#I live solely in my room so nothing in the living room or on the tables are mine
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hannahbarberra162 · 2 days ago
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Can we get a izou story snippet? Pleaseeee if not don't worry, ily
Of course Nonnie! I'm writing the second chapter now but I'm not sure when it will be done. I'm hoping this week but I can't promise.
Also, if you left me an ask, please know I'm getting to them. Unfortunately brevity is not one of my strengths and all these delicious ideas turn into like 5k+ word one shots (looking at you Yan Sabo Nonnie - I'm cooking up something good for you). I'm not complaining, I love reading everyone's ideas and suggestions. It just all takes time to write :)
“Commander Izou, my h-home is to the right,” you stated with uncertainty in your tone as Izou carried you in his arms to your residence. He told you that you would pack up whatever you most needed and that he would take you with him to his ship. You’d protested initially but he had left no room for argument. He could scent your fear and felt your trembling fingers wrapping themselves around his neck as he carried you through the snowy town. He’d have more time to explain later that you’d be safe, that nothing bad was going to happen to you ever again. But for now he wanted to put as much space as he could between you and the horrible people to dare call themselves your family.
You were wearing flimsy cloth shoes that were unsuitable for the winter climate on the island. By the rips on the sides and wear on the soles, you’d been wearing them a long time. Yet another reason Izou wasn’t upset by the destruction his brothers were wreaking on your employer. 
“B-but Commander, you don’t need to hold me, I can -” you’d been trying to get him to put you on the ground since he’d first swept you off your feet, before you’d even made contact with the snowy sidewalk.
“Carrying you pleases me,” Izou said simply. Given your reserved nature as well as the strict social hierarchy you were raised with, he knew you’d defer to him.  It was a dance he hadn’t done in a long time, playing along with the social cues and mores of Wanese culture but in this case it worked to his advantage. If he tried to explain that you were underdressed for the weather or that he felt the need to feel your meager weight in his arms, you’d protest further to prevent inconveniencing him. Truthfully, it did please him to carry you, to have your scent so close to his own, to feel the reassurance of you in his arms. He’d carry you forever if you let him. 
“Ah, this is it,” you indicated, pointing to a large brick house with smoke coming out the chimney. At least they’d given you a proper place to live, he thought to himself. As Izou stepped on the cleared path to the house, you shook your head. 
“N-no, sorry. The house behind this one,” you said quietly, pointing to a shack set back towards the snowy woods.
Of course.
Izou noted the rickety shack and the rags covering the windows - either to keep in heat or to keep out prying eyes. Swiftly walking towards the hut, he opened the door and set you down inside.
“Gather your things,” Izou said softly, putting his hand on the small of your back to encourage you. The inside of the single room hut was as dismal as Izou imagined it would be. There were gaps in the thin wood walls, letting in the harsh winter air. Your tiny bed was crammed into the corner, leaving enough room for a table
“I apologize for the state of my house, Commander. If I had known someone like you would be joining -” you were already bowing to him again, your hands stiff at your side. Izou bent down to put his hands on your shoulders and righted you to standing.
“Do not apologize. Collect your things,” Izou ordered in a gentle tone. You frowned but nodded and walked over to the small bookshelf on the wall. You grabbed an old, battered tome, wrapping it like you were swaddling a baby in one of the few blankets on your bed. Holding it to your chest, you put it in a basket and saw Izou watching you.
“Ah, the cookbook my father gave me before I left Wano,” you said in answer to Izou’s unasked question. You’d mentioned leaving Wano a few times but Izou hadn’t heard of many people leaving the country in recent years. He’d have to get the full story out of you on the Moby. Moving towards you, he noted a picture of himself tacked onto the wall. It was from his most recent Wanted Poster (an attractive photo, if he did say so himself). You followed Izou’s eyes towards the picture and hung your head.
“This is embarrassing. Please do not take offense, Commander,” you begged while looking down at your feet. Izou laughed softly into the sleeve of his winter yukata. 
“What man would take offense at a beautiful woman having his picture hung on the wall? Please, continue to gather your things. I would like to take you away from here. This building offends me,” Izou said. You were spurred into action from his words. You gathered a few clothing items and a lacquer hair comb, likely also from Wano based on the style.  “I am finished, Commander. I await your next instruction,” you replied seriously, like you were one of the men under his command. He’d have to get you to relax eventually, to accept help and seek it out from him. The Alpha in him wanted to grab you and take you back to his rooms, to show you he could protect you. But Izou knew you were traumatized and nervous, unsure what to do with yourself while you navigated the relationship between them.
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crossbackpoke-check · 3 months ago
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yOu'Re gOiNg fOr a LiTeR? | "Habs react to Quebec Maple facts", 10.22.24
#guys this is not becoming a regular thing this is just the mental illinois breaking through but ALSO I SAW THIS AND SCREAMEDDDDD#they did this For Me. those are all my guys. like yes yes we know about xhekovský but that’s my adopted austrian son david reinbacher!!!#that’s my baby goalie carey price time travel cowboy son cayden primeau!!!! and i just LOVE that they were like#‘yeah so one of them is gonna be a bitch in both pairs. & yeah we’re gonna make them lose.’ & i am HERE for it. you know the media day vid#where they asked all of them who was brat on the team and like 75% said slaf which we all KNEW? yes. correct. even more evidence godddd#also empathize so much with him because i hate feeling stupid & he is notably like. a very smart guy w/good awareness of broader society#and sorry to get like this on a silly little post i’m about to fanfiction-ify before i have xhekovský hours but so much of this goes back#to the xenophobia in the nhl and how we treat players (not only that. people in north am/west tbh) whose first language is not english#and degrade/discredit them and their intelligence by virtue of their multilingualism and how we even think about multilingualism as a whole#e.g. the sense that certain languages are perceived as more ‘valuable’ capital/the support that SHOULD be there for language learning simpl#is not from what i can tell in the nhl so even if you wanted to foster an environment of intercultural competency they’re doing nothing to#support it. the stories!! of so many guys! reliant solely upon their teammates for basic necessities! WHERE is your language acquisition#programming. sorry the linguistics language and culture attempted to jump out there & i am not conveying what i want to say at ALL. anyway#juraj's slow descent into madness as u can SEE him visibly getting more & more over it & done is my roman empire. like he's having fun#at first he's laughing 'what is this whiskey?' & i AM thinking that toothy little grin at arber with the jerkoff hand motion about the mapl#syrup only taking a few minutes to come (out) was a dig. lord knows arber deserved it with his shorts pulled all the way up like GOD the me#you put here to wear slutty little 3" shorts live in cold CANADA and have to cover up their thigh tattoos. what a travesty. and the amount#of THIGH in this video i- biting. arber's hairy legs slaf's manspreading more as he gets frustrated & arber teases him i. and DAVID????#on a completely different note cayden with his face covered is giving me INTENSE brainworms i have the most unhinged storylines for him#AND THE BRYNDZOVE HALUSKYYYY everything past 2:00 is gold. david's tired sighs. slaf hating it here. arber having the time of his life#'taste' 'that's not an advantage' DAVID kill him. 'maple syrup specialist... normal guy 🤷' slaf you are the WORST loser and ily for it#arber defending his wife w/his life... juraj's the smartest guy in the room & arber's on his leash about it. it goes both ways (to be cont)#juraj slafkovský#arber xhekaj#david reinbacher#cayden primeau#montreal canadiens#i'm xhekovský posting leave me alone i'm also *****
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seilon · 2 years ago
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by no means do i regret cutting off my dad but. sometimes i remember experiences with him that are so novel i wouldnt ever replace them. specifically i am thinking about how he’d play this country song sometimes that i have no idea how he found about gay interracial cowboys in love. i never asked him about it. i think about it often
#kibumblabs#chorus was like ‘interracial cowboyyy homo kinda love’ or something like that#my dad’s music taste was like. the most unpredictable thing on earth. in the most autistic way possible. it’s so hard to explain#and I still have no idea how he came across 90% of the music he’d listen to#I know when most people think of listening to music Autistically they think of an extremely predictable music taste where you listen to one#thing/band/genre/etc on repeat for however long and nothing else#but. the thing is. my dad didn’t NOT do that. his music taste was weird as hell and all over the place but it came in waves where he’d#listen to solely the same few songs or same artist or whatever for a few weeks and then eventually his focus would switch to something else#and he’d only listen to THAT for a few weeks and so on and so on. sometimes old stuff would come up again in a wave as well and#yeah you get it. occasionally he’d REALLY like a song and then he’d legit play it over and over again#specifically thinking of one time he got like. obsessed with moon river (the breakfast at tiffanys version I think?) and would play it#quite literally on a continuous loop on the house living room/kitchen speaker system and i think I was doing homework at the kitchen table#(wasn’t allowed to do it in my room cause my parents didn’t trust me) ​and was like. uh. dad. this is getting kind of annoying#and now that I think about it. I don’t think he stopped. at least not because of Me. i don’t remember when he stopped or if I just went#upstairs eventually if I finished my work. but yeah good god is my father autistic. he may not want to admit it but im pretty sure he knows#he is at least to SOME degree (my mother is a psychologist. i don’t think he could avoid it being pointed out at least a few times)#(he’s just prideful and stubborn and likes thinking that’s just the way he is and it’s not Pathological or blah blah blah idk. he knows.)#anywho. on the topic of things my dad would do that in hindsight ive realized are Very Autistic of him- he’d get annoyed sometimes if I sang#along to songs he’d play in the car because he wanted to ‘actually hear the song’ and yes first of all: dickish thing to say to a kid. but#the fact he didn’t realize that + now putting together that it probably had to do with having two sounds overtop one another in a#possibly irritating way… yeah. sounds like an autism thing. which I guess is kinda redeeming cause it means he wasn’t just being a TOTAL#asshole. still an asshole nonetheless but at least I sort of get it and get the feeling#cant blame him for having Autism Moments. can blame him for avoiding diagnosis or at least acknowledgement of it and never even remotely#attempting to keep his more maladaptive behaviors in check
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area51-escapee · 11 months ago
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Screaming crying ect ect because I do wish I lived in a clean house I wish there wasn’t clutter everywhere I wish I had space to do things just like I’m always getting yelled at about but the problem is I can’t even do anything about it because none of it is my stuff
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lokissweater · 5 months ago
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“i would never lie to you.”
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{toge inumaki x f!reader}
summary: inumaki’s always coming home to you from missions coughing up mass amounts of blood and completely overdoing it while fighting curses with his cursed speech technique. and no matter how many times you tell him to be careful, he just doesn’t, arguing with him, giving him the cold shoulder, and completely unaware of the reason behind why he fights so hard when he’s out there— that reason being of course… because of you.
warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, toge and reader have a lil argument but it’s more the aftermath, slight sexual mention but it’s literally once and nothing LOL, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not doing enough SNIFFF, angst with comfort, toge is DEVOTED to you, aged up characters, pet names, afab!reader.
word count: 2.3k
authors note: short n sweet one!! wanted to give you guys a break from my MLA format essays i always make y’all read LMFAOOO!! this one is SHO SOFT AHHHH :] i hope this keeps you guys fed in the meantime while i write the next one! i love you and i love you all ALWAYS MWAAHH <33
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toge inumaki hates it when you don’t talk to him.
as if he doesn’t do that enough already, toge absolutely despises when you both get into arguments or heated discussions and you turn a cold shoulder to him— needing space to unwind and prevent yourself from lashing out even more, to let the situation simmer down.
he understands it. believe him he does— you’re upset and angry and you need time to cool off… but toge is stubborn and needy and just doesn’t care, needing you and only you, him going absolutely crazy at the silence in your shared apartment that he was starting to hear random ringing in his ear drums.
so as he sat on the couch, eyes unblinking as they stared off into the darkness of the living room as the sun had already began to set, you upstairs locked away— he wanted nothing more than to open his mouth and let his cursed speech force you to come downstairs and talk to him.
but he didn’t, though the thought was definitely tempting, as toge vowed the day that he laid eyes on you to never ever use his cursed technique on you, even if it was harmless, an oath he wanted to carry with him until his very death bed and until he was six feet under.
his ears perked up then at the quiet sounds of the upstairs room door knob twisting and clicking open, soft padded footsteps making their way down the hall and closer to where he was, feet sticking against the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.
at the sight of you with your hair a little disheveled, your eyes so red and puffy, and an arm wrapped around yourself as you rummaged through the fridge looking for fuck knows what and not sparing a single glance at him— toge felt like a fifty pound gutting weight was resting on his chest and crushing his heart.
you had both argued about something you always seemed to circle back to almost every week. but this time, you were sick and tired and fed up, seeing as toge was never going to try and understand the situation at hand through your worried eyes.
every time toge was out for a mission, you would spend your days anxiously throwing yourself over the couch or trying to keep yourself busy with random activities like baking or scrapbooking (which you deemed later meaningless), all within the sole purpose of trying to get your mind off of your boyfriend and the recklessness he always seemed to pull while on missions, regardless of how much you begged and pleaded with him to be more careful and aware of his health.
toge inumaki had such a powerful and lethal cursed technique that frightened and astonished you all at the same time, a conflicting feeling to have when he had to leave you in the middle of the night or during the early hours of the morning to run around and fight curses… but always coming home to you warm and loving and safe.
but not right now.
not when toge had literally come home this morning with not even two steps in the door and he was already on his knees, coughing up strings and loads of crimson blood, it pooling on the floor as he had used his cursed speech to the highest degree today and had you a crying mess thinking he was dying.
and he always did that. always. today was just the worst of them all, him without a fault coming home with excruciating pain in his bruised and clawed up throat, the cough syrup medicine he usually downed like water having absolutely no effect anymore as you scrambled around every time trying to find a solution, toge brushing off your distressed and frightened rambling as if his health wasn’t a big deal, and as if how much it affected you wasn’t a big deal either.
upon you closing the fridge, toge slowly stood from the couch and carefully walked over to you, his throat still in pieces but his mind lurching and guilty over how upset you were at him.
he slowly raised a gentle hand and placed it on your shoulder, you shaking your head somberly in response— your back to him.
“i don’t wanna talk right now toge i’m sorry…” you mumbled, rubbing over your tired sore eyes.
he squeezed your shoulder, insisting.
but you only shook your head again.
toge huffed and placed both hands on your shoulders this time, physically turning you around to face him— his eyes soft and his eyebrows pinched together in pure concern for you.
you peeked up reluctantly, but the sight of his face and the events from earlier flashing through your mind only made your bottom lip wobble and the bottom of your palms shoot up to dig into your eyes, more stinging tears flooding in and slipping through the corners of your closed lids.
his heart fucking broke.
“why don’t you care toge?” you hiccuped. “i worry myself sick every time you leave for a mission and— and that’s fine because it’s what you do but you never take care of yourself!”
he gently pried your shaking hands away from your eyes and wiped your tears softly with his thumbs, caressing your cheeks after— wishing so badly, more than anything in this fucking world, to just be able to speak to you like a normal human being instead of resorting to words scrambled on a piece of paper or text messages on a screen.
he gently placed a little timid peck to your nose before releasing your face and fumbling around in his pockets for his phone, tapping it awake once he retrieved it and opening his notes app to write out a sentence.
he flipped and faced the screen towards you, the brightness making you squint a bit.
“i do care i swear. i just always forget when i’m in the middle of it and i’m sorry baby.”
“so you keep forgetting after what feels like the fifteenth time i’ve told you?” you wiped more tears from your cheeks. “how— how do you think it makes me feel when you come home and you’re coughing up blood all over your clothes and the furniture huh? all over me?”
he sighed softly through his nose and went to type again, but you continued.
“i get scared toge that one day you’ll push yourself way too far and then you just won’t come home. you scare me when you cough up so much blood like that!—”
toge tugged you in then with his unoccupied hand and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head in and stuffing your face against his chest— the scent of his freshly washed t-shirt filling your nose as you cried softly.
fuck he felt like such a douche.
he typed for a moment behind your head, a pit in his stomach that only grew in size the longer he heard your little sniffles.
toge pulled back a bit, his arms still keeping you in place but just enough so that he could lower his phone and show you his message.
“please please don’t cry. i’m really sorry okay i really am and honest to god this won’t happen again.”
you nodded meekly and he flipped his phone back, quickly typing again and showing you once he finished.
“i feel like you think i don’t care but that’s not true at all. part of the reason why i try so hard when i work is because the more curses i fuck up the safer you’ll be when you’re out there without me.”
you laughed a bit at his wording, and he beamed at that, typing.
“i love you pretty girl. and im sorry i always get blood everywhere.”
“oh i don’t care about the mess baby, i care about youu,” you whined lightly and wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him in tight.
“and i love you too, a lot… like an embarrassing amount that strips away my dignity.”
he chuckled boyishly and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his body stuttering slightly as a single thought grazed his mind— the same thought that’s been in the crevices of his brain since he asked you to be his.
you felt his tension and pulled back.
“what?”
toge bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at you, his weight shifting as he contemplated telling you something he didn’t want to burden or upset you with, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing over your chubby cheek.
you quirked an eyebrow. “what? are you cheating on me?”
he burst out laughing and shook his head, kissing your forehead before dropping his hand from your cheek and pulling out his phone again.
he typed for a minute then showed you.
“me not being able to speak to you like a normal boyfriend should or respond to you whenever makes me freaking useless. so i push myself out there to keep you safe because that’s literally the least i can do for you, since i can’t even do the bare minimum.”
you gasped softly. “toge huh? this is—”
he shook his head once more and you stopped as he typed again.
“i always try to make you laugh with the things that i do or whenever i text you because i’m afraid that one day you’ll get tired of me not being able to talk to you and you’ll leave. which is also something i would never blame you for and understand.”
your heart squeezed in the worst excruciatingly way possible, completely baffled and mortified to the fact that toge was thinking about things like this and wholeheartedly believing it without you noticing or him saying anything to you about it.
he typed again.
“that’s why i cosplay as gojo when i leave for missions and come back a dumbass with blood in my mouth. that’s why i forget when you tell me to be careful because the need to be something for you is way fucking greater.”
“togeee!” you sobbed, bursting out crying like a little baby as you were moved and haunted by his words simultaneously, your arms engulfing him as he desperately shot his hands out and quickly wiped your tears again, shaking his head frantically as if pleading with you not to cry.
“how could you ever believe that?” you nudged him away and hiccuped, your eyes serious. “why haven’t you told me about this? everything you just said is literally propaganda.”
he chuckled, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“toge, why do you think i’ve been with you for so long? do you think i’m just dicking around?”
“dicking around on my dick?”
you swatted his phone away. “no! not right now.”
you both shared a small giggle, twinkling eyes looking at each other.
“if i felt like you weren’t doing even the bare minimum, i would’ve been gone before you had the chance to put this ring on—”
his gaze drifted down to the black shiny heart promise ring on your ring finger that you held up for him, and he smiled softly.
“baby what you do for me everyday is above and beyond the bare minimum. i’m happy. i’m so happy to be with you that you not doing enough has never crossed my mind and it never will.”
you slid your arms around his neck and pulled him down a little, gently. “i’ve never cared about your ability to speak. i fell in love with you, who you are, and the fact that i did without you having to iterate words to me? olympic sport.”
toge rolled his eyes playfully at your comment, and you stood on your tippy toes and kissed the tip of his pretty nose then. “all men do when they talk is lie anyways…” you tilted your head. “but i know you’ll never lie to me.”
“never.” he mouthed silently.
he bundled you up in his arms and lifted you like you were nothing, him carefully leaning in and pressing his lips to yours as if you were a fragile little thing— kissing you so devotedly, warmly, his forehead resting against yours once he pulled apart after greedily getting his daily fix of you.
“i know your job as a jujutsu sorcerer pays the bills and comes with you putting yourself in difficult situations… and my job doesn’t even compare, but please don’t overdo it for my sake. i want you to come home, okay?”
you know it’s selfish… he should be saving lives no matter the cost.
but he was your man. was it so bad to just want to keep him for the rest of your days? to get the chance to grow old with him, and buy a little quiet house on the country side like you always joked about in the late hours of the night with him? drinking cool glasses of lemonade on the porch?
