blurs, cumming harder than you ever have before. Wanda’s cum joins Nat’s deep inside you filling the void and feeding the desires of your inner omega. Your whole body trembles in her hold as your bond forms. She pulls away, licking your wound. She lets you take the side opposite of Nat’s mark cementing your bond to both women. Small spurts of cum still fill you as Wanda grinds helping you both to ride out your highs.

When you come down your rigid body slumps into Wanda nuzzling into her neck. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, kissing the side of your head. Her fingers gently rubbing at your back. Your arms loosely wrapped around her exhaustion taking over as you close your eyes.

“Are you ok sweet girl?” Wanda questions kissing your head again. You hum in response, throat raw from your previous actions. “I wasn’t too rough was I?” You could hear the concern in her voice. So you pull back a soft smile playing on your lips. “No, it was perfect. Both of you.” Your voice is hoarse. You look back at Nat who pecks your lips. You would think that Nat would be jealous of how your body reacted to Wanda but all you can see is the love in her eyes. The stark contrast between the two is something you already love. How gentle Nat praising you as she fucked into you and how Wanda was rougher degrading you.

When Wanda’s knot deflates they both help you up on wobbly legs taking you to a warm bath and cleaning you up. Your heat subsiding for the moment, a relief you thought you would never have. You’re all now cuddled up in your nest, your head on Nat’s chest, Wanda’s arms wrapped around your waist. Your eyes droop shut as exhaustion from the day's events gets to you. If someone had told you that you would end up being the omega mate to two Avengers you would have laughed in their face but right now wrapped up with them is all you could have ever wished for. The love of two powerful and amazing alphas and they are all yours. “I love you two.” You mumble so close to sleep. Both women were smiling. “We love you too.” Wanda kisses your shoulder and Nat kisses your head. “Our omega.”

3K notes · View notes

thevillainswhore · 9 months ago

Text

New Tricks: A Pure Love

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: From first kisses to first dates, the two of you have come a long way from pining over the other in secret and innocent touches during an unplanned movie night. But now, what once was a forbidden fantasy for an unattainable crush becomes reality when you coach Bucky Barnes through losing his virginity.

Warnings: College AU, brother’s best friend!Bucky, fluff, swearing, teasing, smut, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex, nipple play, handjob, praise kink, size kink, big hints of subby Bucky, dorky Bucky, love confessions.

Author’s Note: Beta and dividers by @rookthorne, she’s been my rock through this whole AU. Words will never be enough to thank you my love ❤️ Here is part three and the final instalment to New Tricks’ main storyline 🥹

New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾

New Tricks Playlist 🎵

Your evening together has been magical, something pulled straight out of your dreams. The visuals of the bright, glowing stars and planets are nothing in comparison to the smile that pulls at Bucky’s mouth, even after the two of you left the museum.

During the walk back to your dorm with Bucky, he talks constantly and animatedly about the planetarium — recounting his joy for all the astronomical wonders he got to witness up close. And listening to your boyfriend’s contagious glee for a date you put together has you grinning from ear to ear.

In the late hour, you make a stop on your way back to the local twenty-four hour dessert parlour that is close to your dorm, opting for two single scoop ice cream cones. Bucky chose chocolate; you chose strawberry, and you stroll hand in hand down the Brooklyn cobblestones.

“I still can’t believe you don’t like chocolate ice cream, Bee,” Bucky accuses with his mouth full, shaking his head with a high sense of mock disapproval.

You roll your eyes playfully and scoff. He hasn’t stopped complaining about your dislike for chocolate flavoured treats since you revealed that snippet of information while you perused the options available to you at the parlour. “How many times are we going to go over this, Buck? Strawberry is superior,” you tell him with a proud smile.

“Absolutely not!” Bucky gasps, outraged. “I refuse to listen to this slander against chocolate.”

“Drama—” Your retort is cut short by him pressing you against the wall of the building next to you. The cone of ice cream in your hand almost topples precariously, interrupting you mid lick, and he ignores your surprised shout of, “Hey!”

“We are settling this right now, Buttercup.” He looks deep into your eyes with dire seriousness. “You’re gonna try mine and tell me that you like it.” The cone of chocolate ice cream appears in your peripheral vision.

“Bucky!” You laugh. “I haven’t tried chocolate ice cream in years!”

“All the more reason to try it now.” He holds his cone up to your mouth, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes and a pout on his plump lips. “For me?”

“Y’know, you can’t keep bribing me with those puppy eyes — No matter how handsome you are.”

With a cheeky smile, he whispers, “Is it working, though?”

Sighing in defeat, you can’t help the upturn of your lips at his charm. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Hit me with it.”

Like the cat who got the cream, Bucky closes the gap between you and the cold treat, letting it slightly touch your lips — the cold sensation makes you shiver, and you tentatively stick your tongue out, slowly laving it up the side of the scoop of ice cream.

The strong taste of cocoa and sugar doesn’t impress you, and you flick your gaze towards your boyfriend to say as such, only, he’s homed in on the motion of your tongue while you lick the last remnants of cream from your lips.

He shudders, the strong line of his shoulders shaking with the force of them, and he pants quietly. The rise and fall of his chest is uneven while his blue eyes darken to a stormy grey.

It's difficult to contain the satisfied smirk growing on your lips as you ask teasingly, “You good, baby?”

Bucky gulps, unsuspecting of such an innocent act to affect him so much. “I’m uh— I’m good.” His head bobs up and down, no real confidence in his answer, but his stare still pins you in place and he bites his bottom lip. “How’d you like it?”

“Hmm,” you hum, then you lick your lips again — just to make sure they are entirely clean, of course. Bucky’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention. “I have to say…” The urge to use pretence to answer his question makes you want to burst into laughter, but you soldier on with the truth. “I’m sorry, honey. I still stand by my initial statement.”

The erratic movements of his chest abruptly cease, and his eyes never leave yours while you lean forward, closer to his lips. “But,” you whisper, the tips of your fingers dancing up his chest. Every touch builds the deepening tension swirling in his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to try something new every so often, Puppy.”

You reach up to the corner of his mouth and swipe the smudge of chocolate ice cream left there with your thumb, then suck it into your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop — it feels like you well and truly break his resistance.

Bucky’s fingers twitch against the cone by your lips, and it crumbles. The forceful puffs of air from his parted lips blow against your mouth, the inevitability of him pouncing on you any second undeniable.

Rather than making it easier on him, you smirk and push him back by his shoulder. “Never hurts to experiment — Try new things. You never know.”

The dazed expression on his features is innocently sweet, and you try not to laugh as he reaches out for you to drag you back, but you dodge his hands and walk away, out of reach. You look at him over your shoulder and lick up the dribbling cream that almost reaches your hand.

Bucky stares after you, mouth agape. “I— What—” He shakes himself back to reality, and he licks his lips, brushing his long hair back with his fingers and he throws his crumbled ice cream cone into the nearest trash can — no longer interested in that sweet treat.

Bucky’s long strides work to catch up with you, a new kind of spark in his eyes you haven’t seen before. “Something new, huh?”

“Yeah, handsome,” you purr. The steps to your apartment come up, and you take the first few with your back to Bucky, a smirk playing on your lips. Just as you reach the entryway door, you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who returns your coy smile with a hesitant one of his own. “Sometimes you’ve got to just let go and give in.”

Bucky stands behind you while you unlock the door to your dorm. The material of his button up shirt scrapes against the bare skin of your arm, and you try to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine, but it's useless. The air is charged with a thick tension unfamiliar between the two of you, and you feel as though you're swimming in new territory, wading into the depths of the unknown.

“I had a great time tonight, Bee,” Bucky says quietly over your shoulder; the urge to kiss the skin there too tempting for him not to fall into.

A shiver ripples down your spine from the sensation of his lips tickling your skin, and you stop just as you’re about to open the door. They move carefully over the slope of your neck and up to the lobe of your ear.

Reining in your arousal, you turn around and agree with a broad smile. “Me too, handsome.”

His eyes flicker between you and the door to your dorm. You hold his hand while the other rests on the handle behind you. “Ready to go in?” you ask.

Bucky clears his throat. “Mhm,” he mumbles, and with his confirmation, you open the door. Immediately, the glow of orange lights grab his attention as they dance on the ceiling. Lit candles are placed on surfaces around the room, while your vinyl record turntable plays soft music.

The ambiance seems to both intrigue and calm Bucky, and you feel your own shoulders loosen. Thank you, Nat, you think inwardly.

“Come on,” you whisper, urging Bucky further into your dorm room. He walks forward wordlessly, and with him out of the way, you close and lock the door behind you both — it affords you a solitary second to process the secret desire that has been stored away for so long.

A guilty pleasure about your brother’s best friend that you revelled in at one point in time is becoming a reality.

There is no means to do that now, to stow it away in secrecy — he stood behind you, right there in reach of you, no longer a fantasy.

The door locks with a muffled click, and you turn around to see Bucky standing by the foot of your bed, head bowed and fiddling with the hair tie around his wrist. Slowly and steadily, you edge closer to him, careful not to make any sudden movements that will spook him. “Bucky?”

His body tenses slightly, his shoulders almost reaching his ears as you near him.

“Sweetheart?” you repeat, and you tuck back some of the hair that kept him hidden — a curtain he didn’t want to peer through. A dazzling pair of ocean blue eyes meet your own; swimming with anxiety and the desperate craving for direction.

“Hi, you.” Your voice soothes him, and he instantly melts into you — callused, trembling hands rush to seek contact, finding their home around your waist.

“Hi, Bee,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

The soft instrumental of guitar chords pacifies the ambience. “How are we doing?” you ask gently.

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, and there’s a shaky, tremulous quality to his voice when he answers with, “Nervous.”

You place a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, hoping to calm him. “About what, baby?”

Leaning slightly backward to better look into his eyes, you notice there is a storm of emotions swirling through his irises. In an attempt to soothe the hurricane, you comfortingly rub your hands down his muscled arms.

“S— Sex.” His neck flushes with patchy red blotches; a staple of whenever he is flustered.

You hum soothingly and nod your head, acknowledging his worries. “You know, we don’t have to do it if you feel like you’ve changed your mind, sweetheart. I was nervous for my first time, too.” Your fingers wrap around his arm to squeeze gently, grounding him in the wallow of nerves. “It’s okay if you’re not ready.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head, gulping. “I— I want this. I really want this.” There is such conviction and assurity in his voice that you cannot help but kiss him softly. He pulls back and his breath shudders.

“You’re completely sure about this?” you ask once more, making sure to give him the space to reject your advances if he feels the need to.

“Mm.” Bucky nuzzles into your neck, taking comfort in your embrace as he mumbles into your skin, “With everything I have.”

You grasp his face into your hands with the most care and love you can possibly manifest to bring him out of his safe retreat, and you connect your lips with his again.

The motion comes easy to Bucky now, natural. He has no fear and certainly no hesitation to kiss you the way he likes, with tenderness and an urge to claim you as his own — his mouth moves over yours in a synchronised dance, the steps familiar, but it still feels new, thrilling in nature.

Snaking your hands down from his cheeks, your fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake over his neck. They stop over his collar, and you look into his eyes to gain permission to undress him. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” He’s relaxed enough in your hold to not allow nerves to hinder him just yet.

You begin to make your way down his covered chest, and with the utmost care, you unfasten each button effortlessly — tan skin, smooth as silk and dotted with a pattern of sun kissed freckles, is revealed with each undone button, and you have to tamper down your impatience to rip the shirt straight off of his shoulders.

“You’re so gorgeous, Bucky,” you breathe in disbelief, and your palms slither back up his body, sneaking over the ridges of his abs. “And all mine.”

“Ah–” Bucky gasps and jolts — your nails, longer than usual, brush over a responsive area of his stomach and you grin into his neck.

You skim the tips of your fingers over the planes of his pecs, and over his shoulders to finally slide off the material veiling the godly sight of his body to you. Of course, you have already seen your boyfriend without a shirt on before, but right now, in the glow of the candlelight and the orange hues dancing over his skin, he looks like he’s been sculpted from the angels themselves.

“Bee…” A dust of pink decorates his high cheekbones, still ever so shy with your compliments.

You open your mouth to reply, but Bucky thoroughly shocks you as he begins to unbuckle his belt, the muscles in his stomach tensing as his hands work to free the leather from his slacks.

You watch, breathless, while he pulls down the slacks to reveal a pair of tight black briefs that do nothing to hide the growing bulge. Bucky is fucking huge, that much you make out from the strain of the material, and you’re almost sure he isn’t even fully hard.

“Oh my god.” The sensation of your quiet divulgence against his ear elicits a sudden moan from his lips. You will never tire of being the cause of that sound.

The rush his vocalised pleasure evokes has you beginning to reach behind your back to unzip your dress. However, Bucky hesitantly stops your hands in their haste. “C— Can I do it?” he stutters, eyes wide and glossy. “Can I undress you — Please?”

It would be a crime to not allow him after a plea so sweet.

With your nod of approval, he takes a deep breath, calming his nerves before he makes his way behind you. You feel his fingers hover over your back, tentative and unsure and it takes him a moment until he sighs in finality.

He pinches the zipper, tiny in his long fingers, and he slowly descends the barrier downwards. The spaghetti straps slip off one by one — his knuckles gently skim over your shoulders until they trail down your arms, and with a quiet flutter, the entirety of your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in just your lingerie.

You wait patiently, letting Bucky take in every inch of your half naked form. Moments pass by and your combined breaths — one steady, the other erratic — ricochet through the room.

“Sweetheart?” You feel the strands of his long hair sweep across your skin as he looks up at the sound of your voice. “Would you like to get my bra?” It’s an offer, a choice for him to decide on his own terms without the pressure.

Stunning you with his growing confidence, he begins to unfasten the material — the straps fall down your arms with ease and you gently let it drop to the floor.

Bucky gulps harshly, then. The realisation that your breasts are on display for the first time to his eyes hitting him like a truck.

