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221bshrlocked · 4 years ago

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Show Me Your True Colors

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Words: 14092 (I swear this was supposed to be a short oneshot but it got out of hand. I'm so so sorry.)

Warnings: 28% smut, 72% plot. Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). Oral (male and female receiving). Fingering and Squirting due to overstimulation. Some dom/sub elements but not full-on. Creampie. Rough handling (e.g. hair-pulling, spanking, hand-binding, some more hair-pulling). I think that's all?!

Inspired by these posts [x] [x] and by this lovely artist. Thanks @danniburgh for humoring me with my thots.

A/N: I came back from my temporary hiatus to post this because I couldn't wait. And now I shall return to my little corner again. Sorry guys these school/administrative issues are taking longer to deal with so I'm for the most part still away. This is not beta'd. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments please and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy. And you can add yourself to the taglist here.

It’s such a different atmosphere, from what he remembers at least. It’s been so long since he stepped foot on a university campus, and he can’t help but smile at the spectrum of personalities all around him. While some students lounge underneath the trees and on the grass, others ran hastily to their courses. Those were probably freshmen.

As he makes his way through the campus, he has to look at his phone numerous times to figure out where exactly he was going. That’s definitely one thing he didn’t miss about being in school, the fact that he was shit in directions and how he almost always got lost during the beginning of each semester.

When he does finally find the art history department, he silences his phone and heads to the first office he can find.

“Good afternoon, my name is Nicola. How can I help you?”

“Hi Nicola, I’m here to see Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I was wondering if you could direct me to her office please?” Marcus smiles as he unbuttons his suit jacket, not realizing that his FBI tag was now visible to the world.

“She’s currently in one of her lectures, you could-” Marcus follows Nicola’s line of sight when she grows quiet and groans when he sees that she noticed his FBI tag.

“Please, she’s not in trouble. I am part of the FBI Art Crime Team, and I’m actually coming to ask if we could get her professional opinion on an artifact. Just need her to consult on something.” He smiles at Nicola and waits for her expression to relax before he continues.

“Do you mind telling me which lecture hall she’s in?”

“Y-yes, she’s in H140. Make a right at the door and it’s the hall all the way at the end.”

“Thank you Nicola, have a good day.” Marcus nods at her before he buttons his jacket again to avoid any suspicious, terrified looks as he makes his way to the lecture hall. He walks quietly, avoiding the students walking past him as they exit the rooms. When he reaches the door, he turns the knob slowly to not make any noise, hoping that he wasn’t being too disruptive once he walks in. As he shuts it behind him and looks around, his eyes almost fall out of their sockets.

There are at least 250, maybe 300 students filling the seats of the room. He awkwardly smiles when some students look to the side and see him standing at the foot of the door. He quickly takes a seat and says nothing as the students return their attention to the large projected screen. Marcus hears what he assumes is your voice through the large speakers but he can’t place your position. As he looks at the projected images, he finally catches you through his peripheral vision as you step off the railing near the exit doors at the front of the room.

“Because of this association with the gods, many amulets used to ward off the evil eye include depictions of mythological figures and deities who are almost, if not always, female. To the Greeks and Romans, the most common fascinations with an evil eye were women in any shape or form. They were thought to have the most powerful and harmful gaze that might kill if eye contact was established. That’s basically me telling you to never look me in the eye or else I will curse the cow of your second cousin twice removed.” Laughter reverberates off the walls at your joke and only grows louder when you whisper, “just kidding...or am I?” Marcus can’t help but smile at your jokes, watching with fascination as you move up and down the stairs of one side of the lecture hall once you continue to speak.

“Now, I know what some of you are thinking...isn’t that a bit sexist? Well, to the ancients, no. And to us, it’s kind of a meh thing. I know that doesn’t sound very feminist of me but it all comes down to the culture and the ancient practices that carried over. Just remember that it wasn’t because they were women, it was because they were thought to be powerful...a glass half-full kinda thing.” Marcus watches you closely as you maintain your focus on the students before you switch the slide and stand in the middle of the stairway with your back towards the projector.

“So, we find goddesses such as Erinnyes or the Furies associated with the evil eye because of their avenging nature. Their heads were covered in serpents and their eyes were always bloodshot and one of the Furies by the name of Megaera was considered in late antiquity as the personification of envy and whose eyes were the most envious and deadly of all the Furies. She was described by poets as baskanon omma pherousa...bearing the evil eye. Naturally, many children in late antiquity constantly wore amulets of stone galactite to protect them from the eyes of Megaera, and sometimes even wore necklaces with her face on it to counteract the evil eye of someone else and have her curse the ones who tried to harm them. Basically, the ancients were playing a game of tag with the evil eye.” You descend the stairs and walk to the other side of the hall, and Marcus feels his chest tighten with how much confidence you exude, not just through your words but with how you carry yourself as well.

“Perhaps the most famous of these dangerous women is Medusa who was one of the Gorgones in Greek mythology. The Gorgones were one of many female beings such as the Harpies, the Erinnyes, the Graiae, and the Keres, who were said to be grim-faced, and who held horrible looks. Briefly, the story tells of how she was one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth and later became hateful-looking by Athena as punishment for being raped by Poseidon in the middle of the huntress’ temple. Her hair became serpents and she was so furious that anyone who would look at her would turn into stone...at least that is the version you will hear from the “all-knowing” male scholars within this field. But, and I know I’m going on a rant here, if you’re like me, you’re more likely to argue that Athena pretended to hate Medusa. The serpents were no punishment! The goddess looked at the poor woman and gave her a weapon to use against men because unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything to avenge her...not only because she didn’t get along with Poseidon but also because he was a god as well. Anyway, back to Medusa’s amazing power which I would love to have so I could use it whenever I’m talking to some professors in this department...don’t quote me on that.” Again, Marcus chuckles at your side commentary and notices how calm and enjoyable the atmosphere of the lecture is. If only he had professors like you when he was in university.

“Even after she was decapitated by Perseus, her powers were very much alive and it is said that Athena placed Medusa’s image on her shield, once Perseus returned it, in order to use it when she hunted. This suggests that depictions of her severed head held apotropaic power and like earlier, one could use a creature who held the power of the evil eye against another being who is said to use the evil eye. Following this principle of similia similibus, it is not surprising that most of the amulets found in Greece and Rome contained illustrations of Medusa’s decapitated head on them. What was once the possessor of the evil eye became a protective symbol against the very same thing.” Just as you are about to continue with the next image, an alarm goes off and Marcus frowns in shock at how inconsiderate it was that phones weren’t silenced. But his surprise only heightens when he sees you running down the steps to your desk and picking up the phone sitting in the middle of the table.

“Ahhhh man, we were just about to get to the cavalier. That’s okay. Remember, the second response is due first thing on Friday. If you can’t turn it in during class, shoot me an email and we can work something out with my TAs. Go forth my clever spawns!” Marcus stands up and glues himself to the wall when he sees students emptying the lecture hall, his eyes on your form at the front of the class. He hopes you don’t leave out of the front exit and begins to make his way to you through the multitude of undergrads leaving. When he reaches your desk, he stands to the side until you finish chatting with one of the students and begins to collect your work.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Please, it’s just Y/N. Who are you and how can I help you today?” You almost do a double take when you look up from your bag and see the man standing in front of you. To say that you were starstruck by the man in front of you would have been the understatement of the century.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike,” he holds out his FBI tag for you and watches as you raise an eyebrow at him before you swing your bag across your shoulders and motion for him to follow you out of the hall.

“I would like to put it on record that I do not, in fact, wish to turn any of my colleagues to stone.” You joke, and Marcus senses that you are perhaps nervous at seeing his tag.

“Believe me, I would like to do that to some of mine as well...but no, not why I’m here.” Marcus clips the tag below his jacket as he walks with you.

“May I ask what I have done that caught the FBI’s attention?” You walk ahead of him, and ask him if it was okay for him to head over to your office with you.

“I’m with the FBI Art Crime Team and I’m here on a request. We would like to consult you on an open investigation and I came here to ask what your availability is.” Marcus follows you up the stairs, barely forcing his eyes to remain on your feet instead of elsewhere.

“Oh, me? That’s...wow. Of all the things I thought I would accomplish in my life, that’s definitely not one of them. May I ask what it is you need my opinion on?” You push open the doorway of the staircase and point at your office across the quiet hall.

“Unfortunately, there is a lot of paperwork you need to fill out before we get to work so I can’t disclose anything about the case until you sign in.” Marcus steps into the office behind you and watches as you set your things down before you move to your desk. He can’t help but feel his muscles loosen at the sight of the bookshelves across your room.

“This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to me all year long so yes, hundred percent. I’m available for the rest of the day today as well as tomorrow and Friday after lecture which ends at the same time as today’s.” You beam up at him as you take two books out of your bag and replace them with a folder that was sitting in the middle of your desk. Marcus looks at you quizzically, marveling at how much easier this was going. He genuinely thought he was going to meet with someone who was probably a bit proud and perhaps as much of an asshole as his previous professors but you were so much different than anyone he’s ever met within this field.

“Are you sure? I understand if you need to take a week or two-”

“No please, you’ll be saving me from faculty lunches and two seminars by colleagues that I genuinely cannot fucking stand- oh, sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to-” You swing your leather bag around your shoulder again and shut the blinds of the windows before you walk to the door.

“Please, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Marcus chuckles at the excitement rolling off of you and bites his lower lip when he watches you quickly fix your hair.

“I might need to have lunch on the way to your office though if that’s okay?” You take a plastic container out of your bag and smile sheepishly at him as you lock your door.

“Wow...is your bag bigger on the inside or something? And, yeah fine by me.” He pushes his hands into his pockets again and walks next to you, a little corner in his heart gradually filling with hope letting him know that he should be cautious. He didn’t want a repeat of last time.

You both chat briefly on your way to headquarters and Marcus apologizes every time he looks over and sees you struggling with your food. By the time you make it to the building, Marcus can tell you are a bit nervous and he assures you once more that this was merely a consultation.

“Wait how did you even find me?” You take your jacket off along with everything in your pockets, laying them down near your bag as they go through the scanner. Marcus passes through with his badge and waits for you on the other side, picking up your things as you put your jacket back on.

“I made some calls and a friend suggested to get in touch with you because of your expertise.”

“Oh now we’re getting somewhere. You have a Greek artifact don’t you?” Marcus halts in his steps and looks over to you as he shuts his eyes in irritation. He should have watched what he said.

“S-sorry I couldn’t help it. I’ll stop until I fill out whatever paperwork you have for me.” You take your things from him and walk quietly as he leads you to the elevators.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s not personal, it’s just-”

“Business I know. I know. I’m so used to watching this kind of stuff in movies that I tend to forget it’s all fake and you’re...the real deal.” You hope he doesn’t see the way your eyes trail over his taller form, silently cursing yourself when you meet his eyes and notice how he’s already staring at you with a smile.

“Sorry.” You apologize again and look straight ahead, hands tightening around the leather strap when you realize that he’s still looking at you.

Marcus fists the hands in his pockets to prevent himself from saying anything else that might make you uncomfortable, and he looks at the increasing numbers as they reach his floor. A loud ring signals your arrival and Marcus stretches out his hand so you could walk ahead of him. You wait until he tells you where to go and say nothing when he stops for a second and whispers something to another agent.

When you arrive at his office, you stand to the side and wait for him to tell you what to do.

“What’re you doing all the way over there? Come here.” Marcus calls you over to his desk and smiles, hoping to put you a little at ease. You step towards him and set your stuff on the floor as you sit opposite him on one of the two chairs. He pulls out a couple of files and sets them in front of you in four different piles.

“That’s a lot of paperwork.” You chuckle nervously as you take out a pen from your bag.

“I know, I’m sorry. But that’s why I’m here. These are the building rules and your signature is basically you telling us you’ll abide by all of them.”

“I don’t know any of them.” You respond immediately, and rub harshly at the pen between your fingers.

“I’ll be with you at all times so you don’t have to worry about that.” His smile throws you off guard and you nod before you sign the highlighted areas.

“And these are you swearing that you will tell no one of whatever you see, hear, do, etc. within the building.” You nod and sign through the stapled paperwork before sliding them his way.

“We’re almost done. These two are like the second pile but they have to do with this case specifically. And they extend to outside the premises, meaning that if I or another agent on the case tells you anything that has to do with your work here today while we’re grabbing coffee from across the street, you can’t say it to a living soul.” Marcus points at the four highlighted boxes and tells you to sign the date next to them as well.

“So I can say it to my dead cousin?” You ask as you sign the two papers and hand them to him, unable to hold your laughter when he shakes his head as he pushes the last pile towards you.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

“Can’t help it.”

“And finally, these are you swearing that whatever you tell us today, be it an opinion, a fact, or anything else, is the absolute truth. Basically, you’re not fucking with us.” You raise an eyebrow at his choice in words and he shrugs his shoulders as he motions for the empty spaces again. When you’re done, Marcus collects all the files and places them in a folder before he unlocks his desk and pushes them inside.

“I don’t ever want to see my signature again.” You whisper as he leads you out of the office towards a conference room. He holds the door for you and nods ahead, waiting for you to step in before he shuts the door behind him and turns around. You try to ignore the hand pushing on your lower back as you walk in and spot three gentlemen and one woman standing towards the end of the long table.

“Wow, that was quick.” The female agent is first to speak and you say nothing as Marcus introduces you to them.

“Thank you for coming on such a short notice.”

“Of course. This is very exciting for me so I’m happy to help in any way.” You shake her hand and stand to the side as Marcus motions for you to sit down.

“This is Lydia, Ethan, Henry, and Noah.” Marcus points to each member of his team as he pulls out a chair next to you and sits down.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You nod towards them and look at the folder that Lydia hands to you. Marcus says something as you flip open the folder but you can’t respond, eyes almost falling out of their sockets as you take in the large image on the page. You look up at Marcus and everyone else before you return your attention to the picture.

“You recognize what this is then?” Ethan breaks the silence and watches as you move through the pages quickly.

“Umm, that seems like an oversimplification but yes.” You continue to study the images in front of you for another few minutes before you set them down and look up at Marcus.

“Some explanation would really help me out right now.” You tap softly on the papers, and your mind conjures up the wildest possible stories behind the images currently displayed in front of you.

“Oh right yes. We received a tip from the Smithsonian’s acquisitions department about a man trying to sell them this artifact for three million dollars,” Marcus notices your eyes widen but he continues, “but they’re not sure if it’s stolen or not. And he refuses to cooperate.”

“Which is where you come in. Have you seen anything like this before and if so, where?” Lydia stares at you as you return your attention to the pictures again.

“And the Smithsonian can’t confirm this?”

“Far from it. Marcus here is just afraid they’ll eventually get greedy and do anything to get their hands on it.” You look next to you and watch a faint blush take over the agent’s handsome features.

“I mean I don’t blame you. There are a bunch of real assholes in this field.” You laugh when he gives Lydia a ‘told you’ look.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you if I don’t see the actual pendant.” You shut the folder and push it away from you.

“That might be a problem.” Henry takes his glasses off and proceeds to clean them as he looks at his co-workers.

“Why? Do you not have it anymore?” Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of the FBI losing such an object.

“Oh no we have it. Our guy is afraid we’ll switch it out with a fake so he refuses to hand it to us unless he’s in the same room.”

“That’s funny. Is there a rule that says I can’t look at it while this man is in the room?” You ask Marcus and he can’t help but notice how giddy you’re being all of a sudden. Your excitement is almost palpable and he wills himself to focus on the question and not how you bite your lower lip as you wait for him.

“I mean…”

“You’re all going to be in the room aren’t you?” You cut him off before he says anything and when they all nod, you turn to Marcus once more and wait for his response.

“I guess it’s fine.” Marcus reluctantly answers before he asks Ethan and Noah to bring the man from the interrogation room he’s been in for the past couple of hours. Lydia and Henry let you in on more details and Marcus watches as you furrow your eyebrows in focus, occasionally cutting them off to ask them a question.

Fifteen minutes later and a knock on the door breaks you out of your haze. You look up just as Ethan and Noah walk in with a man in front of them. You say nothing as they bring him to your side of the room and set him down across from you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t steal it. I found it!” Your ears perk at his comment but you say nothing as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at you.

“May I see it?” You ask before anyone else says anything and the man continues to stare at you before he ignores your question.

“Please, I’m just here to confirm your story. I know for a fact there isn’t a museum out there that has this.” You notice the hardened expression on Henry’s face but he says nothing. A few long moments pass by and the man shifts to take something out of the inside his jacket. You inhale deeply and watch as he unwraps the cloth before he places the small pendant on the table in front of you.

“May I?” You ask again and if Marcus didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just trying to put the man at ease. If you were nervous around five FBI agents and you did nothing wrong, then his little thief must have been scared shitless.

When the man nods, you bring out a pair of gloves from your handbag and put them on, forcing yourself to remain calm as you pick up the pendant.

“What a beautiful work of art you are baby. Red jasper, my favorite!” Your excited words break the silence and you look up at the man in front of you with a smile, feeling your hands sweat when he slowly returns the expression.

Got you.

“Greek is marvelous...crystal clear, grammatically correct, unique placement.” It’s as silent as a cemetery and Marcus watches you closely as you narrow your eyes and adjust the stone under the light. If he wasn’t dealing with a criminal and a potentially stolen artifact, he would have told you how beautiful you looked when you were deep in the middle of a task.

“Hmm, what is this 6th century-ish spell? Oh my bad, no no no, I tend to mix them up sometimes. It’s definitely a 7th century formula.” You make an awkward face and watch as Lydia shakes her head at your little mix up.

“Now, let’s see what you got on the other side sweetheart.” You carefully turn the amulet around in the palm of your hand and barely hold back from gasping dramatically.

“My god...what a goddamn sight...oh oops sorry, that was probably blasphemous. A perfectly etched crucifixion...cross with 4 sides, with a plaque at the top...and of course, can’t forget the clothed Christ. The detail on this is truly unlike anything I’ve ever seen, down to the ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare’ around the figure. Where did you say you found it again?” You casually ask as you continue to inspect the stone, almost laughing when the man responds immediately to your question.

“Mount Athos.” Marcus turns to his team in shock. You’d managed to get the information out of him so easily while they spent an entire day trying to get him to say anything. It was a little funny how at ease the man seemed now, leaning forward towards you as you flipped the stone around.

“Ohh the hub of Eastern monasteries. Boy is this the most valuable artifact I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at then.” You set it down on the cloth and wrap it up before taking your gloves off and leaning back on the chair.

“See, told you its one of a kind. No one’s ever found anything like it before.” The man beams at you before he takes the object and puts it back in his jacket.

“Oh yeah it’s one of a kind alright...because it’s the most fake amulet I’ve ever had the misfortune of examining. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this disappointed in my life. And here I thought another one of these was out there. Did you even bother to do any research on this?” You frown at him and cross your arms in irritation, completely missing Marcus’ reaction and how he turns to Lydia to confirm that yes, you just said that it was a fake artifact.

“W-what?”

“I’d love to know where you got the red jasper because you could have fooled me with that. Let’s break this down shall we? The Greek is perfect, too perfect if I’m being honest. You never have grammatically correct syntax etched on a magical amulet, let alone proper diction. Oh and you should have probably used Classical Greek instead of modern Greek, like were you even trying? Really bad move to use a 7th century formula with a non-altered 6th century spell. The formula didn’t even exist yet!” You tilt your head to the side and watch as the man in front of you begins to fidget. His smile is replaced with a shocked expression and you watch as it slowly becomes angry.

Marcus was speechless. He never saw this coming and was looking at you with a mixture of awe and surprise at the turn of events. He could only stare at you as he took in your energy, the same confidence and intelligence he saw earlier in the day when he walked into your lecture.

“As for the back, you never get 4-sided crosses with these, only three, and the head of Christ makes up the fourth which you don’t actually see because of his head. No plaque, too detailed and non-existent in protection spells. Christ is always nude on magical amulets by the way...yes it’s weird, but it’s a fucking amulet and he was just some extra deity. And finally, never, ever, write out ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare.’ You write the acronym IXOYE.” You flip open the folder that was in front of you and grab a sharpie from Marcus’ file, circling the first letter of each Greek word and holding it up as if he was one of your students and you were trying to lecture him.

“Don’t even get me started on your provenance. Mount Athos? I mean for fuck’s sake, Constanza would have been a better option. At least we actually found amulets out there. How much was he asking for this?” You turn to Marcus and completely miss the starstruck eyes he’s giving you. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he finally realizes that you asked him a question.

“Uhhh 3 mil.”

“Oh boy...yeah, this is worth jack shit. Wouldn’t even do it’s intended job if you actually wore it as a protection pendant.” You watch as the man’s expression changes from anger to outrage and you barely have any time to push away your chair and hide behind Marcus before the man tries to jump on top of the table towards you. It takes Ethan and Noah approximately five seconds to tackle him down before they take him out of the room. You watch as they reach for the amulet in his pocket and give it to Henry just as they push him out.

You’re still coming down from the adrenaline rush when Marcus turns around and asks you if you are alright. As soon as you see the gun in his hands, your hold on his jacket tightens and you gulp nervously when you meet his eyes. He apologizes quickly once he sees where you’re looking and quickly puts the gun back in its holster.

“You okay?” Marcus holds your wrist and rubs his thumb over your pulse point until you begin to relax. You fix your jacket and take a deep breath before you meet his eyes, almost gasping when you see how dark and oddly calming they are.

“Didn’t think a consultation would get this exciting but uhh, yeah I’m good. I think.” You try to laugh it off but looking at the object in Henry’s hand makes you realize that the last five minutes did really happen and you actually managed to piss off someone to the point where he tried to attack you.

“And we were worried it was stolen…” Lydia shakes her head when she takes the amulet and swirls it around in her hand.

“I might be wrong but I think you should try to find out who made it, especially because of the red jasper. This came real close to a fake. And you should also try to date it as well...there might be more of these out there.” You smile when Lydia agrees and collects the folders on the table, thanking you on her way out.

“My pleasure...apart from that last bit.” You laugh it off and watch as she exits the conference room with Henry.

“So…” You turn to Marcus and whisper a quick thank you when he hands you your bag.

“So, this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to consult on this case. I- I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened. It’s not always like this, I promise. The exciting stuff usually happens when we find guys like him in abandoned warehouses.” Marcus continues to word vomit as he leads you back to his office.

