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tonycries · 3 months ago

Text

Heaven - N.K.

Synopsis. An aIpha? Please, your arranged husband was the perfect gentleman - soft, strong, shy to even look your way and- and damn feraI when he’s in rút?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, secretly aIpha! Nanami, arranged marriage, OMÉGAVERSE AU, rúts, down bad Nanami, bréeding kínk, he’s FÉRAL, manhandIing, face-sítting (fem rec.), dúmbifícation, HEADLOCKS, making it fit, matíng presses, office s, breaking furniture, overstím, knots, matíng bites, cúmplay, very pússydrúnk Nanami, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.2k

A/N. BAD BOYS BRING HEAVEN TO YOUUU-

“Ijichi, I’m at the front desk- where’s everyone else?”

After marrying Nanami Kento, it wasn’t strange for you to become accustomed to visiting him at work - usually with one of your own business contracts, or a cute lil’ lunch for him and his bustling employees.

But what was strange was the hollow, empty company lobby that greets you today.

The reception, the cubicles, the elevator- you couldn’t find a single soul here other than you. Strange.

“...e-evacuated.”

“What?” You’re furrowing your brows at the static squeak of a reply from your phone, footsteps echoing like thunder down the familiar pathway to the head office. Hissing– “Why? Is Kento okay-”

“M-more than okay, ma’am.” Your husband’s personal assistant scrambles out urgently, “He’s actually ah- y-you’ll see what I mean…” As Ijichi rapidly ends the call with its beeping tone, your hands brush the looming steel doors of Nanami’s office.

What the hell did he mean? Fingers itching to just open–

And that’s when you smell it. Sweet.

Oh.

Oh…fuck.

The single, slivering waft of fragrance rams into you like five semi-trucks and leaves you reeling- needily grappling for the door handle when your knees knock together and weaken. Holding on for dear life, “Wh-what the…”

And there was your first mistake, accidentally - or perhaps subconsciously - stealing a deep, breathy inhale of the saturated air seeping from underneath Nanami’s looming office door.

It fills your lungs and makes you jolt. Makes you gasp at the fever of your body, drinking in even more, more, more—

Your tongue sizzles with a fresh syrupy layer of drool at the musky cologne of it, more heady than any other perfume you’d ever smelt. More expensive. Like the filthiest marriage between bourbon, underlying caramel, and something so-

-so Nanami. In…rut?

But wait, your hazy eyes widen, and you’re forced to shake your head clear enough to continue the thought. It was the smell of an alpha no matter how much you looked at it - this couldn’t be your husband, right?

Sure, you two had been married for a few months already - but the man hadn’t even kissed you let alone touched you to consummate the marriage, yet.

Hell, you still found his chiselled cheekbones tinting with a light veil of pretty red whenever you simply smiled at him.

Always adorning those scent patches to cover his pheromones, and never letting out a word of his secondary gender. Though, your husband always did make sure to tend to your every need during your heats - every need except those, that is.

Perhaps it was as unconventional of a marriage as could be - what with both your parents choosing to merge companies through familial bonds, but you didn’t know that Nanami was an alpha.

An alpha.

The words clang through your very bones and send sparks of electricity skittering down your spine, you’re squeezing your trembly thighs together only to find that they’d started dampening with a shiny sheen of slick already.

Oh- so this is why everyone in the company was hastily evacuated.

He was potent.

And he was aching for your touch– your skin hums with something sinful as you rap your knuckles on the door, and try not to utter a peep.

“Ijichi, I already told you to leave.”

That didn’t sound like your husband.

It sounded like anything but; a low, curdling growl of husky baritone that made your heart race stupidly fast. There was something so primal seeping into Nanami’s characteristically gentle voice - never raised, never sharpened at you.

But right now he sounded like he would’ve devoured you alive.

And you wanted to see it.

Nanami knew he shouldn’t be here- fuck, he shouldn’t have let it gone this far.

But one flutter of your lashes - just one gorgeous smile you’d sent his way this morning - and he found himself like this. Shit, he hadn’t even kissed you yet, and you already drove him wild.

One hand furiously pumping his rock- no, diamond-hard cock, the other digging into his drawer for more of those damn suppressants as if searching for a lifeline.

“C’mon.” He’s grunting, crumpled forehead beading with glittery sweat the longer his aching, swollen length throbbed in the clouded air. Looking through his unruly golden bangs, his sensory tips scour desperately, “C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon-”

Only to pop one of the last prescription bottles open and find it fucking empty.

“Fuck!” Nanami’s throat decorates with a knot of veins as his plump, blushed tip leaks with yet another thick clump of precum. He needed you, and no amount of creeping his rugged palms up n’ down his girthy shaft would ever come close to how you might have done it.

How he dreams it.

Boiling hot ears popping as the fat of his thumb roams over his bawling divot to plug it up, he barely even hears the office door opening and slamming shut.

He loosens his tie and tries not to muddy his senses with the smell of the beta man, taking everything in Nanami to not just snap– “Ijichi- I f-fucking said-”

“Don’t even recognize your wife, Kento–?”

Nanami snaps his head up, eyes wide. Glazed.

And you think it takes him a full few seconds to register that it was actually you here and not some lecherous figment of his imagination.

Although you were starting to doubt that he was, too.

Such a sexy picture with his favorite blue shirt unbuttoned, pants unzipped just enough, one of his hands white-knuckling the glinting ‘CEO NANAMI’ table nameplate.

But what really drew your eyes was his massive cock - all hard n’ swollen and aching, the prettily rounded top cherry-pink. Right about nine or ten inches of bulky girth pulsing so hard that even you could see it from this distance.

Oh…he really did have big dick energy.

And he was drooling - drooling, you never thought you’d see the day where Nanami Kento drools - through great heaving gusts of gulps. His voice croaks out huskily as if disused for eons, “M-my love, why a-are you…”

Ah, it feels like your satiny blouse clings to you even tighter with Nanami’s rough tonality. And it takes everything in you to stop yourself from taking even a step closer like the betweens of your legs ached to, “Ken.”

“O-oh.” He’s immediately throwing his head back with a groan- and you don’t know where to ogle. The way his slightly plumpened lips drop with a drawled drag of your name, or the way that he’s lifting over a hand to cradle the globed top of his mushroom head to stop himself from cumming.

Failing.

His teeth gleam with slobber, ripping viciously into one of his forearms in an instant – hot crimson trickling out ever-so-slightly.

The attractive column Nanami’s throat bobs with the movements of his Adam’s apples as he simply pours out sultry streaks of cum. Creamy white stripes upon stripes that start dangling all the way from his sturdy wrist down to the puffy leather of his seat. Bucketloads, really.

And you find your mouth almost as wet as the sappy puddle leaking through his business suit, opening to-

“Don’t.” He’s rasping out, slouching his body forward to cover his adoring view of you - as if the mere sight of you would be enough to send him over the edge once more. Octaves higher, crazed. “Don’t s-say my name like that.”

Your goosebumps peek at the tremble in his bass, a strange thrill sprinting through your body. Experimentally, you’re exhaling out, “Ken.”

“Fuh-fuck.”

And through the cervices of his thick, wrapped digits, you’re catching the sight of that buttery mess of cum grow even more voluminous. Squeezing a few more filthy dredges out of him - truly from the way you said his name.

“You- you’re evil, darling.” He’s heaving out in strained syllables, body hunched over to pressurize his still-throbbing erection.

The cracked corner of Nanami’s dewy eyes hone in on you as you slowly - uncertainly - take a step closer. And ever-so-sensually, he cranes over to beckon you with one of his stray hands, “C’mere, my wife.”

Shit, you couldn’t make your way over fast enough.

And he’s snickering something gruff underneath his breath the few times you’re tripping over your own unsteady feet.

Your clammy palms eventually stick on either side of his plastic chair, and the towering man gladly manspreads to provide your hips with a place to rest on. Straddling his meaty thighs - that aching red cock between them - with your hands curling ‘round his perspired neck.

The scent of his pheromones were so thick here that it was leaving your mind pathetically dizzy, all expensive cologne and caramel sweetness for you.

“S’this okay?” He’s hissing through a snarling bite of his lower lip once your snug pencil skirt hikes up just enough to snaggle the globed curve of Nanami’s cockhead.

“Kento-” You decide to go easy on him just this once. Raising a hand to just start peeling that scent patch you usually had on during a workday, “-why don’t you let me help, baby–?”

One calloused hand comes to stop you right in your tracks, the flat of his doughy thumb coming to caress your wrist gently back n’ forth. And not only was Nanami burning hot - he was scalding, heat radiating off of him in waves. “Because…if I start now m’gonna hah- break you, my love.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck. So that was why - and looking into the molten peripherals of his stare, you’re realizing that that was why he’d avoided every kiss, every touch, every heat.

But seated and with him at your mercy like this, you hadn’t ever wanted anything more.

“What if…” You hum suggestively, bottom lip pouting out in a way that makes him collar drench with sweat. Pushing back with a roll of your hips that sets Nanami’s pearly whites on edge, murked breath drifting against his ears, “-I didn’t mind, Ken?”

And one of his hands has to clasp around the corner of his mahogany desk until it shatters, splinters of wood hitting the floor with a dull thud! thud! thud! that synchronizes with your heartbeat.

“Do- do you know what you’re asking?” He’s graveling out between pants.

“I do.”

And Nanami Kento will never know whether it was the way you’d echoed those two words directly from your wedding, or the way your gorgeous eyes shined with such need - but he’s never found himself moving faster. Swifter.

So feral when he’s slipping you off his lap and shoving you down onto the sleek, frigid surface of the desk in two precise flaps of your lashes.

“Oh–!” Your shocked lips let off sweetly once Nanami’s soft palm cushions your face, he didn’t let you feel a single ounce of the striking impact of being laid out all on your front.

Not a single thing except for the burn of your scent patch being pulled off of you with his sluggish fingers. Leaning down so his straight nosebridge hits the crook of your neck and sniffs– savoring—

“Fuck. Fuck.” Your husband spills out gutturally into your skin, and you feel the sharpened edges of his teeth coasting nibbles down your throat. He was pushed into you so close that he could practically taste your sweetly candied fragrance, “My wife…my omega–”

You’re thinking that he probably doesn’t even realize the way he’s rutting and rutting his hips repeatedly into yours, flinching bodily at even the slightest recoil that has Nanami’s curvaceous bulge breaking off even mere inches from your sodden panties.

The wailing whimpers escaping you are so adorable that he just can’t help but suckle his mouth down your own.

And it’s not the first kiss with Nanami that you might’ve expected - it’s sloppy, wet, and nothing more than the lazy drag of his unfastened mouth tasting like his favorite gummy. Slapping his tongue along the splattered speckles of saliva homing themselves near the edges of your lips, “So sweet- soooo much fuckin’ sweeter than I ngh- dreamt.”

Before you can ask what that meant, he’s humming along a few more wet slurps of French kisses. Leaving your lips tingling for more as he pecks down, down, down back to your swollen scent glands.

“Wanna know- why I- bought a candle that smells like- mmm honey, darlin’?” He’s whispering against that sensitive patch of skin, watching as your half-opened eyes dart to the inconspicuous candle that was always settled on top of his desk. “Because it reminded me of you-”

But Nanami wasn’t done- oh, he wasn’t done.

You could almost feel the intensity of his leering grin quivering up at the edges, your restlessly squirming hips being pinned down with his tense core.

“-and…” He’s letting his strained voice peter away into nothingness.

Biting down on the salivating insides of his cheeks, Nanami pushes his sagging glasses up to take a good, looong final look at the way you’re so prettily splayed out for him like this.

Before bending at the knees–

“-and her.”

You’re just about to ask your husband what he meant when he shows you exactly what he meant.

Diving in completely nose-deep to gift your clothed pussymound with a loving peck, the very tip of Nanami’s pert button nose shines with a beaded dollop of your slick. Slipping and travelling all down to where he glides his tongue along his lips greedily–

“K-Kento–” You hiccup out as his hypnotic scent grows twofold, the very hits of it targeting your very core.

“Oh.” Nanami moans at the feeling of you instinctively getting wetter ‘round his mouth, you were so sensitive for him that your saturated lips were already rendering your panties see-through. A sappy drivel of sweet, sweet juices slicking your thighs like glue, “Darling, you’re droolin’ e-everywhere.”

The very crown of his index comes to trace the snaking rivers of slick decorating your legs, sensually. Signing off the cutest hearts and ‘K’s where you were the most tender-

“S’this for me?” He’s tap-tap-tapping his generous digit on the folds of your leaking pussy, tittering when you jolt with every lurid contact. “Pretty girl, are ya this- hck! wet for me?”

Just then he leaves a full-handed, five-fingered spank straight down your slippery slit - ripping out the rawest, most moistened sluuuurp–! of gushing sap from your core. And Nanami takes this as the perfect answer, “Mhm, you are.”

“P-please, baby-”

“That’s it that’s it—” He’s nuzzling your thighs now - as if he was worshipping you. Scorched breezes of his mouth hitting you from just a few centimeters away, his glands rub up against your body and leave you completely smelling like his. You feel his drool smear as he babbles on, “-tell me. Talk to me.”

Your hips buck helplessly, “Want- want you to touch me there, Kento.”

“Where?” He knows- fuck, he knows. But he needs to hear the words directly from your beautiful mouth.

And ah, what a sight it is to be able to see them from up on his knees - twisting and puckering around the words of “Want you to touch my ngh- pussy-”

Barely out of your mouth, barely even formulated before Nanami surges up his humid face and snogs right up into your dripping cunt.

Mazing tip dragging away the flimsy, useless scrap of fabric you call your panties, he’s treating the pursed lips of your pussy like a lollipop. Skimming the ridges of his tastebuds riiiight along your slope and back, “So- so hot on my tongue- ngh. So sweet.”

It’s like a mantra he’s spitting out every time his pointed chin whacks the tippy-top base of your cunt, your neck flaring with rays of pheromones that make Nanami grunt.

Jaw unfastening, his mouth drips open with the gluey remnants of your sap. “Can you ngh- feel it?” Opened wide enough that you could feel his hot maw engulfing all of you - every ribbony ounce of slick that puddled at the back of his throat. “Feel me- hah, can’t fucking get enough.”

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Ken–” Your head dangles back, clawing towards the distant end of his table to hold onto your sanity. “-m-more.”

“More…m-more?”

Fuck- you didn’t realize that Nanami was this pussydrunk.

His husked baritone was lilting sooo much higher in volume and pitch that it made your head all fuzzy just to consider who this was.

Hell, the man has to nip his teeth ‘round a frilly edge of your underwear and bite so that he can keep it all together. Right palm creeping back down, down to his aching cock-

And the other one of his hands paws depravedly at the plush of your dampened thighs to keep them open, he huffs out a breath into your glossy fluttering lips. “More…my wife wants more.” And it hurt- ohhh, it hurt him so much to move himself even the tiniest distance away from where he was closest to your teary pussy.

Declaring a temporary goodbye with a prolonged sniff at the saccharine scent of your entrance, he’s craning his heavy head back up to you. “Spit.”

Your breath catches, inner omega crooning. “Wh-what?”

“Spit.” And before you know it, a hand darts out to smush your puffed cheeks easily together. The mean ovals of his sensory tips digging into your flesh, it’s enough to make you whine. “Spit in my mouth, my love.”

Slowly, stupidly you do - right smack-dab onto the wide plane of Nanami’s tongue and it makes him groan, hands squeezing ‘round his drenched base.

A thin line of it overspills from the side of his lips; and your husband’s crooning coaxingly at you to wrench open your slick-stucken legs further open before he gifts a steady wad of saliva over your sloppy hole.

Brushing his thumb over the lines of juices that stick to your panties, Nanami bites the edges of his glinting teeth into the side and riiiiips–! it off of you in a nanosecond.

“K-Ken, what are you- oh mmpf–!”

You’re mewling, pearly tears shattering your vision just as soon as his plump, velvety lips immediately latch to your clit and suck. The handsome hollows of his cheeks cushioning your sensitive bundle of nerves, it’s all it takes for you to throw your head back and clench.

“Open- need these legs hah- open-” He’s hissing into your cunt, the vibrations of his voice making your poor clit buzz. And shit, does Nanami enjoy the viscid globs of slick this makes you let out, pumping his vein-covered shaft angrily.

“Can’t–” Your moans were his favorite song, coloring the tips of his ears all innocently pink. “-can’t even feel my n-ngh legs!”

Cooing from down under, “Awww, need me to h-hold ‘em, my wife?” It’s only a few roaring heartbeats before you feel one of his palms shuffle underneath your knees to keep them pliably steady. Scuttling you further down his table- “S’alright, s’alright m’here.”

“K-Kento.”

“Tha’s riiiight, Kento’s here.” Suddenly your hit with a wave of relaxing pheromones once the very rounded berry tip of his digit comes rovering across your outer pussy. Collecting shimmering gumdrops of slick to plop into his mouth, “Kento’s here- so be a good girl n’ let your husband take care of it allll, darlin’.”

He’s swivelin’ the chilling band of his wedding ring around your rubbery hole, stretching and stretching until you’re gulping down every solid inch.

And if Nanami’s fingers were this long n’ girthy, it made your mouth water to think of how long he might be down there.

“Oh- you’re so g-good, can feel you in so so deep.”

Nearly five or six inches probing your gummy walls all the way down to his pointed knuckles, you hiccup every time his perfectly manicured fingernail scraped the mushy patch of your g-spot. “Please- please, baby- J-just a lil’ more.”

“Fuck! Gonna be the d-death of me…” His breath tickles the crevice of your bloated pussylips, the slimy fringe of his tongue wanders over with a last few rolls on top of your hooded clit. Sticking right where you were bulging with his barreling finger to bully dually inside, “Gonna- gonna.”

And he’s stretching you out with both his tongue and a second finger.

Pulling your soft hole taut around the circumference of both eager appendages, Nanami bustles just a few inches of his fingers inside before he curls them into the roof of your cunt and makes you yelp.

“S-so close—” Your words come out botched through tears and whines and your cunt, “Wan’ you to h-hit it- oh my god, please.”

A fatly syrupy dewdrop of sap treacles out of you, which Nanami spits out gladly back into where you were leaking the most. “H-heh, she’s talkin’.” Squelch after squelch after squelch drawn out every time he’s crashing his tongue to tug your snug channel even wider. He’s even slowing down the filthy fapping motions of his hand just to hear you louder. “Sh-she’s talking t’me- ngh! Oh, hellooo– ya want me to t-touch this g-spot, my wife?”

You’re bubbling out spitballs of answers but all of it is drowned out by every waterlogged pump - more like thrashes. Hits piled upon hits that leave your velvety walls all bruised with the circular outlines of his two, no, now three rummaging fingerpads.

“S’that right, hmm–?” Not even talking to you at this point - but with your pussy. He nods his unsteady, blushing features, “Y-you want me to oh…”

Just then, his fingers are so lengthy that Nanami accidentally cruises a direct hit to your g-spot without even trying.

It makes your heated insides squeeze around his digits, laminating every patch of skin from rotund fingertip to pale knuckles with all your frothy juices. Head tumbling back, “Th-there. There there there- Ken–!”

“Here- here.”

He’s rasping out with every breath, every whack into the tenderized area where your g-spot was targeted. Pumping and pumping- shit, Nanami’s so gone on your pussy that he’s letting go of his pulsating shaft to latch onto your hips and make you grind back into his face.

In long, slobbering drags that rub your folds raw on his attractive features, his broad chest wheezes after every one of your swervin’ gyrations.

You clench your legs, ruffling the strands of his usually-tide blond hair, and he’s only pushing your thighs together snugger. Grunting throatily, “Don’t even need hah- air when I’ve got her.”

“I-I’m close–” You’re trilling out, your nails digging deeply into the firm wood of the table. “Not gonna- ngh- last.”

“S’that sooo—” Already feeling the curve of his sleazy grin on your swollen lips, it’s as if he now can’t decide between flopping his tongue inside to tugging your perked, pretty clit. “S’she sayin’ the ngh- same thing?” Planting a particularly harsh thrust of his fingers to make your cunt quiver with a slurp, “She is. Cum f’me then- cum all over my face, darlin’.”

And you don’t just cum, you’re making such a mess.

Your hips twistin’ to push back and ride the sharp ridge of Nanami’s nose back and forth back and forth back and forth. Every snaggling catch of his fingers on your g-spot makes your toes arch adorably, your sweat-simmered spine following.

“M’cum- hngh- fuck! M’cumming, Ken.”

“H-heh, I knowww–” Nanami feels his chubby tip twitch at the use of that lil’ nickname again, weighty balls pulsing to the very same rhythm as your cunt was right now. He’s letting out a carnal voicing of your name as he hits your g-spot deeply. “-she told me, my love.”

Ears popped, you’re barely even catching his lecherous words. The mosaic of your vision blotching with pure stars like they did in cartoons, heavy tears coating your cheeks. It just felt too good.

And, ah, just because you’d reached your waves of bliss - was riding through those peaks upon peaks of euphoria with every passing second - didn’t mean that Nanami was going to stop.

In fact, he’s throwing his free hand tighter around your waist and pinning you dead-on onto his face, the lashing tip of his tongue drawing out more n’ more zips of white-hot electricity from your core. He was still eating you out like a man starved.

Rendering you speechless, you cry– “Wait- wait wait wait, I-I’m so sensitive.”

“Good.”

Purposefully murmured with his spit-slicked lips wrapped precisely ‘round your throbbing clit, you’re pounding your fist down on top of the office table until its hinges ricket.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Until it stops just as soon as it started when Nanami catches the knob of your clit with his sharpened canines and bites. And then you shriek, then you see white, then you’re squirting - right down onto your husband who gapes.

“I-it feels so wet.”

“Go on—” He’s coaxing the torrenting sprays out of you with every curled thrash of his fingers, grinning. Wild. “Go on go on go on, make a mess. M-make a mess f’me.”

Splashing right onto the apples of his cheekbones, he’s flapping his eyes half-shut so that you’re drenching him all your juices.

Your maw slacking open as your second orgasm is pulled out of you, body wracking with sensitivity, “Please- p-please.” Your glassy pupils swirl in the exact dumbified circles as he was tracing on your clit, “-Ken.”

But even that special name of his doesn’t reel Nanami Kento out of his stupor.

He’s so pussydrunk, so addicted to making out with every squirting splosh of your pussy that he’s overstimulating you stupid. Slurping it up in viscid, eloooongated noises which ring across all four walls and into the pheromone-fogged air.

He thinks he could cum from this, he’s so close to cumming from just this.

Seemingly forever before Nanami leaves a final slap! of the flat underside of his mushy wet muscle on your leaking slope. Cheeks hollowing with a final sluuuuuurp–!

At least, it was meant to be final.

But even as he’s unlatching himself, the alpha can’t bring himself not even six inches away from your spilling pussy before he presses back in with a pained growl. Snarl bared, eyes drooping- once. Twice. Thrice.

“Can’t- can’t-” He’s rumbling out, smoky, and you sense his scent start to grow addicted all over again. Lurching you with a thorough repeated tugs to smooch your cunt some more, Nanami emits a narrowed breath through every kiss. “Can’t move- ngh- fuck.”

“Kentooo—” Your lips flap with the salted flavor of your own tears, trying (and failing) to move onto your tip-toes and remove yourself from your husband’s relentless mouth. Head turned to him, “I-I want you to fuck me, baby.”

And Nanami flinches. Breathing out a ragged, “T-to what?”

You’re blinking your tears back from your dilated irises, lips almost too wobbly to drag out the words. “To fuck- mmpf–!”

SLAM!

You don’t know if the thundering noise is from the way you’re slammed horizontally back onto your front, or the way that Nanami smashes his open palm down right beside your lolling head.

Fingertips twitching, yearning for but a single graze of your face. You’re left helpless as all his Herculean muscles come pinning down your greedy body - firmer and firmer until he’s practically melting into you.

He was so big.