Stepping around your figure to come to your front, he keeps his eyes on your face, never once looking away as he kneels to the ground. His nimble fingers work to slip your heels off, taking care to help you place your bare feet down onto the carpet without letting you trip, and he kisses your lower thighs. Once he’s finished, the palms of his hands rub up the back of your calves and squeeze while he rises to stand.

His gaze still doesn’t stray.

“You can look, Bucky — It’s okay.”

Only with your go ahead do his eyes dart down, taking the entirety of your body in at once. A harsh inhale of breath catches in his throat, the rise and fall of his chest is rapid while his fingers twitch by his sides. His gaze locks onto your breasts — guilty as charged with his basic instincts.

“Puppy,” you call out to him, parsing through the growing fog of desperate need in his mind, visible by the glint of hunger across his irises. “Come here.”

His eyes shoot up, searching your expression for any sense of mocking, and he finds none. There is a desperate gleam in his cloudy, misted gaze — frantic for guidance and reassurance still. “Come here, baby,” you whisper, holding your hands out for him to grab hold of. “It’s alright.”

The steps Bucky takes are rigid, robotic — not allowing himself to lose what little control he has left. You vow to change that. He stops at a small distance in front of you, further away than you care for, and you take the bait to bring yourself closer until your nipples skim across the bare planes of his skin.

The sensation steals your breath away, and Bucky squeezes his eyes closed, clenching his fists at his sides — it takes you back to your movie night together all that time ago, when the voice in his mind told him to hold back, to not give in to the urge to reach out instead.

And that just wouldn’t do.

“None of that, sweetheart,” you coo, softly. “I’m gonna need you to open your eyes so I can see you.”

Like magic, he flickers his eyes open, and he swallows around the lump in his throat.

“There he is.” You smile reassuringly at him. “Deep breaths for me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

Bucky takes a small moment to do as you say, treating your word as gospel. His mouth works furiously over the words that won’t seem to come, until he settles on a breathless, “You’re so beautiful.”

The way he’s devouring you with his eyes says volumes of his true meaning, and you couldn’t find it in you to mind that he was speechless.

You gently tuck the hair that’s fallen into his eyes behind his ears. “Oh, baby,” you whisper back, holding his face in your hands while a torrent of emotions that vary from awe to trepidation threaten to sweep you away. “You’re something else. I’m so lucky.”

A small huff of laughter falls from his parted lips, and he begins to grin, a cheeky pull at the corner of his lips that spreads warmth from your core to the tips of your toes and fingers. “If only you knew how much the guys on the team make fun of me for saying the exact same thing.”

The two of you share a small bout of laughter — a wholesome moment to cut the charged air and be yourselves for a second.

You slide your hands down from his face down to his chest, feeling the steady pitter patter of his heart that’s calmed down from the fast thrum — the soft smile you give him forces a heavy exhale of breath from his lungs, and you revel in the one you’re given in return.

“Good to keep going?” You check in once more.

Bucky nods his head, certain. “Please.”

“Sit on the bed for me then, Puppy,” you softly direct him.

Following behind him, sure to stay close for both his benefit and yours, he climbs onto your mattress and sits against the headboard. He holds his hand out to you, routine embedded into him to guide you onto his lap.

It registers to him then, as your bare skin melts against his, that you have never been in this position with so little layers between you.

Carefully, you rest your crotch — covered by your thin layer of underwear — against his. A thrill of tension stiffens Bucky’s muscles, and you smile gently at him while you shuffle your knees comfortably on either side of his thighs — fully aware that the sensation is much more intense than usual.

“Bee…” His warm, callused hands hover over waist as you readjust yourself, and while you set yourself down on his lap, the lace of your panties swipe over his hardening cock. “Oh— Fuck.” He chokes out.

Immediately, you still. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I wanna touch you,” Bucky forces out, breathing heavily. “So bad—”

“Remember to breathe, Buck,” you remind him gently, not wanting him to overwhelm himself — not this early. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

His chest shudders with a harsh breath, and he whimpers, “I don’t know what to do.”

The lack of experience and inadequacies that stem from it run rampant through his saddening expression, from the sheen of tears that start on his lash line, to the deep frown on his pouting lips. They lock him in place and render him frozen under you — the tense line of his thigh muscles taut beneath yours.

You realise with a shock that while he is so eager to please, a mingling sense of shame screams that he won’t be able to make this good for you.

“Hmm. Baby, listen,” you soothe, gathering his attention once more. His hands intertwine easily with your own and you kiss his knuckles. “How about we start off with something you do know?”

Bucky looks at you with all the innocence of someone completely out of their depth. “O— Okay,” he stutters. “Yeah, I can do that.”

You smile, placing a single, loving kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Sitting back upright, you slowly test a gentle roll of your hips over his crotch and instantly, Bucky gasps loudly. You grin salaciously as you witness his eyes flutter closed. But you still take care to stop, to wait a second and look for any signs he doesn’t like it — there are none, much to your satisfaction.

Slowly, you rock back and forth over his bulge, drinking in the slight, hitched moans and whines that fall from his lips. “You’re doing so well — Proud of you.” You bring the tips of his fingers to your lips and kiss them gently. “It’s only you and me, okay?”

Bucky’s eyes flutter; heavy breaths escaping his mouth. “You and me,” he whispers.

“That’s right. Just us.”

“You don’t have to worry your pretty little head, Puppy,” you tease gently. Bucky bites his lip. “I need you to just relax — Sit back and let me do the thinking.”

“Buttercup–”

“Here.” You guide Bucky’s hands to your sides, smoothing them down the slopes of your hips, and you repeat the motion a few more times to better allow him to feel accustomed to the feel of your naked skin. “There you go.”

His hands, rough and calloused from his football training, stain your body for an eternity — caressing you with a ceaseless love and compassion.

“Touch me,” you say, unable to simmer the blooming heat within you.

Transfixed, Bucky’s thumbs brush back and forth. There’s still a sense of hesitation in his movements — the way his fingers twitch and tickle over your skin. But it lasts only a moment; a path of his own choice decorates your sides, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Your skin is so soft,” he sighs in awe.

He rests his head back against the headboard with a soft sigh, and he tilts his chin down to watch you grind against his bulge. Leisurely, he tenderly brushes his fingers over your stomach, the touch of his hands beginning to drift upwards under the slope of your tits.

“Please, Bucky,” you plead with him, the tease of having him so close is too much to bear. “Touch me.”

“‘Kay,” he mumbles drunkenly.

The pad of his thumb swipes over the peak of your nipple softly, a barely there sensation that makes you keen. “Yes, just like that, Pup.”

It’s all the reaction he needs.

With a surge of confidence, Bucky begins to massage your tits, continuing to use his thumbs to rub circles over your sensitive nipples while you grind against his growing cock. “I— Is this okay, Buttercup?”

You almost scoff — the thought that his experimental touches are anything less than okay absurd to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you whine, and the reassurance of your pleasure invigorates him to move faster, steadier and more firm with his touch. “Making me feel so good, baby, keep going.”

Lost in the feel of his touch and the insistent pressure of his clothed cock against your folds, you tilt your head back and close your eyes. The flutter of butterflies in your stomach crescendo into a frenzy the faster you move. All the while, you miss the way Bucky’s gaze is intently focusing on the way your breasts sway with the grind of your hips; how he licks his bottom lip with an urge to claim.

The sharp, intense sensation of his fingers pinching a peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger forces a shout from your parted lips. “Fu–uck, Bucky — Ohmygod.” Your cunt pulses and aches when his fingers stay hovering, spooked at the sudden reaction. “More, more—”

“Fuck,” Bucky groans, and he bucks up into you, matching your rhythm and this time, it’s you who’s soaking the material of your panties. “Bubs, I— Holy shit — I need more.”

It’s an achievement you’re most excited for, that he’s freely telling you, unprompted, what he needs.

Though, the teasing nature you held could not be dissuaded — you meet his gaze with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, Puppy?” Your hands hover over his lower stomach, the tips of your fingers dancing over the twitching muscles, and you move your index finger beneath the fabric. “Wanna get rid of these?”

The elastic waistband of his underwear snaps back against his lower stomach, making him yelp in surprise. “Ah— Mhm,” he begs deliciously, eyes wide and completely surrendering to you. “Take ‘em off, Bee, please.”

Your bare skin brushes against his while you shuffle backwards, slowly crawling down his legs all while marking his skin with kisses and teasing nibbles, until you reach his briefs.

Looking up at Bucky under your eyelashes, you blink sweetly, eyeing the sweat that begins to build on the ridges of his abs. Your breath ghosts over the material of his underwear while you ask, “Can I have your cock?”

“Oh, god,” he chokes out while his dick twitches in uncontainable excitement.

“I need your consent, Bucky.” The statement brings him back to the present, grounding him to the sight of you between his thighs and softly reminding him that everything is on his terms.

“Yeah,” he gasps. A few deep breaths cause his chest to rise and fall, steadying the rabbiting pulse in his neck. “Yes.”

With his confirmation, you slowly, gently ease your fingers underneath the fabric that hid what you truly wanted — the waistband slides easily down his tense thighs. Your eyes are focusing on the new inches of skin revealed, the sculpted line of his Adonis belt that runs down to the one part of his body you’re desperate to see.

Bucky watches you with bated breath — you’re so close to his cock, and it’s still not enough for him.

The small whine of frustration makes you flit your gaze upwards. A sheen of moisture shines over his eyes, and the pout of his lips are shining slick with spit — he looks absolutely wrecked, and you hadn’t even taken his hard cock from the confines of his briefs.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you finally pull his briefs down until his twitching length bursts free of the material, standing tall and thick, curved and almost purple from the strain of arousal. Your eyes follow the veins trailing up his length, and you lick your lips once you spot a pearl of precum already forming from the tip of his dick — a sweet temptation that’s teasingly begging you to have a taste.

You’re speechless, literally awe stricken while you salivate over the length and girth of his cock. “Oh.” The slow blinks of your eyelids leave them hooded, but you continue to stare, hypnotised at the sight of your boyfriend’s huge cock.

“B— Buttercup?” he whispers, voice tense with worry after the few seconds of silence that stretch while you stare, transfixed. “Is— Is everything okay?”

You swallow, trying to rid the sudden dryness in your mouth. “Bucky,” you say roughly, and you look up into his doe eyes. “If I weren’t a more patient woman, I’d have your cock in my mouth and down my throat already.”

He sputters, the blotchy redness beginning to creep up from his chest to his neck.

“You’re so fucking big, baby. Holy fuck— how do you have such a pretty cock?” you wonder aloud.

“Shit, you can’t say that,” Bucky groans, squeezing his eyes shut as his dick twitches. The far more rapid rise and fall of his chest makes his stomach muscles contract and flutter — the sight lends ideas for the future idea of working him over into the line that blurs pleasure and pain, all to see how he takes it.

But you lick your lips, promising yourself to revisit that thought later. Tonight was about him.

“Fine. I’ll behave,” you tell him, waiting until his eyes open and focus on you before you grin wolfishly. “For now.”

Bucky’s lips part to speak, but before he can work the words past his tongue, you sit up and grab his hands, directing them to your hips and over the fabric of your panties. The hold you have over the back of his hands leaves him unable to pull away — not that he desires to.

The fabric glides over your hips with your guidance, revealing the bare skin. “Oh— Fuck,” Bucky murmurs, watching the journey the fabric takes until it lands on the floor next to your bed.

“Buttercup,” he gasps in wonderment. “You— You’re perfect.”

It’s difficult to remain confident while your boyfriend looks at you as though you put the stars in the sky just for him — like he’s seeing an angel. “You’re a true gentleman, aren’t you?” you laugh, trying to hide the way his stare makes you flustered.

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes soaking you in with such a reverence that’s dizzying. “You— Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m taking about because — Fuck. Believe me, you’re fuckin’ unreal.”

The world seems like it stops on its axis right then and there. You know Bucky’s emotions are heightened and at an all-time high, but you also know that he means every word of what he says — his sobering eyes tell you the truth alone.

You’re the one who becomes a stuttering mess for a moment, and you stumble over your words before you manage to regain your composure, and you clear your throat. “T— Thank you, baby.” The pause in heated touches gives you an opportunity to check in. “How are you feeling?”

Still trying to gain some semblance of control, he audibly gulps. “I— I’m good, yeah.”

“Yeah?” You begin to steadily shuffle forwards on your knees, further up his legs to hover over his crotch, careful to not let your body graze him just yet. “You know you can back out whenever you’d like, okay? You say the word and we stop.”

The small distance between your most intimate parts is dangerously in the balance.

“No,” Bucky says finally, shaking his head as his hair sweeps over his face. A few strands settle over his cheeks. “Wanna keep goin’.”

You bite your lip and smile wickedly. “You got it, baby.”

His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he watches you begin to lower your body. “We’re just going to keep doing what we’ve been doing, okay, baby?” You reassure as his breathing picks up.

But his eyes stay focused and fixated on you.

When your cunt lowers against the base of his cock, the movement pushes his length down until the tip almost reaches his belly button, and even with the visual of you resting over his length as you always did in the past, Bucky isn’t prepared for the feel of his bare dick sitting snug between your folds. His eyes shoot open while he gasps loudly and balls up the bedsheets tightly in his fists. “Shit, shit — Fuck, oh my— God—”

The palms of your hands smooth over his tense stomach. “Easy there, big guy,” you coo softly. “It’s okay.”

His breathing becomes erratic as his back arches against the headboard. “Oh god, you’re— You’re fuckin’ soaked, Bee.”

You are. Nobody else ever had this kind of effect on you, and so you certainly aren’t ashamed for Bucky to know how much he turns you on. “That’s what you’re doing to me, baby — Can’t help it,” you keen.

His chest rumbles while he groans deeply, throwing his head back.

The urge to move is compelling, almost swallowing you whole — Bucky isn’t the only one struggling to keep calm, with his thick length brushing your entrance and putting constant pressure on your clit, it’s a challenge to not take him then and there.