“It’s okay really. My advisor always warned me about this.”

“About working with the FBI?”

“No no, about rambling so much that I piss off someone to the point where they try to kill me.” You’re taken aback by Marcus’ laugh and can’t help but giggle along with him as he leans back in his chair and continues to laugh.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you won’t work with us again?” There’s something in his voice that doesn’t ease the butterflies in your stomach and you place your hand on your chest dramatically as you bat your eyes at him.

“Why Agent Pike, are you trying to recruit me to the FBI?” You ask sarcastically and watch as he shrugs his shoulders before shutting off his computer and standing up.

“Just a consult here and there, should we meet another Greco-Roman artifact? Or...a fake one I guess.” You swallow the lump in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you and hope that you’re not misreading any signs.

“Can I take you out to dinner? As a thank you and an apology for putting your life in danger?” Marcus is reluctant to ask but he takes the leap of faith and hopes that you wouldn’t reject him.

“I- actually...in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll do well in public after that whole thing.” You gesture towards the outside offices, and Marcus nods in disappointment and contemplates on whether he should ask you to dinner some other time. You never give him a chance to follow-up though.

“How about take-out at my place?” You stand up and smile when you see his eyes beam with excitement as he fixes his tie and motions towards the door.

“Lead the way doctor.” You flush under the title and walk ahead so he doesn’t notice the obvious effect he’s having on you. You glance at Marcus every now and then as you make your way out of the building and towards his car.

You chat about random things as he drives through the busy streets, and you feel your heart skip a beat when he says something scandalous about your favorite Impressionist artwork, not because of the comment but because of the way he winks at you as he slides his hand to your thighs and nudges them to let you know he was just joking. You hope that Marcus asks for your number by the end of the night, maybe even invite you to dinner again, because if you’re being honest, it’s been a while since you met a decent guy and he’s been checking all of your boxes all day long.

Kind. Intelligent. Hard-working. Funny. And of course, attractive. There was something about the way he smiles and you kept on replaying the moment he hid you behind him and continued to ask if you were alright.

“What do you mean you don’t like Bal du moulin de la Galette? It’s one of the most magnificent paintings out there. Best of Renoir’s if you ask me.” You unlock the door and switch on the lights, throwing your coat and bag on the wall before telling Marcus to make himself at him. He takes his jacket off and hangs it as well, turning around to continue his argument.

“Listen, I’m just not a crowd kind of guy. I’m more of a Paris Street, Rainy Day man okay so-”

“Why am I not surprised by that?” You laugh as you bring him a cup of water, hoping you were being subtle as you continued to check out the gun resting in his holster. Shaking your head, you take your phone out again and tell him that it’ll take you a few minutes to order pizza since neither of you can make up your mind.

Marcus looks around when you walk away to place the order, his eyes taking in the three bookshelves behind your couch. It’s almost as if the office space wasn’t enough so you had to make more room for all of your textbooks and novels. Maybe it was the other way around…

He takes a sip of water and glances to the side, instantly choking on the liquid when his eyes zero in on the three watercolor paintings hanging above your television. Marcus blinks rapidly and rubs his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things. He approaches the wall and looks between the three artworks, unable to tear his gaze away. He notices new details every time he focuses on a different corner of each painting, and his pants suddenly feel uncomfortable when he shifts closer.

“Pizza will be here in thirty-ish minutes and-” You almost drop the phone when Marcus jumps back and almost trips over his own feet. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” When you walk closer and see the blush creeping down his neck, you can’t help but giggle and glance at your paintings, almost as if you were taunting him into commenting on your choice in decoration.

“These are...interesting.” Marcus avoids looking at them when you stand next to him, merely pointing to the side as he looks at you.

“Oh no...here we go. I know what that means. You don’t like them?” You tilt your head to the side and hold back from smiling when he takes a long sip of water before he sets down the glass.

“N-no no, that’s not...I didn’t mean- I just...it’s a bold choice.” His stutter makes you laugh even harder and you apologize when his blush deepens. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s always really funny when people come over because I get all kinds of reactions but you’re definitely the first guy that doesn’t call me a slut because I have pornographic paintings hanging in my living room.”

“Why not? The Dutch lords and the Italian merchants did it, why can’t you?” Marcus is almost offended by the remark and he forgets all about the awkwardness of the paintings when he sees you nod aggressively in agreement.

“Exactly!? Why is a guy allowed to hang an Odalisque in his home but I can’t hang some BDSM scenes?” You take the glass from the table and ask him if he wants more. Marcus shakes his head and quickly attempts to fix himself through his pants before you return.

“So you like them then?” You lounge on one chair and wait for Marcus to sit on the couch before you ask him.

“It’s a different aesthetic I think, and it somehow goes well with your bookshelves. Something about textbooks and nude paintings depicting sex just goes together...can’t explain how. And kudos to the artist too! The brushstrokes, the layering, the complementary colors...the scenes and positions are so natural. They’re perfect combinations. Did you pick them or did you commission them?”

“Oh I commissioned two of them. The third was just too good to not order. I’ll ask you this then, which ones do you think I commissioned?” Marcus glances to the canvases again and grows quiet for a few moments, his eyes switching from one painting to another before he meets your gaze.

“I think you commissioned the two on the left.”

“Why?” You try to hide how impressed you are by how he correctly figured you out, almost cringing when the question leaves your mouth before you could stop yourself. As much as you enjoy where this conversation was going, you really hope this wouldn’t lead to some misogynistic response on his part. Just as Marcus is about to respond, the doorbell rings and you tell him you’ll be right back.

Marcus thanks the heavens that the pizza arrives because he isn’t sure how he could respond to that question without accidentally giving his train of thoughts away. When you come back with plates and napkins, Marcus thanks you and proceeds to separate the pizza slices.

“It was the closest I could get to owning something that resembled the area I study.” You say through chewing and Marcus furrows his eyebrows, silently asking you to elaborate on your comment.

“Nudity I mean. I can’t afford sculptures so I settled with these.”

“They are beautiful. And the positions are-” Marcus stops abruptly when he realizes that his inner monologue just rolled off of his tongue.

“Go on, what were you going to say?”

“I- uh, I just think that the positions are intimate. And they become more intimate the longer you look at them.” He chews faster when you nod and take another slice of pizza.

“You have a favorite?” You ask and pretend you aren’t paying attention to every single word he says. You get the sense that he has a lot to say about the paintings but is choosing to hold back so you don’t get the wrong idea about why he is having dinner with you in your apartment after only knowing you for a few hours.

“Definitely the middle one.” His answer surprises you, especially because the one on the right has handcuffs and you genuinely thought he’d be into that because of his line of work.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh...I- this might sound weird but I think the scene is intense and- and close? Private? I’m not sure what it is I’m trying to say but the fact that she’s completely nude except for the panties around her thighs while he’s fully clothed and is focusing on her pleasure is- it’s intimate. And the hand on her back is a mixture of dominance and care, like he’s letting her know that she has his undivided attention but she has to behave for him.” You’re not sure when exactly you stopped eating and you clear your throat when you realize that Marcus was looking at you to gauge your reaction.

“Y-yeah that...ahuh.” Something about the way he says the word ‘behave’ twists your insides and you immediately stand up and head to the kitchen, whispering something about needing to wash down the food with something. Marcus eats quietly and hopes he hasn’t just made things even more awkward. When you come back and hand him a glass of red wine, Marcus relaxes and continues to eat.

“Have you ever drawn something like this?” You shake your head as you take a sip of the wine, laying against the back of the couch and crossing your legs.

“I wish. Human anatomy is so fascinating I think. I sometimes get this adrenaline rush when I look at the far right one and I tell myself that I’ll sketch all the risque and open positions I can think of but then I remember how long it would take me to finish one piece and I- I don’t have time for that sadly.”

“You can always start out with simpler ones? Maybe solo pieces, and move up from there.” Marcus mirrors you and sits back with the wine glass in his hand.

“Yeah, but I just love this kind of genre so much. It needs to be passionate, and sexy and out there you know.” Marcus smiles at the energetic response, feeling much more relaxed now that he’s had a cup of wine and found chatting about your choice in decoration less awkward.

“I get you. It’s why that lifestyle is interesting to so many people. The whole dynamic, whether we’re talking about the figures in the scene or actual partners, is based on that trust. You- you have to create that sense of trust and comfort for the scene to be enjoyable...pleasurable. It’s not as easy as some think it to be. As a Dom, you have to be aware of your partner at all times and the effect you have on them. And the same goes for a Sub too. You need to ensure that your Dom knows how much trust you put in them and the level of dedication that’s going into the scene. Both parties are depending on each other and it’s- it’s amazing.” Marcus smiles when he notices the intensity swimming in your eyes and he gives you a few seconds to collect your bearings before he asks his next question.

“Would you draw something as intimate as that?” He breaks the silence and watches your train of thought come and go.

“Would you?” You throw the question right back at him, holding in a breath when you see him lean forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I would...but only if I have the right model.” Marcus doesn’t know where all of this is coming from but he can’t find it in himself to break whatever bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You’re silent for a few moments, long enough for Marcus to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s crossed the line.

But then you’re smiling at him mischievously, chugging down the rest of the wine before standing up and heading towards the hallway.

“I have an easel and some 16x20 papers lying around...I hope you don’t mind working with chalk.” You throw back at him before you walk down the hallway and Marcus has to give himself a quick pep talk before he follows you. He slowly makes his way into your bedroom and stands at the doorstep until you allow him to come in.

“I think the lighting is best in this corner but you’ll be the one working so sit wherever you prefer.” You bring over a chair and set it in front of the easel before you grab the large box of supplies and pull out all the chalk sticks that you have. Marcus nods in silence as he pushes the easel closer to your bed and begins to choose which of the chalk sticks he wants. There is a variety of shapes and sizes, and he’s not sure if he should start out bold or if he should ease himself into this. It’s been a while since he’s drawn a model and he really doesn’t want to screw up, especially because it is you.

Marcus is so busy preparing his workstation that he doesn’t notice you stripping off your clothes. You keep your eyes on him and find the little scrunch he does with his eyebrows when he focuses on something endearing. Taking a deep breath, you take off your bra and panties before laying on the bed and getting in a comfortable position. Your movements are minimal, and you stretch out your legs in wait for him. You fight the part of you that’s yelling at you to cover yourself and keep your focus on him to gauge his reaction.

“Pose however you want and we can work on the postures once we-” The words die in his throat as soon as he looks up from the easel and sees your state of dress, or lack thereof. The thick chalk stick he’s holding between his fingers snaps in half and breaks the blanket of silence that fell on the room. He visibly gulps and doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes trail down your form slowly before they return to look into your dilated ones. Marcus knows for a fact that the image of your heaving chest and hardened nipples will forever be etched in his mind.

“I- uhh, are you...c-comfortable?” He hates how much he’s stuttering and you smile at him when you notice how he is focusing on the wall behind you and not you.

You look around for a few moments, grabbing a couple of pillows and placing them behind your back before you stretch out one leg and bend the other one to your chest. Marcus almost chokes on his breath when he sees how open you are being with him but he says nothing and turns his attention to the blank piece of paper underneath his hand.

“I’m ready.” Your voice brings him out of his stupor and he nods briefly as he tries to reason with himself. He cannot draw you unless he looks at you. But he is well aware of the hardening predicament he’s currently suffering from and he’s sure you probably noticed by now the effect you were having on him.

“I won’t tell you how to do your job Agent, but artists usually have to look at the models they’re drawing to...you know, draw them.” Marcus rolls his eyes at the teasing remark, briefly glancing at you with a raised eyebrow before he begins to softly outline the shape of your shoulders. His cock twitches in his pants and he tries his hardest to not squirm too much in his seat. But every time his eyes move towards your nude form laying not five feet away from him, he silently curses himself and pretends he’s fine and that he isn’t imagining pushing you down and shoving his tongue deep into your wet cunt.

“Are you usually this quiet when you’re sketching, Agent Pike?” Something about the way you’re addressing him makes him clench his jaw tightly and he unintentionally whispers a little louder than he intends in response.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your giggles let him know that you heard his remark and he is sure his face is growing a deeper shade of red but he shrugs his shoulders and ignores your obvious amusement. Marcus swallows the lump in his throat as he shifts his focus below your neck, parting his lips when he notices the tilt of your head from his peripheral vision as he ceases all movement and continues to stare at your chest.

“Oh sorry, is my arm in the way,” you lower your arms and move them behind you to support your weight, never breaking eye contact with him as you rock your bent leg back and forth and give him a full view of your most intimate parts.

Marcus is almost shaking in his seat at the sight of your breasts, unaware that he’s harshly rubbing the chalk stick with his thumb the more your leg sways to the side and reveals the outer folds of your pussy.

“P-perfect, thank you.” He whispers and returns to the sheet in front of him, biting into his lower lip as he rolls the chalk across and sketches the curves of your breasts. For a moment, he forgets what he is doing and narrows his eyes at the shapes in front of him before he smudges the black material across to shade in the skin. He looks back and forth for a couple of minutes until he’s happy with the shading of your body.

You marvel at how he’s managing to keep it together for this long when all you can think about is begging for him to fuck you into the mattress. You thought it would be easy for him to break but ever the gentleman, he takes the task seriously and tries his hardest to not dwell on your skin for longer than necessary.

A thought comes through your mind and you smile to yourself as you shift your bent leg to the side and move the other one until it falls from the side of the bed. You stare at him and hope this is what finally does the trick. And you don’t have to wait for too long because the next time Marcus looks at you, he takes a double-take and doesn’t bother to hide how he’s only focusing on the skin between your thighs.

“I thought it would be easier for you, you know. Easier access and everything.” You’re not sure what you’re going on about but you can tell that it’s taking every ounce of control in his body to not pounce on you. You hold your breath when Marcus stands up and meets your eyes, and you think this is it. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But then he’s freeing the paper from the easel and moving towards you, his expression never once giving his plan away. You gulp when he kneels at the foot of your bed and sets the paper between your thighs.

“You’re right, easier access,” Marcus says as he brings the chalk down on the paper and sketches your thighs, not bothering for propriety as his eyes zero in on your slit. You know you’re wet and you can feel slick easing down your folds but you don’t move a muscle, watching him as he expertly outlines your skin before he rubs the chalk with his thumb to shade the area again.

“It’s not quite how I want it…” His remark makes you shiver and you’re about to beg him to forgo the sketch when he leans forward and nudges your legs apart, perhaps a little carelessly, before he collects your arousal with his middle finger and swipes it across your folds. You’re shocked by the turn of events and barely hold back from moaning as he dips the clean finger into your pussy and rubs your walls for a few more seconds, his soft brown eyes turning dangerous as pushes his finger a little deeper and bites his lower lip when he feels you clenching around him. Marcus turns his attention back to you, his jaw tensing when he sees sheer bliss etched on your expression. Your little gasps are music to his ears and just as he feels your hips moving against him, he pulls his hand away.

You watch him like a hawk as he inspects his finger, gasping when he smudges at the chalk on the sketch to create darker shades around your center.

“Hmm, that’s more like it.” Marcus turns to you and smirks when he sees your parted lips turn into a frown.

“Do you not like it?” He feigns ignorance and raises an eyebrow when your frown deepens as you move back into your pillows. You lean back but continue to hold his gaze as you part your thighs and lazily stroke your cunt. Marcus slowly puts down the paper and chalk onto the floor and stands up just as you begin to pinch your nipples.

“Please…” Your whispered plea shoots straight to his cock and he laughs when it turns into a whine once he makes his way to the bathroom in your room. He says nothing as he quickly washes his hands and dries them before moving back and standing next to your bed.

You don’t stop touching yourself, hoping the needy sight of you is all the push he needs to take what he wants.

“What’s your safeword doctor?” Marcus keeps his hands in his pockets as he trails his eyes down your shivering body. He’s itching to touch you but he remains still and waits for confirmation that you do, in fact, want this as much as him. A part of him knows that the two of you should probably slow down and perhaps discuss whatever this is before you go any further. But it feels right being here with you. And he doesn’t want to give it up just yet.

“J-Jasper.” Your voice breaks when you see the hunger swimming in his eyes and you shift to the center of your bed as Marcus kicks off his shoes before taking off his socks.

“Hmm.” Marcus hums as he takes off the holster from his belt and quietly places the gun on your nightstand. When he turns back and sees you watching the gun and increasing your movements, he groans down at you before walking around the bed.

“Maybe another time baby...when you and I are a little more acquainted with each other.” You flush at the implications behind his words and nod at him. You watch as he begins to roll up his sleeves and your anticipation grows with each inch of skin he reveals.

“You look so pretty sweetheart, all needy and desperate for my touch. Do you want to cum baby?” Marcus asks teasingly and you nod frantically as you begin to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Nuh uh, use your words. I’ll let it go this time but from now on, you use your words if you want something from me.” His tone is less gentle and your inner walls spasm at the thought of hearing that same commanding voice telling you to get on your knees for him.

“S-sorry yes...yes please. I- I want to cum, please.” Marcus smiles in amusement as he steps closer to the bed until his knees touch the mattress.

“Good girl. Now, if you really want to cum, then you better come here and suck me off. Be a good girl for me and show me what that sweet fucking mouth of yours can do.” His chest puffs out proudly when he sees how quickly you’re moving to please him. You lay on your stomach and palm him through his pants, moaning along with him when you find him hard and ready for you.

“May I undress you?”

“Go on sweetheart, take what you want.” Marcus caresses your cheek as you excitedly unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn’t dare look away as you shove his pants down his thighs before leaning forward and nuzzling your nose into the bulge of his boxer briefs.

“Fuck baby, are you trying to kill me?” You giggle and shake your head in response, purposely rubbing his length with your nose just before you feel his fingers combing through your hair and tugging on it.

“Remember sweetheart...bad girls don’t get to cum. Stop your teasing before I shove my cock down your throat.” Marcus pulls on your hair harshly and groans when he sees you smiling up at him.

“Is that a promise Agent Pike?” You know you’re pushing his buttons and don’t hold back from gasping his name as he rolls you onto your back and aggressively pushes his boxer briefs down far enough to free his cock. He’s not really a vain man but seeing you lick your lips and inch closer to him as you stare at his hard dick makes him just a little cocky.

“Go on baby, open your mouth. Part those pretty fucking lips for me.” Marcus pats your lips softly and shivers when you respond to him right before you shut your eyes and wait for him to give you his cock.

“Yes sir.”

His knees buckle for a second the moment you take his tip into your mouth and suck on it. Marcus is torn between throwing his head back to enjoy the softness of your mouth and keeping his eyes on you as you suck on his cock. He leans forward and bites his cheek when you relax your throat and take more of his cock down your throat.

“P-part your legs for me baby please. Let me- oh fuck, your mouth is made of magic sweetheart. Let me- let me see how wet that pretty cunt is.” Marcus is already breathing heavily and he furrows his eyebrows in focus, not wanting to end this night early. You swallow around him a few times and hum when you feel his hand cupping your breasts while the other rests around your throat.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you try to take him down as deep as possible just as you part your thighs and begin to play with your pussy. Marcus groans and swears above you as you work him expertly and he can’t hold back from pushing the palm of his hand a little harder on your throat. He can feel his cock passing across your pharynx and moans your name over and over again when he looks down and sees drool rolling down your cheeks.

“Ahh fuck oh god, s-sweetheart you’re a fucking dream. W-where have you been all my life?” Marcus continues to kneed at your tits, but when he gets a little irritated when he sees your fingers rubbing your clit. Without warning, he leans forward as far as he can and slaps your hand away, replacing it with his own and biting his cheek when he finds you soaking.

“Shit baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” You hum around him and twitch in surprise when you feel two of his thick fingers pushing past your wet folds and into your cunt. You’re already so close to coming from his teasing and you whimper when he nudges your thighs apart aggressively.

“Keep those legs open for me baby. Shit, the smell of you is fucking intoxicating. Fuck, that it’s, get on your hands and knees for me.” Marcus moves away and silences you with one look when you start to whine and reach for his cock.

“Unless you want to call it a night, you’ll get on your fucking hands and knees for me. Shit baby I’ve wanted to shove my tongue in that pussy as soon as you stripped for me.” He never breaks eye contact as he kicks away his pants and briefs before he makes quick work of his shirt. You quickly turn around and bite into your wrist as you get on all fours and try to look at him through your elbow. You reach down and ease two fingers into your cunt as you take in his broad shoulders and lean form. You swear his muscles flex the longer you stare at him and when you finally look at him, you’re a little embarrassed at being caught openly ogling him.

“Look at you, like a bitch in heat.” Regret rolls off of him as soon as he registers what he just said. An apology is on the tip of his tongue but then you’re arching your back and shifting closer to him, giving him a show as you curve your knuckles to try and hit that sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh aren’t you the prettiest sweetheart in the world.” You moan his name when he caresses your back and kneels behind you, laying soft kisses across your back as he palms and lightly smacks your ass. Marcus removes your hand away slowly but not before licking your fingers and humming around them as the taste of you fills his mouth.

“Marcus please...I- I need you inside me.”

“What do you need from me? You want my tongue and fingers? Or do you think this cunt is ready to take my cock?” Marcus nips at your skin and pushes a hand on your lower back when you try and move away from him.

“W-whatever you want...just- need to feel you inside me. I don’t care, please. Oh fuck...please.” You squeal when Marcus spreads your cheeks apart and spits on your slit right before licking across your cunt. You fist your hands into the sheets and bite down on your wrist when you feel his nose nudge at your entrance as his tongue flicks your engorged clit.

“Good answer sweetheart,” you hear him whisper just as he kisses across your folds and dips his tongue into your core. You’re already shaking with need and rock back against him, hoping he’d end your agony and give you his fingers as well. Marcus is losing his mind and he tries his hardest to focus on pleasuring you. But it’s so hard to hold back when you’re whimpering at his touch and shoving your pussy in his face to get more friction.

“Stop moving,” Marcus growls against you, and you cry out his name when his palms land on your ass cheeks three consecutive times before he rubs the reddening skin.

“Oh god, your tongue feels so good Marcus. D-don’t stop, please. I want to cum, l-let me cum. You’re so fucking- ahh s-shit.” You think you feel him smile against you as he pushes two fingers into your pussy but you can’t be sure because you suddenly feel full. Fuck, and it’s only his fingers.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He slowly parts you with his fingers and groans when he feels you squeezing his fingers. When you try to move against him again, Marcus slithers his hand across your back and grabs your neck, pushing your face into the bed as he leans over to whisper in your ears.

