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sweetinsaniiity · 7 months ago

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Sick, Little Games

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - psycho!blackmailer!mingi x fem!reader!Y/N ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, blackmail, gaslighting, Mingi is kind of a dom!, restraint (via rope), public sex (fingering), semi-exhibitionism, hair-pulling, reluctance, corruption kink, it becomes consensual, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), cum swapping/transferring, fluff, falling in love ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, violence, mentions of dubcon, CNC (consensual-non-consensual) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 20K (I swear I tried to make this shorter) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - All you wanted was to go home and relax on a Friday night, so you take the subway. There, you encounter a man whose character prevents you from leaving. No seriously, he literally prevents you from leaving by tying a rope on your wrists while holding the other end with his big, strong hands. The rope isn't the only thing those hands will hold tonight. ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Welp this one is a little darker, let me know if I missed a couple of tags. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent Ateez in real life. Join the taglist here. Title from All Time Low. BONUS CHAPTER IS UP! ◄

Home is all I ever wanted to be right now. The thought of my warm, cozy bed with me on it buried under my fluffy blanket is making me walk faster towards my destination - the subway.

I sighed in relief when I noticed there weren't many people, in fact there was literally no one at all except maybe the occasional passing of the cleaners and one man who was standing idly by the edge of the platform, I'm assuming he was also waiting for the next train.

I could feel his eyes staring me down even though I stood ten feet away from him. Maybe he was surprised to see somebody still waiting like him? Either way, when he didn't look away, I knew I had to make small talk to make things less awkward.

"It's finally the weekend now, huh?" I greeted him.

He was tall, maybe at six feet give or take, and he wore jeans partnered with a black blouse underneath a blacker cardigan that hung nicely against his toned frame.

He tilted his head at me curiously and a slow smirk creeped up on his face. "Yes, it is. What's a lady like you doing out here so late at night?"

"Oh, I have a part time job at the restaurant a couple of blocks away from here, shift ended late," I replied cheerily.

He raised a brow up. "You look awfully young to be working."

"No, well, technically I'm still in university."

"Oh? Where?"

"Seoul University, I'm in my third year."

A slight smile tilted his thick lips upward. "Interesting. I graduated there three or four years ago. How are you liking it so far?"

I glanced at nowhere in particular to give it some thought. "I suppose it's okay," I shrugged, "I only have one year left anyway."

He bit his lips and nodded slowly. "Third year's usually the time when you get sick of what you're doing and you end up hating everything."

I giggled in amusement. "Well that's an interesting way to look at it, you've been in my shoes once so I understand."

He stares at me deeper, his smirk growing wider. "Too harsh?"

"No," I shook my head. "You were just telling the truth."

"I suppose I was," he chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm Y/N," I said without missing a beat. "You?"

He hesitated for a couple of seconds before he replied. "Call me Min for now."

I frowned. That was odd. Your name isn't usually something you think about because it's an automatic response.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady," he coolly puts his hands in his jean pockets.

I grinned at him. "Glad I have your approval, Min. Are you always like this to people you see on the subway?"

I saw a small shiver go through him before he pursed his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged. "You never know who crosses your path one day."

Something about his tone and the way he said it made it sound like he hit the jackpot, but I ignored it. Maybe it was just in my head, I mean, I am pretty tired today.

It got silent again after that. I was finally able to stare at him a little better.

He was insanely handsome - hot, actually - he had short, dark hair that was equally messy and slicked back neatly, and it didn't help that he wore these black, thick, squared type glasses, and it made him look so charismatic.

I looked at him again when his deep voice startled me. "I don't mean to bother you, but do you have the time on you?"

A mild shiver passed through me, the good kind. His voice was deep. I cleared my throat. "Uh yeah, sure, give me a second..."

He hummed while I took a glance at my phone. I saw him eyeing the phone. "It's a quarter past 10."

He nodded in response, dragging a heavy sigh. "Getting impatient?" I asked in amusement. He scoffed softly.

"Patience is a virtue," I joked.

His sharp eyes pierce my doe-like ones, darkening significantly. "I am not known for my patience," he smirked.

I frowned at his bizarre choice of words, about to retort something profound back, but the distinct sounds of the oncoming train made me swallow my words.

"About damn time," I muttered.

"Patience is a virtue," he mocked.

He started walking towards me with slow, but long strides. He didn't break eye contact with me while doing so, and my heart started erratically breathing. The way he walked reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.

I brushed my own thoughts off, that was just absurd. I tried to calm myself by breathing in and out and by the time he reached where I was standing, the train was almost here anyway, so I just ignored him.

Suddenly, I felt him wrap his arm around my waist from behind me. I gasped loudly when his hand squeezed the fleshy part of my waist painfully.

"What the hell are you doing, Min?" I growled, turning my head around to scowl at him, but it was no use. Besides the fact that he was tall, his firm chest pushed out and prevented me from looking at him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, the bad kind.

He pulled me flush against him and now my back was completely touching his frontal body. It sent my body on overdrive and I thrashed this time to try to get free, but it was no use.

"I said," he put his other hand on my shoulder. "Don't move."

The train stopped, the door directly in front of us. I was petrified at this point. This man can do anything to me and none would be the wiser.

After what seemed like forever, the train finally departed and that's when I snapped out of whatever trance I was in.

"Wait, don't go!" I wailed at the moving train, but it was no use. I despaired, that was the last ride until the next day.

I heard him chuckle from behind me, I felt his chest rumbling at the sound. It all happened so fast; one second he turned me around to face him and the next thing I knew he was tying a rope around my wrists as tightly as he could.

"Should've been louder, maybe someone could have heard you," he paused, looking down on me with his sharp eyes. "Then again, I would have just covered that pretty mouth anyway."

"Wait, please don't do this," I whimpered.

"Why not?" he asked, not stopping from tying a series of complicated knots on my wrists, each tug tighter than before it, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt.

"What do you mean why not?" I couldn't help but snap at him. "You're insane!"

He didn't respond, he unfurrowed his thick brows, once he was done with the last knot. He, then, wrapped the other end of the rope with his own hand.

His face didn't give away any sort of emotion as we stared at each other with what seemed like an eternity. I grew fearful of this man, there was no way I could fight him because he was much, much bigger than me even if I tried.

I tried to back away, but there was only so much I could do because the rope would stop me and tug me back.

"Don't come any closer," I raised my hands, or rather, my fists since my wrists were bound together.

He tilted his head inquisitively, still staring at me impassively. I panicked, tugging my hands as hard as I could and wiggling my wrists to try and loosen the thick rope, but all it did was give me rug burns. He sighed, tugging the rope once, making me pause at my ministrations.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a small voice.

Shrugging, he tugged on the rope again, this time a little forcefully, but not enough for me to get dragged to him.

"No, wait, please," I pulled my hands harder, stronger, making his brows rise. "Please take it off, I-I'll give you money."

He smirked. "No."

"But--"

"No offense, angel, but I will probably make what you make in two weeks within a day."

"So you don't need me then," I laughed nervously. "Please, just take it off, I won't tell anybody."

Crossing his arms, he shook his head. "I'm not taking it off."

"Why?" I was scared, nervous, desperate at this point.

Min tugged the rope for real this time, I had no choice but to walk to him begrudgingly.

"Because I don't want to," he whispered. He was so close that I could smell the minty gum he was chewing on. "Come here."

He had the audacity to smile at me as he pulled me against his chest again, this time, facing him with my tied wrists between us. "Much better," he mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Is this what you do in your spare time? Do you always have a rope on you?"

He raised a brow in amusement. "No. First time actually."

I tried to wiggle away from his vice grip. "Please don't hurt me."

"Never," he shook his head.

"So let me go," I pleaded.

I swallowed, my blood running cold against my veins. There was only one thing I could think of, then. His eyes roamed over my face, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"I'm not going to do whatever you're thinking," he sighed. "I'm not going to fuck you."

"Kind of hard not to assume you're not going to force yourself on me," I chuckled with no humour, cheeks blushing at his crudeness.

"Only if you want to," he grinned. He sighed when he saw no response on my end. "I will not hurt you so long as you don't fight me."

"Let me go then."

"No. I'm not going to repeat myself." It was a flat declaration and there was an underlying threat in his voice.

"How long are you going to take me captive then?"

"Assuming that I'll even let you go in the first place," he shrugged.

I stared at him in horror. I felt his hand on my arm, the ghost of his touch tickling me, higher and higher up until it reached my hair. He stroked my hair like a parent soothing their child.

I gasped when he slightly tugged on it, I was expecting a sting on my scalp, but nothing. He went back to stroking my hair again, then tugging it ever so slightly. I made the mistake of sighing at his touch.

"You like that?" he murmured.

I didn't respond. I felt confused like I have never been before. Not to say that I'm happy that I was a prisoner in his arms, but my body began relaxing before I knew it.

He started tracing random patterns on my back, rendering me even more confused. Strands of my hair were also tucked behind my ear. "Pretty," he murmured again. "It would be a shame if I just..."

I groaned when he tugged my hair a little harder, enough for me to look up at him, but not enough for him to pull my hair out. "Ow!"

"Stop trying to untie them," he pointed at the wrists. "It's not going to work."

I gritted my teeth aggressively. Damn it, I thought, I thought he wouldn't notice me tinkering with the rope as he played with my hair and touched my back.

My eyes widened when he slowly leaned forward, his face getting close to mine. I panicked, a short burst of adrenaline rushed through me as I pulled myself free from his grasp.

I swung my fists forward, a shocked look passed through Min's face, barely missing his face he quickly ducked down to avoid my hit. I squeaked when he grasped my wrists painfully and pushed me away rather roughly.

"Not bad," he laughed. "That would have been really bad if you actually hit me, yes?"

I ran off in a hurry, but quickly got stopped by the restriction the rope gave me. I hissed in pain, it had managed to dig into my skin a bit and leave red, angry welts on it.

Min frowned at me, his eyes softening as he stared at me trying to soothe the pain. He stood looking at me a few feet apart, his hand outstretched a bit towards my direction as if he wanted to beckon me over.

"You," I exhaled. "You stay where you're at, and stay away from me."

His lips twitched up in delight. "Or what?"

I blabbered like a fish, my mouth agape as my brain went into overdrive. What the hell is wrong with this man? I must've said that aloud, because the way he grinned at me with a look of amusement was making me nervous.

"I'm going to scream," I informed him.

He smiled. "Go ahead."

And so I did. I screamed, I yelled, I shouted, I screeched like a banshee like my life depended on it - well, technically, it does - and I did this for five minutes straight, but nothing.

I wasn't soft at it either, I was yelling. Min was leaning on a nearby wall with his arms crossed, silently watching me and letting me do my thing.

I was extremely frustrated at this point. Now that I think about it, it's extremely abnormal to have absolutely nobody around, but then, I remembered that it was a Friday night and everybody was either already resting or getting drunk out of their minds. It didn't help that the subway was also underground.

"It's just you and me, doll face," he stated, biting his bottom lip and chewing on it a bit. "Save yourself the trouble."

"You can't possibly keep me here forever," I scoffed at him.

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "I don't see why that's a bad idea."

"If you think I'm not going to put up a fight with you, then you're sorely mistaken," I sarcastically remarked, pausing when I felt my wrists sting again.

"I'd like to see you try," he chuckled, the sound of his raspy voice echoing all over the station. It further solidified the emptiness of the place.

I thought about my next move carefully. He doesn't want money, and to be fair, I had nothing much to offer anyway. He's calm and collected, that means he knows exactly what he is doing. He has a rope, for God's sake, what else can possibly have?

"I'd really like to go home now, I'm exhausted and I have no time for your games, Min, seriously," I pleaded, hoping to try my luck on the poor damsel distress act.

"You don't really have to do anything," he shrugged. "I'm not going to make you do what you don't want to do."

I raise my brow at him with a sarcastic lift of my tied hands. He laughed a little. "That doesn't count," he laughed, his chest rising up and down.

I scoffed loudly. "What?" I barked. "Are you for real? How deranged are you? Why are you really doing this?"

He watched me intently, staring at me directly in the eye without blinking. His sharp eyes made me so uncomfortable, like he was undressing me from where I stood just by the motion of his eyes.

His lips lift into a smirk. "Because I can."

Steam started coming out of my ears. I don't care if he kills me or does whatever he wants, I was mad. "Really? Is your birthstone crystal meth?" I sassed, rolling my eyes at him to emphasize my point.

Min raises his brows so high his thick glasses couldn't cover them, then he looks down on the floor, but not before I saw the smallest smile on his face. It was probably the most genuine one I've seen tonight. He was trying not to laugh.

"What a mouth you have, you sweet little thing," he chuckled. "How about you come closer to me right now?"

"But you said you're not going to make me do things I don't like," I frowned.

His sharp eyes narrowed, staring into my wary ones. "And I stand by that."

He pointed at my wrists with his index finger. I didn't realize he was wearing a lot of rings on his hands, but this one in particular had a nice black ring. "That looks like that hurts."

I stared down at my wrists. Indeed, they were close to being ugly and painful blisters because of how much friction I was causing them, friction I barely noticed because of the adrenaline rush and survival instinct to free myself of this damned thing.

"It does," I admitted. "Because you're letting me suffer by not letting me go."

He shook his head. "That's a strong word. I can make it better," he offered softly.

"How?"

A sly smirk makes its way on his plump lips. He pats the wall beside him, his stare not wavering a bit. "Come," he said softly.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head. "Absolutely not," I snapped. "I'd rather let my wrists rot."

"You sure?"

He was waving a tube of a familiar generic ointment you'd see everywhere, the cocky twinkle in his eyes palpable. I gulped, the stinging sensation on my skin getting a bit more intense at the sight of what could be temporary relief on my end.

But alas, I chose to turn around and ignore him. I heard him sigh loudly from behind me and the distinctness of his cardigan rustling as he moved from his position.

"Seriously now," he began. When I still had my back turned on him and still completely ignoring him, he sneered. "Alright, whatever, I guess."

I peered over at him and saw him leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed again, staring me down. I hissed loudly when I accidentally angled my arm wrong, causing the rope to dig in a bit and rub against the sensitive parts of my skin.

"Fine," I scowled. I held my hand out in the air. "Toss it."

He laughed, his deep, hoarse voice booming towards me. If he wasn't such a jerk, I might have found that sexy. He grinned, taunting me by wiggling his fingers back and forth.

"No, no, no, sweetie pie," he sneered. "You're going to come here and get it from me."

The colour from my face drained. I bit my lip apprehensively, and I didn't miss the dark and dismal look in his eyes. I don't want to go to him in case he does something shady, but is it better than being restrained?

I scowled at him. Unfortunately, nothing was better than this. My legs felt like lead, heavily treading towards him. He gave me an amused look because I had to crane my head upwards just so I could look at him.

I couldn't help the blush that reddened my ears. Darn this man, he was unfairly good looking. The way he looked at me made my insides flip upside down with anticipation and I did not like it one bit.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

"Actually," he clicked his tongue. "I don't think so."

My brain had a major explosion. I widened my eyes at him. "That deal has already sailed," he smiled, patting my nose with his finger. "My God, you're cute," he commented when I grimaced at him.

"Please, they really hurt," I whined. I wasn't lying at this point, I had sensitive skin due to eczema and the littlest irritation can lead to the worst flare ups that usually last from a couple of weeks to a month depending on how bad they get.