“Do you remember when we first kissed?” you ask breathlessly before you begin to squirm. “And I asked you to think about how wet and tight I’d be for you?”

Bucky’s muscles strain as he frustratedly tangles his fingers in his hair. “Fuck, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, baby.”

Your hips work a little quicker over his cock, the slide seamless from how aroused you are, and to your surprise, you feel his hips work against you, too. “How does it feel to know your inches away from slipping inside my pussy?”

The rocking movements of his hips falter as he jerks up and jostles you, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter in a crazed frenzy. “It feels— Please— You’re killin’ me—”

“My sweet boy,” you utter. “Don’t worry, you’ll have it soon.”

Each and every plea and whimper that falls from his red-bitten lips only serves to turn you on even more. He tries to flex his hips to push his cock into you, to feel the warmth of your cunt around him, but even he isn’t ready for the sensation that ripples down his spine once the tip catches on your hole.

“Fuck!” he curses.

Hurriedly, you move yourself away before he can slip in any further. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart, I need you to be calm for me, alright? You can have me when you're calm, not just yet. Breathe for me.”

“No — I, no no, Bee, please, don’t do this to me. I want—” Bucky vehemently shakes his head from side to side, the vein in his neck almost popping from his exertion to hold back. His hands grip your waist, digging into your skin as he drags you back down onto his cock desperately. “Please, I wanna feel—”

“Oh, Pup,” you sigh with an all too innocent smile. “You wanna be a good boy for me, huh?”

“I can, I can,” he whines. The feel of his hands pawing at your waist sends a thrill up your spine. “Fuck, I can!”

“Yeah,” you mumble, unsure if you can hold out much longer yourself. “You can, Pup — I know you can.”

“Bee—” Bucky is a pure wreck, his chest heaving with breath, and a film of perspiration builds on his temples. You know it’s impossible for him to garner any more control, and you grant him mercy as you slightly lift your hips up to line the hole of your pussy up with his cock.

“Bucky, baby,” you call to him, waiting patiently until his wild eyes lock onto you, and you forewarn him, “You're sure about this?”

His bright blues cloud over with a haze of lust, and you shiver when he cries, “Please.”

“Okay, okay,” you soothe. “Alright, baby — Wait, hang on, sweetheart.” The bed creaks as you shuffle backwards once more. “Let’s get you off the headboard, so you’re comfier.”

The two of you move in tandem so his head rests back against the pillows, and you settle back over his hips, reaching out to smooth your thumb over his cheek. “Better?”

Bucky smiles and nods once, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“Okay.” You brace yourself with a steady breath, and finally sink down onto Bucky’s cock, the tip easing into your cunt with a pop. The stretch from his head alone has you squeezing your eyes shut, but you revel in the way he freezes under you, then the sluttiest whine you’ve ever heard falls from his slack mouth.

The effort to work past the thickness of his head causes your hands to rest on his stomach, allowing him to hold your weight, and your mouth falls open with a silent scream as you drop down further, taking more of his length.

Glancing down at your boyfriend to check on him, you find only the whites of his eyes through his hooded lids, and his fists balling so tightly in the sheets of your bed that they begin to tear.

With a whimper, your walls clench around his cock. “A— Almost in, baby.” Another inch fills your cunt. “Doing— Doing so well, Bucky,” you pant.

Your nails create indents into his skin while you internally build up the courage to take the entirety of his length. It feels an impossible task, one you desperately underestimated, but you were no quitter. Your walls rhythmically squeeze around him, and your breath hitches when you feel him twitch against the stimulation.

“God, I want you,” you moan, hanging your head. An unintelligible mumbled string of words or sounds fall from his lips in reply. “Fuck it.”

With a deep breath and a prayer for mercy, or strength, you arch your back — the wrecked moan that Bucky rasps sends a thrill of hunger up your spine. The slide of his cock against your walls makes you cry out, and you quickly drop your hips until you're fully seated against his crotch.

“Oh shit!” Instantly, Bucky shoots up from the mattress and wraps his arms firmly around your middle, crushing you against his heaving chest. “Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move — Please — Don’t fuckin’ move.”

You sling your arms around his shoulders in reply, and the two of you cling to one another with only your heavy breaths disturbing the quiet music in the background. The bare skin of your bodies sticks to each other, glistening in the candlelit room while the silent moments pass.

Hot, heavy breaths fan over the skin of your neck while Bucky nuzzles his face against the juncture of your shoulder — the movement effectively burying him entirely into your form. There is no way for him to get any closer, or any way to hide his muffled sniffles and gasps for air.

The beat of your heart steadies and thumps evenly — you pray that it is enough to calm his overwhelmed senses. “Steady, Pup — You’re alright, I’ve got you.” Gently, slowly, you comb your fingers through the damp strands of hair by his temples. “Just stop and let it happen, feel it, don’t fight it. It’s okay, baby.”

“S’too much, too much, Bee— Please, please, I don’t—” He stumbles over his words, working himself up.

“Bucky,” you say, firm but gentle, trying to reason over his rambling. “Do you need to stop?”

“No!” He holds you even tighter. “Please no, no no, don’t go, don’t move, don’t take— Please stay.”

“Hey, hey— I’m here, I’m here. I’m staying — Breathe, baby.” You rub your free hand over his back, shushing his pleas and continuing scratching your fingers over his scalp.

As you pacify Bucky, he begins to calm down — his breathing softens, the heightened intensity of emotions flowing easily into a quiet, content peace between you. Cautiously, you slightly lean yourself back and ask, “Can you look at me, please, sweetheart?”

It's a gradual process as he plucks the courage to lift his head out of your neck and surrender to your request, and your heart tightens when his teary eyes bore straight into your soul. “Oh, baby,” you sigh, bringing your hands round to hold his cheeks. “Was that a lot?”

Bucky timidly nods, his arms still caging themselves around your waist to keep you close.

“It’s okay — You’re okay, sweet boy — Doing so good.” The deep-rooted need to reassure him takes hold, an instinct that’s embedded within you to make him feel as safe as you possibly can. “Take your time.”

“Mm.” Bucky rests his forehead against your chest and listens to the steady beat of your heart, tethering himself back down to earth.

The charged air that holds the weight of tension finally breaks when he blows a long breath onto your skin. “This is— This is so much better than I imagined. Fuck, this is— Bee, I think I’m seeing stars.”

“Oh my god, you fucking dork.” Your laughter fills the room, full of pure happiness and glee to be able to find such fun in sex.

He smirks lopsidedly at you until you sigh, the amusement turning to fondness, and you kiss his forehead — almost able to forget the position you’re in.

But you’re soon reminded as Bucky quietly rasps, “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight — Can barely breathe.” Goosebumps run down the naked skin of your arms at the same time your cunt pulses. He grunts deeply with a sharp hiss. “You really were right.”

“I did warn you,” you tease, giggling when he lifts his head up and playfully glares at you. Closing the distance, you kiss him deeply, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as you whisper against his lips, “Ready for me to move now, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans.

You don’t waste any more time. Tangling your fingers around the locks at the back of Bucky’s head, you pull and begin to smother his neck with wet kisses, the taste of salt delicious on your tongue.

Raising your hips, his cock slides out of your pussy, leaving behind a hollowness you crave to fill immediately. Without forewarning, you swiftly lower yourself, sobbing with pleasure at how perfectly he fits inside you. “Bucky.”

“I know,” he moans, long and low, sounding as wrecked as you feel. “Fuck, Bee — I feel it too.”

Words fail you, the delightful feeling you’ve waited so patiently for holding you hostage as you pant into his shoulder.

It becomes easier with each stroke to fuck yourself onto his cock, making sure to grind yourself deeper into his lap each time you come down.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ think straight.” Bucky’s palms slide over your ass and grip it firmly.

You laugh deliriously, high on the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and you barely notice the way you instinctively change the motion of your hips, beginning to grind into his lap in circular motions.

A strangled sounding moan causes your focus to snap towards Bucky. “Oh— Jesus fuck!” His fingernails dig into your ass as he hysterically pleads, “Like that, baby — Exactly like fuckin’ that.”

Huffing with a smirk, you breathe, “You like that, huh?”

“Yes,” he admits shamelessly. You start to speed your motion up, and the filter between his mind and lips completely crumbles. “Your— Your p—pussy feels good — So good. You have no idea — Shit — Keep goin’, please—”

The words tumbling from his lips are cut off when you push against his shoulders, sending him off balance to lay back down on the bed with a thump. Then, resting your palms on his chest, you lean forward to kiss him. You whisper against his lips, a sly smirk creeping onto your mouth, “Hold on tight, baby.”

Using Bucky as leverage to hold your weight, you begin to bounce on his cock. The position allows his length to sink all the way into you, his tip hitting your cervix at the right angle to make you whimper.

“Oh, it’s so— Fuck, I’m so deep— In you.” He struggles to breathe, the wind totally knocked out of him, but he’s mesmerised and completely drowning in the sensation.

“I know, baby — Stretching me out so much.” A fire simmers in your eyes. The muscles of your thighs burn with exertion, but you refuse to stop — especially not when your boyfriend is a fucked-out mess beneath you, trying to control the subtle flexes of his hips.

While you’re riding him, far too engrossed in making sure you keep the rhythm steady, you miss the feral glint in Bucky’s eyes. He’s possessed by the sight of your cunt sucking in his cock so deliciously; your slick dripping down onto him and coating his dick.

Licking his lips, his eyes lock onto your puffy clit, enlarged and throbbing in pleasure, and he inches his hand forward to experimentally swipe his thumb over your nub. His gaze snaps up to you with the unleashed moan you scream to the roof. “Fuck, Bucky!”

You're quickly pulled back forward as Bucky grabs you behind the neck, bringing you down to kiss him. His tongue slithers into your mouth, his muffled groans rumbling against your lips while he continues to buck up into you.

The need to catch your breath has you pulling away, gasping for air.

Bucky looks drunk — eyes hooded with a hunger blurring the blue of his irises and the black of his pupils. His pink swollen lips hang open, wet from clumsy kisses with too much tongue for his hazy mind to process.

You hang your head low between your shoulders and cry, “Why are you so damn big, baby?”

His hands slink down to your hips, and he gropes at the quivering muscles desperately. “Buttercup,” he tries to warn you — the cries over the size of his dick are sending him into a deeper pit of hunger.

Your head’s already too hazy to process anything other than the feel of his cock. “I’m aching, how the fuck am I taking you right now?”

The thrusts of Bucky’s hips speed up, and he bends his knees to plant his feet on the bed, his sole mission to fuck up into your cunt.

“Feel so fucking full, Bucky — Filling my pussy up so good.” The breathy moans fall like chants from your lips.

The steady, punishing rhythm you maintain falters, and your breath hitches when his cock slips from your cunt — the obscene, slick sound of it slapping against his stomach filling the room.

You pant and press your hands down on his chest while he groans to the ceiling. “Shit, I—” Bucky’s eyes glaze over when he looks down at his body, the twitch of his cock in time with the hammering of his heart under your palm. “I didn’t mean to—”

You can’t help but giggle, and the sound immediately calms his worries — the cinch between his brows smoothing over as he looks up at you. “Don’t worry, baby.”

The movement of your hand towards his cock has his entire focus — his tongue moves over his lips, and you watch the shine of spit; how it makes his lips an even deeper red. “Oh, fuckin’— Fuck.”

His exclamation makes you freeze. “What’s wr—”

It clicks.

Though you took him in your heat, felt the pleasure he can give you, the realisation hits you like a freight train that not once this night had you felt the weight of his fully erect cock in your palm; to wrap your fingers around the length and work him over.

“I can’t—”

“Shh, you’re alright,” you soothe, and carefully, you wrap your hand around his girth. Your eyes widen when you can only just connect your thumb and fingers together. “Fuck me—” you gasp, beginning to lift yourself up to line him up to slide back in. “God — You can barely fit in my hand, baby. Here we go.”

It’s unclear to you what exactly causes Bucky to snap.

The room whirls in your vision and you gasp with surprise as his body suddenly shoots up and with ease from the mattress, flipping you over in one smooth, fluid motion. “Oh, fuck!”

One second your back is resting against the mattress, over the rumpled covers, and the next, your boyfriend's hands are pushing your thighs as far up your chest as they can go.

“I’m so sorry, Bee,” Bucky groans, kneeling between your spread legs — one hand holds your legs in place, the other brushes featherlight over your soaked lips. The sharp gasps for air make his voice sound hoarse and raspy.

He stares down at your pussy, licking his lips. “I can’t—” The fingers that danced over your lips move to grab his cock, encircling it in his large palm before he rests the head of it against the fluttering entrance of your cunt. “I can’t hold back anymore, need this.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply — the tip of his thumb brushes against your clit and you keen upwards, just as his cockhead slips into you. The slide of him easing into you is smooth, and the drag of his length stretches you inch by pleasurable inch.

“Oh my fucking god, baby!” Bucky bites the inside of your calf while you whine loudly, your walls clenching down onto him — a tear rolls down your cheek, the size of him is almost too much. “Yes!”

“Fuck, s’deep. I gotta move, Bubs — Please, lemme move.” His weight shifts to cover you, pinning you against the bed while he leans close to pepper needy kisses and bites over the column of your neck.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Bucky, please,” you beg, “I want it all.”

Raising your arms up to hold the headboard, you steady yourself for what is to come, and offer yourself to him on a platter, free for his taking.

Immediately, his eyes dart towards the movement of your tits, the natural bounce of them with every aborted thrust he makes. “Hnng— Yes,” he rasps. The slow thrusts turn rough, his skin slapping against the back of your sweat-slick thighs.

Your nipples, hard and pebbled, become his new target. “I want every fuckin’ inch of you, Bee,” he growls, swooping down and sucking your nipple into his mouth.

The room spins from the dizzying pleasure; the veins on his cock scrape your walls, his wet tongue playing with you, the hairs above his cock teasing your clit. It all begins to wind the knot tighter and tighter in your stomach.