“You’re being such a bad girl tonight. I won’t give you another warning baby. Move again and I won’t fuck you.” You shiver when you hear his hoarse voice on your ears, grasping the pillows as hard as you can when he pushes his fingers as deep as possible and curls his knuckles.

“N-no please...I’m s-sorry- ahh gahd I’ll stop. I’ll stop.” Marcus is pleased with the effect he’s clearly having on you and almost gives in. But he wants you to cum before he takes you. From the looks of it, you aren’t looking for anything gentle, and with how hard he is, has been for the entire day, he doesn’t have the self-control to be anything but rough.

“Good girl...sweet fucking girl.” You force yourself to remain immobile as you feel him reaching deeper and applying more pressure on your spongy walls. The hand on your neck moves to your back and massages your heated skin. It takes you a while to realize that he’s reenacting the paintings in your living room and the thought shakes you to your core. Before you can even warn him, you feel a familiar pressure growing in the depths of your stomach and your heart hammers in your chest as you lose yourself to the sudden swelling sensation. You gasp his name over and over again as you cum around his fingers, and Marcus fists his hand in your hair when he feels you shuddering beneath him.

He’s shocked at how quickly you unravel at his ministrations and he doesn’t look away as he brushes his thumb against your clit and watches your body fight to not move away from him.

“M-Marcus wait- I...too much.” You can barely form a coherent sentence, let alone a thought, and you bite into the sheets when you feel his scruff scratch your skin deliciously as he licks off your juices.

“Use your safeword sweetheart and I’ll stop. But you came without asking so now I have to punish you...fuck, you taste as good as you smell baby, shit, maybe even better.” Marcus slows down but continues to move his digits across your tightening walls and when you say nothing, he sits up and twists his hand, waiting for your breathing to slow down before he begins to fuck you with his fingers.

“Oh oh f-fuck I- Marcus M-Marcus oh god...yes please fuck ahh I- I’m…” You try to warn him but he doesn’t slow down once, continuing his assault on your abused cunt until he feels you tightening around him again.

“Beg!”

“Can I- oh god, can I cum? Please fuck, I- I can’t s-stah ahh fuck.” You reach around and dig your nails into the hand fisting in your hair. You try to warn him again of what’s about to happen but he doesn’t give you a chance, picking up the pace just as he curves his digits and rubs at your sensitive spot.

“Drench me baby.” It’s all you need to fall over the edge again and your vision whites out as you convulse around him. Marcus smiles proudly when you listen to his command but his expression changes to one of awe when he feels you gush around his hand and wet his arm and thighs. He doesn’t stop once, completely captivated by the sight of your juices flowing around him so easily. When you try to move up the bed, Marcus lets go of your neck and pushes down on your lower back to keep you still. The damp spot beneath you is growing and something primal takes over Marcus. He wants nothing more than to soak the entire bed.

But he snaps out of his haze when you cry out his name and beg him to slow down. He looks at you as he gradually comes to a halt but keeps his fingers in your pussy. Marcus massages your muscles as he eases his wet fingers out of you and carefully maneuvers you until you’re laying on your back. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness and almost jump away when you feel his tongue passing across the skin of your thighs. When you finally have enough mind to look at him, you’re taken aback by the sheer bliss written on his face as he closes his eyes and cleans you up. Your eyes widen in horror and embarrassment when you look at his glistening skin and you call for him shyly to grab his attention.

“I-I’m so sorry...I- I’ve never-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and the fact that I’m the first to make you squirt...best feedback I’ve ever gotten.” Marcus cuts you off as he licks at his forearm and fingers before he sits up behind you. You find his gaze much more intense than before and you hide behind your arm to avoid it.

“Marcus, stop.” He laughs at your sudden shyness and leans over to pull your arms away from your face.

“Please baby, don’t hide from me. Please.” You feel exposed underneath him and it’s a stupid thought considering what the two of you have been doing so far. But something about the way he’s staring at you with those deep, brown, soulful eyes makes you want to hide under the sheets. But instead, you take his hand and pull him close until he’s flush against you.

“K-kiss me.” You watch as his expression intensifies just as he leans forward and molds his lips with yours. You expected him to be rough but the way he parts his lips and allows you access to his mouth leaves you breathless. His scruff and mustache heighten the sensation and you instantly shove your tongue in his mouth when he melts against you. You hum when you finally taste yourself on his tongue and Marcus growls as the kiss grows more desperate. Just as you run out of breath, Marcus pulls away and holds back from smiling when you chase after him.

“Sweetheart, c-can I have you?” You’re amazed by how he’s still asking you if you want to do this even after the events of the past hour or so.

“Yes, please.” You respond as you push him off to resume your previous position again. Marcus feels his cock harden at the sight of you on your knees for him. But the moment shatters into a million pieces when he looks down and realizes that he doesn’t have any condoms.

“Fuck.” He hisses and begins to move away when he feels your hands reach for his thighs to stop him.

“What? What is it?”

“I- I didn’t think this would...I don’t have any condoms baby.” You stare at him for a few seconds before you break the silence and hope he doesn’t think any less of you. “I was tested after the last time and I’m clear. A-are you?” Marcus pins you with his eyes as he nods along. “I’m clean too...and, it’s been a while.” He hates to admit that last bit but he wants you to know that this, whatever it is, is serious.

“Same.” Your answer surprises him and he’s about to ask how that’s possible but forgets the question when you shift closer to him and dig your nails into his thighs to grab his attention.

“Fuck me.” The vulgar request sounds so pure rolling off of your tongue and Marcus pushes your knees wide open and settles between them. You continue to stare at him with hunger in your eyes as he strokes his cock a few times before he slides it across your wet slit. You’re already so sensitive from earlier but you can’t care less because you’ve only wanted to feel him inside you for the better half of the day. Marcus bites his lower lip and grasps your hips with one hand as he positions himself against your entrance and slowly pushes past your wet folds. He feels your walls already clenching around him and he hesitates for a moment as he moves his hands across your back to try and get you to loosen up.

“F-fuck...relax sweetheart. Relax for me please. I- I don’t- oh god, h-how are you this tight?” Your walls flutter around him when his hoarse, almost pained voice sounds through the room. “You’re doing so good baby, taking my cock in that pretty little cunt. Fuck, that’s it. Let me in sweetheart...could make you feel so good. Shit, that’s it.” Marcus cooes above you as he feels you slowly sucking him in. You sigh heavily when he finally sheathes himself completely inside you and it’s not until a few moments later that you realize he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Marcus, m-move. Fuck, just- move.” Your impatient groans make him twitch inside you and the two of you hiss when his hips jut forward at your gasped requests. His hands hold onto you a little harshly, squeezing the skin of your hips and making you giddy at the thought of seeing those bruises the following day.

“Just wait...please baby I- I don’t want to hurt you. You feel so fucking good around me and- and I...oh fuck, f-fuck...squeezing the shit out of me. Please I-”

“Fuck. Me.” You turn your head around enough to look at him and find the sight of his sweaty forehead and furrowed eyebrows intoxicating. He can sense your eyes on him and reluctantly looks down at you when you pronounce those two words, watching as you pierce him with a harsh gaze as you roll your hips against him.

“I- are you…”

“Fucking please...take what you want.” The desperate tone of your voice breaks him and he pulls away until the tip of his cock is nudged in between your folds before he snaps his hips forward aggressively.

You shut your eyes and cry into your pillows as Marcus lets go and pounds into you. He’s no longer trying to hold back and you feel proud of the effect you have on him. Thinking back to the past hour, you realize that Marcus was going out of his way to control himself and not hurt you. But with every brush of his cock against your inner walls, with every groaned swear word and whispered affirmation, you can’t help but beg for him to fuck you harder. To take you like a crazed man. Because now that you’ve had a taste of what he’s capable of, you don’t want him to ease up on you.

“Shit baby, you’re perfect. Fucking perfect. Your cunt is begging for my cock sweetheart. Can you feel how deep I am? How deep this tight pussy is sucking me in?” Marcus nudges your knees a little farther apart as he plunges into you over and over again. You’re a moaning mess beneath him and as you try to reach back to hold onto his hands, Marcus lets go of your hips and grabs your wrists, using them as leverage to fuck you deeper.

You scream his name as his thrusts become relentless, the resonating sound of skin against skin reminding you of how sore you were going to feel for the rest of the week. You can’t really pay attention to what he’s saying anymore, choosing to focus on the way his dick fills you up completely and hits your special spot with precision. The thought of knowing that you’re at this man’s mercy and that he’s using you like he owns you makes you shudder and Marcus doesn’t realize you’re coming around him until he feels a pressure push out of you. He looks down and watches your cunt gushes on his cock and thighs again, the sight somehow even prettier the second time than the first.

He waits until you’re no longer convulsing in his arms before he thrusts his cock back into your pussy. Marcus leans down and wraps his arms around your front to bring you flush against his chest. Marcus brushes your hair aside and nuzzles into your neck as he begins to roll his hips against your ass, trying to drive his cock into you even further without hurting you. You reach around and pull on his hair when he bites on the juncture of your neck.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart.” The confession feels more intimate than anything he’s said to you thus far and you throw your head back and smile when his hands roam your front and settle on your navel.

“Marcus...please.”

“What do you need, baby? I’ll give you anything. Tell me...oh god, I- I’m so close.” Marcus kisses across your shoulder as one hand cups your breasts while the other descends to your clit. He feels you convulse around him but he doesn’t move his hand away, wanting to feel you cum one last time around his cock.

“I- I need you to cum for me...cum inside me. Fill me up baby...wanna feel you so deep inside me. Make a mess of my cunt. Please.”

“C-can you give me another?” He’s breathless, his pace faltering when he feels your walls squeeze around him tightly with every pass of his cock against your heated core.

‘I- I don’t think I can...too much baby.”

“Please, for me. Cum for me o-one last time...oh god, I’m close sweetheart. B-but I wanna cum with you. Please oh fuck- oh god, I- I’m fucking coming.” He growls into the crook of your neck as he rubs at your clit harshly, crying your name like a prayer as he feels you milk him dry. His thrusts are desperate and you pull on his hair harder than you intend when you feel his cum fill you up. Marcus can barely breathe as he shoots his seed deep in your pussy and feels you pulse around him. He continues to buck against you, the caveman mindset telling him to breed you and fill you up until you can’t take it anymore.

He stays motionless for a few minutes before he finally registers that you probably need to rest. As carefully as possible, Marcus pulls out and cradles your body against him as he lays you on your back. He looks down at you and smiles when he sees the mess he’s made between your thighs. He tries to get off the bed to bring you a cup of water and grab a wet towel when you reach out and pull him by his wrist.

“I need to clean you up sweetheart.” He tries to reason with you but you shake your head and pull harder on his hand so he could sit next to you.

“No just- come here. I need you. Please.” Marcus doesn’t have to be told twice. He lays down next to you and kisses your forehead when you cuddle into his arms. He draws circles on your shoulder and back when he feels your fingers play with his chest hair.

“Are you alright baby?” Marcus asks and pulls his head back when you hum a soft ‘yes.’ He searches your expression for any sign of discomfort, and when he finds none, he rests his head back again and lets you explore his skin.

“Hmm...did you know that hair was used in some ancient spells to ensure that the desired outcome occurred?” You break the silence after a while and Marcus furrows his eyebrows at you when you look up from his chest and meet his face.

“Uhh should I be worried Y/N?” He asks almost immediately and laughs when you panic and try to retract what you just said.

“Oh god sorry that- I didn’t mean...Jesus, I still need to work on my bedside manner.”

“I was kidding sweetheart. I actually enjoy listening to people talking about their interests, it’s a little calming. And no, I didn’t know that. What kind of spells are we talking about here?” You’re surprised by his response but say nothing and continue to follow the soft trail of hairs down his chest.

“Well, there are lots of curses that didn’t need hair but it was better if they were added...for efficacy and such. But the most common spells that required little curls like these were love spells, which technically are also curses but it sounds better when you say that it’s just a spell.”

“Are you trying to tell me something doctor?” Marcus can’t help but tease you again and he snorts when you sit up on your elbow and try to justify what you just said. He pulls you back into his arms and brushes your hair aside to take a better look at you.

“Oh no no, I just- I tend to think about this stuff at random times. Sorry. I swear I’m too much of a wimp to actually try anything. You never know if the desired outcome has any side effects...”

“No need to apologize baby. Besides, I don’t think you’ll ever need love magic with me.” The admission is out before he can stop himself and he cringes at himself, hoping that you don’t misunderstand him.

“Oh yeah, and why is that Agent Pike?” The hint of amusement in your tone lets him know that you didn’t mind teasing him back and he blinks a few times at the ceiling before he turns to gaze into your eyes.

“Well, you’re doing fine on your own being this amazing human being. You’re mesmerizing when you’re lecturing, you’re confident in your skills and knowledge, your intelligence is- I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface with the case today. And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen...we could work a bit on your art choices but-”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder and try to slither away from him but he’s too quick and wraps his arms around you before you can get off the bed.

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding...your art choices are the cherry on top.” Marcus nudges your nose with his and leans down to kiss you. He smiles when you moan beneath him. But the kiss is cut short when you push him away suddenly and narrow your eyes at him.

“You never told me how you knew which ones I commissioned.”

“Ugh no please, you’re going to think I’m a pervert.” Marcus falls back on the bed and tries to hide behind his arms.

“Oh yeah?” You slowly trail your hand down his stomach and wrap it around his cock. It’s all Marcus needs to lower his arm and look down to where you’re touching him. He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back when you lean forward and nip at his jaw.

“B-baby fuck...oh god, please. I- I need a few more minutes and-”

“Tell me, please.” You cut him off with a bite to the shoulder, giggling when he thrusts up into your loose hold to get more friction.

“I- I was picturing the two of us...fuck, re-reenacting those scenes and those two jumped out more...more than the third.” He can barely speak through the haze you’ve put him in, and moans your name when you reach down and fondle his balls just as you whisper in his ears.

“How scandalous of you Agent Pike!”

“Sweetheart, please.” Marcus whines for you, the arm around your back pulling you flush to him and giving him perfect access to your breasts. He wraps his lips around one nipple and softly sucks on it as you continue to stroke his cock.

“Hmm, I like the sound of you begging...baby. Tell me, do you by any chance have your handcuffs on you?” The question catches him off guard, and he pulls away to look at you, finding a different kind of fire dancing behind your eyes.

“Fuck…I- uhh, they’re in the car. W-wait where are you going?” Marcus regrets his answer as soon as you let go of him and jump off of the bed. He watches as you run to the bathroom without answering him, only to return a few seconds later with bright red handcuffs clanking between your fingers.

“To get my own set Agent. Like you said, you and I need to get acquainted.” You unlock them as you walk back to the bed and straddle his thighs. Marcus looks at you with adoration and softly nods at you when you silently ask him if you could cuff him to the headboard of your bed.

“I’m yours sweetheart, take what you want.”

Taglist (some aren't working):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @fan-of-encouragement @evelynseventyr

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike/reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal #yall don't understand how much I love this fucking character #he's literally the softest #and he deserves the world #ugh #anyway

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king-bito · 4 years ago

Text

Vanta Black is a butt

I’m sorry, this is my first Drabble or whatever this is, I didn’t proof read it, I don’t really know what my intention was here.. I’m not a writer, I do digital art, but there’s so little Shihai smut out there I thought I would add my bad writing to the small pile xD

I’m SO SORRY.

Pairing: Shihai Kuroiro x Reader

Characters are in their mid twenties.

Rating: Explicit

MINORS DO NOT INTERRACT

Warnings: Dub-Con, Predator/Prey Dynamic, Quirk use, Smut

It’s been a long day, it’s 10pm and you just exited the cinema alone, your friend, who decided to make the whole movie about kissing, making out, and blowing their newly acquired boyfriend, ditched you early in favour of going home with him.

Oh how wonderful it felt to be a third wheel. You’d resigned and accepted your fate, opting to take your time, grabbing a coffee at concession before leaving.

It’s Friday night and there’s still a buzz of nightlife, just barely starting to pick up. Luckily you lived nearby so you wouldn’t have to suffer atrocious cab fares, and the awkward conversations that you always felt cornered into.

You take a deep breath, finishing off the last of your beverage and tossing it into the trash and beginning your walk home, pulling together your jacket to ward off the cold bite of the night air.

————

It’s only 2 blocks from your apartment when you hear what sounds like distressed meows coming from a dark alley. Was it a cat? Fuck, it’s too cold on a night like this to just ignore it. You aren’t the bravest person, and dimly lit alleyways threw up about a dozen warning signals, but these small, infantile kitten meows had you falter and pause.

Biting your lip, you decide to suck it up. You can’t abandon a little kitty out here..

Oh how wonderfully gullible you are.

As you near a filthy dumpster with so many tags on it you can’t even make out a single letter, a cold breeze makes you shiver, it travels up your spine making you feel unsettled. For some reason the meows stopped when you began to enter the alley, and as you pull your arms around yourself for comfort to try and quell the fear, you peer around some stray boxes and trash bags, hoping to locate the abandoned animal.

You let out a gasp as something moves, you suppress a scream and tumble back against the brick wall, panting, heart beating rapidly.

There is nothing.

You swallow, you must have imagined it right?

Suddenly you feel something warm grab your wrists from behind, instinctively you try to pull forward but whatever is holding you is like a vice. Looking down you see pitch black hands wrapped firmly around your dainty wrists and then a low, whispering voice hits your ear.

“Hello little mousy~” Out from the dark brick behind you, a mans face with charcoal pigmented skin is pushing out from the darkness, his deep, dangerous tone terrifying and a little too provocative. Your first reaction is to bolt, and as you yank yourself away (purely at the mercy of this strange man in a wall letting your wrists go), you fall to the ground, turning to back yourself up against the opposite wall, resting on your now scraped palms. “W-what the hell?!” You stammer, taking in the sight before you.

Oh how cute.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, hoping to draw the attention of someone, anyone, nearby.

...

A deep chuckle cuts through the cold silence between you, and you watch as the head moves forward, more of his body emerging from the wall, and now, you get the chance to fully drink in his features. He’s handsome, well, what little you can make out in the low light against impossibly dark skin. His eyes are hooded and seductive, they study you with each breath you take. His lips are lightly pursed into a small smirk, they look perfect on his sharp jawline. His face is framed by a mop of thick silver hair that flicks out in an unruly manner over his cheeks and the back of his neck. The man is clad in a black coat, grey denim jeans, and a low cut v-neck tee, where you can make out his defined collarbones disappearing beneath the lapels of his long coat.

“Aww.. did I scare the poor little thing?” The man coos out gently, and the twisted smile he wears tells you very clearly this was all just fun cruelty to him.

“O-Of course you did! Who the fuck does tha-“

“Shihai” he interrupts you.

“What?”

“My name is Shihai Kuroiro, but you may call me Kuro.”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is.” You blurt out, getting yourself back to your feet and pressing yourself against the cold brick as if it would get you any further away from this..thing.

“You should. You will. Pretty thing like you couldn’t help but come to the pitiful little meows of a kitten, you didn’t even think, did you?”

“I-I…”

“I’m not even very good at making those sounds.. and yet you wandered all the way down an unlit alley, where oh, I don’t know…” Shihai steps forward and places his palms either side of your shoulders. He’s taller than you, lean, but sturdy in build, and his every languid movement was filled with its own strength and purpose. “...anyone could take advantage of you."

"I saw you in the cinema," He continued."you and your so called friend, she certainly had a good time, didn’t she?” He muses, leaning down so his wild grey-ish locks tickle your temple, his breath fanning over your neck as he spoke.

You can’t help but go red at the closeness, there was no doubt he was hot, he was very much your type and when was the last time you had a good fuck? Too long, that was for sure. But this guy was being a real creep! Not to mention scaring you half to death like some sort of twisted predator…

“Such a shame they didn’t invite you along with them.. then again, if they had, I wouldn’t have been able to get you alone like this… so cute, so flushed.. and my.. so easy.” He growls darkly, carding his fingers through your hair, and slowly curling his hand into a fist to grab a handful and yank gently. “Have some fun with me…” You knew this wasn’t an offer, but an inevitable demand, and against your quickly disappearing better judgement, you nodded meekly. Fuck it.

———————

The next few minutes are a blur, as you find yourself naked beneath Shihai, panting and mewling as his mouth works your nipple, sucking and nibbling while his hand massages and kneads your other breast. “K-...Kuro…” You gasp, arching your back and grabbing a fistful of his hair. You throw your head back and pant to the pulsing in your core, deft fingers of Shihai’s free hand thrusting in and out of you while curling them expertly.

The man is ravenous as he attacks that spongey spot inside you, his mouth hotly working up your neck and leaving an all manner of marks in his wake. You let out a guttural moan, writhing underneath his frame, pressing your chest to his and rocking your hips against his fingers, chasing your orgasm like a woman starved.

So Shameless

You weren’t quite sure how he got you to this room so quickly from the city street, no doubt it had to be some weird quirk that came with his abnormal allearance but you were hardly complaining once he stripped you, and himself down and practically threw you onto the bed to jump you.

“So beautiful.. so good for me, little mouse…” he coos, growling shortly after as he notices your body giving him telltale signs of your impending release. “Kuro.. please.. I-I’m..” You whine loudly as he pulls his fingers out of you abruptly, ceasing his administrations in full and repositioning himself above you. “Uh-uh-uh..~” Shihai keens, tutting before capturing your mouth in a lust filled kiss and pressing his tongue to your lips, demanding access. Your pitiful whine of protest offers him the perfect opening as he slides his tongue into your mouth and dominates you entirely, a free hand pushing your hips down to stop your pitiful bucking. “Mmmphhh~” You moan into his mouth, running your hands up and down his chest and ribs, feeling the muscles move and tense and admiring each contraction as he moves to line himself up.

“You only get to cum on my dick, understand~?” His voice is smooth like butter when he breaks the kiss, bringing his hand up to lick your ample juices from his fingers in a lewd display. He nearly moans when he tastes you, eyes fluttering closed as he savours your taste, slowly and teasingly sucking every digit clean. “Oh.. so delicious, little one. I’ll be sure to clean you up properly when we’re done…” He grins, sliding his tongue out of his mouth provocatively, causing you to whimper.