“please don’t always be the hero.” you whispered guiltily. “but if you must… just keep me in mind while you do it.”
you’re always on his mind. he hopes you know that.
toge breathed softly through his nose and smoothly set you back down, the pads of your feet making contact with the icy tile flooring as his hands dragged up from around your waist to the sides of your head, him pushing a hard kiss to your cheek as if to seal your request.
“do you promise?” you mumbled.
he pulled back and held his little pinky out for you, and you giggled, linking yours with his firmly.
“you can’t go back on it okay? you used your pinky it’s legally binding!” you warned, a silly smile on your face. “don’t lie to me and break it.”
toge grinned and leaned towards you as he bent down a bit— your gaze locking with his as he looked at you at eye level with his hands on his knees, him mouthing his next words, slowly.
words that made your cheeks buzz a cutesy pink, words that he took seriously, and words that tied you to him and the little house by the countryside he wanted so badly with you, as those words solidified how much he truly truly loved you— him hoping you always knew.
“i would never lie to you.” he mouthed.
taglist!! <33: @saebaey
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pboogerswbb · 27 days ago
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EARNED IT
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Paige Bueckers x reader
In which reader wants a pair of shoes but instead of just buying them, Paige makes reader earn them, each orgasm bringing her $200 closer - loosely based on a request @d3arapril got and passed onto me (ty girl ily)
Warnings: SMUT (slight CNC, use of a dildo, overstim, P being a little sadistic), lowkey filthiest thing i've written so beware
Wordcount: 4.9K
A/N: SURPRISE! enjoy this little pre-game treat while I work on the prologue for So It Goes ;)
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It had been a long day. Work had been killing you and frankly, you missed your girlfriend who had been training tirelessly in the past weeks. It was as if the only times you saw each other were when she was about to leave, coming into your bedroom and kissing you goodbye for the day, or the couple hours after she got home when you ate dinner together and went to bed. 
It was all okay, you understood the stakes, you always knew what it entailed to date the famous Paige Bueckers. That basketball was her life, that it meant a lot of lonely nights, sometimes for weeks during the season. But it was all worth it, because when she was there, you were the most spoiled, pampered girl in the world.
You could hear the shower turn off as you sat on the couch of your apartment, looking for something to spoil yourself with on your phone - you had received a bonus earlier today and thought you deserved something nice to celebrate. So naturally, almost out of habit, your finger was scrolling on the Louboutin homepage, admiring your dream shoes - the shiny leather and bright red sole of the shoe drawing you eye in. Maybe if you saved a little more, you could finally get them.
“You’d look so fine in those,” you’re interrupted by Paige, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were up to. When you turn around you find her shower fresh, wet hair still dripping and a robe tied loosely on her body. She smelled so delicious and clean you just wanted to bask in her. To throw yourself on her and have her hold you for days on end.
Paige kisses the top of your head from behind as she leans down and wraps two arms around you. Heaven is the only way to describe how that felt after days of missing her.
“Well gimme a couple months and I’ll save up,” you chuckle, tilting your head back to look at her. She smiles but scoffs a little at your words.
“I gotchu,” she laughs and yanks the phone out of your hands much too quickly for your reflexes.
“No!!” you yelp, jumping off the couch in a white top and underwear, following her around your apartment, feeble attempts to try and steal back the phone as she dodges you with ease, a smug grin on her face.
“‘S not even that much, relax,” Paige pushes your hands away gently, plopping herself down on the armchair in your living room that the blonde had reclaimed as “hers”. 
“Got that NIL money, can buy my girl whatever she wants,” she brags, leaning back in the robe that’s not doing much to cover her legs up. The sliver of white boxers on her muscular thighs electrify you, and the confident expression on her face doesn’t help when you feel the familiar ache fluttering between your thighs.
“It’s 800 dollars Paige,” you point out, sitting yourself on the blonde’s thigh, like you had so many times before. It was something about this chair that made her want to have you on her constantly. Perhaps it was the way you two fit in it just right, the way you felt small in her arms. Nevertheless, you had spent hours in this chair scrolling Tiktok, sharing a tub of ice cream, reading books or just talking after a long day.
Paige holds you bridal style, your bare legs sprawled across her lap. Her fingertips draw patterns up and down on your thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere. You loved these moments, they almost made up the fact that she was gone most days.
“That’s nothing baby, don’ worry,” Paige murmurs, already putting her card details in. 
“I’m serious P!” you groan, grabbing your phone finally from the blonde’s hands. Truth be told, you felt a little bad. Paige was always showering you with gifts, trips on your birthday, hell she had even convinced she should pay for your groceries since she was over all the time and ate most of them. She paid for every date, for gas, drove you around whenever she could. She spoiled the hell out of you and you let her. You knew she loved to do it. But still, something about it made you feel bad. To have your girl do so much for you without giving anything in return.
“I wanna earn it! I just got a bonus and if I save up some more I can get them,” you explain, the bewildered look on Paige’s face finally softening. A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as her blue eyes roam over your face, flickering to your lips. Her fingertips sneak further up your leg as her tongue licks over her pink bottom lip. All that was enough for you to know Paige had something dirty on her mind.
“Oh yeah? You wanna earn it?” she asks menacingly. With a confused look you nod, not quite sure what she meant.
Instead of explaining, she’s pulling you in by the back of your head, kissing you feverishly. The tension grows quickly, each kiss more passionate than the last. She wants you bad. Your hands entangle in her wet hair as you wrap your arms around the blonde. The fresh scent of shampoo, mango and guava, fills your nostrils. Paige moves her hand to your inner thighs, squeezing and caressing the soft skin, making a wet spot grow on your underwear embarrassingly quickly. 
She pulls her lips away with a struggle, attempting to catch her breath. You wince, already missing her mouth. 
“You wanna play a lil game with me baby?” She asks, hooded eyes blinking quickly as she refocuses on your face.
“What game?” Your voice is shaky from how much the ache between your legs had grown.
Paige sits up a little, clearing her throat. “Well, you said you wanna earn it,” she starts, walking her fingers up your thigh slowly. “and I really wanna touch you baby,” she adds. “How about each time you cum for me you get 200 dollars?”
The blush that sets on your cheeks is immediate, making your face red and hot. At first you want to shake your head, immediately turn it down. It felt so wrong. But then Paige’s fingertips inch closer to your core, and you can’t help but consider. She really wants to get you off after all. And if there was one thing about Paige, once she started she didn’t know how to stop.
The blue eyes roam your face, looking for a reaction. With a huff, Paige leans in and kisses on your earlobe. “Been away so much lately, need my girl,” she hums into your ear, chills taking over your body. That’s enough to do it.
“Okay,” you whimper, Paige grinning against your skin.
“Yeah? You not gon’ tap out?” She says with that arrogant lilt in her voice as your gazes meet.
“No.” 
Your tone is much more confident than you are.
“Bet.”
With that Paige’s fingertips press into your clothed core, dragging along your clit as you moan, your head already lulling back.
“You already this wet?” The blonde chuckles irritatingly, but you’re too desperate for her to do anything about it.
“Been missing you,” you whimper as her fingers rub in a circle, her lips returning to your ear as they suck on your earlobe, pulling on it with her teeth.
“Fuck I know baby, haven’t been giving you enough attention huh?” She coos, hot breath on your neck. You nod, agreeing with her, growing wetter, needier for something she wasn’t giving you yet. “Lemme make it up for you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Stand up.”
You do as she says as if in some sort of trance, willing to bend every which way for her. Paige looks up at you, spreading her legs further and reaching for your panties. With a swift movement she pulls them down, leaving you only in the tight white tank top in front of her. 
She pats her thigh, flexing the muscle there, inviting you to sit. It’s so tempting you don’t hesitate even for a moment when you straddle it. A gasp leaves your mouth when your wet cunt meets her soft, warm skin. She hisses, feeling your slick on her, licking her lips.
“Oh shit,” you whimper, Paige’s hands moving to your ass, kneading hungrily. You could already feel a fire in your abdomen, making you lightheaded. 
“C’mon,” the blonde urges you to move, her hands beginning to grind your hips back and forth. The way her thigh drags along your clit is making you see stars. Paige’s eyes are locked on the way you’re grinding on her, her cheeks turning red as she lets out loud exhales and hisses at the way your pussy feels on her skin. 
Grabbing onto her shoulders, you fasten the pace, needy for more. 
“That feels so- oh fuck baby,” you moan, feeling Paige flex her thigh underneath you, providing just the correct angle and pressure for you. Your legs are already shaking as her hands guide you, hips moving back and forth.
“Shit,” Paige whimpers as if she’s the one getting off. Leaning forward she begins to kiss your neck, sucking enough to leave a mark and a sting but it only spurs you on. Grabbing the hem of your top, she lifts it just enough to reveal your tits, eyes locked on the way they move with your body as you grind faster.
“Look so fucking good,” she murmurs almost to herself, one hand kneading your ass, the other your breast. “C’mon, you gonna get off on my thigh?” 
You nod desperately, hair falling all over your face as the coil inside you tightens, the pressure on your clit bordering on overwhelming. Your movements were turning sloppy as your orgasm approached you, desperately grinding your hips. To help you Paige’s hands return to your ass, assisting with the movements. 
“Fuck Paige, fuck,” you gasp, the burn in your core so intense it made your eyes roll back. A loud smack is followed with a sharp pain as Paige slaps your ass harshly, spurring you on.
“C’mon baby,” she groans, leaning forward to kiss your chest feverishly. As her warm tongue begins to circle your nipple, you can feel yourself starting to spill over. Hands gripping onto her shoulders, she flexes her muscles one more time, your clit rubbing desperately on her thigh as you come. 
“Oh-” you’re gasping, face scrunched up in pleasure as Paige’s hands guide your hips, soft lips sucking on your nipple to make the pleasure even more intense. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your cunt clenches around nothing, slick spilling out of you.
“That never gets old,” Paige moans as you try to catch your breath, your movements coming to a halt as the blonde keeps kissing along your neck and jaw. Your body already feels tired, worn out. But the night was just beginning.
“That’s 200 bucks for you ma,” she grins, finding your lips in a needy kiss. “You should know tho, you riding my thigh is worth a lot more,” Paige murmurs against your mouth. “Fuck, would pay millions to see that shit.”
Her words make you whimper into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slide her tongue inside, meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Grabbing your thighs, Paige stands up from the chair and lifts you with ease, her robe falling open as she walks you to the couch. Placing you on the soft cushions, she watches you with hooded eyes.
“Wait here,” she murmurs before disappearing into your bedroom. When she returns, her robe is hanging off her shoulders loosely, chests and abs completely exposed. In her large hands she’s holding a purple, 7 inch dildo. A gift from the blonde but left unused because of how busy she had been.
You could still feel your core throbbing from your last orgasm, but the heat was quick to grow again when you see Paige holding it with a grin. As you lie on your back, waiting for her to touch you, Paige walks to the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and spreading her legs. 
“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, her fingers curling to invite you closer. Excited, you crawl to her. Paige’s impatient hands grab you and pull you onto her lap until you’re straddling her.
“You wanna put on a show for me?” She asks. Her head is tilted back as she watches you, the blue of her eyes completely blown out.
“Yes,” you whimper and gasp when her hand smacks your ass again, sharp pain following but making your pussy more soaked if possible.
“Such a slut huh?” She asks, making you only needier. Paige looks down between her thighs, holding the toy there in her hand, the plastic pressing against your stomach.
“Ride this shit,” she says, and you can tell it’s not a suggestion with the way she’s looking at you, her jaw suddenly sharper, eyes even darker. Your legs still feel shaky, but the urge to be filled up by her is so overwhelming you can’t help but lift your hips.
The tip of the toy presses against your folds, the blonde sliding it to your entrance teasingly. Your slick is already dripping down its length as you lower yourself on the tip, Paige’s hand on your hip guiding you.
A loud gasp escapes your mouth as Paige pulls you down on the length, making you take all of it. The stretch is too much, overwhelming you quickly, making your eyes roll back. However, Paige’s grounding hand grabs your jaw firmly, bringing your eyes to hers.
“Earn it ma,” she commands, leaning back and holding the toy steady with both hands. You knew exactly what she wanted.
With slow movements you begin to move up and down on the toy, letting it fill you up all the way. It feels so good it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but moan loud when it hits somewhere deep inside you you didn’t even know existed.
“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Paige is leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes and mouth slightly parted, moaning with you like she’s the one getting fucked.
“You’re so hot,” she groans, licking her lips. “Play with those tits for me.”
Without thinking your hands grab onto your chest, kneading as you pick up the pace, now bouncing on the toy that Paige is holding. The blonde can’t take it anymore, hand snaking around you to grab your ass hard. 
“Paige-” you gasp as she smacks your ass again, hard enough to leave marks to remind you of tonight for the days to come.
“That’s it ma, love it when you ride my shit,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and deep. Watching you is getting Paige so wet she thinks she might come untouched, watching you bounce on the toy - what might as well be her cock. 
She can’t help it anymore, purely the way you look is getting her close enough to come. Her veiny hand moves off your ass, dragging down her stomach into her boxers where she’s met with her soaked cunt already throbbing. 
“Ah shit,” she moans as her fingers slip inside her, filling her up while you ride the toy for her. 
“C’mon, faster,” Paige commands. Whimpering and writhing, you maneuver from your knees to your feet, squatting on the toy now. Gripping Paige’s muscular shoulders for dear life, you begin to bounce on the toy, your tits in the blonde’s face.
“Such a good girl for me, shit,” she moans, her fingers pumping in and out of herself. She’s struggling not to come before you, her head lulling back and eyes nearly shutting. 
“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the burn in your thighs becoming overwhelming as you ride her, your pussy clenching around the length inside you. Leaning backwards to give Paige an even better view, you reach back to hold her thighs for support, making sure she sees all the inches disappearing inside you, stretching you out.
“Fuck baby you making a mess on my cock huh?” Paige whimpers, trying to sound together but there’s a whine in her voice that’s telling you she’s trying not to roll off the edge.
“Feels so good,” you gasp, the new angle letting the tip of the toy hit the spongy part inside you, making fire spread all over your abdomen. You’re dripping around the toy now, probably all over the couch, but neither of you seem to care.
“You like how my cock feels inside you?” Paige asks, voice breathy.
Nodding desperately, you allow your head to lull back, the squelching sounds coming out of both of you echoing around the living room. “Love riding your cock baby.”
“Aw sh- please tell me you’re close ma,” Paige cries out, her cunt throbbing around her fingers as she watches you.
“N-need to cum,” you mewl, tears filling your eyes.
“Shit- that’s right baby, earn it for me,” Paige rambles, her voice getting whinier as your pussy squeezes the toy tight, your movements on it turning rampant as you chase your high.
“Such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum,” the blonde continues, forcing her eyes to stay open as she spills over the edge so she can watch you come on her cock. All of a sudden intense pleasure takes over you, and your moans turn high pitched and desperate as you release all over the toy, the stretch making your legs shake.
“Aw fuck you look so fucking good, yeah ride that shit,” Paige moans loud as she comes with you. Plenty of high pitched cusses spill from her pink lips but you barely hear her, too focused on the ecstasy running through you. Once the feeling passes you crash onto the blonde underneath you, whole body shaking from the strain.
“That’s it baby,” Paige praises, sliding her fingers out of her cunt and carefully bringing them to your lips. They’re glistening in the light, covered in her slick. Eyes still closed and head resting on the blonde’s chest, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around them, tasting her. You wrap your lips around her fingers and suck on them as Paige pulls the toy out of you, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind.
“No more,” you whisper once the blonde’s fingers return to her side. She chuckles, brushing the hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead. 
“C’mon now that’s only 400 bucks,” she laughs but you shake your head. 
“It’s ok, I can save the rest,” you complain, your body sore and tired and way too sensitive to be touched.
“Well I’m not done with you yet ma,” Paige whispers. “So you might as well earn a lil sum.”
With that Paige is pushing you to your back, the robe finally falling off her body leaving her exposed, nipples hard and goosebumps covering her milky skin. Her hands grip your thighs spreading them wide and without warning, she leans down and begins to slowly drag her tongue along your cunt, taking her time.
You’re already squirming, two hands on her head ready to push her off. The two orgasms had left you sensitive and worn out. You’re not sure if you could do more. But Paige seemed to have decided for you.
She grabs your wrists, pulling them to your side against the couch. “Keep ‘em there,” she orders as she begins to lick against your puffy, swollen clit, humming contently as your body begins squirms. 
“‘S too much,” you cry out but she shakes her head, moaning into your pussy. 
“No it’s not, you can take it,” she assures, arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer, to hold you down. She’s lapping you up now, desperately trying to taste every inch of you. Her warm tongue swirls in your folds, moaning at your taste. If there was something Paige Bueckers loves it’s eating pussy. “Doin’ so good for me,” she praises.
The sensation is enough to make your legs tremble desperately, your third orgasm quickly building up. Every muscle in your body ached, and all touches and flicks on your clit felt heightened, making your eyes well up. You were a mess, back arching, hands grabbing the couch, the soft pillows thrown all over the floor now. Every part of you was writhing except your hips that Paige was holding down and still for her sake. She was eating you like she had never tasted you before, as if she had been starving for you.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, grabbing onto her blonde locks still wet from the shower. As you yank Paige moans, watching you from underneath her long dark eyelashes. She’s watching for every reaction, blue eyes filled with lust and locked onto every movement, every expression. She can’t look away.
Paige lays her tongue flat against your puffy clit and shakes her head from one side to the other, your cunt beginning to throb immediately. 
“Just like that, shit baby,” you moan, pulling onto the blonde hair. Paige pulls back, buried so deep in your folds she’s gasping for air as she comes up. Her gaze moves from your face to your pussy, a mixture of her spit and your slick dripping out of you onto the couch.
“Aw fuck I can see this pussy throbbing,” Paige gasps and immediately dives back in, the strain in her jaw quickly forgotten by the sight of you. Suddenly she spits onto your folds and urgently leans back in to lap it all up. It was so hot, so dirty that the sight was enough for your muscles to begin to twitch a third time around this evening.
“Oh fuck, Paige-”
“Right there?” She asks, staring up at you from between your thighs, her fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. Her tongue lies flat against your swollen clit, circling against it making all the muscles in your body tremble desperately.
“Yes, yes yes yes yes!” You gasp, real tears spilling from your eyes. You’re teetering right on the edge, only needing permission now from the blonde between your thighs.
“Fuuuuckk ma, cum on my face, please,” she moans, fastening her movements and gripping you harder, her eyes rolling back when you yank on her hair hard. “Please,” Paige cries out, clearly desperate, needing to make you come.
“I’m coming, oh fuck-” you cry out, your whole back arching upwards but Paige’s hand presses you down as her tongue keeps working you, drinking up all of it as you crash over the edge. The sounds coming out of you are muffled from how hard the climax hits you, seeing stars as Paige keeps lapping you up.
“Okay okay okay stop,” you whine pulling her hair, the sensation becoming too much too quickly as you come down. But Paige only grabs your wrists tightly in one of her large hands, pinning them together and holding them against your stomach.
“I’m not fucking done,” Paige says directly into your pussy, not slowing down for a second. You try everything, squirming, pulling your hands free, but it was useless. She was way too strong, and clearly wanted you way too much to give in to your whining.
“Paige please,” you cry, eyes welling up again as the tip of her tongue moves back and forth at an accelerating speed.
“You’re not done till I say so,” Paige commands and from the tone of her voice you know - there’s no fighting if she had decided to have you.
“‘S too much.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Suddenly Paige has you flipped over, pressed against the soft armrest of the couch. Her strong hand quickly wraps around your hair and yanks on it, pulling your back flush against her exposed front.
“You want those shoes huh?” She asks with her lips pressed against your ear, a slight sadistic tone in your voice.
“Yes,” you answer weakly.
“Gotta earn it,” Paige says, kissing your neck before pushing you down by your hair till you’re bent over the armrest, ass high up in the air. Paige’s hands grip onto your ass and spread you wide open before you feel her tongue lick against your folds once, twice, until she dives and begins to lap you up even more hungry than before. 