“I need more,” you gasp while Bucky drags your nipple with his teeth and releases it with a wet pop. Your arms slither around his neck and bring him into your hold. “Fuck, Bucky, please.”

Corded muscles move you up the bed, and he forces his forearms under your back to hold you close. “Whatever you want, baby.” The fast thrusts slow to a deep, dirty grind — the length of him going deeper and deeper on each circle of his hips. “Gonna— Fuck, gonna give you anythin’ you want.”

The two of you crash your lips together and whimper into the other's mouth — heavy breaths and pants mingle while your combined sweat builds between your heated bodies.

“Wanna cum, Buck,” you plead desperately. “Want you to make me cum; feel s’good in me.”

A huff of breath fans over your lips, and a sly, lopsided grin pulls at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. The covers rustle and from the corner of your eyes, you see him planting a hand beside your head, next to your ear. “Don’t you worry,” he coos shakily through his grunts and moans. “I’ve got ya, Bee.”

His free hand drifts between your breasts and over your stomach, down to where you are connected. You gasp as the pad of his thumb settles over your clit, and he rubs in tight, fast circles, keeping pace with the thrusts of his hips into your pussy.

Your thighs begin to shake as you cry into his neck, “Please, keep going — Don’t stop!”

“Come on, baby,” Bucky coaxes gently. “You can do it. You can cum for me — C’mon.”

The tension in your stomach becomes unbearable — you slap the covers of the bed and ball them into your fist for something to ground you against the onslaught. “I— Ha, fuck!” You heave for breath, panting. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Let go — Can feel you, how tight you fuckin’ are. I’ll catch you, Bee.”

Your ears ring as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the pleasure insurmountable in its height, when it finally hits you. You convulse through the waves of it, letting it consume you whole while ragged pants for air and hoarse moans fall from your parted lips. “Baby, baby — I’m cumming!”

He still continues to fuck you through your orgasm until the last tendrils of electricity run their course, leaving you a twitching mess.

An overwhelming urge to be close to Bucky forces your hands to blindly reach out to grasp a part of him. The tips of your fingers graze the warm skin of his bicep, and he suddenly pulls away entirely — your cunt gaping and weeping at the loss of him.

“Pup?” You whimper. “Come back, what are you doing?”

“I’m h— Here, Buttercup,” he manages. Unknown to you, the feel of your walls fluttering against his dick almost had him finishing inside of you. His length glistens with your cum, and Bucky has to close his eyes tight and breathe to control himself.

Stubborn as you are, you intertwine your hands with his and pull him into you, smirking lazily at his shocked gasp when his cock grazes over your cunt.

Strands of his slick hair tickle your cheeks, and his cheeks are a deep hue of red. “Why did you stop, sweetheart?” you ask. The pupils of his eyes blow impossibly further. “You made me cum so fucking hard.”

You’re delighted to hear the whine he tries so hard to hide. “I— I panicked,” he admits. “You almost made me cum.”

Looking down, you see his cock twitching viscously, like he’s about to blow any second. “Aw, baby.”

You grab his length and start stroking him in your fist — the twist and pump of your fist making him choke and sputter. “Buttercup— What are you— What are you doin’?

“Go on,” you urge him, squeezing his thick cock at the base, and twisting on the pull upwards. “Cum on me.”

“I—” Bucky shakes his head rapidly. “No— I can’t do that — Fuck this feels too good — Can’t finish on you—”

“Bucky,” you gently interrupt him. “I’m telling you that you can.”

But he shakes his head again, trying to hold out. “Fuck, fuck — Oh, fuck — Baby I can’t please, I—”

You click your tongue and tighten your hand around his cock, pumping him harder faster, a spark in your veins and mischief on your mind. “Why not, hm? I need it — Don’t you want to give me what I need?”

“Bee—” he pleads. “Don’t do this to me.”

Though his words say one thing, the way Bucky thrusts into your fist tells you another — he’s dying to cum, the throb of his cock in time with his rabbiting pulse.

You refuse to have him holding back because the voice in his head is sabotaging his pleasure.

“Please, baby,” you beg of him, blinking your eyes and reeling him in on your invisible line. “I want it. Give it to me.”

Bucky bows his head, the curtain of his hair concealing his blown-out eyes. There’s a heavy sigh of defeat from his lips. “Fuck, Bee— What the hell are you doin’ to me?”

Biting your lip, you move the fingers of your free hand up the back of his sweaty neck to thread them through the hair at the base of his neck, and you pull him down to rest his forehead against yours. A wicked grin dances on your lips. “I’m gonna make you cum for me.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you speed up the pace, taking care to focus the pressure of your grip around the head of his cock.

“Oh—” Bucky chokes on his own spit, his toes curling while his hips work in tandem with the pumps from your fist.

“That’s it, Pup,” you murmur delicately, scraping your fingers over his scalp. “There’s a good boy.”

“Feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he slurs, whining as he seeks out your lips. “S’close, baby.”

You direct him, pulling him impossibly closer to slot your lips over his; tongue and teeth caressing with little finesse. “Give me it, Bucky — Please.” The words fall against his parted mouth.

“Gonna—“ The excitement for his climax builds when you feel his cock swell in your hand, the violent twitches of his mounting release. “Gonna cum, B— Buttercup.”

Lighting a fire to the match begging to burn, you tug his hair back in your fist, the grip tight and unyielding to bare his neck in an arch. The skin of his throat is damp with sweat, and the thunder of his pulse can be seen next to the frantic bob of his Adam’s apple. “Let go — Let go for me.” You lap at the sensitive skin with your tongue. “Make a mess of me with your big cock.”

The long wait, the weeks leading up to this very moment are entirely worth it when Bucky collapses onto you, his moans unending and agonisingly pleasureful. His hips stutter and thrust with no real rhythm while his cum shoots from the swollen head of his cock, painting your bare skin all the way up to your tits.

His release seems to never end, it pools over your stomach with no signs of slowing down.

Bucky trembles with the waves of pleasure, and he buries his face into your neck, nuzzling you to try and retreat from the nonstop sensation of release. Against the sheets, you can feel the way they rustle as his toes curl — the taut line of his shoulders makes him feel bigger while he shivers and jerks over you.

“Buttercup.” His palms frantically feel over your skin. “It won’t— Fuck — It’s not s—stopping.”

“Shhh,” you instantly soothe him, running your fingers through his hair and holding him close to you while you continue to pump your fist gently, milking him for all he’s got. “Almost there, Puppy — let it all go.”

Bucky sobs into your neck as the last few drops leak from his tip, and the pretty sounds of his moans vibrate against your chest. “Oh my god.”

“So fuckin’ good for me — Did so well, my sweet boy.”

Finally, his cock stops pulsating and begins to slowly soften in your hand. As carefully as possible, you remove your hand and smooth it over the heated skin of his waist. “Take it easy for me, baby,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss against his tear-stained cheek. “Remember to breathe.”

Bucky’s limbs loosen with the lull of your voice, and he eases his body down onto yours, letting you take his weight.

The two of you lay peacefully connected together, only your shared breathing to fill the quiet of your room. The needle on your vinyl long since raised, the song finishing with a gentle lull while you were wholly focused on him — much like the simmering high that had been building since your first kiss.

You are loath to interrupt the peace, but his heavy breathing told you that you will lose him to sleep any second now. “Bucky baby?”

When the rumble of his muffled, “Mhm,” tells you he’s returned back to you, you smile contentedly. “Do you think you’re able to let me clean you up now, hm?”

It's difficult to not laugh at the way he clings to you, tightening his hold and groaning, “No leavin’ me.” You smother the growing smirk creeping up your face.

The palms of your hands rub up and down his back, and you kiss the top of his head. “I’ll be quick, sweetheart. I promise.”

He sighs, much like a tired puppy, and begrudgingly slackens his arms and carefully lifts up off of you, rolling onto the bed next to you. “Hurry back, please.” The slight whine to his voice melts your heart.

“Thank you, baby.” You quickly shuffle off the bed, placing your feet on the floor. “I’ll be right back.” The floor creaks under your feet, and you rise from the edge of the bed, only, you overcompensate your judgement to hold your own weight so soon — the tremble of your thighs and weakness of your knees almost has you toppling to the floor. “Oh, boy.”

A snort of laughter sounds from behind you, and you look over your shoulder to find a dazed, smirking Bucky. “I did that to you,” he gloats drunkenly.

Your eyes widen in shock before you giggle along with him. “The cheek of you.”

Taking slow steps, you manage to make your way into your bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. You take the time to clean yourself up while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, smiling like an idiot to yourself and rebuffing the urge to squeal.

Upon walking out of the bathroom, your keen eyes catch the subtle peek Bucky makes through the mess of his hair, the wandering of his gaze over your still naked body.

The blush that covers his cheeks and neck when he sees that you have caught him staring is endearing, when only moments ago he was inside of you, desperate and moaning for more.

To humour his shyness, you choose to pretend you didn’t see, and you make your way back to him. It is a true struggle to not give in to the twitching strain of the muscles in your thighs, or how your knees almost buckle from under you.

“Here we go, baby,” you sigh happily, both from seeing his soft smile and how you made it to the plush mattress without falling over.

The warm cloth in your hand goes ignored by Bucky in favour of wrapping his arms around your middle, and he pulls you backwards into the covers until you are propped up on one side of your bed.

You hum warmly while wiping the mess of Bucky’s lower stomach, though you pause when you hover, uncertain, over his softened cock. “Am I okay to clean you up, baby?”

Looking up at you with his puppy eyes, he nods sleepily. “You’re okay, Bee.”

Taking care to be gentle, you wipe his most sensitive area and once satisfied, you toss the cloth towards the hamper of your room in favour of sideling up to Bucky. In the process, you turn onto your side and frame his face with your hands, waiting for his eyes to focus on you before asking, “How are we doing, handsome?”

The sound of his small laugh couldn’t make you happier, and his pearly whites gleam with his bright smile. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Buttercup.”

You giggle, a little high from the comedown too. “I take it that’s a good thing?”

He groans deeply and licks his lips. “Absolutely.”

You shiver and swat his chest. “Don’t be looking at me like that, you menace.”

Bucky hums sweetly. “It was amazing— No, wait. It was better than that.” His eyebrows furrow in thought. “It was — Um— Can’t think of the word — Oh, I’ve got it! Astronomical.”

Exhaustion is beginning to kick in for him, the very last dregs of his energy is being used to be a comedic clown — you fall for him even more.

A sudden, hesitant doubt creeps into his eyes, the need for reassurance coming forth. “Was it—” He pauses, his eyes searching yours. “Was it okay for you?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you coo. The sheets underneath your body rustle as you lay down more comfortably, and you guide his head to lay on your chest, over your heart. “It was perfect — you were perfect.” Kissing the top of his head, you drive his worries away. “Trust me when I say it was fucking incredible.”

The tenseness of his muscles begins to ease away. “Thank you…” Bucky hesitates, then moves even closer to you — once he is close enough for his liking, he angles his head up to blink at you dazedly. The emotion in his voice makes it waver when he says, “Thank you for taking care a’me.”

“Always, my sweet boy.” You look down, watching his eyes droop. “It’s all I ever want to do.”

“You’re so amazing, Buttercup,” he exhales blissfully. “So lucky to have you.”

Your heart beats out of your chest. “I feel the exact same way.” Unsure you could handle any more of his sweetness, you mumble, “Now get some sleep, Puppy.”

“Hmph — Fine.” He gives in, finally closing his eyes. “G’night, my Bee.”

Resting your head on your pillow, you brush your finger over his forehead, sweeping his hair out of his eyes while you sigh contentedly. “Goodnight, baby boy.”

Warmth floods your heart and a happiness like no other fills your bones, making you glow from the inside out. You’re not sure this night could be any better, and with that thought, you know you’ll rest easy tonight with the man of your dreams huddled in your arms.

On the verge of surrendering to sleep, the quiet of the night is disrupted by Bucky's sleepy mumble, “I loves you.”

Your eyes shoot back open, and you instantly look down, finding your boyfriend’s cheek squished against your breast with a little bit of drool gathering in the corner of his parted lips.

“Bucky?” you whisper, the quick thump of your heart stealing your breath. There isn’t a response, not even a twitch of acknowledgement. With more urgency, you whisper, “Bucky?”

This time you get a small, soft snore in reply.

You lay your head back down onto your pillow to stare up at the ceiling. The thoughts and doubts swirl viciously, the intensity of each and every one making you gulp, though one stands out among the rest: did he just confess his love for me?

There was the possibility of you hearing things — the comedown of the high you’ve been floating on messing with your head.

It’s not long before all of the day’s events catch up with you. The slowing blinks of your eyelids lasting longer and longer each time; the laxness of your muscles as they settle in for a much-needed sleep. But the question on your mind bears a heavy weight while you succumb to sleep.

Does Bucky love me?

The rays of the morning sun shining through the white drapes either side of your window are the first thing you become aware of as you wake up the next morning. With your eyes closed, you can see the yellow and amber glow of the sunrise.

A strong envelopment of warmth and comfort keeps you rooted in place, as well as the heavy weight of an arm across your middle. You don’t want to move from your spot, you don’t want to wake up yet; still basking in the afterglow of yesterday’s events.

But the second sensation, the mantra of light fingertips mapping over your face tips the balance of sleep overtaking you in favour of letting your consciousness creep to the surface.

Lastly, the final push, the soft, steady puffs of air tickling your nose persuades you to wave your white flag and flutter your eyes open.

The blurriness of sleep forces you to blink until the fog clears your vision — once you’re able to see the dancing, warm light of the sun, you’re given the gift of your handsome boyfriend, already awake, admiring you with his bright blue ocean eyes.

They’re the most clear they have ever been.

The lined skin besides his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the pull of it making his nose scrunch adorably. “Bee,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep. “Good mornin’.”

It's a damn killer, the expression of his face — full of true elation and contentment, and it has you falling in love all over again.

That’s when it hits you — the memory of last night, and what you think you heard him say when he was half asleep.