He stared at me with a blank expression, though it is not to be mistaken with nonchalance, no. I can tell he was already calculating in his head on what he should do next.

He puts a finger on his chin, lightly stroking his thumb over it as his scorching gaze pierced through mine. I gulped when he suddenly brought his glasses lower on the bridge of his nose as his eyes peered from above the thick glasses.

His eyes were much sharper than I thought they were when the glasses weren't obstructing them. I had this urge to fold in on myself when he studied me deeper. I have never felt this exposed in my entire life before and I was fully clothed. Warmth spread on my entire lower groin.

"Hands up," he instructed, pushing his glasses back up. I was told and he held the knots that bound me. "I'm going to untie you so I can apply the ointment."

Before I could celebrate the tiny hope he had given me, he continued. "If you try to run away," he said softly, still looking at me. "I'm going to force you back. I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded. His fingertips trace my whole arm, smirking when he noticed the goosebumps he had caused, all the way down to my wrists. My breath hitched when he blew on my blistering skin to attempt to calm the redness down.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, his tone soothing my ears with tenderness. "Hold still, yeah? I promise I'll be gentle..."

He worked on the complicated knots he had made, tugging at them until they slowly loosened. He gently and carefully lifted the rope off and caressed the sensitive skin underneath, and just like that I was untied.

Then I made a run for it.

I ran as far as my legs could carry me, and before I knew it I had ran deeper into the isolated part of the station, but I didn't care as long as I could get away from that lunatic. I'll find somewhere temporary to hide and wait until he leaves so I can---

I screamed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and hoisted over Min's left shoulder, my bottom up in the air and my legs flailing around.

"Put me down!" I cried, hitting his back with my fists angrily.

"Behave."

I shut my mouth at his clipped tone. I did, however, let out another scream in surprise when I felt his hand come down my behind harshly.

Spanking my ass was definitely the last thing I thought he'd do in this ridiculous situation. I was tempted to smack his butt back since it was literally in front me, but I decided against it.

"You're being an awfully naughty girl right now, don't you think?" I can practically hear the smirk on his voice as he walked a bit.

I was set down rather delicately, but I can't say the same when he pushed me against a nearby wall because it was rough. I whimpered when he grabbed my hands and put them up and also pressed them against the wall.

"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.

He was so close to my face, so close that if he only leaned a bit our lips would touch. "What would you like me to do to you?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

"Let me go."

"Except that."

"I will report you to the authorities, someone has to find us eventually," I threatened, or at least that's how it sounded in my ear.

He tilted his head in amusement. "With what information?"

He was right. I only have a first name, but not a family name. He laughed, but his grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can tell them the name I gave you, if that is even my real name, then yes, by all means, sweetheart."

I mustered up the courage to speak. "So what is it, then?"

"Why do you wanna know? So you can scream it for me?"

I looked at him in disgust. "Seriously," I rolled my eyes.

He chuckled lightly. "Hands. And no running."

This time he actually applied the ointment for real on my hands. The way he spread the soothing balm all over the affected area made me sigh in relief, to which he smiled. If we weren't in the most unusually messed up situation right now, I might have swooned at how sweet he was being.

He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, however. The rope was back on my wrists, albeit looser this time.

"Are you going to tell me your real name?" I inquired as we both sat down on the filthy floor of the subway station, our backs leaning against the cool wall.

He met my eyes, the brown orbs analyzing me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You're insufferable."

"What are you willing to give me in return?"

I paused, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. I sighed in defeat when I couldn't think of literally anything. But his smirk told me otherwise.

"What are you doing?" I asked apprehensively at his onslaught.

My eyes widened when his fingers traced my cheeks, down to my jawline, and towards my lips. I was frozen on the spot. "You should moisturize your lips often, love," he whispered.

He pulls on my bottom lip and gently sticks his fingertips in between my lips. "Open up for me."

I put my bound hands on top of his to attempt to push him away, but he was stronger. "Are you being serious right now?" I gaped at him.

"Tick tock, the deal won't be on the table for long," he shrugged.

I glared at him. "You'll give me what I want if I do it?"

His smirk widens. "Yes."

I sighed in defeat, opening up my mouth ever so slightly, but his long, thick fingers forced them to open wider anyway. Butterflies started to form in my stomach and I looked everywhere except him. God, this felt weirdly intimate for some reason.

"Suck."

"Now hold on just a minute," I backed away, effectively swatting his hand away in annoyance. "You did not just ask me to do what I thought you did."

"But I did," he replied cockily.

"I can't believe you!" I exclaimed, incredulous at the ridiculous request.

I was so annoyed at this point and I wanted nothing but to bang my head against the concrete floor after I banged his.

"You know what to do if you want something out of me," he was tracing my lips again with his finger.

I heaved a long sigh, swallowing all the pride I had and grabbed his arm and with that, I put his index, middle, and ring finger in my mouth while I maintained eye contact with him.

He stared at me with hooded eyes, his gaze significantly darkening with every passing second. He let out a deep groan when I made slurping sounds as I lapped his fingers like it was the tastiest thing I have ever had. I swirled my tongue all over his fingers and even gave his palm a lick.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down repeatedly, especially when I bit his fingers softly. I alternated between that, licking, and as well as sucking. I was definitely being filthy with it, and it was absolutely humiliating to do whatever this was.

His other hand pushes my head off gently and he withdraws his fingers from my mouth. He sighed sensually when my drool dripped down from his fingers to all over his hand.

"Here," his voice was thick. I froze when he traced my lips again, but this time, he coated them with my own saliva. "Now they're not dry anymore," he smirked.

He didn't stop there. I stopped breathing when he put the very same fingers in his own mouth. He chuckled at my dumbfounded expression.

The desire that flashed through his eyes took me aback a little when I realized I was trying to discern his taste by smacking my mouth obnoxiously. I blushed, I wasn't doing it on purpose, he had this salty, sensual taste to him that took my breath away.

"So, uhm, what is it?" I questioned, not missing the tremor my voice now held.

"Oh. It's Song."

I waited a couple of seconds for him to continue, but when I realized that he wasn't going to, my patience thinned significantly. "That's it?" I hissed. "Song what?"

"That wasn't part of the deal, you have to be specific next time," he shrugged with his eyes closed, but I can see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Ugh! Have you no shame?!"

He slowly opened his eyes, staring at me intently, then leaned a little closer to my face. "If I did," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave lower. "You wouldn't be here right now."

I instinctively leaned away from him. "At least you're aware ," I mumbled.

It must be closer to midnight now, I can feel it, we've been at this ridiculous game of cat and mouse for a while now. I sighed deeply while I pictured my cat, King, waiting for me home. It's a good thing I overfilled his water and snack bowl today, I just had a gut feeling. Unfortunately, I was correct.

"Penny for your thoughts, water lily?" he asked all of a sudden.

I scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "None of your damn business," I spat.

"That's too bad," he chuckled. "I was hoping to barter an exchange with you again."

That made my ears perk up and my eyes twinkle, but I wasn't buying it. He's cunning, sly, and manipulative. There was no way in hell I was trusting anything he said at this point.

A certain slashing sound sliced through the air and in my peripheral vision, I saw Min holding something in his hand and twirling it around like it was a toy.

I whipped my head back towards him in curiosity and his smirk grew wider at the small gasp I let out.

"Change your mind yet?" he questioned with a beam.

There was a softness to his appearance in conjunction to his rugged features. Truth be told, he was probably the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life and I don't think I will ever find another one that will come close.

I scoffed. "Not only do you have a rope, but you also have a pocket knife on you like it's the most normal thing in the entire world."

I groaned, swinging my head back and the back of it against the wall in frustration. "What the hell is happening to me lately," I cursed.

I felt something soft instead of the hard wall when I leaned back again.

"What can I say? Having both is part of my work," he muttered, his hand sandwiched between my head and the wall. "Stop before you hurt yourself."

"Work? Well, what are you? A mobster?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He blinked at me a couple of times before he burst out laughing. He was actually laughing, and my heart jumped at the pleasant sound. I stared at him as his body vibrated with mirth, his eyes formed into these tiny crescent as they disappeared from his mouth stretched out in a charming grin. Even his laugh was so damn attractive.

"Why?" he grinned, wiping an imaginary tear from underneath his glasses with the same hand that held hy head from the wall. "Do I look like one to you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, frowning at him. "Are you?"

He surveyed me when he calmed down, gauging I was serious at knowing the answer to my question, but after a moment, he shook his head as he watched me carefully.

"No," he denied with a small smile.

Another laugh escaped him when he saw my irritated expression and amusement was all his eyes showed as he watched me try to cross my arms but failed since my hands were literally bound together and it was borderline impossible to even do anything remotely close.

"Uncomfortable?" he clicked his tongue.

I glared at him intensely. "What do you think?" I hissed, extremely annoyed at the fact that I can't even do anything. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I am," he replied, angering me. "Very much so, actually. But I'd enjoy it more if you'd just give in to me."

"Not a chance," I jeered with an aggravated sigh. "So if Min isn't your real name, what do I call you then?"

"Min's good for now," he shrugged, twirling the knife again expertly in his nimble hands. "And what a shame, I can be good for you, you know?"

I wanted nothing but to slap the smug look on his face to oblivion. "I think I can live without knowing what that's like," I snorted.

His brows knit together. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "I guess we'll be here for a while."

When he saw me glaring daggers, no pun intended, at the small pocket knife he held in his hands, he twirled them faster, tempting me to just stand up and kick his balls as hard as humanly possible so I could get it.

But along that was the underlying fear that I truly didn't know what he truly wanted with me. That, alone, makes me even more terrified of being here.

I gulped apprehensively and his face switched to something else when he noticed. "You're not going to use that on me, are you?" I pointed at the blade.

He shook his head. "No. Not now, not ever. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Besides," he continued. "If you come to me by force, then I don't want it."

He smirked at me suggestively, to which I scoffed softly, but loud for him to hear. "I'm too good for you," I rolled my eyes at him.

Well. Not entirely. In any normal circumstances, someone like him wouldn't even be in the same room as me. I couldn't point my finger at it at first, but a man this self-assured and dauntless must be someone of higher authority and money, I was sure of it.

"That, you are, my peach," he agreed. Something surges in his eyes when he noticed the blush that covered my cheeks.

God, his eyes. There was a lifetime of struggle in there that has never been put into words. His face in general, he was out of my league.

He glances at my bound wrists and for a second, I thought he was going to set me loose. My eyes widened when he put the sheath back on the blade and set it aside, instead.

"What?" he taunted. "You don't want to cooperate."

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath in defeat. "I'm at a total loss right now. You want me to exchange you something, correct?"

He nods enthusiastically. "But not the knife?" I quipped.

"I don't want to let you go yet," he shook his head.

"I am aware..."

A small smile forms on his face as his brows shoot up, waiting for me to continue. "But I have nothing more to offer you," I rambled. "I have nothing on me that will interest you."

"And that, my little dove," he hummed. "Is where you're wrong."

Hot, red anger coursed through my veins when he dug into the pockets of his black cardigan and took out my wallet.

"Where did you even get that?" I seethed.

He shrugged. "Take a wild guess."

I wanted to scream in disbelief. He must've gotten his hands on it when he carried me earlier. I had a terrible habit of putting my wallet in the back pocket of any pants I wore.

"Even if I let you go, how would you get home?" he said. "Taking the subway meant you lived a decent distance from here."

He was right. Walking was out of the question because if I did, I would walk three hours. The subway cut the journey into half an hour.

I stared at him, calculating how I would get my wallet out of his claws and taking him down at the same time.

"Don't even think about it," he laughed. "I'm much bigger than you, and you know it."

"What do you want, Min?" I sighed in desperation. "Tell me what is it that you want so you can let me go, what do you want from me?"

He tilted his head to meet my eyes, slowly jutting his arms out to reach towards me and touch my chin lightly. He titled my face gently in his direction, and I was able to meet his eye as well.

"I want you," he spoke softly. "You would think that tying you up would make that very obvious."

I couldn't look away from his burning gaze even if I tried; I could have held it forever. His eyes were dangerously penetrating, he looked pure male at this very moment.

"Tying me up is not the solution, though, you psycho," I frowned at him.

"Humour me this," he uttered, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. "It's almost midnight and when you get to the sub, there's a big, scary man waiting in there, wanting to say hi..."

He paused, waiting for me to internalize the imagery. When it dawned on me, I sighed. "See what I mean, babygirl?" he chuckled.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. "Also your logic is ass."

He smirked, ignoring my statement. "Call you what?"

My scowls deepened when his eyes slowly trailed down from my eyes to my chest. He laughed when I lifted my wrists to attempt to hide them, but there was no point. I growled for him to look away, but of course, he was who he was and he only stared at me, not saying anything back.

His gaze wasn't uncomfortable, rather, there was a hint of wonder in them and it made my breathing constricted and shallow.

I know that look - it was scheming. The lasciviousness in which he stared at me was shamefully making my core ache, the patch of wetness staining my underwear was proof enough.

He sat straighter and his form, especially his upper torso, became bigger. He inched closer to me. "Kiss me," he whispered breathily.

There was a bomb that went off in my brain. I blinked owlishly at him. "Excuse me?"

He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "You heard me, Y/N. I want you to want me."

He licked his lips, his eyes clouding over when I shivered involuntarily when his deep, sultry voice said my name like he was praying for me to say yes.

His brows raise and his eyes widen a bit when I start to advance, leaning my face very slowly towards his face. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and his eyes flutter close as he held his breath.

Instead, I went to his ear as closely as possible and whispered, "Go kiss the wall instead, you sick fuck."

I didn't know what else to say, but more so, I didn't want him to see that he was getting to me little by little. He was manipulative, calculating, and conniving.

"God," he let out a groan that sounded like a tortured animal. He closed his eyes tightly as if in pain. "You're such a tease, little tart..."

He banged his head a couple of times on the same wall he stopped me from banging my head down. He rested his head on it for a while.

I couldn't help but stare at his face and how peaceful it looked when his face was relaxed. I couldn't believe this was the cocky and arrogant man that held me hostage.

He suddenly opened his eyes and they were darker than I previously saw, his smirk was dirtier too. "I'll give you your wallet back if you kiss me."

"Are you kidding me? Seriously?" I shrieked exasperatedly. "This is essentially blackmailing!"

"Call it whatever you want," he grinned. "But yes, I do agree."

"Now you're just doing this on purpose! You're going to get what you want anyway, why don't you just do it?"

He paused, his brow raised. "Okay," he shrugged.

Before I can process what was happening, Min lifted me from the ground and placed me on his lap, and now, I was straddling him. His heavy eyes were the last thing I saw before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards his lips.

"Wait--"

I whined on his lips, trying my very best to push his hard chest with my fists, but all that did was instigate him to wrap his arms around me and pull me even closer.

Surprisingly, he wasn't rough with it, but he wasn't gentle either - just desperate. I felt his tongue lick my lips, pushing them apart. He moaned lowly when I wasn't giving in, and his moan got louder when I unconsciously scratched his chest at those unholy sounds.

"Baby, please let me in," he rasped, his lips giving mine little kitten pecks as he spoke through the kiss. "Here, take this."

He momentarily broke the kiss and put my wallet in my pockets for me. I was frozen, I could feel both of our heartbeats going very fast, and I gasped when his hand squeezed my hips firmly.

"I can't do this," I said breathlessly.