“Oh fuck!” You gasp, completely forgetting about the thin walls and the poor neighbours next door. Nothing in this moment mattered except you, Paige and her plump lips sucking on your clit, still holding you wide open for her.
“Fucking love this pussy,” Paige groans, lips and mouth working hard, getting covered in a mixture of your mess and her spit. It’s simultaneously too much and so fucking hot, the way she’s eating you from behind, the way her nose is pressing against your entrance, rubbing against it teasingly.
Suddenly your pussy is throbbing around nothing, and it’s like the blonde can tell because next thing you know you feel a sudden stretch inside you. The toy from earlier suddenly pounds into you, making you gasp.
“Ohhhhhh shit P-” you can’t even form full sentences, the sudden sensation and the speed which Paige is fucking the dildo in and out of you with making you let out a cry louder than before.
“Ohh fuck ma, perfect pussy I swear,” Paige groans, pulling herself back to fuck the toy into you with more force, watching the way you’re getting stretched out. 
“‘S too big,” you cry, reaching back to push the blonde’s hands away. She grabs your wrists, holding both in one hand with ease and pinning them against your back.
“Don’t push me away,” she asserts, somehow finding a new angle as you crash flat against the armrest, making you take it even deeper. You could swear she’s in your guts now, and the loud squelching sounds your soaked cunt is making is only making your mind spin more.
Your whole body’s shaking as your front presses against the soft cushions of the couch, Paige pinning you down by your wrists as she keeps fucking into you. Your juices are everywhere, on the couch, on Paige’s face and hands, gushing out of you around the toy. 
“You gonna cum on this cock?” Paige asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. 
“Mmph-” you moan, face buried into the armrest. The blonde lets go of your wrists and smacks your ass, gripping it tight to fuck the toy even deeper, impossibly so.
“Answer me baby,” she groans, increasing her speed, the tip hitting the right spot each time to make you clench and throb so hard you could barely think.
“Yes yes yes ‘m gonna come fuck,” you cry, grabbing the cushions of the couch desperately.
“Yeah, you gonna cum for me just to get some shoes?” Paige sadistically says, kneading your ass. The wet sounds are becoming louder, your mess dripping everywhere.
“Yes Paige, please please please!” 
“Perfect girl, perfect fucking pussy huh? Letting me fuck your shit up just like this?” 
“Yes, please P-”
“Cum for me.”
She’s killing your shit, toy pounding into your guts. The stretch is so intense your eyes roll back involuntarily, and a loud whimper leaves your body as your pussy clenches around the toy, finally releasing and letting your climax wash over.
Paige is talking you through it, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t hear over your own moans, over the sounds coming from your body, over the way you felt like you might black out. Every muscle in your body is on fire, fingers gripping anything they could find. Next thing you’re being carried into your bedroom, Paige laying you down gently on your back and climbing next to you.
Finally your eyes flutter open as the blonde pulls you into her chest.
“What happened?” you murmur, and Paige chuckles.
“Just made you cum a lil too hard I think,” she laughs and kisses your forehead. Her hands are playing with the ends of your hair, stroking your arms and back, grounding you.
“Did so good for me,” the blonde coos, kissing your lips softly. You could still taste yourself on her. “You okay?”
You nod. All your muscles ache and the strain had made you exhausted, but that definitely made up for all the time Paige had spent away from you in the past weeks.
“That was hot,” you admit, which makes the blonde let out a loving giggle.
“Not you saying that, hottest thing we ever did I swear,” Paige praises, pressing kisses on top of your head again. “Let me go run you a bath baby.”
But as she moves you wrap your arms tighter around her waist, pulling her closer with all the strength you had left. 
“A little longer,” you whisper against her sticky skin. Paige couldn’t dream of leaving you alone, not like this, not when you sound like that - all of it makes her bend to your every whim, she couldn’t help it.
“Okay, a little longer,” she repeats. 
“And you’re ordering those shoes now,” you command, a slight shake to your voice from the prior activities.
“Deal.”
-
taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @jadasogay @paigesbabygirl
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seospicybin · 7 months ago
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TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE
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ROUND 1
Lee Know x reader. (s)
Related chapters: Round 2.
Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)
Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊
Content warning: Infidelity.
This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.
-
So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.
A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.
Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.
After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.
The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.
Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.
"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile
The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.
"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.
It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.
Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.
How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.
That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.
Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.
"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.
You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.
"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.
"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.
"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.
Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.
"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."
"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.
You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."
"Night," Kim cheerily says.
You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.
The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.
As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.
You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.
It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—
"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.
"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.
"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.
There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.
He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.
The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.
-
Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.
At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.
The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.
From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.
The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.
However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.
After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.
In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.
Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.
You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.
From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.
But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.
-
Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.
You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"
She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.
It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.
"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.
She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"
"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.
"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.
Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"
Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.
"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.
"What party?"
"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.
But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.
"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.
She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."
So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"
"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.
"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.
"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."
Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"
"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."
It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.
"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.
"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.
Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.
-
The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.
The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.
Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.
The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.
Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.
"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.
Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.
When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.
"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.
"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.
You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.
"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.
Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.
"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.
You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.
Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.
Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.
"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.
The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.
"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.
"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.
You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.
"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.
"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"
Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."
"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.
You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.
"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.
"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.
Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.
After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.
Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"
"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.
"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.
He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.
You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.
"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.
"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.
Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.
"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.
"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.
It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.
"It's really good," you tell him.
"Thank you," he says with a grin.
He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"
You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.
"Hey, you!"
Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.
You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.
"Oh, hey," you greet back.
Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"
"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.
"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.
"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.
"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.
"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.
"Two truths and a lie," someone says.
You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.
"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.
It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.
"Yes, I do," you answer.
Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"
"Right now?"
"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.
You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.
"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.
There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.
"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.
"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.
"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.
You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.
"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.
You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.
Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"
Paul drinks his beer in defeat.
"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.
"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.
"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.
"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.
"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.
He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."
"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.
Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.
"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.
You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.
"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.
Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"
Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.
You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.
"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.
Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."
Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."
He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.
"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.
Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.
You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.
But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."
Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.
Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.
"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.
"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.
"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.
Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."
Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"
"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.
Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.
Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.
"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.
Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"
"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.
"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.
While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.
It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.
When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.
This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.
"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.
Coming here was a bad idea!
But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.
As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.
You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.
Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.
Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.
"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.
"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.
You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.
"You just don't care, do you?"
He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.
"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.
He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.
You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.
Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.
"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.
He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.
"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.
Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.
Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.
The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.
As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.
"We have to stop," you mutter to him.
But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?
Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.
You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.
He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.
"So what do we do now?"
That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?
Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?
"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.
"Suck my tits," you order.
It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.
His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.
"Nibble on my nipples," you command.
You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.
"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.
While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.
This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.
The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.
"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.
Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.
"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.
He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.
"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.
"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."
It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.
You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.
Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.
"Touch me there," you whisper into him.
Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.
"Put your fingers in."
Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.
"Add one more."
He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.
"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.
Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.
His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.
"Curl them— Oh!"
Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.
You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.
He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.
Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.
Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.
Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.
"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.
You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.
"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.
All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.
You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.
It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.
"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.
Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.
The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.
"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.
Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.
When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.
"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."
Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.
It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.
"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.
You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.
Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.
"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.
In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.
He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.
When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.
"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.
Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.
Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.
"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.
He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.
What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.
Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.
Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.
It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.
Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.
After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."
He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.
They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.
You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.
"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.
"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.
"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.
Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.
Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.
"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.
"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.
"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.
If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.
"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.
"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.
The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.
It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.
You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.
"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.
"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.
"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.
Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.
But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.
"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.
Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.
"I can help you with that," Minho offers.
You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"
You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.
"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.
There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.
Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.
"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.
"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."
"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.
"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.
"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.
Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.
That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.
-
Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.
You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.
And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.
So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.
Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.
The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.
Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.
"Where are you going?" She asks.
You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.
She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"
"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.
"And you think you don't need my help?"
"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."
"I would to go out on the weekend too."
Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.
Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"
"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.
"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"
"Yeah..." you meekly say.
She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"
That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.
"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.
"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.
"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.
The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.
"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.
"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."
You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.
-
The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.
You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.
Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.
It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.
"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.
"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.
He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.
"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.
You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.
You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.
In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.
"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.
He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"
The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.
You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.
"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.
You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.
It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.
The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.
Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.
You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."
All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?
Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.
You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.
"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.
Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.
-
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thef1diary · 7 months ago
Text
Edged | C. Leclerc
Summary: Despite Charles' warning, you couldn't help but continue to test his patience. True to his words, he edges you until you lose your mind.
Part 1: piano punishment
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warnings: 18+, smut, dom!charles, bratty!reader, orgasm denial, edging, slight pain play, spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), blowjob, use of vibrator, degrading words, dirty talk, praise kink, nipple tease, mention of squirting, slight dacryphilia
wc: 4k
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© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work
You were solely to blame for the situation you were about to put yourself in, especially since Charles had warned you about it beforehand. But the thought of testing his patience was too tempting to resist.
It started subtly. You began wearing shorter clothes around the house, barely-there shorts and tops that left little to the imagination. Every moment was calculated, every bend and stretch designed to catch his eye.
One evening, you found Charles lounging in the living room. His eyes followed you as you moved around, pretending to be oblivious to his attention. This time, you were wearing nothing but one of his old shirts, barely buttoned.
You sauntered over to the bookshelf next to the couch he was on, your movements slow and deliberate. Reaching for a book on the lower shelf, you arched your back, the shirt rising to reveal the curve of your ass. You could feel his gaze burning into you and a small grin made its way to your face knowing your plan was working.
Straightening up, you let one shoulder of the shirt slip down, exposing the soft mound of your breast. The edge of the fabric rested just above your hardened nipple, clearly visible through the thin material.
Charles' eyes darkened with desire as he called you over. "Que faites-vous?" [what are you doing?] he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and lust.
You smiled innocently, holding up the book. "I'm about to read," you replied, making no effort to adjust the shirt.
His gaze lingered on the exposed skin, a spark of something more mischievous forming in his mind. He nodded while he reached out and gently grabbed your free hand, pulling you closer until you were straddling him, your knees sinking into the leather couch.
His hand flicked the edge of the fabric covering your nipple, exposing it fully to his heated gaze. Using his other hand, he revealing your other nipple as well before circling around the sensitive buds with his thumbs, sending shivers down your spine.
"Just reading?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So if I unbutton what's left of this shirt and drag my fingers down, I won't find your pussy wet and desperate for my attention?"
His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, your breath hitching as he unbuttoned the remaining buttons of the shirt with deliberate slowness. He looked into your eyes waiting for your response as his fingers lingered on the fabric.
Resting your arms on his shoulders, hooking your fingers together behind him, you shrugged, a coy smile making its way to your face. "Why don't you find out?"
A knowing smirk played on his lips as his hand travelled down your body, finally reaching the wetness between your legs since you'd forgone panties yet again.
His fingers brushed against your slick folds, eliciting a gasp from you. "Just as I thought," he whispered, his voice low and teasing. "Absolutely soaked." He teased your clit lightly, rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves, making you writhe against him.
"Charles," you moaned, your hips moving of their own accord, seeking more of his touch.
His free hand moved to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him as his other hand worked its magic between your legs. Your shirt had fallen completely open now, leaving you fully exposed to him. His lips found your neck, pressing kisses along your skin as his fingers dipped inside of you, curling to hit that sweet spot.
Your moans grew louder, your body trembling with the need to cum. "Charles— 'm close," you stuttered out, rocking your hips against his palm for added stimulation.
"No," he firmly stated, moving his fingers away right as you were about to reach the edge.
Confused and frustrated, you looked at him, your eyes pleading for an explanation. His fingers grazed over your clit before pinching it harshly. The sudden sharp sensation made you arch in painful pleasure, a cry escaping your lips.
"Don't you remember what I told you?" he asked, his tone firm.
You shook your head, your mind too clouded with need to recall his words. "I don't remember," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.
He faked pity, pulling his fingers away from your clit before his hand rounded to your ass, smacking it lightly. "Think, mon amour," he said, his tone both mocking and commanding. "What did I say I would do if you acted out again?"
Your eyes widened as the memory flooded back, realization dawning on you. "Behave, and it won't happen. Act out, and I swear, this was the last orgasm you'll experience for a long, long time."
Already shaking your head in silent protest, you tried to plead with him, but the words were stuck in your throat. He chuckled, noticing the expression of dawning comprehension on your face. "Ah, you remember now," he murmured, satisfaction lacing his voice.
Desperate to convince him otherwise, you ground down on him, your hips moving in a frantic rhythm. "Charles, baby, please," you begged, your voice breathless. "I'll be good, I promise."
His hands moved to grip your thighs, holding you still. "No," he said firmly, lifting you slightly off him so you couldn't grind on him anymore.
Before you could say anything else, his hand came down sharply on your pussy, the sting making you gasp and fall silent. "You've had your chance to behave, but you couldn't help but still try to tease me hmm?" he asked rhetorically, his fingers now slipping between your folds, pressing against your clit with just enough pressure to keep you on edge but not enough to let you cum.
You whimpered, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. "Please Charles," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I need it."
He smirked, his fingers never stopping their teasing. "Oh I know you do," he said, his tone almost sympathetic. "But you're gonna have to wait until I think you're a good girl. This is your punishment remember?"
You could only nod, biting your lip to stifle your cries as his fingers continued their relentless torment. His other hand came up to your tits, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you arch your back.
"You're gonna learn your lesson, mon amour," he murmured, his voice commanding. "And by the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to behave."
He pressed a firm kiss to your lips, his touch both reassuring and dominent. Pulling back, he looked into your eyes. "Go get your favourite toy from the bedroom," he instructed.
You hesitated for a moment, the heat of his gaze making you feel both excited yet nervous knowing that no matter which toy you choose, you won't be allowed to cum. His shirt still hung loosely off your frame, barely covering anything as you walked to the bedroom, your legs shaky from his earlier teasing.
You made your way to the bedroom, opening the bottom drawer of the dresser where you and Charles kept your growing collection. Neither of you were shy about adding toys to your bedroom activities since it only heightened both of your pleasures.
You scanned the neatly arranged toys: a variety of vibrators, dildos, and plugs in different sizes and shapes. Among them, you spotted the remote-controlled vibrator that Charles could connect to his phone.
With a deep breath, you picked up the vibrator, its smooth, curved design fitting perfectly in your hand. You knew this choice would please him, giving him the ability to edge you to his heart's content.
Returning to the living room, you handed the toy to Charles, who smirked approvingly. "Good girl," he praised. "See, it's really not that hard to behave. But you," he continued, connecting the vibrator to his phone through the app, "are such a slut for me that you can't even think straight when you're needy."
You were still standing in front of him, clenching your thighs together as you thought of how the rest of the night would go.
Charles nudged your feet apart, spreading your legs wide to prepare you for the vibrator. His fingers returned to your pussy, sliding his fingers back and forth, separating your folds as his palm pressed against your clit. Sitting on the edge of the couch, he was at eye level with your sweet pussy, and he couldn't resist the urge to taste you.
He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, and placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. Slowly, his tongue traced a path along your sensitive flesh, making you shiver in anticipation. His fingers continued their gentle teasing, but it was his mouth that drove you wild.
Charles' tongue flicked over your clit, sending electric jolts of pleasure through your body. He alternated between gentle licks and firm pleasure, his mouth working in tandem with his fingers. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as your knees threatened to buckle from the intense sensations.
He groaned against your pussy, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure. His tongue dipped into your entrance, tasting your arousal before moving back to your clit. You could feel yourself getting wetter, coating his fingers, mouth, and even dripping down your thighs.
With one hand, Charles reached for the vibrator, its smooth surface cool against your heated skin. He spread your lips with his fingers, using the vibrator to gather your wetness before slowly sliding it inside you. The sensation of the toy filling you, combined with his tongue on your clit, made you cry out in pleasure.
Your hand made its way to his hair, tugging on the strands as you neared the edge. Charles responded with a playful slap to your ass, making you gasp. He then turned the vibrator on to the highest setting, causing your knees to buckle, a moan leaving your lips as intense pleasure surged through you. He chuckled casually, as if he made a mistake, before turning it down to the lowest setting before you could cum, ripping away your orgasm at the last moment.
"No! Please," you begged, gripping onto his shoulder as you bucked up your hips in a poor attempt to keep the pleasure flowing through your body.
"Oops," he said, a sly grin on his face. "Looks like you'll have to be patient, mon amour."
You whimpered in frustration, your body trembling with need. "Please, Charles," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.
He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Not yet," he replied, his fingers teasing your clit once more. "You'll have to earn it."
It took a moment for his words to sink in, but then you realized he was mocking what you had told him when you made him play the piano for you. A playful smile tugged at your lips despite your frustration. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be?" you murmured, your voice breathy.
Charles' smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "That's right. You told me to earn it, and I did, let's see if you can."
The vibrator hummed steadily inside you, just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over. You squirmed, trying to find some relief, but Charles held you steady, his grip firm on your hips.
"Do you remember how you made me play for you, teasing me by playing with your pussy right in front of me?" He asked, and you whimpered in response. "I would've let that go, but you've truly tested my patience, walking around almost naked."
He leaned closer, his lips grazing your inner thigh. "You love being a little tease, don't you? Showing off your body, knowing I can't resist you," he said, his voice dripping with lust and a hint of anger. "You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you? Always needing attention, always needing my cock."
His words sent a shiver down your spine, the degradation only adding to your arousal, and based on your expressions, he knew it too. "Baby, please..." you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore.
"Please what?" He mocked, his fingers nudging the vibrator set on your clit, gently pressing it into you. "You think you deserve to cum? After all the teasing, all the games?"
You shook your head, tears of frustration staining your cheeks. "I'm sorry, Charles, I'll be good, I promise."
"On your knees," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for an argument.
You dropped to your knees in front of him, the vibrator still pulsing inside of you, keeping you on the edge of madness. Charles leaned back, unzipping his pants and freeing his hardened cock. "You know what to do," he said, gesturing to his lap.
With eager hands, you reached for him, taking him into your mouth, inch by inch. As you drooled on his cock, spreading your spit all over, he played with the controls of the vibrator on his phone. The settings changing erratically from low to high, driving you to the brink and back repeatedly.
His hand found its way to your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed up and down. The sensation of him in your mouth, combined with the relentless teasing of the vibrator, was nearly too much to bear. Every time you thought you were close to release, Charles would change the setting, pulling you back from the edge and making you whimper around his cock.
"Just like that, mon amour," he groaned, his hips thrusting gently as you took him deeper. "You look so beautiful like this, desperate and eager to please."
You moaned around him, the vibrations of your sounds sending shivers down his spine. His grip in your hair tightened, urging you to take him faster. The vibrator still buzzed between your legs, its low, steady hum a constant reminder of your denied release. The sensation was maddening, like an itch you couldn't scratch, leaving you feeling like your orgasm was close, yet miles away.
Each thrust of his hips pushed him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around him as you struggled to take him all. Your hands gripped his thighs for support, nails digging into his skin. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him harder, your tongue swirling around his tip.
Charles groaned, his pleasure evident in the way his body tensed. He controlled your movements, guiding you with firm but gentle pressure. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, a telltale sign that he was close.
Your body screamed, every nerve ending trembling for release that never came. The frustration only heightened your arousal, making you whimper around him as he played with the vibrator controls again.
"Fuck, you're such a good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Taking me so well."
His praises spurred you on, making you bob your head faster, taking him deeper until he touched the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn't stop, desperate to please him.
With a strangled moan, Charles pulled out, quickly telling you to open your mouth. His cock twitched as he came, hot spurts landing on your tits and tongue, catching his cum and savouring the taste. Your fingers trailed down your body, gathering his cum before bringing them to your mouth and licking them clean. The act so erotic, plus the high vibrations pulsing in your pussy, it instinctively made you begin humping the air, desperate for release.
But just as you were about to have an earth-shattering orgasm, Charles turned the vibrator off completely. "No!" you cried out, the denial only making you sob louder. "Please, please, please, need it," you pleaded, words coming out a mumbled mess.
He picked you up off the floor, placing you back in his lap but this time he made you lean your back against his chest, hooking your legs over his so you couldn't close them.