All eight mounds of his washboard abs peeking through his torn button-up and sliiiiding down your spine. Hips pressing down on hips, scent glands brushing against yours. You still had your thin satin blouse on, and yet you could count each n’ every hammer of his roaring heartbeat.

“Watch what you s-say.” Nanami warns, the points of his teeth nibbling along where your perfume was emanating out in clouds and bursts. Needy needy needy.

And so pretty.

“Wh-why?” You huff out, barely given the opportunity to even think of pouting until Nanami seemingly reads your mind and sinks his own teeth into the flesh. Draaaaagging.

“Because-” Faintly, you’re feeling one of his hands straily lumber down to where his ravaged cock was sobbing. The stout end of his knobbled thumb comes to plug up his leaking orifice as Nanami’s teeth scrape your throat. Lips pulled into a snarl, “-m’got gonna fuck you like a gentleman, my wife.”

His words were dangerous. Savage.

Looking the part, too; flushed, intense eyes all half-lidded, curtained partly by his thick blond bangs. And Nanami was glistening with the wettened remnants of your juices, all the way from the blushing apples of his cheeks to drip! drip! drip! in a translucent polish down his sharp jawline.

For the moment, you and your omega are almost rendered soundless - almost.

“Prove it, Ken.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Nanami doesn’t know whether it’s the rut or those words or simply you that make his heavy, fat cock flinch in one hand. That makes him throw his head back with a groan, that makes him grind his hips deeper into yours as he cums–

“Move this-” His trembling fingers clutch urgently around where your skirt was still hanging off of your hips. Well, not for long before he’s tearing it clean off. And then follows your blouse, your bra. “Move.”

Right in time for the glittering folds of your pussy to be showered in a thick topping of his creamy white seed. The pointed mound of his tip is frosting out such candied knots of sap that cling to your leaky pussylips - so much.

You’re whimpering at the scalding hot cum that sploshes down the rim of your entrance, dripping. Leaking. “Ken- o-oh my god did you just–”

“Shut up-” He’s snarling out, trying to muffle out the animalistic tonality in his voice but fuck, does he fail. You’re turning him into more of a damn beast than a man with the way your parched pussy quavers to swallow up his glossy droplets.

One of his stocky fingers come up to smear the webbed mess of it on your outer cunt and push it in– “Shut up n’ take it. S’all y-yours anyway, darlin’.”

Before you can untrap your maw from the substantial gloopy-like texture of your spittle, Nanami slouches his weight over your squirming body. Massive, veiny hands rested on either side of your head, he sliiiiides his still-agitated, rock-hard length between your puffed-up folds.

Making sure you feel every single one of his zig-zagging veins from reaching from his tawny golden happy trail down to where he was pinpricking your clit with his thickset cockhead. Over and over.

“All of it.” Nanami whispers eventually, as your driveling hole oils his girth with enough layers of sap that it oozes down onto the office floor.

His sweltering pants making your bodyhairs stand on end, you shiver a single one of his palms slither down to cup your tummy. Somewhere along the way, he draws a burning invisible line about halfway across your body.

And you’re not granted even the chance to ask what he’s seemingly measuring out before a stubby, splittening caress between your jittery legs makes you see stars.

“All- all- of it s’ngh yours– s’got your n-name on it. Yours.” Nanami’s keening out with a raspy tone above the sloppy squelches that immediately start pouring out of your wet pussy. Restraining a firm grip on the curve of your hips to hold you still while he reels back and pushes and pushes– “Every. Single. Inch.”

He was so big that he was spearheading you with every single of his ten inches, too.

Pushing your eyes all the way to the backs of your head with the spheroid crown of his fat, bulbous tip. Every tiny buck makes you streeeeetch around the incredible roundness of his circumference, rubbin’ and rubbin’ your drooling entrance with his veiny shaft.

“Heh, we’re consummatin’ our marriage, my wife.”

“O-oh my–” Your mindlessly squealing pitch breaks, squeezing your silky walls to hug his head. “-it’s so- it’s so.”

“With ngh- just the tip, huh, my love?”

And as cute as it was that you’re pushing back and trying to run away from his relentless pursuit, Nanami doesn’t have the patience right now.

Just barely hanging on with enough sanity to dig his hand thoroughly enough to bruise your poor hips, the slicked sweat of his palm dampening your skin. “Wh-whaaat–?” With a quick, shocking spank on the right side of your ass cheek, he’s traaaawling you over like you were nothing but a pretty lil’ toy. “S’it to h-hah big?”

“It- it’s so…”

You were already proving his point without even speaking. He was just so big that his core flexes with sharp, jutting strikes just to fit inside you, hissing with every recoiling resistance of your tight entrance.

You’re moaning ridiculously after every pulverizing glide that makes his probing cockhead push even deeper. A sliver of sweat trickles down the side of Nanami’s temple and hits your back in a splat!

Darting up onto your unsteady elbows, you restlessly try to fuck back into his ruthless cadence. “Please- please, baby. More.”

He tilts your face up to scorch it with a few promises, “I’ve got it- Kento’s got you.” Smacking a hand ‘round your arched throat - manhandling you into a fucking headlock, your husband urges you to sink your teeth into his heated flesh.

“Bite. Bite n’ you’re gonna take more, m’kay?” Nanami’s whispering out like a mantra, pulling you to crash your lips with his own stern ones. “Like a good girl- like my g-good girl.” His other arm softly thumbing along the outlined tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “More more more more more- Want more- y-you’re gonna get it- ohhh, you’re gonna get it.”

The sudden change in angle makes the stinging mounds of your ass hit Nanami’s sharp pelvis with a sharp thwack! Bottoming out.

“Good girl.” He utters, sounding like a man crazed. The sensitive skin of your glands roast with a lazy lick, cold metal of his glasses slipping down until they kiss your skin. “O-ohhhh good giiiirl l-look at you taking it like a- like a champ. Kissin’ me from th-the inside, my omega.”

And the only thing you can moan are softly gasping ohs! and yes! again and again as his bulging biceps tighten around your neck, pounding the goopy ends of your cunt with a firm hit.

All with swollen, long inches.

Nanami was so fucking massive that he was kissin’ your sweetest, most tender spots without even trying. Just the massage of his plumply swollen veins over them make your mouth slobber, counting in your head each lightning bolt - about eight of them.

And Nanami? Nanami was falling apart.

He was slurring out mix n’ matches of syllables that resembled your name every time your heavenly, hot innards were clenching around his capped crown like a vice.

“Y-you feel so good, Ken.” You’re calling out as his toned hips position underneath your ass cheeks to push against you until you were almost dangling in midair. “In s-soooo deep.”

“Yeah? Yeah?” He’s wheezing out with a speckling pinpricks of cum from before and a few fresh spurts swashing all over your base. Your knees buckle as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and presses in, “Keep those p-pretty eyes open, okay, my love? Wanna see you watch- ngh- watch me fill ‘er up, m’kay?”

It’s all you can do to nod to his crazed whims, darting your eyes down to where Nanami was pushing on the base of your spine to make you arch curvaceously.

Straining against the swollen flex of his biceps, oh, you were burnishing his tannish skin with gluey flecks of drool. Stupidly babbling, oh-so-dumb on his massive size. “Wh-where–?”

“Here-” He thwacks his mushy, ruby-red tip in a splurge against your g-spot, “Here- here- and here.” Three repeated times to make you lose your mind just as much as he was, “S’yours. All yours, my wife.”

“All mine. Ngh– mine, Ken.” You echo, your vision blurring at the sheer force that he was pushing into these thrusts. Hell, his own bulked hilt was rubbing raw and red with the slamming impacts.

“Yeah take it. Take it, aaaatta girl.”

His pace was filthy - it was feverish. Head drooping, eyes shuttering.

And a slimy winding river of slobber was starting to fall from Nanami’s curved grin every time he’s getting so fucking drunk on your pussy. Body scorching, neck aching for you to take him take him take him–

“Kento- oh!”

It only takes two accurate swings of his grip to flip you laid onto your back when his veiny cock pulled out.

Important documents fluttering about, this time you’re getting a goood look at Nanami Kento, your husband.

Glasses completely fogged and dangling, his drenched-through shirt barely hanging off of his broad shoulders, pants discarded somewhere along the line to bare you with the sheeny expanse of his muscular thighs. Nothing of the gentleman you once knew.

Thick clumps of saliva spatter as he cranes his head down to you and growls, glassy hazel eyes at you through the rare gaps in his blond bangs.

Your inner omega simply purrs at the glinting sharpness of his elongated fangs, the sensitive splotches on your neck stinging with the primal urge to be bitten.

Nanami’s nose crinkles at the oversaturation of sweet, sweet pheromones, his own coming out in response. And a generous helping of saliva ribbons out onto your front with a splat! splat! splatter! and he only adds to the sleek mess by slapping his weighty, extended length between your pussylips and gawking as creamy pre puddles.

Scratching out, “M’gonna fuck ya pregnant, darlin’. Just s-say the ngh- word.”

“Kento-” Boneless arms slipping around his burning neck and lugging his hulking body even closer, “-please.”

And that’s all it takes.

All it takes for something in Nanami to snap. All it takes for him to hastily align his leaking mushroomed tip with your trembling hole and ram you full all the way to your cervix again. Cratering a French kiss there, deep.

So big that he was digging into every adhesive-slicked mass of your walls, probing and probing until your snug cunt was pulled to your limits.

To your whining impatience, he doesn’t move immediately - instead, you jaw gapes as he’s taking the time to lean down and kiss that round, cylindrical tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Soft lips skittering right over where his bulged tip was hitting, “M’gonna m-make you round n’ glowing, my omega.”

Before you know it, rugged palms slither down the underside of your thighs and fold you like a lawnchair. And into- fuck, a mating press.

A mating press.

The realization seems to strike Nanami at the very moment it strikes you - even though he was literally the one manhandling you into this pliable position. The dimples on his chin quivering as if he couldn’t fucking believe he had his lil’ wife bent like this for him.

And the base of his thickened cock swells. Close.

All the breath leaving his full lungs, “S-so pretty.” Every syllable followed by a harsh plap! of skin-on-clammy-skin. Every syllable. He holds your thrashing legs easily apart, “So pretty a-and wet n’ m’gonna make her even wetter. Wanna make her full- make her…oh.”

“Sh-shit–” You can palpably feel yourself growing even more damp at the way his chiselled, sharp muscles move and tense with each thrust. A hand moving down–

“Move that fuckin’ hand.”

It wasn’t even a command, and yet you find yourself hurrying to listen.

Watching with bated breath as his smoggy, pussydrunk eyes rest on the copious glittering droplets of slick escaping your bulged pussylips, even past his girth. And he only smiles- “S’th-this f’me, darlin’? Alllll f’me–?” Greedily licking his lips, he gropes your tits. “This turns- hah! turns ya on, huh? Getting bred?”

Squealing, “Y-yessss– wan’ it so bad- want you so bad, Kento, please.”

“Hmm…boy or girl?”

“Wh-what?”

He’s only leaning down to rasp more gruffly against your eardrums, a behemoth of his palm patting down on the jiggling pouch inflating into your tummy. “Boy or girl?”

“G-girl.” You’re whimpering out mindlessly, pulse thundering even faster at the brilliant grin that splits across Nanami’s face.

“Mmm– was thinkin’ th-the exact same.” And that wasn’t just the rut talking. Nanami treks a hand to gift your clit with a pinch and chuckles darkly as you flinch, “Easy- easy there.” Still not letting up, still hugging every inch of his throbbing cock on your cunt. “Guess I’ll be the ngh- strict parent then, hm?”

And the zaps of electricity rushing to your brain are too much, his cadence, his pheromones - his rut. It’s all so much that with only a few more vulgar strikes to your battered, bruised g-spot your mouth gulps a dumbstruck “K-Ken, I’m–”

Not even getting out the sentence before you arch your back into a geometrical semi-circle and throw yourself into your nth high of the night.

The edges of your vision tinging with black, it’s all you can do to claw your nails in red, red trailways down Nanami’s muscular back. Feeling every muggily glissading muscle as he pounded you into the desk through every blissful peak.

“Ngh- o-oh, my l- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck–!” Nanami’s voice takes on a whiny tinge at the feeling of your scalding hot insides molding around his pillaging shaft. So tight that he had to bite his lip and push down on your tummy to pull out after every paced thrust. “S-shooo soft.”

Orgasm feeling like nothing more than tingles, your vision tinges like a black vignette once you’re ogling up at Nanami’s pretty, pretty face. “Ken- Ken”

He’s rubbing a heart over your sparking clit with love, “Yes, my love–?”

“Want it i-inside, Ken.” Mindlessly, your inner omega spurs you to teeth over the tense muscles of his neck - over that particular spot. Walls massaged raw every second, “Want you t-to cum all i-insiiide-”

“Patience.” It’s all he says before rovering his hand somewhere above your head on the flat table and grasping his favorite lucky yellow tie.

Before you can blink your tear-stained lashes, he loops it twice over your neck and ties - dragging you back with a simple pull of his bulky biceps. You look so pretty n’ helpless like this that he can’t help but feel his mouth water, spitting the excess between your kiss-swollen lips.

“P-promise not to miss?”

“Never. Wh-what did I tell you- s’all sh’alllll yours.”

Slurring. He couldn’t even speak properly - barely even breathing - before snapping his hips to yours so close that your tender pussymound scratches with his soaked-through tufts of tawn. Once. Twice. Before Nanami collapses on top of you and cums—

Your knees hitting your tits, legs shoved over his shoulders, ass stinging at the shaky jackhammer.

“T-taaake it. Take it n’ get p-pregnant. Get pregnant get pregnant get pregnant–” He whispers as thick, steamy hot cum starts pooling all the way into what feels like your gut. “Want it. Need it.”

Aching, swollen, almost painful sparks of white-hot pleasure running down his spine once he’s slamming a capped knee on top of the table and angling himself to pound and pound.

“Ngh- s-so much–” Your hips thrash, lungs heaving with the weight of his happy caramel scent. “-so much so- fuck.”

He spits into your hanging open mouth. “Ohh m’gonna make a mess of you.” And as he rests his towering body closer on top of yours, you can feel the way Nanami’s meaty thighs tremble delicately with every shooting jetstream of cum spraying inside your deepest parts. The fingers toying with your clit move to pinch your folds together, he prattles. “A-all inshide now.”

Oh, you look so pretty with your pussylips so swollen and leaky. Frothed right on top with an ivory coating of his sap that dips in and out. Moaning, “I-inside?”

“Mhmmm– I-I’m gonna be a papa- a papa. Gonna t-take care of her n’ you don’t hafta lift- lift a finger, my love. I’ll t-take care of the feedin’ n’ the late nights and- and…”

He was daydreaming right now and you were stunned.

“M’gonna b-brush her ngh- hair n’ you’re gonna dress ‘er up all pretty.” He’s babbling just as awe-struck as you, “A-and then you’ll- you’ll feed her breakfast I ngh- made n’ we’ll both take her to school. Spoil her- n’ ohhh she’s gonna look just like you w-with my eyes n’ she’s mine and-”

“A-and?”

“-yours.” Every declaration followed by the most determined of thrusts. One, two, three, four, five more dolloping streams of thick seed that glues to your walls and slips n’ slides straightly down your cervix. Your womb. “Y-yours. Yours yours yours y-ngh! Yours.”

Milking himself for you.

Nanami drills into you like he’s gone feral; that vice-like restraint around your throat stopping him from both biting into you just yet and helping him trawl you up n’ down to take every single drop.

It could’ve been hours, maybe even days before you find your now-shrilling voice once more.

“M-m’yours, too–” You’re whimpering out, gliding your hands through the sweat-matted valleys of his hair and pulling him.

But, of course, Nanami Kento loved to be used by his wife this way.

“N’ I wan’ your knot, Ken.” You bat your lashes, already having felt the massive, thick ring swelling around his base. Yet another particularly hard drive leaves you gasping, he was just so big– if you’d thought his normal hilt was wide, then this would stretch you until you were crazed. “Please?”

Ah, there it was.

That magical word.

And how could he ever say ‘no’ to his wife?

With a knobbly thumb hooked to your fucked-out entrance, he’s arching his back and squeeezing that incredible perimeter inside. It’s so damn large that he has to slouch back and gaze as his knot slaps and slaps your outer pussy.

Wisping out a few globules of buttery cum? Pre? Nanami didn’t even know anymore, just aware that he was sobbing from the purple plum-colored, split-end of his cock.

Canines bitten until he’s tasting metal, “Gonna take it- t-take it like a good girl. My ngh- good wife.” Nanami’s fighting to keep his weighted lids from falling shut, “Get you all plugged w-with my knot. S-so full you can’t even ngh- fit. Can’t even take anymore-”

“Yes, please- please give it t’me, Ken.” You’re scrambling on the table, left hand flapping away somewhere until he clings onto it and brings it up to his spit-soiled mouth.

Tenderly kissing the band of your wedding ring as his sloppy thumb pries apart your gluey-stuck folds and siiiiiiinks his knot in. Fully. Tightly.

And as soon as it’s all in, you’re blinking back nonsensical stars and angels in your vision - sobbing at the sheer stretch. It’s so raw, so filling having him be connected deeply inside, the tender skin of his ballsack flinching after every one of your squeezes.

Knot digging into your walls so thorough and hot.

And it’s as if for a second, your husband stops breathing.

Enough for you to ask, “B-baby, are you okay?”

“N-no.” Comes Nanami’s strained, cracking whisper of an answer. So hoarse you almost couldn’t hear it, “No.”

And there’s no warning before Nanami flinches - viscerally, animalistically to surge his face into the crook of your neck and bite. Hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a soundless scream, mouth dropping into the perfect oh! at the euphoric feeling of his jagged canines ripping into your scent glands. Scents melding and mixing and becoming one, it’s as if ten more orgasms hit you at full force.

And your husband - your mate - feels it, too.

Because the combined strength of his slamming pound and his fist on top of the table is so much that one of the sturdy mahogany legs breaks in half.

Sluggishly, your omega reminds you that it was your turn to reciprocate the possessive marking.

“Ken…” Being held up by none other than his tie blocking most of your airway, you lift your dizzy head enough to kiss the swollen gland where the whisked caramel was the most potent. Biting down as hard as your ruined body could, “-m-mine.”

At the sensation, he gasps–

“Marry me.” Hips driving sloppily into yours all over again and again and again even though the knot prevented him from doing anything more than swervin’ grinds. It’s like he won’t stop - can’t stop. The crimson-stained plumpness of his lips smear all over your mark, your ring, your lips. “Marry me marry me- be my wife?”

“Kentoo–” you giggle out, shortly out of breath as he accurately scratches your g-spot carnally once more.

His foggy, half-lidded eyes watch you closely as you interlink your left hands together and reach it up to his hazy line of vision. “We’re already married.”

“O-oh.”

And it seems he was genuinely so pussydrunk that it didn’t even register - couldn’t register doing anything but gyrating his v-line into you sensually. Slow, aching drags of his plump tip stirrin’ hearts out of your insides and the splashes of cum within.

Over and over, while Nanami takes off whatever remnants were left of his shirt and lays his head between the valley of your tits. Grabbing a sweet handful whilst he sucks like he was trying to draw milk out already.

Desk broken, air saturated.

And only once he feels his rounded knot softening the slightest bit, tugging himself out with a few lecherously slurping tugs, does he speak.

“S-s’a good thing our hck! company’s empty.” Nanami whispers, barely audible over the squelch! of his webbed mess of cum immediately flooding out of you. Raw white and messy. Depraved.

As you gasp, he’s cracking your legs open. Oh?

Kneeling down down down–

Oh.

The pinkish tip of Nanami’s tongue hits your overstimulated, weeping pussy with a damp thwack! “Because we’re celebratin’ our honeymoon in every room of this building, my wife.”

A/N. Mwahaha I told y’all alpha Nanami was next <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #tonywrites #nanami

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societyfolklore · 3 months ago

Text

We Couldn’t Stop

Title: We Couldn’t Stop Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: During a sweep of a forgotten HYDRA lab, you, Steve, and Bucky trigger an old aerosol dispersal system. No one realizes what hit you until it’s too late. Now stuck in quarantine- burning, aching, and caged in with two dominant, unraveling super soldiers- you’re forced to ride out the drug’s effects together.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Sex Pollen / Drugged Lust, Threesome MFM, Dubious Consent (due to drug influence), Double Penetration, Oral (F & M receiving), Praise Kink, Rough Sex/Overstimulationm Fingering, anal ply, cum play, Competitive Doms

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for April Kinky Bingo Square: A3- Threesome Card Number: KB003

The mission was supposed to be a simple sweep- an old HYDRA lab buried deep beneath the forest floor, long abandoned, just a routine retrieval run for leftover tech and encrypted files that could pose a threat if they fell into the wrong hands. You, Steve, and Bucky had done that sort of thing more times than you could count. Clear the rooms, grab the drives, secure any volatile tech, and call for extraction. In and out. Easy.

You should’ve known better the moment you stepped inside. The facility was too quiet, too intact. Dust settled thick on the floors, but the lights still flickered dimly overhead, and the security systems were half-alive, humming low like they were waiting.

You were the one who found the sealed door- reinforced, heavily protected, and drawing power. It was locked down tight, tucked at the end of a corridor where the flickering lights didn’t quite reach. You called the others over.

"You think it’s storage?" Bucky asked, frowning at the biometric pad.

"Locked and powered," you muttered. "Could be data. Or maybe just a lab they forgot to scrub."

"Let's not poke the bear," Steve said, but he stepped up beside you anyway, scanning the door. "Looks like it's sealed for a reason."

That should've been the moment you backed off. But your fingers were already dancing over the keypad, overriding the old security system. The panel blinked. Clicked.

"I’ve almost got- "

The door hissed. Not wide- barely a few inches.

A soft spray hit you all in the face.

It came fast. Silent. A puff of pressurized mist like compressed air, followed by the faintest scent- ozone, chemical sweetness, almost floral.

You stumbled back, coughing once.

"What the hell was that?" Bucky barked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the door. "You okay? Did you breathe it in?"

"Yeah, but- I don’t feel anything."

"We’re all covered in it," Bucky snapped, glaring at the faint sheen settling over Steve’s shoulders. "Fucking hell."

"Close it," Steve ordered.

Bucky slammed the door shut, sealing it again with a growl. "Old security measure. Shit."

"We’ll report it," Steve said, but his jaw was clenched.

The spray clung to your skin. Sweet. Heavy. And whatever it was, it was in all three of you now.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

By the time the jet touched down back at the compound, you were already flushed and aching, your heart thudding too fast in your chest. Whatever had come out of that door- it clung to your skin, settled in your lungs, and made everything inside you feel off. You weren’t the only one affected. Bucky was pacing the perimeter of the quinjet like a caged animal. Steve hadn’t spoken for the last twenty minutes, but his white-knuckled grip on the back of a seat said everything.

You’d hoped the decontamination shower would be the end of it. But blood was still taken. Swabs run over your skin. Scans. More questions. Until finally, they left the three of you in the quarantine room- one sterile space, no outside contact, and cameras in every corner.

You wanted to apologize. This had been your mistake. But Bucky’s expression was pure storm as he continued to pace like a tiger in a zoo. Steve’s face was unreadable- steely, distant, controlled. So you kept your mouth shut and tried not to scratch at your skin like you desperately wanted.

Soft static crackled, and then Tony’s voice filled the room over the speaker. "It’s biochemical bonding serum," he said. "Looks like it's engineered to push subjects into a state of hyperarousal and submission, designed to override inhibition and drive instinctual behaviors."

Your stomach dropped. What kind of mess had you landed yourself in?

"How long?" Bucky snapped, voice sharp.

"We'll have to check back on the decay and metabolic rate, and we- "

"What Bruce means is- we don't know," Tony cut in. "For you guys, it might be a matter of hours. Little Miss Curiosity might be stuck with it in her system a little longer."

You flinched and shied away from the speaker, burying your face in your hands.

"We're working on it, don't stress. It shouldn't kill you," Tony added casually.

"Big fucking whoop," Bucky growled, pressing a fist into the wall. Steve shot him a look of disproval.