Trepidation makes your nerves impossible to conceal, especially when Bucky is noticing every minute expression on your face. It's only a matter of time before the natural courage, granted to you with the haze of the morning, fades away.

With a heavy gulp, you open your mouth and lick your lips. “Did, uh— Did you—?” The words die on your tongue.

Bucky’s thumb gently presses against your lips, his head gently shaking from side to side — a secret he wishes to keep just between the two of you, not shared with the birds that sing outside your window or the rays of the hopeful morning sun.

Your eyes are wide, beginning to water with the anxiety coiling inside your chest.

The crippling worry, however, dissolves when Bucky runs the pad of his thumb over your lips, the motion of back and forth touch grounding you. His eyes find their home deep into yours, and he finally speaks, “I love you.”

And it’s with an ease, one that has you cursing your inner voice for ever doubting yourself, you say those three words that battled to be said so, so long ago. “I love you, too.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #new tricks masterlist #new tricks #sebstanwhore

1K notes · View notes

kentopedia · 10 months ago

Text

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ REASSURANCE — nanami kento

kento comforts you when you're feeling down

contents: gn!reader, insecurities, pet names, this was written in like 30 mins so idk, 700 words, sfw

“kento?” you asked, resting your hands on your lap. from the other side of the couch, he turned, smiling softly, placing his thumbs between the pages of the book to save his spot. your head was buried in the cushion, and you stared at him, blinking slowly. “you still love me, right?”

at first, he laughed, a small little sound that left his throat. then, when your face fell further, he cut himself off immediately, eyebrows drawing together tightly. “of course, i love you, sweetheart. i love you so much. why are you asking me?”

you shrugged, embarrassed, and looked away from him, at your hands locked together. “sometimes i just don’t know why. it makes more sense that you wouldn’t love me than that you do.”

a heavy frown drew on kento’s face, and inched closer, reaching out. “what do you mean? did i do something that made you feel unloved? if i did, honey, i’m sorry—”

which only served to make you feel worse, because, most things weren’t ever kento’s fault. he was so patient and caring, the sweetest man you’d ever known. and you weren’t sure that you deserved that kind of love at all.

“of course not, kento, you’re perfect.”

he smiled a bit, then, but that didn’t erase the concern in his eyes. “i’m certainly anything but perfect.” his fingertips ran along the back of your own, softly. “tell me what’s wrong, my love. i don’t like seeing you upset.”

you sniffed, willing the tears away as you looked past him once more, unable to meet his gentle eyes. “it’s stupid.”

“don’t say that. nothing you feel is ever stupid.”

and when a tear fell down your cheek at the kind words, you wiped it away before kento could see it, scrubbing violently at your skin.

“i’m fine, kento.”

“you’re not.” he paused, softened his voice. “it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. i won’t make you. but don’t keep it all bottled up just because you think you’re being silly. okay?”

you glanced over, blinked, stared at the way his smile was slightly tilted. the plumpness of his lips, the gentleness of his eyes. his soft, blond hair falling over his forehead, because it was sunday night, and he hadn’t bothered to style it.

how dearly you loved him. you’d rather die than live a life without him.

a sob broke loose from you, and you covered your face with your hands, sniffling. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

kento said nothing, but drew you closer, pulling you onto his lap. tears fell down your cheeks, and though you didn’t want to look at him, he drew your lips to his own, the touch barely there, before he kissed across your cheeks, your forehead.

“why are you sorry?”

“i didn’t mean to cry. i’m being so dumb. and sensitive.”

“honey,” he sighed, stroking your cheeks, eyes almost pained from the sight of you so upset. “it’s okay. don’t apologize for crying. i love you. i love you, i love you.”

you breathed deeply, trying not to cry harder, hating how difficult it was for you to accept him irrevocable affections, sometimes. “but why? why would you choose me, kento? i don’t think i’m an easy person to love. i’m so… boring, and average, and you are amazing in every way.” you squeezed his hand, still resting on your cheeks, and leaned into it.

kento stared, forehead wrinkling, before he pushed you down to his chest, holding you close. a long inhale breathed deep into his body. “you aren’t any of those things, you know? you’re so lovable. you’re beautiful, caring, intelligent. anything but boring. anything but average.” he ran his fingers up the knots of your spine. “perhaps, i was put on this earth to prove you otherwise.”

you gave him a sad little smile. “you might be working on that for a while, ken.”

"that's okay." he laughed, soft, gently, enough to shake you against his chest before he kissed the top of your head. “that’s what love is, isn’t it? i'm not going to leave when things get tough.”

#kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

1K notes · View notes

p0orbaby · 3 months ago

Text

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

summary: you and alexia attend marriage counselling

warnings: suggestive

a/n: i have no clue what this is but i like it and i hope you do too !

word count: 1.4k

You’re sitting on a lumpy beige sofa, the kind that looks like it’s been stolen from an old woman’s sitting room. The armrests have stains that could either be coffee or something much more sinister. You don’t want to think about it too much. You also don’t want to think about the fact that you’re sitting next to your wife, who might be one or two millimeters closer to you than she’s been in the past week, but you’re not counting.

Alexia looks at the therapist like she’s evaluating her for a spot on the team. This is her default face—cool, calm, like she’s about to suggest subbing you out. You’re not sure how you feel about that. You’re also not sure how you feel about the therapist, who introduces herself as Dr. Bristow but who you immediately decide looks like a "Betsy."

Dr. Bristow, née Betsy, gives you both a gentle smile, the kind of smile people give puppies before they realise they’re about to chew through their expensive shoes. “So, why don’t we start with what brings you both here today?”

“I don’t know,” you say, crossing your arms because you’ve seen people do that in movies when they’re trying to look defensive. “Why don’t you ask Alexia?”

Alexia doesn’t even glance at you. “We haven’t had sex in a month”

You choke on absolutely nothing. The last time you checked, your sex life was no one else’s business, but apparently, Alexia’s decided that it’s Betsy’s now. Wonderful.

Betsy’s eyes widen, but her tone remains professional. “That must be difficult for both of you. Would either of you like to share why?”

Alexia shrugs, her muscles rippling under her tight shirt. You try not to notice, but you’ve always had a thing for her biceps—who wouldn’t? But now isn’t the time. You tell yourself this even as your mind decides to replay the last time those biceps were wrapped around you, gripping you like you’ll blow away with the smallest gust of wind.

She’s talking, and you force yourself to focus. “We’ve just been… busy”

You almost snort. Busy. That’s one way to put it. Busy with training, busy with travel, busy with being one of the best footballers in the world while you’re busy just trying to keep up. It’s not that you don’t understand, it’s just—God, it’s frustrating.

“Busy,” Betsy repeats, nodding slowly, as if she’s letting the word marinate. “That can definitely take a toll on intimacy. Have you both discussed how you feel about this?”

Alexia turns to look at you, and you suddenly feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

You clear your throat. “We’ve talked about it. Sort of”

Alexia’s eyebrows raise. “You mean I’ve tried to talk about it, and you’ve changed the subject”

There it is. That thing she does. You know she’s right, but the way she says it makes you want to argue just for the sake of it. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe the problem is that you’d rather wrestle a rabid dog than talk about feelings.

Betsy’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. “It’s not uncommon for couples to struggle with communication. What happens when you do try to talk about it?”

You exhale slowly, trying to avoid looking at Alexia’s lips because that’s just distracting. “She’s always so… calm”

Betsy blinks. “And that’s… a problem?”

“Yeah,” you say, exasperated. “It’s like she’s a robot. No offense”

Alexia just shakes her head, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “None taken”

“I just want to see some emotion, you know?” you continue, warming up to the topic. “I’m over here, losing my mind, and she’s just… chilling. Like, I could tell her I’m moving to Antarctica to raise penguins, and she’d probably just ask if I packed a warm coat”

Alexia finally shifts her gaze to you again, her eyes softening, which is somehow worse because it makes your chest tighten. “You know I care. I just… I don’t always show it the way you want”

Betsy leans in, like she’s watching a particularly juicy soap opera. “And what about you, Alexia? How do you feel about the way your wife expresses her emotions?”

Alexia’s eyes meet yours, and there’s that spark again. You know the one. It’s the one that usually ends with you pinned against the wall or thrown onto the bed, Alexia’s mouth on yours, all lips and teeth and heat. The one that reminds you why you fell for her in the first place.

But then she says, “I love how passionate she is. But sometimes it feels like she’s on fire, and I’m just trying to keep from getting burned”

Ouch.

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not a fire hazard”

“No, but you’re combustible”

“That’s just because you’re too controlled!”

Alexia laughs, and it’s not the reaction you expect. She actually laughs, and you’re left wondering if you’re missing the joke. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To figure out how to meet in the middle?”

Betsy nods sagely, like she’s the Buddha of bad relationships. “Finding balance is key in any marriage. Have you both considered how you might do that?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, probably considering how much easier it would be to just skip to the make-up sex and forget the rest. The thought must cross Alexia’s mind too because she gives you that look—the one that says, Let’s just go home.

You’re about to suggest it, too, but then Betsy has to open her mouth again. “Sexual intimacy is often a reflection of emotional intimacy. If you’re not connecting emotionally, it’s likely to impact your physical connection as well”

You want to groan, but instead, you offer a tight smile. “Thanks for that, Betsy”

Alexia stifles a grin, and for a moment, you feel like you’re on the same team again. You used to have so much fun together—where did that go? It wasn’t always football and fights. There were nights when you’d stay up until dawn, just talking, laughing, and occasionally getting tangled in the sheets, not caring about anything but each other. Maybe that’s what you miss the most—how easy it was back then, how effortless it felt.

“Remember that time in Cartagena?” Alexia suddenly says, as if she’s reading your mind. “When we got locked out of the hotel room after that party?”

You can’t help but laugh. “You mean when you tried to break in using a hairpin and almost got us arrested?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. “But you tackled me before the security guard could, and we ended up in that broom cupboard”

You’re both grinning now, and it’s like a weight lifts off your shoulders. That night was a disaster, but it was your disaster, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You remember how you’d both been breathless with laughter, trying to keep quiet in that tiny cupboard, your bodies pressed together in the dark, and then… well, things got heated, and you’re pretty sure the broom cupboard got more action that night than most honeymoon suites.

Betsy’s watching this exchange with mild interest, but you’re too caught up in the memory to care. “Maybe that’s what we need,” you say, half-joking. “More broom cupboards”

Alexia leans back, her hand sliding casually onto your knee, and you almost jump at the contact. “Or less pressure”

“Or more spontaneity”

“Or,” Betsy interjects, her voice slightly louder, “a bit of both?”

You look at Alexia, and for the first time in weeks, you see the possibility of something other than just surviving this rut. Maybe you don’t need therapy. Maybe you just need a reminder of what made you fall for each other in the first place—a little more broom cupboard, a little less beige sofa.

Betsy’s droning on about communication exercises, and you’re nodding politely, but you’re already planning your escape. You catch Alexia’s eye, and you both know exactly where this is going.

You’re going to leave here, and you’re going to find the nearest cupboard, or alleyway, or even just the backseat of the car if it comes to that. Anywhere you can be alone together, no talking, no therapy, just you and her and that spark that never really went away.

As Betsy wraps up, you stand, practically dragging Alexia out of the office. You thank Betsy on the way out, but you’re already halfway out the door before the words even leave your mouth.

And as soon as you’re out of sight, you push Alexia against the wall, her mouth on yours before you can even think about it. Her hands are in your hair, on your waist, tugging you closer, and you realise that maybe you don’t need therapy, or a broom cupboard, or anything else.

Maybe all you need is her.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

517 notes · View notes

starkidmunson · 11 months ago

Text

damned if i do (give a damn what people say)

It seems Steve Harrington is back off the market

The latest news on the pop star’s love life comes mere weeks after word of a fallout with longtime beau, journalist Nancy Wheeler. While neither party has confirmed the rumors, many of Harrington’s closest friends have hinted at the end of the relationship in interviews and on social media.

One thing everyone failed to mention, however, is that Harrington appears to have moved on and is now dating Corroded Coffin front-man, Eddie Munson.

The two have been friends for years, tracing as far back as the early 2010s, though it’s difficult to put a pin in exactly when they met. Neither are particularly vocal about their personal lives and often change the subject when the other comes up in an interview; a diversion tactic they’ve been playing for years.

Still, the alleged new couple has been spotted around some of Harrington’s favorite Manhattan hot spots several times over the past week.

The rockstar has a bit of an edgier vibe than Harrington’s usual flings; more outspoken and unpredictable than the ‘type’ Steve has typically shown an interest in; at least publicly.

Only time will tell if “Steddie” (so dubbed by the fans in support of the relationship) is true… and if they’ll last.

_____

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating Eddie,” Steve grumbled into the pillow on the floor of his hotel room. With a huff, he turned his head and looked off to the wall on the far side of the room. “I mean, it’s crazy that I can’t go out to dinner with anyone besides you and not be on a date.”

Robin leveled her foot to the center of his back, before shifting her weight onto it, then grinned in satisfaction as Steve groaned and his back popped loudly in several places. “It’s not like it’s that surprising. The tabloids went feral over you and Nancy breaking up after they were convinced you guys were already secretly married.” She shifted her weight back off him, dropping to sit cross-legged beside Steve. “Plus, it’s not that much of a stretch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, pushing himself up until he was sitting with his back against the wall, leg stretched out against Robin’s.

“It means you two have never looked at each other the way friends do. It makes sense that they’re picking that up.” Robin shrugged, brushing off her comment like it wasn’t shattering part of Steve’s bubble.

“We look at each other totally normally!”

The look Robin leveled Steve with had him pushing himself up off the floor and making his way toward the bathroom.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to start getting ready, but we don’t do anything normal friends wouldn’t because that’s what we are, Robin!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, or me?” Robin asked and sighed heavily when Steve slammed the bathroom door closed in response.

It was only about five minutes before there was a familiar knock at the door; three in quick succession, followed by two after a short pause.