"You still have a long way to go before I let you cum," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "But that doesn't mean I'll stop playing with your pretty pussy."
He took out the vibrator and replaced it with his fingers,  sliding them into you with ease. "After all, it belongs to me no?"
You whimpered in response, the sensation of his fingers filling you both soothing and maddening. As soon as he lightly touched your overstimulated clit, you arched your back, caught between wanting to pull away from his touch and needing more. Your body made the decision faster than your mind, pressing closer to him despite the overwhelming pleasure.
"You played with it right in front of me, telling me I can't touch you," he continued, his tone a mix of reproach and possessiveness. "Now it's my turn."
You hooked your arm around his neck, reaching up to press kisses to it while crying softly. His fingers began moving inside you, slow and deliberate, curling just enough to brush against your sweet spot.
"Now you're going to remember who this belongs to," he murmured, cupping your pussy with his palm. "You're going to learn your lesson, mon amour."
He set a punishing rhythm, his fingers thrusting in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit. You could feel your orgasm building again, but you knew he wouldn't let you have it. Your eyes dried out due to the amount of frustrated tears that spilled down your cheeks, but he still pushed you closer and closer, only to pull back before you could tip over the edge.
"Does that feel good hmm?" he asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Do you like it when I play with your pussy like this?"
"Yes, yes," you moaned, your body trembling. "It feels so good, baby."
With his other hand, Charles began to tease your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers. You moaned, distracted by the dual stimulation, your mind hazy with pleasure. Just as he allowed your orgasm to build again, he suddenly removed his fingers from your pussy.
Before you could process the loss, the sharp pain of his hand landing directly on your puffy clit made you cry out. The stinging slap ruined the building orgasm, tearing you away from the edge brutally. You trembled in his hold while he gripped onto your thighs, holding them open while you desperately wanted to clench them together.
"Don't hide it from me, what did I say? It belongs to me." Charles words were punctuated with another slap to your sensitive clit.
You gasped, the sharp pain mingling with a strange pleasure. He didn't give you time to recover before his hand came down again, and again, each one aimed at different points. Your hips bucked, trying to escape the onslaught, but his grip on your thigh was unyielding.
To your surprise, the slaps began to bring a different kind of pleasure to your body, one you didn't know you would like. But Charles knew your body better than you did. Each sharp sting sent electric jolts through you, mingling pain with a deep, intense pleasure that had you trembling in his hold.
This time, the growing release felt different, an intense pressure building in your core as if you were going to squirt. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body quivering with anticipation and need. But once again, Charles knew your telltale signs.
Just as you were on the brink, he brought his hand down one last time, the slap harder than before. He then cupped your pussy, the constant pleasure turning into stable pressure on your pussy making you squirm.
"Charles," you whimpered, your tone raw and desperate.
"Shh, mon cœur," he soothed, his hand holding firm against your swollen, sensitive flesh. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of mockery. "You almost got off just from me slapping your pretty pussy. You're such a little slut aren't you?"
You moaned, the mix of his degrading words and the pressure on your clit sending conflicting sensations through your body. "Yes, Charles," you breathed, the admission making your cheeks flush with shame and arousal.
He chuckled darkly, his fingers teasing your folds. "I knew you were desperate, but this? Getting off on a few slaps? I knew you'd enjoy it, such a dirty little thing, always craving more."
His words made you shiver, your body reacting despite your attempts to hold back. "You're my slut, aren't you?" he asked, pressing lingering kisses down your neck.
"Yes," you replied, the heat in your core intensifying with each degrading word. "I'm your slut, Charles."
He smirked, his palm still applying firm pressure to your clit. "You'll do anything to cum, won't you?" he taunted. "But you don't deserve it, not yet."
You squirmed against him, the ache between your legs growing unbearable. "Please," you begged, "please, baby."
He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "No, mon cœur. You haven't earned it, you'll have to wait." He lifted his palm, fingers grazing your clit lightly, and the brief contact sent a jolt through you.
"Look at you, so wet and needy," he said, his tone almost pitying. "You can't even think straight when you're this desperate, but that's what you like, isn't it? Being at my mercy, waiting for me to decide if you get to cum or not."
His words were a torment and a thrill, and you nodded, a fresh set of tears welling in your eyes. "Please," you whispered again, barely able to form the word.
"This is your punishment, mon amour," he stated firmly.
By the end, you were a trembling, moaning mess, completely at Charles' mercy. He pulled a his fingers away from you, leaving you panting and desperate. Slowly, he began buttoning up your shirt, scattering soft kisses on your cheeks and neck.
You felt a wave of confusion wash over you, your mind still hazy from the overwhelming sensations. Slowly you began to realize that he wasn't going to let you cum tonight, no matter how well you behaved. Desperation welled up inside of you, and you tried to form the words to convince him otherwise, but they came out a mumbling mess.
"Charles—please," you managed to speak, your voice shaky and broken. "I need to..."
"Shh, mon cœur," he interrupted, his tone soothing as he continued to button up your shirt. His fingers worked deftly, securing each button with care. "You've done so well tonight."
You whimpered, your body still humming with arousal but Charles' calm demeanour and gentle praise started to seep into your mind, soothing the frantic need. He gently turned you around in his grasp, making you face him. His lips brushed against your forehead, then your cheeks, placing light kisses to calm you down.
"You're such a good girl," he whispered between kisses, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Taking everything I give you, enduring it all for me."
Your protests turned into soft whimpers, your body slowly relaxing as he continued his tender ministrations. His hands moved with practiced ease, tracing patterns on your back while his voice wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.
"Just relax," he said softly, his lips grazing your ear. "You did so good today. If you keep behaving, maybe one day, I'll let you cum as many times as you want."
You sighed, the frustration replaced by a sense of acceptance settling over you. His lips pressed against yours in a tender kiss, sealing his promise. As the gaze of desire began to fade, you knew that despite the torment, you craved his touch, his control, and the sweet release only he could give.
Pulling away, you rested your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a calming rhythm that helped ease your racing thoughts. Charles continued to hold you close, his hands gently stroking your back as he whispered soothing words, promising that you'll be rewarded soon.
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snaileer · 1 year ago
Text
Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.
It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.
Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.
Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.
They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’
Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?
Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.
A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.
A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.
And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.
It was an eclectic collection of items.
And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.
Again, it was concerning.
So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.
After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.
Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.
Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.
It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.
All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.
Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.
Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.
When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.
“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”
Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.
Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.
“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”
The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”
Batman glares at him.
“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”
Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”
“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.
“Hn.”
Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.
They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.
The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.
The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.
“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”
Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”
The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.
“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.
“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.
Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”
The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.
“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”
Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.
Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.
Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.
She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….
‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’
She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-
Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.
Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.
She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.
White boots pass in front of her eyes.
She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.
As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.
She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.
Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.
““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”
The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.
The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.
“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“
The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.
“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀
The man whimpers under the claws.
"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔
There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.
All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.
The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.
On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.
As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.
Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.
Diana’s arm tingles.
Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.
Silence reigns in the room.
Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.
“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.
“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”
Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”
The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”
Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.
The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”
“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”
The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”
Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”
The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”
Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“
“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”
Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.
“Hn.”
“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.
Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.
The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.
Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.
A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.
Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.
The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.
“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”
Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.
3K notes · View notes
pupyuj · 11 days ago
Text
→ “cherry on top.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.
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— gifting your girlfriend a beautiful (and expensive) necklace was going to be the perfect way to end the last night of your winter getaway but with the necklace being forgotten all the way back to your shared apartment, wonyoung decides on the next best thing…
word count: 3.7k.
dynamic: dom!jang wonyoung x sub!actress!reader.
warnings: age gap, reader is older, lots of biting and marking, fingering, mommy kink, praise kink, hair pulling, reader being an actress doesn't really play a big part lol, wonyoung is down horrendous, wony is also lowkey into pain like whoa!
requested?: nope.
a/n: fun fact, i wanted to drop this fic around/on christmas but ofc, i didn’t have enough time so i just made it winter-themed instead 😭 i would have loved to actually drop something from my wip list that's actually been there for a while but since this ended up being a short one, i decided to go with it instead! i hope you guys like it though! i know it's not my best work ever BUT this will be a nice little step to get me back to my writing machine roots 😎😎
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“i really don’t know why i’m doing all of this. it’s really nothing special,” you shared a giggle with your girlfriend, wonyoung, as you guided her along the hallways. you made her wear your favorite sleeping mask to completely obscure her vision for the sole reason of surprising her with what you have spent quite a bit of time setting up earlier in the afternoon. wonyoung, despite her excitement, takes her next steps carefully. she didn’t want a stupid incident to take attention away from what you so obviously worked hard on. “but i think this is the best way to end our little trip.” you halted her steps, giving her a soft kiss from behind her shoulder and finally lifting up the mask.
wonyoung blinks several times to have her eyes adjust to the lights that illuminated the lodge. what she saw in the living room area was a humble picnic set up! soft sheets lay on the center of the room (wonyoung noticed that you pushed the coffee table aside for space) accompanied with a few pillows, a wicker basket filled with pasties, wine, and other snacks was sitting right beside it along with a bouquet of pink tulips, and right on the sheets was your laptop with Clueless more than ready to start playing.
“oh, unnie, this is wonderful!” wonyoung whips around and squeezes you for a tight hug. you returned the embrace with the same amount of love, even going as far as to giving a kiss to the side of her head. wonyoung proceeded on tugging you over at your little set-up and sat you down. one would think that you ended world hunger with the way her eyes shined as she stared at you. you tried to ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach—guilt. because as lovely as this was, this trip should not be ending like this. you had something far better planned! but you should have expected with the way you and wonyoung rushed to start the trip that you would forget the most important item that you would be gifting her—the prettiest diamond necklace that even made a successful and rich actress like yourself sweat with how expensive it was. 
but you weren’t going to tell wonyoung about the dent it made on your bank account, like ever. anyhow, you realized that you completely forgot about the necklace on the previous night. you weren’t able to sleep much since something in the back of your mind was screaming at you to check your bags and make sure everything was perfect for the next day and alas, the necklace was nowhere to be found! if wonyoung hadn’t been sleeping peacefully, you would have screamed out of pure frustration at yourself!
there was no use crying over spilt milk, however. and so, you spent the rest of that nearly-sleepless night thinking up of ways to end the trip on a good note even without the necklace. a cute indoor picnic was the idea you liked the most, and now that you’ve seen how much wonyoung appreciates it, perhaps the idea wasn’t too bad. the next problem to tackle was explaining all the trouble you went through to set this all up to wonyoung, but maybe that should be saved for until you’re both too buzzed to care about anything else.
“i hope you don’t think this is boring compared to everything we’ve been doing for the past week, love.” you said as you filled up two glasses with wonyoung’s favorite white wine. (upon noticing this, wonyoung couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. maybe it was painfully simple of her to fawn over the fact that you remembered her favorite drink because it was the bare minimum considering you’ve been dating for years now, but it is as they say: it’s the little things! so, do pardon wonyoung for falling in love with you just a little bit deeper.) a surprised sound escapes your lips when you feel your girlfriend pressing her lips on your jawline, but then you laugh at how her hair tickled your skin.
when wonyoung leaned back and saw that she left a faint kiss mark on your jawline, she let out a satisfied smile. “what do you mean? this is lovely, unnie.” wonyoung can’t even remember all the times she has wished for one relaxing day with you, so she was beyond thankful that she had a whole week of just that. with her being a bigger idol than ever and you jumping from project to project, naturally neither of you had too much time to be together recently. but at least you were luckier than most celebrity couples who can’t even see each other at all! mostly because of their management that just refuses to give them time together. you and wonyoung were blessed with family, friends, and teams that supported your relationship so both of you made sure to enjoy this little trip with everything it had to offer.
“well, between skiing, having lunch in an observation deck atop the mountain, seeing the northern lights, and a picnic with some movies, which one would be more appealing to you?” you asked, leaning back on the pillows. almost automatically, you wrapped a single arm around wonyoung’s waist and pulled her closer to you.
“anything’s good with me as long as i’m with you. how’s that?” wonyoung replies with a grin, knowing she successfully made you cringe in your seat.
you laughed, shaking your head. “ew. cornball.”
the next three hours were a blur. thanks to wonyoung who was clearly having the time of her life, the two bottles of wine were finished relatively quickly. she had begged you to get just one more bottle, using everything in her power to convince you from fluttering her eyelashes, pouting, kissing you, and whispering naughty promises in your ear. as much as you didn’t want to wake up with a hangover, you couldn’t resist wonyoung. especially when all you could see in her eyes every time you looked at her was love!
surprisingly enough, wonyoung was… quiet. when she gets drunk, she’s usually so chatty and giggly. laughing at everything and nothing, sometimes she even turns into a whole pervert! inappropriate comments and all! but tonight, it seems like being in your embrace, basking in your scent, and listening to your heartbeat as she lay her head on your chest was everything she needed to be content. you turn your head steadily towards her, careful not to startle her away from your warmth. her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed and gotten… heavier? was she asleep? well! that wasn’t how you expected your picnic night to go.
that is until you felt fingers sneak inside your hand-knit sweater, as well as plump lips pressed against your collarbone. a whimper accidentally escapes your lips at the cold sensation of wonyoung’s hand, and you can just tell that that was a sound you should not have allowed to come out of your mouth.
“you’re so sweet, (y/n)-unnie,” wonyoung was positively drunk! her cheeks were glaringly pink and a lazy smile spread across her face while she looked up at you from your shoulder. gods, she was adorable. but you didn’t have the time to revel in that fact when she suddenly straddles your lap, her long legs wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place. with nowhere to go, you were forced to look up at her this time. “planning this entire vacation behind my back, paying for everything and strongly refusing whenever i offered, giving me the best getaway of my life… why are you so perfect?”
“it’s what you deserve, wonyoung-ah.” your reply fell from your lips smoothly as if it was the only right answer to her question. and it really was.
wonyoung playfully rolled her eyes, “so do you. but i got distracted by how much thought you put into this entire vacation that i couldn’t think up of anything to make it up to you! except for one thing, of course…” you didn’t miss how wonyoung’s tongue swiftly brushed across her upper lip and how her smile now turned into something akin to a sly grin. her eyes spelled out her plan without needing the help of her words to which you adorably and pathetically blushed at upon realization.
“n-not everything is perfectly planned… i mean, this really wasn’t how i wanted to spend our last night here together! i was going to take you to the nearby town, have a candlelit dinner with the prettiest view of the frozen river and the snowy mountains, and… i was going to give you a—”
“—a necklace, right?” wonyoung cuts you off. (on the night you found out that the necklace was nowhere to be found, wonyoung was woken up by the sounds of your frustrated and heartbroken rants to one of your friends over the phone. you had no idea she heard everything. she made sure to hold you extra tight when you returned to bed in hopes of making you feel better. and naturally, it worked.)  you pouted as you nod your head, once again feeling sad about how careless you were on the day you both set off on your vacation.
“i couldn’t believe i forgot to grab it… and i didn’t realize that i never brought it with us until yesterday! so you can imagine the stress i was under this entire day while i tried to set this all up!” you sighed deeply after your little rant. you pulled wonyoung close, putting your head in her chest as she consoled you. she couldn’t hold her laughter due to the sheer amount of cuteness aggression she was feeling over your whining, but she made sure to pat your back and kiss the top of your head.
“that explains why you abruptly left me by myself in the skating rink this afternoon! and why you came back all disheveled and out of breath! oh, unnie…” wonyoung only laughs harder when you tighten your hold around her waist—you were clearly embarrassed by your antics from earlier, but wonyoung thinks it’s so cute. you were older and wiser than her, but there are days where your childish and adorable side slips out and wonyoung thinks it’s so, so charming. and the way you don’t realize it makes it all ten times better. makes you ten times more… desirable. irresistible.
wonyoung starts to kiss you from your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your jawline… until she finally reaches your neck where she liked to just take you in and relish at how you shuddered at her actions, “necklace or not, the night would have ended up exactly the same… you did all this for me, and i would love to do things for you in return. many things.” you don’t realize that she reached behind you and undid the perfect ribbons she herself tied up for you. not until you felt her fingers drag across your now exposed skin while simultaneously giving your neck the softest kisses you’ve ever received.
“will you let me?”
she didn’t even need to ask. and she didn’t need to hear an answer from you. kissing her with never-before-seen passion was enough of a confirmation from you. wonyoung appreciates how you always allowed her to have control whenever things escalated. both of you knew you were too clueless about all this, but fortunately wonyoung wasn’t.
and thank heavens for that.
wonyoung tugs gently on your hair with one hand and holds your jaw tightly with the other, deepening the kiss, practically shoving her tongue inside your mouth and establishing dominance early on just because she so loves feeling the moment you submit to her. it happens when your shoulders relax, your hands fall on her thighs, and your hips desperately grind towards hers to quench your thirst. it’s a massive ego boost and if it wasn’t for you, wonyoung would feed on it until it consumed her… but she doesn’t allow that to happen. not anymore.
you deserve the utmost care and love and that was what she wanted to give you. what she will give you.
“mmhn.. wonyoung…” who would’ve thought that the brilliant young actress that the entire nation adores for her kind heart, bright-as-the-stars smile and unrivaled poise would elicit such sounds for a lover? but then again, jang wonyoung is not just any lover, is she?
wonyoung pulls your top over your head and tosses it elsewhere. she refused to believe that it was the wine that made you look a thousand times more delectable than usual, but rather, she accepted that you were just that stunning. with your hair unkempt in the most perfect way, your lip tint a mess on your face, chest heaving up and down, eyes clouded with longing… and the cherry on top? seeing that you were wearing the bra that wonyoung got you a few months back.
the younger girl bites her bottom lip at the sight, “please, have some patience.” whether wonyoung said that to you or to her very own hunger for you was unclear. she repositions herself so that she was now on all fours, her lips attached to yours once again but now… you had her hands on her. you wanted to feel her skin on yours, but wonyoung had plans of her own. she ignores your needy whines and your desperate attempts to undress her with great difficulty and continues on making a mess of your mind using her lips alone.
eventually, you were sitting on the couch while wonyoung was on her knees in front of you. your bra had been cast aside as well, leaving you fully topless. what a sight to behold, really. wonyoung spots a faint hickey on your collarbone, the one that she remembers putting there herself when she couldn’t help it after you both arrived at the lodge. there was another one on your shoulder which looked a lot more recent—that was from when she dragged you into the shower with her two days ago, and she was particularly proud of that one too!
you held wonyoung’s stare as her hand traveled slowly from your chest to your stomach. she was teasing you. enticing you to make a desperate action just so she can shut it down and hear you beg… but you know her game, and you don’t feel like playing it this time. besides, she asked you to ‘have some patience’! you weren’t one to disobey when she asked so nicely.
lifting your hips, wonyoung successfully got your shorts off of you and left them to fall at your ankles. “aww, you’re all ready for me.” wonyoung said smugly, staring at the wet spot on your underwear. add that to the list of things wonyoung finds so adorable about you; you can get riled up so easily, it’s sometimes unbelievable. and yet, you were never too needy and would rather wait for wonyoung to initiate something. she almost hated how patient you can really be, but hey, she was the one who asked for it!
“a-are you sure we should be doing this without closing the c-curtains—i mean, what if someone… some…” your words trail off, having been distracted with the way wonyoung gently presses her fingertips against your clothed clit and rubs very slow circles on it. and all of a sudden you didn’t care anymore. the mild shrubbery in front of the lodge was enough of a cover, you suppose.
“hm? what was that, unnie?”
“nothing.. noth—ah!” you squeak after wonyoung unexpectedly pressed hard on your clit, but cover your mouth immediately. but it’s not like anyone would hear, anyway. all of the other lodges are quite a distance away and you would have to be screaming for them to hear you and that, wonyoung feels, is quite timely because that was exactly what she wanted to do. as if it wasn’t obvious already, wonyoung has been a lot more head-over-heels for you than usual. she truly believes that she was falling in love with you all over again and the last time that happened, wonyoung had to run after you as you were leaving an event just to tell you about all about the feelings she has had for you. of course, that led to the wonderful relationship you have now… but just what else can wonyoung do this time?