He hushed me, leaning in and kissing my jawline slowly. I tensed under his touch, and he stops to hold my face between his hands.

"Relax," his breath was shallow as he looked me in the eye. His intense eyes lingered on my nervous face. "I'll be gentle, okay? Just give in to me, kitten, please."

He was about to lean again, but his black glasses kept hindering the movement. He cursed under his breath as he tried to adjust it.

"Take it off for me," he demanded, his voice taut.

"How?" I gulped, my brain blank with all the overwhelming sensation he was giving me.

"Use your teeth."

Panic started to take over my body. I could feel it trying to push itself out of my stomach, my chest, my throat, my head. I wanted to throw up. I whimpered when his hand went up to my waist and pressed on it, a jolt of pleasure shot down to my clenching wetness.

I swallowed, leaning towards his face, tingles spreading through my scalp as his eyes never left me as I took the black frame in between my teeth and spit it out.

I gasped when I saw his eyes, not because of how heated and impassioned they were, but because of what they literally looked like - dark, seductive, desperate.

I felt my heart constricting tightly. He was painfully beautiful, and looked so dangerous.

"Come here," he growled, crashing his lips against mine once more.

I gasped in pain when he roughly tugged my hair back. I was so taken aback when he forcefully put his tongue in. I refused to let my tongue play with his, mewling and struggling from his hold.

"Oh," I moaned quietly when he bit my lower lip, suckling it gently with a force that knocked the air out of me.

"You're insane, doll, the woman you are," he voice was thick with lust. "You're turning me on even more."

"Stop!" I squealed in abrupt pleasure when his hips bucked up, his hardening erection suddenly pressing on my clothed mound.

An animalistic growl tore out from his chest when he dominantly grabbed my ass and started pushing me in and out, manually grinding me on his hardness fast and hard.

"Oh my fucking God," he grunted, burying his face on the crook of my neck as he pulled me harder. "Oh, God, oh, shit.."

I was moaning along with him, pathetically savouring the feel of my warm heat dry humping his bulging hardness. I was ashamed of myself, for imagining how big he was based on how he felt.

The only thing to be heard in the empty subway station was our breaths, filthy kissing sounds, and the obscene moans from the both of us. Desire flowed through us, causing our bodies to melt against one another

He pulled away for a moment and I blushed at how red his face was and how bruised his lips already were. "I need to touch you," he croaked. "Can I touch you? I--"

"Hey, did you hear that?"

Cold reality washed over me as if a bucket of freezing ice was poured from my head in one go. I pushed him as hard as I could, as hard as my shame would take me, crawled out of his lap with disgust.

"Wait," he hissed, grabbing me by the arm as he stood up. I whimpered at his demeaning tone, but also how roughly he held my arm.

"Silence," he growled at me. "There's people in here."

The look on his eyes as he stood up and looked around, surveying the area to find the source of the random voice we just heard from the distance was alarming, and they frightened me.

I was disconcerted, I just made out with this man, and how was now compared to what he looked like underneath me was a contrasting difference. His sharp eyes were terrifying, one look will have you submitting to his control.

I paled. I had almost forgotten was dangerous this man actually was - that I was his prey to consume, and he was determined to play with his food before he devoured it.

He pulled me in front of him, pushing me lightly as he guided me to walk until he reached a dark corner that would hide us from anyone. It's not the best hiding spot, but it was the fastest we could find.

But wait a minute, why were we hiding?

It was as if he knew what I was thinking and he covered my mouth with his hand before I could muster up a scream.

"Do not," he warned. "Nobody goes in this area unless they're looking for something," he paused, tensing up behind me. "Or someone."

My eyes widened when it clicked. He was right, this area was a well known spot for mob deals and other shady businesses. It was an unspoken secret that everyone knew, but chose not to comment on. An infamous eight-membered group ruled this area frequently, and while they never deemed terror, their name alone sparked chills on everyone.

Footsteps got closer and closer until there were two people who stood on the spot where me and Min were sitting down. I froze, they were mobsters - the black suits gave it away.

"I could have sworn I heard something in this area," a man with a shorter stature murmured, looking around in the darkness with a stony face.

"'Have' is the keyword," the other taller man with the most intimidating face mocked. "I'm going to kill him when I find him."

"Relax, Seonghwa. Don't get your panties in a twist."

The taller one, Seonghwa, glared hard at his companion. "And I'm going to kill you with him, Hongjoong, if you don't shut your face."

My captor scoffed lightly behind me, his breath fanning my ear. I elbowed him to shut up, and his jerk reaction was to tighten his hold on me. I wanted to scream, I didn't even notice his arms around me.

I felt him lift my hair up and move it to the side to expose my neck. I dug my nails on his arms at the pleasure he gave my sweet spots.

"You smell so good," he whispered sensually, sucking on my neck. I stifled a moan when he bit hard. "I want to hear you so bad," he groaned.

While the two mobsters bickered back and forth, there was me and Min hiding in a dark corner, hoping to not be seen, yet he's making it utterly difficult.

I staggered backwards, my mind swirling with nothing but bliss, my breaths shallow and heavy. His hands slowly trekked upwards..

"Wait no, please, we can't do this here," I pleaded, quickly stopping his hand from fondling my tits.

"We sure can," he pushed my hand away forcefully, but I used my other hand to scratch him.

His body stiffened. "That wasn't very nice of you," he jeered. I gulped.

My paranoia triggered when his other hand wrapped around my throat, choking the words out of me. Whatever false sense of hope I had that he wouldn't hurt me when out the window.

"You've been testing me, little doll, and quite frankly?" He was indifferent, his voice not betraying his emotions. "I am getting sick and tired of it."

"Please," I whimpered when he squeezed the sides of my neck. "It doesn't feel good..."

He chuckled, something sinister lay brewing underneath. "But it does, don't lie to me."

I clawed his hand repeatedly, but he wasn't budging. "You said you wouldn't force me to do what I didn't want," I cried quietly.

"I know," he agreed. "But your eyes are telling me otherwise."

He pulled on the rope, forcing my wrists down permanently, as he went and did whatever his desires told him to do.

"Are you gonna be good if I let your neck go?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. I nodded apprehensively. "That's a good girl."

He unbuttoned my blouse just enough for my bra to get exposed, and I had to suppress a moan when cold air hit my skin, but not for long as Min's hand hastily pushed my bra down to fully expose my average sized tits.

Soft groans escaped him as he roughly fondled them in his hands and I couldn't help my own groans. "Hush," he kissed my neck. "You don't want them to hear you."

He put his fingers at my open mouth and I used them to plug the sounds of pleasure threatening to spill out of me. God, his rough hands felt too good against my skin.

His mouth was on mine again as he held my stiff nipples with his nimble fingers. It sent jolts of desire all over my body.

"Do you feel good?" he murmured in between the kisses. When I ignored him, he bit my lower lip. "Answer me, love."

"Mhhm," I hummed, and he seemed to let that go for now.

I gasped when he squeezed them hard, the overstimulation of him alternating between rough and tender almost made me want to come undone. All I could do was mewl as he toyed with my body.

"I'll go to the other corner, Joong. Keep looking there," I heard Seonghwa mutter before his footsteps receded. I almost forgot they were still here.

"Doesn't the thrill feel good?" Min smirked, attacking my neck again and leaving pretty bruises on them.

"For you," I sighed. "You're the only one enjoying it. Seriously, how can you do this? How can you take advantage of me while we're supposed to be hiding from the mafia?"

"Ever so sarcastic, my pretty princess," he snorted.

While one hand massaged my tits, the other went south - going lower, lower, and lower until I felt him stop at the hem of my pants. My heart rate picked up.

"You're going to enjoy it too," he said softly. "I'm going to touch you, okay? I want to feel you, I need it so bad..."

The desperation in his voice caught me off guard, it shamefully made my pussy clench onto nothing as wetness covered it entirely.

"A-And if I say no?" I stuttered.

"I will push you out and give you to those two turds out there."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't," I gasped. He wouldn't let two mobsters who can kill me take me, right?

"My queen," he whispered, possessively pulling me closer in the tight space we were hiding in. "Remember this, I have never, and never will, given you opportunities where there was no way out of them."

I gulped. He was right, and I hated him for it, but that's what made him manipulative - he would give me these options that he carefully crafted and no matter what I chose, it will always end up with him getting what he wanted one way or another.

These options weren't for me to feel safe; he was merely giving me a chance to do things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, they were still his way.

"You were doomed the moment I laid my eyes on you," he stated darkly. "Oh, my sweet little peach..."

I closed my eyes tightly as he worked his way inside my pants, cupping the throbbing heat of my core. He nudged my legs apart with his foot, but I wasn't giving up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he exhaled a sharp breath. "Relax, love, I'm going to make you feel good, I promise."

"I'm scared," I whimpered with raw honesty. Danger was still looming around us with Hongjoong and Seonghwa lingering around the area.

He didn't reply, instead he brushed his plump lips all over my neck and my now exposed shoulders. I couldn't help the tiny moans coming out of me as he worshiped my body gently. I suppose it worked, it calmed me down.

I heard his sharp intake of breath followed by a throaty moan when I leaned my head back against his shoulder so he could have access to my neck. "Stay like this," he groaned.

"Please," I choked when his fingers pushed my underwear apart and gently rubbed my slit up and down.

He grunted deeply, hungrily. "This is for me, yes?"

I whined at the absence of his touch when he pulled his fingers out and quickly reddened at the sight of his fingers coated with my juices within seconds of touching me.

It was obscene and it shouldn't have been so arousing, the wet sounds coming from my pussy when he parted my lips with his fingers again, but this time, he went straight into my clit, rubbing delicious circles on it.

My moans were borderline pornographic when he finally inserted a finger inside me and stars blinded my vision for a bit when he pinched my nipple at the same time. He slid his fingers in and out with a fastening pace, the wet sounds of it echoing all over the corner we were in.

"Shit, baby, your cunt feels so good, oh God," his deep moans kept hitting my ear and he smirked when I became impossibly wetter. "Say you want more, Y/N."

I whimpered in protest when his fingers stopped all of a sudden. "Fucking say it, then. Say you want more," he demanded with a furious growl.

"I want more!" I cried, tears falling from my eyes. "Please, Min, just please, I-I want more---ah!"

He roughly drove two fingers back in me and I could have exploded when he licked my tears. His long fingers were deep inside me, curling them as he searched for that particular spot. I bit his arm to avoid being too loud when he found it.

This angle had my swollen clit directly on his thumb and he applied pressure just enough until I started tightening on his fingers.

"We're leaving, there's nothing in here."

I'm not sure if that was Hongjoong or Seonghwa at this point, but I didn't care to know, I didn't realize how weird it was that they were announcing it at this time, not when Min had finally let loose when he practically dragged me out of our hiding spot.

He hastily took his cardigan off, set it down on the floor, and pushed me down on it so I could lay down on the floor. I yelped when he roughly shoved my pants down, leaving me completely exposed to him as he loomed on top of me.

And just like that, his fingers were back inside me again, sliding them in and out of me. The way his face looked in this light, I will never forget it. He looked more fucked out than me and he was the one getting me off.

"I-I think I'm, uhm," I moaned when his fingers down there got rougher, faster, harder and he just stared at me with lust-filled eyes as he finger fucked me.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N," he groaned.

I feel my orgasm approaching me fast and hard like an oncoming train. He finger fucks me even faster than before as he took in my pleasure filled face.

"I'm so c-close," I moaned loudly. "M-Min, oh shit, Min---"

"Mingi," he grunted, his eyes never leaving mine. "My name is Mingi."

He leans over to kiss me quickly before leaning up again. "I want my name on your lips when you come, okay?"

"Mingi!"

With that, I let go. Wave after wave of pleasure plummet my body and I scream his name, his real name. He was moaning with me and I saw him resisting to close his eyes so he can watch me come until I was exhausted and shaking, until he couldn't.

"Say my name," he growled, leaning down and burying his head on my neck as he slowed his fingers down. "Say my fucking name."

My throat was hoarse by the time I was done wailing his name. I was out of it for a while, Min - Mingi - kept giving me tiny little kisses here and there wherever his lips touched. He shushed me as he let go for a while, pulling out and sucking the fingers he used to make me come.

I watched him put my underwear and pants back on as if he didn't just give me the most mind blowing orgasm. When the ecstasy subsided and died down, I wept.

"You're okay," he would keep assuring, lifting me from the ground and embracing me in his hard chest. "Shh, don't cry. You did so well for me..."

He buried my face on his shoulders as he embraced me, patting my back soothingly as I let my tears fall from the overwhelming feeling my body felt.

I am so ashamed of myself. This was wrong. I wasn't supposed to want my captor, the one who kept blackmailing me. I felt immense guilt and distraught. The pleasure I felt was so good, but it made me feel so dirty.

"I am no different than a harlot," I sniffled against his skin.

He sighed deeply. "You're not."

We stayed like that for a while - me just letting my feelings pass and him patiently waiting for me to finish. He would whisper comforting words as he gave me pecks here and there, wiping my tears away. It felt so wrong.

"So," I cleared my throat, pulling away from him and sitting beside him instead. "Song Mingi, huh?"

He nodded. "How do I know you're not lying?" I questioned, the doubt clear on my face.

Mingi looked a little offended. "My queen," he spoke. "I may have tweaked our deals a little bit, but I never lied to you once."

I hate how right he was. "Stop calling me that," I murmured. "It feels a little intimate. Why do you keep calling me that?"

Mingi smirked at me, taking my wrists in his hand and working on the knots. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

My eyes widened. "No," I rejected. "No more deals, please."

He laughed that deep and attractive laugh of his, concentrating on untying the rope, tugging on it repeatedly, until it became loose, and he guided my hands until I was completely free. I breathe a sigh of relief, pulling my hands to myself and stretching them over and over to make them mobile again.

"What's the catch?" I frowned. He wouldn't just do this for free.

"God, I love how perceptive you are," Mingi remarked flirtatiously. "But no, nothing. I just want to get you cleaned up."

He juts his finger in a random direction. "I have my car outside, we can clean you up there. I have water too. Then you can go."

I was at a loss for words. "Really?"

"Really," Mingi confirmed.

When I gave him the 'go' signal, Mingi proceeded to carry me in his arms, swooping me in one go, and he carried me like a blushing bride. I wasn't a bride, but I was blushing. I knew he was strong, but this was crazy strong. I wasn't the lightest person out there.

I didn't even protest when he started walking out of there, I was too tired to argue, and I saw his eyes twinkle when I leaned my head on his chest as he walked.

"You were never going to ride the train in the first place, weren't you?" I whispered all of a sudden. He had a car outside of a subway station.

Mingi raised a brow as he looked down on me. "No."

"And those two mobsters, the mafia, they were looking for you."

He was smirking this time. "Yes."

"You were going to escape from them, weren't you?"

"Sure."

"What do you owe them?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, my queen."

"Please?"

Mingi pauses, staring at me. Then he sighs and relents. "Money."

"Is that what was in your backpack?"

"Do you actually want to get fucked? You're still very sentient, babydoll. Maybe my dick will shut you up---"

"You forgot your glasses inside!" I blurted out, my voice raising by one pitch in embarrassment. I felt my face heating up with his straightforwardness.

Mingi gives me a confused, incredulous look before he opens the door to his car and sets me down comfortably on the plush seats. "I never needed them," he cryptically said.