It’s only when you feel his hips move do you realise he had slowly been lining himself up with your dripping entrance, rolling them to push the tip of his leaking cock into your stretched hole, the movement drawing a long, loud moan from you. Fuck, you didn’t even get a good look at it in the heat of things, but fuck if it didn’t feel massive as it slowly stretches you out around the sheer girth.

Shihai hums contently, clearly holding back his sounds in favour of composure and control as he slowly, smoothly, sheaths himself into your heat. The stretch hurts, and is taking a little too long to grow accustomed to as you look up at the stunningly biz are creature above you. You raise a hand to his cheek, admiring his smooth warm skin and slight changes in shade as he grows hotter and hotter from the workout, and you offer the first gentle touch of the night to him, as re-assurance he can move, yes, but also an attempt to connect, and as his eyes dart to you’s, you swear you could see his cheeks reddening a little.

Shihai shakes his head and lowers himself down to bite and nibble at your neck, slowly beginning to rock his hips back and forth. “So.. so tight, you really are a sweet little thing aren’t you” he manages between thrusts that grow in intensity. “Fuck, you’re practically sucking me in, beautiful.” he grunts, a shudder racking his spine as you continue to touch him tenderly.

“A-ahmmm… Kuro!” You groan, breaths becoming an uneven pant, you lean back to give him better access to your neck and guide his hand up to your breast again as you start to move your hips in time with his, lifting your knees to let him hit deeper and deeper inside of you. “I wanna… mmmmphhhh! Shit.. I need to…” you feel the tightness building in your stomach.

The pace quickens and the new angle has him hitting that perfect spot inside of you. He’s bracing himself on one hand, and with his other, he’s squeezing and gently teasing your pebbled nipple beneath his fingertips.

“Hahn… gonna cum? Go on… you can do it. Cum all over my cock.”

You throw your head back again and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust until your walls clench and contract around his dick, making it twitch and pulse as you both reach your high, coming undone at once.

—————————-

Kuroiro takes surprisingly good care of you after multiple rounds of intense orgasms, he cleans you up with a warm damp cloth, feeds you, and gives you water before you damn near pass out in his bed. As he settles in beside you, scooting up to try and make you roll over so he can spoon you, you reach up to cup his cheek in your hand, your sleepy expression sweet and lazy. “...You’re still a creep..” You murmur gently, causing him to look at you with a little shock. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you cut him off before he can get a stupid cocky remark in. “...but this was amazing. Do you think next time we could start…. with an actual date?”

His mouth opens again, this time he’s speechless. “Wait.. r-really? You’d.. you’d like to…?”

“Shhhh…” you nod, smiling gently as you roll over and shuffle back into him.

What you’re too tired to notice, is the heat coming from his cheeks, ears, and neck. Shit, he thought if he could just remain in control he wouldn’t become a stammering blushing mess. You weren’t supposed to like him! Nor ask him out!

But you had to be a cute little sweetheart and flip the tables on his plan.

#shihai kuroiro #Shihai Kuroiro x reader #lemon #smut #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #vanta black x reader #first time doing this please go easy on me

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127-mile · 4 years ago

Text

The drug in me is you.

Pairing: Doll maker!Kun x female reader.

Genre: Strangers to lovers, doll making | Fluff, angst, mature content.

Warnings: This is NOT what a healthy relationship is, this is pure fiction.

Manipulation, obsession, explicit major character death, non-explicit mention of death, violence, blood, alcohol consumption, oral sex (fem. receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, slight dirty talk, protected sex, drug use (note that the reader is unaware of the drugs being used at first, Kun tells her later) + The sex happens before Kun starts using the drugs on the reader.

Plot: One night, you met Kun in a bar. Kun was handsome, kind, caring, intelligent but he was also obsessed with dolls. You thought it was funny, until he made you one of his many dolls. Fear not, you are not just any doll, you are his best creation.

Word count: +10k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day guys! This is part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by @du0tine. Please mind the warnings. Title from Falling in Reverse.

Tag list: @moondustaeil, @prettyjaems, @svchengss, @jaehyvnsvalentine, @xiaojunssmile

Chapter zero: his best creation.

It is said that the eyes are a window to the soul, but when they look at you, your eyes are glassy, it is impossible to read the slightest emotion, your soul is empty, your soul has been replaced by a void, by the nothingness. Yet, you smile. A smile that is hard to describe, it is not forced, but it is not genuine either. It's just there.

You look at yourself in the bedroom mirror, and you hardly recognize yourself. Your fingers rest on the choker that adorns your neck, and for a brief second, your smile wears off, and your eyes seem to clear, but it disappears just as quickly. The choker is in red satin, a heart-shaped pendant in the middle. A letter is engrave on it. K.

The alarm on your phone makes you jump, and you turn to the object on the nightstand. It's time for you to go downstairs for breakfast. Kun must already be waiting for you. You turn off the alarm, and leave the room. If the bedroom is warm, the hallways are cold, or maybe it is just the cold from the tiling under your feet creeping into your body.

The marble stairs shine under your passage, and you do not dare to put your hand on the railing, of fear of leaving a trace. The house is immaculate, pristine. Anyone entering the house unexpectedly would think that no on lives here, that this is just a show house. This is what you also believed the first time you came here. Everything is in its place. Everything is perfect, just like Kun.

You walk into the dining room, and you see Kun. He is seated at the table, his laptop where a plate should be, but you know that in the morning, he likes to work while you eat, so he can spend a little more time with you before going to work. And you appreciate that. At least, you think you do.

The chair creaks as you pull it away from the table, and Kun looks up from his screen. He takes off his glasses which he puts on the table, and he smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "Good morning, my love, how are you?" you hold out your hand for him, and he takes it to place a tender kiss on the back. "I'm fine. I missed you in bed this morning."

Kun nods, and he gets up from his chair to fill your plate with fresh fruits, and pancakes drenched in maple syrup, just the way he knows you like them. "I'm sorry, doll, I had some late work to finish." if you live for Kun, Kun lives for his work. It is sad, but that's how life is sometimes, but that does not mean he does not love you.

"Eat everything." he says, and you nod, picking up your fork. He takes your glass and pours some squeezed orange juice into it. He turns to a locked glass cabinet, and takes out a small bottle filled with a translucent liquid. He drops a few drops in the glass, and you watch him to it, your head cocked to the side. "What is that?" you ask, and he sighs.

"I told you before, it helps keep you a sweet little doll." you nod again, you seem to have heard that phrase once or twice before, even though Kun has had to remind you every morning for months now. But he doesn't mind, he likes to remind you that it is thanks to him that you are such a sweet doll. He kisses the top of your head, and you close your eyes at the contact.

"Am I your favorite doll?" you ask before stuffing a strawberry into your mouth. Kun sits down again, and he watches you for a second. "Of course. Of all the dolls I made, you are the one I love the most, you are my best creation."

Chapter one: finding the doll.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

You are surprised to hear a voice above the hubbub of music and conversations in the bar where you are. At first, you expect to find Taeyong grinning like an idiot, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he's been drinking ever since you arrived, but when you turn on your stool, you frown when you see a man you've never seen before. You tilt your head to the side.

"And why would I say yes?" you ask, and the man smile. He has two dimples that make him look a little more childhish, a thin layer of sweat sticks his hair to his forehead, but he is still handsome in the dimmed lights of the bar. The first two buttons of his shirt are open, and you can't help but glance at the sliver of skin. "The question is, why would you say no?"

You do not have an answer to that, so you nod and the man sits on the stool next to you. He calls out the bartender, and asks to put two glasses of whatever you were drinking. "My name is Kun." he says, turning to you, and he holds out his hand. Hand that you squeeze for a brief moment. "Y/n." he smiles once more. "Pleased to meet you."

"So what is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asks, and you shrug, sliding your index finger across the rim of your glass. "This is my brother's bar." you explain, and you see the colors disappear from Kun's face, and when he is about to open his mouth, probably to apologize, you smile. "I'm just kidding. My best friend got dumped, so I'm here to support him as he drowns his grief in overpriced cocktails."

Kun's shoulders relax, grinning. "What about you?" he brings the glass to his lips to take a sip, and he winces at the sligh burn of the liquid in his throat. "Terrible day at work, I needed to relax." he explains in a low voice. "It's true that being in a crowded bar that smells like sweat and cheap alcohol is the best way to unwind from a day at work." you say, looking at him above your glass.

Kun chuckles softly as he puts his glass back on the bar, he rests his fingers beside it, and immediately regrets his decision when he feels how sticky the bar is. "It's always better than being alone at home." he says, and you agree, altough you are more the type to relax in bed with music rather than in a crowded and noisy bar. You would never have entered this place in your life if Taeyong had not begged you to come with him for over an hour earlier.

"Tell me about you, Kun." you ask, finishing your drink in one go, and you turn on your stool to face him. "I work in my best friend's law firm, I have a dog, and I love reading." he speaks in a bored manner, and you bite the bottom of your lip so as not to laugh. "I'm not the most interesting person here." you shrug, putting your hands flat on your thighs. "That's true, but there must be more than that, come on Kun, don't be shy."

Kun seems to think about it for a minute or so, yes he has more than that, but he can't really afford to tell you, not during your first meeting. His idea is to have a good time, and why not bring a girl back to his house, not to scare anyone and end up in prison that same evening. "I have an obsession with dolls."

This time around, you can't contain your laughter, and Kun is not offended, this is what he was expecting. "Dolls? Like barbies, or porcelain dolls?" you ask after catching your breath, you appreciate his presence, you do not want to see him go so soon, so you have to look and sound interested. "Porcelain dolls, but they are different, they all have stories."

"Stories? What do you mean?" you tilt your head, and Kun turns on his stool too. His knees bang against yours, and you glide your gaze down your legs for a brief moment. "These are not just porcelain dolls you would find in a store, they all come to my house with a clear story, and it is up to me to make sure they end their lives peacefully, and happily." that's fucking weird. "I don't know if you are being serious, or if you are making fun of me Kun, and you know what? I'm not sure I actually want to know."

You do not know how, but you went from an odd discussion about Kun's obsession with dolls, to this situation. Pressed against the door of Kun's room, you pant while feeling Kun's lips on your neck, his teeth digging into your skin, his tongue soothing the burn right away. Kun's hands are everywhere, under your top, along your still clothed thighs, you do not know where to focus.

"You are so hot, doll." Kun whispers hotly against your ear, and you bite your lower lip. "Is that why you brought me here?" Because I remind you of a doll?" Kun's gaze meets yours and he smirks. "Perhaps." you roll your eyes, and before you have a chance to open your mouth, Kun drops to his knees, ignoring the burn of the carpet, and when you give him permission to continue, he busy himself by removing your pants and panties. He slips one of your legs over his shoulder, and he covers your thighs with hot burning kisses and bites.

Kun does everything he can to avoid the area you want him the most, and you begin to whimper impatiently. He laughs as he licks his last bite to soothe the pain, and he looks up at you. You look like a work of art, with your head thrown back against the door, your eyes half-open and parted lips. "What do you want, doll?" he asks, and you sigh. "I don't know. Everything. Give me everything Kun, don't be an asshole."

"Everything?" Kun asks, and you nod with vigor. "Alright, your wish is my command, doll." he kisses your ankle, and he brings his lips up close to your core, and he blows gently. The cold air makes you shiver slightly, and you close your eyes, resting one hand in Kun's hair, and the other on the door for stability, because as he slides a finger in between your folds, your knees buckle.

"You are so wet doll, and all because of a few kisses? Cute." you pull his hair lightly, and he growls. "Stop talking please." you mumble, and Kun shrugs his shoulders but with your eyes closed, you can't see him. Neither do you see him approach his face and replace his finger with his tongue. "Oh." that's all you can say before he lays his tongue flat against your clit.

You are convinced that Kun will spend the next few minutes teasing you, but he does not. He licks your clit with vigor, and you can't help but roll your hips for more contact, and his free hands keep your from moving too much, which make you whimper loudly. His mouth is hot, insanely so. He pushes a single digit into you, making you mewls, not expecting him to do so. "Such a good girl." he says, moving his face away to watch you lose yourself to pleasure.

"More, more, please." you whisper, and Kun obliges. A second, then a third finger join the first, and you bite your lower lip to cover your moans that are getting loud, and embarrassing, but Kun doesn't seem to agree with you. "That's what we are not going to do. I want to hear you." he says in a firm voice, slapping your thigh. You almost lose your balance, but he stops you from falling by resting his hand on your waist. His grip is strong, and you know you'll have bruises of the shape of his fingers for days.

You already feel so close to your orgasm, you can feel it, you can taste it on your tongue. Kun keeps stimulating your clit with his thumb while pumping his fingers in and out of you, your muscle tightens around his fingers and he loves the feeling of your hot, wet walls, so much that he feels himself throb in the confined of his jeans, he can't wait to put his cock to good use inside of you.

When you feel heat spreading through your body, Kun's fingers pull back and you whine. You feel empty, and you do not like that feeling, not with how good Kun's fingers made you feel. "No, no, why, I was so close." you sob, and Kun smiles when he sees a single tear run down your cheek, it is so beautiful to see how fucked out you look with only his fingers. "You will cum. Later. On my cock, doll." fuck. "If you are nice, I'll make you cum twice, how does that sound?" you nod, that's all you can do right now.

Kun puts your leg back on the floor, and when you lower your head to look at him, he slides his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of your juice, and you roll your eyes. "Kun." you are out of breath, and he straightens up before kissing you. He doesn't wait to get your permission before sticking his tongue into your mouth, and even though the kiss is sloppy, teeth clashing and salive gathering at the corner of your mouths, he puts his hands on your waist, to keep you upright because this simple kiss makes your legs feel like jelly, and he can feel it.

"Lie down on the bed." he orders, and you obey. You do not know how, but you get to the bed without tripping. Before lying down, you get rid of your last pieces of clothing before throwing them somewhere in the bedroom. You lie down, your head resting on Kun's pillows which smell of his perfume, and a mixture of sweat and soap, which is weirdly addicting, you think.

When you turn your head to look at him, you are disappointed to see that he is already undressed, but that's okay, you'll find another opportunity to touch his soft skin. He rummages in a drawer, and you see him walk up to the bed with a condom in hand, and without waiting, he climbs onto the bed to hover over you.

He places a quick kiss on your lips, and he begins to open the condom's packet, but you shake your head, resting your hands on his. "Let me do it." Kun nods, but he gasps when you push him to the other side of the bed to straddle his thighs. His cock is hard, the tip is red and leaking precum. You lean in, and run your tongue through the slit before swallowing the sticky liquid, all under Kun's hungry gaze.

"You drive me crazy." he groans, and you smile, perfect, you like that. You throw the condow packet on the floor, and before rolling it over his member, you lick the vein on the side from bottom to top, a groan snarling out of Kun's mouth. "Can I ride you?" you ask, while rolling the condom over his thick member. "Whatever makes you happy, doll."

You take his cock in your hand, and you nudge the tip over your entrance, you take a deep breath, and you ease the member gently. Kun's hands rest on your waist, and he gently helps you, and when finally you bottom out, he stays still. Yes, he wants to fuck you into oblivion, but he is also human, and he doesn't want to hurt you. At least not that way.

When you feel ready, you put your hands flat on Kun's chest and you roll your hips. "So tight, doll. You were made for me." Kun looks handsome from above, you think, looking at the way he bites his lower lip with every movements of your pelvis, the way his fingers tighten around your waist. But after a while, Kun starts to get impatient, and he plants his feet on the mattress to thrust harder into you.

"Oh fuck." you moan following the movement of his thrusts, but soon, you feel the burn in your thighs. You, who wanted to have a minimum of control, are already losing it as your legs fall asleep on either side of Kun's thighs. "Kun, Kun." you sob, your vision misted with tears once more. "Yes, doll, I'll take care of it." he pushes you onto the bed, and you wrap your legs around his waist when he enters you again.

He nestles his face in the crook of you neck, and he bites, hard. You close your eyes, a lewd sound coming out of your mouth and you throw your head back. Kun's thrusts are quick, strong, and deep, so much so that if you legs weren't secured around his waist, you would be pushed against the headboard. He is not holding back, and fuck you are grateful for it.

Kun sits up, and his hands grip the headboard to speed up his thrusting if that's even possible. His cock rocks against your sweet spot, and your orgasm crash over you without you even realizing it. You vision turns black, and you see stars for a moment as Kun growls when your walls tighten deliciously around his lenght. "Oh fuck, yes." he kisses you but fucked stupid like you are, you are unable to kiss back, all you can do is pant, and whimper at how sensitive you feel.

"One more?" he asks in a soft voice, which contrasts with the way he pounds into you. You are not sure you can do it, but you nod anyway, your body might hate you tomorrow, but it will be worth it. Despite everything, Kun opens his mouth. "What's your color?" he asks, and even though it takes a minute for you to figure out what he is asking, you speak out, in a broken voice. "Green, green, Kun." Great.

Kun doesn't know if he wants to cum, or if he wants to spend the rest of the night fucking you. It is so good, and at the same time, he wants to taste the sweet release he can feel creeping up slowly. He keeps thrusting, his knuckles turning white from the force with which he squeezes the headboard, and even his growls get louder. As for you, a flood of moans mixed with his name flows from your lips which he kisses, and bites hard enough that the skin breaks and a drop of blood flows before he licks it clean.

"Close, close." that's all you moan, and it's enough for Kun to understand. He nods, and one of his hands slides between your bodies to your clit, which he strokes with his thumb. You grab Kun's shoulders and dig your fingernails into the skin, and that's what seems to do, Kun cums in the condom. You feel it. You feel the hot cum against your walls even with the latex in between, and your legs start to shake with the intensity of your second orgasm.

Kun continues to thrust, slowly this time, riding his orgasm, but you are so sensitive that you shake your head. It is too much. "Stop, stop, please, I can't take it anymore." Kun obeys, and he stops his movements and he cages your face with his hands, being careful not to put his full weight on you. "It was perfect. You were perfect, doll." he whispers near your lips before kissing you for quite a while, and much more tenderly than before. And when he pulls out for air, he gets up from the bed to remove the condom and put it in the trash. You feel really empty, but ready to fall asleep.

When Kun returns to the bedroom with a damp cloth, he finds you asleep. You seem peaceful, so much that he doesn't want to wake you up and force you to go home, not that he wants you gone, so he doesn't. He puts on some sweatpants, and he lies down next to your after cleaning you briefly, and covering your naked body with a blanket, and he watches your for a moment before he too falls asleep, a smile on his face.

Chapter two: the morning after.

It is around 11am when you open your eyes. At first, you are lost. You do not recognize the sheets your are in, and you do not recognize the scent around you. The presence next to you is foreign, and it takes you two or three minutes to remembers. The bar with Taeyong. Your meeting with Kun. Kun! You spent the night with Kun, now you remember, and when you turn your head, you see a tuft of blonde hair coming out of the comforter.

Oh fuck, Taeyong!

You left the bar last night without telling him you were ditching him to go home with a complete stranger. You get out of bed slowly, ignoring the pain in your legs, and you find your pants neatly folded on what you supposed is Kun's desk, and you are definitely not the one who did that. Your top and lingerie are laid aside, and you wonder if all the one night stands are as kind and considerate as the sleeping man. But you doubt it. In your pants pocket you take out your phone, and you are surprised to see only two messages from Taeyong.

From Yong: I'm leaving with someone, don't wait for me. From Yong: Can you come get me? Pretty please?

The last message was sent less than twenty minutes ago, which means he must still be waiting for you, and probably with one hell of a hangover. You are glad you didn't drink more than two drinks last night. You put your clothes on, and before leaving the room, you find a piece of paper to write down your number, and a little note. "Call me." and you leave the room.

The problem is, you do not know where you are. You do not know which part of town he took you to, you were to busy cleaning Kun's tonsils with your tongue in the taxi to watch where they were driving you. All you know is that you are in a house, with marble stairs, and modern decor without a hint of dust around you. You go down the stairs, not daring to put your hand on the railing, and you wonder if Kun decided to illegaly enter a show house the night before.

Everything is clean, tidy. Everything is in the image of Kun, perfect. The front door is unlocked, which greatly simplifies the task of leaving like a thief. You dial Taeyong's number, and the boy answers immediately. "Where are you? I'm tired, I want to go to sleep." he says in a hoarse voice, and you look around. "I wish I knew, Yong." you walk down the street, at least until you find a street name. You are in a nice neightborhood, the kind you never go to, way too far from your comfort zone.

"What do you mean you don't know where you are?" Taeyong asks, and you roll your eyes. "I left the bar with a guy last night, and I don't know where I am!" you hear Taeyong giggle before growling, probably from his pounding headache. "Slut." you sigh, as you look around. You probably look suspicious. "You can talk, you did the same." you mumble, and you hear him say something to an unknown voice, so you take the opportunity to hang up to call a taxi, it's the only way for you to get home. Or at least to get to Taeyong, then you can figure it out together.

Chapter two and a half: Kun.

The following week, busy with work and with well, life, you stopped thinking about him, about Kun. You stopped thinking about the night you spent together, you stopped thinking about his hands, his lips, his scent, you just stopped. Work is mostly the cause, and also Taeyong who spends most of his time whinning about his ex partner, he is not recovering from his breakup, and it's tiring, really.

And when your phone rings, an unknown number appearing on your screen, you answer without a second thought. The perfect way to get you killed, Taeyong said once, but maybe one of your friends changed number and need something, you can't take the risk. But when you hear the voice, you do not recognize it. "Hello?" the silence is rather short. "Y/n, hello! How are you? Sorry I took so long to call, I was busy and didn't know if you actually wanted that." you frown, sitting on the sofa, the rerun of a show playing on the television. "I'm sorry, but who is it?"

"It's Kun?" the man says in an uncertain voice, and you remember. "Ah, Kun. Hi, I'm okay, and you, are you doing alright? Sorry for leaving last time, but my friend needed me." Kun makes a sound of aknowledgment before speaking. "Don't worry, I understand. I wanted to know if you wanted to meet?" you hesitate. You are not used of sleeping around with a man you met in a bar, so you are not sure if you really want to see him again. But also, why the hell not, you have the next week free of work, might as well make the most of it. "Yeah, why not."

"Do you remember the bar where we met? There's a café across the street, maybe we could meet up there later. Is around 3pm okay?" he asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Yeah that's fine with me. See you later." the man lets you know that he is excited to see you, and you hang up. You have a few more hours left, so you huddle once more in your blanket, and watch the television, wondering if going out is actually worth it.