“come here.” she pulls you in for a kiss. it was softer this time but it wasn’t any less passionate than the last. it almost felt like a reminder that even though her heart was on fire, wonyoung will still take care of you and you know what? that was basically the only reassurance that you needed to completely submit.
soon enough, your panties joined the pile of your clothes on the ground. wonyoung had started attacking your neck, her lips latching onto every inch of your skin and leaving lovely red marks in her wake. you’d tell her to be careful not to make them too red, or not to leave too much if it didn’t feel so good, if the way wonyoung’s fingers wasn’t so distracting with just how much she was teasing you. oh, to hell with it—you start grinding against her hand, paying no mind to how wonyoung couldn’t help but break into a smile while she worked her lips down to your chest. she wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as you can be to her before catching one of your nipples in her mouth.
your hands dig through wonyoung’s beautiful hair while your moans fill the warm, empty air. it was getting harder and harder to pay attention to anything at this point. all you can hear was wonyoung’s soft moans and heavy breathing, and it reminded you of how much you would have loved to switch roles and please her yourself, but wonyoung was sweet enough to take charge and you need this. “mmn… mommy, open up for me… please?” the younger girl whispered against your skin. you lift one leg up, giving wonyoung all the access she wanted and more. 
you leaned further back on the cushions of the couch as wonyoung inserted two fingers inside you. she was slow, careful. she always gave you chances to back out if you didn’t feel comfortable enough to do any of this with her. and once she knew that you truly wanted this, she allowed herself to relax and start her work. although, her steady pace didn’t last long—each second that passed, she only thrusted faster, wanting to hear you moan over and over again. she kept glancing up from your chest, looking at your expressions and smiling to herself while she alternated between sucking on your tits and leaving marks all over them. not having had enough of it all, you started rocking your hips towards the younger girl’s hand, desperately chasing after even more pleasure.
occasionally, wonyoung would wince at how hard you tugged at her hair. she knows you don’t do it on purpose and she does like it, plus it gives her reason to, say, ‘get back at you’ by biting your skin and making you wince. and it was when she bit on your collarbone that you moaned her name wonderfully. pride surges within wonyoung. more, she wanted, and faster she went. her fingers reached deeper than they ever have before and out of your mouth came sounds wonyoung was hearing for the first time, so she kept it up.
“tell me,” wonyoung says. you hear her, but you don’t respond. “am i doing goo—mmpf!” you silenced wonyoung by quickly pulling her hair and crashing your lips together. your free hand clutches on her shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into the skin exposed by her off-shoulder blouse.
“yes…! hmnn… you’re being so good, love…” you answered as your lips briefly parted hers. wonyoung, overwhelmed by adrenaline, moans at the praise. she was soaking wet herself; her core ached for attention and your praises, your lips, and your tightness wasn’t making anything easy for her. but oh, sweet and selfless wonyoung wouldn’t stop pleasing you just as you’re about to reach your climax just so she can get off instead. she hides her face on the crook of your neck, now stimulating your clit with her thumb and driving you into a frenzy.
“i love you so much, unnie… i’ll make it up to you properly later on but—hah… but for now,” wonyoung releases your waist from her hold and places her hand behind your other thigh before pushing your leg back. “cum for me.” she mutters right against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine before you succumb and the knot in your stomach breaks. wonyoung held you as you came, trying her very hardest not to cum with you because not only will that be embarrassing but also because surely you would tease her for cumming untouched!
wonyoung pulled her fingers out of you once you were calm again. you smile at her as you didn’t have the energy to speak just yet… nor did you have the energy to do anything else at all. while wonyoung was busy cleaning up her fingers (using her mouth, naturally), you just so happened to notice that she had her legs closed a bit too tightly, and her face was flushed way beyond normal. and then, you knew. your poor, darling angel needed you too!
you went on to move yourself back down on the mattress on the floor, then, you took a hold of wonyoung’s sleeve and pulled her down with you as you lay yourself down on your back. wonyoung was confused, albeit being totally into whatever you were planning. it was when you slid a leg in between her thighs and pressed it against her throbbing core that she knew. and oh, was she ready. 
you tucked wonyoung’s hair behind her ear, and warmth blooms inside your chest when she smiles at you, “let’s make this night last, wonyoung-ah.” you mumbled as you placed a soft kiss on her nose.
“whatever you want, my love.”
well, turns out you really didn’t need that necklace, after all.
558 notes · View notes
bookyeom · 7 months ago
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to care for you — lc
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pairing: dino x reader word count: 4.4k warnings: mention of blood and injuries, mention of fainting, swearing, hurt and comfort, kissing request prompt: Okay so tumblr ate my ask 😭 but this is in response to @darkypooo’s request for Dino + “do you want to kiss?” “Yeah.”
Author’s Note: Yes, this is a Spiderman AU — but you don’t need to know much other than the bare minimum about the Spiderman universe to understand the story :) It’s set in college instead of high school, though. I’m actually so, so proud of this one, and I hope you like it!
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Thanks so much for all the support on my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I’m doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!
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He‘s exhausted. 
It’s an exhaustion that’s begun to seep deep into his bones lately, but it feels extra heavy tonight. After a not-so-brief brush-up with some bad guys, he’s hurting in places that he didn’t know existed — even after all of his years spent studying science. He can’t remember the last time he got this hurt — to the point where even breathing is hard. All he wants to do right now is give up. He’s not sure what good he’s doing out there, anyway.
He’s exhausted, and he’s hurting all over, and honestly? All he wants to do is see you. 
He feels like that a lot these days.
He knows he’s not supposed to want you like he does, to need you like he does — for so many reasons. First and foremost, because you’re one of his closest friends — his confidante (in everything not Spiderman related, anyway), his safe place. You’re his friend, and friends aren’t supposed to love each other the way he loves you. Besides, he’s Spiderman. He’s not supposed to need anyone at all. In this line of business, feelings are a weakness.
You, thankfully, have no clue about his alter ego… or his feelings.
Well, at least you didn’t know about the superhero part. Until now, when he drags himself into his room and you’re there, curled up in his bed. He thinks he must be hallucinating. He’s too out of it to really register it at first, but then your eyes meet his from where you’re sitting up against his headboard, duvet pulled up to your chin, and he’s frozen. You blink back at him in the dim light of his room, your face lit up solely by the lamp on his bedside table.
“Chan?”
Your voice is small — so quiet that he thinks without his heightened senses he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He can’t think straight enough to really process that his mask is off — he must have dropped it somewhere between the living room and here. All he can register before he’s stumbled back and slumped into his desk chair, eyes screwed shut from all the pain, is that you don’t look nearly as scared as he thought you would. Then everything goes black.
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There’s a warm pressure against his jaw and his cheeks. 
He slowly comes to as he registers the feeling, struggling to open his eyes and find the source of the sensation. He can hear a faint voice call his name, once, twice, and when his eyes finally manage to flutter open just a little, he’s met with your concerned gaze.
“Fuck. Hi,” you mumble, and he blinks. The pure worry in your voice helps to bring him back to earth a little bit more, and he tries desperately to clear his head. How long was he out?
“Why…” He tries to speak but fails, his voice weak and his throat hoarse. 
Why are you here? 
He sees you wince when he tries to move, to shift into a more comfortable position even though he knows nothing will be comfortable right now, and your head is suddenly shaking back and forth so fast that it almost gives him whiplash.
“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he dazedly wonders why you don’t sound mad. Or frustrated. Or anything but concerned, really. He’s confused, his mind swirling even more as he tries to understand why your hands are holding his face like that. Hadn’t he kept things a secret from you for far too long to warrant your concern? Don’t you hate him now?
“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say, and Chan fights the urge to try and speak again, to blurt out everything that he’s wanted to tell you since he met you. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you hastily continue, “but you have to tell me how to help you, Chan.”
His eyes flutter shut once more at the sound of his name coming from your lips, and he feels your thumb brush against his jaw. 
“Chan,” you say again, and you sound more panicked this time, so he does his best to calm you down. 
“Off.”
You blink at him again as he finally speaks. You’re not sure what he means, and you’re desperate to know, because you can’t look at him in pain like this any longer without doing something to help.
“Off,” he repeats hoarsely, and your eyes widen as you hastily remove your hands from his face.
“Shit, sorry!” Your eyes frantically wander across his face, searching for any damage your fingers might have caused. “I don’t know where you’re hurting, I didn’t mean to—“
As you babble on, all he can do is shake his head minutely. That’s not what he meant. The last thing he wanted right now was for you to take your hands off of him. He manages to lift a hand to press gently against his side, where a dark stain has formed. He glances down at where the material is clinging to his skin before looking back up at you. 
“Oh!” You reply, realization dawning on your face. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks. “Can you stand up to move to the bed so I can help? If not, I can—“
Already, he’s attempting to move, desperate to make any of this easier for you. He wants to apologize, to say he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know exactly what for. For not telling you? For you having to see him like this? 
You help him stand, his arm reaching to rest on your shoulders as you do. You can tell he’s trying not to hurt you with his weight, and you almost laugh — how very Chan of him. You’re grateful that in the shock of survival mode, you’ve managed to avoid for now the way you know your heart is going to break when you register seeing soft, kind, selfless Chan beaten down like this. 
Cry tomorrow, is the message your brain is sending. Figure it out tomorrow. Right now, you need to help him.
“I’m strong,” you try to joke, though it’s a weak attempt, and Chan looks at you in confusion. “You can put your weight on me,” you elaborate quietly. He understands and gives you a sheepish smile, before doing as told, though you know he doesn’t want to. 
The two of you maneuver the few steps to the edge of his bed. Chan hisses involuntarily at the pain as he sits down, and you whisper soft apologies, though he has no idea why. Once he’s down, you immediately get to work, reaching behind him to find the zipper at the top of his suit. You manage to get it down as smoothly as possible, your eyes falling to where Chan is still clutching at his side.
“This part is going to hurt like a bitch,” you tell him softly.
“That’s okay,” he says. “It always does.”
You freeze for a moment from where you were about to begin to slide the suit off of his shoulders, but Chan doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said. You feel a sharp pain in your chest as his words replay, and you blink back tears, taking a moment to steel yourself. 
It always hurts.
You don’t respond, your fingers beginning to move again, and you’re surprised that they’re not shaking. Chan shivers when your fingers brush against his skin as you begin to slide the suit over his arms and off. You ease him out of the material on his uninjured side first, before coming around to the front of him and crouching down. You meet his eyes, his brown ones clouded over with pain, and your fingers gently reach to rest on top of his hand that’s still clutching his side. You give it a squeeze and he nods in understanding, closing his eyes tight, and you help him remove his fingers from the wound. You stand back up, and begin to pull the rest of the suit down his side and to his waist. Chan barely lets out so much as a whimper when you peel the rest of the material off of him. 
His lack of reaction is not what surprises you the most, though. The biggest surprise comes when you reach the spot on his side where you know a sickening amount of blood should be, and you find that it’s all dried — and that the wound has already begun to heal over. 
Huh?
Your brain can’t compute it. You glance up at him in complete confusion, but his head is hung low, and your heart breaks enough to distract you from all of the questions you want to ask. You force yourself to push the confusing mess of thoughts away until later. You can’t think about any of that right now. You can’t. 
“Chan?” Is what you say instead, knowing that you need to keep him awake enough to help him clean up, long enough to know he’s alright. Your hands are on his knees as you kneel between his legs and peer up at him. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to trace the newly-forming scars on his chest and arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss each mark and its associated pain away. You desperately want to know what happened, who hurt him like this, but you’re not sure you can handle it. You briefly register the older, faded scars that mark his skin, unsure of where they end and the new ones begin. 
You can’t figure it out — in front of you sits Chan, but it can’t be the Chan you know. It can’t be the one who giggles at your stupid jokes or falls asleep in your 8am lectures, or the one who remembers your coffee order every single time. The one who you swore had never fought with anyone in his life. The Chan in front of you looks so broken that you can’t put the two of them together. 
“You… okay?”
Your eyes shoot up to meet his again as he speaks, voice cracking and hoarse. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest as he attempts to look down at you, his eyes hooded over and half closed with the effort. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and still, he’s asking if you’re okay.
You’re hit so hard with sudden emotion that it causes you to inhale sharply without warning. Your hand lifts involuntarily to brush his hair back from where it’s falling into his eyes, and as he continues to try and hold your gaze, you register it all. This Chan is still your Chan. It’s the same Chan that has stirred feelings inside your chest that you were certain you could never feel again. The Chan whose intelligence and kindness still astounds you every single day. This Chan and your Chan are the same.
Your head spins.
When you finally make it to the bathroom, it’s all Chan can do to slouch down onto his bathroom floor. You help him out of the rest of his suit before crouching down beside him, wracking your brain for everything you’ve ever learned about cleaning wounds. You remain numb as he gives you single-word answers to where things are in his bathroom. It’s funny — you’ve been in his apartment so many times, but you’ve never needed to know where the antiseptic was. 
Chan’s eyes remain half-open as you work. He’s fighting with all his might, you can tell, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. You don’t think his gaze leaves you even once. It becomes monotonous: you clean the cut, he winces, you apologize. And repeat. Your mind wanders in what you’re sure is an attempt to protect yourself.
You’d come over tonight for your weekly movie night, letting yourself in with the code you’d long since been given access to. When hours had passed with no sign of Chan and no texts from him either, your heart had broken a little — had he forgotten? Was he okay? It was so unlike him that you’d stayed just in case, your heart racing with every little noise as you waited. 
You hate so much that your worst fears had come true.
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Chan’s pain seems to ease in record time, bruises forming on his skin faster than you’ve ever seen. You have so many questions, but you push it all down, down, down. He falls asleep on his couch and you stay up all night, blanket pulled around your shoulders as you sit on the windowsill and make sure he’s still breathing. 
He wakes as the sun is beginning to rise, and you watch as he shifts to sit up, letting out a breath of what sounds like relief when he’s able to move without much trouble. Some of the cuts on his face and chest are already scabbed over. 
How?
When his eyes finally land on you, he jumps a little.
“Hi.”
”You didn’t sleep.”
It’s an observation rather than a question. You pull your knees up and rest your chin on them. “I was worried.”
It’s quiet, and he doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you.
“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“Yeah.” Your voice is small, and he immediately feels guilty.
“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he expects you to do, what he expects you to say. You level him with your gaze, searching his face. Your eyes linger on the scabbed-over cut just above his brow, and you bite your lip before you speak again.
“It was…” You can feel your lower lip start to tremble in an act of betrayal, and you bite down on it to try and stop yourself from crying. “It was terrifying to see you like that, Chan,” you finally manage, and you know that after all these hours, the dam is about to break. You can tell he knows it, too, by the way his brows furrow even more, and his eyes widen just slightly.
“I know,” he murmurs, and that’s what does it.
Your hands move to cover your face as you finally let yourself cry, sobs muffled by your palms. You can hear the couch creak as Chan moves, and you can feel his presence as soon as he’s close. He whispers your name once, his voice breaking, and when he moves your hands away from your face, you don’t have the strength to stop him. He’s sitting next to you on the windowsill now. You sniffle, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Chan holds onto your wrists, rubbing gentle circles against the skin. 
“I’m so mad at you,” you finally say, and he lets go of your hands. He doesn’t retreat to his side of the window though, staying put as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks down.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” he says, voice quiet. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t… but you still have every right to be pissed at me.”
It’s silent, and you stare at him in disbelief. There are so many thoughts running through your head, and it takes you a moment to settle on just one. “You think I’m mad because you didn’t tell me that you were Spiderman?” You finally say, causing him to look at you again in surprise.
“I mean, yeah? Why else—“
“I’m mad,” you emphasize, “because you’re out there getting hurt, and my heart literally can’t take the thought of that, oh my god, Chan.” Your voice breaks, and fuck, you’re about to cry again, but you can’t stop. Your eyes trace over his face, pausing where the bruise is starting to form on his cheek, and you feel frustration begin to build again as you angrily blink back tears. “What the fuck, Chan. Why the hell are you… I mean, if I hadn’t been able to help you last night, I wouldn’t — I just, I can’t even imagine—“
Your words are cut off as Chan’s hands find the side of your face. His gaze is firm as he looks at you, and his sudden boldness catches you off guard, your words dying in your throat. Once he seems to realize that you’re not going to run, his thumb moves to caress your jaw, and you can’t help the shiver that spreads through you at the gentle touch. Your hands lift to rest on his arms where they’re holding you, and you’re speechless, your eyes unable to leave his. He takes in a deep breath, and you follow.
“I’m here,” he says, and you draw in another shaky breath. You don’t think he’s ever been this forward with you before, but you’re grateful for it. He’s warm, and he’s here. He’s alive.You’re torn between wanting to never leave his side again, and needing desperately to be away from him so that you can think.
“I think it might be good for me to go now that I know you’re okay,” you say softly after a moment, and you can see the hurt that briefly shadows his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, though, and he nods, removing his hands from your face. 
“I understand.”
“And I… I probably need some time.”
He nods again, and your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, but you have to. For now. Your feet feel leaden as you get up, going through the motions as you grab your backpack from the hook by his door. You barely register putting on your shoes, your mind on autopilot until it’s broken by his voice from just behind you.
“Y/N?”
Your name coming from his lips feels like a punch to the gut, and you almost reach out for him again, but you hold firm.
”Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. Can you just…” he sucks in a breath. “Can you please not tell anyone? About, you know—”
His words hit like a ton of bricks. You cut him off, expression full of silent fury at the insinuation. “Yeah. I won’t.” 
You’re pissed that he even had to ask, and he knows it, but there’s nothing else he can do. His secret is more important than anything — he just wishes it didn’t have to be more important than you. 
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It takes three days for you to end up back at his door. He’s missed all of your shared college courses so far this week, and you’re worried. You’re terrified, actually, and you need to see him.
When he opens the door, you do a double take. It’s almost like nothing happened to him at all. The bruises and cuts are barely-there, and you’re reminded of the miles-long list of questions you have stored in the back of your brain. He’s surprised to see you, you can tell, and he blinks slowly before stepping aside to let you in.
“How are you?” You level him with raised eyebrows as you take off your shoes, and he nods, biting his lip. “Yeah, I know. I was worried that—“
“I didn’t tell anyone,” you interrupt. “Don’t worry.” You look down, your heart twisting painfully in your chest when you remember the words he’d said to you. ‘Can you please not tell anyone?’ You cross your arms as you head over to the living room, but you don’t sit down. You don’t really know what your plan had been — you’d just needed to see him. 
“Oh,” comes his soft reply before he adds, “I mean… I didn’t really think that you would.”
Your eyes briefly meet his across the room, confused, before you recover and look back down at the floor. “So then what were you worried about?”
You can feel his gaze intent on your face. “You.”
Your breath catches and your eyes swiftly meet his again. You blink. “Me?”
“Yeah.”
“Chan,” you say after a moment, trying to push down the bubble of irritation you feel building in your chest. “You didn’t even text me once.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he says quietly, “You said that you needed time.”
“To process, yes! But you didn’t even text me that you were okay. I was worried about you, Chan. Why would you be worried about me? I’m not the one coming through your window and fainting from injury, now am I?”
You can see the guilt flicker across his face. “I know,” he says, and then he suddenly feels the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t message you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He pauses. “Ever again, maybe.”
You can hear the sadness in his voice, and your heart breaks. You feel the anger in you start to dissipate as he looks away from you. Your eyes catch on the barely-there faded scar across his eyebrow, and your mind is filled with painful memories of the Chan you’d seen that night. 
“You’re so fucking stupid, Chan.” 
He knows. But judging by the way you sit down on his couch instead of storming out again, he thinks that somehow, his stupidity has already been forgiven. 
It’s quiet as he joins you. You can feel him looking at you, and when you can’t take it anymore, you look back at him pointedly. He blushes, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. You sigh, your head falling into the back of the couch before you turn and curl up against it, your eyes drifting shut. 
"Is that my sweater?" 
Your eyes shoot open, and it's as if he's finally grown the courage to look at you directly again now. His brown eyes search yours, and he motions to the shirt you're wearing. You look down — even though you know he's right — and your cheeks are on fire. You’re wearing the sweater he’d leant you forever ago on a cold night for your walk home — the one you’d never returned. You slept in it almost every night, and he hadn’t asked for it back. 