"Nice ride," I murmured, taking in the luxurious interior and the modern technology attached to it.

He hummed in response, handing me a bottle of water to which I drank greedily. It could have been poisoned, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns. He lowered the windows so I could also use the water to rinse my face and hands.

"What now?" I questioned.

Mingi gave me a small smile. "You can do whatever you want, go home if you will."

"You sure?" I blurted out before realizing how stupid that was.

He laughed, realizing it as well. "I'm sure, Y/N."

It felt surreal at the moment. It was as if what happened between us was just a figment of my imagination, and it made me even more anxious. It was a little too easy.

"How am I gonna get home at this time," I sighed to myself rather than question it. It was well after midnight and the buses were all gone at this point and I didn't have enough money to get a cab.

"You know how to drive?" he lazily asked, looking at the distance out into the empty city.

"Yeah, I do," I replied, not sure where he was going with this.

Mingi nodded, tossing me the keys, and I caught it in surprise. "She's all yours," he said.

My eyes widened. "W-What?"

"The car, Y/N, it's yours now," he chuckled. "Drive home, and take care of her for me, yes? She was my favourite."

"Hold the hell on, Mingi," I blabbered. "Are you high right now? You can't just say things like that!"

"Think of it as a gift," he shrugged.

I stared at him in confusion when he got out and walked around the car, knocking on the passenger window where I was. I quickly crawled to the driver's seat and pressed the window open.

"H-How about you? How will you go home?" I stammered, genuinely concerned. "I'm just borrowing your car, right?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "No. Don't worry, I have more where that came from."

"You used the money you stole from the mafia?"

His eyes widened a bit before he burst out laughing. "More or less," he snorted. "But seriously, do you not like it?"

I scoffed. "Of course I do, this is a Bugatti, for fuck's sake!"

"Ah," he dismissed. "It's a Centodieci, it's not that much."

Damn right, I thought. I suppose I deserve this after all the crap and assault he subjected me to, but still, it felt wrong.

When he saw me biting my lip, hesitating, Mingi chuckled, and he was about to answer, but headlights suddenly blinded both of us. "Well," he spoke, tapping the car twice. "My ride's here."

My heart lurched out of my chest. The way Mingi was looking at me, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe and the best thing he could do was stare at it because he couldn't reach it. Mngi began walking away, straight to the other car, but I stopped him.

"Mingi, hold on," I called out. He paused from his steps, looking back at me expectantly. My words got stuck in my throat, and the only thing I could say was, "I'll see you around."

He chuckled, low and sinister, and I was thrown into a whiplash. "You don't want that, doll, trust me," he shook his head. "Don't tempt me right now."

"W-Why?"

He opened the door of the other car, leaning on it as he stared at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to run," he professed.

Right. I forgot how manipulative he was. "So run, Y/N, run far, far away," he continued, a daunting smirk on his face, "Because you're mine if we meet again."

And with that, he got in the car and it drove away, leaving me to stare at it as it disappeared from my view.

What did that even mean?

I drove away, apprehensively I might add, to get home. It was a breeze, I hate that I am now very in love with it. I got extremely dizzy when I realized it was voice powered too. Out of curiosity, I asked how much this car cost.

Bugatti Centodieci, top of the line, costs $8.8 million dollars as of 2024...

I almost swerved off the lane when I heard it. Was Mingi crazy? I scoffed, laughing maniacally.

Who was he? This can't be right. My insides quivered, no way it was this easy, surely there was a catch in between? He was cunning, what if him giving me the car was a part of his stupid games? I wouldn't put it past him.

And so, I drove home with an underlying guilt and heartbreak.

Mingi filled my thoughts all day and all night for the past month.

He was like a barnacle that didn't want to unstick from me and truth be told, it was getting extremely tiring. No matter what I did, I always saw him. I haven't been on any subway or train stations at all.

The worst part was that I didn't exactly know what this feeling was. At first, I thought it was fear - I was scared that he would come knocking on my door one day and claim me against my will, but no, nothing had happened.

I had so many questions left unanswered, questions that were giving me nothing but grievances, and in hindsight, a part of me wanted to see him again.

"Are you going to go have drinks with everyone tonight, Y/N?"

I paused from walking to turn around and found my co-worker, Wooyoung, at the restaurant where we both worked.

"I'm not too sure, Woo, I'm not really feeling well as of lately," I told him truthfully. This is Mingi's fault.

Wooyoung gives me a worried glance. "Everything okay, Y/N? Are you feeling sick?" he asked with a frown.

I gave him a halfhearted grin. He was always very sweet and I loved that about him. "Don't worry Woo, I'm just going to go home and rest," I twirled my car keys between my fingers and Wooyoung eyes it.

His eyes comically widen. "Wow, Y/N, you drive a car like that?" he says excitedly. "You always rode the bus though..."

I raised a brow. Has he always been this observant? Before I can question it, he snaps his fingers happily. "Can I see it? My brothers don't want me to drive," he pouted.

"Sure," I laughed and I guided him in the parking lot. "I overheard you talking to the others and mentioning that you had seven brothers?"

Wooyoung laughed. "Ah, that. We're not blood related, but we've been together all our lives. Blood isn't always thicker than water..."

We continued talking until I pointed the car to him. I started to go towards it, but I halted when I heard Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were wide as he stared at the black Bugatti, and I was amused.

"Where did you get this?" he inquired, his tone firm, his eyes piercing.

I was taken aback with Wooyoung's shift of attitude. He walked confidently towards the car, lightly trailing his fingers on the hood. Long gone was the cheery boy I knew him for.

"It's you," I heard him whisper.

My heart palpitated faster and faster when he walked towards me. "Stay here," was all he said when he walked away and called somebody.

I was so damn confused, what the hell was going on? Did Wooyoung know me outside of work? Oh God, I hope he didn't think I stole the car! I mean I get it, I earn shit in the restaurant as a server so I'd understand why he would think that.

Against my better judgment, I ran away from the parking lot into nowhere in particular. There was something dark looming over him in that odd conversation and I didn't want to be part of whatever that was.

As I was running hastily, I dropped the car keys. Cursing under my breath, I went back and tried to find where it dropped. I frowned when I realized where I was - in an isolated dark alley.

"Aha!" I exclaimed when I saw the keys and bent down to pick it up, but a foot stepped on it before I did.

I looked up to see three hooligans - tattoos, dank breath, yellowed eyes, you name it - grinning maliciously at me. I paled and it rendered me paralyzed.

"Well boys, looks like we got a jackpot right over here," the biggest man with the ugliest looking face grinned disgustingly. "You're the owner of that black baby in that parking lot!"

They all laughed rambunctiously to themselves. I was frightened, but I wanted to kick myself. Of course, the expensive car would've caught someone's eye sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be like this.

"P-Please," I whimpered, tears springing up my eyes. "I-I'll give it to you, you can have it, just don't hurt me..."

I gasped sharply when a skinny looking man grabbed me by my face and ogled. "You're hot," he leered. I almost threw up but I held it in. "Wanna play with us, doll? We'll give you a good time!

Tears started falling from my eyes. Mingi called me his doll, and it sounded heavenly from his lips. When they said it, I felt extremely insulted and violated.

"No, no, please!" I screamed when one of them held my arms and restrained me. "Stop!"

"Hold still!"

"No!" I bellowed. "I didn't get to where I am just to be manhandled by fuc---"

I choked, a stinging sensation on my right crippling me, the backhanded slap on my face was stronger than I thought and I hit the pavement below me. Was this the end? I groaned painfully when I felt myself being dragged on the ground.

My tears were free falling as I felt hands grope me in places I didn't want them to, but I couldn't do anything, black spots danced on my vision, but I still yelled, hoping someone would hear me.

"Stop it, please, take the car!" I shrieked, thrashing around, but that earned me another slap on the face.

"Damn, bitch, don't you ever shut up?" They laughed disgustingly. I cried out when I felt hands trying to lift my shirt up. "We're going to have so much fun---"

"What's going on here?"

The three hobos paused from their tracks, and froze when they saw the owner of the voice. I was in a haze, I probably had a concussion at this point. I could only hope that the new voice was here to help me...

I lay helplessly on the dirty ground and even though that felt terrible, at least I didn't feel their hands on me anymore, but I could still hear their conversation very well.

"B-Boss, greetings to you and your brothers," I heard them say as they bowed 90 degrees from where they stood.

In the distance, I saw three men standing straight, arms crossed in their chests except the one at the very front. I shrinked onto myself. They were the mafia.

They were Ateez, the 'A' symbol they wear on their suits was a dead giveaway. I panicked when I put two and two together. Were they going to hurt me too?

"Why are you imbeciles disturbing the peace?" a built man with the fiercest eyes I have ever seen sighed. He had this interesting reddish, pinkish hair.

"Wait," the other man with the deeper voice said. This one was handsome, his greenish, blackish hair suited him well. "You fuckers can't get it up so you terrorize a woman?"

"B-But, we know her," the three hoodlums lied. "We swear!"

A sudden panic attack tightens my chest and my breathing turns shallow. I'm so scared, and I am in pain right now. I groaned and everybody turned to look at me, but my haze couldn't make out faces clearly, especially their expressions.

Green haired man smirked. "Yeah?" he pointed at me. "Doesn't seem like it."

"I should kill you sons of bitches here," the pink haired one snarled, grabbing the gun he had and pointing it straight.

"Please, brother, spare us!" they shouted over and over again. I panicked, whimpering my ears to soothe the oncoming migraine I felt. I panicked even more when I realized I had blood, probably from my fall.

"Shut the fuck up---"

"San."

My eyes fluttered open as the world around slowly started to fade. That voice...

"Put the gun down," the third and last person spoke - the presumed boss. His voice was deep, calming, yet it induced fear in me.

"Why?" pink hair, San, growled.

"I won't tell you twice."

I tried, I really did, my best to glance at the tall man with the most lulling voice, at least to my ears. He was familiar, I just know that he was, it was breaking my heart trying to remember somebody who I couldn't at the moment.

I knew one thing - he was painfully beautiful, and the way he looked at me, it was like I was the brightest star in the universe, only this time, he can reach me and not just stare at me from afar.

He stepped forward, his strides powerful and domineering, and his eyes never leaving mine. There was something about him that felt different; he was dominant, compelling, and more dangerous than the other two.

"Step aside, maggots," he stated calmly, but so commanding.

"Boss, n-no offense," one brute interrupted, the one that slapped me to the pavement. "W-We really like t-this one, if you may--"

"Move."

"B-But---"

I saw the head mobster glance to his right. "Yeosang."

Green hair, Yeosang, nodded once and proceeded to roughly shove the thugs, apparently also mafia henchmen, to the side, giving them little punches and kicks here and there.

My head lolls and the muscles on my neck barely keep up with me. I can feel myself slowly slipping away. A shadow covers my view. He was so intimidating. He reaches his hand out, and I cower in response.

"No," I groggily shoved the head mafia's hand away from me. "Don't hurt me..."

He sighed, crouching down and sitting me down despite my protests. "Little dove, you know I would never," he whispered.

My heart started beating out of control as I stared at him closer. He was wearing this bluish suit along with a white dress shirt. Through my blurry vision, I can tell that he was the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life. I don't think anyone would come close...

I frowned. That train of thought. This wasn't the first time...

"Boss, my liege," I heard the ruffians speak. "Why are you forsaking us, your brothers, for some whore?"

I whimpered when I saw him take his sunglasses of, his eyes twitching, a glare of emotional coldness and complete disregard of anyone. It was terrifying.

"You dare call your queen a whore?"

That voice, that deep timbre, it brought a sense of relief to me. "Mingi?" I inhaled, shaking when it hit me.

His facade drops a bit, his eyes shining in relief, before it turns stone hard again.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, and the world never stopped for somebody like me. I was too far gone to acknowledge the sharp gasps.

I felt myself being carried and I automatically leaned into his hard chest. I was supposed to be terrified, frightened, but I was not. Everything seemed right at the moment and even if my head didn't know, my heart did.

I've felt this way before. I've been carried like this before. I've been in his safe embrace, wrapped in his heady scent.

I felt him plant a small kiss on my forehead as he carried me out of the alleyway. "You're safe now," Mingi whispered. "Let's go home, okay?"

I resisted, not wanting to go out just yet, but the tiredness and dizziness was catching up to me. As Mingi was about to completely walk out and go inside a car when we were stopped.

"Min, what do you want to do with them?" San asked. He then turned to me and bowed a bit. "Greetings, our queen."

I frowned, but that quickly turned into aghast when I watched Mingi hand Yeosang a handgun. "Beat the fuck out of them, Sannie, yeah?" he smirked sadistically.

He turned to Yeosang next with a smirk. "Then use that," he beamed darkly. "And use it well. Do not let me down, Yeo."

San and Yeosang look at each other, their eyes glazed with ruthless vigor. "With pleasure," Yeosang smirked.

I kept going in and out of consciousness every twenty minutes or so. I was in the backseat of a car.

And Mingi wasn't helping either. When I would try to shrug him off to just lay on my side to relax, he would possessively grab onto my waist and pull me to him.

"Stop it," I whined. "Thank you for saving me, but that doesn't give you the pass to touch me."

He hummed, not even bothering to respond. I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit today, so I shrug him off harder.

"Enough," he warned, a slight edge to his voice. "A month ago, you couldn't do it even if you tried." I hissed when he grasped my waist tighter. "It's like you never learned your lesson."

I blushed at the memory despite the haze. "Where are you taking me?" I cleared my throat pathetically. "My apartment is close to here."

Mingi stared at me before chuckling slowly. "Oh, you sweet, summer child..."

I shivered both in anticipation and fright. I can't be sarcastic with him like I did the last time I was with him. Song Mingi wasn't a regular person, I know that now. I have a sneaking suspicion who he was exactly, but the matter at hand wasn't that.

"Mingi, please, not now," I pleaded when he leaned towards me, stopping only a few inches from mine.

"You have forgotten what I told you before we parted ways," he murmured with a small smirk on his lips. "Surely, you didn't forget me that quick?"

"How could I forget you?" I glared. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met."

He smirked. "How could you forget?" I held my breath when he whispered softly. "When your cunt took my fingers so well?"

I inhaled a sharp breath when he gave my lips a small peck. "You're mine now," he whispered. "Don't you ever forget that."

I was about to retort something stupid, but I couldn't when I groaned in pain, clutching my head when a sudden headache stopped me.

"You're bleeding, my sweet pea," Mingi frowned, his fingers lightly touching the dried, caked blood on my forehead. He tutted. "That fuckface. Come here."

My cheeks reddened when Mingi lifted me and placed me on his lap. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him for support. "Jongho," he called, his deep, commanding voice booming all over the car with authority.

"Here," I heard a voice towards the front. I groaned when we hit a road bump.

"Careful, Jjong. Easy on the road," I heard Mingi sigh while he was rubbing my back in a slow manner. It was honestly soothing.

"Sorry," the driver, at least I assume him to be, apologized. "I've been driving for a while now, where to?"

There was a slight pause. "Doll?" Mingi whispered directly in my ear. "You're going to have to stay awake for us, okay?"

I buried my head on the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. "My head hurts," I whimpered. "They hurt me really bad..."

"Shh, I know, I know. Can you sleep?" he tenderly asked, his arms wrapping around me tighter. I nodded in response.

"That's a good girl," he said. "Yunho's, then. Think you can reach there in thirty, Jjong?"