“I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” was understandable, despite being muffled by the door, before Steve was racing out of the bathroom to beat Robin to undoing the locks and letting Eddie in. “Why didn’t you tell me we’re dating?” Eddie asked through a pout, leaned against the doorframe.

Steve rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, letting Eddie follow him inside, before pointing at Robin. “See! Very much not dating!”

“Well,” Eddie started, teasingly, only to get hit in the face with a pillow from Steve’s bed. “I’m kidding, Steve. It’s not even a bad thing. I mean, they’re actually being really fucking cool about you being bisexual.”

“Being out as bi doesn’t mean that every person, regardless of their gender, is automatically my love interest just because I breathed near them.” Steve snapped, obviously frustrated despite Eddie’s attempts to ease the situation.

“Hey. Don’t get mean. You know what’s not what Eddie meant.” Robin responded. Steve looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment, before he collapsed, face first, onto his mattress with a loud groan.

“C’mon, there’s no need to meltdown over this. If you want me to, I can post something about catching up with old friends to try to make it go away.” Eddie offered, gently, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from Steve.

It took a long beat, but Steve eventually lifted his head from his pillows and shrugged. “I don’t want to make you do anything like that. It’s fine. It’ll all work out in the end. I'm just having a weird day, I guess.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and when Steve didn’t elaborate, he turned his head to Robin, who shrugged.

“Nancy texted him this morning asking to not talk about her at shows and he’s been in a sour mood about it since.”

“Robin!” Steve groaned, pressing his face back into his pillow miserably.

“Have you been, though?” Eddie asked, confused. “Talking about her, I mean? I thought I was doing a decent job at getting the highlights and I have no memory of you dropping anything profound about you and Nance on any crowds.”

“Not directly,” Steve spoke into his pillow, before turning his head and staring at the wall as he answered. “I made a few comments about my songs. How to get someone back. How to gaslight someone into thinking you love them before letting everything go at the drop of a hat for one of your best friends.”

A silence settled over the room for a moment, before Eddie burst into giggles, which set Robin off. Eventually Steve joined in, turning his attention to the two of them with a heavy sigh.

“I guess I was an asshole about it, huh?”

“I think it’s justifiable.” Eddie offered, to which Robin nodded in agreement as she started toying with Steve’s hair. “If you feel like you’re going to say something about Nancy, you could always say something to me instead. Really confuse the shit out of everyone.” He teased, but Steve beamed.

“Wait, that’s actually a great idea.”

Robin looked apprehensive, holding her hands in the air. “Steve, you remember you just freaked out about this, right? And now you’re going to play into it? Publicly?”

“It’ll be fun. I’m not gonna say anything directly about Eddie. But just. References. And then we can watch the fans lose their shit on TikTok later.” Steve reasoned with a grin, and Eddie smiled back at him.

“I promise to spend the entire show dancing my ass off and singing along. For the bit.” Eddie said, his hand over his heart.

“You do that anyway, you’re just usually backstage.” Robin pointed out, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well, obviously, I have to join you and Dustin in the family tent tonight. Duh.”

“Yes!” Steve agreed with a laugh. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re both psychotic.”

_____

“Indianapolis, you're making me feel awfully special tonight.” Steve bit at his lip as he looked around Lucas Oil Stadium to thousands of people screaming back at him. “This is as close to a hometown show as I really get these days, so thank you for always making sure to remind me how special of a place home is.”

The music started to pick up again, but Steve kept talking. “I kind of spent the last few years coasting by without anyone paying too much attention, but now that I’m back on the road, everyone’s suddenly deeply invested in my life, and it's strange to be back so close to somewhere I called home for so long, in the same position I was in five years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair, before huffing out a laugh.

“But you guys, you've always been there. Unwavering in a way I will never be able to express my gratitude for.” he paused to glance around the crowd again, grinning as they cheered. “Not many people can say the same, you know?”

“Where is he going with this?” Dustin asked, leaning close to Robin, who shrugged, trying not to have a visible reaction. There were always cameras on them in public like this. Any reaction would be taken out of context and exaggerated.

“Did you see the tabloid rumors about Eddie and Steve?” She replied, and couldn’t help but smile as Dustin’s head whipped back forward to Steve.

“I mean, there’s Robbie, the kids I used to babysit. And, uh…” he trailed off, which Eddie took as his cue to move to the front of the family tent. “Maybe someone else. This one's for you.” Steve said, leaving the “you” ambiguous enough to be open for interpretation.

Eddie, hamming it up, made a heart with his hands, before immediately starting to headbang along to the love song next in the setlist.

_____

In a surprising twist, Dustin managed to wait until the security team had moved them out of the crowd and behind the stage with the crew nearly two hours later before his outburst.

“What the fuck?!” He asked as soon as the were away from the crowd. “Why are you two playing into this? It’s just going to get more headlines and attention on the two of you, which neither of you usually like!”

“But it’s different if it’s on our terms.” Eddie responded, not even looking up from his phone as he answered Dustin.

“Is it, though? Is it really on your terms if it’s not even true?” Dustin sounded exasperated, and while Robin could relate, she was planning on sitting this one out until Eddie shoved his phone into her face.

“It’s already on TikTok. 4 videos in.” He said with a grin as Robin watched Eddie make a hand heart toward the stage before his hair started flopping all over as he sang along. The clip was captioned “steddie is real!!!”

“So you’re proud you’re deceiving fans?” She asked, which made Eddie’s grin fall.

“Don't be so dramatic,” Steve called as he approached from the stage exit. He was covered in sweat and still in his performance clothes, holding a half empty water bottle. “It’s all in good fun. They never need to know if it was real or not.”

“I think you’re downplaying this by a lot. What happens the next time one of you is seen out on a date?” Dustin pressed, and continued despite the way Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean it, an honest to god date. People are going to lose their minds, trying to figure out what broke up Steve and Eddie, when you were never even together in the first place! They’ll turn you against each other, they always do. And if you weren’t dating, isn’t that just as bad of a look?”

“Woah. Henderson. Chill. It’ll be fine, man. You’re WAY overthinking this.” Eddie said, before he grinned at Steve. “Could you see my hand heart from the stage?”

“I could. Did you catch the wink I sent your way at the end of the song?”

“I did, nice touch! I patted my hand over my heart, so maybe that’ll end up on social, too.”

“I’m going to throw myself into the White River.” Dustin groans loudly, to a round of laughs and elbow nudges.

_____

Steve could pinpoint the exact moment things finally felt out of hand two weeks later.

He was getting ready for the show that will wrap up his first weekend at his “home away from home” in 5 years when Eddie texted him about being late to that night’s show.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Eddie had missed the last two shows in Chicago

It shouldn’t matter.

Eddie’d been there, religiously, at the 4 shows before Chicago on the tour, and 6 others before that when his band wasn’t playing their own concerts. Steve even made 3 trips of his own to Corroded Coffin shows, around his own obligations.

But it still made him frown at his phone for a moment too long. Long enough Robin caught him.

“More headlines about Steddie?” She asked, slipping the phone from his hands before he could stop her. When she read over the message, though, her expression softened. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” Steve rushed out, snatching his phone back and shoving it into his pocket. “It’s fine. I’m not upset, there’s no reason to feel sorry. Besides, he just said he’ll be late, he didn’t say he isn’t coming.”

“Would you be upset if he wasn’t coming, then?” Robin asked. Steve glared daggers at her, and sighed when she held her hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, honestly.

___

The intro tape was just about to start as Steve was making his usual trek toward his starting point, when he heard someone running and calling his name from behind him, rather than out in the crowd. He paused and turned, to see Eddie rushing toward him.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to see that I made it before you went on!” He was out of breath, his hair more wild from running than usual, and Steve…

Well, frankly, Steve was tired of pretending like Eddie wasn’t the hottest person he’d ever seen.

So Steve met Eddie halfway, threw his arms around his neck and pressed their lips together in a move Eddie seemed to have anticipated because he wasted no time returning the favor.

It was only Steve’s cue music that had him breaking away, biting at his lip and grinning at Eddie, who grinned back at him, before using the hands he’d placed on Steve’s waist at some point in the interaction to turn Steve toward the stage.

“Go, before you miss the start of your own show, superstar. I’ll still be here after.” Eddie said.

“Promise?” Steve called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the stage’s catwalk.

“Cross my heart, big boy.” Eddie drew an x over his heart for dramatic effect, then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Steve run to make it to his place on time.

#steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Robin Buckley #Dustin Henderson #popstar!steve #rockstar!eddie #I don’t know what this is #I think it might be inspired by some of the early eras tour matty and Taylor chaos #but idk lmao #hopefully this finds an audience who enjoys it #starkidmunson writes

1K notes · View notes

osamucide · 5 months ago

Text

gladly

gladly i’ll burn up for you if you burn up for me

NSFW—MINORS DNI

wc: 1.2k

cw: dazai x gn!reader, explicit sexual content, no plot just horny and fluffy, established relationship, somno(?)(sleepy, anyway), handjob, grinding, nipple play, use of “baby,” “darling,” pillow princess dazai my most beloved

reid: this position bruh i’m going to go so feral that i eat my own hand. not the smut i intended to publish next but apparently the smut i needed to publish next. a little something short while i put off a longer dazai smut. i <3 soft lazy dazai enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

You know mornings like this should be rarer than they are.

His charming insistence, however muted by his sleep-addled laziness, hardly ever fails on you. In fact, it all might make him more tempting—that, the warmth of newly recharged bodies, the honey behind his drooping eyelids, the wandering of his hands and rolling of his hips against yours that feels so sweetly and foreignly unmapped and confused, yes, it’s equal parts all those things and you’re sure some others that you can’t conjure up into words through your early-hour fog. Yes, very few things Osamu ever does without meticulous planning, but he does let a certain vulnerability crack through on mornings like this, a vulnerability that’s evident in between his parting lips and the soft, unpracticed whines that live and die there. And yes, you’re one of the primary reasons—if not the primary reason—Osamu’s so often late to show up to work, but it’s difficult for you to feel guilty when your senses find their way back to the waking realm amongst his pretty sounds rumbling from his chest into your ear, his back arching back against your touch, and his soft brown hair splayed around his head like a halo.

The rational side of you should be dragging your dear boyfriend up and out of bed but it appears to still be asleep as you let your fingertips creep beneath his waistband. You shut the morning light out in favor of pressing your eyes beneath his collarbone; your thumb finds his tip, and if you weren't on the threshold of consciousness you would let out a giggle at the way his breath catches. You can feel Osamu's fingers curling tenderly around your wrist—a silent plea for you to keep going, touch him more, and you'll oblige, but you have to kiss the triangle of his shoulder first, so you do; your tongue deftly finds his nipple, and he's so pliant half-beneath you that you can slot his thigh between both of your own—it’s all you'll need, you can tell, as his head dips to the side on the pillow to catch a half-lidded glimpse of you working him into a mess so early and so easily. He'll return the favor without even trying, just by laying there and letting you move the way you do; he's so gorgeous all bleary from slumber, palming your lower back to guide you against him. You move. You move, looking up at him like he’s an angel, and his vision melts to warm darkness again. It's all he'll need, too.

You’d think he was falling back asleep if it wasn’t for the slow and steady bucking of his hips up into your hand. Winding your fingers around his base elicits a whine from his diaphragm—one you can hear against him as your own eyes roll shut and your tongue continues to idle. It’s all so natural, the way you stroke him, lick him, grind on him, that you feel yourself slipping back into unconsciousness. It’s his noises that you hang on for.

He’s far from alert, but words tumble out in whispers.

“Baby, it feels so good, don’t stop…”

You hum, more in response to his mumblings and less from the friction you create against his thigh; nonetheless, you’re sensitive, and as you keep rhythm along his cock he flexes against you and the way that you feel, splitting the line of slumber and wakefulness and writhing hotly against your lover, is divine.

You wish you could live in this kind of moment for the rest of your life. Too often you find yourself overwhelmed; regrettably and even more often you find Osamu overwhelmed. It’s never so obvious to anyone as it is to you, so he doesn’t tend to let on to anyone but you, and maybe that’s why you keep things like this sacred, because for once he doesn’t seem to be thinking, analyzing, inquiring, even how he does when you regularly have sex—forever the pleaser, he’s always looking to you with eyes asking questions like is it enough? Even outside of sex, god, in every aspect—you know he never stops wondering the same thing about himself: is it enough? Does it feel good? Am I enough? And the answer you give him is always a resounding yes, and you want so badly for him to believe you because he’s just as much your angel as you are his. You hope that mornings like this communicate it louder than your reassurances can. Your pleasure—in everything, in life—is so vividly amplified by his wellness, his peace, his own pleasure. You love him so deeply. He loves you like a stray cat finally living in comfort. You’ll never let a morning like this slip.

“Right there, right there,” he encourages as you squeeze just below his tip; his head lolls from side to side almost as if he’s dreaming (sometimes he thinks he is with you) and you track his movements through your own bliss, dragging your hips back and forth desperately as you double down on the spot that forces full-bodied moans from his pretty mouth. He’s close, he begs you; you’re frantic on his thigh, feeling yourself cum in a haze that has him tensing—you grind harder, harder, harder, sighing out his name until you’re spent so you can prop yourself up on your elbow to watch his face in the thickly-curtained sunlight.

“Oh, fuck, fuck— fuhhh— ah, uh-huh, ah—”

His eyes flicker open to catch your tired smile and he’s cumming—his grip on your ass is the only thing grounding him as his jaw falls slack, your lashes flutter in pure satisfaction, and he twitches, sent to the clouds by his beloved who looks at him with such adoration that he catches himself believing for a second that he must be beautiful; you work incredible magic on him. His brain and his body, both so used to neglect and abuse, finally feel like fruitful grounds for love. He finally feels whole as his cum drips down your fingers.

It is then that you do giggle and lean down to place a quick kiss to his nipple; he’s breathless, pink in the face, and you know you couldn’t love him more, and yet you will as each second passes.