"Buck.." His tone warning.

"Just, try and stay calm, guys," Bruce said, trying to sound optimistic. "It'll be alright."

"Don’t make a mess," Tony said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We’ll keep you posted."

And just like that, you were cut off again. Biochemical- engineered arousal.

"Well, you heard him," Steve sighed, leaning back against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We just have to keep our heads. It can’t last forever."

That was easy for him to say. Both Steve and Bucky had super soldier serum in their veins- enhanced bodies that could regulate, adapt, maybe even resist. You… you were human. And you could already feel your body reacting in ways that made your skin itch and your blood feel like it was boiling.

You didn't say anything. Just shifted your weight, trying not to squirm. The heat beneath your skin pulsed steadily now, like it was alive.

"This is fucked," Bucky muttered, pacing again. "They just dumped us in here like we’re some kind of experiment."

"They’re doing what they can," Steve said, tone calm but tight. "We don’t know enough yet. Getting worked up won’t help."

"Worked up?" Bucky turned on him, eyes flashing. "You don’t feel that?"

Steve’s jaw flexed. "Of course I feel it."

"Then quit acting like you don’t."

You glanced between them, heart racing. The tension in the room was building again, only this time it wasn’t from anger- it was something heavier. Thicker. Clinging to the air like smoke.

And under it all, that hum beneath your skin only grew louder.

Hours had passed.

You'd started pacing a little while ago, unable to sit still. Movement helped. Not much- but it was something. You were going through the water they'd left in the room like you were dying of thirst. You were hot, sticky, your tank damp and clinging to your body, and you were doing everything you could to ignore the throbbing pulse between your legs.

You kept moving. Pacing. Trying to shake it off.

Steve watched from the far cot, jaw tight. His shirt was damp, his breath shallow, but he was sitting like he was trying to pretend everything was normal.

Bucky was pacing again, eyes locked on you more often than not, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. “She smells different,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rough, raw sound of his voice made your head twitch like it was a physical thing pulling at you.

"Gonna try and sleep," you muttered, not looking at either of them.

Maybe you'd be able to sleep through the worst of it. Maybe if you were lucky, your body would calm down. You slipped behind the thin curtain, stepping into the tiny corner of privacy around your cot. Laying down, the heat of your body only seemed to intensify. Your skin felt suffocated, and with a frustrated sigh, you peeled your tank top over your head, leaving you in just your bra, hoping the exposure would help you breathe easier.

It didn’t.

You curled onto your side, arms around your stomach, thighs pressed tight together. The ache between your legs was a constant, heavy throb now. Maybe… maybe you could just handle your own needs. Just enough to take the edge off. Anything to ease the ache.

Your hands trembled as you pulled the thin blanket around you and lay on the cot. There was a small curtain for privacy, but it did nothing to muffle the sounds when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband.

You tried to be quiet. Tried to hold your breath. But your body was on fire, and even the gentlest brush of your fingers sent you bucking.

A whimper escaped, broken and desperate.

And then you heard it- Steve’s voice. Low. Strained.

“Don’t- don’t do that.”

You froze. “I- I can’t- ”

Still, you didn’t stop. You rubbed faster, then slower, your fingers diving inside of you, pressing deeper, trying every angle- but nothing worked. Every shift of your hand sent sparks across your nerves, your breath hitching with each pulse of pressure, but the fire wouldn’t break. Your legs trembled, your toes curled, but it all stayed out of reach.

You changed angles, tried circling your clit with trembling fingers while your other hand held onto the edge of the cot like it could ground you. You rocked your hips up, whispered pleas into the dark, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. You needed more- needed them- but all you had were your own shaking hands and the unbearable ache growing between your legs.

Your breath hitched again as frustration bloomed hot and frantic in your chest. You were soaking, your thighs slick, the air sticky with the scent of your arousal. Your skin was flushed and clammy, your body locked in this endless loop of need- and yet you still couldn’t fall over that edge. Not like this. Not alone.

"You gonna keep pretending you don’t want her?" Bucky asked, voice low and rough, growling on the other side of the curtain.

Steve didn’t move at first, but his voice followed, strained. "I can smell her arousal from here, Buck. You think I’m not affected?"

"She’s whimpering, Steve. Sounds like music to me."

"We’re not doing this. We can’t- "

"Fuck this. She needs someone."

"Don’t you fucking touch her," Steve snapped.

"Then you do something," Bucky fired back.

Silence followed. You pressed your fingers deeper, hips rocking, but it wasn’t working. You were going to explode- your body was wound so tight it hurt.

Your fingers weren’t enough. You begged, voice cracking, desperate and broken.

"Please... please someone- "

Someone pulled the curtain back. Bucky’s eyes were dark. Blown wide. He didn’t speak. It hurt. “I can’t…” you whimpered, barely able to speak. “It’s not working…”

Your hips shifted again instinctively, your fingers still caught between your thighs, but the tension was unbearable. You were so wet, so swollen with need, it was maddening- and yet release stayed just out of reach. Your body craved more than your own touch could give.

They both appeared, stepping past the curtain without a word. You could see it in their faces- this was affecting them just as much. Steve’s eyes were dark, jaw clenched. Bucky looked wrecked, barely human with how sharp and hungry his expression had become.

You writhed again on the cot, body shaking, and Steve moved first- his weight shifting over you as he pressed your shoulders down into the mattress with steady, unyielding hands.

"Stay still," he said, voice gravel-thick.

At the same time, Bucky grabbed your wrist and gently pulled your hand away from you.

You whined, hips arched up, as Bucky’s gaze dropped to your slick fingers. He looked transfixed. Obsessed. His mouth parted before he dragged his tongue along your digits, groaning low in his chest at the taste.

Then- without breaking eye contact- he brought your hand to Steve.

"Tell me again we shouldn’t do this," Bucky said, voice rough and knowing.

Steve hesitated, staring at your hand, your eyes, then your body.

"...Steve?" you pleaded, chest heaving. A bead of sweat slid down your ribs, slicking your skin as the heat inside you pulsed like a second heartbeat. "Help... please."

Steve’s jaw flexed. His eyes raked over your flushed, trembling body, lingering where your bra had ridden up from the way you were squirming, the curve of your thighs glistening in the low light.

Bucky didn’t speak. He just stood there beside him, wild-eyed and rigid, chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. The scent of you filled the air. Thick. Sweet. Desperate.

Steve exhaled through his nose, heavy and slow like he was trying to exhale restraint. It didn’t work.

"You’re going to regret begging so pretty, sweetheart," he murmured, finally moving closer, the promise behind his words like thunder rolling through your veins.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

They were both on you.

You didn’t know who moved first- Steve’s hand slid up your thigh, firm and sure, while Bucky’s mouth was suddenly at your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The tension shattered. Clothing came off in frantic tugs- your joggers peeled away, your bra unclasped and discarded. Steve’s tank was tossed aside. Bucky’s sweats hit the floor with a low rustle.

Heat and skin and breath surrounded you. Their bodies pressed in, solid and hot and overwhelming. Steve's chest pinned you down as he kissed you- hard and consuming- his tongue sliding against yours as he groaned into your mouth. His hands cupped your jaw, fingers splayed, tilting your head how he wanted it.

Bucky moved lower, lips trailing down your throat, teeth scraping along your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, dragging you down the cot toward him with a roughness that made you moan. He kissed your stomach, your ribs, your inner thighs, worshipping each inch like it belonged to him.

You gasped, arching into the touch of both of them. Their mouths- wet and demanding. Their bodies- slick with sweat, grinding against you like they couldn't get close enough.

You'd all held out for so long. Now there was nothing but the letting go.

Every nerve ending in your body sparked like live wires with every touch- every graze of skin against skin sent jolts of unbearable sensation through you. It was impossible to stay still. Your limbs twitched, your hips rocked, your breath came in short, gasping pulls as your body tried to process too much, too fast.

“Don’t move,” Steve growled, voice rough but laced with something gentler beneath. “Too sensitive? No. You’re just not used to being handled right.”

Bucky pushed your legs open wider, guiding your knees apart until your calves hung off the edge of the cot, completely exposed, completely theirs. “She’s soaking,” Bucky breathed. “Fucking hell- she’s dripping down her thighs.” The cool air kissed your slick folds and made you shiver. Then his hand slid between your thighs again, and fingers plunged into you- two, maybe three. You didn’t even know whose they were anymore.

Steve’s mouth found your chest, teeth grazing over the top curve of your breast before his lips closed around your nipple. You sobbed, your body already arching upward from the overload.

The blonde growled against your skin, one hand gripping your jaw while the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to bow your spine upward. You gasped, helpless, writhing between them, your body trembling from overstimulation.

“You’re taking it so well,” Steve murmured, voice low and rough. “Just like that. Good girl.”

“Look at her,” Bucky snarled. “That’s it, sweetheart- ride my hand. Come on. Take what you need.”

His fingers worked deep inside you, curling and thrusting, hitting that spot that made your legs twitch and your hips lift off the cot. His palm pressed against your clit with every motion, grinding you into the edge of bliss, holding you there with cruel precision. You could feel everything. Every ridge of his knuckles, every flex of his wrist. It was too much and not enough all at once.

You whimpered, your hands scrambling against the sheets, seeking something to hold onto as your body rocked with each relentless stroke. Steve bit gently at the underside of your jaw, his hand still twisted in your hair as he whispered praises that barely reached your ears over the rushing roar of need building inside you.

Steve’s mouth was on your chest again, sucking one nipple into the heat of his mouth while his hand massaged the other, groping you with a needy rhythm that only made it harder to breathe. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair again, gently tugging until your spine arched up off the cot, your body straining toward both of them.

Bucky’s metal thumb pressed into your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make your thighs jerk. Your breath hitched, head tipping back as you let out a broken moan.

"OH FUCK." you cried, fingers clawing at the side of the cot, knuckles white.

He didn’t stop. His fingers pumped into you, slick and steady, coaxing the sound out of your throat again and again. You felt like you were vibrating- nerve endings lit up with fire, each touch sparking through you like electricity.

“You hear that, punk?” Bucky’s voice dripped with ego. “That’s the sound of my fingers making her cry.” Steve shifted beside you, sitting up to watch, his eyes locked on where Bucky's fingers slid in and out of you. One of his hands moved down, low and out of sight, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he fought to keep control.

Bucky glanced back at him, grinning as he curled his fingers just right and made you cry out again.

"Look at her, Stevie," Bucky growled, his voice rough and ragged with arousal. He didn’t even look up, just watched his fingers slide in and out of you like it was the most important thing in the world. "She’s writhing just from my fingers. What happens when I put my cock in?"

"You’ll wait," Steve snapped, voice sharp, strained with barely checked control. He was flushed, jaw tight, clearly fighting the same battle Bucky was already losing.

"God, look at her," Bucky muttered again, breath coming faster. "Fuck, I want her mouth. I want every part."

You couldn’t answer. Your vision blurred. Every nerve in your body felt like it had snapped tight, vibrating with unbearable pressure.

And then it broke.

You came- hard.

Your whole body convulsed as the orgasm tore through you. Your legs kicked against the cot, arms flailing blindly for purchase. Steve had to hold you down, one hand braced across your chest, the other still tangled in your hair as your back arched and a strangled sob tore from your throat.

It didn’t end quickly. The drug made it last- your climax dragging on and on, crashing over you in waves so powerful they left you gasping, wrecked.

You felt Bucky’s fingers slow inside you, easing off just enough to let you ride it out without breaking. But they didn’t stop touching you. They didn’t let you go.

And worst of all, the haze in your head didn’t clear like you hoped it would.

You were still shaking. Still needy.

Still burning.

You were a panting mess, your skin still hot and your chest tight when one of them scooped you up and lay you out on the cool floor. The shock of it made you gasp, the chill a sudden relief against your fevered skin. You blinked your eyes open, dazed, limbs slack and breath ragged.

"You’re such a mess for us, baby," Bucky murmured, crouched above you now. His voice was low, ruined with hunger. "That sweet little body of yours wasn’t made to handle all this, was it?"

Your eyes found him- Bucky, kneeling near your face now, his cock hard and leaking, so close it blurred your thoughts. He looked feral, undone, lips parted like he was barely restraining himself.

Your tongue slipped out to lick your lips without thinking. The taste of your own sweat clung to your skin, but all you could focus on was him. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his fist clenched at his thigh.

Your mind narrowed to a single point of clarity.

You wanted him in your mouth.

You leaned forward slowly, licking the bead of precum off his tip before taking him in fully- hungry, needy, your lips stretching around the thick, velvet length of him. Bucky’s breath stuttered, and he let out a ragged groan as your mouth sealed around him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, one hand flying to your hair, not to guide but to anchor himself. “So fucking pretty like this- taking me so deep. Look at those lips- look at that mouth.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him hiss. He was hot, heavy, pulsing against your tongue, and you hollowed your cheeks to take him deeper, until your nose pressed against the base and he swore low under his breath.

“Messy little mouth,” Bucky panted. “So eager. You needed this, didn’t you? Needed something to suck while we ruin the rest of you.”

You were lost in it- the taste of him, the heat, the way he twitched when your tongue flicked just right. Spit gathered at the corners of your mouth as you worked him with sloppy desperation, gagging slightly as you bobbed your head in a steady rhythm.

Just then, you felt Steve’s hands at your hips, steady and sure. He shifted your lower body, pulling your legs open and up until you were spread out for him on the floor.

“You liked Buck's fingers? Let’s see how you do on my cock,” Steve growled against your ear, his voice dark and thick with restraint.

You gasped around Bucky’s cock, the moan caught in your throat turning into a garbled sound of pleasure as Steve aligned himself behind you. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you wide as his tip pressed against your entrance- already slick, fluttering, aching.

He pushed in slow, filling you inch by inch, and every nerve inside you lit up in electric spasms. Your muscles fluttered around him, clenching and pulsing as he stretched you open, the thick drag of him stealing your breath.

The pressure, the fullness, the stretch- it was overwhelming. You sobbed around Bucky, the vibration of your moan making him groan above you, his hips twitching as he fought not to thrust.

Steve bottomed out with a hiss, his hands gripping tighter like he needed the anchor. Inside you, he throbbed, deep and perfect. You felt stretched to the edge of your limits, your inner walls fluttering in frantic spasms around him, struggling to adjust and clench all at once. Your body didn’t know what to do- pull him in deeper or push him out.

It was too much. It was everything. Your head was spinning.

They started to move- slow at first. Steve dragging back only to sink in again, deliberate, controlled, while Bucky’s cock bumped the back of your throat as he rocked forward with a groan. You gagged, whined, clung to them both with your mouth and body.

You were stuck in it now. The lust. The drug. The heat. There was no thought left, only sensation. Only how it felt to be stretched open in two directions, trembling and gasping.

They didn’t talk to you anymore. They talked about you.

“She’s so sensitive,” Bucky growled. “Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

Steve grunted, his pace picking up. “Tight as hell. She’s pulsing like she doesn’t know whether she wants to come or cry.”

You tried to moan but it came out a broken, garbled sound around Bucky’s cock. Your tongue dragged along the underside of him as he pushed deeper, your throat fluttering as you swallowed around the stretch. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, tears tracking down your cheeks, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Bucky’s hand tightened at the back of your head, not forcing, just holding you there, gazing down into your wet, dazed eyes. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, look at you drooling all over me. You love it, don’t you?”

Your hips rocked back into Steve without meaning to as he thrust forward again, harder this time, grinding deep. Your nerves fired like sparks, the friction of his cock dragging against hypersensitive flesh sending bursts of pressure low in your belly. Your insides coiled, pleasure building with every thick, deliberate thrust, your body wound so tight it felt like you might snap apart.

“You’re doing so well for us,” Steve grunted, leaning down, his mouth hot at your ear. “Such a good girl, letting us use you like this.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, driving in deeper. The stretch made you cry out around Bucky’s cock, throat flexing as your moan turned to a sob.

"That's it," Steve growled, pace quickening. "Fuck, so fucking wet and warm... you gonna cum, sweetheart? Gotta feel you squeeze me while you swallow Bucky."

Your body arched, heat crashing through your spine as Steve hit that perfect spot again and again, each thrust sending a jolt through your core. Your throat tightened around Bucky's cock, the vibration of your desperate moans making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck- she’s so close,” Steve panted, driving harder. “You feel that? She’s fucking pulsing.”

You sobbed around Bucky, tears streaking your cheeks, the pressure in your belly a coil tightening with no escape.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Bucky panted, watching the way you writhed. “Look at how she’s trembling. She needs cock.”

And then it snapped.

Your climax hit like a bolt of lightning, seizing your body with white-hot tension as your inner walls clamped down around Steve’s cock. You wailed around Bucky’s length, the cry vibrating through him as he let out a guttural groan.

“Fuck, that mouth- ” Bucky growled, watching your teary eyes roll back. “I’m gonna- shit- ”

He spilled down your throat with a grunt, his cock twitching between your lips, his hand holding you steady as you swallowed every drop of him while he pulsed.

The clenching spasms of your climax milked Steve mercilessly, dragging his own orgasm from him with a ragged curse. He slammed in deep, staying buried as he came hard, filling you with warmth that only made the pleasure burn hotter.

“Take it,” he groaned, his breath broken against your shoulder. “Take it all. Good fucking girl.”

Bucky sat back on his heels, pulling himself from your mouth with a wet pop, still hard, his cock glistening with your spit. “"Fuck... you’re unreal..." he panted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing..pupils blown as he looked down at you.

Steve finally pulled out with a groan, the loss of him sudden and jarring, making you whimper. His cum followed, warm and slick as it dripped from your stretched pussy, pooling between your thighs.

His gaze dropped between your legs, transfixed. His eyes went heavy-lidded as he watched it leak from you, dripping down to your slick, twitching rim. Slowly, his fingers moved to your core, smearing the mess down lower, spreading it deliberately to your other entrance.

You gasped, twitching from aftershocks, your body still sensitive everywhere. His fingertip teased your tight hole, rubbing softly, slicking it with a practiced ease. You whimpered, already overwhelmed, but the moan that spilled from you was pure need.

“Damn, Stevie- you didn’t fuck her right if she’s still aching like this,” Bucky drawled, voice hoarse and edged with a smirk, watching the way your hips shifted restlessly on the floor.

You whimpered, the heat still rolling inside you, every nerve ending alive and twitching. The aftershocks made your muscles flutter, your body too sensitive and still so hungry. Steve didn’t bite back. He was too focused- his fingers slick with his own cum as he spread it lower, smearing it over your pussy and then circling your tight, twitching rim.

And then one thick finger pressed inward.

You gasped, whole body jolting, a broken sound catching in your throat as your body tried to clamp down instinctively. But Steve worked slowly, steadily, easing the finger deeper, the stretch sharp and slow as he began to work you open.

You felt your core clench around nothing as Steve worked his finger deeper. “I need- please, I need more, I can’t- ” you gasped, voice trembling. Your head was a mess, fogged with lust and the aftershocks still sparking under your skin. Steve kept up the slow pump of his finger, pushing in deeper, working more of his cum into your ass to keep you slick and open.

“Hear that, Steve?” Bucky said, voice thick with amusement, already fisting his own cock in lazy, slow strokes. “She wants more.”

Steve’s gaze didn’t waver, his finger sinking deeper, curling. You whimpered again.

“Can’t say no, can we?” Bucky added, grinning.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what our girl needs...” Steve muttered, voice thick with heat and control, as his hand disappeared between your thighs.

Steve pulled his finger from your ass just as Bucky got down onto the floor, reaching out to haul you up into his lap. Steve’s arms hooking under yours, supporting your limp, boneless body as they moved you together like you weighed nothing.

“Let’s get you on Buck now...” Steve purred near your ear, voice thick and smooth, a slow heat curling down your spine.

Bucky’s cock was already there- thick, hard, and waiting. They guided you together, Steve steadying you from behind while Bucky angled his cock to your entrance.

As Steve lowered you, your legs wrapped weakly around Bucky’s hips, and you felt the first stretch as his tip slid inside. A guttural groan ripped from Bucky’s throat, his hands tightening on your thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted out, voice rough and reverent. “You always take me so damn good. Still so fucking tight- even after Steve blew you open? Shit.”

“That’s a girl,” Steve murmured, voice low with praise. “Nice and slow... Want you to feel every inch of him, don’t you?”

You just whimpered and nodded, the need to be filled consuming, overwhelming, as the pair of them helped you sink down onto Bucky’s cock, inch by perfect inch.

Your head fell back against Steve’s shoulder as you settled fully onto Bucky, who thrust up into you with steady pressure. The heat and stretch made your whole body tremble. You could barely breathe, still twitching from your earlier climax. Then Bucky's hands gripped your hips tight.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, hips rolling upward as he began to move you, guiding you into a rhythm. “Look at you. Still aching. Like how I feel doll?”

The moan that spilled from your mouth didn’t even sound like you anymore- wrecked, raw, and desperate.

You were unraveling under Bucky’s rhythm- the way he filled you had your mind slipping, your thoughts scattering with every deep, slow thrust, how every thrust hit deep, high inside, brushing against that spot that made you shudder. Your head lolled back onto Steve’s shoulder, eyes fluttering, lips parted around desperate little gasps.

“She bites her lip when I go deep. You see that?” Bucky said with a rough chuckle, voice wrecked but smug. “She likes my rhythm.”

You didn’t even notice the way Steve bent you forward over Bucky, hands guiding your body like you were something precious and fragile and already ruined.

You didn’t have time to think too much before you felt Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you open as Steve shifted behind you. It wasn’t until the thick, spongy head of his cock pressed against somewhere you’d never let anyone touch that your eyes snapped open in surprise.

The first inch pushed into your ass slowly, carefully, but it still stole your breath.

“It’s too much- I can’t- wait- ” you gasped, voice cracking with overwhelmed panic as your body instinctively tried to jerk away.

But Bucky rocked his hips upward, pushing deep into your pussy again, and the shockwave of pleasure was enough to paralyze your resistance.

“Shh... it’s okay,” Steve murmured, arms wrapping around you from behind as he continued to press in. His voice was thick and coaxing, his control iron-tight. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good for us.”

You sobbed, your whole body fluttering around them as Steve sank in deeper, the thin wall between your holes trembling with every inch he took. The two of them groaned in unison, voices rough and reverent as they filled you together.

You were caught between them now. Two super soldiers, all three of you lost in lust and need. Your face twisted with sensation as they held you there- one thick cock filling your pussy, the other spreading your ass open inch by inch. Both sunk to the hilt. You were impossibly full. You were shaking. Overwhelmed. Unable to process the stretch, the heat, the drag of their bodies inside you. It was too much. And you needed more.

“You’re both so… big- I’m gonna- fuck- ” you sobbed. You couldn’t believe how sensitive you’d become- how just being filled, just being stretched, could reduce you to this. You weren’t even moving, yet your body was already bracing to come undone again. There was no going back. No holding on. Just surrender.

You came without moving, the sensation of fullness alone tipping you over. Your body seized in the middle, core clenching violently, squeezing down on both of them at once as pleasure ripped through you like a lightning bolt.

Your voice cracked into a scream. You were gone- shaking, convulsing, burning from the inside out as your orgasm dragged through you with devastating force.

Both of them groaned at the way your body squeezed them- tight and hot and trembling.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, rocking his hips once more. “Didn’t even have to move. Just had to be inside you.”

Steve chuckled darkly, voice low and wrecked in your ear. “She’s that sensitive. That fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t even answer. Your lips parted in a silent gasp as Steve’s hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your stiff nipples as he started to move again. Slowly at first, easing back before pressing forward, dragging against that thin wall with every thick stroke.

Bucky's grip returned to your hips, steady and possessive, guiding you to rise and fall on his cock. Your body jolted with every motion, your moans soft and slurred.

“That’s it,” Steve cooed, hips snapping gently. “We’ll start slow…”

“I-I can’t- ” you whimpered, but your body was already moving, driven by instinct and need.

“I know you can take more,” he murmured. “Look how beautiful you are when you come apart. It'll feel better- just gotta keep going.”