"Keeps me warm," you mumble, tugging on the hem. It's silent for a beat before you continue, voice even quieter than before. You pause, ruminating on your next words before you take a deep breath and say, “The last few nights, wearing it kind of made me feel like you were safe.”
You can hear his intake of breath before he says, soft, “Are you mad at me?”
You shake your head, because you’re not. You’re scared, stressed, worried sick — but you’re not mad. Not anymore. “No, Chan.”
The nickname sends a flood of relief through him more than your actual reply does. 
“I’m not mad,” you continue, “because of course you’re Spiderman. Of course you’re putting yourself in danger trying to protect others. I love how selfless you are, Lee Chan — I always have. But me? I’m selfish. And I’m scared to death of losing you.”
All he says, all he can say, is, “I’m scared, too.”
You look at him again now. You search his face as you ask, “Of what?”
“Of getting hurt. Of… of losing you, too.”
Your heart is suddenly beating so fast you think it might soon break free from your rib cage. You don’t know why you say it, because you’ve already got his undivided attention, but his name comes out breathlessly anyway. “Chan?” 
“Yeah?” He’s looking at you with those beautiful, big, questioning eyes, and you can’t help it. 
“I think it might be a terrible time for me to say this,” you blurt out, “but I — Chan, I’m in love with you.”
Silence.
Chan blinks.
“Wait, what?”
Your face flushes, and it’s your turn to look away. “Sorry,” you murmur.
“No, don’t — oh my god. What?”
You’re not sure what he wants from you. You’re embarrassed now, pulling your knees up to your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from your feelings. Your face is flushed as you turn to look out the window, and you can almost hear Chan’s brain buffering as he remains silent.
“Do you mean that?”
“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you intend it to, but you don’t take it back. 
“I…” He trails off. He doesn’t say anything more, and the quiet is almost deafening. You’re finding it a little harder to breathe as the seconds pass, and you wrack your brain for something, anything to say to fill the stifling silence.  
“I’m going to go,” is what comes out, and then you’re standing up so abruptly that you feel a little dizzy. The scene is familiar — you, running from what you’re feeling, running from him. 
“Wait,” he blurts out, and you do. You pause in spite of everything in you that’s begging you to run, and then he says, “Can I… I mean, do you want to… kiss?”
You turn back, eyes wide. It’s such a ridiculous question, such an innocent thing for him to ask in light of everything that’s happened in the last few days — but it’s so Chan that you almost forget about it all. This is probably a bad idea, you both know that — and you don’t care. You don’t know how this is going to work, but you’ll figure it out. 
Because it’s your Chan — the one who cares so much, the one who gives you hope, the one who wants nothing but for the world to be a better place.
“I mean — I love you too,” he says into the silence, and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.
“Yes,” you breathe out before he can panic. “Fuck. I have so many questions, but first, yes. Yes, I want to kiss you, Lee Chan.”
You can hardly believe the giggle and shy smile he sends your way before he kisses you breathless. 
Yeah, you think to yourself as he pulls back, as your fingers lift to gently trace the barely-there bruise on his cheek, as he leans into the warmth of your hand. As you think about how he’s been doing all of this — trying to change the world — alone.
Yeah, you think. You’ll figure it out. 
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TAGLIST: @waldau @minisugakoobies @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @wqnwoos @wheeboo @christinewithluv @lvlystars @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol @bewoyewo @kyeomkyeomi @mingyuscoffee @harry-the-pottypus @lightprincess-world @icyminghao @bella-l @darkypooo
1K notes · View notes
stevesgother · 1 month ago
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From Now On (Our Troubles Will Be Miles Away) I S.H
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Pairing - Dad!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader
WC - 1.5k
Summary - enjoy some christmas stevie with your toddler, and a special announcement… <3
AN - oops! It appears i can’t stop writing steve as a father. y’all can thank mady @skeltn for that one. 
With love- Emma
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The soft, staticky sounds of Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ emanate from the thrifted record player in the living room; drifting into the kitchen where you’re rolling cookie dough and wincing as your toddler tries to ‘help’ by adding way too much food coloring into the bowls of frosting.
Over the sounds of nostalgic Christmas tunes, you hear a small crash and the cursing of your husband as he attempts to wrap your eight foot tree in garland.
“You okay, honey?” You shout from where you stand at the counter.
A pause, “Yeah, I’m just–ugh these fuc–”
“Steve!--”
“Fudging lights–” he corrects, “they’re all tangled. I’ve been working at them for, like, twenty minutes,”
“Let me get these cookies in the oven, Ellie and I will come help,” you call back.
More grumbling can be heard echoing from the other room as your daughter, Eleanor, is rummaging through your small container of cookie cutters, eventually giving up and deciding that it would simply be easier to dump all of them out onto the floor.
Her pudgy little hands grab one that's shaped like santa in a sleigh as she declares,
 “I do this one,”
“Do you want mommy’s help or do you got it by yourself?”
She doesn’t respond but clumsily presses the stencil into the floured dough. It comes out a little wonky, but you don’t mind, you aren’t going for perfection. Steve will have eaten them all within the next few hours, anyway.
Speak of the devil, “How are my girls doin’?” he saunters over to you, slightly sweaty from the exertion of decorating the tree and presses a kiss to both yours and Ellie’s cheeks.
When he sees Eleanor’s handiwork, he gasps, “Ellie, baby, these are beautiful!” He fawns over the barely recognizable shapes on the baking sheet like they’re the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen in his whole life.
Ellie can tell he’s pleased with her and starts to giggle with her sticky hands over her mouth. You wisely chose a recipe that didn’t call for eggs, knowing your three-year-old was bound to ingest the raw dough at some point during the process.
Now that Steve’s in the room though, she conveniently decides she’s done helping and motions with her arms for her dad to pick her up. He does so without hesitation, even though she’s covered in frosting and flour, easily lifting her from where she stands in just an oversized tee on a step ladder against the cabinets.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up, huh? Give mommy a break,” he looks pleadingly to you, “Can you please try to untangle the lights while I’m gone?” And how could you say no when he looks so pretty and asks so nicely?
◞◟·̩͙  ͜  ˳꣑୧ ͜  ◞◟·̩͙◟
By the time you’re finally done unraveling and applying a mess of sparkly bulbs and shiny tinsel to your Christmas tree, Ellie comes barreling out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around her and Steve hot on her tail. Miniature wet footprints mark a path from the bathroom door all the way to the couch, and it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out who the culprit is.
“Eleanor Rose!” He yells through gritted teeth, solely because he’s fighting a smile.
You laugh boisterously as you watch your grown husband chase after a toddler in an uncomfortable crouched position that looks ridiculous displayed on someone his size. It’s a sight for sore eyes.
“Hey! It’s not funny!” Now his feigned frustration is directed towards you, “Are you just gonna stand there and laugh or are you gonna help me catch this gremlin?!”
As it turns out, he doesn’t need help after all. When Ellie reaches the couch, she realizes she has nowhere left to turn and succumbs to a fit of giggles on the fluffy cushions. She’s red in the face and certainly not dry, but you can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed. Your couch might be a little soggy, your floor might be a little slippery, and Steve might be absolutely exhausted, but you don’t dare dream of your life looking any differently than this.
Steve’s playing Tickle Monster with Ellie when you realize she still needs her pajamas on.
“You wanna get her dressed or shall I?” You ask him over your daughter’s squealing.
“Oh, take her, please,” you can tell he’s teasing though. If you really wanted, Steve would let you lounge in your bathrobe all day– reading Cosmos and drinking iced tea while he took care of Ellie. He’s in his element when he’s spending time with her. Even when you were just silly teenagers in love, you’d never seen him so fulfilled as he is now.
That sentiment is the only reason why you don’t feel wracked with nerves over the news you’re about to deliver him.
◞◟·̩͙  ͜  ˳꣑୧ ͜  ◞◟·̩͙◟
Steve’s putting the last of the ornaments on the tree when Ellie reappears from her bedroom with a huge smile plastered to her face. She careens into his shins and he stumbles a little with the unexpected force.
“Hi, peanut!” He grunts a little when he picks her up. You follow suit, wearing the matching pajamas Steve had picked out at Sears for everyone last weekend.
“Did you get your jammies–?” His eyebrows knit together, puzzled, as he realizes he doesn’t recognize the top she has on as the one he bought for you all to wear tonight.
“Babe, why didn’t you put her in the–”
It's then that he catches the words printed on shirt in bold, pink letters,
‘Big Sister.’
Once the initial confusion passes, his eyes immediately well with tears and his features soften like butter.
“What? He asks in that quiet, wobbly voice you’d only ever heard him use a handful of times.
“Surprise,” you respond timidly with your hands out in an almost-shrug.
He sets Eleanor down as gently as he can while also rushing to your side. He embraces you so tight it nearly knocks the wind out of you. When he lets up, he still doesn’t let you go far as he cups your face in both of his warm hands.
“How long have you known?”
“A week or so,” you shrug.
“Baby, I can’t believe this!” his quiet, shocked demeanor quickly morphs into something more like excited giddiness and he’s practically jumping up and down now.
“Oh my God!” He picks Ellie up and swings her around by her armpits before smacking kisses all over her tiny face. You know she’s still a bit too young to properly comprehend the gravity of the announcement, but she’s just so happy because her dad’s so happy.
“Ellie Bear! Mommy’s having a baby!” He holds her by her torso and gives her a light shake, she just throws her head back and laughs, not a clue what’s got him so worked up. With her belly exposed, he blows a raspberry on the exposed skin.
You make your way back to his side and engulf them both in a hug. Your perfect little family of three, soon to be four, and you couldn’t be more content than you are in this moment.
◞◟·̩͙  ͜  ˳꣑୧ ͜  ◞◟·̩͙◟
Two hours and one Christmas TV special later, Ellie is snuggled tight to Steve’s chest, lost to slumber. It appears Steve’s not too far behind her as his head is rested against the back of the couch– mouth open and slightly snoring– comforted by his own personal weighted blanket.
“Stevie,” you whisper, giving him a gentle shake, “don’t fall asleep,”
“Jus’ resting my eyes, darlin’,”
You scoff, teasing, “Right,”
He looks down at the sleeping child nuzzled into him, and plants a barely there kiss to the crown of her head. He rises slowly, so as not to wake her, and you follow him to her room.
He sets her down atop the frilly pink comforter with a practised ease, she stirs only slightly, and covers her up with a Disney Princess blanket that was previously splayed at the end of the mattress. You take turns giving her featherlight kisses and wishing her ‘sweet dreams’ even though you know she can’t hear you.
You and Steve are hand in hand as you tiptoe out of her room and close the door with a soft click, giggling like children.
Outside her door, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Then to each cheek. Then to your mouth.
“I love you,” you whisper.
“I love you,” he whispers back, “more than anything,”
“Wanna call it a night?”
“Can we make out first?”
You gasp in faux disapprovement as you smack a loving hand against his chest and he fakes a wince for dramatic effect. Always the drama queen, your Steve.
“Keep it in your pants, Big Boy,”
“Don’t call me that,” he tries to sound stern and fails.
“You love it,” you smirk.
You squeal when he grabs you behind your knees and hoists you up and over his shoulders.
“Quiet, baby. You’re gonna wake up our baby,” he scolds through a giggle. You pinch his butt in retaliation.
“Okay, that’s it. Off to bed with you,”
The next hour is spent in bed with your best friend– hushed laughs and languid kisses and skin caressing skin before you both drift off into a peaceful sleep; holding each other close like you always have.
divider credit to @/strangergraphics
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rafescvntyclubgf · 26 days ago
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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼
𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬
𝔻𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕠𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕦𝕥 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 ℙ𝕚𝕖
𝙾𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
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*part of the “Milkshake” AU — writen to be read alone.
warnings: dark!rafe, dark!reader, older!rafe (30s), jealous!rafe, perv!rafe, obsessed!rafe, fetishizes simple things the reader does, swearing, teasing, threats, begging, bribes for sex, cheating on spouse (sofia), semi public handjob, cum tasting, choking, angst, begging, shower sex, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, brief oral (female receiving)
📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! This was not a kinkmas ask, but I made it one 😋 The premise is that you hooked up with your best friend Rafe a few months back. He admitted to being obsessed with you and was even willing to pay for you to be intimate because he was so desperate. Since then, you have been hooking up, and he promised he would leave Sofia, but he hasn't yet, and you're getting impatient. When you show up for Christmas dinner at the Camerons with your ex Kelce, you can't help but smile while Rafe squirms.
❕note about Sofia: please remember this is a dark!reader fic. She doesn't like Sofia, and she's vocal about that. Sofia is solely there for the plot❕
Masterlist
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Reader's POV:
The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, a sheen of perfection glossing over every interaction as it always did when Sofia hosted. The table was set—fine china, crystal glasses, formal centerpieces that screamed kook royalty.
Sofia smiled her perfect smile, stealing glances at her perfect husband. How could you not hate her? Not in the petty passing way that you would hate someone for being too poised or too sweet. You despised Sofia because she embodied everything you weren’t: composed, polished, obedient. And maybe that’s what he wanted me to be—doubtful, given the way he’s staring.
And despite having the perfect wife and life, he kept coming back to you.
You let your finger trail along the edge of the wine glass, eyes shifting to Rafe’s. His gaze follows your fingers as they do… Until someone startles him, Rafe comes to smile and laugh at shit he didn’t hear, just dreaming about your slight fingers tracing up his hard dick just like that—just like they were the night before.
And then his eyes cut fast: one seat to your right where Kelce sits. Your ex and one of his best friends turned ex-best friends no less than two hours ago when you showed up at the Cameron's front door, one hand holding Kelce’s, the other clutching a bottle of Sofia’s favorite wine.
Kelce had no idea what he was walking into tonight. You hadn’t seen him in years, and truthfully, you weren’t sure why you invited him in the first place… A smile rolls across your lips as you draw your wine glass to your mouth, taking a sip, living in that lie for another moment.
You wanted to watch Rafe squirm…
His jaw coils as Kelce leans in, complimenting your dress as his hand rests against your thigh. You let out a breathy laugh—the kind of laugh that has Rafe adjusting in his seat. The wood creaks on the other side of you; the man quickly clears his throat before asking for something else from down the table.
Rafe’s focus is shameless, burning a hole into your back as you reach up, fixing the collar of Kelce’s button down shirt. Rafe taps his ring against his glass in a subtle attempt to pull your attention back to him, but there’s nothing subtle about Rafe Cameron…
“Could you pass me that, baby,” Rafe mumbles, and you turn to him. His eyes are there when you bend back, gesturing lazily to something down the table, but his words also catch Sofia. That little ‘baby’ reached both of your ears, making Rafe draw a deep, flustered breath.
He chooses to ignore it, and so does she. You reach for the coconut cream pie, passing it to Rafe with a knowing smile. His eyes follow your fingers, your thumb dipping in the sweet treat.
“Rafe,” Sofia chirps, the tone in her voice letting you know that that wasn’t the first time she tried to catch his attention. You were so focused on each other that you missed her first attempt. Rafe glances at her, gripping the table's edge, trying desperately to keep his eyes on his wife, but he knows what you’re about to do next.
She asks him about his work trip, inviting Topper and Ruthie into the conversation in an attempt to merge the ends of the table in conversation—possibly trying to cut the tension she was feeling between the two of you too. Rafe’s words get lost on his lips as he watches yours wrap around your thumb, sucking it clean.
He quickly realigns his focus, talking about his conference in Vancouver—the one he had been begging you to meet him for. And just when he’s about to drop some figures, he tumbles over his words, swallowing thickly before starting again when he feels your fingers walk over to his thigh.
His features sharpen as you delicately trace the inner seam of his pants, watching him as he tries to keep his composure.
Topper starts to speak, and Rafe breathes a sigh of relief, glancing down at his lap for a moment without Sofia’s watchful eye.
Your hand widens, cupping his bulge, making him bite his lips and flare his nose to hold back a moan.
He swallows thickly, his broad chest rising and falling, flexing tightly on his exhale as he tries his best to continue his conversation with the Thorntons as you start to stoke him over his dress pants.
Rafe’s tongue runs along his red bottom lip, having bitten it so hard he drew blood. You reach over with your other hand, grabbing his napkin by mistake, dabbing the corners of your lips, letting it fall between your thighs.
You separate your legs, dragging the linen napkin up your soaked slit. Passing it to Rafe with a gentle “Sorry, I think this is yours.”
He shakes his head and grits his teeth as you rub his dick with one hand and fix the bottom of your dress with the other. “S’fine,” he mumbles gently, pressing the words past his quivering lips.
Rafe looks at the napkin, resisting momentarily before lifting it to his face, rubbing his mouth. His eyes shut, taking in the scent lingering far too long. He rests it on the counter, a wet mark of his salvia left behind.
Your fingers work his clothed cock over and over, Rafe’s muscular thighs trembling with each push of your hand. His cock throbs underneath your palm, pushing against his zipper so hard you just know it hurts.
Rafe looks up to the ceiling, shutting his eyes for a moment before letting them roll back in his skull in peace, not wanting everyone else to see the pleasure radiating from between his thighs.
His fists close into tight balls at the table, pushing down into the hardwood to keep himself soundless, trying to leave his face as unchanged as possible when you look his way. “Toronto sounds nice,” you smile.
Rafe reaches up, running his hand across his forehead and through his hair, catching the sweat that gathered on his brow. “So nice,” he mumbles.
He reaches down, snatching your wrist, holding you in place, squeezing you with the cadence of the heavy loads spurting in his pants. He hangs his head slightly, releasing your hand, muscles firing hot as you run your fingers over his warm, wet, spent pooled on his lap.
Your hands drift back, fingers lifting to your lips, sucking the tips of your middle and your pointer fingers. Rafe’s eyes tighten on yours, lust-blow and irate.
He looks down at his pants again, seeing the mess, before returning his eyes to you. Rafe’s gaze stays locked as he lifts his wine glass to his lips, purposefully missing, letting the red liquor fall to his lap, concealing the mess. “Shit,” he huffs, directing his frustrations at you more than anything else, wetting his linen napkin in water before rubbing it clean, spreading it all out.
“Oh, Rafey,” Sofia scolds him playfully, her words slurring.
“It’s fine. Alright?” He snips, his lip twitching in a scowl toward you as you pour yourself another glass of wine. You look across the table at Sofia, catching her empty glass. Ever the polite guest, draining the rest of the bottle of Pontet Canet for her with a smile.
“For you,” you coo.
”Excuse me,” Rafe mumbles as he pushes the seat out, heading toward the stairs as the couples leave.
Sofia stands up, wobbling slightly from one too many glasses of wine. You lean into Kelce, but he already knows what you’ll say. “I’ll meet you at the car,” he whispers through a soft, judgemental chuckle.
You walk around the table, looping your arm around Sofia’s. “Let me help you up the stairs,” you say, for her ears only. She gives you a gentle smile and accepts the offer.
As soon as her head hits the pillow, her eyes are shut, just a purr of a snore slipping her perfect lips as you tuck her in, turning toward the door.
Rafe’s big body darkens the exit, his shadow casting ominously across the floor. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and tight.
“Tomorrow. Kelce’s waiting for me in the car,” you whisper as you head toward the door, veering around him. He grabs for you, pulling you in close.
”Tomorrow?” He spits, his jaw set. “Right fuckin’ now. What the hell are you doin’ with Kelce?”
”What’s wrong with Kelce?” You ask dumbly, making Rafe smirk and roll his eyes at you. “You should put some stain remover on that, Rafey,” you whisper as you cup his bulge, making him hiss. “Wine is real hard to get out.”
“Kelce?” He ignores you completely as he steps closer.
”Why does it matter?”
”You know damn well why it fuckin’ matters,” he hisses.
“Not a clue,” you laugh breathily. “I have no idea why that would matter to you, Rafe. Maybe I should ask your wife why the fuck you would care about me if you have her.”
”Enough-”
”Please,” you scoff as you push past him, but he grabs for you harder this time, shoving you up against the wall hard enough for knick-knacks to clatter. Rafe looks back at Sofia, her body unmoved, sleeping peacefully in their bed. His eyes snap to yours, his grip tightening on you in frustration, pinning you against the wall.