"Of course," Jongho snorted. "But only if I get to stay and not clean up after Yeo and Sannie. They're brutes."

"Look at you telling me what to do," Mingi raised a brow when Jongho gave him a sheepish smile. "Fine. Wooyoung will do it."

""But I'm worried about her," Jongho glanced at me through the rear mirror. "She might get nauseous."

"I'm fine," I snapped, burying my head deeper into Mingi's neck. "Just fucking drive before my head splits in two. I'll apologize to you later."

I felt bad for cursing at him, given that this was the first time I've ever seen him. My first impression was the least of my concerns.

Both of them laughed for a couple of seconds. "I see you picked the right one," I heard Jongho chuckling at Mingi, his eyes glinting in amusement, but there was that same darkness that he held. "Hang tight, our queen."

Everything was such a blur afterwards, all I knew was that I wanted to rest and forget about everything. The moment my head hit the pillow, it was game over.

When I woke up, I found myself with the most agonizing headache. I clutched onto my head, it certainly felt like my skull was trying to get out of my head.

It took me a while to realize that I wasn't in my own room, rather, I was in the most luxurious room with the plushest king-sized bed, wrapped in the most velvety blanket and surrounded by the softest pillows.

Everything hit me at once - my overnight shift, almost being forced against my will, to being in Mingi's car. I was mad at myself for being so damn weak that I can't even fight back when the need arose. If Mingi and his group didn't come in time, I just know I'd be dead by now.

Or worse, sold off. That was absolutely worse than being dead.

"You're awake."

I looked around to find the source of the voice and there he was. At the foot of the bed, a tall man stood. He was taller than Mingi, and Mingi was damn tall, himself.

"Who are you?" I asked with a frown.

"The owner of this house," he beamed. "My name is Yunho, our queen. Jeong Yunho."

He rolled a cart with antiseptics and more medical stuff out to the side. "You're a doctor," I declared, touching my forehead to find it all cleaned and healed up.

He nodded. "Luckily you didn't need any stitches, just a couple of bandages. Mingi can help you replace them later."

My heart skipped a beat at the name. "Speaking of," I cleared my throat. "Where is he?"

He smiled widely at me. He seemed nice, definitely reminding me of a puppy. "Doing some...stuff."

"I know what he does," I said. "Of what you guys do, more or less."

"I'm sure you do," he chuckled. "Mingi is not a subtle person."

He crossed his arms as he walked closer to my side of the bed. "You're very interesting," he remarked with a smile. "I can see why he's drawn to you."

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"Well, for one, you didn't freak out when you saw me. The usual response to a random stranger in your bedroom is not nonchalance."

I squinted my eyes at him. I shouldn't conclude my thoughts about these people from looks alone; no one is who they seem to be here.

"You're observant," I commented.

"Yes. He can observe his way out of this room, as well."

Yunho laughed and I scoffed loudly when we both turned around and saw Mingi leaning on the door with his arms crossed.

"No thank you, Mangi?" Yunho approached Mingi with his arms wide open.

"Get out," Mingi ordered.

"Oh, come on now, I just wanted to check up on our queen," Yunho teased.

"Get out," Mingi repeated, raising his voice a little.

"But I want to know how you guys met--"

"Get," Mngi gritted his teeth. "Out."

"Okay, okay, goddamn," Yunho raised his hands out in response and beelined the hell out of the room, but not before waving at me jokingly and laughing on the way out.

The atmosphere was so awkward, it filled the massive room with uncertainty. I couldn't even look Mingi in the eye, for fear of him doing something to me. I was at the mercy of his presence, and in his property. He can do whatever he wants and none would be the wiser.

"I must say, Y/N," he began to speak, making me jump a bit in surprise. "Had I known that the next time I'd you see was being cornered by dead motherfuckers, I would have never let you go that night."

"Dead?" I squeaked.

Mingi smirked, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. "They will be soon."

He was at the very end of the room, but he was so unnerving. But by God, Mingi was the devil wrapped in an angel's grace. I didn't even recognize him at first.

He was wearing this tight, long-sleeved muscle fit shirt that emphasized just how bigger Mingi actually was. He had no glasses on, allowing me to see through his sharp and calculating eyes, and his dark hair was completely down, his bangs covered his entire forehead.

It was such a contrast to the very first time I saw him, and to be completely honest, I wasn't sure which one was worse - him wearing a casual outfit with the same dangerous, murderous aura was deceiving.

"You," I gulped. "You are the devil."

He titled his head in a menacing angle. "How so?"

"You know exactly what I mean, you took me here without even asking for my consent, Mingi!"

He stayed silent, staring at me with the same indifference he always had. It irritated me, more so now I knew who he really was.

"You lead the mob, you own the people," I whispered, hugging a pillow for comfort. "God, it all makes sense. The conniving, manipulative, boorish attitude, the fear you instill on everyone who knew you, and how you found me point blank."

"I didn't," Mingi denied. "Wooyoung found you. He called me. He is a brother of mine."

"You lied to me," I growled. "You lied about everything, you bastard-- don't come any closer."

Mingi began walking towards me, but paused in the middle of the room when I told him to stop. "I asked if you were in the mob," I continued. "You said no. But not only that, hid the fact that you had power. All you ever did was lie."

Mingi narrowed his eyes on me, rage slowly building into them, then it was gone. His self-control had always been worth of applause. "I never lied to you," he said in annoyance. "Everything I told you has been the damn truth from the start, Y/N."

"I own the gang, Y/N. I am the mafia, so no, I am not the mob," Mingi hissed. "I gave you every opportunity to wiggle your way out, I never gave you opportunities--"

"Opportunities that you tailored to suit whatever you wanted?!" I interjected, my voice raising significantly. "As if I had any choice? You assaulted me, Mingi, you took advantage of any weakness I had and exploited it for your gain!"

He smirked, his true colours overtaking the gentleness he put on. "But I do, I do care for you," he remarked. "Your perceptiveness kills me, though. It's not my fault we crossed paths again."

"You were going to give me to the enemy when we were hiding at the station," I accused harshly. "Crossing paths wasn't the issue, you had no problem selling me out!"

"I wasn't going to," Mingi shook his head.

"You wanted to touch me, you were going to push me off to them--"

"Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you mean?"

Mingi sighed, rubbing his temples with both of his hands. "Okay, fine, I might have lied to you with that one," he shrugged. "Joong is my best hunter, and Hwa is my right hand man."

Dread filled my body. Every opportunity that he gave me, even if he had pushed me to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, I would have never been in trouble. I would have ended up with Mingi, regardless.

"You snake," I seethed. "You manipulated me!"

"Remember," Mingi grinned sadistically. "I gave you the option to get away. Hongjoong would have let you go, he's always been soft, you see," he scoffed. "You chose to stay with me."

With that, tears fell from my eyes. Mingi's eyes softened at the sobs that wracked my body. He never lied, everything matched up, but his manipulations knew no bounds. Had I not been blinded by the temporary lust that made my body shake, I would have read between the lines.

"Seonghwa said he was going to kill you, how could I have known?" I hiccuped in between the sobs and tears.

I saw him reach out his hand to me, wanting to touch me, but hesitated when he saw how pitiful I looked. "Please don't cry, little dove," he whispered. "Will you calm down if I explain everything from the start?"

I looked up at him with my tear-stained eyes, nodding apprehensively. "Listen to me, my Y/N," he began. "I never lied to you, and I'm not lying when I say it hurts me to see you cry.

He walked towards the end of the bed and sat on it, far from me. "I was there for a deal with another mob, they screwed me over, so I stole their cash," he explained like it was no big deal. "The rope and the knife was theirs. It was for me."

I winced, the memory of Mingi tying me up making me cringe. "I'll spare you the details. I had to secure the place, why do you think the whole station was empty?"

I stared at him, and he stared back. That look again, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe, but this time, I was slipping further and further away from him.

"I am a very thorough person, my pretty girl," he smiled at my blush. "I could have sworn I blocked off every single entrance in there. So tell me, how the hell did you get in?"

My blush deepens, and I lower my head in embarrassment. "I-I saw there was a barricade," I stammered. "I, uhm, jumped over it. I was too tired to go the long way."

Mingi laughed, his deep voice reaching me in places I didn't know existed. "I see," he smirked.

How could I be so stupid? The deserted area should have been a massive sign that something was very wrong.

"The train that came after a little," he continued. "That was my getaway ride. Those two were probably pissed when I wasn't on it, especially Seonghwa."

I was mortified all of a sudden. I groaned and Mingi turned to look at me in amusement. Hongjoong and Seonghwa probably heard us going at it and doing vulgar things in a place where we weren't supposed to be doing it.

"I didn't lie when I said I owed them money," he said, his tone soft and gentle. It was like we were in that train station all over again. It was moments like these when my heart would question itself and its validity.

"Yeah, you just conveniently forgot to mention that it was technically your money too," I mumbled in resentment.

"I got a little carried away with you and forgot to give it to them," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know how, you drive me crazy."

"That doesn't give you the excuse to shackle me with you and manipulate me to do your bidding," I glared fiercely at him, my voice breaking with every emotion I had.

"I know, my love, I know," he sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and turning his whole body to face me.

I wasn't going to tell him that I never stopped thinking about him even after he left, and I wasn't going to tell him that he had won - even if I didn't want to, I felt something for him. But I was mad, and he doesn't deserve me.

There wasn't a day where I never blamed myself for feeling the way I did. I really was no different than a whore.

"I didn't think I'd see you again after that night," he admitted.

I was puzzled and confused. "What do you mean?" I frowned. "I was in fear of you, Mingi. Everyday I was paranoid that you changed your mind and would come knocking at my door to take me."

He chuckled lightly. "No, dollface. I didn't even know where you lived."

I stared at him apprehensively. "There was no tracking in the car?" The doubt was clear on my face. "Don't you mafia people do that? GPs everything that moved?"

"You would be correct, but no," he shook his head. "Not that one. That was my personal car. Not the mob boss' car, just regular Song Mingi. It's not connected to the business."

"You're lying," I objected, my chest tightening with how my heart beated.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Mingi sighed. "Call me whatever you want, a bastard, a son of a bitch, the devil incarnate. I may con my way and twist the truth, but Y/N, you should know by now that I am not a liar."

I swallowed the lump that blocked my throat from breathing in and out. "Not to you," Mingi confessed. "I care very deeply about you."

I couldn't help the shock that resonated onto my face and expression. "You really intended to give me that car?" I croaked.

He nodded without hesitation. "Yes, love. Yes, I did."

Something in my chest exploded, all the emotions and how I felt threatening to bubble up within me. "I hate you," I whispered.

Mingi heard it though. "What?" he frowned.

I was very angry at this point. "Is this part of your games again, Song Mingi?" I spat, tossing the blankets away from my body.

"My love, please calm down," he pleaded.

"No!" I screeched, standing up and inching away from him and the bed. "I don't need your stupid car after you took advantage of me, you slimy little snake."

I began pulling my hair out in frustration. "You could have let me go," I cried out. "But instead, you didn't and you toyed with me and my body!"

"Y/N, stop it," he warned, standing up, himself, and trying to reach for me, but all it did was make me back away more.

"You think the car would absolve everything?" I seethed, making my way to the door, intending to leave. "You could have approached me like a normal person, I might have given you a chance to woo me--"

I grabbed my arms and spun me around swiftly. "Mingi, let go--"

"You don't understand," Mingi hissed, his eyes had the mafia leader's anger in them, scaring me a little. "You don't get it all, Y/N."

"Mingi, please--"

"I had every intention of letting you go that night," he snarled. "When I said I never thought I'd see you again, I meant it. I was really letting you go."

"You asshole, I hate you!" I screamed in defiance.

Mingi scoffed. "Really?" he squinted his eyes at me and pulled me into him, embracing me. It effectively halted me, I wasn't expecting it.

"That car was yours," he whispered. "If you really detested me, you could have sold it and gotten rid of every trace of me."

"And have you kill me for doing so? I think not."

"I wouldn't have known. If it had GPS, I would have tracked it somewhere else."

I cursed under my breath. There was no fooling him. "I wish you sold it," he said. "You could have lived comfortably and I would have rested easy knowing you had enough money so you wouldn't work at night anymore."

I shivered when he tucked my hair behind my ears. "What if someone else got you first? What if they had worse intentions?"

"I want you," he continued when I didn't reply. "I wanted you for myself, to take you and do whatever I damn well pleased."

He tilted my chin gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I wanted to fuck you that night. Hard. Fast. Rough."

That caught me off guard. My face heated up in response.

"But I couldn't," he sighed before I could fully internalize what he said. "I didn't want this life for you. There was too much danger around me..."

He touched my forehead before leaning in and giving the bandaged wound a peck. "I should have come sooner before they did this to you."

I realized that passion was often mistaken for aggression. Mingi had too much of both. "You didn't send Wooyoung to spy on me?" I asked.

Mingi shook his head. "Wooyoung working with you was a sheer coincidence."

"It's not too late, you can still let me go," I tried to convince him. "You can let me go, once and for all."

He shook his head, his hold on me tightening. "No," he flatly said. Desperation swam in his eyes. "I let you go once, and that month was my worst. You're mine now, you hear me?"

The way he looked at me, I was the brightest star in his universe, and he finally had caught up to me. Then Mingi let me go, his eyes darkening into something foreboding; something more sinister.

"Strip."

It took a moment for me to understand what he said, and when I did, my eyes widened. "W-What?"

His eyes never left mine. "You heard me," he said. "Take your clothes off."

I took a step back from him and Mingi's jaw hardened when he saw me. "What are you doing?" he clenched his teeth, his voice taut.

"Mingi, please," I pleaded.

"Please what?" he growled. "Take your fucking clothes off, Y/N. I'm going to fuck you."

My chest fell up and down with how rough my breathing became. Mingi's scowl deepened when he saw me not moving an inch. He proceeded to take his shirt off and throw it randomly somewhere.

I gulped, taking in his physique. I knew he was toned, but seeing him up close made my brain go haywire with want. My brows shot up as I stared at the tattoo I didn't know he had on his left chest. It was an 'A' in a circle - an anarchy symbol, or rather, the Ateez emblem.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I whimpered.

His eyes narrowed in irritation. "No. Come here," he ordered. He had a demanding presence. The suffocating domination he had on me was daunting, but I wasn't going to give in to him.

I stood frozen in my spot for a few more seconds before I backed up again. Mingi slowly crept up to me, he looked like a predator more than ever. I backed up even faster until my back hit the wall. Panic surged through me when Mingi reached me.

He put his arms on either side of the wall, trapping me in. "Where are you going to go?" he sneered.

Before I could respond, Mingi ripped my nightgown off swiftly in the middle and lifted me easily in his arms, tossing me effortlessly on the bed. I screamed for dear life as he hovered over me.

"Song Mingi! What the fuck are you doing to her?!” I heard someone scream from outside the room.

"Fuck off!" Mingi roared angrily.

I trembled beneath him. He looked so much bigger than me when he was on top of me like this. I covered my bare breasts with my arms, but Mingi wasn't having it.

His eyes roamed hungrily over me. "No, babydoll," he smirked, grabbing my hands roughly and pinning them down on the bed. "You do not cover your tits around me, got it?"

I nodded as he devoured me with his eyes. I gasped when he leaned down and began sucking them. The stimulation was overwhelming - he would alternate between sucking and nipping my nipples gently.