And it did. It felt better than the denial. Better than the ache that came from holding back. The pleasure rolled through you like a drug, heavy and all-consuming.

Your hips started to move again, slowly grinding into Bucky as your walls fluttered around him. You didn’t know if it was need or instinct- maybe both- but you couldn’t stop. You were cock-drunk. Barely aware of anything except how good it felt to be filled this way.

“Breathe,” Steve whispered. “Just like that. Hold it- good girl.”

Then Steve pulled your hips back into him and pressed all the way in.

“You think you’re fucking her deep?” Steve growled at Bucky, voice low and wild. “Watch this.”

Bucky shoved his hand flat to your lower stomach and lifted his hips with a brutal thrust. You cried out, the stretch making your eyes roll back as he ground up into you. It was obscene how deep he reached, how thick he felt. You pawed at his chest, clinging to him with trembling fingers.

“..fuck fuck fuck...” you gasped, the breath knocked out of you before he eased his hips again, smug and steady.

“Told ya,” Bucky muttered with a grin.

But it didn’t stop there.

Bucky answered your gasps with harder thrusts. Steve listened for his name and answered with praise. His mouth latched to your neck, nipping and licking along your skin as he squeezed your breasts roughly, molding them in his palms.

“Did you hear that one? That was mine,” Steve muttered against your skin when you gasped his name.

Bucky answered with a sharp thrust that made your breath catch. “She moaned louder for me, sweetheart. Don’t get cocky.”

Each of them was locked into the game- testing reactions, adjusting pace, trying to claim the sounds that spilled from your lips. One made you cry out, the other drew a gasp. They used your body like a live wire for their competition, and you were helpless in the storm.

“She whimpers when I kiss her right here,” he growled, biting just beneath your ear.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips tighter, fucking up into you hard enough to rock you against Steve’s chest. “She clenched around me when you said that,” he rasped. “Bet she’s trying to pick a favourite.”

You couldn’t keep up. Couldn’t think. You only managed to gasp whatever name escaped your lips first, and they both heard it- every time. And they responded with sharper thrusts, filthier praise.

“You’re so cock-drunk, you don’t even know who’s making you come anymore, do you?” Bucky said, voice rough.

“She’s beautiful like this,” Steve murmured, licking the sweat off your throat. “All wrecked. All ours.”

Then Bucky’s metal hand slid between your thighs again. His fingers brushed your clit, the coolness of steel a shocking chill of metal against your heat made you jolt, gasping as sparks danced up your spine.

“Oh- god - fuck- ” you sobbed, trembling uncontrollably as sparks shot up your spine.

“Breathe,” Steve ordered again. “Just like that. That’s our girl.”

They started to move faster now- driving into you in sync, pistoning in perfect rhythm. The slap of skin echoed, the slick sounds of your soaked cunt and the obscene wet pressure of being filled from both ends breaking whatever was left of your mind.

“You want to make her come, punk?” Bucky growled. “You gotta fuck her harder than that.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Steve snarled, thrusting harder. “We don’t need to break her. Just ruin her a little longer.”

“She’s shaking so bad. You keep her steady, Steve- I wanna see her face when she comes again.”

Your next orgasm ripped through you with a small wail, your features contorting as your body locked up tight. You clawed at them both- gripping Steve’s forearm, Bucky’s shoulder- as your walls fluttered around their cocks, milking them, begging for more without a word.

They didn’t stop. Didn’t give you time to come down. Steve groaned, his thrusts picking up as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. Bucky cursed, gripping your hips tighter, lifting and dropping you into him with growing urgency.

You felt them both losing control- felt their restraint slipping with every second you squeezed around them, heat and slickness pouring down your thighs.

“Fuck- fuck, she’s doing it again,” Bucky grunted.

Steve’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “She wants it. She’s not done. Not till we are.”

Then the pace shifted- harder, rougher, deeper. Their moans grew louder, matched only by the slap of skin on skin. Your head spun, your vision blurred.

And then they were coming again- Steve first, pulled tight to your back, his groan muffled in your shoulder. Then Bucky, buried deep beneath you, eyes locked on yours as he spilled inside you with a strangled moan.

You collapsed between them, limp and boneless, your body a trembling wreck held up only by their hands. You didn’t even try to move. There was no fight left in you- only the slow hum of satisfaction and overstimulation. Somewhere in the haze of your mind, a flicker of disbelief passed through you- how had you endured that? How had you survived the storm of them inside you? But there was no room for shame or second thoughts. Only surrender. And the quiet, overwhelming hum of being utterly, deliciously wrecked. You were too dazed to understand what was happening at first, the haze still thick behind your eyes. The humming under your skin hadn’t stopped, but it had dulled- muted to a low thrum that echoed in your bones. They were careful, even if your overstimulated body didn’t register it that way.

You whined, squirming, as they slowly pulled out of you. The stretch reversed, the heat slipping away, leaving you empty and raw. It wasn’t pain, but your body protested the loss with soft whimpers.

Someone pressed a water bottle to your lips, coaxing you to sip. You obeyed without thought, the coolness trickling down your throat a small mercy.

Another set of hands gently wiped you down. A cold, damp cloth slid between your legs, easing away the slick mess with slow, tender strokes.

Then your head was lowered into someone’s lap. Fingers carded through your hair.

“You did so well,” Steve murmured. “Look at you- perfect.”

You blinked slowly. Steve’s voice again, closer now: “Easy, sweetheart. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Your limbs twitched weakly, still responding to phantom pleasure. A quiet laugh came from Bucky.

“Still twitching. Still fucking gorgeous.”

You felt him kissing up your leg, mouth trailing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh.

Then your legs were being moved again- lifted, spread with a gentleness that contrasted starkly with the earlier frenzy. There was no rush now, no urgency- just the soft reverence of Bucky's hands as he cradled your thighs like something precious, something breakable, as though he hadn’t just wrecked you minutes ago. You blinked, barely aware, as Bucky settled himself between them, laying flat, his breath hot against your oversensitive core.

He pressed a kiss there, soft and reverent, and your whole body jolted in response.

“And I’m not done tasting her,” he muttered, voice thick with need.

“Buck- she needs to recover,” Steve warned again, but his voice had softened to something indulgent.

“I’ll be gentle…” Bucky promised, his mouth already lowering, tongue dragging slow and careful over your aching folds as your head lolled back into Steve lap, eyes fluttering closed, lost to the warmth and the wetness and the impossible pleasure building again

TAGS: @buckybarnesfic, @ruexj283, @yesiamthatwierd @trojanaurora, @hextech-bros

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catchastarorten · 6 months ago

Text

—License and registration, please.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Did you pass the speed limit? No. Did Jun-ho pull you over anyways to steal a few moments (and kisses) with you? Yes.

Content: fluff, shared kisses, a girl flirting with him but Jun-ho being very loyal, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.1k

The air was cool that afternoon, sunlight glinting off the windshields of passing cars. Traffic duty wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was steady, and after everything Jun-ho had endured chasing shadows and secrets, it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t mind the transfer. It gave him time to breathe. To be with you.

A motorcycle driving into sight caught his eyes, bringing him out of his thoughts. A man carrying a girl on the back, helmet-less.

Jun-ho approached the two as the motorcycle came to a stop, his partner—a younger, less experienced officer trailed after him.

“You’re not wearing a helmet. Your license, please.” he took out a small tablet as the man cursed, eyes full of impatience and annoyance.

“Isn’t this entrapment? Hiding to catch people is shady. You want to squeeze money out of broke citizens?” the man scoffed.

“Your license, please.” Jun-ho ignored him and extended a hand out, waiting.

The man handed over his license begrudgingly as the girl sitting behind him on the motorcycle hopped down, giving the man a reassuring pat as if saying, “I’ve got this,” before coming closer to Jun-ho.

“Look, can’t you just let us go? I’m wearing one.” she gestured to her own helmet, giving it a steady pat.

“No, ma’am.”

The girl frowned, but took a second look at him and her eyes sparkled, peering at him. “Hey, you’re really handsome!” her voice tuned into a higher pitch at her excitement, as if she found some treasure.

“I could charge you with obstruction.” Jun-ho said dryly, checking the information on the small tablet in his hand.

“You’re a tough cookie,” the girl smiled wider, taking out her phone. She snapped a few pictures, striking different poses as Jun-ho tried to avoid the camera, his head ducked low as he scanned over the information shown on the tablet. The man on the motorcycle narrowed his eyes at the sight.

As the ticket printed out from a machine strapped to Jun-ho’s vest, the girl patted his shoulder. “Come on, get in here!” she leaned closer, but he stepped away to maintain a good distance, before walking over to the man.

Jun-ho handed the ticket to the guy. “The fine for not wearing a helmet is 20,000 won. Pay it on time.”

The man snatched the ticket away as the girl continued fawning.

“What’s your number? Are you single?” she squealed.

Jun-ho blinked, momentarily taken aback, before he smirked softly and raised his hand, the band on his finger glinting in the sunlight. “Happily married,” he said simply, his voice warm.

The girl’s excitement evaporated, replaced by a pout. “Seriously? Who’s the lucky woman?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer, instead he walked back to the squad car.

The man drove off on his motorcycle, a bitterness clinging onto him. The girl was startled and chased after the guy, shouting and exclaiming and throwing her helmet at him but missing while trying to catch up, her loud curses disappearing into the distance along with the motorcycle.

Jun-ho watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, shaking his head before getting back into the squad car. His rookie partner shot him a bewildered look. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“More than you’d think. Just ignore them,” Jun-ho replied, settling back into his seat, looking down at the band on his ring finger as his eyes softened, already missing you.

They were driving back toward their usual patrol route when Jun-ho caught sight of a familiar car in the distance. It was yours, the unmistakable silhouette of the vehicle and the way it handled the road bringing an instant smile to his face.

“Pulling over for a second,” he told his rookie partner.

“What? Why?”

Without explanation, Jun-ho sped up slightly, falling into step behind your car before flicking on the lights. You weren’t speeding—you rarely did—but you pulled your car to the side of the road obediently anyway, your indicator blinking calmly, putting the car in park.

Jun-ho stepped out of the patrol car, smoothing his uniform. His partner stayed inside, fiddling with the radio.

He walked up to your window, tapping lightly on the glass, then gestured for you to roll it down. When you turned to look at him, he saw the way your eyes flickered in recognition and affectionate annoyance. He could already feel his heart melting.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along as you pressed the button and lowered the window.

“Officer,” you said, your voice laced with playful suspicion. “What’s the problem?”

Jun-ho leaned against the frame, speaking in a serious way, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “License and registration, please.”

You scoffed. “I wasn’t speeding. You know I wasn’t speeding.”

“You were driving suspiciously… within the speed limit,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Am I really getting a ticket for obeying the law?”

“Yes,” he said, dipping his head closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “But you can pay in kisses.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in through the open window, his lips brushing yours in a tender, stolen kiss. It was soft, warm, and lingering—the kind of kiss that reminded you just how much he adored you. When he pulled back, he waited for just a moment before stealing another kiss. And then another.

“Jun-ho,” you mumbled, your voice half-scolding but mostly filled with affection.

“One more,” he murmured, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the window.

You gave in, letting him kiss you again.

“That’ll cover it,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled back, his eyes lingering on yours.

Just as he straightened, the passenger door of the squad car opened, and his rookie partner stepped out, looking thoroughly confused. “Uh… everything okay?”

Jun-ho let out a sigh, his expression shifting back to something more professional, though you could still see the softness in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute, go wait in the car.”

The officer hesitated but nodded, retreating back to the patrol car, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Jun-ho said, his voice softening as he looked at you.

You smiled warmly. “I’ll see you at home.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “Sharp.”

With one last lingering look, Jun-ho stepped back, letting you drive off. He stood there for a moment, watching your car disappear down the road, his heart full.

As he returned to the squad car, his rookie partner gave him a questioning look, but Jun-ho didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just for him to cherish.

#hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho x you #squid game #hwang junho #hwang junho x reader #squid game imagine #squid game x y/n #squid game fanfic #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game fic #jun ho #jun ho x reader #jun ho squid game

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celestiaras · 22 days ago

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ft. jinu x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ when you piss off your girlfriend so she decides to drain you dry tonight┊0.5k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub jinu┊demon stamina, established relationship, jealousy of rumi and possessiveness, creampies/breeding, roughness and scratching

➤ author's note: i saw this prompt on twitter and just had to write it for someone but it’s short because i typed this all out on my phone

making you jealous was one mistake.

making you jealous, pointing it out with a chuckle, and then brushing it off as nothing important was a death sentence.

it wasn’t his intention to belittle your feelings, he swears, he was just being stupid because his mind is all over the place between gwi-ma, his past, his half-blood enemy, and his new occupation as a kpop idol. he didn’t think fans in the human world shipping him with the purple-haired demon hunter was going to bother you so much. he found it to be completely harmless, but you clearly thought otherwise and decided the best punishment was to let out your frustrations on him.

his head was spinning at this point, thrown back into the plush pillow as another useless moan fell from his lips, unable to keep track of the number of rounds you two had done and how many more were to come. all he knew was the non-stop pleasure you’ve been giving him for the past hours, the fire of ecstasy burning in his soul with each drag of your velvet walls along his cock, the smell of sex, the pain of your nails scratching at his chest, how beautiful you were on top of him with your skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat and the intricate patterns drawn all over your body glowing were every time he hit your spongy sweet spot— he didn’t even remember why you were so pissed off at him in the first place.

through his half-lidded eyes, he could see evidence of his previous peaks oozing out of your tight little cunt where the two of you met, leaking out a little more with every raise of your hips and getting pushed deeper into you each time they slammed into him. he wouldn’t even be surprised if he’s fucked a baby into you at this rate, but the thought of it combined with unnatural stamina kept him rock-hard despite the fact that he’s been shooting blanks for the past fourty mintues. he doesn’t know if he still has it in him, but he knows you aren’t going to relent until he’s properly drained and all of the underworld knows that you’re the reason why he’s screaming so much.

your hand traced up his torso, tracing the design up his abs and chest, leaving feather-light touches all over, from his board shoulders where you left sunken bute marks so deep that it was a wonder there was no blood to the dark purple marks you left on his fair neck up to his sharp jaw. the possessive glare you gave him made shivers shoot up his spine, and he swears he came again with how his vision went completely white and his entire body stilled for a moment.

that was, until he felt you lightly smacking him in the face multiple times until he opened his eyes and saw you smirking at the pathetic state he was in. “aw, are you going to tap out already, jinu? you look so cute when you’re all fucked out like this… i’m so glad it’s a sight that only i am able to see…”

god, he’s so in love with you. his hand cupped yours, looking up at you as the only one for him. “right, only you… i’m yours, forever and always…”

#📜. her works #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters smut #jinu kpop demon hunters #jinu kpop demon hunters x reader #jinu kpop demon hunters smut #saja boys #saja boys x reader #saja boys smut #jinu x reader #jinu smut #jinu

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kooklovee · 4 months ago

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Hold on to me (m) - JJK

Your husband forgets your second anniversary. What starts as disappointment and heartbreak soon spirals into doubt- about your love, your marriage & whether he even sees you anymore. But when Jungkook realizes his mistake, he’s willing to do anything to prove that his love has never wavered..

Can he make it up to you, or is it already too late?

Pairing - CeoHusband!Jungkook x Wife!Reader

Genre - 18+, established relationship au, angst, fluff, smut, some more angst MDNI

ONESHOT - 11k words

Warnings - angsty ride, hurt/comfort, workaholic Jungkook, miscommunication, crying, deep emotional intimacy, slow build, Jungkook is an idiot but trust me he's sweet alright😭, Explicit smut- unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), soft dom Jk, nipple play, lots of kissing, love-making, creampie, pet names <3, praises, happy ending (sad ending's not in my veins🫸)

a/n- snsjkqkw It's my first fic (well more like I've taken the courage to actually post it)🥹 do let me know your thoughts on it <3 n consider a reblog if you like it, thank you for reading! 🫶

Masterlist kofi☕

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

The soft glow of the overhead light casts long shadows across the dining room. But its warmth does nothing to chase away the cold emptiness creeping into your chest.

You sit in one of the dining chairs, fingers idly tracing the gold band on your ring finger, the once-familiar weight of it.. feeling heavier than ever. The house is silent, except for the distant hum of the city beyond the huge windows.

Jungkook is late. Again.

You’ve lost count of how many nights have passed like this, curled up alone in bed, the space beside you growing colder with each passing hour.

He always has a reason. A meeting that ran overtime, a last-minute project, something urgent that demands his attention more than you do. And you’ve always understood. Until now.

Your second anniversary is just around the corner, and for the first time in weeks, you have something to look forward to. Something that, surely, he wouldn’t forget.

You let out a slow breath, staring at the untouched dinner on the table. It’s the third time this week you’ve set two plates, only to eat alone. The food has long gone cold, but you still can’t bring yourself to clear it away. Some foolish, desperate part of you still hopes Jungkook will walk through the door, pulling you into his arms, murmuring apologies against your skin.

But the door stays closed. Your phone stays silent.

You check the time—almost midnight.

He used to call. Even when he was busy, he always found a way to let you know he was thinking about you. A quick text. A voice note. Something. Now, hours pass without a word, and you’re left wondering when exactly you started feeling like a ghost in your own marriage.

You clench your fists, blinking back the sting in your eyes. This isn’t you. You don’t doubt him. You don’t overthink things. But these days, love feels a lot like waiting, and waiting feels a lot like breaking.

And you’re so damn tired of breaking.

You close your eyes, trying to remember the Jungkook from before, before work took over, before the distance set in. The man who, despite his quiet nature, always found a way to make you feel cherished. He wasn’t one for grand speeches, but his words had always carried weight. Small, simple confessions once meant everything. Now, silence is all you get.

It wasn’t always easy with Jungkook. Back in college, he was cold, reserved, a storm you could never quite predict. But little by little, he let you in. His love had been careful, deliberate, whispered promises in the dark, stolen glances across crowded rooms, fingertips brushing against yours like a secret only the two of you understood.

And now, it feels like you’re losing him.

The thought sends a sharp ache through your chest. You tell yourself it’s just work, that the weight of being CEO is heavier than either of you expected. That he still loves you, even if he doesn’t say it as often.

But love isn’t supposed to feel like this.

The clock hits midnight.

You don’t know what you were expecting. A text? A call? Maybe the sound of the front door unlocking, Jungkook stepping in, exhausted but still managing to hold you close?

But there’s nothing.

Your throat tightens as you stare at the small cake sitting on the dining table, the frosting slightly uneven, the decorations a little clumsy. You were never a good cook. Jungkook knew that better than anyone. But in the early days of your marriage, you had tried. Because back then, cooking together had been something special. Flour-dusted fingertips, shared laughter over burnt pancakes, stolen kisses between stirring batter.

So tonight, with him too busy and too stressed, you thought a quiet, cozy celebration would be enough. Something small, something just for the two of you.

But now, looking at the untouched dinner, the unlit candle, and the cake that no longer seems worth eating, you realize how foolish that hope was.

You glance at your phone—no messages, no missed calls.

You put away the plates. You put the cake in the fridge, even though you know it’ll probably stay there, forgotten.

And then you crawl into bed alone, wrapping your arms around yourself because if Jungkook won’t hold you, who else will?

----

You stir, feeling the warmth of an arm lazily draped around your stomach. The weight is familiar, and for a moment it feels like everything is okay.

Jungkook is still asleep. Shirtless, his toned chest rises and falls in steady breaths, his face soft in the morning light. His dark lashes cast faint shadows on his skin, and his lips parted just slightly, making him look so much younger, so much more at peace.

You take your time looking at him, memorizing the exhaustion on his face, the faint crease between his brows even in sleep. He must’ve come home late—so late that you hadn’t even heard him.

Still, he’s here. Beside you. And that alone is enough to make something flicker in your chest.

Maybe he’s planned to stay home today.

Of course he remembers.

You can’t help but lean in, pressing a soft, loving kiss against his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your lips, and for a fleeting moment, everything feels like it used to.

Jungkook mumbles something incoherent, his brows knitting slightly before relaxing again. A small, sleepy noise escapes him, and the sound makes you giggle softly.

He stirs, his grip on your waist tightening just a little before his lashes flutter open. His dark eyes, still hazy with sleep, land on you, and for a second, there’s nothing but quiet warmth in them.

"You're up early," he murmurs, his voice thick with drowsiness. His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your waist, a touch so familiar yet so foreign all at once.

You smile, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. "Couldn't sleep much," you admit softly.

Jungkook hums in response, his eyes falling shut again for a moment. He nuzzles into the pillow, his grip on you still firm like he has no intention of letting you go. And for a brief, fragile second, the weight of last night, of the distance, of everything, seems to disappear.

Maybe he really did plan to stay home today. Maybe this morning means something.

Your heart clenches with the smallest trace of hope.

Jungkook lets out a long breath and shifts onto his back, stretching his arms above his head before blindly reaching for his phone on the nightstand. His warmth leaves your side, the air turning cold almost instantly.

You watch as his expression shifts, sleep slipping away as his screen lights up. His brows furrow, jaw tightening ever so slightly.

Then, with barely a glance in your direction, he mutters, "Shit, I need to get to the office."

The hope you held onto so desperately?

Gone.

You blink, your mind scrambling to catch up.

Maybe he's kidding. Maybe this is just one of his teasing games, the kind where he acts all nonchalant just to catch you off guard later. That’s how it used to be. Him pretending to forget something important, only to turn around and surprise you in a way that left you breathless.

So you wait.

You wait for the smirk to tug at his lips, for him to toss his phone aside and pull you into his arms. You wait for him to kiss you insane, to murmur a husky "Happy anniversary, baby," against your skin.

You wait for him to prove you wrong.

But he doesn't.

Jungkook swings his legs over the bed, rubbing a hand down his face before standing up. He moves through the motions—grabbing a fresh shirt from the dresser, checking his notifications again, already half-immersed in whatever work emergency is pulling him away.

The realization settles in. suffocating. He’s not playing. He’s not pretending. He really forgot.

And with that, the last flicker of hope inside you dies.

----

The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut barely registers in your mind. The faint rush of water follows soon after, but you’re still frozen in place, staring at the empty space where Jungkook was just moments ago.

Your fingers grip the sheets as you try to process it, try to make sense of the ache settling deep in your chest.

He forgot.

The thought circles endlessly, refusing to fade. It should be simple, just a mistake, something easily fixed with an apology. But it doesn’t feel simple. It feels like another crack in something that’s already been fragile for weeks.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, the screen lighting up with messages from friends and family. Warm wishes, sweet texts. All reminders of the day that Jungkook should have been the first to acknowledge. And of course, they must have messaged him too.

But you know the answer before you even have to question it. Jungkook has two phones—one for work, one for personal use. And these days, his personal phone sits untouched, collecting dust somewhere in the house while his work phone never leaves his side.

Your throat tightens.

Even if someone did remind him, would he have even seen it? Would it have even mattered?

You swallow hard, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes.

Maybe you should say something. Maybe you should remind him.

But a part of you, one that you don’t want to acknowledge—wonders if it even matters anymore.

You push yourself up from the bed, the weight in your chest making it harder than it should be. You don’t want to sit here, waiting for him to remember, waiting for an apology that might never come.

So you move. Just as you step toward the bathroom, the shower turns off. The door opens a moment later, as Jungkook steps out, towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his toned chest.

For a brief second, your eyes meet. He looks at you, blinking away the last remnants of sleep, his expression unreadable. There’s no sign of realization, no flicker of guilt or hesitation. Just the same tired, distracted gaze you’ve been seeing for weeks.

You say nothing. Instead, you walk past him, entering the washroom to go about your usual routine. brushing your teeth, washing your face, anything to avoid the tightness in your throat.

The sound of the sink running is the only thing filling the silence between you.

By the time you step out of the washroom, Jungkook is already dressed for work. His tie is slightly loosened, one hand adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves while the other holds his ever-present work phone. He looks like he’s in a hurry, but that isn’t surprising. He’s been having breakfast at the office for weeks now—always rushing out, always too busy.