“What the fuck is going on with you, huh?” He grunts; the both of breathing heavily, lips mere inches away from each other, making his eyes fall, wetting his own.
“I’m done waiting around,” you whisper.
“Stop,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous. His hand finds its way around your throat, squeezing tighter. “Stop actin’ like this shit is easy for me.”
”Let me go,” you gag the words out as your lips curl into a smirk.
Rafe’s eyes roll back when he sees your lips curl, growling in frustration before turning you around; pushing you up into the wall. He grabs your hips, pressing his clothed dick into your ass as you arch your back.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans as he paws for the bottom of your dress, pulling it around your hips. His big hands wrap around the front of your body, rough fingers gliding through your soaked folds as he moans in your ear.
”Rafe…” You whisper as you circle your hips; the man teasing your entrance with his big fingers.
“Sweetheart?” His deep voice vibrates against your neck, lips skimming your hot skin.
“I’m taking Kelce back to my place,” you whisper as you turn your cheek slightly, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “So when you text me, begging me to let you in, and I don’t answer… Well, I’m guessing you know the rest.”
“You’re lying,” he mumbles, his voice laced with doubt.
“Hey, baby. You good?” You hear Kelce’s voice echo from the bottom of the staircase.
“Tell your wife dinner was lovely,” you smile.
Rafe lets you go reluctantly, stepping out in the hall to watch you as you walk away, heels clicking along the hardwood floor, giving him one last parting look and a smile.
The drive back to your house was electric—your phone vibrated with back-to-back notifications from Rafe, panicking over you and the utterly oblivious man in your driver's seat.
Once you got home, you poured yourself a glass of wine and started the shower, letting your party dress fall to the floor. You snapped some pictures before sending them off…
You bit your lip and smiled, thinking about the last picture you included as well—an old shot of you and Kelce, the bathroom mirror hazy—his hands covering all the right spots. There was no nasty message, no witty caption. The implication was clear.
It didn’t take long.
You look out your bedroom window, watching Rafe’s BMW peel down the dark road, his tires screeching to a stop outside. Rafe’s car door swings open and slams shut, doing the same to your front door until his heavy feet are pounding inside.
He calls your name from the bottom of the steps, his voice raw and hoarse with fear. You stay quiet, letting the sounds of the running water answer for you. Rafe’s footsteps thunder up the stairs as he curses under his breath, mumbling about the things he'd do next.
Rafe throws open the door; his face, a storm of emotions—anger, desperation, guilt as he struggles for a breath, his big hand clutching his chest as he fights for air. “You’re fucking insane,” he shouts as he sees you dry and alone, sitting on the end of your bed in a satin robe with a glass of wine. You raise an eyebrow, challenging him with your glare.
“Am I?” You ask, taking another sip.
“You were trying to make me lose my shit,” he snaps as he steps forward.
“Oh no…” You pout your lip condescendingly. “And it worked, didn't it?”
“You’re bein’ cruel. Jesus— we’re friends. You're my best friend, and you're treatin’ me like this? This is a mess, and it’s all your fuckin’ fault,” he screams, seeing red.
“How?” You laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
“You knew how fuckin’ weak I am when it comes to you, and you fuckin’ seduced me. Okay?”
“And you paid me to keep going,” you counter. “You could have ignored it, Rafe. You were the one who begged me for more.”
“Your… Fuck. Your-” Rafe words fall away as you tug at the satin bow of your robe, letting it fall open.
“You told me you’d leave her, Rafe. You promised. But here we are, alone in my house,” you whisper as his muscles strain, holding himself from reaching out for you. “And you're still playing house with Sofia.”
“I know,” he groans as he reaches out, touching the space between your robe, tracing your bare skin.
“You wanna talk about friendship? You lied to me.”
“M’sorry,” he whispers as he closes the gap between you, lowering one side of your robe, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “I’ll leave her tomorrow,” he says, his voice breaking. “I swear to you, I will. Just… Don’t push me away,” he pleads. “And we’re not just friends. That’s fucking bullshit n’ you know it,” he mumbles as his lips meet your neck.
You lower the other side of the robe, the delicate material falling around your feet before you look up at Rafe. His blue eyes are locked on your body, studying you as you step away. He follows you close, pulling off his clothes with each step.
“Beg,” you say softly as you look over your shoulder before stepping inside. Rafe’s eyes soften on yours—his desperation tragic as you pull the door shut, leaving him outside.
“I’m begging you,” he pleads as he stands at the glass door, the shadow of his big body looming as he waits for you to say, ‘Okay.’ “You want me to pay you, baby? You want my money? Take it this time, alright? Anything you want.”
“I have plenty of money, Rafe.”
“Here…” He mumbles as his shadow shifts along the fogged glass, moving into the bedroom before running back in. “$5000 cash right now, all my credit cards, my Rolex, MY FUCKIN’ CAR,” he panics as he slams his keys on the counter.
“Your car, Rafe,” you chuckle breathily.
“If I had more to give you right now, I'd give it to you, I swear to Christ,” he rambles as his big hands rest on the other side of the glass, sliding down the condensation. “Please. Just let me inside. Alright? I'll make this right.” You watch him reach down, grabbing the handle, unsure if he’ll even wait for your go-ahead, the man so painfully obsessed he might just take that risk. “Please-”
“You have one chance, Rafe-” As soon as his name leaves your lips, the door swings open. Rafe pushes you up against the cold tile, pinning you against the wall just like he did in his bedroom.
His lips crash against yours, kissing you fast and hard, leaving you reaching for a breath just for him to steal it again. "Turn around,” he mutters, but before you can act, he turns you fast, his patience long gone. “Been thinkin’ about this… Always think about you,” he mumbles drunkenly as he grabs your hips, pulling your ass flush against him, his thick cock nestled between your plush thighs. He grabs his length, tapping his tip against your ass before running himself through your wet slit. “Thought I lost you… Losing my goddamn fuckin’ mind, and I'm still thinkin’ about this pussy-”
“Rafe!” Your voice bounces off the shower walls as he slams into you. His moan echoes closely behind as he bottoms you out.
“That’s it. Mmm, baby… Holy shit,” he hums, getting his fix as his rough hands circle your ass, slipping up your back. Before you can beg for more, his hands grab your shoulders, drilling into you from the back as water rushes between the two of you. “So fucking tight,” he grunts between rough thrusts, leaving you gasping as your hands slip against the wall from the impact.
“Choke me,” you cry as you feel your pleasure burn in your belly.
“Mpfhh… Fuckin’ love you,” he whines as his fingers find your throat, wrapping around you tight. The sound of skin slapping skin gets louder and louder, your heart racing as your pleasure mounts.
“Fuck, Rafe,” you sob, voice cracking from his tight grip.
“Cum for me,” he groans. “Make a mess for me, princess. Let me clean it up.”
Your eyes roll back in your head, pulsing around his long, fat cock. Rafe pulls you back by your throat, wrapping his arms around your neck and your waist as he fills your pussy with his cum and your ears with his fuck-out moans.
Rafe hangs his head momentarily, catching his breath, lips pressed against your shoulder. He lets out a satisfied breath as he lowers himself to his knees, grabbing your hips, turning you around as you smile down at him, your chest rising and falling fast as you giggle. He presses little kisses against your hips, burning his face against you momentarily before pulling back, his beautiful eyes in a daze.
“What are you doing, baby?” You whirr as you run your nails through his hair.
Rafe takes your thigh, looping it over his shoulder; he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss against your clit, making you whimper in sensitivity.
“Cleaning up the mess, princess.”
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reiderwriter · 9 months ago
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Flirting with the FBI
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word count: 7.1k
Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???
Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.
A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭
Masterlist
You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.
If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.
Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.
You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.
You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.
“There once was a serial killer,
Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,
He cut, diced and slashed,
Left the feds quite abashed,
So I leave this message to be clearer”
The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.
You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.
You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.
None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.
And you really wanted to listen in.
The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.
Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.
A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.
With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.
“There once was a bullpen full of agents,
Who thought they were very surveillant,
But a simply code crack,
And there system did hack,
A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”
This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.
The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.
Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.
He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.
Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.
“The tall, dark and handsome employee,
How I do wish that he could enjoy me,
I would gladly submit,
we match wit for wit,
But he's trying his best to arrest me.”
The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”
The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.
You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.
A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.
After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.
By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.
So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.
“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,
I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,
the killer, you see,
Is right now hunting me,
You're the ones who can do better tracking.”
You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.
That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.
You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.
“There once was a doctor called Reid,
Who I simply and truly just need,
I would lie on my back,
And then let him attack,
Any inch of my body with his seed.”
He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.
Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.
You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.
He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.
This latest limerick was his last straw.
“The cameras are how I can see you,
I do find myself enjoying the view,
His hair is so fine,
I wish he was mine,
The agent with more PhDs than two.”
“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.
“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”
“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”
“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”
They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.
“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.
“The agents grew closer by day,
As the killer wanted to escape,
He paced across the floor,
As I watched by his door,
Getting closer than the agents could say.”
He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.
“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”
“Officer Falstaff, why?”
“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.
“Spencer, wait-”
“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”
Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.
“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.
“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”
“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”
Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.
“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”
His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”
“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”
“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”
The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.
The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.
Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.
Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.
The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.
“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.
A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.
The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.
You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.
“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,
Working with you has been like a dream,
When Reid comes it is wet,
And my mind is all set,
Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”
The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.
“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.
“When you find me there's lots for me to say,
I can't help simply feeling this way,
Your profile I read,
Can't believe you're a Fed,
I yearn for you all night and day.”
Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.
He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.
You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.
“The Doctor had finally cracked it,
The only identity that could fit,
The pretty young thing,
Who'd been flirting with him,
And was thinking of sitting on his…”
You sent a second message along with the first.
“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”
The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.
xxx
So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.
You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.
Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.
You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.
He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.
He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.
“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”
Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.
“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”
“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”
“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.
“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.
“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”
“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”
“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”
“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”
He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.
“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.
“As much as anyone does.”
“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.
“What do you think, Doc?”
“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.
“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.
“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.
“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”
“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”
For the first time in a while, you were speechless.
“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”
“Why, Y/N?”
You sighed and looked back up at him.
“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.
“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.
“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”
He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.
“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”
“You want to sleep with me?”
His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.
“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”
To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.
“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”
You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.
“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.
“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”
You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.
“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”
Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.
“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”
“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”
The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.
A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.
“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.
You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.
“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.
“No, you don't.”
“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”
“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”
“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”
“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”
He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.
“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”
He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.
“Can we keep this serious, please?”
“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”
“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.
“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.
“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”
Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.
“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”
“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”
“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”
“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”
You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.
He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.
It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.
“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”
“I'm driving you home.”
“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”
“What about friends?”
“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”
His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.
“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”
“What?”
“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.
“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”
“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.
“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.
“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.
He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.
The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.
“Spencer!”
“Doctor Spencer Reid.”
“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”
“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”
You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.
“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.
“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”
The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.
He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.
“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.
“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”
“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”
He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.
“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.
“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”
“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.
It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.
When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.
“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.
“And let you touch my things? No.”
You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.
“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.
“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.
“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.
“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.
“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”
You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.
He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.
You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.
“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”
“What's the difference?”
“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."
"And what would that be?"
"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”
“Brat,” he spat at you.
“Fed,” you spat back.
“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.
“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.
“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”
His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.
“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”
You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.
“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”
“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.
“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”
With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.
The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.
His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.
“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.
With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.
“Fuck, Spencer-”
“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”
“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.
“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.
“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”
“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.
“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.
Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.
“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”
His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.
“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”
“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.
“Say it.”
“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”
“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.
“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.
“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.
Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.
Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.
“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.
They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.
“Who I simply and truly just need.”
He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.
“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”
A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.
“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”
His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.
He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.
“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.
You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.
You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.
He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.
If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.
He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.
Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.
When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.
“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.
“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”
“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.
Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.
When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.
He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.
“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”
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bonbonly · 27 days ago
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pairing: charles leclerc x f!reader ; tw: rough sex, lots of degrading
sugardaddy!charles leclerc just sent you a whopping check of 5 grand. he doesn't really say much to you during the day, but during the night he always demands that you call him right before you go to bed. he wants to hear your sweet voice. if he's having a good day, he'll ask you how your day went, what exciting things you did. his french accent's sounds like honey in your ears, and his little chuckle gets you all tipsy right before you sleep. if he's having a bad day, though? prepare to spend the entire night with your fingers in your cunt, and he's on FaceTime, making sure you don't cum without his permission. he wants to see you beg for him, to have him be your sole attention. your mind should only be on him and nothing else. who gave a fuck about your class tomorrow? for fuck's sake, he's paying your tuition to even attend those classes!
on one particular day when you're leaving class, he surprisingly texts you and asks if he can drop by your university. it's been a few weeks since he's last seen you. he has some gifts for you and he's planned to take you to some fancy restaurant.
your foolish self leaves him on read because your friends offered to finally take you to this concert, their brothers were also tagging along. and who doesn't love to ogle at their friend's hot brother? so not only did you leave him on read and ignore all his plans, you also forgot to call him right before you went to bed... which was at around 5 am in the morning after your friends and you partied the whole night. you might've also gave one of the boys a very sloppy blowjob in secret, but you were drunk and having fun, it didn't matter!
when you wake up the next morning, you realize what happened and in absolute fear of incurring his wrath, you don't call or text charles at all for the entire week. you didn't want to deal with him at the moment, you cared for him a lot of course you did! but you figured he'd let it slide in a week. he likes to text you a simple "sweet dreams mon ange" right before bed no matter what mood he was in; surely he'd get over it, right?
but then, this semester's housing hasn't been paid yet. charles was always on top of his game, he'd never wait until the deadline to pay. you figure that he must've forgot, so you call him but he's sent you straight to voicemail. with a frown, you hop into your car (a porsche 718 boxster that charles generously bought for you one night) and drive over to where he lives. you haven't seen your sugar daddy for a whole month now! you skip over to his front door, knocking eagerly because you desperately wanted to know why he didn't pay your housing.
you barely have time to speak because as soon as he opens that door, he's grabbing your arm and throwing you onto a sofa in the living room.
"oh i should've known you would be running to me as soon as i didn't pay one thing, pute" he snarls, and you're frowning at him. oh you made such a big mistake ignoring him for what? a month now?
"i go out of my way to buy you that car, to buy you expensive clothes... i pay for your tuition and housing, i pay for everything and yet you don't bother to notice me? i'm done, get out of my sight!" he yells, and you're scrambling to latch onto his feet,
"wait, wait, no, please! charles!" you notice his eyebrow raise at you in a condescending manner and you gulp, "mr. leclerc, i mean. please, please, i was just worried you'd get mad the first day when I ignored your text! i didn't mean for it to get out of hand!"
charles isn't convinced one bit, he's staring at you in frustration as a hand runs over his face. he snaps his fingers, gesturing for you to get up on your feet, "i don't think i can accept your words, you've destroyed my-"
"i'll suck your cock!" you blurt out, getting on your knees immediately. and he's chuckling darkly at your words, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as his other hand cups your chin to look up at him, his thumb running across your bottom lip,
"i could spend fortunes on your education, and the only thing you'd know is to please my cock, isn't that right ma chérie?" there's still an edge in his tone, but he sighs out loud, "i don't want your mouth, no i want your pussy, get up and head to my bedroom."
and you do so because you have your own selfish reasons, to be honest. you need him to pay for housing, you didn't want to end up living on the streets!
but as he's fucking you, his pace brutal and unforgiving, he never once mentions his deal to pay. he has your hair in a tight makeshift ponytail, watching your ass bounce with each thrust as his other hand is rubbing on your clit. you're cumming for the umpteenth time, bedsheets soaked with your sweat and juice. he has no signs of stopping, no he's going to have his fill after a month of not seeing you. your ass is red from all the spanking, you can hardly lay on your back because it's so bruised! your voice is hoarse from all your screaming, but he did offer you his cum to soothe the pain in your throat!
your hands are grabbing the sheets below you, sobbing uncontrollably as he's relentless. he's saying the vilest things above you as his hand now wraps around your throat,
"you're such a slut. maybe i should stop calling you mon ange, no you are far from angel. far from it. i bet you'd spread your legs for anyone you see, hm?"
you're shaking your head, telling him that he's the only man you ever think about the only man you ever wanted!
"don't fucking lie to me, i know what you did with those boys at the concert," and now you're confused as to how he even knew about that! he's shaking his head with a laugh as he watches you glance over your shoulder to look at him, "i should punish you harder for even thinking about sinking that mouth of yours onto another man - no - boy's cock, you whore. you just can't live without someone's cock inside you, can't you?"
"here's what's going to happen, you're going to talk to your housing and talk about cancelling for the term," his thrusts become harsher, and you're silently screaming at how good he feels, "i'm not paying for housing anymore. no, you're staying with me from now on. i can't trust you anymore, you'll throw yourself onto any man you see. you'll stay with me and every night before you go to bed, you're going to take my cock like the good little slut that you are, understood?"
you nod your head, milking his cock once more as he's filling you up with ropes of his cum. he groans out loud, head dipping to see your spent body. after he cleans you up, he has you sleep with him for the night, one arm around your waist as he pulls you closer to his frame. he inhales your smell, nuzzling into your neck; he could surely get used to do this now.
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br0kenangel · 4 months ago
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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀
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Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 4
Summary: you left as fast as you could. What was his gift? You were praying to god that your love be safe. But little you knew, it was just the start...
Warning: blood, mental illness.
˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Original gif by @asoiaffan ♡ Hope you enjoy!
PART 1, PART 2, PART 3
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Y/N's heart pounded in her chest like a drum as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Her breathing was shallow, frantic, as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Every horrible possibility ran through her mind, twisting her thoughts into a frantic knot. Her boyfriend wasn’t answering his calls. Aegon had smiled at her like he had some dark secret, that twisted, sick smile. The gift he left. What had he done?
She pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car speeding recklessly through the empty streets. The world around her blurred as she focused solely on getting home—on finding out what was waiting for her. Her hands were trembling so violently she could barely keep the car steady. As she took a sharp turn, her tires screeched against the pavement, almost colliding with a car coming from the opposite direction.
“Shit!” she gasped, jerking the wheel back. Her pulse skyrocketed, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. The other car honked angrily as it sped past, but Y/N didn’t care. She couldn’t think about anything except getting home.
“Aegon’s lying,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling. “He’s trying to scare me. He’s just… messing with me. I’ll get home, and it’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”
But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, the fear was still there, gnawing at her insides like a festering wound. She could still hear Aegon’s voice in her head, the way he had laughed so softly, so eerily.
Did you open the gift I left you?
Y/N swallowed back the rising panic, her throat tightening. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, her heart thundering so loudly in her chest she thought it might explode. She pressed harder on the gas, speeding through another intersection without checking. Her mind was a whirlwind, screaming at her, warning her, pleading with her to turn back—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see.
When she finally pulled into her driveway, she slammed on the brakes, barely giving the car time to stop before she jumped out. The moment she stepped outside, she froze.
The air was thick, heavy with a putrid smell—like something had rotted, festered. Her stomach lurched as the stench hit her full force, bile rising in her throat. It was a smell she couldn’t ignore, and it only heightened her terror. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong.
“Jacob…” Her voice cracked as she whispered her boyfriend’s name, the words barely a breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she stumbled toward the door, her legs weak and shaky. The smell only grew stronger as she got closer to the house, the kind of stench that clung to the walls, suffocating. Her mind spiraled into horrible images, and she felt her knees buckle beneath the weight of her fear.
“What did Aegon do?” she whimpered, her throat dry, her lips trembling.
She fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The smell hit her full force, thick and rancid, making her gag. Her eyes watered from the stench, and her mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t breathe.
“Jacob,” she whispered again, her voice desperate, pleading. “Please, God, no…”
Her eyes scanned the room, her vision blurry with fear. The house was eerily silent, except for the pounding of her heart in her ears. The living room was still, as if nothing had been disturbed. But then her gaze fell on something that hadn’t been there before—a large box sitting in the middle of the couch.