Osamu brings his hand up to your hair, and your next kiss lands on his lips as he wills you down. It’s tender and lasts much longer than expected—you almost start your hips against him again, but the snoozed alarm at your bedside rings for the fourth time. You glance over. He was supposed to be out the door five minutes ago.

“Oh, shut it off,” he groans resentfully.

“As if.” You press one more kiss to his cheek before you unpeel yourself from him and punch the ringer into silence. “I’ll put coffee on.”

“Shower with me before I go, please.” He rubs his eyes and sits up. You strip out of your sticky shorts.

“Of course, darling.”

You pad to the kitchen. He watches you go with a warmth he didn’t know himself to be capable of.

And a smirk.

Maybe he can talk you into one more round in the bathroom.

#with love—reid #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #dazai smut #nnnsfw.ᐟ

449 notes · View notes

onlygarden · 5 months ago

Text

[my precious little petal] - yang jungwon

genre: smut

description: sub jungwon, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (male receiving), tiny bit of biting. jungwon is cute and whiny hehe

a/n: this fic is my reaction to those mirror pics jungwon posted a few days ago in that tanktop....... i suffered so much after seeing that and i finally put most of my thoughts into words heheh. also, i think this answers a few of the requests i received, so i hope you all thoroughly enjoy this : ]

divider: @dollywons <3

jungwon feels like his body is being enveloped in a pool of silk, each of his senses and nerve endings being stroked so gently, slowly, and smoothly. each and every goosebump underneath his skin is being lured from sleep, with such delicacy, rising eagerly towards the perpetrator of his pleasure; you, the only woman who could ever reduce him to such a desperate little trembling petal. his eyes swelled with adoration, amazement, and delirium as he helplessly watches each of your movements.

your clothed hips settle flush against jungwon’s, his hardening cock throbbing immediately upon contact. a wispy gasp escapes jungwon’s mouth, the pleasured air flying from his lips involuntarily. his hands reflexively fly towards your hips, as if there were magnets attached to them.

“look at me baby,” your voice interrupts him from his daze of anticipation and fascination, and he obediently tears his eyes from your hips to meet your fond gaze.

you lean towards him, his eyes slowly closing as you draw closer, and you revel in the feeling of his velvety lips against yours. they truly felt like a flower petal.

you slide your tongue into his mouth, swirling and gliding it along his, enjoying the way his breathing quickened beneath you. when you begin languidly grinding your hips against him, jungwon bucks up into you on impulse; he could never dream of having control over the way his body reacted to you. jungwon’s nails dig into your hips, his breathing traveling in and out of his nose quicker by the second as your movements continued.

you pull away from his lips, opening your eyes to soak in his expression. his lips were so swollen and pouty, and his eyelids drooped from the heaviness of the pleasure you showered him in. “noona..” he breathes out.

“what is it, baby?” you ask him, smirking, trailing your finger along his exposed collarbone in the tank top he wore. the tank top that got him into the position he’s in now.

“i need you….” he tells you, craving so much more than what you’re doing to him now, but still enjoying every second of it.

“just be patient, baby,” you respond. but for jungwon, patience is the most difficult skill to master when you’re on top of him.

you still the movement of your hips, shifting slightly to place kisses along his jaw and down his neck. he’s breathing heavy, his hands coming up to grip onto your shoulders as you suck on the space between his neck and shoulder. your tongue slides up jungwon’s neck until you reach his earlobe, flicking against it to gauge his reaction. he shivers, whining so breathily, making you want to completely devour him.

“lean up a little bit baby,” you direct him, and his body obliges before his mind even registers your words.

you grab the hem of his shirt, sliding it up and pulling it over his head. jungwon lifts his arms to allow you to undress him, his body eager to lay bare before you.

once his body relaxes again, you lick along his collarbone, biting a piece of the skin that rested upon it gently. a startled, breathy ‘ah’ leaves jungwons lips at your sudden intrusion on his skin.

you begin to kiss down the space between his broad chest, traveling down to his toned, slim stomach. unable to resist the urge again, your tongue darts out to glide along the lovely skin on his stomach. jungwon whines, further igniting the desire within you, as you delight in the sensation of his muscles twitching and quivering beneath your slick tongue.

kissing along the waistline of his sweatpants, you intend to prolong the inevitable action of sliding his pants down for as long as possible, wanting to drive the already quivering jungwon into a pitiful frenzy.

“b-baby, please,” he begs. he’s so flustered, his breathing refusing to settle down.

“please what, baby? what is it that you need?” you know exactly what he needs, but you cannot allow the gratification of the words tumbling from his mouth to pass you by.

jungwon’s cheeks are dusted with a subtle pink, his bottom lip sliding underneath his teeth as he opens his mouth to answer you. “your mouth.. baby. please i need your mouth so bad..” he answers, and his imaginary resolve is brutally shattered; not that he would ever even pretend to resist you.

“of course, baby, you’re so cute,” you tell him, his face heating up further from the praise you bestow onto him. it was such an innocent word, and you always used it to describe him, but the way you tossed the word out under such obscene circumstances made him lose the breath in his lungs.

you place your index fingers underneath his waistband, skimming beneath his pants until they land on either side of his hips. he’s still breathing so heavily, finding more difficulty in withstanding your teasing for much longer. answering his pleas, you pull his sweatpants down, and his hips lift slightly to allow you to remove them completely.

his cock meets your wicked eyes, and your stomach is set ablaze at the way he strains against the confines of his boxers. you notice a darkened patch, pleasantly satisfied by his aching need for you making itself known in the way his precum caused dampness to spread along his boxers.

you plant your tongue flat against the damp spot, and his cock jolts at the delicious contact. your mouth waters as you register the salty taste of his precious essence.

jungwon whines again, sounding so strained and breathy that you just couldn’t wait to pour an abundance of immense pleasure onto him any longer.

you curl your fingers underneath his boxers, slowly dragging them down and tossing them aside. jungwon’s cock was always such a pretty sight to admire; he was extended upwards, fully sprung for you, the arousing light you provided always guiding him to bloom freely.

his cock jumped ardently in anticipation as you wrap your hand around his shaft. his breathing gains volume as you leisurely lick the underside of his cock, resulting in more precum gushing from his slit. jungwon gasps unabashedly at the sensation of your tongue against him.

you fully envelop his beautiful, pleading cock into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him and your nose brushing against the skin of his lower stomach as your throat constricts around his tip. jungwon’s breathing comes in short, shallow pants as you begin to massage the underside of him with your tongue. impulse electrifies him and his hips jolt upwards, the warmth and slipperiness of your mouth gaining full control of his movements.

you keep your lips wrapped around him, still sucking gently as you pull your mouth off his length slowly. your mouth was already watering for the ravishing sight before you, and you gather saliva on your tongue before spitting onto his tip, allowing it to combine filthily with his precum, and watching patiently as it rolled down the side of his length. jungwon whines impatiently, and you simply look up at him, smirking.

you decide to tease him further, the enjoyment you gained from his squirming body and pleading expression never fading. you gather more saliva on your tongue, opening your mouth and rolling your tongue out, allowing the saliva to glide down and drip onto his tip.

jungwon can hardly withstand the sight and the sensation, his cock throbbing and his body shuddering as he attempted to prevent his sanity from bursting at the seams.

“hah, n-noona, please!” he breathes out, moans seeping through his words.

noona. you’re certain he’s unaware just how feverish your body feels whenever that word tumbles out of his mouth.

you begin stroking his cock, spreading the mixture of saliva and precum along him, quickening your pace faintly as his breath hitches and he cries out to you softly. his hands reach out to dig into your shoulders, pathetically scratching at your back and tugging at the shirt you wore. good god, the sight of him behaving this way was driving you absolutely insane. he was so needy, so helpless, and so pitiful, clinging onto you as if you were his source of life.

your mouth engulfs him again, and he moans with each breath he takes as you begin to bob along his length at a steady pace. after gliding your mouth all the way down the expanse of his cock and allowing him to make contact with the back of your throat, you pulled your mouth back up sucking him with just enough tenacity. you continue your actions until his moans increase in volume, sounding notably strained, and his fingers thread into you hair.

“ah, fuck! noona, i’m close, i’m-” jungwon’s eyes snap open as you snatch the ecstasy of your mouth away from him, leaving him reeling and viciously pent up. “b-baby! keep going, please!” he begs, his hands moving to your shirt to tug at it, exasperation and frustration leaking through his words. he begins bucking up against your cheek, beyond the realm of desperation for your touch. you simply smirk at him, receiving the exact reaction you were hoping for.

“i like making you wait, baby,” you tell him calmly, and his cock twitches hard at your words and your sinful expression.

jungwon gasps as your mouth takes him in again. you waste no time in quickening your pace, your hand and mouth rhythmically moving along his cock, and your idle hand moving to fondle his balls.

“oh god, oh fuck!” jungwon moans, babbling and stuttering out half sentences as you submerge his fragile little senses in so much pleasure.

your tongue swirls around his tip, your movements unfaltering as jungwon nears his climax once more.

“n-noona! don’t stop, so close!” jungwon announces hurriedly, the moans which left him nearly making his words incoherent.

your pace quickens, and jungwon’s body responds as his hips buck towards you uncontrollably, his cum beginning to spill into your mouth. jungwon is writhing as intense pleasure courses through every imaginable crevice of his body, his eyebrows drawing inward as noisy, stuttered moans leave his mouth.

your movements slow down, and you stroke him gently as his mind and body struggle to regain composure from the orgasm you gave him. you swallow every drop of his cum, leaning back down to lick his cock clean of the cum that leaked out of your mouth when he came so plentifully.

jungwon’s eyes squeeze shut at the sensation. he’s writhing, his hips jerking upwards as his body becomes so sensitive that the lightest touch from you sends tremors of unbearable pleasure throughout his body.

you gaze at him, smiling subtly and fondly, admiring the way his chest rises rapidly as he attempts to regain control of his breathing, the way his face is notably flushed and a bit sweaty, and the way his cock still twitches from the pleasure he received.

you lift your body off of him, standing up to remove your clothing. jungwon’s exhausted eyes examine each subtle movement of your body, his face and neck beginning to heat up in anticipation.

jungwon’s body is still attempting to recover from your tongue work when you return to his lap, settling your silky cunt onto his length.

“n-no more, please! can’t take it,” he manages to say, much to your surprise, as he bites onto his bottom lip. his eyes shine with a plead for you to stop, simultaneously begging you to continue since he never wants this moment with you to end.

you lean closer to him, stroking his flushed cheek with your thumb. “baby, you’re not even crying yet, i know you can take more,” you tell him, entertained by his pleas.

you place your lips on his, shoving your tongue into his mouth again, indulging in his weary response to your kiss. you begin grinding your hips along his length, spreading your essence along him, feeling him grow completely stiff beneath you once more.

jungwon cries into your mouth, his hands twitching as if he desired to grab onto your hips, but he’s already so spent from your previous actions that he’s unable to will them to leave his sides.

you pull back, swallowing the feeble breaths and whimpers that left jungwon’s mouth, and begin to line his precious, aching cock up with your entrance.

jungwon’s drained body lay readily beneath you, an endless spring for you to indulge in.

you sink down onto him, engulfing him in your drenched pussy, flooding his cock with a wet warmth that he can never grow accustomed to. you were surrounding him, overwhelming him, but he absolutely loved to drown within your lavish fountain.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” choked, breathy moans leave jungwon’s mouth, and he’s not sure his body is able to comprehend how good you’re making him feel in this moment.

you begin gliding along him, moving your hips up and down lusciously, and jungwon’s senses start to blur as you stimulate him far outside of the range of his limitations.

“you’re doing good, baby..” you tell him, finding the way he’s trying so hard to hold himself together endlessly endearing.

you cannot ignore the pleasure he brings you, his perfect cock filling you up so well, sliding against spots inside of you that you could never hope to reach without him. he sends your body to such unimaginable heights by simply laying back and allowing you to use him, and you’re utterly astonished by him.

“n-noona, you feel so fucking good..!” he babbles, finally willing his hands to fall limply onto your hips, swimming in a pit of incomprehensible bliss, god you were just heaven to him.

you speed your hips up, eager to send jungwon soaring to staggering heights of rapture and delight.

“p-please! please! i need to-” he announces, tears beginning to pool above his eyelid, waiting patiently to fall. he can hardly bear to form coherent thoughts as the sensation of your pussy sends him to a state of wild hysterics. his climax is approaching him hastily, and he knows he can’t hold out any longer.

“let go, baby, don’t hold it in,” you assure him, feeling your own orgasm as it prepares to crash into you.

jungwon’s mouth falls open and he trembles violently, sobbing as he writhes under the intense pleasure of his orgasm. the initial silence as his orgasm hits him is shattered by a series of loud moans erupting from his mouth so delectably.

his hips buck into you beyond his authority as he continues to spill into you, and he musters the strength to squeeze onto your hips, his hands latching onto them in a nonverbal plea.

you continue to move your hips, gliding along him as you seek your climax, circling your clit as it finally sweeps over you with fervor. you moan loudly and shakily, your legs trembling a bit as you slow down, eventually bringing yourself to a complete stop.

you lean down, placing an affectionate kiss onto jungwon’s plump lips, bringing your hands up to wipe his fallen tears away. you place kisses over his entire face, wanting to shower him in bounds of tender adoration after wearing his body out.

“you did well, baby. you were so cute, you know?” you tell him, smoothing a few damp strands of hair out of his face, wanting nothing obstructing such a breathtaking view.

he simply smiles tiredly at you, telling you to ‘stop it,’ making you giggle.

“i love you,” you say, continuing to smile fondly at him, squishing his face with your hand momentarily.

“i love you, baby,” he returns effortlessly, his eyes holding more appreciation and love for you than they can even handle. he runs his hands along your back, the only movement his body can manage after your delightful torture. jungwon makes it so clear that he’s completely content and at ease with you.