Still, you can’t grasp that he’s actually forgotten.

Some part of you still expects him to pause, to turn around and say something. But he doesn’t. He’s focused on his screen, scanning through emails like today is just another ordinary morning.

Your chest tightens. You need to look away before the emotions creeping up inside you spill over. So, you pretend.

You settle at the table, opening your laptop like it’s just another workday. Since you’ve been working from home for the past couple of months, this isn’t unusual—but today, it’s not about work. It’s about avoiding him. About keeping your head down so he doesn’t see the way your hands tremble slightly.

If you act normal, maybe it’ll hurt less. Maybe you won’t break in front of him.

And maybe, just maybe, if you pretend hard enough, you can fool yourself into believing it doesn’t hurt at all.

“Baby, can you help me with the tie?”

His voice is smooth- like every other morning before this one. Like today isn’t supposed to mean more.

You hesitate for half a second before standing up, walking towards him. Your fingers move automatically, looping the fabric, tightening the knot, straightening it against his crisp shirt. You should pull away the moment you’re done, return to your seat, to your laptop, to pretending like everything is fine.

But just as you step back, Jungkook’s hand catches your wrist.

Before you can react, he tugs you closer, his warmth enveloping you as his large hand cups the side of your face, fingers splayed against your skin like he’s memorizing the feel of you. His touch is tender, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek, his dark eyes holding yours for a beat too long. like he’s seeing you, really seeing you, for the first time in days.

Then, he kisses you.

Warm & lingering. Like he actually means it. Like he actually feels it.

“Need it for good luck,” he mumbles lovingly against your lips, his voice deep, hushed.

You blink up at him.

Jungkook pulls back slightly, offering a small smile. “Big deal with the Kims today.”

And just like that, reality crashes back in.

Your mind struggles to process, to understand how he can be like this. How can he kiss you like this and still not remember.

His mind is somewhere else. His thoughts, his focus—none of it is here. None of it is with you.

You force a smile, nodding wordlessly. Because what else is there to say?

----

Jungkook moves around the house, gathering his things- his wallet, his keys. You stay where you are, settled on the couch with your laptop open, pretending to be busy, pretending that your heart isn’t sitting heavy in your chest.

Just as he’s about to leave, he steps toward you, bending down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

Before you can even respond, he’s already halfway through the living room, his focus elsewhere, his steps hurried.

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it.

You remember a time when things were different. When he used to whine, pout, and nudge you relentlessly if you didn’t say it back right away, just to tease him.

Flashback

The movie playing in the background had long been forgotten, the dialogue drowned out by the soft moans slipping from your lips. The purple neon glow cast dreamy hues across the living room, painting Jungkook’s skin in shades of violet as he moved above you.

His fingers laced tightly with yours, grip tightening slightly as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“J-Jungkook…” you moaned softly, nails digging into his hand.

He groaned against your neck, his breath hot, voice wrecked. “Fuck, baby…”

Your body arched beneath him, pleasure building to something uncontrollable. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, voice deep and rough, sending you tumbling over the edge.

You both unraveled together, gasping, shaking, holding onto each other like the world outside didn’t exist.

Jungkook pressed lazy, loving kisses all over your face, his lips brushing over your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. “You alright?” he whispered.

You nodded, a sleepy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. But then he just stared at you. A little too long. A little too intensely.

And then, barely above a whisper, like a secret meant only for you—he said, “I love you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, a playful grin tugging at the corner of your lips as you bit down on them, trying to contain your smile. He’d been saying it more often lately, slowly getting used to voicing what he felt.

But when you took a second too long to respond, he groaned dramatically, dropping his head into the crook of your neck like a kicked puppy.

“Say it back,” he grumbled.

“What?” you teased, laughing.

Jungkook huffed, then playfully bit down on your shoulder, just enough to make you squeal.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice muffled against your skin.

Still giggling, you cupped his face and pressed a soft kiss to his nose. “I love you, you big baby.”

His grin was instant, arms wrapping around you as he pulled you even closer, like he could never get enough.

End of Flashback

Now, he just says it in passing. quick, thoughtless, already moving on.

The front door clicks shut, and just like that, Jungkook is gone.

You sit there, fingers motionless on your laptop’s keyboard as the weight of what just happened settles deep in your chest. He forgot. He kissed you, held you, told you he loved you, but none of it was because he remembered.

Is this what your relationship has become?

Work, work, work. Always work.

It’s not that you expect Jungkook to run behind you all the time, to ditch his responsibilities just to shower you with affection. Hell, you supported him through everything- through college, through late nights chasing his dreams, through every stressful moment leading up to him becoming CEO. You believed in him.

But what about your love? Your marriage? Communication?

You’ve been patient. Too patient. more understanding than any normal wife would be. And you know Jungkook. You know he loves you, would bring you the whole damn world if you asked. But then why—why are you beginning to question it all?

Jungkook stepped into the CEO position a few months ago. At first, things were fine. He handled it well, still made time for you. But then… everything became about work. Slowly, then all at once.

You can’t even remember the last time you had truly loving sex. Not that Jungkook doesn’t love you but it doesn’t feel the same anymore. There’s tension in his touch, frustration in the way he moves against you. It’s not the warmth, the desperation to be close to you like it used to be.

Is this how life is going to be from now on?

Sure, you could talk to Jungkook about your feelings. Tell him that the distance is starting to feel unbearable.

But when?

When he’s always checking his phone? When he barely even looks at you in the mornings? When you feel like you’re living with the CEO rather than your husband?

Well, happy anniversary to you.

----

Your gaze drops to your hand, to the delicate band wrapped around your finger.

Your wedding ring.

For the first time in a long time, you really look at it- tracing the intricate details, the subtle shimmer in the morning light. And suddenly, it feels… heavier. Like you’re only noticing the weight of it now, as if it’s trying to remind you of everything it once meant.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, your fingers slip beneath the band, sliding it off. It’s only when the cool air brushes against your bare skin that it hits you.

Your breath catches, eyes widening at the sight of the ring resting in your palm. You hadn’t even thought about it—you just did it. And now, staring at the small, beautiful piece of jewelry, something inside you cracks. Tears gather before you can stop them.

Jungkook had spent weeks searching for this ring. Dragged you to countless jewelry stores, analyzing every cut, every design, obsessed with finding the perfect one. And no matter how many times you had told him that anything would make you happy, he had refused to settle for less.

"It has to be special," he had murmured against your temple the day he finally found it, slipping it onto your finger with the softest smile. "Because you’re special."

A broken sob escapes your throat as you clutch the ring tightly in your palm.

How did you end up here?

----

Jungkook leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches the final contract details appear on his screen. The deal with the Kims had gone smoothly, better than expected, actually. It should’ve been a moment of satisfaction, of relief.

Instead, he just drowns himself in more work.

The hours blur together, his coffee going cold beside him as he moves from one task to another. Another meeting. Another report. Another email. The same routine, the same cycle.

It’s later than evening when a familiar voice interrupts the quiet hum of his office.

“So you’re really here.”

Jungkook glances up, his fingers still typing as Taehyung steps into his cabin, arms crossed, a deep frown on his face.

“Hey, hyung,” Jungkook greets, barely looking away from his screen.

Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head playfully. “I really didn’t believe it when Yuna said you were still in your cabin.”

Jungkook blinks, confused. “Why?”

Taehyung gives him a look like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Y/N must really love you to let you work even today. My wife—dude, she would’ve killed me.”

Jungkook hums absentmindedly, still typing, still lost in work. “Mmm.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, watching him for a second before letting out a chuckle. “Anyways, you’re still an asshole for working on your anniversary.”

Jungkook’s fingers freeze over the keyboard. The realization crashes into him all at once, like a punch to the gut, like ice spreading through his veins.

Fuck.

Jungkook’s fingers hover motionless over the keyboard.

His mind races to catch up with Taehyung’s words, but they don’t make sense. Not right away.

Anniversary?

No, that can’t be right. His brows furrow slightly as he glances at the date on his laptop screen.

November 22.

His wedding anniversary.

For a second, he just stares, as if the numbers might shift into something else, something that doesn’t prove what an absolute idiot he’s been. His heartbeat picks up, but his body doesn’t move. It’s like his brain refuses to register it fully, like if he doesn’t react, it won’t be real.

He’d forgotten.

Completely.

No hints, no reminders, no last-minute realization before heading out this morning. Just an entire day of emails, meetings, and a deal he had been so damn focused on that he hadn’t even spared a single thought for you.

His wife.

But—no, that can’t be right. He would’ve remembered. He should’ve remembered.

His jaw tightens, his mind scrambling for some excuse, some reason. anything to justify how this happened. But no matter how many ways he tries to twist it, the truth doesn’t change.

You had expected something. Of course you had. And Jungkook had given you nothing.

Taehyung’s voice barely registers now, his casual teasing just background noise to the way Jungkook’s pulse is starting to hammer against his ribs.

His wife. His love. His anniversary.

And he had let it pass him by like it was just another day.

How the fuck is he supposed to fix this?

Taehyung squints at Jungkook, waiting for some kind of reaction. When Jungkook stays quiet, his fingers frozen over the keyboard, Taehyung lets out a sharp laugh.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He leans forward, palms flat on Jungkook’s desk. “You just realized, didn’t you?”

Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Hyung, not now.”

“Oh, no. Especially now,” Taehyung shoots back, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Y/N must really love you to put up with this shit.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, his mind already spiraling. He checks the time—late. The entire day is gone. He’s spent hours sitting here, drowning himself in work while you—

Fuck.

He pushes his chair back abruptly, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. His coat is next, yanked from the back of his chair as he moves on instinct.

“Whoa, whoa.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “So now you care?”

Jungkook levels him with a glare, his voice lower, sharper. “Hyung.”

Taehyung lifts his hands in surrender, though his smirk lingers. “Go. Try not to get divorced on your second anniversary.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for another word. He’s already out the door, moving faster than he has all day.

And for the first time today, work is the last thing on his mind.

----

Jungkook’s mind races as he grips the steering wheel, his fingers tightening with every passing second. The city lights blur past, but all he can focus on is the suffocating weight in his chest.

How the fuck did he forget?

His phone vibrates in the passenger seat- probably another work email but for the first time in months, he ignores it. Instead, he swipes through his contacts, pressing the first name that comes to mind.

“Pick up, pick up,” he mutters, jaw clenched as the dial tone rings.

“Yes, Mr.Jeon?”

“Yuna.” His voice is rushed, urgent. “I need you to get me something. Flowers. A gift. Something big—just—fuck, anything.”

A pause. “Sir?”

“Now,” he snaps.

There’s a shuffle on the other end before his assistant hesitantly speaks again. “I…Mr.Jeon, it’s almost 10 p.m. Most places are closed.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. Of course they are. Because he’s too fucking late.

His grip tightens around the wheel. “Just—check. Call whoever. I’ll pay whatever.”

“Understood,” Yuna replies before hanging up.

What the fuck is he even doing?

No expensive gift, no overpriced bouquet, no last-minute grand gesture can erase the fact that he forgot. That he spent an entire day drowning in work while you—his wife, his love, the woman who has stood by him through everything—sat at home, waiting for him to remember.

His hands clench the wheel.

How much had he missed? How much had he ignored?

And the worst part—the part that makes his pulse spike, that has panic clawing at his ribs is the question he doesn’t have an answer to.

What if you’re done waiting?

Jungkook slams his foot down on the gas.

He’s not losing you. He won’t.

----

Jungkook steps into the house, and immediately, something feels off. The air is still. The silence stretches, suffocating, pressing against his chest. Almost all the lights are off, the space eerily empty, like no one has been here for hours.

His throat dries. “Baby?”

No answer.

He frowns, dropping his keys onto the counter with a sharp clink. His feet move quickly, checking the kitchen, the living room, even the hallway leading to the bedroom. nothing.

A weird feeling starts creeping up his spine. His heart beats faster as he strides toward the bedroom door, only to find the bed untouched, the sheets exactly the way he had left them this morning.

You’re not here.

His pulse spikes, a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck. His hands tremble as he yanks his phone out, immediately dialing your number.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

Straight to voicemail.

His stomach drops. A shaky breath escapes him as he stares at his screen, the call log mocking him with the lack of response. His fingers tighten around the device, his mind spiraling.

Where are you? At this time of night, alone- where could you have gone?

The walls feel like they’re closing in on him. His lungs strain for air.

Then, another thought claws its way in, violent and unwelcome.

Did you leave?

No. No. His chest tightens, his breath coming faster now. That’s not—that’s not possible. You wouldn’t just leave him. You wouldn’t—

He swallows hard, shaking his head. Don’t go there, Jungkook. Don’t even fucking go there.

But the panic is already curling around his ribs, suffocating, unrelenting.

You’re not here. And right now, that is the worst fucking thing in the world.

Jungkook’s fingers tremble as he redials your number.

Voicemail. Again.

“Fuck.” His breath comes out uneven, panic clawing at his throat. His hands are clammy, his chest tightening with every passing second. Where are you?

His mind is spiraling now, every worst-case scenario flashing through his head. His jaw clenches as he swipes to his contact list calling your friends.

Each time, the same response.

No, I haven’t seen her.

Did you check with—

Wait, what’s going on?

Jungkook grits his teeth, his hand tightening into a fist. His breathing is shallow, his pulse out of control. You weren’t with your friends. You weren’t picking up. You weren’t home.

And he still had no idea where you were.

Jungkook grabs his car keys with shaky hands, his mind racing. He doesn’t know where to go, doesn’t have a plan. All he knows is that he has to find you.

His feet move on instinct, carrying him toward the door. But just as he reaches for the handle, something catches his eye.

A small glint.

His breath stills. His gaze shifts toward the couch, and that’s when he sees it.

Your wedding ring.

Sitting there. Abandoned.

For a moment, everything stops. The pounding in his chest, the rush of his movements. Everything.

The air in the room feels heavier, suffocating. His fingers twitch at his sides as he stares at the delicate band, his stomach twisting into something painful.

You never took it off. Never.

Jungkook swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He steps forward, slowly, almost cautiously, like touching it will somehow make this nightmare real.

His hand trembles as he picks it up, the cool metal pressing into his palm..

Jungkook stares at the ring in his palm, his vision blurring as a lump lodges itself in his throat. Tears burn at the corners of his eyes, his chest tightening painfully.

You wouldn’t just leave him like that… would you?

The thought alone knocks the air from his lungs. His grip on the ring tightens as his mind spirals, drowning in questions that only make the ache worse.

Were you thinking about this before today?

How long have you been feeling like this, so alone, so unloved that taking off your ring even crossed your mind?

A sharp breath escapes him, shaky and uneven. His knees buckle, and before he can stop himself, he’s sinking onto the floor, the weight of everything crashing down at once.

The ring feels heavier than it should, pressing into his palm like a cruel reminder of everything he’s neglected, everything he’s taken for granted. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling a slow, trembling breath.

He needs to find you. He needs to fix this.

Before it’s too late.

Jungkook exhales shakily, forcing himself to move. His legs feel unsteady, but he pushes through, gripping the wedding ring so tightly it bites into his skin.

Somehow, he manages to stand, his entire body tense with desperation. He stumbles toward the door, his heart pounding, his mind racing with every possibility of where you could be.

But just as his fingers reach for the handle—

The door swings open.

And there you are.

Jungkook freezes, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, everything stills. His panic, his thoughts, his entire world narrowing to the sight of you standing in front of him.

In the blink of an eye, he moves.

He crashes into you, arms wrapping around you so tightly it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. His grip is desperate, his hands fisting into your clothes, his entire body pressing against yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You stand there, stunned, your own arms hovering slightly, unsure of what just happened.

"…Jungkook?” your voice comes out confused, hesitant.

But he just clings to you, burying his face into your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin.

You don’t know what’s going on.

But Jungkook?

He feels like he just got his heart beating again. You feel the way his body trembles against yours, his grip impossibly tight, like he’s holding onto you for dear life.

Then, the sound reaches you. A broken, uneven breath, followed by the unmistakable hitch of a sob.

Your heart clenches. “Kook…” Your voice is soft, laced with worry as you try to pull back, just enough to see his face. But he doesn’t let you. His arms only tighten, his body curling into yours, as if letting go would physically hurt him.

Panic bubbles in your chest, your hands instinctively reaching up to cradle his face, your fingers threading into his hair. “Hey… what happened?” Your voice wavers slightly. “Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

But Jungkook just shakes his head against your shoulder, another quiet, shaky breath leaving him.

You don’t understand.

But whatever this is, whatever’s breaking him like this—your own heart aches just watching him fall apart. Your concern deepens with every shaky breath that leaves Jungkook. He’s still clinging to you, his body trembling slightly, his face buried against your shoulder like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t know what’s wrong, but seeing him like this—Jungkook, your Jungkook—completely unraveling, is enough to make panic rise in your chest.

Gently, you pull back, your hands cupping his face. His skin is warm, slightly damp from his tears, and when his glassy eyes finally meet yours, your stomach twists painfully.

“Come inside,” you whisper, your voice softer now, coaxing. “Please.”

He swallows thickly, nodding ever so slightly, but his grip on you doesn’t fully loosen. You guide him inside anyway, one hand wrapped around his wrist as you lead him toward the couch.

He sits down heavily, elbows resting on his knees, fingers threading through his hair as he exhales shakily. His shoulders are still tense, his whole body radiating something raw and unspoken.

You kneel in front of him, reaching for his hands, but he doesn’t lift his head.

Your worry deepens. “Jungkook… please tell me what’s wrong.” Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. His fingers twitch against his temples, his breath uneven.

“I—” His voice is hoarse, cracking slightly. He swallows hard, gripping his knees. “I thought you left me.”

You blink, his words settling in, but it takes you a moment to fully process them.

He thought you left him?

Your brows furrow slightly as you shake your head. “Jungkook, I was babysitting Hanuel.”

His breath is still uneven, his hands gripping his knees like he’s trying to ground himself. His eyes flick up to meet yours, confused, searching.

“Hana and Seokjin had a date night,” you explain gently. “They asked me to watch him for a few hours.”

Hanuel, your neighbour's son. Jungkook stares at you, his body still tense, like his mind hasn’t caught up yet. You watch as his lips part slightly, his gaze flickering between you and the ring still clutched in his hand.

His fingers tighten around it, his knuckles paling. A beat of silence passes before he swallows thickly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“…Then why was this on the couch?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, fragile and uncertain, as if he’s afraid of the answer. And for the first time tonight, you don’t know what to say.

“I…” The word barely escapes your lips before you stand up, turning away from him. You can’t meet his eyes, not when your emotions are still raw, not when the weight of everything is pressing so heavily on your chest.

Jungkook notices immediately. Panic flickers across his face, and in an instant, he’s scrambling up after you. “Wait—baby, please.” His voice is desperate now, thick with emotion, his hands reaching out like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, stepping closer, his tone cracking under the weight of his own guilt. “I—fuck, I forgot—I don’t know how, I don’t even have an excuse, but—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head, his eyes glassy as they plead with yours.

“I never meant to make you feel like this,” he whispers. “I swear, I didn’t.” But you still don’t look at him. And that alone is enough to make his heart sink.

You swallow hard, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stare at the floor. His words, his desperation, his guilt—they all swirl around you, but they don’t erase the ache in your chest.

“Do you even realize how much this hurt?” Your voice is quiet, but the weight of it makes Jungkook flinch. “I spent the entire day thinking—hoping—that maybe you had something planned. That maybe you were just pretending to forget.”

Jungkook’s throat bobs as he steps closer, hesitating before reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, but you don’t hold onto him either.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know I fucked up, baby. I—I was so caught up in work, I just…” He trails off, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s not an excuse. Nothing is. I should’ve remembered. I should’ve been there.”

You let out a hollow laugh, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “Jungkook… this isn’t just about today.”

His brows furrow, but he doesn’t interrupt.

You take a shaky breath. “It’s been weeks..maybe even longer—since I felt like your wife instead of just… someone waiting for you to come home.” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “And it’s not that I don’t understand. I do. I’ve always understood. But at what point do I stop being understanding and start being invisible to you?”

Jungkook’s breath catches, his grip on your hand tightening like he’s afraid to let go. “You’re not invisible,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “You never could be.”

“Then why do I feel like I am?”

Silence.

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he exhales unsteadily. “I never wanted to make you feel this way,” he murmurs. “You are everything to me, baby. Everything. I don’t even know who I am without you.”

Your eyes sting, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Then show me, Jungkook. Because I can’t keep being the only one fighting for us.” The vulnerability in your voice nearly breaks him.

He’s been losing you, piece by piece, for a while now. And he hadn’t even noticed.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop, the weight of your words hitting harder than any argument, any fight you could have thrown at him. His grip on your hand tightens, but you don’t squeeze back.

He’s losing you.

And it’s not because of one forgotten anniversary—it’s because he hasn’t been here.

He swallows hard. “Baby…” His voice cracks, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, but you step back before he can touch you.

The distance, however small, is enough to make his chest ache.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice barely holding together. “When was the last time we sat down and had breakfast together? When was the last time you really looked at me—not just kissed me on the forehead before rushing out the door?” You shake your head, a bitter chuckle escaping. “When was the last time we made love without it feeling like you were trying to release your stress instead of loving me?”

Jungkook’s breath hitches.

You let out a slow exhale, your voice calmer now but even heavier with hurt. “I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need fancy gifts or a picture-perfect romance. I just… needed you to see me.”

His entire body feels cold. Because the truth is—he doesn’t have an answer.

He’s been so caught up in his responsibilities, his work, his stress, that he’s let the one person who has always been there for him slip through his fingers.

And the worst part? He didn’t even realize it was happening until now.

“Fuck.” His voice is raw, his hands running through his hair as he looks at you, really looks at you. At the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips tremble slightly like you’re holding back everything.

His heart clenches painfully. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you hold his gaze for a long moment before whispering, “I don’t know, Jungkook. Did you?”

Jungkook's breath is unsteady, his chest rising and falling too quickly as he stares at you, at the distance between you, the weight of your words suffocating him.

He moves. Before you can react, his hands are cupping your face, his touch desperate, almost shaky. His forehead presses against yours as he exhales a trembling breath, like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I see you,” he whispers, his voice raw, strained. “I swear to god, I see you, baby. I just..I lost myself somewhere along the way, and I didn’t even realize I was dragging us down with me.”

His thumbs brush over your cheekbones, a silent plea laced in his touch. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Your heart clenches, but you don’t push him away. You should- you should make him sit with this, make him feel what it’s been like for you all this time. But then his grip tightens, his voice breaking.

“Please, baby.” His lips hover just above yours, not quite touching, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me it’s not too late.”

His vulnerability shakes you to your core.

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want to lose us either, Jungkook,” you whisper. “But I can’t keep being the only one holding on.”

Jungkook shakes his head instantly. “You’re not. You won’t be.” His lips ghost over your forehead before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “Let me prove it to you. Please.”

His desperation is tangible, seeping into every word, every touch. And for the first time tonight, you wonder if maybe, just maybe—he really does see you now.

Jungkook watches you, searching for something—anything in your eyes that tells him he hasn’t completely lost you.

Before doubt can settle in, he takes your hand, pressing it over his chest, right where his heart is hammering wildly. “Feel that?” he whispers. “That’s what you do to me, baby. Always.”

Your fingers twitch against his shirt, but you don’t pull away. You don’t move at all, just staring up at him, your expression unreadable.

He swallows hard. “I know I don’t say it enough. I know I don’t show it enough, but fuck, Y/n—” His hands tighten around yours, his voice barely above a breath. “There is nothing in this world that matters more to me than you.”

You let out a slow exhale, your gaze flickering, like you want to believe him. like a part of you does, but the hurt is still too fresh. So he gives you more.

“I’ll fix this,” he promises, his thumb brushing soft circles over your wrist. “Not with flowers, or gifts, or some last-minute bullshit—but with me. With us.”

His voice drops lower, thick with emotion. “Just tell me it’s not too late.” Your lips part slightly, but you don’t speak. Instead, you finally—finally press your palm flat against his chest, feeling the way his heart beats erratically beneath your touch.