"Mingi, please wait," I whimpered pathetically when he let go of one of my hands to fondle my tits.

I shook my head frantically and a choked cry was torn from my when his other hand wrapped around my neck. He lifted his head up to glare at me.

"Stay still," he barked.

I felt his tongue lick my lips, trying to push them apart. I whined in reluctance, trying to turn my head away, but Mingi quickly let my neck go to the back of my head and tugged my hair roughly on his hands. I cried out and struggled when he bit my bottom lip.

I inhaled a deep breath sharply when he pulled away to stare at me as I shuddered. I tensed when he started leaning down again slowly. He let go of my hair to press a thumb on my jaw, smirking darkly as he forced my mouth open.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Naked, shaking like a leaf, and all mine."

He ravaged my mouth once more, tugging on my hair a little bit. When I refused to cooperate, he murmured another warning against my mouth, this time with more threat. His tongue played with mine, and he groaned against me, and plunged his tongue deeper.

I felt my body trembling more, the wetness down there was becoming impossible to ignore at his touch, and I was aching for relief at this point.

Tears fell from my eyes at the roughness and tenderness he was making me feel, and I felt nothing but confusion. He wiped my tears away with his fingers.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

"C-Can we do this next time?" I begged.

His penetrating glare left me fumbling for words, and yet submissive to his touch, unsure if I should hate him for doing this, or liking it because it was him.

I knew one thing, I felt undeniably safe with him.

"Darling, please, I'm not going to hurt you," Mingi pleaded when I began thrashing around, trying to get away from his criminal hold, by pushing his body towards me. "You want this just much as I do--"

"Fuck you," I spat on his face. Shock filled his face as he wiped the spit absentmindedly.

His eyes widened before mania and fury fueled his features. "Don't worry, I plan to."

I was expecting something rough and unrestrained, but no, Mingi kissed me softly, lovingly, and I couldn't help but kiss him back with equal emotions. His hands went everywhere - my hair, neck, stomach - until it reached its goal down there.

Panic surged through me and I tried to struggle, but he held my legs down with his and trapped me with his chest.

"Mingi," I wailed.

"Shut up," he hissed, ignoring my pleas.

Something about the way he said it made me extremely wet. It was such a dark arousal, too. Mingi groaned loudly, his fingers felt my damp pussy, rubbing and pressing on it. I bit my lips to stop the moans that were wanting to spill out of me.

"Baby," Mingi rumbled, pulling my bottom lip out of my mouth. "Do not, and I mean, do not hold back on me, yeah? I want to hear your pretty sounds..."

It's not like he gave me a choice, I let out a breathy moan when he slipped a finger in, pushing in deeper until he was knuckles deep. I unconsciously squeezed around his finger and that made him even crazier.

"Oh sweetheart," he choked out. "You are incredibly tight, my angel."

He started stroking in and out, sliding with ease and finger fucked me faster and rougher than he did when he were at the train station. I moaned when he curled his fingers up and started rubbing that sweet spot.

"M-Mingi," I moaned erotically. "P-Please, slow down for m-me."

He kissed my neck, his lips nipping at the soft flesh there. "How?" he groaned against my skin. "Do you not hear that?"

The loud, squelching sound from my wet pussy as he drilled his finger relentlessly in me was driving me crazy. I gasped when his pace got faster, his palms were hitting my clit aggressively and I felt my orgasm slowly approaching me.

"No," Mingi growled. I whined in protest when he pulled out. He grabbed my jaws roughly. "You won't come, not until I say so," he snarled.

He stood and quickly got rid of his pants, his hands shaking with anticipation as removed the last piece of clothing he had - his boxers.

I stopped and watched him stroking his already hard cock, and he looked directly at me, his eyes hazed with lust and madness, his strokes going slower when I swallowed. He wasn't the biggest I've been with, but he was the thickest.

The length of it was veiny, the head of it red with the need to be inside me. I gulped when I realized that he was going to be inside me.

"Look how hard you make me, precious," his eyes were lethal and ferocious. "I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore."

Before I could say anything, a startled cry left my lips when he mounted me, roughly pushing my thighs apart to let himself in for the invasion he was going to do.

"Mingi--oh!" I whined when he shoved his fingers back in my pussy and stroked in and out like the madman he was. I struggled repeatedly, thrashing my legs and kicking him as hard as I possibly could.

"Resistance is useless, stop it!" Mingi shouted, making me stop in my acts and stare at him dumbfounded.

He tiredly buried his head on the crook of my neck. "I will give you anything and everything you want and more," he whispered in distress and desperation. "Just please give in to me, baby, please ."

The way he was begging broke something in me. "It doesn't work like that," I sighed.

"Then don't hate me," was all he said before he pushed into me in one thrust of his hips, almost tearing me into two.

I choked out a loud moan as my nails dug into his back. "M-Mingi," I gasped in broken moans.

He stayed still inside me for what seemed like a lifetime, shushing me and whispering the gentlest of words into my ears as he gave me little kisses here and there.

I knew he was corrupting me, but the feel of him inside me sent stars in my vision. It was the corruption, the alternation, between him being rough and then into being the most affectionate man.

Mingi withdrew all of a sudden, then thrust deeply, both of us letting out pleasure filled moans that echoed all over the room.

"I'm going to have you now, okay?" he said.

Without waiting for my reply, he thrust into me hard, over and over and over again. I felt my body being filled delightfully, the sensation of Mingi's cock seemingly swallowing all the words I intended to hurl at him.

His thrusts quickened, each thrust making me cry out loud and moaning louder and louder, not caring if anybody heard me from outside.

"Oh, fuck, my love," Mingi groaned, looking me directly in the eyes as he hovered over me. "You feel so fucking good."

He leaned down to kiss me roughly. "You're all mine, okay? You're fucking mine."

It was the moment when I knew that I couldn't hold back anymore. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, maybe I was his, after all. It was fucked up, but goddamn it, I wanted him.

"I'm all yours," I cried out. "Please, please fuck me--ngh!"

He groaned at my sudden surrender to him, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit as he fast as he was fucking into me. He locked his lips into mine in a demanding kiss.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," his deep voice bought out a different type of pleasure in me. "Wrap your legs around me, my love."

I obeyed him without questions, moaning his name out loud when he reached even deeper than before. He buried his face in my neck as he fucked faster, harder, and deeper.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"You want me to go harder, baby?"

"Yes! "Well, you better start begging."

“Please, Mingi, please…”

His cock filled my pussy harder until I felt the tip touch the end of my walls. In a moment of complete bliss, I grabbed his face and locked eyes with him. The surprise in his eyes made him buck his hips roughly. "Is my angel a slut, after all?" he smirked.

My body shuddered against him, and I felt a pleasure that intensified with the degrading name - slut.

"I love you," he whispered abruptly.

The sincerity in his eyes made my chest tighten and explode. "Since when?" I croaked out.

"I don't know," he smiled through the pleasure he felt. "I just do."

It was a feeling I knew all too well, as I felt the same.

A surge of bravery passed through me, maybe it was all from the payback and I want to get even. "Prove it," I smirked.

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me," he growled.

I screamed his name over and over again as he fucked his desires into me, until a strangled groan from him made his thrusts more desperate and sloppier.

His moans were getting higher and higher in pitch until he was nothing more than a whining, moaning mess. It turned me on to the highest degree.

"Come with me, love, please," he begged. "I need it..."

It was all I needed to hear, and there was no turning back. He broke an orgasm out of me, stripping me of any plans to defy him ever again.

His groans of pleasure matched his slowing thrusts and with a final plunge forward, hot cum filled began filling me. The little kisses he planted all over my face while whispering the dirtiest things with the most affectionate tone gave me the shivers.

He laid on top of me tiredly, and I was expecting him to stay like that because we were both tired and spent, but no. "Mingi?" I asked in confusion.

I was confused, I whined when he pulled out, going down on me to stare at my swollen pussy. It was so embarrassing, him being so close and personal down there.

"W-What are you doing?" I moaned again when I felt his fingers push back his cum back inside me.

"Can't let all of this go to waste, yes?" he smirked before diving in.

I almost had another orgasm at the sight. I felt Mingi eat me out hurriedly, holding my legs so I don't shut them close. The slurping sounds were so obscene.

Suddenly, he stopped and got back on top of me with the cockiest smirk on his face. He leaned down, forcefully opened my mouth, then opened his.

"Mmph!" I groaned lewdly, wide-eyed, but suddenly wet all over again.

I felt something wet, sticky, go in my mouth when Mingi kissed me - cum. He had just sucked his own cum from my pussy, and spit it out in my mouth.

"That's a good girl," he smirked, wiping his mouth with his hands. "Take it all in for me..."

He leans back at me again and I expectedly open my mouth for him again. His cum dribbled slowly from his mouth to mine and we both groaned at the erotic sight. "Swallow," he said.

I savoured his taste and swallowed, just like he wanted to. He bit his lips at my lewdness. "You did not just do that," I was bewildered.

"And what if I did?" Mingi smirked.

We lay next to each other, not saying a word, and just taking in what transpired between the two of us. I lay on Mingi's chest, tracing the tattoo on his chest.

"What's it for?" I asked absentmindedly.

"That, my love, is a brand that we wear to prove our loyalty," he replied patiently, rubbing my arms up and down. "Hongjoong drew it, himself."

"Does everyone have them?"

"Yes," he hummed. "Yunho has his on his chest too, Wooyoung and San both have theirs on their thighs. Hongjoong on his right wrist, Seonghwa on the left, Jongho on his arm, Yeosang on his back."

"I see," I replied lazily, laying back on his chest and just staying there. It wasn't awkward at all, I just felt relaxed with Mingi like this.

"You didn't reply to me earlier," Mingi's deep voice accused.

"With what?" I frowned, not even bothering to open my eyes.

"I told you I love you, I meant what I said," he sighed. "It wasn't a spur of the moment thing."

"But Mingi, this is only the second time we've seen each other, how can you love me?" I whispered, my tongue burning because I knew I was bullshitting myself with that.

"Don't be a hypocrite, precious," he chuckled. I huffed and he laughed. "You forget I'm the Don, I can see right through you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I rolled my eyes playfully, turning away from him.

He grabbed me gently and gave me a quick kiss. I blushed when he kissed my nose. "Admit it," he pressed.

"Admit what?"

"That you're slowly falling in love with me," he grinned. "Just like I am with you, my queen."

I cursed under my breath. "Why do you keep calling me that?" I frowned, trying to divert the topic.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. "You mean 'my queen'? So you get used to it since I want you by my side when I rule."

"Bold of you to assume I'll agree," I murmured.

"I mean, we already fucked each other's brains out, I'm just saying--"

"Mingi!"

We laughed out loud, and we laughed even harder when all we heard from outside the door were:

'Ha! Woo, you fucking owe me $50, I told you they'll make up!'

'Yeah, but the bet was if they make up before fucking, San!'

'I don't give a fuck. Hwa, you owe me too!'

'Me?! That was Yeosang!'

"Boss!"

I was startled when Mingi suddenly covered my whole naked body with the blanket protectively. Somebody just came through the door without knocking.

"Choi Jongho," Mingi seethed, shaking in anger. "It better be good or I swear I will shoot you on the spot."

"Ah," I heard our lovely driver fumble by the door. "Well, Hongjoong saw somebody steal the car in the garage."

Mingi sighed loudly. "Which one?"

"The white one."

"Well, did they break your legs first?"

"What?"

"I said," Mingi inhaled sharply. "Did they break your legs first?"

I stroked Mingi's thighs to calm him down. Though it turned me on to see him mad - sue me, he was hot - I liked Jongho and I don't want to see him dead yet.

"No," Jongho replied.

"So go and fucking chase it down, then!" Mingi howled. "Did you really have to go to me for that? Get the hell out of my room, out!"

"Hey, this is my house!" I heard Yunho shout from a distance.

"That I gave you!" Mingi screamed back.

I couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from my throat. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad trying to get along with everyone and see where this journey takes us. When Jongho shut the door, I peeked out from the blanket to find Mingi already staring at me.

"So," Mingi cleared his throat. "What now?"

I attempted to stifle a grin, but I failed. "Luckily for you, I like having power as well."

"Good," he beamed. I was in awe, where was the rugged and brusque man I met on the train station?

He bought out documents from the bedside table and began writing on it. "I just have to write your name in the official document so the enemy does not touch you," he explained when he saw me look at him curiously.

"They're eventually going to find out about you," he continued. "You have an English name, love?"

"Why?" I asked.

"For overseas," he shrugged. "Our operations extend out there, believe it or not."

I looked at him apprehensively. When Mingi saw me hesitate, he spoke up. "We'll take it one step at a time, okay?" he tenderly said. "I know this is a lot of change, but I promise you, nobody will hurt you. Hurting you will equate to hurting me as well. Any family I should know of?"

My heart swelled incredibly so. I was scared, terrified even, but I had a good feeling about him and everything that will come next.

"No," I smiled sadly. "I'm an orphan. And it's Rinoa."

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to meet my eyes. "You're very strong," he said with a small smile. "You have me and the boys now, no more worrying alone, okay? Put down your college information too, I'll pay for it from now on."

My eyes widened. "You don't have to," I whispered. "I've been managing on my own for years now."

"I know, love, but part of being mine is letting me take care of you. Let me take this burden off of your shoulders, okay?"

I wanted to tear up. I was confused, but felt very happy. "I hope you don't let me down," I whispered. " Or I'm going to beat you up," I grinned afterwards.

Mingi grinned back, kissing my hands tenderly. "I promise I'll give you everything and make you happy, and I'm sorry for all the stuff I put you through."

"No more lies?" I pointed out.

Mingi shook his head. "No more lies."

"So what's your English name too?"

Mingi chuckled. "I won't lie," he smirked. "But I never said I won't ask for some sort of payment."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the cheeks. His eyes widened in response. "That was fast," he laughed. "Look at you already wanting to know things about myself."

"Glad to know you're still the cocky man I met," I laughed. "Would've been weird if you just suddenly changed."

I looked at him expectantly with a cheeky smile. He laughed out loud before responding. "It's Stellan.”

"It suits you," I commented.

We stared at each other, just taking in the other person. Little by little, we'll get to each other, and it starts right here, and right now. "Come here," he began

He lifted me up to put me on his lap so I could straddle him and pulled me towards him until our lips danced in a game of truce.

I fell into his rhythm naturally as his arms wrapped around me and held me lovingly. I had found my lover with Mingi, and I had fallen in love with him.

#ateez #ateez smut #kpop smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez hard hours #song mingi #ateez one #ateez scenarios #mingi fluff #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez x y/n #atz #atiny

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springtyme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Sage! I was so happy when I saw you are gonna write for criminal minds! Can I request some soft smut with Spencer? Maybe his and reader’s first time together, they have to share a bed on a case or something like that. I love your writing so much and I would love to see how you’d write Spence ❤️ thank you for sharing your writing!!

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much for the sweet words and the lovely request dear anon! ♡ I had such a good time writing this, and I can't wait to write more for Spencer!

Spencer Reid x afab!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: Having to share a room with one of your fellow BAU agents is not an uncommon occurrence, and that agent being Spencer is not new either. The two of you have roomed together on multiple occasions before, but all previous instances have been different from this one. In all those prior cases, you both had separate beds, but not this time.

word count: 7.3k

warning/tags: Smut! (18+, mdni!) Mutual pining. Friends/colleagues to lovers. Idiots in love. Slightly awkward. A hint of angst, but mostly just fluff. Nightmares. Wet dreams. Inexperienced (but not virgin) Spencer. Vaginal fingering. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. I haven’t had time to proofread so sorry if there’s any mistakes.