Y/N froze. The knot in her stomach twisted violently, her chest tightening with dread. The gift.
She took a slow, shaky step toward the box, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. The stench was overwhelming now, and her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to steel herself, telling herself it would be okay.
“He’s messing with me. He’s messing with me. He wouldn’t…”
But her thoughts were fractured, her mind replaying Aegon’s twisted smile, his eerie laugh, the way he had hinted at something horrible waiting for her. Her steps were slow, each one more painful than the last as she forced herself closer to the box. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to stop, to run, to leave—but she couldn’t. She had to know. She had to see what he had done.
Her knees nearly gave out beneath her as she stood in front of the box. Her hands trembled violently, hovering over the lid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath ragged as she tried to calm herself, tried to tell herself that whatever was inside, she could handle it.
“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. “It’s just a box. Just open it. Open it, and it’ll be over.”
She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she gripped the lid. And then, just as she was about to lift it, she heard it.
“Meow.”
Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her heart skipping a beat. The sound was soft, almost delicate, and it took her a moment to process what she had heard. Slowly, with trembling hands, she lifted the lid of the box. Inside, curled up in a soft blanket, was a small golden kitten with wide, innocent eyes and a pretty blue collar around its neck.
For a moment, Y/N just stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Her breath caught in her throat, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally broke free. She let out a sob—of relief, of exhaustion, of fear—and collapsed to her knees in front of the box.
It was just a kitten. A cute, tiny kitten. Nothing horrible. Nothing gruesome. Just… a kitten.
“Oh my God,” she choked out between sobs, her hands trembling as she reached into the box and scooped the kitten up into her arms. The kitten nuzzled against her, purring softly, and Y/N cried harder, her body shaking with the force of her relief.
She hugged the kitten tightly to her chest, pressing her face into its soft fur as she sobbed uncontrollably. The tension, the fear, the gut-wrenching panic she had felt—it all came crashing down at once, and she couldn’t hold it back. She kissed the top of the kitten’s head, her tears soaking into its fur as she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, God. Oh my God…”
For what felt like hours, she just sat there, cradling the kitten, her body wracked with sobs of relief. The terror she had felt—the belief that she would find something horrible, something irreversibly gruesome—it all melted away, leaving her trembling and exhausted.
When she finally managed to calm herself down, she stood up, still holding the kitten in her arms. Her mind was a haze, her body weak from the emotional onslaught. As she walked toward the kitchen to find something for the kitten to eat, she noticed something strange—the smell was still there.
Her heart skipped a beat, and her stomach twisted again. She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes landing on the counter where a package of meat had been left out—rotting. The smell was coming from the meat.
Y/N almost laughed—a weak, breathless laugh. All of her fear, all of her panic, had been over rotting meat.
The realization made her feel foolish, but it also made her feel relieved. She hadn’t found her boyfriend’s body. She hadn’t found anything horrible waiting for her. Just a kitten and some rotten meat.
But as she fed the kitten and sat down on the floor, petting its soft fur, a new fear crept into her mind. Aegon’s words still echoed in her head. Why isn’t he answering your calls?
Her relief was short-lived, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. Something was still wrong.
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The doorbell rang, its sharp sound cutting through the quiet of the house. Y/N froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She held the kitten closer, her mind racing with a flood of possibilities. Was it Aegon? Had he followed her here? Her stomach twisted with fear as she slowly walked toward the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
With trembling hands, she peeked through the peephole. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Jacob standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—he was alive. Jacob was standing there, perfectly fine.
She flung the door open, tears spilling down her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. “Jacob!” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you so much.”
Jacob stood there, stunned, the flowers still clutched in his hand as he blinked down at her. “Y/N… are you okay? What happened?”
But Y/N didn’t let him finish. She tightened her hold on him, her tears soaking into his shirt as she pressed her face harder into his chest. “I thought… I thought something happened to you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve been so scared. I missed you so much, Jacob.”
His arms wrapped around her slowly, pulling her closer as he kissed the top of her head. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft. He held her tightly, gently rubbing her back as he tried to calm her down. “I’m here now. Everything’s okay.”
For a moment, the relief was overwhelming, and she stayed in his arms, soaking in his warmth, the familiar smell of him. It was real—Jacob was safe, and Aegon hadn’t touched him. She hadn’t lost him.
After a few moments, they moved to the couch, and Y/N wiped her tears, trying to compose herself as she sat beside him. Jacob placed the bouquet of flowers on the coffee table, a small, awkward smile on his face as he looked at her. “I brought these for you,” he said softly.
She managed a weak smile, trying to hide the lingering fear that gnawed at her insides. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
They sat in a brief, comfortable silence before Jacob sighed, his expression turning more serious. “Y/N… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Her heart sank. Something to talk about? She suddenly had a bad feeling, the unease creeping back into her chest. But she forced a smile, trying to push the anxiety aside. “What is it?”
Jacob ran a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with hesitation. “I’ve been offered a job,” he began slowly, “but it’s far away. Really far away. I’ll have to leave soon, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Y/N’s mind immediately raced back to Aegon—the man who had haunted her thoughts and dreams, the man who had been tormenting her for weeks. The man who might have killed Jacob if things had gone differently. The thought of being alone, with no one to protect her from Aegon, made her stomach churn. But she swallowed her fear, forcing herself to remain calm.
She couldn’t tell Jacob about Aegon. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through. She didn’t want to fight with him again, and she certainly didn’t want him to think she was crazy.
So instead, she plastered on a smile, pretending everything was fine. “That’s… great,” she said, her voice unnaturally bright. “I’m really happy for you, Jacob.”
He looked at her, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you sure? I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want to leave you alone—”
“I’ll be fine,” Y/N interrupted, her voice firm despite the terror creeping into her chest. “I’ll be okay. You deserve this, and I don’t want to hold you back.”
Jacob smiled, relief washing over his face. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me.”
They sat together for a while longer, talking about the details of his job and the logistics of his trip. Y/N listened, nodding at all the right moments, but inside, her mind was spiraling with fear. She smiled when she was supposed to, laughed at his jokes, and even kissed him, pretending that everything was fine. But deep down, she was still terrified. Aegon was out there, lurking in the shadows, and she knew he wasn’t done with her.
Jacob leaned in, kissing her softly, his hands cupping her face. She kissed him back, holding him close, trying to savor the moment despite the dread twisting in her stomach. When they pulled apart, Jacob smiled, his eyes soft and full of love. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Jacob smiled, clearly relieved by her reaction. He leaned in and kissed her softly, and she kissed him back, pretending everything was okay. But inside, she was shaking. The terror of what Aegon had said, of what he was capable of, still gnawed at her.
When they pulled away, Jacob wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, trying to ground herself. But the fear still lingered, festering inside her.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table, and Y/N flinched, her heart jumping into her throat. She reached for it with trembling hands, her eyes widening when she saw the message on the screen.
Do you like your gift? :)
The message was from an unknown number, but Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. She paled, her heart hammering in her chest as the blood drained from her face. Aegon.
Her breath hitched, her body going rigid as fear gripped her once again. Her mind spiraled, panic clawing at her insides. She wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room, to run. But she couldn’t. Not in front of Jacob.
Jacob glanced over, noticing her reaction. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice casual, but Y/N could hear the hint of curiosity.
Y/N forced a smile, quickly locking her phone and setting it back down on the table. “No one,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “Just a spam text.”
Jacob didn’t seem to notice the tremor in her voice. He nodded, leaning back against the couch as he wrapped an arm around her. “I guess it’s just me and you tonight, then,” he said with a smile.
Y/N smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Inside, she was screaming. Aegon was watching. Aegon knew.
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The days after Jacob left were quiet. Too quiet, in fact. Y/N tried to keep herself busy, throwing herself into distractions to keep her mind from wandering. At least she had Fluffy, the golden kitten Aegon had given her. He was a good boy, sweet and playful, a small comfort in the silence that now filled the house. She'd named him Fluffy because of his soft fur, and he seemed to take well to her affection, curling up in her lap and purring as if he sensed her unease.
But even Fluffy couldn't drown out the constant notifications from her phone. Aegon was still texting her, not the threatening or possessive kind of messages she was used to, but almost... sad ones. He talked about how he was feeling, how much everything hurt, how lonely he was. His words were raw, like those of a lost child, begging for attention, for someone to understand him.
“| don't know what's wrong with me anymore, Y/N."
"Everything hurts."
"I can't sleep, I can't think, I can't breathe without you."
"Why don't you ever reply? Do you even think about me? Or am I just dead to you?"
But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the kitten, or the movies, or anything else, there was one thing she couldn't escape: her phone. It buzzed constantly, the screen lighting up with message after message from Aegon. At first, she didn't bother reading them. She had learned long ago that giving him any attention, any response, was like feeding a starving animal. He would latch onto it and never let go.
He mentioned Fluffy too, explaining that he got her the kitten because he wanted her to have something to make her happy, something to be her friend when she felt alone. He wanted to give her a little version of Sunfyre, his beloved cat, so that she would have a piece of him even when he couldn't be with her. Aegon just wanted her to be happy.
There were long paragraphs detailing his spirals, how he would drink until he couldn't feel anything, how the world seemed to blur around him. His words became increasingly disjointed, desperate.
"I feel like I'm disappearing. Do you even remember me?"
"I bought him for you so you wouldn't be alone. So you'd have a piece of me with you."
"I wanted you to be happy. That's all l've ever wanted."
Sometimes, Y/N felt a strange flicker of pity for him. He sounded so hurt, so lost. But every time she thought about feeling sorry for him, she reminded herself that this was Aegon. The same man who had put her through hell, the same man who had stalked her, who had terrorized her. It didn't matter how sad or broken he sounded-she couldn't trust him. She couldn't let herself fall into that trap again.
And so, she ignored him.
She never replied to his messages. She couldn't. And for a while, it seemed like that was enough. Aegon remained calm, his texts gentle, almost pleading, but never aggressive. Everything was fine, or as fine as it could be.
Until it wasn't.
One evening, Y/N noticed her phone buzzing more than usual. At first, it was just a few messages from Aegon, the usual ramblings about his day or how much he missed her. But then the texts became more frequent, coming one after another, a steady stream of notifications lighting up her screen.
He was demanding her to reply.
It wasn't a request anymore-it was an order. The tone of his messages shifted, becoming more erratic, more desperate.
"Why aren't you answering me?"
"I know you're there."
"Please, just talk to me."
The texts came faster, piling up one after another until her phone buzzed continuously. Then, the calls started.
Her phone rang and rang, Aegon's name flashing across the screen. She ignored it, her hands trembling as she tried to keep herself calm. But the ringing didn't stop. It was relentless. The sound echoed in the small living room, pounding against her skull, making her chest tighten with anxiety.
Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Her heart was racing, her hands shaking as she reached for her phone and turned it off completely. The sudden silence was deafening, but it was better than hearing Aegon's voice, than seeing his name over and over.
She tried to distract herself, to forget about the flood of messages, about the growing dread building in the pit of her stomach. She put on a movie, curled up on the couch with Fluffy, trying to lose herself in the noise of the television. But her mind kept wandering back to Aegon, to his erratic texts, his sudden shift from pitiful to demanding. Something was Wrong. She could feel it.
And then, the doorbell rang.
Y/N’s heart stopped.
Her eyes flicked to the door, her body going cold as fear washed over her. She didn’t move at first, just stared at the door, her breath shallow, her mind racing. It couldn’t be…
Slowly, she stood up, her legs trembling as she moved toward the door, careful not to make a sound. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see who was standing on the other side. But she had to know.
Peeking through the peephole, her blood turned to ice.
It was Aegon.
He was standing there, his face pale and smeared with blood. His clothes were stained with it too, dark crimson splashes that looked like they’d been hastily wiped away. His hair was disheveled, his eyes wide and wild, like an animal cornered and desperate.
Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she watched him. He didn’t look right. He didn’t look normal. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
And then he spoke.
“Please… let me in.”
Her breath hitched, her entire body stiffening in place. She didn't respond. She couldn't. Her throat was too tight, her mind racing too fast to form coherent thoughts. She just stood there, frozen in place, as he pressed his bloodied hand against the door, smearing it with red.
"I need you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. "Something happened. I did something bad. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to go to."
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he looked so utterly pathetic, so broken, that for a fleeting moment, Y/N almost felt sorry for him again. Almost. But the sheer terror that gripped her heart wouldn't let her move. She couldn't afford to feel sorry for him. Not now.
"I don't feel good, Y/N" Aegon sobbed, his hand sliding down the door, leaving a dark red smear behind. "Please... I just want to see you. Please. Let me in."
Y/N’s hand hovered over the doorknob, her mind a storm of confusion and fear. A part of her wanted to open the door, wanted to help him. He looked so broken, so lost. She couldn’t help but feel that same flicker of pity again, that small voice in the back of her mind whispering that maybe he really did need her, that maybe he really was just a scared, lonely boy.
But then Aegon’s face twisted, his tear-streaked expression contorting into something darker, something terrifying.
“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, slamming his fists against the door. The sudden violence made Y/N jump, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbled back, her eyes wide with terror.
“I know you’re in there!” Aegon screamed, his voice raw with rage. “You think you can hide from me?! You think I don’t fucking know?!”
He pounded on the door again, harder this time, the wood rattling under the force of his fists. “You’re mine!” he shouted, his voice cracking with fury. “I’ll fucking kill you, Y/N! I’ll rip you open! I’ll tear you apart!”
Y/N’s body went cold, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest. She stumbled back, her mind screaming at her to run, to hide. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t face him. Not like this.
Y/N's body moved on instinct, her fight-or-flight response kicking in. She ran. She bolted to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, her heart hammering in her chest. Her hands shook so violently that she could barely turn the lock, but she did it. She locked the door and stumbled backward.
Y/N sat huddled in the tub, her entire body trembling uncontrollably, clutching Fluffy so tightly that she could feel his little heartbeat against her chest. Her breath was shallow, uneven, the fear twisting in her stomach like a knife. She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to silence the sobs that threatened to escape. If she made a sound—any sound—he would know where she was.
The front door had crashed open. Aegon was inside. He didn’t call out anymore; the apartment had gone terrifyingly quiet except for the slow, deliberate thud of his footsteps. Each step echoed through the empty rooms, growing louder, heavier. He was searching for her.
Her mind raced, each frantic thought more horrifying than the last.
He’s going to find me. He’s going to kill me.
Her heart hammered so violently in her chest that she thought it might explode. The apartment was small; there weren’t many places to hide. He would check the bedroom soon. It was only a matter of time before he found her.
Stay quiet. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he’ll think you’re not here.
But the thought was ridiculous. He knew she was here. He had known from the moment he’d started pounding on the door. He could feel her fear, her presence, like a shark smelling blood in the water.
The footsteps grew closer.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing herself against the cold, hard surface of the tub. Her grip tightened around Fluffy, who had gone still in her arms, sensing the terror in the air. She could hear Aegon’s footsteps in the hallway now, slow and methodical, as if he were savoring the anticipation.
Don’t come in here. Please, don’t come in here.
The bedroom door creaked open.
Her entire body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat. She bit down on her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood, forcing herself to stay still, stay quiet. Her chest ached from the effort of holding her breath. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony from the tension, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound.
The silence was unbearable. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears, each thud a countdown to her doom.
The floorboards creaked. He was inside the room now.
Her mind was racing, a whirlwind of fear and desperation. What do I do? What can I do?
Run? No, he was too close. He would hear her. He would catch her. There was nowhere to run.
Fight? With what? She had nothing. She was defenseless. He was stronger than her, and she had seen the blood. She had no idea what he was capable of.
Hide. Just hide. Stay quiet.
She could hear him moving through the room, the soft scrape of his shoes against the floor. He wasn’t saying anything, but the silence was more terrifying than his screaming had ever been. It was the silence of someone who knew exactly what they were going to do. The silence of someone who was in control.
He’s looking for me. Her stomach twisted into a knot of terror.
The sound of a drawer being yanked open, then another. He was checking everywhere. She could picture him tearing through the room, methodically searching every corner, every shadow. Her heart thudded in her chest, so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Can he hear it? The thought sent a fresh wave of panic surging through her.
Please, please, just leave.
Suddenly, the air in the room shifted. Y/N’s breath hitched as she realized he was standing right outside the bathroom door. She could hear his breathing now, low and ragged, like a beast just beyond the threshold.
He knows. He knows I’m in here.
Her whole body locked up in terror as she imagined him standing there, staring at the door, his bloodshot eyes wide and crazed, his hands still covered in blood. Her mind conjured up horrifying images of him busting through, grabbing her, and dragging her out of the tub, his fingers sinking into her flesh.
He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me and I’ll never see daylight again.
Fluffy shifted slightly in her arms, a soft, almost imperceptible meow escaping his tiny throat. Y/N’s breath hitched, terror flashing through her veins like electricity. No, no, no, no, no.
The bathroom door handle rattled.
She froze. Every inch of her body turned to ice. The metal handle creaked as Aegon twisted it, testing the lock. It didn’t open, but he was trying. He was there. Just on the other side.
Her entire world shrank to that single sound—the soft, rhythmic rattling of the door handle as Aegon tried to get in. It felt like hours passed as she sat there, paralyzed in the tub, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for him to break through.
And then, with a sickening thud, the door slammed.
He was pounding on it now, harder and harder, the force of his blows making the door tremble. Each hit reverberated through her, shaking her down to her core.
Oh god, he’s coming in. He’s going to get in.
The doorframe groaned under the pressure, the wood splintering. Y/N pressed herself further into the tub, trying to make herself as small as possible, her heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight with fear. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to run, but she couldn’t. She was trapped.
The door cracked. She could hear the wood giving way.
Oh god, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.
But then… silence.
The pounding stopped.
She blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Was it over? Did he leave?
Her body trembled, her muscles aching from the tension. She didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare make a sound. She just waited, listening.
Nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just the eerie, deafening quiet.
Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her head, straining to hear something—anything. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Maybe he had given up. Maybe he was gone.
But then, out of nowhere, a loud, sickening crash shattered the silence.
Y/N’s blood ran cold. She whipped her head toward the source of the sound, her heart seizing in her chest.
Aegon’s face smashed through the small window in the bathroom door, the glass shattering around him. His bloodshot eye stared through the broken pane, wide and unblinking, searching. His face was smeared with blood, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones, but it was his eye—his one, crazed, bloodshot eye—that was the most terrifying.
It was staring right at where she was hiding.
Did he saw me? Did he saw me? Oh god. I'm dead. I'm dead.
Y/N slapped her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she tried to stifle her breathing, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he couldn’t see her, that he couldn’t hear the terrified gasps that escaped her despite her best efforts.
Don’t breathe. Don’t move. He can’t see you. He can’t see you.
But his eye… it was right there, inches from her, staring through the broken glass with a wild, unhinged intensity. His breathing was heavy, ragged, echoing in the small space as he scanned the room, looking for her. His hand reached through the broken window, the bloodied fingers scraping against the door, searching, clawing.
Y/N’s heart thundered in her chest, her pulse so loud she thought for sure he could hear it. Her entire body shook with fear, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her sobs.
Please don’t find me. Please, god, don’t find me.
For what felt like an eternity, Aegon stayed there, his face pressed against the door, his eye wide and frantic, his breath fogging up the glass. He didn’t say anything, didn’t scream or yell. He just… looked.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.
He pulled back, his bloodied hand retreating through the shattered window. His footsteps echoed through the apartment once again, slow and deliberate, growing fainter and fainter until they finally disappeared altogether.
He was gone.
Y/N stayed there, curled up in the bathtub, her body trembling violently, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Fluffy to her chest. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even breathe properly, too scared to believe that it was really over.
When she was sure he was gone, she let out a strangled, shaky breath and crawled out of the tub, her legs weak and shaking. Fluffy stayed behind, still curled up in the tub, too scared to move.
Her fingers fumbled for her phone, but she had turned it off earlier. With shaking hands, she powered it on, and as soon as the screen flickered to life, she called the police.
But even as she pressed the phone to her ear, the sound of her own heartbeat drowned everything else out.
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How about you? Did you like this part?
@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.
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