It’s enough to break something inside Jungkook. His grip tightens as he leans in, his lips brushing against your temple, then your cheek—slow, hesitant, as if he’s still afraid you’ll slip away.

And when you don’t, when you let him, he exhales a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours once more.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Like if he says it enough, he can make up for all the times he didn’t. And maybe, just maybe—you’ll believe him again.

Jungkook’s breath is warm against your skin, his forehead still pressed against yours, his grip on you unwavering. His words linger in the air between you. raw, desperate, filled with a love that had always been there, even when he’d failed to show it.

You swallow hard, blinking against the tears clouding your vision. He’s waiting—watching you so intently, so hopelessly, as if your next words will either put him back together or completely shatter him.

You take a shaky breath. “Jungkook…” Your voice wavers, and his grip tightens instinctively. “I love you too.”

A sharp exhale leaves him, his entire body sinking slightly in relief. But before he can say anything, you continue. “But this hurt,” you whisper. “More than you realize.”

Jungkook stiffens, nodding quickly, his hands cupping your face again, his thumbs brushing away the tears that slip down your cheeks. “I know, baby. I know. And I hate myself for it.” His voice cracks, his jaw clenching before he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a second, exhaling slowly. “I don’t want promises, Jungkook,” you murmur. “I just… I need to feel like I matter to you again.”

His hands tremble slightly as they slide down, wrapping around yours. He lifts them to his lips, pressing gentle, reverent kisses to each of your knuckles, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“You do,” he whispers. “More than anything. And I’m going to spend every damn day proving that to you.” His voice is steady now. no hesitation, no doubt. Just quiet, determined love. And though the ache in your chest hasn’t fully faded, something shifts.

Because this time, you don’t just hear him. You believe him. Even if just a little.

Jungkook presses another lingering kiss against your knuckles, his touch reverent, as if grounding himself in you. But before he can lose himself completely, you gently murmur, “Have you eaten?”

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He shakes his head, gaze still searching yours. “No… I—"

“Go freshen up,” you say softly, stepping back just a little. “We’ll eat together.”

His fingers twitch against yours, hesitating to let go, but eventually, he nods. With one last glance—like he’s making sure you’re really here, he pulls away and heads toward the shower.

While he’s gone, you move to the kitchen, setting out dinner in quiet contemplation. The ache in your chest hasn’t completely faded, but there’s something else now- a warmth that wasn’t there before.

----

By the time Jungkook emerges, hair damp, dressed in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants, you’ve already placed the food on the table.

He hesitates for only a second before joining you, sliding into his chair. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice softer now.

You nod, offering a small smile as you take a seat. The conversation is light, effortless. Jungkook fills the silence, stealing glances at you like he’s still memorizing you all over again. And through it all, his hand never leaves yours, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

After dinner, he helps with the dishes, working beside you in quiet understanding. The air between you feels lighter, yet still fragile, like something delicate being pieced back together.

Jungkook sets the last dish onto the drying rack, wiping his hands on the towel before turning to you. There’s a soft, almost hopeful look in his eyes, like he’s clinging to this moment.

You step away, hesitating for just a second before opening the refrigerator. Jungkook watches in silence as you carefully pull out the cake, placing on the counter, your fingers grazing the edges of the plate, before finally speaking.

“I…I’d made this.”

The words are quiet, but they hit harder than any raised voice ever could. Jungkook’s entire body stiffening as guilt crashes into him all over again. His eyes flicker to the cake- to the careful details, the effort, the thought you had put into it, for him. And suddenly, it feels like the walls are caving in.

His throat tightens. His fingers curl at his sides. He can’t look at you. He doesn’t deserve to. Tears gather in his eyes, blurring his vision, his heart breaking all over again, not just because he forgot today, but because he had broken you in so many ways without even realizing it.

And that? That’s something he doesn’t know how to forgive himself for.

“Jungkook..”, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the heavy silence like a knife.

He wants to look at you, wants to say something—anything, but he can’t. His head remains bowed, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, as if holding himself together takes everything in him.

You take a small step forward, the space between you feeling larger than it actually is. His silence is deafening.

“Jungkook,” you say again, a little firmer this time.

His lips part, a shaky breath slipping through, but no words come out. He wants to speak, to apologize again, to tell you how much he loves you, to somehow fix this- but his throat feels tight, his chest heavy.

He doesn’t know if words are enough.

“I… I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice trembling as he finally speaks. His hands shake at his sides, his eyes still glassy with unshed tears. “I’ve been an asshole—a terrible husband. I don’t even know how to make this right.” His breath stutters, his words spilling out faster now, raw and desperate.

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if you left me,” he continues, shaking his head. “You should’ve. You deserve better. I—I can’t believe I—”

“Jungkook.”

You don’t let him finish.

Instead, you reach up, cupping his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that have already begun to fall. His lips part in surprise, his rambling cut off as you rise onto your toes.

A gentle kiss on his lips.

Soft. Loving.

Tear-streaked and real.

Jungkook exhales shakily against your lips, his whole body melting into yours. His hands find your waist, holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

The kiss is slow, there's no desperation, no urgency. Just you and him, emotions bare. Tears continue to slip down your cheeks, mixing with his, salty and warm, but neither of you pull away. Because in this moment, there’s no need for words.

Just this.

Just love.

When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing heavily, your tears still wet against each other’s skin. Jungkook’s grip on your waist is firm, like he’s grounding himself in your touch, afraid to let go. His lips part, like he wants to speak, but before he can, you whisper,

“You’re not a terrible husband, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes glisten with more unshed tears, his lips pressing into a thin line, unable to speak. You wipe his tears away with your thumbs, offering him the smallest smile. “Just… love me better, okay?”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard, nodding again, more determined this time. “I will.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you believe him.

You press one last gentle kiss to his cheek before stepping back, glancing at the cake still sitting on the counter. “Come on,” you say, nudging him lightly. “Let’s cut this before it melts.”

Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, wiping at his face as he nods. He steps beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours again as you both move toward the small cake. The two of you cut into it together, Jungkook’s fingers lacing through yours around the knife handle. He doesn’t let go, even as you both take small bites in comfortable silence.

Once the plates are cleared, you tug at his wrist, nodding toward the bedroom. “Come to bed?”

Jungkook exhales, relief washing over his features as he nods. “Yeah.”

A few minutes later, you’re both under the covers, warmth surrounding you as Jungkook pulls you against his chest. His arms wrap tightly around you, his breath fanning against the top of your head as he whispers,

“I love you.”

This time, you don’t hesitate to say it back.

“I love you too, Jungkook.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in his arms, where you’ve always belonged.

Jungkook’s fingers still tremble against your skin. Even as he holds you, his grip is laced with hesitance, a silent fear lingering beneath the warmth of his touch. It’s in the way his hands press into your back yet remain careful, as if he’s afraid of holding on too tightly.

You can feel the erratic thud of his heart beneath your palm, his breaths uneven, his chest rising and falling as if he’s struggling to keep himself steady.

And something about that, about him—makes your own heart ache.

Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your eyes locking onto his in the dim glow of the room. His lips part slightly, his gaze unreadable, but the moment you lean in, his breath catches.

You kiss him.

It starts soft, so gentle, full of longing. Filled with everything you can’t put into words.

Jungkook melts into it instantly, his grip on you tightening, pulling you impossibly closer. The warmth of his lips, the slight hitch in his breath when you press harder. It sends a familiar heat curling through you.

The kiss deepens, your fingers gripping his t-shirt with urgency, needing to feel more. It’s desperate, heady, the space between you charged with something deeper than just want—something raw, something that had been missing for too long.

Jungkook pulls back gently. His forehead stays pressed against yours, both of you panting softly, but his hands shake slightly as they hold you in place.

His lips part, his breath uneven. “I… we shouldn’t…” He swallows hard, voice thick with hesitation. “I mean… I don’t want you to think I’m gonna fix this with sex.”

His words cut through the haze of warmth between you, grounding you both back in reality. You understand. Because even now—even now, he’s afraid. Afraid that this isn’t enough. Afraid that he isn’t enough.

Your eyes soften as you take in his hesitance, the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his breath trembles against your skin.

You reach up, your fingers threading gently through his hair. “I’m never gonna think like that, Kook,” you murmur, your voice quiet but sure.

His lips part slightly, his brows still knitted in concern, but before he can say anything, you lean in again. This time, the kiss is softer, filled with nothing but love.

You linger for a moment, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “I just… I need you.” Another soft kiss. “Please.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, his entire body shuddering under the weight of your words.

And just like that, whatever hesitation he had left—it’s gone.

Your breaths grow uneven as your lips move against his, the heat between you intensifying with every passing second.

Jungkook shifts, his body hovering over yours, his weight pressing down just enough to make you feel him. His hands slip beneath the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing, his touch still hesitant, fingertips ghosting over your waist like he’s memorizing the feel of you all over again.

But you don’t want hesitation.

You tug at his shirt, a silent plea, and Jungkook obeys without question, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Before he can think, you pull him back in, capturing his lips in another deep, hungry kiss.

A quiet groan escapes him, his hands finally exploring freely, pressing against your skin, feeling the warmth beneath his palms. His lips leave yours only to trail down your neck, his breath warm as he presses soft, lingering kisses there.

You shiver when he reaches the collar of your shirt, your own hands moving to help him remove it. Dark, love-filled eyes roam over every inch of your skin, his lips parting slightly, as if he’s trying to find the words but nothing he could say would ever be enough. Still, he tries.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “So fucking perfect.”

Your breath catches when he lowers himself again, his lips planting soft, reverent kisses along your collarbone, trailing lower over your shoulder, your chest. Your husband's mouth mapping you like you’re something sacred.

His lips slowly wrap around one breast, his tongue flicking teasingly before sucking softly. A moan escapes you, your fingers tangling into his hair, tugging lightly as he hums against your skin. His other hand moves to your neglected breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak as he keeps mouthing sweet nothings against you.

“You’re everything,” he whispers between kisses, his voice muffled against your skin. “I love you so much, baby.”

And as the heat between you builds, his touch grows bolder. A desperate whimper escapes your lips as your fingers tangle deeper into Jungkook’s hair, your body arching toward him, silently pleading for more.

He groans against your skin, the sound low and warm, vibrating through you. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs, pressing another lingering kiss to your chest before trailing lower, his lips tracing the curves of your body. “Let me take my time… let me make love to you.”

The way he says it, love—makes your stomach tighten, your heart aching as much as your body craves him. His hands glide down your waist, slow and purposeful, before slipping between your legs. His fingers find the damp fabric of your panties, pressing just lightly enough to make you gasp. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing his touch, and Jungkook groans at the feeling.

His dark eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod, unable to form words, and that’s all he needs.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he tugs your panties down, dragging them slowly along your legs before discarding them somewhere behind him. His gaze never leaves you as he lowers himself further, trailing kisses down your stomach, over the sensitive skin of your hips.

He settles between your legs. You feel completely bare under his intense gaze, the way his lips part slightly, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with something reverent, something devoted. His hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs brushing along your skin in slow, soothing circles.

“My wife.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, making your core clench in anticipation.

Finally, he closes his mouth around you. One long, slow stroke of his tongue, and you fall apart instantly, a breathless moan slipping from your lips as your head tilts back against the pillows.

Jungkook hums against you, pleased, his hands gripping your thighs as he licks another slow, teasing stripe through your folds. “So fucking sweet,” he groans, the heat of his breath against your slick skin making your body tremble. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

He isn't just making love, he's devouring you.

Jungkook hums against you, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his tongue moves with slow, deliberate strokes. learning you all over again, savoring every little gasp and shudder that escapes you.

“Jungkook—” Your voice is breathless, almost pleading, your fingers tightening in his hair, tugging him closer.

He groans at that, the sound reverberating through your core as he laps at you with more purpose. His tongue flicks over your clit, teasing, testing, before he sucks gently, making your back arch off the bed.

“Fuck—” You whimper, your thighs threatening to close around his head, but his strong hands keep you spread wide, completely at his mercy.

His lips brushing your sensitive skin as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. His lips are slick, his dark eyes burning with desire.

Your cheeks burn, he dives back in, this time with more urgency. His tongue moves in tight circles, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and deeper, firmer licks that have your breath hitching.

One hand slides up your stomach, fingers splaying across your skin before reaching your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers. The combined sensation makes your thighs tremble, a moan tearing from your lips as your hips buck against his mouth.

Jungkook groans, clearly enjoying how responsive you are, his grip on you tightening as he eats you out like it’s his last meal. He flicks his tongue over your clit again, then sucks, harder this time, sending sparks shooting through your body.

“-fuck, Jungkook—” Your head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, coiling tight in your stomach.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against you, “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

The heat inside you is unbearable now, hot and consuming. You nod desperately, your moans spilling freely as you grip his hair, your body teetering on the edge. Jungkook doesn’t stop. He pushes you closer, his mouth working you over with expert precision, his hands holding you steady as your body starts to tremble.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispers against your heat. “Let me taste you.”

And with one final flick of his tongue, you shatter. Pleasure crashes over you, your back arching, thighs trembling as you moan his name like a prayer. Jungkook groans, drinking in everything you give him, his hands stroking your body as he helps you ride it out.

Only when your body goes slack does he finally pull away, pressing soft kisses against your inner thighs, his voice thick with pride and adoration. “You’re so perfect,” he breathes between kisses, his voice thick with adoration. “My love. My wife.”

Jungkook moves up, trailing kisses along your body, over your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone. When he reaches your lips, he captures them in a deep, languid kiss, his hands cradling your face like you’re something fragile, something cherished.

Your fingers roam over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles before moving lower, brushing over his abdomen until you reach the hardness straining against his sweats.

A groan rumbles from his chest at your touch, his hips twitching into your palm as you cup him, feeling just how ready he is.

“Baby…” he breathes against your lips, voice thick with want. You tug at the waistband of his pants, wordlessly asking for more. Jungkook obliges, sitting back just enough to push them down, kicking them off entirely.

He’s fully hard, the sight of him making your stomach tighten, heat pooling between your legs again. But before you can even reach for him Jungkook takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The intimacy of it overwhelming.

His other hand moves between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, searching, making sure-

With a final nod from you, he pushes in, slow and careful, stretching you inch by inch.

A soft moan escapes your lips, but Jungkook kisses you instantly, swallowing the sound, his own groan muffled against your mouth as he sinks deeper. The moment he’s fully inside, he stills, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing you in. And as he holds you close, as your bodies mold together so seamlessly, you realize- this isn't just sex.

This is home.

Jungkook moves slowly, each roll of his hips deep and deliberate, as if he’s trying to make up for every moment he let slip away. His body is pressed flush against yours, warmth seeping into every inch of your skin, his breath shaky against your lips as he kisses you between each movement.

Your fingers dig softly into his back, nails pressing just enough to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him. One hand moves to his hair, your fingers threading through the strands, tugging gently as his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that make your heart ache.

It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s love.

And then, suddenly, you feel it.

A faint tremble against your body.

Something warm and wet against your neck where Jungkook has buried his face.

Your breath catches as realization dawns- he’s crying. Tears gather in your own eyes without warning, the sheer weight of the moment crashing over you all at once.

You tighten your hold on him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you press a soft kiss into his hair. “Kook…” you whisper, your voice barely holding steady.

He shudders at your touch, at the way you hold him, like you’re not just letting him fall apart but falling apart with him.

“I—” His voice cracks as he exhales shakily, his thrusts faltering for a moment. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His lips find your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he presses kisses there—apology after apology, praise after praise.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs between kisses, his words thick with emotion. “You always have been.” A tear slips down your cheek as you cup his face, guiding him up until his forehead rests against yours.

“I know,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I know, Jungkook.”

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss slow and deep, his movements resuming, gentle but full of something raw, something unspoken. His hands grip your waist tighter, his body moving in perfect sync with yours, as if this moment is rewriting everything.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, voice laced with love. “I’ll always have you.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping you tighter, his lips pressing against your shoulder, his movements slowing but never stopping. You can feel the love in every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath against your skin.

And when the pleasure builds to its peak, you come undone together, your bodies melting into one as waves of warmth crash over you. His name spills from your lips, his deep groan following right after, his arms holding you so tight you swear he never plans on letting go.

Silence lingers, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space. Then, Jungkook shifts, lifting his head just enough to press the softest kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse but full of devotion. “I don’t deserve you… but I swear, I’ll spend my life proving that I do.”

You cup his face, your thumb brushing away the remnants of dried tears. “Just love me like this, Jungkook,” you whisper, voice steady. “That’s all I need.”

His hands tightening around you as his forehead presses against yours. “I’ll love you more,” he vows, his voice breaking slightly. “More than this, more than anything. Always.” His words settle deep in your chest, warm and real, and when he pulls you impossibly closer, tucking you into his arms, you believe him.

His heartbeat is steady now, no longer frantic with fear. Just warm, solid, home.

As sleep begins to pull you under, you hear him whisper one last thing against your hair.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

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

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queeniewithabeanie · 6 months ago

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The Baby Bat and his Mentor

Dpxdc Prompt #13

"Train me."

"No."

Danny didn't know why or how this kid had found him, but he most certainly did not want to train him to become a vigilante and then die on the job.

"Train me."

"No."

The kid obviously had some sort of formal training in martial arts. There was a certain way the shadows clung to him that made him seem... experienced even though he most certainly was not. He was definitely determined enough to become a teenage vigilante if not given proper guidance.

"Train me."

"Fine! But we're doing it my way kid. What's your name?"

"I am Bruce Wayne."

"First rule of the job kid, when someone asks your name and you are presenting yourself in your vigilante identity you give them a vigilante name. You do not want overlap, keep the identities separate."

Even if Wes was the only one to figure it out, Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom had a lot of similarities he had to weed out as he realized how dangerous they were to his livelihood. The only reason he wasn't immediately found out by everyone including his parents was that Danny Phantom was dead and Danny Fenton was not.

Bruce would not have that same luxury and would need to thoroughly separate himself from his vigilante persona.

"Now again, what is your name?"

"..."

"Don't got all day kid."

"I am... Batman."

This was clearly an important moment for the kid, but it took everything Danny had to not laugh at him in that moment. The way he tried to growl out his codename would have been intimidating, if not for the voice crack accompanying it.

"Alright then Batsy, rule number two is no vigilante-ing 'til you're 20. Teenage vigilantes get killed and make dumb mistakes, I should know."

"Wha- No! I need to protect Gotham, I can't wait 4 more years to do that!"

It's the first time he had heard any lilt to his voice and it was clear that he felt strongly about this matter, but Danny wouldn't budge.

"Nope, you wait 'til the teen gets out of your age or I don't train you. And rule number three, which is kind of an extension of rule number one, don't give out any personal information in your vigilante identity. I know you're 16 now, and I wasn't even attempting to extract info from you."

The kid made a growling sound again, but it felt more like a puppy dog yip to Danny, actually reminded him of Cujo a bit.

"Fine..." He forced out, realizing that Danny was not going to move an inch and that Bruce did have a lot to learn from him. He'd already been taught three things he hadn't considered in the past five minutes.

"Good, training starts tomorrow Baby Bat, meet at Nasty Burger, come in civies."

Bonus! Bruce: tries to make dick, a nine year old, wait til he's 20 to go out into the streets of gotham like danny did to him Also Bruce: can't even get him to wait til he's ten Danny: i don't know where, but my bruce-is-doing-something-stupid-and-potentially-harmful-sense is tingling and i don't like it!

#dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #bruce wayne #mentorship #danny mentors bruce instead of the other way around #this was originally supposed to be about damian #but i think its so much funnier w/bruce #and it becomes both more ironic and makes more sense with b #bruce literally came knocking on danny's door and was just like “train me”#queenie-prompts

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arolesbianism · 1 year ago

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The sadness and agony that emerges everytime I start a new oni save and am forced to remember what it's like to have a dupe without a hat only to put them in a hat because I think they'd look cute only to remember hats make half of them look bald but I spent this long maxing out a skill for them so Im too stubborn to back down and remove the hat

#rat rambles #oni posting #it wouldnt be nearly as much of a problem if dupes didnt all have the same like 3 faces that I suck ass at differenciating at a glance #the amount of times Ive mixed up my maes and nikolas makes me sad Im sorry mae no one should be mistaken with nikola #if I knew how to acess the animation files Id be tempted to make a mod to change it but I dont so Im not #but imagine how cute itd be if abe and nikola had their side spikes stiking out from the sides of their hats #couldnt save the super short haired ppl tho sorry ren ari travaldo turner ruby and probably others too #speaking of my ari I keep mistaking my hassan for ari even tho I dont have an ari yet sorry bestie #hes my main storage and cleaning guy which is the role ari is in my other save #anyways the new save is continuing to go well even if things have slowed down a lil #I managed to get my salt water guiser up and running even if its a very lazy approach of basically just cooling it in a tundra biome #but itll work for the time being until I can get plastic from either drekos or by tapping into my oil biome #Im going for drekos rn since I have a lot of them around but if I can get some atmo suits set up quick enough I might just dive for oil #mainly because I want natural gas for a gas range tbh especially since I started farming waterweed as well #along with duskcaps so I already have access to the ingredients for several high quality gas range foods if I can get one running #now that might be a bit hasty but also I havent actually set base on the teleporter planetoid yet and both the transporters are right there #and I managed to find the sender on my main planetoid so I could pretty easily send over high quality food as a nice start up #this mostly tempts me because theres also a distinct lack of particularly easy to farm plants in the immediate vicinity of the teleporter #which doesnt mean there Wont be food but it does mean that quite a bit of digging will likely need to be done #with is also made tricky by the lack of early settlement oxygen sources available #and while I could theoretically send oxygen from the main colony Id rly rather not until I can get a spom or two set up #which leaves oxyferns and rust as the main oxygen options there until reliable water is found #now one thing I could do is fully transition my main base to getting all its oxygen from a spom and then send the rest of my algae over #my main thing is just Im not rly sure where I wanna put my first spom #I just simply dont have as many options as Id like due to being surrounded by mostly swampy and jungle biomes #not that I couldnt build there or dig them out its just Id rly rather have atmo suits first #which since I am very early in my dreko farm will likely take a lil bit #which also brings up the problem of getting my metal refinery up and running so I dont have to keep using the rock crusher #Ill probably just slap one in one of my tundra biomes as a short term solution but long term Ill probably have to take a shot at a proper #industrial sauna once I get plastic

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sangunary · 1 month ago

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very random but batfamily with a reader that just favors Tim. They have a whole space under his desk and everything. Eats his snacks, drinks his sodas, ect. Refuses to bond with anyone else, Tim and Reader might as well be conjoined twins. This can be normal batfamily or yandere batfamily it's completely up to you!<3

Batfam x Child Reader! (Platonic)

SYPNOSIS: Your family thought they adopted you, turns out you adopted only one of them.

IMP: PLATONIC, Reader is a child.

It was supposed to be a normal investigation, just two couples that got murdered in their own home.

When he enters another room he saw you, in your my little pony pajamas with a round red plushie with a poorly drawn face around your arms, completely oblivious to the brutal death of your parents.

He couldn't hell but let a slight smile, in such darkness there you were happy to see him. Happy to see a stranger in ridiculously dark clothes.

The room he found you in was no condition for such a ball of happiness, wallpaper teared, water dripping although it was summer, your bed was extremely mess ans solid hard.

He picked you up as you wrap your tiny arms around him clutching onto your plushie. No thoughts in your head as you look dead in his eyes, sucking onto your thumb.

"Ba-man"

You spoke, thumb still in your mouth as your lips parted to form a smile.

He was definitely going to adopt you now.

Your first day with the family was amazingly wonderful, everyone wanted to hold you or bite your cheeks for some reason.

You did choose your favourite from the start, Tim.

When anyone tried to pick you up while he holds you, you would simply turn away and wrap your arms around his neck so they won't seperate you.

Try feeding him anything you can hold onto, pulling his hair cause it was beautiful and you wanted them or the time you didn't stop crying for the whole day straight because Tim went to school.