In many ways the room is about as ordinary as any small town hotel room can be. However, one aspect instantly catches your attention upon opening the door - the room only has one bed…

As you step further into the room, you exchange a bewildered glance with Spencer, both unsure of how to proceed. It is a big bed, more than enough room for the both of you to be able to sleep comfortably next to each other, but despite how good of friends you and Spencer are, something about it feels weirdly intimate.

Having to room with one of your fellow BAU agents on cases is not uncommon, and sharing a room with Spencer isn’t new either. The two of you have roomed together on multiple occasions before, but previous instances were distinct from this one. In all those prior times, you both had separate beds.

“I, uhm… I can sleep on the floor,” Spencer suggests tentatively, breaking the silence that had filled the room. His voice is hesitant, almost as if he’s apprehensive about suggesting such a thing.

You look at him, noticing the slight blush on his cheeks as he avoids eye contact. It is clear that he doesn’t want to inconvenience you or make you feel uncomfortable by overstepping any boundaries.

But there is absolutely no way that you’re going to let Spencer sleep on the cold, hard floor, especially after a long day of chasing down an UnSub. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, Spence,” you protest, shaking your head gently. “There is more than enough room on the bed; we can put some pillows between us if that’ll make you more comfortable,” you suggest. You can see his apprehension, his discomfort at the idea of encroaching on your personal space.

In a way it’s very sweet, you know Spencer well, and you know how little he would enjoy lying on the floor, yet he is willing to give up his own comfort for you.

But at the same time you can’t help but feel a little pang of… Of what exactly you’re not sure. Disappointment maybe, or even longing? And a little irrational fear that maybe he actually finds sleeping next to you so uncomfortable that he would prefer the floor.

You have tried to suppress your feelings for Spencer for a long time, you have had a crush on him from the moment you first joined the BAU three years ago, but the more you got to know him, and the deeper your friendship deepend the deeper your feelings for him also grew.

You know that you’re being irrational, but you can’t help but wonder if Spencer actually feels uncomfortable by the idea of sharing a bed with you or if it’s something else entirely. As you continue to stare at him, hoping for a clue, Spencer nervously fidgets with the strap of his bag which he still hasn’t put down.

“Sure, pillows…” he finally speaks, his voice trailing off. You can tell he’s hesitant, it’s clear that the idea of sharing a bed with you is not something he had anticipated or prepared for.

You take a step closer to Spencer, trying to ease the tension that has settled between you. “Spencer, it’s going to be okay. We’ve slept in the same room many times before, remember? This is just a little different, but I’ll promise to stay on my side of the bed,” you assure him, offering a small smile.

Spencer glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he takes a deep breath andnodding slowly as he finally sets his bag down and starts to remove his jacket. His movements are deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he’s trying to distract himself from the tension in the room. Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself stealing glances at him. You watch his every movement, wondering if there’s more to his unease than just sharing a bed. As he hangs his jacket neatly on the back of a chair, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers tremble ever so slightly.

“Do you want the bathroom first?” you ask, trying to break the silence and bring some normalcy back into the situation. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes reflecting gratitude for the distraction.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” he replies, his voice slightly shaky. He walks past you towards the bathroom, his steps quick and purposeful.

While he’s in the bathroom, you take a moment to collect your thoughts, as you start to take out your pajamas and toiletries from your bag before going over to the bed, placing a few pillows in a row in the middle of the mattress. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on with Spencer. You’ve always had a strong connection with him, but lately, there have been moments when you’ve sensed a shift in his behavior towards you. It’s hard to put into words, but there’s a certain longing and vulnerability that seems to surface whenever you’re together.

As you ponder these thoughts, Spencer emerges from the bathroom. He’s changed into his pajamas, checkered flannel bottoms and a long sleeved cotton t-shirt, his hair damp from his shower. You can’t help but notice how adorable he looks. There is something so soft looking over him like this, almost domestic and your heart skips a beat.

“Your turn,” he says softly, gesturing towards the bathroom. You nod and make your way inside, trying to steady your own racing heart.

The warm water from the shower helps to calm your nerves, but your mind is still filled with questions. What if there’s a chance that Spencer feels the same way? What if this shared bed situation could bring you closer together?

You finish your shower and step out, wrapping a towel around yourself. As you reach for your pajamas, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay calm and not let your emotions get the best of you, yes you have developed feelings for Spencer but first and foremost he is your friend and, and you can’t start assuming things. He is allowed to find sharing a bed with you awkward.

When you return to the room, Spencer is already tucked into one side of the bed, the one closest to the door, his back turned towards you, and you can’t help but notice that he is far closer to the edge of the mattress than he needs to be. The only light in the room now coming from the bedside lamp on the side of the bed that has been assigned to you by Spencer.

You quietly slip into your side, letting the heavy comforter cover your body as you lay down on your back, looking over at Spencer’s back for a short moment before looking back up into the ceiling.

The proximity between you is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, as you lie there, so close to each other yet so far away. You take a deep breath before you break the silence once again. “Ready to turn off the light?”

Spencer shifts slightly, his voice barely above a whisper as he responds, “Yeah, sure.” You reach over and switch off your lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The only source of light now is the faint glow of moonlight coming shining through the blinds.

As you lay there, your mind starts to wander, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Spencer over the years. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the times he’s been there for you when you needed someone the most. Each memory fills you with a mixture of warmth and longing.

“Good night, Spence,” you utter softly into the darkness,

“Night,” he replies, his voice barely audible in the quiet space and the room falls silent once again.

You let out the softest of sighs as you close your eyes, finally letting yourself feel how tired you really are, slowly letting yourself try to surrender to sleep.

· · ·

It’s still dark in the room as you wake up, only an hour or two have passed since you fell asleep, and for just about half a second you get to wonder what had woken you so abruptly before the reason becomes clear to you.

It is Spencer who woke you. In the dimly lit room, his agitated body twists and contorts restlessly next to you. You turn around so you’re facing him, propping yourself up on your elbow so you’re slightly hovering over him, the darkness of the room shadowing his face, but as your eyes get used to the dark you notice the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his eyebrows knitted and his breathing erratic and shallow.

Unintelligible, fearful murmurs escape his lips, carrying traces of an impending terror. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort as you try to gently pull him out of his nightmare.

“Spencer,” you say softly. “Spencer, wake up.”

His eyes fly open, wide with fear, his gaze darting around for a second or two, before they lock with yours which seems to calm him down a little. -

“I’m sorry, I woke you,” he mutters, his rapid breathing slowly coming under control.

“Spence, it’s okay, I get them too,” you remind him. “We all do.”

“I-I know… this one was just so real…” Spencer takes a moment, his brows knitted as if he’s contemplating whether to share the details or simply let the disturbing dream fade away. “You were there,” he finally says, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I couldn’t get to you in time, I-I kept running but I didn’t get any closer a-and…” but then he stops, like he can’t get himself to continue.

You feel how your heart clenches at his words, he had a nightmare about you…

“Well, I’m right here, and I’m okay,” you reassure him, offering a soft smile before you place a gentle hand on his shoulder as if to emphasize your statement, hoping to offer some comfort.

He places his own hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You think you can go back to sleep?” you ask him as you finally remove your hand from his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says and the two of you both lay back down on the mattress, but a short silence falls over the room before Spencer speaks again. “Would it be okay if we removed the pillows?”

“Of course,” you whisper back, removing the pillows. There is still a decent gap between you, but the cushioned wall is now gone. You yearn to close the gap, wanting to reach out for him, to comfort him with an embrace, but you just stay on your side of the bed. This can be enough, you can live with just being his friend, despite how your heart yearns for more.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, now laying on his back instead of facing away from you like last time you said goodnight.

“Goodnight,” you whisper back, “and, Spence?” you add.

“Yeah?”

“Remember you can always talk to me if you need it, I know how it feels.”

A beat of silence. “Yeah, I know, and thank you, it’s really nice to know that.”

You let out a soft sigh as you finally close your eyes again. “Of course, that is what friends are for.”

“Yeah, friends…” he mumbles, so low you barely hear it.

But you do hear it, and you ponder over it a little as you again begin to slowly drift off to sleep, and as you find yourself in the liminal space between wakefulness and slumber. Each breath you take seems to synchronize with Spencer’s soft breathing. In the darkness, your thoughts become even more encompassed by the draw you feel towards him, the yearning to hold him, to be held by him.

Suddenly, you feel a shift in the bed, and your heart skips a beat. Did Spencer just move closer to you? You open your eyes to find him curled up, facing your direction. His features softened, no longer affected by his nightmare, but now relaxed in sleep. It takes all of your willpower not to reach out and touch his tousled curls, to trace the contours of his face.

But you don’t. You don’t want to risk jeopardizing the friendship you share. As much as you yearn for more, you’re determined not to overstep any boundaries.

With a heavy sigh, you turn away from Spencer, facing the wall instead. Your emotions are in disarray, swirling within you like a tempestuous storm. The closeness you currently have, even if it’s just a hair’s breadth away, feels agonizingly bittersweet.

As you drift closer to sleep, nestled in the comfort of the bed, you feel a sense of contentment and tranquility. Despite the uncertainty and longing, there is solace in the silent presence of Spencer beside you. And for now, that is enough.

· · ·

You are stirred from sleep once again later in the night. This time, it is a gradual, more peaceful transition into consciousness. A sense of warmth and snugness engulfing you, making you fill with a sense of complete safety and comfort, your eyes still closed and your mind still groggy from sleep.

As you slowly emerge from your drowsy state, it takes a moment for you to identify the source of your comfort. As time passes, and you’re pulled enough out of your sleepy daze you start to become aware of the gentle movements against your body, and you start to perceive the muffled sounds emanating from beside you, and confusion is washing over you for a short moment before you remember where you are. Remembering that you’re in a hotel room in a small town in Nebraska, a hotel room which you’re sharing with Spencer, a hotel room that only has one bed…

Your eyes flutter open as Spencer’s arms squeeze you a little tighter, your back is pressed up against his chest and your legs are tangled under the warm covers. His steady breath gently fan the back of your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, grazing just over your pulse point.

And it is now, as you are being pressed tight up against him, that you feel it. How he gently is rocking against you. How the outline of his hard cock is pressing against the curve of your ass. You let out a faint gasp, as a warm shiver runs through you right down to your now throbbing cunt.

Your heart skips a beat, overwhelmed by the intensity of this unexpected intimacy from Spencer. You are not completely sure what to do, what Spencer would prefer you to do in this situation. There is no way you’re gonna be able to wiggle out of his embrace without risking waking him. You should probably wake him, right?

You can’t believe that this is really happening, that you really are in this position with Spencer right now. But you know that you can’t read too much into it, that people just get wet dreams sometimes, that this is just a physical reaction. He didn’t even want to share the bed with you in the first place, and you were the one who insisted on it. As much as you dread having to face him in this position, you really should wake him.

You know Spencer, you know that he will feel embarrassed when you wake him, but it will be nowhere near as bad as the betrayal he will feel if he finds out that you didn’t stop this.

Taking a deep breath, you start to gently nudge Spencer awake, careful not to startle him. “Spencer,” you say gently, slightly wiggling in his embrace as you try to face him. “Spencer, wake up.”

As he stirs, his eyes flutter open, and he looks at you with a mixture of confusion and sleepiness, before a look of absolute horror overtakes his face, his eyes filling with panic. His embrace immediately loosens, and he quickly pulls away from you. The distance between your bodies, making you feel a sudden pang of emptiness as he bolts off the bed.

“I- I’m so sorry,” he stutters, his voice frantic. “I don't know what came over me. This isn’t... I didn’t mean to…” His words trail off, and he looks utterly mortified.

“Spence, it’s okay,” you try to reassure him, watching as he begins to pace back and forth in the small room, and start to gather his belongings, his eyes darting around the room anxiously, as if searching for an escape. “Spencer?” you try again, hoping to bring him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts. You get out of the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floorboards.

But Spencer doesn’t seem to even hear you, he just grabs his bag and starts stuffing his belongings inside, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. “I-I’ll leave,” he begins, his voice strained with guilt and embarrassment.

“Spencer, please,” you say softly, stepping around the bed to get to him. “You don’t have to leave.”

He is halfway through the bathroom door by now, his bag dropping from his shoulder. Tears are pooling in his eyes, his expression tortured. “I can’t stay,” he says, his voice quivering. “I made you uncomfortable...”

“Spence,” you try again, now standing only a few steps from him.

“No… I made you uncomfortable, and I-I’m so sorry, I just- I mean- or no, I didn’t mean…” he begins to ramble before giving up and burying his face in his hands.

Your heart aches at his words, at the pain in his eyes. You never wanted this to happen, never wanted to make him feel like this. “Spence, you could never make me uncomfortable” you say, trying to keep your voice as steady and comforting as you can, your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

“You don’t have to say that,” he begins, but you cut him off before he can start spiraling even more than he already is.

“I do, Spence, cause it’s true. You haven’t made me uncomfortable, okay?” you need him to believe you, you are colleagues and you’ll have to see each other everyday, but also, and more importantly, he is your friend and he means so much to you, you just can’t lose him. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I promise. Please, look at me.”

You take a step closer to Spencer, reaching out for him, gently placing your hand on his trembling shoulder. Sensing the depth of his distress, you speak softly, attempting to soothe him further, and he finally looks at you, his damp eyes filled with shame and embarrassment.

“I... I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammers, his voice shaky. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or take advantage of you. I don’t even know why I…”

You interrupt him gently, placing a hand on his cheek to bring his attention back to you. “Spencer, listen to me. It’s alright.”

He searches your eyes, seeking reassurance. A moment passes before he finally speaks. “Are you sure it’s alright?” vulnerability shining through his words.

“Yes, Spence… It’s alright,” you feel sad, because as selfish as it is, you do wish your words weren’t true, wish that it did mean something, but you have to ignore that for now. It’s not fair to be selfish right now, what you need is to comfort Spencer and reassure him that it’s okay. You have to ignore how good it felt to feel him against your body, having him grinding against you, having his lean arms around you…

“What happened... It was just a physical reaction and I don’t hold it against you. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen, and it’s not like you can control your dreams,” you offer him a small smile, one that you hope will convince him that you mean what you’re saying, but it feels bittersweet as you say your next words. “I know it didn’t mean anything.”

Spencer’s shoulders visibly slump as he absorbs your words. He still looks deeply conflicted, but your reassurance seems to have calmed him down slightly. “That’s not true…” he murmurs, he sounds unsure, almost shy as he says it, yet there is a determination flickering in his hazel brown eyes.

That’s not true..? You wonder if he is going to disagree with your statement about not being able to control dreams and launch into an extensive explanation of the technicalities of lucid dreaming, but what he says instead makes your heart flutter and fills you with a sense of hope. “It did mean something,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. The room feels charged with tension, the air thick with uncertainty. You take a step closer to him, your hand still resting gently on his cheek. “Spencer, what do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft and filled with curiosity. And a realization courses through your body, he didn’t just have a wet dream, he had a wet dream about you…

He takes a deep breath, his eyes locked with yours. “You mean so much to me. My dreams, my nightmares, my…” he trails off, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks, my wet dreams, his blush is telling. “My waking thoughts, they always end up being about you.”