Chapter three: How to make a doll: step one.

The meeting/date in the café is what changed your life.

You were not sure you wanted to see Kun, and yet, a month later, you are unable to part with him. There is something appealing about Kun, something highly addicting. He is kind, caring, smart and of course, he is breathtakingly beautiful with his dimples, soft eyes and honey-like voice.

The mere thought that one day he might not want you anymore is painful. You can't imagine your life without Kun, without his smile, without his kisses, without his hands that make you feel things that you've never felt before. And without his love, because Kun's love is amazing, it's like he has not limit to the love he gives, no matter what he receives in return.

When he tells you that he loves you, you feel like hearing it for the first time, every time. You have butterflies in your stomach when he looks at you, or when he talks about you like you are the eighth wonder of the world to his friends and colleagues. You are proud to be with Kun, because you know he could have had any girl, and yet, you are the one he decided to choose. The one he decided to love more than anything.

"Y/n? Come have a glass of water." you smile when you hear your name coming out of Kun's mouth, it's like hearing the most beautiful melody, the way it rolls on his tongue. And he is so attentive too, you think and you leave the living room to join him in the kitchen. He is sitting on a stool around the kitchen island, and he hands you a glass of water, which you take, smiling. "Thanks Kun." you say, and he smiles too, dimples in full display. "You are welcome, doll."

You take a sip of water, then a second, and you grimace. "What's wrong?" he asks, tilting his head. "I don't know, the water tastes weird." Kun shakes his head, and takes a sip of hiw own glass. "I don't feel it, it must be you. You stay too long without drinking, you forget the taste." when Kun says something, you take him at his word, so you shrug and finish your drink. "Sit down with me for a bit." he pats the stool next to him, and you settle down, your head immediately resting on the shoulder of your boyfriend who kisses your forehead.

You stay like that, in silence, for a few minutes before Kun opens his mouth. "How are you feeling?" he asks, and you frown. If he had not asked you the question, you certainly would not have realized the fatigue that suddenly fell on your body. Your eyelids are heavy, and you limbs feel numb, your mouth is dry, and movements around you seem to be slowing down. "I do not know." you whisper tiredly. "My poor little doll." Kun responds, without a hint of pity in his voice.

Chapter four: Bad doll?

This is not the only time the feeling of losing control of your body sets in. At first it's once a week, and now it's every morning, but you adjust pretty well to the side effects, and Kun is so nice to you when you feel bad, he takes care of you, he makes sure that you drink enough water, and that you eat enough food. He regularly returns from work at lunchtime to cook for you, and to remind you how wonderful you are, and how proud he is of you.

He gives you presents, but the one you prefer is the choker you never part with. You love the color, and the pendant reminds you that Kun is near you, even when he is not at home, and that's all you need. Time passes, and yet you do not realize it. You stopped responding to Taeyong, and even going to work. Kun said you did not have to go anymore, he may very well support the two of you with his job alone. No, you do not realize anything. You only see Kun, only hear Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. His name echoes like a mantra in your head.

Today, going down the stairs, you are surprised to not hear the slightest noise. When Kun is at home, he enjoys playing music on his turntable. He says that even though the sound is not as crisps there, it is much better, he can appreciate the music more, but now you can't hear anything. Not even the sound of his computer keyboard where he spends most of his time when he is not at the office.

"Kun?" you ask, poking your head through the living room door, which is empty and as clean as usual, if not a little cleaner. You walk into the kitchen, and you pout when you notice that he is not there either, but a note is stuck on the fridge door.

"My doll, my beautiful doll. I'm sorry, but I had to leave for work. I know I promised to take you to the movies, but a case we are working on must be finished today, the trial having been brought forward. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to cook for you, and I'm so sorry. You can cook for yourself, but please be careful with the knives. Remember to drink at least 5 glasses of water today. I have my phone if you need anything. I love you. Kun."

You silently read Kun's words and nod. It's a shame, you were excited to go to the movies. You really haven't been out of the house since moving in with Kun. At least you think you moved here. Kun bought you enough clothes to fill a full closet, and your mind is far too cloudy to think about the clothes you already own, and the apartment you were renting back then.

You do not know if it's because Kun is not here, or because you are too lazy to cook, but you are not hungry. You come out of the kitchen, and once in the lobby of the house, you look around. You do not know what you are supposed to do. Even though Kun leaves you alone to go to work pretty much every day, he still advises you to do certain acitivites, or you usually feel far too tired to do anything.

But today, you feel good. Still a bit groggy, but much better than usual.

A name suddenly comes to your mind, for the first time in months, and you frown. Your heart does a weird thing when you think of this person. Not the same as when you think of Kun, but differently. A certain warmth spreads through your body, and you realize that you actually miss this person. Taeyong. You know you were used to spend a lot of time together, and that you even decided to save your money to find a big apartment to live in together.

He forgot about me, you think.

But you do not realize that you forgot about him, not the opposite. But you are too lost in your own head to realize it. You walk up the stairs, being careful not to put your fingers on the white wall or the railing, and push the door to the room you share with Kun. The decor has changed since the first time you came here. Several pictures of you, and you and Kun together are on the walls, and your favorite color can be found in small touches on the satin sheets, on the curtains, and a few trinkets here and there.

You find your phone in the bedside table drawer, and when you try to turn it on, nothing happens. After so long, the battery must be dead. Finding a charger is not difficult, you just have to walk around the bed to Kun's place. You take it, and you return to the living room. For some reason, you do not like being in the room on your own, you feel like you are being watched, it makes you uncomfortable.

Once in the living room, you plug in the phone, and while waiting for it to turn on, you turn on the television. A serie is playing, and even though you do not understand it, you watch, your head resting on a pillow, and soon, you find yourself wrapped in your favorite blanket, ready to fall asleep. So much for feeling full of energy.

When you open your eyes, you are hardly surprised to see the living room bathed in darkness. It often happens to you, to close your eyes before realizing that night has already fallen. It takes a moment before your eyes get used to the darkness that is only broken by a lit bedsite lamp next to Kun. Kun who is seated on an armchair, his arms crossed against his toned chest. You sit up, smiling. "You are back."

Normally, Kun would smile. He would get up to give you a long, tender hug and ask you how your day was. But today, he doesn't. He looks tired, stressed and disappointed. It is indeed an emotion you have never seen on his beautiful face, disappointment. "What's wrong?" you ask as you sit on the couch, legs crossed, your blanket falling from your shoulders, revealing the same pajamas you wore last night.

You look down, and notice that your phone is in Kun's hand, and tild your head. "Why?" he asks, pointing to the phone. "Why what?" He gets up, and he sits down next to you. You are not afraid, you know Kun will never hurt you, but you also do not know what to expect. You have never seen him angry except at one of his colleagues on the phone, and each time he makes sure to leave the room so that you do not see, or hear anything.

"Am I not enough?" he asks in a voice so weak that you wonder if you heard correctly. "Why do you ask me this?" he sighs and puts the phone down on the coffee table, it's on this time, and you can see the many notifications when the screen lights up. That can't be good, you think, but you do not even think about reaching for the phone, since Kun turns your head to face him by gripping your chin between two fingers.

You frown, your mouth opening slightly at his sudden move. "You haven't touched your phone since you've been here, and today you decided to do it, because you knew I wasn't coming back, why?" he asks in a firm voice, and you avoid his gaze, which doesn't seem to please him. "Good dolls look at me when I talk to them." he says with clenched teeth, and you shake your head. "I- I'm not a doll."

Kun scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Of course not. You are not, you are right. You don't deserve to be one of my dolls." this sudden realization makes you open your eyes wide, shaking your head. "What? Of course I deserve it!" when he shakes his head, your eyes fill with tears and he refrains from stroking your cheeks to calm you down. "No. A doll doesn't look to see someone else when I'm not around." it's crazy how fast a few words made you change your mind about being a doll.

You manage to extricate yourself from his grip, and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kun is surprised at your sudden behavior, and even though he knows he cannot give in, stay firm, he does nothing to stop it. But he doesn't touch you either, even though his hands only want one thing: to rest on your waist. "You are wrong, Kun, I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted to watch, and I didn't even do it, I fell asleep before it turned on." you speak in a quick manner. "Hey, breathe." he says, and you take a deep breath.

Kun looks at his watch, and he makes a noise of surprise or aknowlegdment, you don't really know. "Did you drink any water today?" he asks, and you are surprised at the sudden change of tone in Kun's voice. "No, I was sleeping." now, he understands. "That's why you decided to act like this! You silly goose, you know you need to drink." you pout when Kun puts you down on the couch, because you already miss Kun's warm touch and scent. "I'll be right back."

A minute or two later, Kun returns with a glass of water in his hand, and he hands it to you. "Drink it all." you nod and take the glass to drink the content. Over time, you started to ignore the weird aftertaste that burns your throat a bit when Kun give you something to drink. He settles down next to you again to pull you onto his lap without waiting, except this time, he wraps his arms around your waist to press your chest against his. "You can't disobey me anymore, okay?" you nod.

"Yes, I will not do it again, I promise." he puts his hand on the back of your head, and he pulls you in for a languid kiss. But before you can initiate anything, he breaks the kiss. "I'm so sorry, I just want to be a good doll." you whisper close to his ear, and he smiles weakly. "I know that my love, and you are, it's just that sometimes you get distracted. But that won't happen again, I'll make sure of it myself."

Chapter five: Taeyong.

For the following weeks, Kun makes sure not to leave you alone for too long. And the more time passes, the less able you feel to regain full control over your body. Kun does everything for you, he doesn't let you lift a finger, if only to clear your plate. If your thought were yours, you would wonder when he plans on spoon feed you himself, but they haven't belonged to you for a long time.

Sometimes you have moments of lucidity. Your eyes clear, and your memories come back, the times you spent with Taeyong, the life you had before meeting Kun, and during those brief moments, you wonder if you'll ever get back to those times you genuinely took for granted. You began to write in a notebook what you remember in these moments, and the time when it happens. And every time, it is before breakfast, when you get out of bed.

Like all plans, Kun's isn't foolproof, luckily you manage to keep it to yourself. You refuse to think about what would happen if he ever found out that sometimes you become yourself, Y/n, and not Kun's doll. Even in these times, you are not afraid of Kun, because you know he'll never hurt you, at least not physically, he is way too sweet, and too in love to do it. Because yes, despite the mental ordeal he makes you live on a daily basis, he loves you, you know it.

Maybe you should stop forcing yourself to remember your old life, and come to terms with what you have become. Maybe you'll get used to it, and start to appreciate what is offered to you, you think, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, the only place you can have a little bit of privacy. You rub cold water on your face, because you know that in a few minutes, when Kun gives you your drink, you will not be yourself. And when you turn to take the towel, you hear a little noise coming from the bedroom.

You frown, it is not Kun, you can hear the noises coming from the kitchen. So you come out of the bathroom, and you follow the noise that continues, to Kun's bedsite table which you open, and what a surprise when you find your phone. It's on, and Taeyon's photo appears on the screen. You take it, and with a trembling hand, you answer.

"Hello?" you ask, and the noise you hear coming from Taeyong is barely describable. It's a mix of surprise and relief. "Oh my god, Y/n! Do you have any idea how scared I've been for months?" you bite your lower lip. "I'm sorry." you answer, and he growls from the other side. You can't imagine what he felt. "Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?"

When you are about to answer, you hear footsteps coming towards the bedroom door. "I have to go." and you hang up before shoving the phone in the drawer before closing it. And when the door opens, you turn to him, smiling. "Is everything okay?" Kun asks, and you walk up to him, nodding your head. "Perfectly fine, I was ready to come down." you put your hands on his chest, and you kiss Kun softly.

Kun answers to the kiss, one of his hands fiddling with the pendant of your necklace. He doesn't express it very often, but he is extremely proud to see you wearing it every day. It shows that you belong to him, even if you do not need it, you prove it to him every day. "Come eat." he says against your lips, and you take his hand to exit the room.

Once in the kitchen, you drink the glass of juice offered to you, and the effects come much faster now. And when you are finally in Kun doll's mindset, you feel stupid for answering Taeyong, so much so that you feel ready to confess everything to him, and ask him to throw the phone away for you to no longer be tempted, but you do not. "I love you Kun." you say, which surprises the man who smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "I love you too, doll, more than anything in the world."

Chapter six: Yes, bad doll.

Kun has to go to work.

To do that, he made sure to give you a double dose last night, to make sure he wouldn't have to deal with another scene like last time. He trusts you, but you can never be too careful, he thinks, looking at you. You are sleeping peacefully, and you are so beautiful, he wonders what he has done to have a person like you in his life. You are the most beautiful doll, his best creation. However, when he met you, it was not a won situation. But you proved to him that you were capable of changing, and he would give his life for you.

He places a kiss on your forehead, and he pulls back when you stire in your sleep. For a second, he thinks he woke you up, but no, you turn, your breathing still deep. His little angel. He gets out of the room, takes his satchel, and leaves the house.

When you open your eyes, it is not because of the sun coming through the curtains, but because of the knocking on the door. You whine, and wonder when the noises will stop, but they don't. Kun must not have heard it, or he is not home. So reluctantly, you get out of bed. You have to hold on to the wall to walk, to avoid tripping. You feel feverish, and so so tired.

When, at least, you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you approach the door. Everything is silent, and you regret having moved, but as your turn on your heels, the knocking on the door resumes. You open it, and you frown when your eyes fall on a man. He is not very tall, his hair is pink and washed out. He looks like he has not slept in weeks, and when his eyes fall on you, you wonder if he is going to cry.

"Y/n!" he throws himself on you to hug you to his chest. You know if Kun witnessed the scene, you would be in trouble, and yet, you stay in the man's arms. The warmth that he gives off, his perfume, his simple way of being are not unknown to you. "Taeyong." you breath, and the boy pulls back, his hands still resting on your shoulders. "I hope you have some explanations for me, young lady. I've been looking for you for months!"

"How did you find me?" you ask, cocking your head. He is truly struggling to recognize you. Your eyes are glassy, and he can no longer see the happiness and mischief he used to read in your eyes back in the days. "Thanks to your phone. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." you nod, hugging your body with your arms. "Of course I'm safe. Kun takes good care of me, and he loves me very much. I love him too."

Taeyong frowns, he feels liks he is listening to a robot, or a pre-recorded message. It is no longer his best friend that he has in front of him, but someone else, and he does not know how to explain what exactly has changed so much, or what could have happened. He even wonder if you weren't brainwashed, joined a cult, or had a frontal lobotomy. He knows it's stupid, but he is stupid, and those are the only thought that come to him. He is far from reality.

"Can I come in?" Taeyong asks, trying to see the inside of the house over your shoulder, and you bite your lip. You are not sure Kun would enjoy seeing a stranger in his own home, but he is not here right now, and a good doll must also be a kind and welcoming host, so you shrug. "Yes, of course." you push yourself out of the door to let Taeyong in, he wolf-whistles when he sees the inside, and how clean and shiny everything is. "Wow.

You head for the kitchen. "You can sit if you want. Do you want something to drink?" you ask, but he shakes his head. "No thanks." he sits down on a stool around the kitchen island, and you sit across from him, your hands resting on the cold surface of the counter. "So? Tell me everything that happened." yes, you suspected he would ask you the question. "I met Kun in the bar where we were that night. And I don't know, things happened naturally after we saw each other again. I think moving here was the next logical step, it just happened."

"But that doesn't explain why you stopped responding to my messages, and giving signs of life." Taeyong's voice is painful, even for you. You sigh, playing with a thread on your pyjama sleeve. "I don't know, Taeyong." it's the truth, you do not even know why you stopped caring about your phone, you who spent most of your time on it. "But I'm sorry." are you really? Not really.

You spend the next two hours talking. Well, Taeyong talks about things that have happened over the past few months, and you listen. You try to smile, nod at the right time, and be happy to be with him again, but you can't stop thinking about Kun, and what he is going to think when he finds out he's been here today. Not that he is preventing you from having contact with the outside world, but seeing how he reacted when you wanted to use your phone, you suspect that he is not going to be very happy.

"...and Ten started screaming." Taeyong says, and you open your mouth to laugh, but instead, your mouth opens in a silent cry as Taeyong's face makes contact with the kitchen island in a violent manner. So violent that he loses consciousness almost immediately. Behind him, you see Kun, and what you read in his eyes is nothing but pure rage. Your breathing is plowed, and you get up from your chair.

"Why would you do that?" you ask in a panicked voice, and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "You should thank me." he says as he approaches Taeyong. He grabs his hair to lift his head, and you gag when you see the amount of blood on his face. "But he didn't do anything!" you defend, and he laughs coldly, so much so that an unpleasant shiver runs down your spine.

He lets Taeyong's head fall back, and he looks at you. It's not longer disappointment he is showing, but something more intense. He is scary, and yet he smiles at you. "You know, I really thought you were different. When I met you, I finally thought I had found it, the perfect doll. I loved you so much, and I would have given you everything, even my life, and yet you decided to betray me." you shake your head as you join Kun.

"I didn't betray you Kun. He came on his own, I didn't contact him. I didn't tell him anything, we didn't do anything either." you say, cupping Kun's face, but he takes a step back to avoid the contact almost immediately, and ouch, that hurts. "I love you Kun, I love you so much." you continue in a whisper, and he shakes his head.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have let him in. You would have told him to go, and you would have moved on with your day. But no, you decided to be a little slut." A little slut? You would never dare to do such thing. You love Kun, and only Kun. No matter what he puts you through every day trying to make you the perfect doll, you have never loved anyone as much as you love Kun.

"I'm not a slut, Kun. I'm your little doll." you say in a low voice, not daring to look Kun in the eyes anymore. You feel him approaching you, and you refrain from taking a step back. "Are you sure of that? Are you my perfect doll?" he asks, and you nod. "And what would my perfect doll do for me?" you lift your head, and run the tip of your tongue over your dry lips. "Anything Kun. I would do anything for you."

"Very well." that's all he says before heading to the locked cabinet. The one in which he takes the small bottle of transparent liquid every morning. The bottle is full, and you wonder how get manages to get so many. You follow his every move with your eyes, and you frown when you see him emptying the entire bottle into a glass. And he pours a small amount of fruit juice into the glass before mixing everything.

He hands you the glass, and he says. "Drink."

You shake your head with vigor, you do not intend to drink the content of this glass. Only god knows what could happen to you. "You said you would do anything for me, and I want you to drink." he walks up to you, and every time he takes a step forward, you take a step back. At least until your back makes contact with the kitchen wall. You are stuck, you know it, Kun is too fast, if you try to escape, he will catch up with you in an instant.

"You said you were a perfect little doll. And you know very well that dolls listen and obey when I ask them something." his voice is much softer now, and you get lost in his big dark eyes. So much love are in his eyes, so he might not be able to hurt you, right? He is just playing with you to see your reaction, to see what you are ready to do for him, right? Taeyong growls behind Kun, but he doesn't pay him the slightest attention. "So?"

"I'm going to drink, because I love you Kun, and I want you to know that I am your perfect doll. Your best creation." you say in a whisper as you take the glass, and Kun looks satisfied. You pursue your lips, and it takes a minute for you to muster the courage to open your mouth and drink the content of the glass. The taste is horrible, and the burning sensation in your throat makes you cough hardly. You drop the glass which shatters to the ground. Kun hasn't moved, unlike you, he is too busy looking at you. He knows what is going to happen, and for many reasons, and he doesn't want to miss a thing.

"You know, Y/n, I've had a lot of dolls before you. They were different from each other, and each time I thought I had found the right one, but each time, I was wrong. They always found a way to lie to me, and betray my trust. But when I saw you, when I saw the effort you were willing to make to please me, I really believed you would be the last." he cannot hide his disappointment, and his disgust.

"I loved all of my dolls, trust me, but you... I never felt something so strong for any of them. You were the exception. The one and only." you are having a hard time keeping your eyes open, and slowly, you slide along the wall. Not only do your legs seem to weight a ton, you feel like your heart is doing things it shouldn't be doing. It beats too fast, and too slowly at the same time.

You have chills, and a cold sweat covers your forehead, and rolls down your spine. Soon, your lungs are racing, and it becomes more and more difficult for you to breathe. Kun crouches down in front of you, his fingers sliding down your wet cheeks from the tears you didn't know were rolling. "You are lucky, because your life will end in a much more peaceful way than theirs."

"I could have let them go. I could have helped them get rid of the drugs in their bodies, and let them go back to a normal life, but I couldn't afford to risk being reported to the police, or to see them with someone else, I hope you understand." he turns to looks at Taeyong who gradually regains consciousness. "And unfortunately, your little friend won't have an ending as sweet as yours. It'll teach him to not stick his nose where it does not belong."

Kun talks, but it's just gibberish to you, you can't concentrate. You can't. All you can do is put your hand down to your chest, it's so painful, everything burns. You are hot, and cold. A broken sob escapes your lips, and Kun places a kiss on your lips. "I will never love any of my next dolls as much as I loved you, I promise." he whispers against your lips. "I don't think I can love anyone after you. You were all I ever dreamed of."

You vision gradually fades. You see nothing, except the contours of Kun's body. You do not feel anything either. You do not know how long you've been on the ground, but you are not in pain anymore. You are at peace, you think, as you take your last breath.

A single tear rolls down Kun's cheek when he sees you take your last breath. His heart breaks, but he gets up. Kun could have forgiven you, of course, he dreams of nothing other than spending the rest of his life with you, but he hates being betrayed. No matter how intense his love for you was over the past few months, he refuses to be used. Trust is what matters most to him, and he knows the next few months will be horrible, it will take time for him to recover from your death, your "accidental" overdose, but he will. And he'll try again.

One more name to add to his list of failure.

But first, he has to take care of Taeyong. He can't have a witness in his house, or maybe he can use him. He is a handsome boy, he could be useful in his search for the perfect doll.

#nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #kun imagines #kun scenarios #nct smut #wayv smut #nct angst #wayv angst

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marvelsbetch · 4 years ago

Text

Peter Parker’s field trip part 3

-Peter's POV-

After lunch Owen grouped us all

back together, including Wade, and took us around more labs. There was nothing particularly special about any of them until the corridor we were walking down became all too familiar. We stopped infront of a door to a lab, the door to my lab. Oh God.