553 notes · View notes

thesilmarillionblog · 6 months ago

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 7

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy gets hurt, anxious reader, mention of torture

Word Count: 3373

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Your senses began to awaken when a hand removed the mask covering your face. Your body felt numb and lightheaded, making it difficult for you to see anything, even if you were able to free your hands from the tight handcuffs. Your legs felt like jelly, and it felt like all of your strength had been stolen away. From a distance, you heard someone calling your name, but you had no idea who it was. Everything was terribly cloudy, complex, and hazy.

The voice attempting to communicate with you was most likely that of another evil scientist who had come to torture you and grab more samples from you. You thought, Oh, my god. How did things turn out for you? How much time have you spent here? Months, weeks, or a year? You struggled to remember every memory; your head hurt so much that you grimaced.

Ben snarled at Butcher, “Give me your fucking coat,” trying to quickly cover your body with his own as he saw you were only wearing a very short, thin, filthy dress that smelt terrible.

Ben said, “You still look beautiful, you know, but you definitely need a good and long shower, baby,” as he saw you straining to completely awaken. He kept observing your facial expressions, fascinated and concerned at the same time, since you appeared so innocent and confused in the metal box. You may have gotten the same upgrades as him, given his newfound abilities, and if he wasn't careful with you, you could do a lot of damage. If it were the same for you, though, he could manage the energy in your chest with ease.

You smelled blood everywhere and felt panicked the moment the smoke burned your eyes and made it difficult for you to see properly. Your body shook from anxiety and terror. All around you, you heard faint whimpers and shallow breathing that sounded like they were ready to pass away. The smell of death and pain filled that place. You knew you had to leave this torture house as soon as you could, while you were still able to. You used all of your strength to push the body in front of you against the wall and across the room harshly while that stranger forced you to put on a coat.

Ben groaned, “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” as he realized he was through the wall. With a raised eyebrow, he grinned to himself. It wouldn't be that simple, he realized. After all, you were his equal.

Butcher realized that this wouldn't go away as he had hoped and that he perhaps could have made a small mistake, and he took a step back in terror. He didn't dare get involved because he wasn't on Temp-V.

You coughed in between clouds of smoke, and the heavy blood all over the area made your face drop. Indeed, you were once more in danger, and those creatures undoubtedly had new plans for you. You halted briefly as hot blood beneath your boots stopped you from continuing your frantic search for the exit. There were corpses all throughout the place, and they undoubtedly belonged to those people who had tormented you and forced you to sleep for who knows how long.

“At this point, what will you do? Will she explode similarly to you or worse?” Ben stood up from the location he was thrown into, as Butcher asked.

Ben shook his head, scrubbing away the dusk and stones from his hair and clothes. “Stop whining like a bitch,” he shouted loudly. “I can handle this. She's just confused.”

You started to move out the door, but powerful hands quickly grabbed your waist and held your arms, restricting your movements just like the day you were tricked. You cried out, “Let me go,” as your heart raced in anticipation of being confinted or, worse, subjected to more agony.

You tried everything to pull yourself out of the desperate situation, feeling terrified and perplexed, but his grasp held you tightly, and it was strangely stronger than yours.

A voice called out to your ear from behind you, “Calm down.” Once you found out, you knew it belonged to the man who once acted like he cared about you, then tossed you aside and tricked you with his new lover. That was when you truly realized what was going on. If your supe hearing sense wasn't playing tricks on you, it belonged to Ben.

“I want to get you out of here, sweetheart. I know how you are feeling, but stop resisting. Trust me.”

Ben spoke to you like he was whispering, yet you didn't feel at all at ease. Your body stiffened at the hurtful memories of him casting you aside, teaming up with Countess, and betraying you. He was the one who, along with Crimson Countess, imprisoned you in that icy, cruel location and made you endure unending suffering. His soothing murmurs sounded poisonous to the ears.

You fought to break free from his embrace as fury overtook the entirety of your being, but he applied even more force to you. Your gaze was fixed on the door when he settled his ruthless hold around your back, pressing his chest against your back to calm you. You felt so far away, yet so near to freedom.

“It seems she's not very happy to see you, huh?” With a sly smile, Butcher smirked to Ben. “We must immediately leave this place. Any suggestions?”

Ben used the mask he had removed from your face moments before to cover your face once more, exposing you to the same smoke, while he managed to get a hold of both of your arms. You started to cry because you were horrified and felt betrayed, and your heart began to race since you had no idea what he would do to you. How come he was even abusing you in this way?

You were still in his grasp as Ben leaned his head against yours, made you smell the smoke flowing from the mask, and whispered, “Sorry for this, baby. I wouldn't hurt you; I don't mean to. Just stay calm.”

Despite how much you tried to resist it, you have never felt more helpless against him. Tears were streaming down your face, and your eyes began to close. You wanted to talk to him right then and there and attempt to figure out what was bothering him so much about you. Though you planned to speak to him, the faint sound of his name vanished beneath the mask as a deep sleep overtook your already exhausted body.

“Thought you wanted to free her?” Butcher replied in a mocking voice as he observed Ben tightly holding the mask to your face while observing the painful look on your face. With an serious tone, Butcher continued, “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

When Butcher saw you two like that, he was surprised. All he knew was that everyone who knew them acknowledged Soldier Boy and Countess's romantic relationship. At the time, they were the most well-known couple. He was unaware of your relationship with Soldier Boy. As long as Ben followed through on his commitment to kill Homelander, he could care less about the possibility that it was an affair, something between you, or something else. He'd take care of other stuff later.

Ben yelled, “Fuck off,” in a harsh tone. “Without this mask, we can't take her out like that. Until we get home, I'll keep her asleep.”

“And how on earth will you do that, Mr. Loverman?”

Ben snapped, “Take that fucking tube,” and softened his hands immediately after applying the mask to your face a little too forcefully. While you were still a supe and wouldn't be easily wounded, he felt a little bad for unleashing his strength on you. You're being a supe did not, however, mean that using force against you was acceptable. “You will carry it while I keep that mask on her face till we get to the car.”

Butcher followed Ben's instructions and grabbed the tube Ben mentioned. As he strained to hold the tube steady on his shoulders, Butcher muttered a groan and said, “This shit is a bit too heavy.”

Even though he was stronger than the majority of other humans even in his human form, Butcher found it difficult to carry the tube. His jaw clenched and his muscles tautened as he bore it.

Ben was furious and was trying to find a method to carry you as he made sure the mask stayed on your face and forced you to stay asleep. “Be a fucking real man for a second,” he cursed. Ben lifted you in his arms and carried you in bridal carry while the other hand remained still on the mask.

“I should have used Temp-V,” Butcher complained once again as he followed Ben, who was making his way out of the room in quick steps, while you slept peacefully in his arms.

“Maybe you should just grow your dick,” Ben remarked as he headed for the car after getting a deep breath of fresh air. Sitting in the rear now, Hughie was staring at them, mouth agape with worry, seeing you in Soldier Boy's arms, blissfully asleep.

Hughie tried to ask questions, but Ben shot him an angry glare and said, “Why the fuck are you waiting there? Fucking move.”

Hughie took a step forward and turned around without uttering a word. He watched, worried, as Butcher set down a big tupe on the seat next to Ben, who had come into the car, put you on his lap, and covered your face with a mask.

“Let’s fucking get the fuck out of there,” Butcher murmered after he gave a look to Ben and you.

Ben tenderly laid your body on his bed, and Butcher and Hughie followed him inside his room, their eyes wide with curiosity.

“What happened to her?” Hughie asked Butcher and Ben, but neither of them responded.

In the hopes that you would be more at ease, Ben removed the mask from your face and waited for you to wake up once more. He saw you gently open your eyes, and his heart raced. Uncertain of your response, Butcher and Hughie put some distance between them.

You opened your eyes and let out a painful moan. When everything became clear to your sight at last, it was then that you realized you were lying in a bed that was comfy.

Ben slowly sat down next to you, placing his large hands on yours and muttering in a dry voice, “Everything's good; you're good.”

Was it truly good, though?

With a feeble voice, you asked, “Ben?” while keeping your gaze on his green ones. He didn't look quite the same as when you last saw him. His beard gave him a more serious, grown-up appearance. “What's going on over here?”

The two strangers who were observing you intently caught your attention, and they inhaled deeply. Ben was about to grab your hand, but you quickly moved to put some distance between you and avoid his touch. You smelled a lot worse than you looked, and you were wearing a long, black coat. You checked your body, and your face wrinkled with loathing. Oh god.. For how long has it been?

You grimaced, gave Ben a fierce gaze, and asked, “How could you have done this to me?” before he could say anything more.

Ben was briefly taken aback, but he wasn't shocked that you believed he was the one who had fooled and deceived you, placing you in such a horrible situation for decades—even though it had all been Vought's evil shit all along.

"Course it wasn't me." Ben immediately defended himself, gazing over your body. “I didn't even know,” he said.

You raised your hand to interrupt him before he could say any more lies, saying, “I just need a shower right now.”

You were careful not to touch Ben while he nodded and apologized in a low voice as he attempted to assist you in standing up. The two guys across the room were simply silently waiting and observing you when Ben sent them an angry glare, and they quickly left the room. Though you were ignorant of the dynamics amongst the three of them, you knew you needed to use caution if they were Ben's new fellow soldiers. In the end, you had no understanding of what was going on, and you received no change from anyone.

There was an unsettling silence the two of you had while you were alone in the room, but he soon showed you the bathroom.

You murmured, gently keeping the coat against your body, “I need new clothes.” After everything that happened to you, you shouldn't have been concerned about how you looked, but you were unable to stop it. It was a natural inclination, after all, to feel clean.

Ben smiled warmly at your hesitant attitude as he went to the wardrob with pride and showed you the t-shirt, underwear and all he had previously purchased for you with Butcher's money. He wanted you to see how interested and ready he was to start things again with you, as he had already given it much thought. Not only did he take your suit from Legend, but he promised to display it to you later. Your suit wasn't a priority, considering that the chaos all around you had already overwhelmed you.

“I'll be waiting downstairs, so we can talk about what happened properly,” Ben stated after clearing his throat. Then, you took the clothes from his hands and entered the bathroom, locking the door as though someone would dare to interrupt.

You took the longest shower of your life, showered head to toe, put on the clothes Ben bought you, and headed downstairs. Ben and two strangers were watching the news on TV, which seemed a little unusual because it was so modern.

Ben did not make a scene, even though his face fell when he saw you sitting on the couch, distant from him. As you began to watch the news, you glanced at the gadget that Hughie was holding and clicked on it while wearing a serious expression. Then you turned to face Ben and requested, “Tell me slowly, what year we are in?” in a low voice.

With rush, Butcher responded, “It's 2022.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, placing your hand over your forehead, while continuing to stare at the TV and gawking at all the strange things you had never seen before. Ben had stole your years.

Ben instantly spoke up and stated once more in a firm voice, “I didn't do this to you. Vought deceived both of us. Also, it has been about four days since those fuckfaces rescued me in Russia.”

“You’re welcome,” Butcher said, sipping his whiskey.

You questioned Ben once more in a suspicious tone, “How did you even find out what happened to me?” You had plenty time to ask all the thousand questions you had, but you still had priorities.

Ben's gaze strayed as he thought about sitting next to you and making a physical connection to ensure you listened him properly without you passing judgment on him, but he remained where he was. He never considered discussing Crimson again, but it seems that it was inescapable.

Ben only said, “I learned it from Crimson Countess,” trying not to show how insecure he was. He and the Countess had already done you an immense amount of pain.

With a sad smile, you nodded meaningfully and said, “Of course she'd be the first to pay a visit.”

She remained his main concern even after all this time and your efforts on his behalf. But now it means absolutely nothing. While you were sleeping, so many years had gone by, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. You felt like you had undergone a complete change from the person you knew in the past.

“It’s not what you think,” Ben said seeing your disappointed face.

“I really don’t care, Ben,” you simply said with all sincerity. You weren’t lying.

Although it was difficult to accept their relationship and everything that had happened in the past, you now felt a little foolish for not just letting go. In addition, you spent years in a metal box and were tortured because of your naive attitude. You felt lost, and you had nothing now. You were left without even a place to go.

“Do you have something to eat?” you shyly asked Hughie, who had a humble and kind expression on his face. You have questions, for sure, but you needed to eat something first.

Hughie quickly said, “Sure, we can order something.” And you thanked him with a smile on your face.

Ben took a deep breath and decided not to press the issue because he thought you were a little too sensitive and hungry. His whole body was itching to sit next to you, and his eyes never left you. He was never fully aware of how much his body yearned for your attention and touch. Perhaps since so many years had passed between you, this need and yearning had always existed. But you were not the woman he had known before, and your gentle but determined attempts to keep him at a distance disturbed him.

You leaned back as you ignored Ben’s gaze on you and tried to focused on the TV to see how much the world has changed.

“I visited her to ask what happened to you,” Ben suddenly said with a rough voice.

Without getting into an argument, you just nodded and carried on watching TV, saying, “Okay.”

There was a headline that said, ‘Soldier Boy's terror killed at least 50 people in a week,’ when the information first came on television.

Ben cursed loudly, and you murmered, “What?”

You were all fixated on the reporter commenting on the extent of Ben's damage to Ohio and New York while Butcher turned up the voice of the TV. You gasped as you watched an entirely wrecked street in New York and heard injured people telling the TV reporter how far Ben's explosion was heard from and how badly he damaged the lives of everyone inside, killing 19 people, including children.

Ben's face was unreadable as he stared at the television, lost in thoughts and feeling a weight of guilt in his chest. He had no intention of blowing up in the first place. He was aware that the Russian song was the reason behind his unexpected outburst in the middle of the street. He had no feelings of hostility toward people.

When they also displayed the doctor's picture on the screen—who was heavily involved in your torture—your lips parted in disbelief. The reporter was telling the public that Soldier Boy had blown up his house and him as well.

“What have you done?” you murmered to Ben whose lethal green eyes were fixed on yours.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

And Happy Pride Month to my dearest readers and everyone! -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

453 notes · View notes