As you grew older your favourite did not change to the disappointment of most.

Your room was never occupied by you and instead you slept next to Tim much to his dismay.

Unlike him you slept like you've never slept before plus you were deaf and can't feel any touch when you slept.

He would wake up with you on the floor still asleep and he would have to pick you up and make you face the wall, yet you still managed to end up at the bottom of the bed without him knowing.

You arm on his nose or your entire body ontop of him like a cat that want more warmth and will get it no matter what.

Under his desk was something else, a whole new place you had created.

Tim spent most of his time on the desk and you knew it, since you don't want him to be alone you build your own room under his desk.

Picture of my little pony, a chart that doesn't make sense but Tim would listen to you mumbled about it, food and drink, pillow and his jacket you used as pillow and books.

You would read aloud to him while he work on a case, you did have trouble reading and in the end Tim would just read the book with you and intentionally make mistakes so you won't be so embarassed.

Jason who didn't like this was trying so hard on the sideline to get you to drop Tim yet to his Disappointment you were stubborn.

"C'mon we can go watch my little pony till ten if you say im your favourite"

Jason have been trying for years to beat Tim and get the favourite. He tried to spend more times with you but it's impossible when you follow Tim like a duckling even waiting outside bathroom.

"I know you love Pony"

Jason was determine, it wasn't fair at all. You saw Tim call him a tomato and from that day you practically glue yourself onto him, he was way too happy for Jasons liking.

He already wanted to Bash his head for replacing him and now he wanted to throw his head throw a wall for getting all your affection.

"No, Timmy said no"

"You- When did you start listening to adults, you should be a rebel..."

"No"

Jason have never wanted to shake a child so hard just cause they weren't rebellious like he was.

Before Jason could continue his persuasion you saw Tim walk by and instantly went towards him, leaving the older male still kneeling on the ground with my little pony disc on his hand.

"...You like pony?"

Stephanie who just walk into the scene commented, with a wide smile.

"Shut it"

Jason left with the disc still on his hand, leaving Stephanie who was over the moon with her discovery to shout at him.

"Nothing wrong with liking ponies!"

Tim bought everything in two now, doesn't matter what he bought you would always swallow them without even knowing what it was.

It was honestly adorable, eating or drinking anything he ate because you wanted to grow up like him. For someone with short arms you could reach high.

If Tim was to eat something you would eat them without hesitation and proudly huff when you swallow.

You drank coffee once didn't sleep the entire night just went crazy around the house all night.

That's how they made you eat disgusting medicine, by making Tim eat something else that look alike to the medicine and faster then a cell could enter your brain you would chuck them down.

"C'mon brocoli is healthy, you'll grow up like me!"

Dick tried to convince you as he tried to push the food through your mother yet you stubbornly resisted.

And you resorted to pulling his hair, it doesn't hurt that much but it still does hurt and you were in no mood to let him go easily.

"Aouch! Geez, you pull real hard huh? Okay let go now no more brocoli"

Dick tried to gently pry your hands away from his hair but you wouldn't budge, pulling with all your might which hurt way more.

Before Dick could resort to yanking you and have you pull some hair out Tim walk in with no reaction to the current dilemma Dick was in.

Sat next to you and pick a brocoli and fed it to you, which you open your mouth without any second and chew, your hands remain on his hair.

"Tim, could you atleast get her to let go-"

"Let this be a punishment for you forcing her to eat when she obviously doesn't want to"

"She just ate, it's not the food it's the feeder!"

You didn't let go of his hair until Tim pick you up.

It was quite normal for people to mistake Tim as your father even tho you two look nothing alike.

Random mother's and elders or even workers praising him for being such a strong single father who loves his kid, Tim doesn't care about the comments. He absolutely found them hilarious.

"Bless your heart for stepping up for your child, the world need a father like you"

An old grandmother who was walking down the street would comment and Tim on the other hand just nod along with it, no denying or acception.

Even the journalists would intentionally made jokes about how Tim was more of a father than Bruce could be to you, and you thought Bruce was... Your distance uncle and not your father.

Every time anyone brought up the Wayne family and Tim or you is mentioned, everyone will agree that you adopted your own father while your adoptive father became your uncle.

You would hold his hands because they were comfortable unlike the others and if anyone tried to hold your hands, insult everywhere.

"Is your hand made out of cement...?"

"...Did your hand ran a marathon? Why so sweaty?"

"Did your hand ate a giant?"

"Your hand's have different gender"

"You hold onto me like im about to fly"

"No please"

"...Your fingers ate a snake"

"It should be illegal for you to hold hands"

Damian love's your fast mouth but hate it when it's towards him, he secretly tried to teach you how to fight Tim went wrong you ended up attacking him.

His plan backfired real bad.

Did they hate that you loves Tim so much while activity insulting them without even understanding your own word? Yes, they still love you.

It was as if you had adopted Tim solely and the rest were just extra benefit.

Tim loves the fact that you were so open about him being your favourite, he's a proud father of one which is you.

As much as the family love's you, you can only love one and that is your adopted father Tim.

Yes, you adopt your father.

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letteremi · 24 days ago

Text

The night you blocked Satoru Gojo was quiet.

Crickets sang their funeral song, the clouds smothering the waning crescent moon.

Finally, you had decided that this push-and-pull dynamic wasn't worth your time. It wasn't worth the tears shed into the pillow. Not worth the suitors you turned down, holding out for someone who couldn't - or just wouldn't - give you their heart.

You had searched for him in crowded rooms a thousand times. Wanted him to already be looking at you.

Seeing you.

But he never was. Never did.

So eventually, you stopped looking. Stopped hoping.

You shoved your phone under your tearstained pillow, like it might suffocate the ache. Threw the keychain he gave you in the bin - the one that you took everywhere, hanging carefree on your tote. Tore the photobooth strips down from your wall, ripping the memories apart with trembling hands. Tears poured, ugly, and your roommates held you as you shook, promising that maybe, someday, you'd find someone who truly saw you.

Gojo didn't even show up at your door.

Not the next day, or the week after.

Nothing unexpected.

Satoru Gojo's heart dropped to his feet - no, to hell - when he awoke that morning to his messages undelivered. The screen stared back at him cold and empty. User Not Found. He kept returning to your profile, like there had been a glitch. A mistake. That you'd just deactivated for a while. Because in no world, did he expect you to actually block him.

He'd always been the Strongest, and yet now, he was paralysed by the fear of losing you. Satoru didn't want to live in a world where his contact wasn't the first one you called when you received exciting news. Where your life, and his, were two parallel lines.

He did drive to your apartment - half-dressed, bed hair intact. He pounded on your door, but your roommates stared him down. Slammed the door in his face. He wrote letters - long, rambling apologies - because you'd even blocked his email. They never seemed to reach you though.

For once, his usual confidence had been shattered - replaced by a gnawing void he couldn't laugh off.

Like the flirty jokes he'd thrown around like armour. The arm he always slung around your shoulders, casual. The almost kiss that hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Your confession, fragile and raw, that he'd brushed aside.

Because who could love Satoru Gojo?

He had convinced himself that you loved the Strongest. You didn't know who he was, really. He didn't need you to know him. Didn't want you to know him. Because if you dug under that thick mask, you'd find someone unworthy of your devotion.

But now, in the cold aftermath of your absence, he realises.

The Strongest didn't need anyone.

But Satoru Gojo did.

And now, it was too late.

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you #jjk fic #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you angst #letteremi

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rex-rambles · 1 month ago

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➤ OBLIVIOUS | F1 SMAU + FIC

pairing: f1 grid x albon!reader (platonic!)

summary: the f1 drivers make the mistake of saying they're always aware of their surroundings, so you start an Instagram account to prove them wrong...by seeing how long it takes them to realize you're taking photos of them.

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, and others

visacashapprb Do your F1 drivers know when we're recording them? Or anyone, for that matter? Seems like the answer is yes!

↳ yn_albon really @/alexalbon?

↳ alex_albon I am very observant, thank you very much

↳ yn_albon we'll see about that

↳ fan44 there's literally paparazzi footage of the drivers every other day, of course they notice, they just pretend like they don't

Liked by yn_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers the guys said they know when they're being photographed, my camera roll says otherwise

↳ mclar_win Oscar's side eye is crazy

↳ brocedes this HAS to be like George or someone proving a point

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers George wishes he was me

↳ fan16 this is either a prank or a stalker...watch out guys

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers first up: dumb and dumber 🧡 i should start timing how long it takes for them to notice

↳ alex_albon if I end up in one of these, I'm telling everyone

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers no promises

↳ f1_fantatic alex, our chronically online king

↳ fan44 oscar and lando together = fork found in kitchen

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers in the lead as always, Max Verstappen comes in first by taking two days to notice!

↳ mclar_win max always has to be first, doesn't he?

↳ fan44 no wonder he looks so happy

↳ mad_maxxx why is the second picture lowkey...

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers i got too cocky 😔 tried to go for the super close up and got caught :( current record: three days

↳ fan16 so both Max and Charles now know your identity??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers they've already been sworn to secrecy

↳ carcarcar who could this be?? charles was happy to see them so it wasn't a stranger

↳ f1_fanatic i mean, alex is lurking in the likes 👀

Liked by alex_albon, yn_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers idk what made him more mad, the fact that he crashed or the fact he caught me

↳ alex_albon we had a promise

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers i literally said no promises

↳ alex_albon get ready to give up this account

↳ mclar_win it has to be George, right?

↳ carcarcar if it were George he'd be smiling liked by oblivious_f1_drivers

Liked by lando, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers a week and a half for Mr. Lando Norris! i would've taken more but this man was too excited to catch me

↳ lando See? I'm very observant

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers it took you a week and a half to catch me

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers even alex got it in less time

↳ alex_albon hey!

↳ georgerussell63 any chance I can beg for immunity?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers send me photos of oblivious drivers, and then maybe we'll talk

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers someone tipped him off...at least I snuck one in

↳ alex_albon 😇

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers we could've had something, alex

↳ alex_albon you're the one who broke their promise

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I NEVER PROMISED

↳ alex_albon wait why are you that close to lance in the third photo

↳ alex_albon answer your texts!!

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers what's this? oscar finally noticed? after TWO WEEKS? enjoy all the photos

↳ oscarpiastri listen we have a lot to do during race weeks

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers like pay attention to your photographers??

↳ oscarpiastri that's not even your job

↳ nicolepiastri so it's not just me being ignored?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/oscarpiastri text your mom or I'm stealing her

↳ oscarpiastri will do 🫡

↳ brocedes so we KNOW its not a photographer

Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers looks like we're not the ONLY oblivious ones #/hacked #/alexandgeorgehaveyourphone #/thebetteralbon

↳ yn_albon GEORGE???

↳ georgerussell63 why are you mad at me?? be mad at alex!

↳ alex_albon yeah george, how could you do this?

↳ f1_fanatic the albon siblings causing trouble on track as usual

↳ lando payback for having to look over my shoulder all week

You hold your hand out to Alex, who reluctantly drops your phone into your palm. Sometimes, you think, people forget you were actual siblings, who had just the same amount of fun annoying each other as any other pair of siblings in the world. The only difference, however, was that your brother happened to be a world-famous F1 driver, and you were a journalist trailing him around all day.

So honestly? You were perfectly within your rights to post all those silly photos of him and his friends. After all, it was something to occupy you in the rare moments you weren't hearing about being an Albon, or growing up around all the drivers, or waiting for Alex to come to an interview ten minutes late because you couldn't really say anything about it.

"I can't believe you," You direct both towards Alex and George, checking to make sure they didn't mess with anything else on your phone.

You had to give them some credit in their retaliation. Alex must have been sneaking photos of you all week, and then airdropped them to your phone to put onto your Instagram account. You'd never say that out loud, however.

Lord knows he didn't need the extra ego.

"Me?" Alex asks, looking rather insulted. "You're the one out here taking photos of us secretly."

"You're the one who said you weren't oblivious. I've seen you walk into a pole! Be serious." There's a joke to be made about him walking into poles yet never getting pole, but that's a bit too harsh, even for you.

"Be serious?" Alex parrots, rubbing a hand over his face. "Be serious! You are so lucky you're family, or I would've kicked you out of the paddock by now."

With the same grin you'd been pulling on him since you were a kid, you force him to reconcile with the fact that he actually did this to himself. "Unfortunately, you did also get me a job with F1, so you couldn't even kick me out if you tried."

"I'm sure they'd let me kick someone out if I needed to." He mutters, shaking his head, and before you can open your mouth, he raises a finger. "We're not making another bet about this."

George, finally content with how the conversation has ended, speaks up. "I can't believe it took Oscar so long to notice."

"I know, I thought it would be Charles." Alex answers honestly, and George pauses for a moment before turning to you.

"Should I be concerned I never caught you taking pictures of me?" His expression is stuck somewhere between the horror of potentially not noticing you and relief that you might have excluded him, considering the deal you struck up. To your surprise, George actually did supply you with oblivious photos of the drivers, a sort of double blackmail you can't wait to spring.

And, while he hasn't ended up on the account yet, there's still time.

He did help steal your phone, after all. He will pay. "I just didn't get to post yours. You're also pretty oblivious."

"No, I'm not!" He says, pointing down at your phone. "We checked the camera roll, there was nothing of me on there!"

"You think I'd leave those on my camera roll?" You ask with the same grin, now pointed at him. "Oh, I keep my secrets much more guarded, thank you." Alex offers a look, and you shove his shoulder. So maybe he had a point about you leaving your phone unattended around a man who knew the password and knew you ran a secret account, but still! "This secret doesn't count."

"I'm sure it doesn't," Alex says with a laugh before leaning in closer. "Any good ones of George?"

"Got one of him picking his nose?"

With a screech you can only describe as inhuman, George loses all the colour in his face. "You do not!" Then, as he reaches for your phone, both you and Alex take a step back. "Albons, don't do this to me!"

You and Alex are running before George even has a chance to catch up.

It's a rare time Alex ever actually beats George in a race.

Liked by lando, alex_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers my cover has been blown :( it was fun while it lasted

↳ alex_albon I'm really glad I got you hired as a journalist and not a photographer, these are terrible

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers ow??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I can't even be a nepo sister in peace

↳ isackhadjar oh come on

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers your expression captures how I feel, it deserves the first slide

↳ georgerussell63 hey, i thought we had a deal

↳ alex_albon you made a deal with george and not me??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/georgerussell63 the deal ended when YOU STOLE MY PHONE

a/n: my friends have started playing photo tag on campus, which is the only way i can describe where this came from - enjoy?

#➤ rex works #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 reactions #f1 fluff #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 texts #albon!reader #alex albon #george russell #lando norris #oscar piastri #max verstappen #carlos sainz jr

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vamplvs · 2 months ago

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SLEEPY HCS WITH THE THUNDERBOLTS

INCLUDES -> yelena belova, bob reynolds, john walker, bucky barnes WARNINGS -> literally all fluff! no need to fear angst here (there is some minor swearing tho); walker calls the reader beautiful, and bucky calls them 'doll' NOTES -> y'all i feel crazy about thunderbolts. i haven't had a writing kick like this in YEARS. also, no one hate me for john in this one, he's my problematic wife, ok? also i want wyatt russell bad. anyways, my requests/asks are open! and as always comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

YELENA BELOVA. — sleepy movie night? you got it. there's snacks, blankets, a random movie, and so many cuddles.

"are you sure you don't want to go to bed, love?" yelena mutters to you. the tv softly glows in front of you both, whatever period piece was playing long forgotten. you've been curled around her side since the movie began, but now your arm is draped over her and your head has fallen to her shoulder.

"no, i'm up," your voice is rough from sleep, but you pick your head up anyways and stretch. "see?" yelena rolls her eyes at your loopy, exhausted smile.

"whatever you say," she replies with a teasing smile.

"mhm..." you adjust your position under the blanket so you can be sitting upright next to her. but the blanket is just so soft and yelena is so warm, and before you know it, it's only a few minutes before you're curled against her once more.

yelena works hard to stifle her laugh when you fall asleep, but she lets you stay there. the movie plays on dully—the man in it has made some apparently irredeemable mistake that the woman he loves will no doubt forgive him for. yelena leans her head against yours, swearing that she'll get up once the movie is over so the two of you can sleep in a proper bed.

the next morning, when bucky is getting coffee he sees the two of you curled up on the couch and can't help but smile. it's nice seeing that yelena's found someone she trusts.

BOB REYNOLDS. — both of you are up late at night, entirely unable to sleep. you because you're working on tech for the thunderbolts new avengerz, and bob simply wandering the tower at night.

bob doesn't exactly sleep well these days, not after the mess with the void. it isn't unusual to find him roaming the tower at odd times, and this time it's your turn to run into him.

you're working in some old lab that you assume was tony stark's back in the day. your back aches, your fingers raw from tinkering with yelena's widow equipment, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. it's a miracle you haven't electrocuted yourself already.

"you're still up?" a voice softly speaks from the hallway.

your heart nearly stops right there and then. "holy shit!"

"sorry," bob steps into the dim lights of the lab, his hands up in a show of peace. "i didn't mean to scare you."

"no, no, it's fine! you're fine." you smile at him. "what are you still doing up, sweetheart?"

"i can't sleep," his response is sheepish.

you stand, stretching your arms above your head, and walk over to him. "let's see if we can do something about that." you pull him along by the hand, fingers entwined.

by the time you both get to bed, your eyes are heavy with sleep. you pull bob closer to you, letting his heartbeat lull you gently to sleep. the comfort of your body against his, a reliable weight to keep him still and grounded, has him dozing in no time.

JOHN WALKER. — he's the one up, unable to sleep. you're fast asleep and he just takes in everything about you. maybe it's the slight frown you have in your sleep, or the way your hair falls into your face just a little, but he's captivated.

john lays opposite of you on the bed, just tracing your features with his eyes. he takes everything in slowly: the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your cheek, the curl of your lips. you're so beautiful, and honestly, john has no idea how he got so lucky.

with his track record, it's a miracle you-

"why'd you stop?" you mumble, still half asleep, interrupting his train of thought entirely. his hands, which had been tracing patterns softly over your skin, have long been still.

"didn't wanna keep you up," he mumbles back, and you crack open an incredulous eye at him.

you grumble something under your breath that john can't quite catch before pulling yourself closer to him.

"it was nice," you say, sleep already calling your name. so john continues.

he traces abstract patterns from the nape of your neck to your shoulders to your back. he feels the way your muscles loosen beneath his touch and the way your breath evens out.

and you know what? fuck his track record. if he got lucky enough to be graced by you, he damn well won't mess it up.

BUCKY BARNES. — this time it's you who can't sleep, and it's a good thing bucky has a tendency to stay up obnoxiously late reading his novels despite his other old man tendencies.

a soft knock comes from the door, startling bucky from his book. it's too late for anyone to need him urgently for anything, so he's almost inclined to ignore it until your voice rings through the door.

"bucky? you still up?" you're tentative, almost wary, as you ask for him.

"yeah, doll, i'm up." he sits up, ready to open the door for you when you walk in wrapped in a blanket.

"can i stay with you?" you mutter, still standing a ways away from the bed.

without saying a word, he pats the spot next to him on his bed and leans back against the headboard, leaving enough space for you to curl up next to him.

"what're you reading?" your voice is muffled by his shirt and the blankets wrapped around you.

"the hobbit. mind if i keep reading?" you shake your head, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

"it was at this point that bilbo stopped. going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. the tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it..." bucky's voice rumbles soft in his chest, gentle despite the intensity of the moments he read out to you.

#yelena belova x reader #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #john walker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #yelena x reader #thunderbolts x reader #marvel x reader #yelena belova headcanons #bob reynolds headcanons #robert reynolds headcanons #john walker headcanons #bucky barnes headcanon #thunderbolts headcanons #marvel headcanons #thunderbolts spoilers #— valentine writes

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hauntedfictionland · 9 months ago

Text

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys did not want you, or the vow he was bound to for life. Yet when he makes a big mistake, and potentially loses you for good. He realises just how much you meant to him.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bastardphobia, mentions of death and grief, kissing, marrage of convenience and grumpy X sunshine trope, Jace is down bad, flirty!reader, guilt and anxiety and happy ending;)

🪐𝐧𝐨��𝐞𝐬: This is one of my first house of the dragon fics ever, so I truly hope it's not too bad. Jacaerys is one of my favourite characters in hotd after Alicent so I really wanted to get his characteristics and behaviour right. Also, I didn't like the way they showed his grief after Luke died, as if he just moved on after two or three days. But overall, I enjoyed writing this:)

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

You—his betrothed, acted like you owned the castle as soon as you strutted in. Speaking with no formality and a sharpness in your tongue that only infuriated him further. And especially when you did not seem to care for his heritage, who he was. The heir to the iron throne. Yet you acted as if he didn't exist to you. As if he meant nothing to you.

A marriage pact with the martells was only one of convenience. You, a princess of dorne, he, the firstborn son of queen Rhaenyra. Yet, they were stuck in dragonstone, and needed support to match the strength of the green armies. His mother needed this arrangement more than the martells did, and you made that very clear by acting carelessly and so freely, like you were in your own home. By taunting him, sitting at the great council table with your legs on them, a coin in your fingertips and a smirk in your lips. He hated it, he hated especially how good you looked.

He hated being betrothed to you already.

Rhaenyra had told him martells were rather, open and modern people. They took part in adultery even after being married, especially with the consent of their own partner. He did not know how anyone could be okay with such acts. He did not know what to expect when he met you, but it certainly wasn't how you commented on his face, calling him one of a beauty. It was inappropriate, calling a prince by such bold remarks on the first meeting, yet you did not seem to care.

But what edged him to his limit was the day you called him a bastard.

Jacaerys had been worried, he couldn't find you anywhere. Not that he cared, he was just stressed you would create another ruckus. He looked around everywhere, the garden, the great council, the dining hall, your room, even his room, but you were nowhere to be found. His chest tightened, a restlessness growing in his stomach. It seemed he always felt that way without being with you for too long. Not because he missed you—of course, but because he wanted to ensure everything was going smoothly.

He was going around circles, head spinning with a feeling that made him uncomfortable. Where were you? did you flee the castle? or were so bored of him you went to the city to a brothel in search of another man to keep you company. Anger and jealousy filled in his chest at the mere thought of that.

Jacaerys did not seem where he was going, many thoughts inside his head, before he harshly opened a door to the library. And to his surprise, there you were, a book in your hand. ‘Adventures of Aegon the conqueror’, he could read the name of the book by how you were holding it. He felt he could breathe again. By the loud sound of the door opening your head flitted towards him. Your usual smirk growing up your lips. Something that made his heart flutter in a way he didn't want it to. He clenched his jaw, holding his fists in a tight ball.

“Where have you been?” he asks, desperate tone in his voice.

“Ah, Prince Jacaerys.” you smile, closing the book and turning your attention towards him. He hated how your eye lashes fluttered, your hair falling down in just the perfect way. “I've been gaining some Targaryen knowledge, as you can see. Since we are to be married, I thought I should know my husband's family. Don't you think?”

Husband.

That word rose heat to his cheeks, quickly clearing his throat.

“I'm not your husband.” he spoke, in a tone harsher than he intended, “At least not yet anyway.”

You smile wider, making his heart race. He was always a bit stubborn, and uptight. Yet you were always so carefree and light, always so kind with his demise. He didn't know what to make of it all. A curious look grazed upon your face, eyebrows furrowing. You sat up, walking onwards another shelf of books, lips pursued. Before looking at him.

“I have always wondered, hmm,” you say, your finger coming up to your lips, “do tell me prince Jacaerys, is it true that you were born out of wedlock?”

His eyes widened, “What did you say to me?”

You either did not notice the offend and defensiveness in his tone, or simply pretend not to. Turning to look at him, “I mean, all Targaryen children have white hair. Do they not? Even if they did not, none of your formal parents have black, dark hair like yours.”