"Now, for those of you who don't know and haven't guessed it yet, your class mate Peter works here. This is his lab and I was wondering if he would allow us to see what's inside. Peter?" Owen announced looking directly at me.

"Fine but you have to swear not to touch anything and not discuss anything you see with others." I warned them as I swiped my card and held the door open to all of them.

They all filled in and started looking around cautiously and with amazement. Many people noticed the prototype suits on mannequins at the back of the room. I was helping Dad, Pops, Bucky and Wanda with new designs for suits as well as trying to improve mine. It's been a challenge but we're making steady progress.

"Peter, Mr Stark has told me to ask you to open your connecting doors." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice rang out across the room.

"Oh dear lord." I sighed and moved to open one of the other doors in the room that connected mine and Dads lab.

There was also a door connecting to a storage closet filled with various building parts. The other doors lead to a bathroom, Pops' art room, The training room and a testing room. There was lots of doors but thankfully I labelled them all.

"What do y-" I started but cut myself off when I opened the door and saw the guardians stood in Dad's lab. Frick!

"Mini Peter!" Drax yelled pulling me into a very tight hug. What's with the bone crushing hugs today?

"What're you all doing here?" I asked pushing Drax away from me.

"Can't we visit our favourite earthling without a reason?" Peter asked putting his arm around me.

"You sound like Thor." I told him shrugging his arm off.

"Don't insult me like that." Peter told me jokingly serious.

"How come I don't get any love?" Wade asked appearing behind me.

"Hey! What am I here for?" I asked him trying to sound offended.

"Beside you." He said putting an arm around my waist and resting his head on mine.

"Hands off Wade." Dad warned with a scowl on his face glaring at my boyfriend.

"Alright Stark, alright." Wade said sarcastically and put his hands up before slowly backing away.

"Don't push me, I'm already letting you stay in my tower, and sleep in his room for that matter." Dad gestures to me with an angry look on his face.

"Moving on, why're there a bunch of gawping teenagers stood behind you?" Peter asked gesturing to my class.

"Well, this is my science class from school. They're gasping because no one believed me when I said I had an internship here but I've proven to have more than that." I explained taking Wade's hand in mine much to Dad's disappointment.

"Anyway, what're you doing next? When're these losers leaving?" Peter asked putting his arm around my shoulders.

"We're visiting the training rooms with Steve, Nat, Clint, Bucky, T,Challa, Wanda, Vision, Strange and Loki." Dad explained making me groan and put my head on Wade's shoulder in annoyance.

"And then they're staying the night and visiting Avengers Tower tomorrow." I told him from Wade's shoulder.

"Avengers Tower?" Drax asked confused.

"It's kind of like our mother ship. It's where we're briefed and de-briefed about our missions and meet up for various things. We used to use this tower but it's less used now." Dad explained.

"They still use it sometimes though. Say, for example, to embarrass me." I said sarcastically lifting my head up.

"Aww, come on Pete, don't you love seeing us all day?" Dad teased grabbing my cheek.

"Not when your soul purpose is to embarrass me infront of my class. Other times, I couldn't thing is anything better." I told him making him smirk.

"Come on then, let's go see everyone train." Dad said clapping his hands together and leading the group through one of my doors and directly into the training room.

"Ah, Midtown I presume. Welcome to the Avengers training room." Pops introduced gesturing to the room around us.

There was treadmills, weight lifts, cross trainers, workout bikes and much more. Over in an empty corner Strange, Wanda and Uncle Loki were practicing their magic where as every one else was doing normal physical training.

"So, who wants to fight an Avenger?" Aunt Nat asked looking across all the students in front of her. "You, with the stupid grin. Come up here." Nat instructed pointing to Flash. Oh dear lord.

Flash confidently made his way up to Nat and just stood there doing nothing. Nat showed him a proper fighting stance and told him to attack. The next few seconds was Nat pinning Flash to the mat before he could react.

"I wasn't ready." Flash breathed out from the floor.

"No one is. That's why she's good at what she does." Pops told him smirking at me. "Why don't you have a go?" He asked me.

"No I'm good. Do you want to?" I asked gesturing to the mat and Nat.

"Oh come on kid. Live a little." Pops coaxed with a smug grin on his face.

"Fine." I sighed detaching myself from Wade and standing in front of Nat. I got into a fighting stance and we started fighting.

After 10 minutes of back and forth between me and Nat I eventually pinned her to the mat to the astonishment to my class.

“Well Peter, good to know nothing's changed." Pops grinned passing me my water bottle and a granola bar.

"Thanks Pops." I said with out thinking.

“Right, now we're gonna teach you basic self defence. We'll split you into groups and go from there." Pops explained turning to my class when an alarm went off.

"Code Green! Natasha and Peter to Dr Banners lab please." F.R.I.D.A.Ys automated voice rang out.

Me and Natasha took off running as fast as we could to Bruce's lab and stopped in front of the door for a brief moment. We could hear crying? Slowly, we opened the door and found Hulk sat on the floor crying.

"Hulk?" I cautiously asked stepping forward.

"Spider Boy!" Hulk yelled pulling me into a tight hug. "Hulk miss his spider boy!" He cried.

"Okay big guy. Why were you crying?" Natasha asked placing her hand on his arm.

"Lonely. Bad Human kept me trapped." Hulk explained as more tears fell.

"Okay buddy, put me down and we can hang out with you for a bit. How does that sound?" I offered.

"Thank you spider boy." Hulk said giving me one last squeeze, breaking my last rib and placing me on the floor.

"So, what do you want to do?" Nat asked sitting on the floor next to Hulk.

"Play outside!" Hulk whined. When did he become so child like?

"Okay, wanna play tag?" I offered thinking back to childhood games.

"Tag?" Hulk asked.

"It's where we run around and touch people gently. The person you touch is then 'tagged' and you must run away from them. You understand?" I explained.

Hulk slowly nodded so Nat took him outside while I called Dad to explain what happened.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Dad asked with my entire class looking at him.

"Yeah he was just lonely and in a mood with Banner. Me and Nat are gonna play some tag with him if that's okay. We'll either be on the roof or balcony." I explained to him.

"Okay stay safe." Dad told me before waving.

"I will. See you later." I said waving back and hanging up the phone.

-2 hours later-

After playing tag with Hulk for way too long we managed to get Banner back. The only think was, we promised Hulk to speak to him later. While my class will still be here. Hopefully he doesn't get scared or feel threatened and we can have a nice and calm conversation with him. We walked back to the training room but no one was there so I called Dad to see where he was.

"Hey, where've you all gone?" I asked.

"We're in the penthouse. How was playing tag with Hulk?" He asked.

"It was fun. We promised we would speak to him later so we need to talk to the class and explain otherwise he may feel threatened or angry." I explained to him getting into the elevator to take us to the penthouse.

"Okay, I'll gather everyone and you three can explain to them." He said.

"Right I'll see you in a minute." I told him before hanging up.

We got to the penthouse and found my whole class plus teacher stood in the living room like they were waiting for something. I walked in with Nat and Banner on either side of me and they all looked visibly shocked.

"Okay, quick announcement if you're all going to be staying the night. What happened before was a 'code green' that means the Hulk. Now, not every time he's here he's angry, so for instance today, sometimes he's just lonely. We managed to get Banner back but promised we would speak to him later so if anyone hears a code green do not freak out. Don't go up to him or anything but don't freak out. That's what'll make him intimidated and angry and that's when people get hurt. Do I make myself clear?" Nat asked giving each individual a piercing glare.

"Yes Miss Romanov." They all said simultaneously.

"Now, you have one hour before food to explore the penthouse. Any door with a red square is a prohibited area, it's mainly bedrooms though. Have fun and don't break anything." Dad warned.

As soon as he finished everyone scattered and tried to find something interesting to look at. Me, Wade, Ned, MJ, Dad, Pops, Nat and Banner all just sat on the sofa and started a movie. As time went on the rest of the Avengers along with Thor, Loki, Shuri and T'challa came in and started to watch the movie with us. We briefly heard and saw my class mates walking around and looking at things in the hallways. They were all very interested in the littlest things.

An hour soon went by and we called everyone back in to talk about food and what we should order. We ended up with Pizza cause who doesn't like that? We ordered 35 because there was a lot of us and I needed like 4 to myself, it was 15 margaritas, 5 Hawaiian, 5 BBQ chicken, 5 vegetarian and 5 meat lover. All large and all delicious. True beauty. We all sat in the living room and no where else would fit us all and ate in pretty must silence.

"So Peter, how come you know the Avengers?" Christie asked.

"The internship. I work closely with Mr Stark and just met everyone from there. It stared with working in projects all night to having sleepovers and it all progressed from there." I explained. It felt weird to call Dad Mr Stark again after all this time of calling him Dad.

"Patricia, how did you get the internship. Stark Industries don't usually hire teenagers." Mrs Robbins asked trying to be polite but made one big mistake. Patricia.

"Well I found Videos of Peter's work on YouTube. I'd also bumped into him at Oscorp at one of your other field trips." Dad explained with emphasis on 'Peter'. Mrs Robbins seemed uncomfortable with Dad's use of my name.

"Well what type of thing do you work on?" Al asked.

"All sorts. Started with building small robots to help with small mundane tasks then working on bigger robots with Mr Stark and then working on suits and weapons for everyone. Now I'm designing them as you all saw before. Btw Wanda, I need you to come to my lab at some point this week to check hour suit out." I informed.

"Okay, maybe after food we could go." She offered taking another bite of a BBQ chicken pizza.

"I can do that." I agreed and finished my slice of margarita.

"Well, why you?" Flash asked clearly annoyed. Shoot.

"What do you mean why him?" Pops asked getting angry.

"Well, with all due respect, why did you hire him? He's nothing special, just a charity case at the end of the day." Flash huffed and Pops' face went red with anger.

"Charity case? What do you mean by that?" Wade asked trying to moving me from his lap but I didn't budge. I knew he'd kill Flash.

"Like with his Aunt, they didn't have money and skips out on school with stupid excuses. You're probably only talking to him cause you feel bad, no need to lie to us." Flash explained and Banner's face turned green.

Everything else happened so fast. First Wade practically threw me off of his lap onto the floor where Ned caught me. Then Banner stormed out of the room yelling and turning green. After that, Dad got up from his seat and lunged forward but Pops caught him and was holding him back in a hug type situation. Nat pulled a knife out. Bucky smashed a pizza. The sofas were floating. There was thunder outside. Loki was evilly smirking. Shuri was holding T,Challa back. Sam was seething in the corner. Clint reached for his bow and arrow. Wade pulled a katana out of god knows where. It was all happening.

"Everybody outside now!" I yelled at the adults and dragged my Dads and Wade out the room behind me.

They all came out and I was immediately attached with question after question after question. Nat was asking if I wanted her to kill them. Dad, Pops and Wade were agreeing with her. Thor was threatening to bring the whole of the Asgardian army. Banner was still no where to be seen. Things really went down hill fast.

"Come on Baby. He made you feel like shit, let me teach him a lesson." Wade tried to persuade pulling me close and putting his hands on my waist.

"No Wade. You're not killing him. You've been doing so well, you've gone a whole 2 months without killing anyone. Don't throw that all away for him. Come on baby, calm down and help me with everyone else." I pleaded looking into his eyes and placing my hands on either side of his face.

"Fine but if he says one more thing not even Hulk could hold me back." He sighed bringing me in for a brief kiss.

"NOT IN FRONT OF US!" Dad yelled all anger seemingly averted to Wade.

"Geeze old man, calm down it was just a kiss. Not as if I fucked him right in front of you is it?" Wade told him sarcastically.

"Stop before your killed." I warned him.

"Mmmm. You're no fun." Wade told me.

"This is all beside the point. Banner's Hulked our and Hulk is not happy about Flash. He's coming straight towards everyone." Nat warned looking at something F.R.I.D.A.Y shown her.

"Oh god." I said as everyone rushed back into the living room to find my class huddled in a corner with Hulk slowly advancing.

Me and Nat ran out infront of them and our hands up to indicate for him to stop. Hulk looked between me and the group with confusion.

"They're mean to spider boy. Why be nice?" Hulk asked.

"Because it's what we do. We're nice to people despite them being mean to us because otherwise we'd be as bad as them. We don't want to be as bad as them. We want to be better. Do you understand?" I explained to Hulk slowly.

"Yes I understand spider boy." Hulk slightly sulked and walked over to a different side of the room where he turned back into Banner.

"How can you do that?" Someone asked hesitantly.

"Do what?" I questioned confused.

"Calm him down. I thought only black widow could do that." They explained baffled.

"Well you thought wrong." I simply told them with a shrug as I walked back over to the couch and sat on Wades lap much to my Dad's disappointment.

"Okay then, what movie should we watch?" Pops asked trying to change the topic and succeeding.

"Okay this is how we're doing it. If you want horror move to the right side of the room. If you want comedy stand to the left." Dad spoke. The majority, including myself and Wade, moved to the right.

"Okay, Annabelle Creation to the right, It to the left." The majority stayed at the right.

"It's settled." Pops announces turning the tv on and playing the movie.

Everyone found somewhere to sit, Dad on Pop obviously, then everyone else who lived at the tower, Ned and MJ squeezed onto the couches. The rest of my class sat on the floor that was covered in blankets, pillows and other types of bedding. It looked quite comfy but nothing was as comfy as Wade.

"So, Parker, how come you're buddy buddy with all of the Avengers?" Flash asked once the movie begun.

"I told you, I'm Mr Starks personal intern and so I met everyone." I lied.

"It's so weird to hear you call me Mr Stark again." Dad pointed out making us all laugh but confused my class.

"Don't start calling me Steve again, too weird." Pops requested earning a few more laughs.

"Alright Cap'ain." I said making us again, laugh a little.

"So, Peter, how did you get your internship?" Al asked.

"Well, it's a long story." I told him trying to think of one on the spot.

"I secretly sent out a message to collages and High schools near by and asked for their most brightest and promising students. I got almost two hundred responses but one from Midtown high stuck out. A boy who couldn't do PE to save his life but could do a university level science equation in his sleep. Sounded like me when I was younger so I spoke with him and after a few trials including him and some other candidates I went with Peter. One of the best decisions I ever made." Dad informed them, lying slightly, making me blush and look down.

"How did that lead to all of this?" Al further questioned gesturing to me and the rest of the Avengers.

"Well, with being his personal intern I followed him everywhere and into meeting for both Stark Industries and the Avengers. He also let me stay here when my aunt had to work late, this then turned into me spending the weekend here most times and some school night. With me spending so much time here I met them all, I was a little awkward at first but got used to them and then the jokes started which turned to minor pranks which turned into Parnell wars which turned into me finding a family in the most unsuspected way." I spoke fondly smiling at the memories of first meeting them and the first prank pulled, Clint decided it would be funny to put shaving cream in all of my pockets and shoes.

"Wow, must be amazing, knowing you can come here at whatever time you want and have the Avengers back you. You're a lucky kid Parker, I'll give you that." Al said.

"I know I am." I spoke, mostly to myself as I took Wade's hand in mine.

"How did your relationship start?" Hayley, a girl from my class, asked.

"That is an interesting story that I'm sure Wade would love to tell." I said smirking slightly.

"Well, I have a tendency to brake in the tower and one time I ran into the living room escaping Stark and found Peter sat on this couch watching Star Wars surrounded my blankets, pillows and junk food. I walked over, sat next to him and had a lovely conversation with him about Star Wars and Star Trek, it was very engaging. Then Stark ruined it by kicking me out and giving me a lecture on communicating with his intern. I clearly didn't listen and came here more often to speak to him, on one of my trips my crush grew too strong and plucked up the courage to ask him out. He said yes much to Starks distaste. We went on a date, shared a kiss and decided to make it official, this was 8 months, 4 days, 32 minutes and 54 seconds ago." Wade told them smiling widely as he pulled me into a deep and loving kiss only to separated by my Dad flicking Wade's ear.

"Wow, that's so sweet." Hayley fan-girled.

Soon enough, nine thirty rolled around and we were all sent to bed, my class was showed to their shared rooms while me and Wade snuck off to my room where he followed through on his earlier promise.

To be continued...

#trans peter parker #peter parker field trip #adopted peter parker #bi peter parker #gay peter parker #peter parker #domestic avengers #ironfam #super family #superfamily #hulk #dick head flash #spideypool #wade wilson #pansexual deadpool #gay steve rodgers #gay dads #peter parker protection squad

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flightlessangelwings · 4 years ago

Text

The Interlude: A Marcus Pike Love Story

Chapter 1/7 (complete, more in masterlist, story also tagged)

Marcus Pike x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/warnings: none right now really, no use of y/n, reader’s bf is a douche (it’s not Marcus don’t worry), Marcus is a sweetheart, pining, romance, fluff

I was nervous about this, but @tintinwrites “gently nudged” me into writing this ;)

Marcus Pike couldn’t believe how quickly six months went by since he moved to DC for his new job. He buried himself in his work to deal with his heartbreak over Lisbon, which actually did help. It didn’t give him the time to stay stuck inside his own head and as a result, he had never been more successful in his job. Marcus didn’t even entertain the idea of going on a date or anything, and instead chose to be married to his work.

However, the case he was currently on hit a roadblock. Marcus and his team had been after a prominent art thief for weeks now and they didn’t have a single solid lead. The guy was so elusive that they didn’t even know exactly what he looked like. Somehow, the thief always managed to avoid cameras or any other type of identifier, and it frustrated the hell out of the art theft team.

But, Agent Pike had an idea. It was risky, but he felt backed into a corner and didn’t see any other options. He got in contact with a prominent local artist and got him to agree to set up a sting at his next art show. It would be too tempting for the thief to pass up, and Marcus banked on an appearance from their slippery friend at the show.

It was mid afternoon when Marcus and his team arrived at the gallery to meet with the artist and get themselves set up.

“Johnny Luna?” Marcus asked the man who stood in the middle of the room.

He turned around from the portrait he focused on and greeted the agent with a wide smile, “Agent Pike, I assume?” he extended his hand, “Nice to meet you in person.” Johnny was the definition of tall, dark and handsome, and he had a smile that lit up a room. He had a kind face and flawless skin, and Marcus found himself envious of the man at how effortlessly charming he was.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied cheerfully, “Thank you for letting us do this. It means a lot here.”

“Happy to help,” Johnny looked around the room, “Just promise me nothing will happen to my babies.”

“We’ll have agents posted throughout the whole gallery, and we’ll stick around all night,” Marcus took note of his team in the midst of their set up, “Nothing’s gonna happen to any of your paintings. You have my word.”

Johnny was about to answer when a figure approached behind him, “Hey Johnny,” your voice broke into the conversation, “Sorry to interrupt, but I need your opinion over here real quick,” your eyes met with Marcus’ and they lit up, “I just need him for a second, I promise,” you added with a quick wink.

Marcus nodded as he watched the two of you walk towards the large painting that was the centerpiece of the collection. As he studied you, he felt something awaken within himself that he tried so hard to keep dormant. You were so beautiful, and there was just something about you that immediately pulled him in, even after just a few words. But as much as Marcus wanted to make a move, he reminded himself about what happened last time and he forced himself to refocus on his work.

“Agent Pike,” Johnny’s voice knocked him out of his thoughts, “Let me introduce you to the best event planner in DC,” he introduced you with your name and swung an arm over your shoulders as you extended your hand to the agent.

“Call me Marcus, please,” he took the opportunity to really study your face, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he didn’t like. He hoped his gaze didn’t linger too long, but he didn’t want to look away from you.

“Marcus,” you repeated his name with a wide smile. The two of you stood in silence for a moment with your hands still connected until you felt the need to talk to him more, “So what drew you to working in the art department?”

“Big fan of art I guess,” he shrugged as he reluctantly let go of your hand and suddenly felt nervous under your soft gaze, “What drew you to event planning?”

“I saw The Wedding Planner when I was young and it sparked the party planner in me,” you replied with a giggle, “Although I have to say I’m a big fan of art and history as well. Federico Andreotti is one of my favorite artists.”

Marcus’ eyes lit up, “The Interlude is one of my absolute favorites,” he felt as if he could run in every direction at once with how much life filled his veins at how perfect you were.

The smile on your face only grew and you felt your heart pound in your chest, “I love that too! Serenade is my personal favorite,” you opened your mouth to say something more but just then, a member of your staff called your attention, “Excuse me gentlemen, duty calls.” You bit your lip before you slowly turned away from the agent and got back to your work.

The two men watched you walk away, and Marcus couldn’t help the question that left his lips, “Are you two… together?” he motioned between you and Johnny and found his heart beat faster in his chest.

“Nah man, she’s my best friend. Known each other forever,” Johnny replied right away as he faced him, “You’re more my type anyway,” he added with a wink.

Marcus chuckled at the comment, “I’m flattered, but she is more my type,” he retorted playfully.

Johnny smiled brightly at him, “I knew it!” he laughed as he clasped his shoulder, “And honestly, I know we just met and all, but I can tell already you’d be so much better for her than Tom.” He watched your whole interaction silently, and it made an idea pop into his head. Johnny knew you well enough to know when you liked someone, and he definitely knew you liked this agent.

Marcus’ face dropped, “So she’s with someone?” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, a huge douchebag if you ask me,” he scoffed.

Clearly there was more to the story than that, but one of Marcus’ colleagues walked up then and wanted to go over some details with them. They spoke for a while, and the entire time Marcus snuck glances over at you across the room.

“One thing we have learned about this guy is he seems to take a liking to the ladies,” the other agent said, “The few images we have of him, he’s always talking to good-looking women at galas when he comes to scope it out.”

Agent Pike scanned the room and studied his team and he found himself wondering when so many men were on the art theft team. The only two women were much older, and he knew he couldn’t use them for the setup. Chatter filled the space around him as everyone put in their opinions and ideas; everyone knew that they couldn’t blow this opportunity to finally catch this guy.

“What if I help?” your voice chimed in from behind him.

Marcus jumped and turned around to face you and he wondered how long you had been standing there. “No, this is something for my team to handle. I can’t ask you to do something like that.”

“No offence Agent,” you quipped back, “But your team is kind of a sausage fest. Besides, how much risk can there be in the middle of a crowded art show with a whole FBI team here?” you were light with your words, but held firm in your stance.

Marcus turned back to his team, who all seemed to be in agreement. It was unconventional for sure, but no one saw a better option. With a sigh, he turned back to you and extended his hand once more, “You’re right. I guess you’re an honorary agent for tonight,” he used his humor to hide his nerves before he went through the plan with you and his team. You were to arrive early and wear a wire and a hidden camera while you talked to several men at the show to give them a better shot at identifying their thief.

Once the plan was set, you left with a nod so you could get ready for the evening. Marcus felt a similar feeling in his chest as he watched you leave. Johnny stood by the door to lock it behind you and he shot Marcus a knowing smile when he turned around and caught his eye. He looked away and pretended to be occupied, but he could still feel Johnny’s gaze on him.

The afternoon flew by and before he realized what time it was, you were back at the gallery, all dressed up. Marcus stopped in his tracks when you walked through the doors in your little black dress, your hair and makeup styled to perfection. You greeted Johnny before you looked around, and your face lit up when you met Marcus’ gaze.

“Wow,” he breathed out when you made your way over to him, “You look stunning,” Marcus complimented you as he felt himself get flustered. But he kept it together; he had to be extra focused now that you were involved in the sting here, “You ready?”

You nodded with a fierce determination in your eyes, “I’m ready, Agent Pike.”

Marcus felt a tightness in his chest at your bravery. Beautiful and brave, he hardly knew you but you were already a dream come true for him. And Marcus found that he wanted to do anything to get to know you more, not to mention he felt a fierce determination to keep you protected during the art show tonight.

He pinned a small hidden camera to your dress and handed you an earpiece so he could stay in touch with you throughout the evening as he explained his plan. You were to float around and chat up men in hopes that they could get enough to successfully identify their culprit once and for all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be close by,” Marcus said in a soft voice, “I’ll watch over you.”

“I know you will Marcus,” your voice was equally as soft as you gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher the meaning behind.

Marcus’ fears were soon pushed aside as the show started and people filtered in. You moved throughout the crowd, and made sure to take the time to talk to any men who lingered. The tech team went right to work and analyzed the images from each of the men you spoke to and so far came up with nothing. And true to his word, Marcus was always close by just in case something went wrong.

As you made your way around the room, you approached a tall thin man who studied the centerpiece of the collection.

“Hey there,” you broke him out of his trace as you cleared your throat. You seemed to startle him, and you couldn’t see his face until you were right next to him. Immediately you became suspicious.

The man soon recovered, however, and he grinned at you, “Well hello there,” his voice felt like ice and you wanted to back away from him. Yet, you stayed determined. “Shouldn’t you be hung on these walls too? Because you are a piece of work.”

You forced a chuckle at the terrible line, “You’re too kind, but thank you,” you shifted yourself to make sure that your hidden camera got a good look at the man, “This is real art though. You can really feel the emotion the artist put into this piece,” you of course knew just how much your friend poured into the painting before you, but you kept that to yourself.

“For you sweetness, I’d buy it in a heartbeat,” he leaned in close to you.

“You don’t even know me,” your reaction was genuine, “Besides I couldn’t ask someone to spend that much money on me. I’d feel too guilty.”

“Well maybe I won’t actually pay for it then…” he spoke under his breath. When you looked at him in surprise, he shook his head and changed the subject, “I mean…” for the first time he seemed unsure of himself, “There’s things other than money that can buy affection. If you get my drift.”

At that, you visibly cringed and took a step away, “I…. I have to go. Excuse me,” you turned around and walked away, suddenly very uncomfortable. You scanned the crowd for a familiar face and you let out a sigh of relief when you saw Marcus in the distance and you all but ran to him.

“You alright?” Marcus asked in concern as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” your voice didn’t convince him in the slightest , “He just seriously creeped me out. I did not get the warm fuzzies from him at all,” you made yourself laugh for a moment at your words, and Marcus relaxed along with you.

“You did really good tonight,” he said your name with admiration, “I think we got what we need here so you can enjoy the rest of the show now,” he paused and looked you over once more, “Thank you.”

At his words, your nerves completely disappeared as you looked into his soft, kind eyes. You let yourself exhale as you handed the hidden camera pin back to him. Once your hands connected, neither of you pulled away for a few moments, and you let your touch linger with his. You were about to close your hand around his when a voice called your name.

You jumped and turned around to find your boyfriend, Tom, walked up with a scowl on his face. He was taller than Marcus, and had a lean, muscular body, though he was not as handsome as Marcus or Johnny. “There you are. You haven’t answered your phone. I’ve been looking all over for you,” there was more annoyance than concern in his voice as he spoke to you.

“I’m sorry,” your once confident and sparkly demeanor changed as you suddenly became a shadow of yourself, “I told you I’d be here and I’d be busy.”

Tom sighed as he ran a hand through his light brown hair, “Well, are you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes?”

He nodded with a huff and gave Marcus a disapproving glance before he turned and walked away. You turned back to Marcus and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes like before, “Sorry, I gotta get going. Is there anything I need to do before I go?”

Marcus watched the whole interaction with a subtle frown on his face, but he softened his expression when you turned back around, “No, you’ve done more than enough,” he paused. He didn’t want you to go so he tried to think of a reason to keep you in front of him for even a moment longer, “Here’s my card. It’s got my cell on it so give me a call if you ever need anything,” his breath caught in his throat when your fingers touched again as you took the card from him, “I’ll probably need to follow up with you if we successfully ID our perp.”

You were about to pull out your phone when Tom shouted your name again. You let out a shaky breath before you decided not to irritate him further, “You can get my number from Johnny, just tell him I said it’s ok,” you lingered for another moment, “I’m sorry, I gotta go.” With that, you rushed to meet your boyfriend, who put his arm around you the second you were close enough. But it wasn’t a comforting or loving embrace, and he seemed to treat you more like an object or a possession than a person. And it made Marcus furious.

“I see you’ve met Tom,” Johnny’s voice came from behind Marcus, “I told you: total douchebag.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, “Is he…” he cleared his throat as he struggled to find the words, “He’s not hurting her or anything, is he?”

Johnny shook his head, “What kind of best friend do you think I am? I wouldn’t let her stay with him if he was.”

Marcus sighed as he watched the door in the futile hope that you would walk back inside. The two men stood together in silence for a moment before he remembered, “Oh, she told me I can get her number from you. I need to follow up if we get a lead,” Marcus said.

Johnny smiled widely, “I would love to give you her number.”

Meanwhile, you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car as gazed out the window as he rambled on about himself yet again, not even bothering to ask you about your day. But then again, he rarely did. You were brought back to the present when your phone buzzed, and you looked down to a text from a number you had just saved in your phone.

It’s Agent Pike. Thanks again for your help today, the sausage fest art department appreciates it. I’ll be in touch. :)

For the first time since you got into the car, you smiled.

Notes: I’m not sure how long this is going to be, but right now I’ve got it at about 5 or 6 chapters. Most likely though, it’ll end up longer. Thank you to @tintinwrites for encouraging me to write this and for giving it a read over for me! And thank you @thirsty-flygirl for your help on this as well! Taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added! :)

Everything taglist: @thirsty-flygirl

Pedro Characters taglist: @tintinwrites @ollypopp @starwarswh0re @emesispo @mrschiltoncat @perropascal @shadow-assassin-blix @huliabitch @randomness501

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fic #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike story #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the interlude

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poutyhannie · 4 years ago

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warnings: tsundere!minho, boxer!minho, fem!reader, mentions of d*ath, bl**d, kn*ves, violence, smut, fluff, angst :), dark cold minho finds a soft spot in y/n :))))

word count: +8k

The blisters on your hands burn as you placed the cash register on the shiny white counter. Finally, your life’s goal to begin a small cafe in town was complete, but this was only the beginning. Even the ache in your feet and back from the boxes and produce you carried in last night couldn’t shake the beaming smile you greet the empty store with. Golden light streams in from the freshly washed windows, bouncing off the racks of freshly baked breads and pastries. These beams of light must be the physical representation of the heavenly aroma of baking goods and you fill your lungs with it, content and elated at the prospect of a new chapter.

Among the normal baked goods, everyday items were placed around the counter, such as umbrellas and first aid kits. It was a small tactic to make a bit more profit or a thoughtful gesture, just in case customers needed something other than coffee and a croissant.

If you didn’t close the door soon, the cold morning gusts of wind would stale and harden the goods, but this display of openness was necessary to garner new customers so you quickly hopped from behind the counter to cover the goods with glass domes which served as lids.

The people of your city had been relatively friendly, spreading the word of your grand opening. Thanks to this, streams of customers filled your lavender-themed shop before the morning and evening rush. When the sun’s golden shine began to dissipate to cold blue, the goods were dwindling on the shelves, prepared to be restocked for tomorrow.

The front of your lavender purple apron was streaked with flour, chocolate, and jam as you wiped the counters of the same substances. The giddy excitement in your bones contradicted the cheerfully ticking clock on the wall that told you it was late into the night. When did the day spin away from you so quickly? Would all the days at your shop be this enjoyable? Sighing contently, you settle on one of the comfortable white chairs, finally feeling the pinching ache in your feet. You’d have to get employees once you made enough revenue, you were bound to only get more customers from here on out. Maybe you’d hire cleaners once a month to do a deep clean?

Thoughts prospective of your future and the future of your shop were interrupted when the door swung open—you were concerned the force would shatter the glass door itself. In stalked a darkly clad man, his back was turned to you as he quickly scanned the shelves and displays of your shop. He’d ignored the ‘closed’ sign. Still, one more customer couldn’t hurt. “Welcome,” you greeted warmly, feet aching as you walked back behind the counter. The customer gruffly rolled your word off.

The gloves on his hands didn’t have fingers and when he placed a small first aid kit and sandwich on the counter, you could see the beds of his nails were bleeding. However, when you saw his face, you realized his wounded fingers were not priority. A blistering red patch scored his cheek under his dark eyes. There was a fresh cut on his left cheekbone that matched his bust eyebrow and lip. At the state of his lip you quickly reached over to add a tube of chapstick to his order. “Don’t need it,” he grunted but made no move to put it back. “Its on me,” you explained, ringing him up, ignoring the roll of his eyes. Though his hoodie was pulled down, the sweaty strands of black hair were still visible, slightly blocking his vision. “Take care,” you offered him, placing the bag into his hand. The empty night was louder than him as he exited your store.

A month in and you’ve managed to perfect the flower-shaped croissants, exploiting the layers of dough and butter croissants naturally proved to achieve petal-like flares. Proudly, you arrange them on a baby blue decorative plate, fixing the eyebrow raising price tag in front of it. People would have to accept that baking was another type of art and that your croissants tasted as good as they look. Many customers have become regulars, your yellow post it note stuck on the cash register denotes what they usually get, just a courtesy. New people enter your store everyday, sometimes stopping to pose for pictures in front of the arguably aesthetic display case filled with your best work. A swell of pride always elates you and you remind them to tag the cafe in their social media posts.

Its because your shop has a softer, pretty theme that you’re surprised when you find yourself writing down what the bruised man from before would always order. Though you formally close at seven, you leave the light on as you close down for him because he usually enters at nine. At the end of every week, he replenishes his first aid kit, sporting nasty red, brown, and purple wounds on his face every day. His placement of the bandaids and salves are sloppy at best and as the daughter of a doctor, you can’t help but stop him before he disappears into the inky night once again. The accusative glare he shoots at you leaves you stuttering. “What do you want?” His words and tone almost have you denying that you even called him in the first place but you wonder why he’s always beat up and why he’s so cranky. “You’re not putting on the bandages correctly.” “What would you know about it?” “My dad was a doctor—here, just let me fix it for you.” You’re released from his heavy glare as he thinks over your proposal, eyes flitting around your shop before landing back on you. “Just make it quick.”

He’s never sat in one of your shop’s white chairs and he shifts on plush cushion, you across from him, preparing the first aid kit. No sound escapes him as he rips off his existing bandaids, though just watching him makes you want to wince. The used bandages are shoved into his pockets and he slouches in front of you. The wounds this time congregate around his jaw, a nasty blue-green bruise spreading from his chin to the end of his jaw. Cuts and rug burn-like patches are scattered around his face and you can’t picture what he’d look like without a black eye.

In the name of being prepared, you keep an extensive first aid kit under your counter. You gingerly smear the bruise with the respective salve before dousing the cuts with alcohol. All the while, the damaged man in front of you says nothing, but glares at you through his shaggy bangs. Though scared to anger him him, you softly push back his hair to reveal another bruise above his left eyebrow.

The tense silence tears at you and you blurt out, “Have you not met any left handed people? They’re always on your left side.”

“More like they haven’t met me.”

“You’re left handed?”

“Ambidextrous but they still never see it coming,” is his gruff reply.

Slowly, as you spread salve on his cuts you put two and two together. “You’re a fighter.”

“Boxer.” Though his uncomfortable silence had previously left you at a loss for words, you quickly get back into your old habits, “You’re a boxer? That’s why you’re always beat up. You must not be very good if you’re always getting hurt. Are you paid to fight other people or is it based on bets? You’re really young to be boxi—”

The coldness in his eyes as they snap up to you has your words choking in your throat. “I let my opponents have a semblance of victory before I beat them. Its based on bets so I get more profit if viewers place more bets against me.”

He rises and you follow him to the door. “I-if you…when you get injured, just come here. It’ll heal faster if I tend to it.”

A nod is all you get but its more than the silence you’ve been struck with by him before so you’re not complaining.

He holds you on your offer, coming in every night from nine to midnight. You don’t mind lingering at your shop longer because his scuffed boots find their way into your store every night. You learn that his name is Minho and that his boxing nickname is Lee Know. The air between you has melted from cold tension to quiet casualty. Though your heart clenches in wariness every time his battered face shows up, it also pangs in empathy for him. Empathy that he refuses to accept.

The glint in his eyes that he regards you with every night informs you that he scowls upon your empathy, the pout on your lips as you concentrate to clean his wounds and the worried laced in your voice as you ask him about his upcoming matches. “I’ve been preparing for the season to start. If it goes well, I can progress past my current bracket,” he explains and though his voice has been exclusively monotone, if you strain your ears hard enough, there’s a trace of hope and anticipation there.

“You haven’t been doing matches this entire time?” You exclaim, dumbfounded that this amount of damage has been from practices and preparation for the real thing.

For a passing second, everything in his demeanor except his voice calls you an idiot before he softens, realizing you know nothing about his underground life. “If we had matches all year, we’d kill each other in no time. No,” he laughs humorlessly, shaking his hair out. Its grown a bit longer than his eyes but you’ve secured it back, clearing his face up with a pink fluffy headband he scoffed at. “The lower division guys have up to 40 matches but the really good ones only have two or three.”

In the beginning of your late night first aid sessions, you’d timidly ask Minho small talk questions and he’d gruffly respond with a word or two, but never a full sentence. Now, you ask him because you’re genuinely curious about his profession. “How many do you have? Do you know who you’ll go against?”

“Twelve. Edging on the more professional bracket but still not there yet. Opponents are rolling; I don’t know until a few days before and even then, it’s not necessarily helpful. Just need to touch up on their weaknesses.”

“What’s your weakness?” You ask him, dabbing some burn salve on the glove burn stretching over his cheekbone. At the silence stretching across the two of you, you hope your tone came across as light and playful, not offensive. Though you were acquaintances with the boxer, you couldn’t yet bring yourself relax around his dark gaze.

“You’ll have to figure it out.” A giggle rises in your throat, maybe a nervous habit or maybe because you found him interesting.

An exhale eases out of your lungs as your legs give out, throwing yourself on your bed. The soft blue glow of your bedside lamp washes the room in a calming light but exhaustion refuses to let you bask in it. Soon, your eyelids are drooping and back is pressing into the sheets.

Danishes.

A harsh, ringing voice rips through your head; you bolt up, pulling your neck at the speed and abruptness. Gasping, you fling your shoes on, realizing that you left the dough proofing. If it were any other dough, you’d roll over and shrug off the loss of a batch, but this dough was made with premium French artisan flour that a kind customer had gifted you. Somehow, the panic in your throat wards off drowsiness and you speed down the empty streets. Bursting into your store, you rush to remove the dough from the bowl and knead them into small loaves.

Based on how the dough smells, you don’t believe it over proofed so the worry loosens your throat allowing you to inhale a yawn, sliding dough into the warm oven.

The chairs in your cafe are plush but nothing compared to your bed. It’s making you slowly regret coming back tonight.

A loud bang rings through the silent air and immediately fear grips your heart which is thrumming in your throat. Maybe its your drowsy state that has you flinging into panic at the noise. The rubber soles of your shoes slowly squeak over the tile as you move over to grab a knife you use to score the bread. Its size won’t scare anyone off, but its sharpness is one to be reckoned with. From your fuzzy, sleepy memory, the sound came from the small storage room so with white knuckles gripping the knife, you creep over. In your rush, had the door been carelessly left open? The storage room door is ajar but you can’t see anything inside. Relaxing the slightest bit, you nudge the door open slowly, entering on tip toe. Though dimly lit, you can see that the small room is empty and relief floods you, though not completely ridding you of the former panic—your heartbeat is still in your throat.

When you return to the main room with the counter, tables, and register, cold, blinding panic returns tenfold. There’s three dark figures in your shop, crouching next to the counter, quickly stuffing their bags with the money stashed away. In a flurry, you press your back to the storage room door, cursing yourself for leaving it in there and at the front door which you left wide open.

Your mind whirls, trembling with fear and apprehension. Where was your phone? You couldn’t possibly stop these men but would the cops come in time?

“What the fuck are you bastards?” A voice rings out. Harsh. Cold. You don’t dare turn the corner to look.

A muffled cry pierces the tense air, strained grunts, and sounds of impact following in succession. There’s a loud cracking sound and a wail that raises your goosebumps and you slink back further into the shadow, hoping that whatever is happening behind the wall will leave you alone. Breathy curses and threats are thrown before visceral, bodily squelches and groans silence them. Digging your fingernails into your palms to get your hands from shaking, you tremble in the corner, even after the sounds have been reduced to low, pained moans and a pair of footsteps. They wander around, heavy and assured before edging closer to where you’re hiding. You don’t dare breath, but you don’t think breath would come even if you asked it to.

“Y/n?” At the sound of your name, your eyes grow wide, though you’re still frozen in place. The footsteps round the corner and you’re met with scuffed black boots and ripped black jeans. Squeezing your eyes shut, your mind whirls as you remember staring at those boots, tending to wounds. His wounds.

When your eyes fly open again, he’s crouching in front of you, face significantly less wounded than you’ve seen it. The sound of your knife clattering on the tile startles you into flying into his arms. He makes uncomfortable, awkward noises above you, hands floating above your back as his butt smarts from the force you knocked him over with. “Did you beat them up?” You voice is shaking and you’re either on the verge of tears or already crying into his black hoodie, filling your mind with his deep sweaty musk, “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, its not that big of a deal though. Just call the police,” he pushes you off of him with surprising gentleness, seeing that his hands are stained with the blood of those three men. On his feet in a flash, he drops a bag onto your lap. “Here is your money.”

There’s no proper reason why your hand shoots out to pull him from leaving. Maybe it’s because the would be thieves are still laying in your store, maybe its because you want to keep inhaling the warm scent he exudes, maybe it’s because the thought of being without him tonight scares you. “The police won’t believe that I did this,” you whisper, hoping that that will ward off his need to leave. It’s impossible to interpret what the dark look in his eyes are—you can never seem to read his thoughts.

Only his verbal confirmation has relief flooding your chest, “Fine.”

After tying up the perpetrators, Minho settles half an arms distance away from you, a waft of his musk filling your nose as you think you hear the piercing screech of sirens. “Were you just gonna let them take your cash?”

You were wrong. His eyes can deliver something other than blank darkness: incredulous accusation. The disbelief and an audible scoff in his question has you curling up tighter, burning with the implications he poses. You’d let these men reap the fruits of your labor; you wouldn’t try to stop them.

“Y-yeah,” you attempt, trying to concoct a reasonable excuse that would get his disapproving stare from burning off the side of your face. “There were three of them, so of course I’d let them go.”

A scoff rips from his throat, clawing at the back of your neck. “This won’t do. You know,” he turns to you, one eyebrow raised, “this’ll just be the beginning. Are you gonna be prepared to defend this shop, bub?”

You bristle at his know-it-all attitude and the patronizing nickname, “Why do you care? And why were you even here this late at night?” The pale yellow suggestions of sun peak from the inky black sky as you’re reminded that you’ve gotten no sleep. Ignoring your questions, he rises, adjusting his jeans and walking over to the policemen now at the glass door of your cafe.

Even after the robbers were detained and police left, he remains, his dark scent permeating the air around you. “Listen,” he starts, hands shoved into his pockets and the regular scowl on his face, “I was just walking back from practice and saw them in here. And you need to get protection around here.”

“And how would you suggest that?” You throw back, fueled with remaining sass. A shrug. He turns away, walking to the door. Habit says he’ll ignore you, disappearing into the lightening city horizon, but he stops, hand resting on the glass door. You slap his hand off of it, but his hand’s grimy residue clouds a part of the door already.

His shoulders drop in annoyance before he grunts, “I could teach you how to defend yourself.” Mouth agape and eyes wide, you repeat his words, “You’d teach me how to defend myself? Isn’t your season starting up soon?”

His gaze drops, you think he’s taken aback at your remembering the dates of his season. “Coach doesn’t want me sparring. Get healed or some shit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m offering because it’ll be good for me to refresh on the basics and the next shop is twenty minutes away. I’ll be inconvenienced if this shop closes anytime soon.” The thought of Minho scowling down at you as a personal defense teacher scares you, but the vivid memory as you clutched the knife terrifies you.

“When are you free?”

“No, widen your feet; squat more, bub,” Minho lets out an exasperated sigh and slips behind you, hands on your hips to adjust your stance in front of the punching bag. The yellow lights overhead and the pale wash of moonlight are the only things illuminating your ‘self defense’ classes. With as much punching as you’re doing, you think it’s more of a boxing lesson than self defense.

“One.”

Your left glove strikes the bag.

“Two.”

Right hand.

Minho repeats these instructions, the two words seemingly molding together into a mash of sounds. As his cold voice continues to command you, the burning in your lungs intensifies and your thighs, arms, and stomach ache, screaming at you to stop. _Give up. _ A voice lures you, reminding you of how your knees shake and eyes sting from sweat. “I can’t,” you whimper, hands retracting as you meet Minho’s disapproving stare. It makes you avert your gaze, the burning in your cheeks from something other than physical exertion.