His breath hitches, all of the insecurities he had contained in a jar of fireflies fled out the second you brought out his hair. A wall rising inside him. You were acting as if you just did not ask the most dangerous question ever. As if it did not matter to you.

“How dare you insinuate such filthy claims?!” his voice rises, almost shouting. Your eyes flicker surprise for a moment, before turning back to the usual stoic look.

“Ah, you are offended.” you state, as if he shouldn't be, “I meant no harm, my prince. I have no problem with you being a bastard. In fact, it only makes you more interesting. The thing I don't like is your distaste for the truth. One should own up to who they are.”

Bastard.

You, called him a bastard. He isn't able to speak for a moment, too tongue—tied. You....think of him this way too? you? he can't hear as you speak further, a ringing in his head. It only intensifies. Only when you start talking about dorne is when he snaps back from his haze.

“And I have thousands of brothers and sisters back in dorne, no one cares ther—”

“I don't care, what you dornish do back there, but here you don't speak to me with filths of a claim.” he grits, his voice cold, “I am the queen's son. And if I hear you say one word about that again, I will see you hanged.” his words held so much malice in them, one would believe it to be true.

Of course, he could never actually do that, the blacks needed martells armies more than ever. His mother couldn't afford them raging war at her and joining the green's side. And, he could never harm you either. It was just a baseless threat, one he said out of anger and insecurity. He immediately regretted it when he saw the look on your face; hurt. But even worse, fear. Before he could even begin to take them back, it was too late. Your spot, where you stood, was already empty.

You had seen him less and less after that. Of course, you were your usual self. Taunting and teasing him, but something was off. Something distant. He hated it. He hated how much he missed it. Your remarks, your witty replies, your cockiness. He wanted it back. He wanted you back.

Next time he sees you, it's in a completely unexpected place. Dragon—pit. He was about to ride on Vermax to patrol the skies, when he stops. There you were, sat on the hard rock, legs swinging at the edge of it and his dragon's head in your hands. You..you were feeding him. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he shouts, eye wide.

You turn your head to him, a smirk on your lips grows. You enjoyed the fact he was on his nerves, furious.

“What does it look like? I'm feeding this cute little angel right here.” you coo, talking to his dragon in a baby voice. Vermax was known for her temper, yet with you it magically dis—appears? a little bit inside him was flustered, heart beating faster than ever that you and his dragon, a very important part of his life, bonded flawlessly. But he shrugs it off, he has to. Flushing over you isn't his duty.

Protecting you is.

As much as he would like to deny it, you're his now. Lawfully so. And he wouldn't let anything happen to you. Especially Vermax. He wouldn't know how to live with himself if his own dragon were to be the cause of, of.. your demise. His throat burns, even the mere thought of harm coming to you feels as if he's being drowned to death. After Luke, he cannot lose anyone. Jacaerys cannot lose you. Even if that was the first thing he tried to do after meeting you. You were the most part of his frustrations yet the only thought when he's in his bed at night.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks, his voice harsh, as if you were his child and he was scolding you for doing something childish.

“Have you had no fear? you could have died what were you even thinking?!” you falter for a moment, upon seeing the trembling of his hands and the tightness in his voice.

“Jacaerys—”

“No!” he interrupts you, “You, you could have been...do you even realise..”

Your eyes widened as he struggled to even breath, huffing for air anxiously. You quickly get up, walking towards him. He's so much inside his head that he doesn't notice your hands coming up his face, slinging through his dark curly hair. An act that slowed and claimed his beating heart down. Your soft palms make contact with both his cheeks, a peaceful shush in your voice and he finally breathes. Properly. He sighed, eyes closing as his hands came up to hold yours.

This, you, him? this felt oddly peaceful. This felt like home. Vermax watches the whole interaction with a quiet huff, turning away back to the pits. You nudge closer towards him, resting your forehead against his. Love. This felt like love. “Promise me” he starts out, his voice low and timid, “promise you will never do that again.” Instead of putting on a fight like you usually do, you nod, gently caressing his cheek. His head leaned further into your touch, putty in your hands.

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

Time seems to slow down, Jacaerys could count every freckle on your nose to cheeks, every small cut in between your knuckles or lips, every curve of smile you put on. And all the scents coming from your body that drove him crazy. You notice his lips still trembling, and above your judgement, you decide to kiss it better. He inhales a sharp breath as your lips touch his, but makes no movement to push you away. It's gentle, barely brushing against his. Jacaerys realised how they fit perfectly amidst his, and how much he was craving it all these months until he finally tasted them.

You slowly pull away, hesitantly. His eyes are still closed. Hands crawling up your waist. He speaks again, a whisper almost.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He's talking about the library, and you smiled softly, shaking your head.

“It's okay. You can't get rid of me that easily, Jace. Should have known that when you got betrothed to a dornish princess.”

You had already forgiven him. But he didn't want you to. He didn't want to be at your mercy this easily, not when he wasn't able to forgive himself. You, you had crept your way into his heart when he didn't want you to, and now he never wanted to let you go. It was all your fault.

“No I...” he shakes his head, “I never should have said that. Not only because it was so wrong but also because it was completely untrue.” Jacaerys swallows his breath, every bit of him wanted to turn away and never look back, but he couldn't do that. “I have been called names, about my heritage. Ever since I was a child. About my parenting and what not. And it's very...when anyone talks about it, it's like a bandage ripping off a new and fresh wound. No matter how many years pass by, it's still like that for me.”

You nod your head slowly, in understanding. This was raw. He had finally told you one of his darkest parts, his worst fears, and you hadn't run away.

“I understand. I should have never said that. I did not know it was like this for you.” He feels relief in your words.

But there was still something he needed to let out.

“But I...” he didn't know how hard this was for him until he started to actually say it, “I really could never mean it. What I said. Even if you have committed the worst treason or crime, even if you had taken my heart and carved it out, I still wouldn't be able to do one thing that might be even close to harming you. Believe me I have tried. And I have failed.”

He looks away from you, cheeks closing red. Jacaerys had just poured his heart out and gave it to you. But the chances of you, and feeling the same? were very dim. He sees stars when he sees you, what do you see? just him? or even worse? a filth in the name of a true born prince. A gasp leaves his lips as your fingers trace the outlines of his jaw, trailing down to his neck to his chest. You stopped at the red and black three dragons symbol made on the polish cloth he wore.

“Why do you think I agreed to this marriage? not because of this.” you point to the very symbol engraved on his chest, of the house targaryen, “If it was just for this, I certainly would have never.”

He turns his head back to you, confusion in his face. He also feels a bit of guilt in him. At first, he only agreed to this pact because his mother had no choice. Because of your house. Nothing else. And you're saying that his house didn't even matter to you when you agreed to this betrothal? then why? you did not even know what he looked like, and you simply agreed?

“Why then?”

That's the question that's now left in him. Why, if his house and title didn't matter?

“Well,” your lips curl up, a glint in your eyes, as a blush arose your cheeks, “From years I had heard stories of Targaryen princes. How arrogant and unkind they were, your cousins, Aegon and Aemond, well I certainly didn't hear anything good about them. And then you came. The velaryon prince, the son of the realm's delight, born with a kind heart and a fierceness to protect. I knew I had to marry someday, but I only agreed to marry you because I knew—you wouldn't mistreat me. Because I fell in love with the stories of the dark haired prince who had the most beautiful brown eyes ever, who protected his brother when he was a child himself, who stole my heart before he even claimed it.”

Jacaerys doesn't know what to say, his throat falls dry. It doesn't feel real, when he's wanted something so dearly and someone just gives it to him freely; it does not feel real. You do not feel real. But you are. He knows you are when your hands tug at his collar, his face close to you as you pull him towards you and your breath fanning on his cheeks. He knows this is real, and it's better than any dream he's ever had.

“I do not want our marriage to be an unhappy one.”

You say, a plea in your voice.

He smiles, wide. And he doesn't even have to make an effort this time, “For me, the words unhappy and you? well they don't go in the same sentence.”

That seals it for you, he can see that. As you kiss his words, an unspoken understanding and passion in it. Jacaerys realises he could get used to this. Kisses, hugs, reading each other books, waking by the warmth of your body besides his; in fact, there's no one else he'd rather do it by. And nothing he would want more.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜��𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

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no-144444 · 8 days ago

Text

so good- o.piastri

꩜ summary: your best friend wins his home GP, but your boyfriend gets fucked up by a time penalty.

꩜ pairing: oscar piastri x fem! ln4 best friend! reader

꩜warnings: smut 18+, piv unprotected sex (please don't be stupid, wrap it up girl), oral (m receiving), jealous oscar, etc. :)

꩜ a/n: this is... hardcore smut. i'm just going to leave it here. we don't have to talk about it :)

10 second penalty fucked him, and he’d wanted to win so badly. In Lando’s house, take it all away from him, and fuck him up mentally. Show him that he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t fast enough, that he wasn’t winning-material, as Andrea so kindly had called them both. But he finished behind him in P2, and he could already see the comments online. He could hear the roaring fans as he stood on the podium, his brain full of every mistake he’d made, of everything he could’ve changed, of every moment of that godforsaken race. Then everything else that was bothering him came rushing back, having been pushed to the back of his mind during the race. He hadn’t realised it’d be such a big deal. You were British, he knew that from the beginning. You transferred to boarding school so you’d have a better shot at getting the college course you wanted. Fortunately, you’d met Oscar there and started dating. That was nearly a decade ago. You put up with all the distance, all the races, all the moments where he told himself he couldn’t do it. You pulled him back up with just a kiss and a simple ‘you’ve got it’. You still did it now.

You had a bachelors degree and you were moving on to your masters as you worked. He was an F1 driver.

Lando was his biggest rival at the moment, and you’d known him basically since conception. He liked Lando, genuinely, but Oscar was a silent killer, and that involved a set of skills, one being observation. He saw the way Lando looked at you. He saw the touches and the giggles, and the moments that he tried to make into big deals. He saw how you always politely brushed him off, just blaming it on the drink or him being touchy. He saw the way his eyes widened when you’d told him about Oscar, even all those years ago. Lando was exactly two years older than you, and you’d brought Oscar to your joint birthday party. You were 16, Lando was finally 18, and Oscar saw the way his eyes stopped on Oscar, sized him up, and realised he’d lost. He still did it sometimes, just these tiny double takes of what you actually wanted. Someone with broad shoulders and emotional intelligence. Someone with a bright smile that only you really got to see. Oscar found it funny, watching Lando get annoyed over the way you went to Oscar after a race. It always started the same, a hug in the garage with a kiss on the cheek, then as he dragged you back to the motorhome after media, you’d tuck yourself into his side, then, once you were finally ‘safe’ and inside the confines of the McLaren Motorhome, you’d kiss him silly in his driver’s room, plus sometimes, a little more.

He didn’t take Lando’s jealousy personally, and it was flattering if anything. He knew how incredible and stunning you were, and guys looked at you all the time. They, including Lando, could watch you all they wanted, because you were always going to be holding his hand. He liked Lando, but tried to keep him at a distance. You? Not so much. Constantly, he found you around his side of the garage, always chatting his ear off about something stupid he did. It didn’t bother him. Well, he pretended it didn’t bother him, especially when it seemed all you could talk about these days was Lando. You were worried about him, or he was being more quiet than usual, or there was something wrong. It drove him demented. He just wanted his girlfriend to be his girlfriend for more than a few minutes.

It all built up in his head as he looked around the scene in front of him. He was living his dream, he was loved, he was fine. That’s what he told himself. Just get through the podium and get out of here. The emotional regulation skills he’d built up over the years, weren’t working. He tried the tapping. He tried the breathing. Fuck, he even tried the 5,4,3,2,1 method. Still, his breathing was quick, his muscles felt too tight, and he could feel every nerve in his body, on fire.

It went quiet when he noticed you in the crowd. He’d almost forgotten you came. You’d been so quiet, so unassuming, so you, during the whole race weekend, just supporting him with your small smiles and glances, fleeting touches and words of wisdom at the end of the day, that he’d barely noticed you.

You stood behind the McLaren crew, who were all already rowdy. You stood there beside Tom, a soft smile on your face as you clapped for Lando, but, like always, you never clapped as loud for him. Lando noticed. He pretended he didn’t care and turned his head to the crowd, but that only left a satisfied smirk on Oscar’s lips.

You were his.

He drenched everyone on the podium, even Lando. He wasn’t going to ruin Lando's excitement of winning his home race over his own irritation. It’s exactly the juvenile shit that Lando does, and he wasn’t Lando. He didn’t whine after races, he didn’t talk himself up in the press, he didn’t care.

In all honesty, all he could think about was you. His body was buzzing with anticipation as he walked down the steps of the podium and into the paddock. He just needed you, plain and simple. You came up beside him with a furrowed brow, he knew you well enough to know what that meant, and he nodded his head and mouthed “it’s alright”, which meant that you were at his side, hugging him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you clung to his side and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll give you a blowjob in your room if you want.” you whispered and he chuckled, though a lot of blood went down south and he could feel his adrenaline building up again. This side of you always thrilled him, no one else saw you like this, all horny and gorgeous, and he loved it.

He chuckled and squeezed your hip, sending a bolt of electricity through you. “Sounds good.” he nodded and pressed a kiss to that spot under your ear, the one that drove you crazy. You smirked. Fuck, he wasn’t making it to media on time.

You both rushed into his driver’s room, and you were fully aware of the fact that he had media, even if he didn’t want to do it. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed bruising kiss after bruising kiss to various places on your neck. “So good out there Osc,” you whined, breathless. “So good.” He loved when you got like this, all clingy and smiley, praising him even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. He knew if he reached inside your panties, you’d be soaked, and it just made his cock harder against his race suit.

“C’mon pretty girl,” he breathed out, one of his hands smoothing over the side of your face, your blown-out pupils and shallow breathing a visible symptom of your arousal. Fuck, it drove him crazy. You make her like this and she loves it. She loves you. She fucks you. He reminded himself, like a chant in the back of his head. “I was promised a blowjob.” he smirked, that cocky, nearly patronising smirk that made heat pool between your thighs, and made you sink down on your knees, right there, right against the door. He smiled down at you as you made quick work of his soaking suit, pulling it down and off him, then pushing his boxers down his legs. He was already hard, already fucked for you, precum dripping down his cock as you both stared at it. You placed a hand on his cock, and slowly started moving up and down, spreading his precum all over as you kissed a pattern into his chiseled stomach. He tensed under you, grabbing his hands behind his back to stop himself from grabbing your head and face-fucking you until he came down your throat.

You pressed your tongue flat against his dick and he let out one of those mangled moans that drove you crazy. You smiled up at him, and he was sure he had that image tattooed on his brain for the rest of his life. “So fucking gorgeous,” he spat out, his chest heaving as you looked up at him. You both heard the door slam next door, and Oscar just smiled back at you. Slowly, you licked a stripe from the top of his shaft to the bottom and back up, a hand coming up to massage his balls as you finally took him in your mouth, sucking him into your mouth as you moved up and down, jerking off anything you couldn’t fit. It drove you mad, how big he was, and how he thought it was just normal. He was hung, so much so that the first time you two had sex, he’d had to eat you out first to get your pussy pliant enough to take him, and even then, it still hurt like a bitch. Obviously, time had passed and you were finally used to the stretch, but even after just a week apart it would still stretch you out, toeing the line between pleasure and pain. He pretended it wasn’t an ego boost, and you pretended it didn’t turn you on. “Such a good girl,” he cooed as you started picking up the pace around him. You moved over and found his boot-clothed foot, and started grinding through your panties, your skirt already bunched up at your hips.

A knock on the door stilled your movements, and he left out a disappointed whine, grabbed the back of your head, and pushed you back up and down, thrusting into your mouth as you both picked up the pace.

“Hey man,” Lando’s voice rang out through the door. “I’m sorry it didn’t go your way today, but thanks for being such a good guy about it and congratulating me. Today means a lot to me. Thanks for noticing,” he explained, just outside the door, completely unaware of how fucking hard it was for Oscar to keep quiet when you were sucking him fucking dry. Holy shit, maybe he should lose more often if it means he got head like this. “Will you tell Y/n my mom is looking for her please? She wants to get a big family photo today, since everyone is here.” Oscar hit his head back against the door as he felt the coil in his stomach building.

“Yeah,” he choked out, not having enough in him to give Lando a proper answer. Lando lingered on the other side of the door, thinking that Oscar was mad at him, but he just brushed it off. If he had a problem, he could say it like an adult, and he didn’t, so it was fine. You did that weird tongue thing that he adored, and his thighs shook as he came in your mouth. “Fuck!” he groaned. You didn’t stop sucking as he whined your name as quietly as he could manage, genuinely sucking him dry. Slowly, you pulled off his cock, swallowing everything he’d given you. Jesus, you looked gorgeous like this, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes blown out, riding his fucking race boot as you made him cum so hard he was sure he saw heaven for a moment. He smiled down at you, wiping the tears as you leaned into his affection. “Fuck, you’re so good at that,” he chuckled, hooking his hands around your waist, and lifting you up to your full height. He sat you on his physio table, letting you watch him as he got dressed into his new suit. Your eyes shamelessly ran over every piece of him, still hungry, still horny. He smirked and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Later, I promise.”

He didn’t miss the way you pressed your legs together as he left the room.

The drive back to your house was 2 hours on a good day, and the motorway was full of F1 fans already, so neither of you had been particularly fond of the idea of driving all that way back. You’d booked in the same hotel as Hattie and grabbed dinner with her before heading upstairs to finally put an end to a terrible day. Lando had asked you to come celebrate, even invited Oscar, but you'd refused. You said Oscar needed you, and even though Lando pushed, you'd held strong in your choice. It made Oscar bloom with pride. You chose him.

You showered as he watched replays, then he showered as you did your skincare routine. Tension buzzed in the air between you, it always did after a race like today. God, you thought back to Hungary last year. He’d been so fucking smug, basically feral, and absolutley obsessed with you. The bruises had lasted more than two weeks. He stepped out of the shower, hair dripping and pushed back, jawline sharp, and everything tensed. You didn’t speak.

“Watched the replay,” he grumbled, his accent coming out more as his emotion got the better of him. Annoyance laced his tone, but there was also a reserved kind of understanding, like he saw the data, understood the penalty, but was still frustrated. Maybe it was the fact that Lando had won a race. Maybe it was the fact that Lando had now won his home race, and Oscar’s. Maybe it was the fact that finally, Oscar had made a mistake. You nodded, waiting for more to come, but it never did. You could see the way he beat himself down, those voices in his head shouting that he needed to be better, make no mistakes, fight more.

You frowned and took his hand, leading him to the couch in your apartment-like hotel room. You sat him down and sat down right on top of him straddling him. He smirked, running a hand down your neck as he appreciated the sight in front of him. “Y’gonna let me take care of you?” you whispered, slowly grinding down on his lap, the towel he’d haphazardly tied around himself undoing beneath you. Thank god you hadn’t bothered with panties under your pyjama slip. He nodded up at you, already in a lusty haze. “Good boy,” you whispered in his ear before licking a stripe down his neck as he let out a whine, his hands grabbing your hips.

You loved it when he was like this. Pliant and desperate underneath you. Slowly you sat up, taking his half-hard cock and jerking it a few times, his sharp inhales adorable as you played with him. His precum spread over his cock as your wetness literally dripped, soaking the both of you. His breath was shallow as you pushed him inside you, those pathetic breathy whines pushing out of his throat as he let you take over his body.

“You’re alright,” you reassured him and he nodded as you slowly started moving. He quickly pulled your slip over your body to be met with the sight of your perfect tits bouncing in his face. Fuck, if he died right now, he’d die a happy man. “Touch me,” you bit your lip, his cock already hitting that spongy spot inside you, driving you crazy. He whimpered when you moved slightly to the side, changing the angle, and he pressed his mouth over your nipple. He sucked it as he made those desperate whimpers that shot straight to your core. “So good,” you whined, his hands tugging at the roots of his hair. “So handsome for me, o-on the podium,” you smiled as he thrusted back up into you and he moaned against your tits. “God, you’re so fucking good for me, aren’t you?” you cooed, and he couldn’t help but nod.

“Yeah,” he let out a broken groan. “Wanna be good, so good,” he nodded, pressing kisses and love bites all over your tits. God, he was gone, just focused on how good you felt around him, and that mind-fucking sweet tone of voice. “C-can’t believe you’re mine.” He let out a particularly pathetic moan as you sped up, chasing your own orgasm as the muscles in your thighs screamed to be given a rest, but you wouldn’t, not when you were both this close.

“I’m all yours,” you reminded him and he genuinely moaned into your neck, one of his hands grabbing at the fat of your ass and squeezing, making you squirm on his cock. Fuck, this was euphoria. “Always yours Osc,” you whined as he started moving your hips even quicker on top of him. His other hand went to your ribs, just under your left tit, that tiny 81 tattoo you’d gotten as a joke, but really, it drove the both of you fucking insane. He loved that his number was permanently inked into your skin, and you loved it too. He brushed over it with his thumb as he bit his lip to try and stop the incessant, and frankly embarrassing moans falling from his mouth. He couldn’t stop it though, not when you were riding him like this. Fuck Lando, and fuck his stupid face and Landostand. You wore his number every fucking day. Those replays, the things people had said, that move, it was all gone from his mind. Replaced entirely by you. Just you, you, you, running through his mind every damn second. It was a mind-fuck, how desperate he could get for you. He pressed his head into your shoulder as he felt his high approaching. It was like time stopped and the only thing that even remotely mattered was you, you, you. He bit into your shoulder, a high-pitched whine leaving his lips as he sucked over the spot, so, so close to cumming. But of course, you slowed down. You kept bouncing on top of him, but it wasn’t fast enough. He needed more, and you wouldn’t give it to him. “Too pretty like this,” you groaned, not wanting this moment to end, so you kept both of your orgasms at bay. “Wanna stay like this.” You pull in his hair again and he lets out one of those mangled moans again, his eyes filling with moisture. You smirk.

“Please, just use me however you want,” he begged, those tears falling from his pretty brown eyes as you literally licked them off his face, already riding him quicker. “Please go quicker,” He sounded so desperate, so fucked, so beautiful, you couldn’t stop. His mouth opened and his eyes closed, his whole body practically going slack as you fucked him harder, his pussy gushing as you soaked his thighs with your arousal. You rode him quicker and harder, despite every muscle in your legs screaming to be let rest. His orgasm still seemed to come as a surprise, and he let out the loudest, most embarrassing moan he’d ever made. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated after it, letting you keep using him, even as he fought overstimulation. It triggered your orgasm, soaking his thighs as his cum dripped out of you. Still, you kept riding. You didn’t want the moment to end. His hands tried to grab your waist, tried to slow down your movements as he was fucked into overstimulation, his soft cock getting hard inside you again. “Fuck baby,” he pushed down on your stomach, then wrapped an arm around your waist and flipped the order. Now he was on top of you. He flipped you over, your ass wiggling against him as he lined himself up with your cunt. “Such a good girl for me, right?” he whispered in your ear, gaining a groan the second he bottomed out in you. You moaned like a whore as he fucked into you as quick as he could. The pain of the overstimulation melted away as he kept going, kept fucking you and toying with your pretty clit, hearing all those noises you made. You drove him insane.

“Fuck! Osc! Harder!” you begged, sobs ripping from your throat in time with his brutal thrusts. He was unrelenting, especially as he played with your clit. You grabbed at the couch cushions, the heat in your stomach building for the second time. “I love you,” you babbled as you came all over him. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” It fell from your lips like a mantra, and it just pushed him towards his own orgasm quicker. This was a reminder. You chose him. Nothing Lando or the media, or McLaren said or did, would change that. You were his, entirely.

After a few minutes of being collapsed on the couch, you cuddled on top of him, resting your head on his neck as he smiled. “You alright?” you asked softly, a satisfied smile on your lips despite reeking of sex. He nodded and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m better than alright,” he chuckled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Lando may have won the Grand Prix. McLaren may have been annoyed at him. Maybe the media would paint him as a vengeful psycho on the next race weekend. He didn’t care. He had you. He had this.

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