“I’m heading home then.” Scoffing, Minho slings his bag over his shoulder, nodding back to you, “see you tomorrow.”

Dejected, you fumble with the straps of the boxing gloves Minho gave you, unable to grasp them when both your hands are cocooned. The usual mocking sarcastic glint in Minho’s eyes were replaced with disappointment and his abrupt departure burns your chest. Maybe you should have pushed yourself more? Maybe he shouldn’t have.

“One, two. Don’t lean into it. One, two. Rotate your wrists. One, two. Guard your jaw, he’s gonna knock you out.

“Keep going, Y/n,” interrupts the usual ‘one, two’ and your teeth grit, pulling your elbows in and snapping your punches. Minho’s lips lift from the corner of your eye and this spurs you on, extracting energy from a place you didn’t know existed. Fueled with anger—anger at yourself for having given up last session, anger at Minho for pushing you—you pummel the punching bag, breathing harshly as the sound of slapping synthetic leather fills the musky room.

“Okay, break.” The ground collides with your body as your legs give out under you. Your breathing must have been uneven, because there’s white patches in front of your vision. After blinking them away, you’re met with Minho’s outstretched hand offering a water bottle. His face is turned away from you, but his cheeks rise, insinuating a smile. With a breathing ‘thanks’, you practically inhale the water.

“Slow down, bub. You’re gonna puke.”

Laying a hand over your spazzing heart, you give him the best glare you can muster, “No thanks to you, Lee Know.” He smirks at your use of his boxer nickname, sprawling on the ground next to you.

“Y’know,” you gasp in between breaths, “I don’t think this is self defense, this is just offense.”

Minho’s head tilts in acceptance, tongue poking out to swipe at his bottom lip. “No, what you’re doing is not boxing if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Oh yeah?” You tease, pulling a face at Minho, “I’m in boxing gloves, attacking a poor boxing bag.”

The veins in his forearms strain as he leans back onto his hands, “I could show you real boxing, bub. I have a match next week. I can get you in.” Your heart clenches at the thought of seeing the blood and gore you’ve seen on Minho’s face being made. He senses your uneasiness and leans forward, hand brushing over your knee almost…timidly? “You don’t have to come, but you can. I’ll text you the details,” he shrugs, “show up or don’t.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn a pastel purple skirt to a boxing match but it’s too late to turn around and change. At least you had the sense to wear safety shorts and sturdy combat boots. Yelling can be heard in the distance and while you’d usually flee from sounds like that, you find the GPS on your phone leading you right to it.

The barbaric shouts are deafening as you stand in front of a grey building. A man, who’s arms are the size of your shoulders guards the door. “You lost, little girl?” He asks gruffly, but he doesn’t seem sarcastic.

“I-I um,” you clear your throat, “Lee Know has a match here?” Your statement comes off more as a question and you wince at how weak your voice sounds.

The bearded guard nods, his black shirt straining as he crosses his tree trunk forearms in front of him. “So you’re the lady he’s been babbling on ‘bout.” A blue tattoo stretches on his forearm as he opens the door, a wave of stench, heat, and yells ramming into you. Thanking the man quietly, you slip through the door. It’s an arena, like a football stadium but scaled down significantly. Burly and wiry men alike fill the seats, howling like dogs. You pull your sweater closer to you and your skirt down. The lights and sounds whirl in front of you as you try to spot Minho in the crowd. Further up, closer to the boxing ring, there’s a familiar head of black hair and broad shoulders. You hope it’s him as you squeeze past the admittedly scary crowd of men.

Tapping his shoulder, you breathe in his musky scent. It almost cancels out the stale rotting stench around you. When he turns, his eyes are dangerous and dark—you almost stumble back—but when he sees you his eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t think you’d come,” he shouts over the chaos, “here,” he pulls your shoulders into his chest, shielding you in his arms as he begins to weave through the crowd, “my match is in a little bit so I was gonna head to the back.”

The screams are muffled now as Minho closes the door to a small, empty room. He slouches on a chair, gesturing you to do the same. “It’s always so fucking chaotic out there. I can never focus before a match. I can never think,” he mutters, mostly to himself, so you freeze, not wishing to distract him, “My mind is always somewhere else and I can’t remember anything. It’s like nothing else but my nerves exist.”

Only after a beat of silence, after Minho turns his wide eyes up to look at you, do you realize he was talking to you. “But you’re so good. You’ve been training all year,” you blurt out, not pausing to think about your words, taken aback at how innocent and lost his eyes look, “isn’t it like muscle memory?”

He groans, you worry you’ve said the wrong thing, “Yeah, I know but it’s just so fucking frustrating, bub.”

Smiling widely, you tease him with a nudge on his shoulder, “You’re gonna be great. Plus, you’ll have me cheering you on.” Awkwardly, you make punching movements, “I’ll take your opponent down if you can’t.”

That’s the first time you hear Minho laugh. A genuine, hearty laugh. Not a scoff or a mocking tease. It’s warm and sweet and surprisingly high. His eyes crinkle, still smiling at you when he stands, “Okay sounds like a plan.”

Seeing the dark glare Minho holds his opponent with as they circle the ring, you understand why Minho sports the look so often. It takes you off guard; you feel like you haven’t seen these dark eyes in a while. A strong swallow of spit tightens your throat. You blink, his opponent strikes, mitt slapping against Minho’s blocking forearm. Gasping a breath, you freeze in apprehension as the crowd around you roars to life. The sharply muscled, bald man circling Minho does not lack in speed; the blurring blue of his mitt once again slams against Minho’s forearm. The bald man tenses, charging at Minho with a flurry of attacks. Desperation clenches your throat as you will Minho to do something. He ducks his head behind his forearms, abdomen clenching at every blow inflicted to him. Soon mutters calling Minho a ‘punching bag’ and a ‘free win’ crawl into your ears. Anger flares in your chest—you know how good Minho is at fighting. Why isn’t he doing anything? However, Minho’s wiry muscled, grey haired coach standing beside you is stoic, a stark contrast to the screaming audience, hurling saliva with every abusive word they target at Minho.

“Why isn’t he doing anything?” You whisper to yourself, too engrossed in the match to care about the raw vulnerability in your voice. The bald opponent retreats, panting as Minho continues to circle him.

Minho’s coach growls, a smirk breaking his expressionless wall, “It’s over now.” Wide eyed, you turn back to the match, taking in the sweaty, hunched—you’d daresay weary—shoulders of the bald man, heaving with pants. A relief spreads a smile across your face. Minho had been doing something. The red boulder of Minho’s mitt slams into the side of the man’s head, jerking his neck awkwardly, hurling him into stumbling, expression blank shock. An electric wave of excitement shoots through you. Minho is merciless, unwilling to let his staggering opponent recover, pummeling him with firmly resounding attacks. You recognize some basic moves he’s taught you, only now do you realize capabilities of those punches put into action.

The red of Minho’s mitt is soon darkened with the seeping blood of his opponent and the fickle crowd now screams Minho’s name, invigorating him, causing his blows to land harder, until the bald man is thrown onto the blood spattered floor. The referee slams the ground thrice and the crowd erupts into a cacophony of cheers and groans.

A satisfied smirk cuts across Minho’s barely harmed face as he unfurls his sweaty arms in victory, bathing in the cheers of those who bet on him and the cries of those who bet against him alike. His coach turns to you, a satisfied twist to his lips, a wad of cash already in his clutched, calloused hand, “This is why he wasn’t doing anything, sweetheart,” he says, shaking the money, “Minho’s a tough kid but he’s also a smart kid.” After a pause, his coach shifts, frowning in, “You’re the first person Minho’s brought to a match. Nobody else. Take care of him,” he warns.

Minho’s panting presence behind you raises goosebumps on your neck. You turn to see his glistening bare abdomen as he towels himself off with a sweat rag. Bruises bloom on his forearm and but he ignores them, receiving the majority of the cash from his coach.

“Let’s get out of here before some ass crack takes his faulty betting out on me,” he says, resting a hot hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the back exit, ignoring jeering crowd members. The empty night greets you and he nods to a black car, gruffly explaining, “You walked here, right bub?”

“Yes, also,” you gush, “that was pretty cool."

He looks away, deflecting with, “Yeah, get in.”

“Why do you do it?” You ask, strapping your seatbelt on and retrieving the makeshift first aid kit from your purse.

The car murmurs to life and Minho’s voice is surprisingly quiet and soft, “I got into a lot of fights up to high school so coach came up to me and asked me if I wanted to make it a profession,” a pause and Minho murmurs, “he took me in, taught me how to channel the joy I got from fighting. Turn it into something better. Focused.”

“He seems really proud of you,” you observe, leaning over to rub a salve onto his shallowly cut lip. “You should put on more chapstick, Minho. Where’s the one I gave you?”

Under flash of passing yellow streetlights, you can almost make out a dusting of pink on Minho’s cheeks. “I lost it,” he admits, tilting his head slightly to give you better access to his lip.

Sighing, you settle back onto the carseat. “I can take better care of you when we get there.” Minho’s eyes are wide, looking back from the road to you, “Where?”

A clench of nervousness holds your gut, but you shrug, “Yours, mine, I don’t care.”

It’s Minho’s turn to be flustered; he nods quickly.

Minho’s apartment is bare, only cluttered with various trophies and medals, a ground table, a tv, and a small couch. You set down his bag, you insisted you carried it and Minho opens a cabinet, retrieving the first aid kit. He settles on the couch, legs crossed tightly underneath him. For some reason, its stupidly endearing. The alcohol on his cut stings and Minho’s eyebrow furrows in pain. “Y’know, you don’t have to be tough around me, Minho.”

His eyes are blank, “What do you mean?”

“You barely let yourself feel pain, you’re always glaring at something, and you never open up about anything. You don’t have to be like that around me, Minho.”

An eyebrow lifts and he tilts his head to the side slightly, “I told you about coach,” he offers.

You nod slowly, “Yeah, that’s true. I guess, I just like seeing you smile,” you shrug, “that’s all.”

Suddenly bashful, Minho looks down, biting his lip to repress a smile.

“That’s what I mean!” You exclaim, placing your hands on his cheeks to cradle his face, forcing him to look up at you, your heart in your throat. He groans, an endeared smile finally breaking out, “Quit being so fucking cute and maybe I could think enough to talk properly to you, bub.”

Burning excitement fills your chest and you pose with a peace sign, “You think I’m cute?”

An exasperated roll of his eyes is all the answer you need. “Well,” you say, patting his head, “you’re very cute too.”

This time, his scoff is soft, “I’m a boxer.”

You press a bandaid over his cut, “Yes, a very adorable boxer who needs to smile more.” He breaks out into laughs, filling you with bubbly warmth, gazing down at you with eyes that are anything but dark and dangerous. It’s warm and tender. He is. Sobering up, Minho tilts his head slightly, his eyes traveling down to your lips.

Anticipation fills your chest and your mind whirls, not knowing what to do so you blurt out, “Oh yeah! Chapstick,” leaning over, you retrieve a tube, “Here.” Minho, however is unfazed by your awkwardness and cocks an eyebrow, suddenly confident, nodding to the chapstick, “Put it on for me.”

Its your turn to blush, but you do still, not realizing that this isn’t clear chapstick. Its only when you pull away do you realize his lips are painted a pretty shade of pink. Clapping in joy you shove your phone camera in his face. “You’re so pretty!”

Stuttering in surprise, his eyes bug out but he doesn’t make any move to wipe it off, “The fuck?”

“So pretty!” You exclaim, holding his face to put more on, laughing at his shocked expression. Minho pulls back, tumbling you with him until you’re staring down and all your laughter has been swallowed. Silently, his hand travels up to the back of your head, gently pulling you towards his freshly moisturized lips. Smiling because of nerves, you don’t need his hand to guide you.

His lips are surprisingly soft but perfectly sticky with your pink chapstick. Almost timidly, his tongue caresses your bottom lip and you whimper as he eases your lips apart. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth and your arm cramps from holding yourself up over him but he’s so gentle and careful with the kiss you don’t want to stop. Your arm gives out and you press against Minho, snaking your fingers into his slightly sweaty hair. Panting, Minho pulls back as he gazes up at you, his eyes wide and sparkling. “I don’t want to go too fast, Y/n,” he whispers, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone.

Brazen with unfound confidence, you pout at him, “No. Be mine now.” Minho smirks, laughing softly as his eyes crinkle up, “Okay, okay,” he reassures you, pulling you down to lay on his chest, “I’ll be yours.”

“Don’t you dare do that, Y/n. I’ll sue you,” Minho threatens, eyes wide but voice joking.

Giggling, you ignore him, continuing to create a new dessert of your own design called the ‘Minho Mochi’. It’s a soft peach mochi covered with waffle cone. “No, I take inspiration from you and plus,” you mention, “you said yourself that the juxtaposition of the soft sweet mochi and the shell of the waffle cone was good.”

“Yeah,” he groans, plucking a mochi ball from the counter and popping into his mouth, “but that was before you decided to use my name for it, bub.”

Reaching up to clean the potato starch residue on his lip you correct, “I made the mochi with you in mind first, not the other way around.” Minho mumbles half heartedly, turning away to smile but you tug his arm. He’s blushing and grinning softly; your heart clenches in adoration.

“I can make you one for every match you have, would that make you feel better?”

Minho laughs, bringing your potato starch and rice flour covered hand to nuzzle his cheek, “Fine, I guess this is what I get for having girlfriend that owns a purple bakery.”

“Hey!” You deny, pulling back, “This is lavender, not just purple.”

“Yes, yes,” he agrees quickly, tugging you into him. “I’m covered in flour,” you protest into his chest, his deep musk a relieving break from the sweet scent of mochi. You feel him press kisses to the top of your head as his arms tighten around you so you relax into him, circling his waist with your arms.

“You should really decorate this place, Min,” you comment, gesturing at his bare apartment. You’re comfortably draped across his shoulders from the couch as he sits on the floor. He looks back from the TV, eyes wide and a puppy-like pout graces his now well moisturized lips, “What do you mean? I have my trophies as decoration.”

Groaning you protest, “No, those are trophies. You need proper deco here, it’s just sad.”

A familiar, flirty smile spreads across his face and he winks at you, “You’re prettier than any other decorations I can get.”

Though you feel your face burning, you roll your eyes at him, trying to suppress the smile bubbling in your chest. He gets up to sit next to you on the couch. Still smiling, he pats his lap, making your stomach jump in excitement. Settling down on his thighs, you play with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his stare. He ducks his head, forcing you to look at him. “Why you shy, bub?”

“I really love you, Min.”

His eyes are soft and you don’t expect him to say it back. You’re just content that he knows.

“I love you too, bub.”

You’re at Minho’s apartment basically every day for the past year and today’s no different. The soft beating of his heart resounds in your ear while the other listens to the calming voice of the audio book you guys are working through. The plot follows a personified kitten who tries to find her place in the world that is too cruel for her. Despite the objectively morbid theme, this part of the story is hopeful—the kitten has found friends and feels at home.

When the narrator concludes the end of the chapter, Minho reaches over to turn the recording off. You take the opportunity to crane your neck up and plant a kiss on his lips. He smiles softly, grabbing your waist so that you’re straddling his hips. One hand travels up to gently tug on your chin, deepening the kiss. His tongue is hot and lavishes against yours, a juxtaposition between his hand, methodically stroking your hair. Your fingers dance across his face, stroking his cheekbones, tracing his jawline and neck.

Soon, your fingers are replaced by your mouth and Minho’s Adam’s apple bobs with the groan he lets out. The fire in your chest and the beginning aching in your core has you tugging at the hem of his soft black tee shirt. His breath is shaky on your cheek as you pull the shirt over his head, softly dropping it next to the bed. Sitting back on his hips, you gaze down at his bare chest, wonder and admiration filling your heart as your hands travel across his toned torso. The lightest breeze of pink blush blows across his cheeks so you lean down to reattach your open mouth to his. The whirling in your mind rids your thoughts of everything except how he feels under you. His wet lips against yours, rising of his chest against yours, his hips pressing against yours.

So his tense voice catches you off guard, “Y/n, are you sure?” He’s pulled back and his eyebrows are furrowed softly, his pretty lips red and swollen but glossy with your spit.

Your gaze drops, hands fumbling to play with his hair. “I want to but if you wanna still take it slow, I’m fine wit—”

“I want you too, Y/n,” he whispers. Hungrily, he pulls off your shirt, sitting up to cradle you in his arms as he nuzzles your breasts, pressing hot kisses against your skin. Sighing contently, you unclip your bra and try not to blush at the dumb, awestruck look on Minho’s face. His rough hands come up to gently fondle them and you press kisses to his forehead and cheeks.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he breathes, his hands firm against your bare waist as he gingerly turns you over so your back is pressed against the cool sheets. “We can take it slow.” Nervousness tightens your stomach and you’re sure he can feel the thrumming of your pulse as he slowly drags down your pants, maintaining eye contact. An endearing toothy smile spreads across his face and he hides it by kissing your tummy, trailing down to your pantie covered core. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or wanna stop, okay?”

You smile softly, “Okay, you too.” Minho nods, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Y/n,” he murmurs, reaching to tug off your underwear. Being completely bare underneath someone would make anyone ashamed or uncomfortable and your face burns as his glossy eyes take your most vulnerable state in. His lips are parted slightly and the soft glow of the lamp casts shadows of his eyelashes onto his red cheeks. A harsh swallow has his Adam’s apple bobbing. “God, you’re dripping, Y/n” He whispers, eyes shining, “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, Minho,” you confirm. He slides his finger into your hot, aching core, his lip caught in his teeth as he watches his digit being sucked in. Slowly, Minho pushes his finger deeper into you, gaze dancing from your face to your core.

“M-more please,” you whimper, consumed by the unfamiliar feeling of your velvety walls around something. When he adds another finger deep inside you, you gasp, a hand traveling down to clutch his free one. His thumb strokes the back of your hand as his other continues, scissoring into you as wet sounds fill his bedroom. When his fingers curl up, hot white pleasure shoots through you and Minho smiles proudly, working at that spot.

“H-holy fuck,” you moan, head rolling from shoulder to shoulder at the unfamiliar pleasure.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse, bub,” Minho muses, releasing your hand to push himself up the bed so that your faces are close together.

“I-its because of you, Minho.”

That triggers something in him and his eyes turn dark, but rather than scaring you, it makes the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten. When Minho removes his fingers from you, it unwinds slowly but clenches at the sight of his now solid length being pulled out of his sweats. His eyelashes flutter closed on his cheeks as he strokes himself with his fingers, still slick from your juices as he retrieves a condom from the bedstand and rolls it on, hissing at the friction. “Are you ready, Y/n?” He pants softly, eyes hooded as he stares down at you, hand still moving up and down his red glistening cock in a way that has your pussy throbbing and mouth salivating. You respond by hooking your legs around his hips, smiling as he leans down to kiss your lips softly. His tip pokes at your hot core and you sling your arms around his shoulders.

Minho’s eyes are piercing as he gazes darkly at you, searching for the slightest trace of hesitance on your part. Painstakingly slowly, he slides into you. Maybe the foreplay did help to prepare you, but the stretch has tears pooling at the corners of your eyes and he’s not even all the way in you. Shakily, Minho exhales, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to hold back from pistoning into you. His lips press into the tears forming and spilling over at your eyes and he nuzzles your cheek with his nose softly, staying still until you reassure him, “Okay, you can keep going.”

His teeth and tongue travel over your neck as he fully enters you, but his soft hiss has you unintentionally tightening around him. “Ah, Y/n don’t,” he groans, lifting his head from looking at the place you two are connected at to to smile at you. “Can I start?”

You nod, hooking your ankles around his hips, “Yeah, just go slow for now.” Minho starts thrusting deep into you, angling his hips and going slow enough to feel the drag of your soaking walls rub against his throbbing cock. “You feel so good,” he moans, reaching to hold your hand as his hips continue to rock against you.

“I-I feel so full,” you whisper, squeezing his hand and he smiles softly at you, eyes crinkling up. “C-can you go faster?”

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips and he snaps his hips into yours, groaning. The lustful and loving sounds of skin slapping resounds in the room, mixing with both of your moans to create a beautiful sound you tuck away in your mind. Minho pulls out till the tip before slamming into you, sweat forming at his forehead. With his free hand, Minho reaches down to rub your clit in tempo with his powerful thrusts. Moaning loudly, you whimper, “P-please, Min I-I think I’m gonna,” your words get swallowed by another moan when Minho’s hips increase their pace, his stamina through the roof.

“Me too, Y/n,” he pants, “Cum for me.”

The hot coil tightens and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed at the sensation until white, electric pleasure crashes through you and you release around Minho’s length. He moans loudly, quickly chasing his high. His face twists in pleasure as he reaches his high and your fuzzy brain is left awestruck at his beauty. Minho collapses next to you, removing the condom, chest heaving in deep pants as he stares into your eyes, smiling like an idiot.

“How was that, Y/n?” He asks, arms circling your shoulder, pulling you close.

You giggle into his chest, fingers tracing imaginary doodles, “That was fucking crazy, Min.”

Minho’s chest bubbles with laughter and he boops your nose, scrunching his own nose up, “That’s great cause I was kinda worried about giving you a bad experience and all.”

Looking up and tapping your chin with a finger in mock thinking you smile, “I loved it, but I want you to call me cute names, Min.”

“I call you bub. But you mean like princess? Babygirl?” he says, an eyebrow raised.

You roll your eyes, “Bub is not a cute name but yes, the others are okay.” “Okay,” Minho laughs, gently rubbing his nose against yours, “You’re my princess, you’re my babygirl, and you’re always my bub.”

Minho shuffles in the sheets, turning to face you, an excited smile on his face, “Just move in with me. You’re already here more than your own place and it’s unsafe there.” Still after loving him for so long, your stomach churns with nervousness, but you laugh softly, scooting closer so that you can bury your nose into his bare chest to breathe his scent in deeply. “This apartment building is safer than mine?” His arms find their way around you and he hold you close, his chest rumbling against your face with every word, “It’s safer because I’m here.” Laughing you pull back, supporting your weight with one arm as you gaze down at him. He lifts an eyebrow, stretching his arms towards you and you can’t help but collapse into them. “Okay, I’ll move in with you.”

A shining smile breaks out across Minho’s face and he nuzzles his nose into your hair softly, gently stroking your bare back.

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