You feel your heart swell, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within you. Spencer’s words hang in the air, leaving you momentarily breathless. Unable to contain your own feelings any longer. You close the last distance between you, so close that you now can feel the heat radiating from his body, your hand sliding from his cheek to the back of his neck. Your touch is gentle, craving a connection, desperate to convey your own emotions. “Spencer,” you whisper, your voice filled with a tenderness you can no longer hide. “It’s the same for me.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise, his breath hitching in his throat. It takes a moment for his words to find their way back to him. “You...you feel the same way?” he says, almost breathlessly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception. “You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?”

You shake your head, your voice filled with sincerity. “No. I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it.”

Relief floods his features, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His pretty, pretty lips which look so soft and so damn kissable… “Oh…” is all he manages to say, his voice filled with soft gentle wonder.

You can see how the weight is slowly lifting off of his shoulders, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and happiness. He reaches out to take your free hand in his. He moves his other hand to your waist, at first not fully committing to the touch, his fingers gently ghosting over your pajamas, but with a soft smile of encouragement from you he gently places his palm against you, and his touch sends a wave of warmth through your body.

The room seems to shrink, the world outside becoming distant and irrelevant. At this moment, it’s like the two of you are the only two people left on this earth. Spencer’s lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something more, but the words remain trapped in his throat. Instead, he leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and then, his lips brush against yours in the softest, most tentative of kisses.

It’s a moment of pure vulnerability, and raw emotion. The kiss is a little hesitant at first yet filled with longing. The warmth of his lips against yours creates an electric current that surges through your entire body, igniting a fire within you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if he never wants to let you go. The possessiveness in his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself losing all sense of restraint.

In this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. All that matters is the connection between you and Spencer, the warmth that courses through your veins with every touch and every kiss. You feel how heat is pooling in your stomach.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the wavy strands, making him gently moan into the kiss as your other hand finds its way to his face, caressing his cheeks as if trying to convey all the feelings you have bottled up inside.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and desperate, as if both of you have been longing for this moment for far too long. It’s a dance of tongues and teeth, a melding of souls, and you can’t help but lose yourself in the sensations. The taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the way he pulls you closer as if he wants to merge your bodies into one.

Desire courses through you, igniting a fire within that consumes every rational thought. You press yourself flush against him, unable to stop your body from slowly grinding against him as the need for more contact intensifies, making Spencer moan into the kiss, which only makes your own desire for him grow even stronger. Every touch, every movement sends a jolt of anticipation through your body, the friction between you building a deliciously tantalizing tension.

The need for more becomes unbearable, but your lungs start to burn and you finally break the heated kiss to get a breath of air. His lips hovering mere inches from yours, his breath warm and ragged. The room is filled with thick tension as you lock eyes, the intensity between you crackling with electricity. You take a moment to steady your own breath before asking him, a little shyly, what you want to know the most in this moment. “Wanna tell me about your dream?”

Your words hang in the air, a challenge and an invitation, as you search his gaze for approval. He looks into your eyes, his own filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability. “How…” He takes a deep, steadying breath, before continuing. “How about I show you instead?”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, a rush of excitement and anticipation flooding through you. Without hesitation, you nod your head, your voice barely above a whisper as you respond, “I’d like that.”

You reach for his hand, guiding him towards the bed. As you lay down, he hovers above you, his eyes filled with a mixture of passion, desire, and a hint of vulnerability. The vulnerability only makes you want him more, to show him that the connection you both share is real, that it’s more than just a passing moment of lust.

You place a hand at the back of his neck, drawing him down towards you, and his lips meet yours in another fervent kiss. The weight of his body pressing against you sends a thrill through your veins, a delicious ache building between your thighs. You bring your legs up, wrapping them around him, making him let out a low grunt.

His mouth leaves your lips to instead trail down along your jawline, down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. His movements start out slightly clumsy, but he is very quick to adapt and adjust, finding a rhythm that suits both of you. You tilt your head back, giving him better access, surrendering yourself to the pleasure that ripples through your body with each touch of his lips. His hands move up the sides of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Fuck, Spence,” you whine. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently, urging him on. His lips find their way to your collarbone, and he nips at the sensitive flesh, causing a gasp to escape your lips. The sensation sends a jolt straight to your core, and you can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter with desire for him.

His fingers dip beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming along the curve of your waist, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You arch your back, silently begging for more, and he obliges, his hands slipping further up until they find your breasts, his thumbs rubbing softly over your hardened nipples. A low moan escapes your mouth, and his lips find yours once again, swallowing the sound and pouring his own desire into the kiss before pulling away to speak. “We… we weren’t wearing this much clothes… In my dream.”

As the words tumble from his lips, you feel a surge of anticipation flood through you. The desire to match his dream, to fulfill his fantasies, takes hold of you. With a breathless chuckle, followed by an encouraging smile you nod and begin to undo the buttons of your pajama shirt, slowly revealing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he watches the fabric slip off your shoulders and expose your breasts fully to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence.

Spencer’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches out, gently cupping your breasts, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His eyes never leave yours as he experiments with different pressures and strokes, learning the map of your body through touch. Each caress sets you ablaze, igniting a fire within you that only he can satisfy.

“I...I never imagined this could be real,” Spencer admits, his voice laced with awe and reverence. “To have you like this, to be able to touch you, it’s beyond anything I ever dreamed of.”

His words melt into the air, caressing your senses as you guide his hands down your body, your breath hitching with each movement. The heat between your legs intensifies, the ache growing unbearable as his fingers brush against your heated, still covered core.

“Then let’s get rid of the rest of our clothes,” you whisper, your voice filled with anticipation and desire. With shaking hands, you help Spencer undress, removing his shirt and pants after he has shed you of your own pants.

The air is thick with tension, as the only things that are now covering the two of you being your own panties and Spencer’s gray boxer briefs. You swallow, the sight of him making a hot shiver run through your body, right down to your throbbing cunt, making you squeeze your thighs together. The imposing size of the bulge in his underwear only adds to the anticipation that swirls inside you. The dark spot of precum on the gray cotton, making you drool and without a second thought, you slide your hand down to where his arousal strains against the garment, palming him gently through the fabric, a low groan escapes his lips, the sound music to your ears.

“Shouldn’t we get these off too?” Your voice takes on a sultry tone as you gently squeeze him through his underwear.

Another groan, this one a little more whiny, falls from his lips, as he nods eagerly.

You let out a gasp as he follows your suggestion, and slides off this last item of clothing. His hard cock springs free, hitting his stomach. He is big, thick and throbbing with a bead of precum at the tip that you would love to lick off of him. You have never seen a more mouthwatering cock in your life, and if it wasn’t because you were so damn desperate to have him inside of you, you would get on your knees and choke on him in this instant. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really pretty cock, Spence?”

“N-no…”

“Well, you do,” you assure him. Spencer’s cheeks flush by your bold compliment as you reach out for him. “Now come here, pretty boy,” you say, pulling him down on you again and he doesn’t hesitate, capturing your lips once again, but not before telling you how beautiful you are.

“Can’t concentrate sometimes, you’re so beautiful, it’s distracting,” he murmurs between kisses. “And you’re always so sweet to me, to everyone, and so fucking sexy,” he whispers against your lips. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the electricity between you.

You smile into the kiss, feeling an overwhelming surge of affection for Spencer. His words touch a deep, insecure part of your heart that you rarely expose to anyone. It’s moments like these when you realize just how lucky you are to have him in your life, and how deeply you want him to play an even bigger role than he already does.

Breaking away from the kiss, you gaze into Spencer’s expressive eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust and affection. “I could say all that about you too, you know” you confess, sincerity lacing your voice as you bring your hand up to push a stray curl away from his face. “You can be very distracting too, Dr. Reid,” you whisper, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you gently rut your clothed pussy up against his erection as you address him by his title.

A desperate grunt escapes his lips as he feels the friction between your bodies. He leans his forehead against yours, his voice husky with anticipation. “God, you have no idea how badly I want you,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. You can feel his body trembling against yours, the need radiating off of him in waves.

“Me too, Spence,” you pant, you are now grinding against him in a slow, sloppy rhythm, “need to have you inside of me so bad.” you confess. “Do you have a condom?”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly at your question, a mix of desire and concern flickering across his face. “No… I didn’t think... I-I mean, it’s not something I… I didn’t expect...this,” Spencer stammers, his cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t think we would…”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you say, your voice filled with understanding, gently cupping his face in your hands, you take a little pause before continuing, “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean... so if you want…” you trail off, wanting him to be the one to make the decision

Spencer takes a moment to process your words, his expression shifting from surprise to relief. He exhales a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I-I’ve never done this without a condom…” he confesses, blushing even more, “not that I’ve done this a whole lot…” he says, his voice filled with vulnerability.

You have been unsure about how experienced Spencer is but his honesty and vulnerability only make you appreciate him more. You stroke his cheek gently, comforting him with your touch. You are just about to tell him that it is okay, and that you don’t have to do anything he is not ready for and that you can stop if he isn’t feeling like doing this anymore, but Spencer speaks before you have a chance to say any of this.

“But I want to do it all with you,” he says, his voice filled with determination and longing. “I trust you.”

His words send a surge of warmth through your body, a reassurance that he is fully committed to this moment and to exploring the depths of your connection. You lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, conveying both your love and desire for him.

Now that you finally know how it feels to kiss him after having pondered over it for so long you just can’t stop, his lips too intoxicating, too addictive. “I trust you too, Spence,”you murmur against his lips, your voice laden with affection and honesty as you spread your legs, inviting him to take the next step.

Spencer’s eyes flicker with a mix of desire and admiration as he brings his hands down to skim over the thin, and by now soaked, fabric of your panties, you arch your back, silently begging for more.

A hungry expression dances over his features before he slides the fabric aside, his touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. His fingers trail through the wetness already pooling between your legs, spreading out your arousal as he circles your clit. A shudder runs through you, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure courses through your veins. He continues to tease you, his touch feather-light yet impossibly intense.

“You’re so wet,” he says intrigued, and you find his fascination utterly endearing.

“Well, it’s all for you, Spence,” you moan in response as Spencer’s fingers glide over your slick folds, his touch becoming more purposeful and assertive. The anticipation builds inside you, a mixture of desire and nervous excitement. You watch Spencer’s face for any signs of hesitation or uncertainty, but all you find is a hunger that matches your own as he slides a finger inside of you. Your breath hitches as he curls his finger, hitting a spot deep inside that sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. You grip the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as Spencer adds another finger, stretching you and filling you up.

The room fills with your moans and gasps, the sound of your pleasure mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working you. You can feel your walls tightening around him, a signal that you’re close to the edge. Sensing your impending release, Spencer leans down, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss as he continues to thrust his fingers inside you. The combination of his touch and his kiss sends you spiraling over the edge, waves of ecstasy washing over you.

You cling to Spencer, your body trembling with pleasure as he guides you through your orgasm, his fingers never faltering in their movements. As your climax subsides, he withdraws his fingers slowly, his gaze locked with yours. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the intensity of the moment washes over you.

“That was...amazing,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe. You smile, feeling a surge of pride and contentment wash over you.

“You’re amazing,” you reply, your voice filled with love.

“I want to be inside you so badly,” Spencer confesses, his voice filled with desire and urgency. His eyes bore into yours, pleading for your permission. You can see the vulnerability and longing in his gaze, making your heart swell with affection for him.

With a nod, you give him your consent, silently urging him to take the next step. and he gets up on his knees. His erection stands tall, glistening with anticipation. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he slowly positions himself between your legs, his hands trembling slightly as he supports his weight above you, his gaze never leaving yours.

As he slowly enters you, a rush of pleasure courses through your body. Inch by inch, he fills you, stretching you in the most delicious way. A low moan escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming yet incredibly satisfying. Spencer’s eyes never leave yours, his expression transitioning from concentration to blissful surrender.

Once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, allowing you both to savor the feeling of being intimately connected. You run your hands over his back, sending shivers down his spine as you guide him to start moving. With each thrust, waves of pleasure crash through you, igniting a fire that burns brightly between you.

“Spencer,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice filled with need, “you feel amazing.”

He whimpers in response, his rhythm picking up as both your bodies move in perfect synchronization. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, a raw display of the passion simmering between you.

The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the bed creaking in rhythm with your passionate movements. Spencer’s thrusts become deeper and more assertive, his movements guided by pure instinct and the desire to please you. He holds nothing back, giving himself to you completely.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and disbelief. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

You dig your nails into his back, urging him on. “Don’t hold back, Spencer,” you gasp, your voice laced with urgency. “Give it to me, all of it.”

Your hands roam his body, tracing the contours of his lean muscles, urging him on with every touch. His lips find yours in a desperate kiss, each one filled with a mixture of love, desire, and a hunger for more. The intensity of your connection drives you both toward the edge, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.

His thrusts become harder, deeper, and you cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. Pleasure builds within you, radiating outwards in waves, threatening to consume you entirely.

“I’m close, Spence,” you manage to utter, your voice strained. “I’m so close.”

He increases his pace, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. You can feel the tension coil within him, the way he desperately clings onto the edge, on the verge of falling. And then, as if in perfect unison, the dam breaks. The pleasure crashes over you both, engulfing you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. You can’t help but let out a series of desperate whines and moans as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up as he pumps you full of him, coating your walls with his cum. You cling to each other, riding out the waves of your orgasms, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his cock, your bodies trembling with the intensity of it all.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you further into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, basking in the afterglow of your shared intimacy. As your breaths finally steady, he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes, a tender smile playing on his lips.

“That was... beyond words,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “I’ve never felt this connected to someone before.”

You stroke his cheek lovingly, your own smile mirroring his. “Me neither, Spence.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all his adoration and gratitude into it.

And as you both lie tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth and intimacy you have just experienced, a feeling of contentment washes over you. It is a feeling you have longed for, a feeling of being truly seen and accepted by another person, and you know that for a long time that longing has been for Spencer and only Spencer.

“I am so grateful for you, Spence,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity.

Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze locking with yours. “Thank you for being patient with me. Before meeting you I honestly never thought I could feel so comfortable and safe with anyone.”

Tears well up in your eyes. The depth of emotion in his words touches you deeply. You lean in to capture his lips in a tender kiss, a kiss filled with love and gratitude.

Spencer shifts, gently pulling out of you and sliding to your side. He scoops you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. The rise and fall of his breath against your skin is soothing, creating a sense of comfort and security on a level that you have never felt before.

You curl up against him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I’m so happy there only was one bed,” you whisper, the words spilling from your heart without hesitation. Spencer presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Me too,” he reply, his voice filled with emotion.

Thank you for reading! If you feel like it, please leave a comment or reblog to let me know what you thought ♡

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buckymorelikefuckme · 3 months ago

Text

fri(end)s

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 3.8k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo

bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist

Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.

When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.

You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.

So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.

The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.

It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?

***

After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.

Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.

With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.

You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.

He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.

“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”

You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.

The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.

Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.

And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.

While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.

Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.

***

“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.

The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.

You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”

Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.

“That’s my shirt,” he states.

You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.

“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.

Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.

“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”

You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”

“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”

“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.

To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.

***

Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.

On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.

But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.

Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.

Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.

It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.

His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.

Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.

You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.

It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.

“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.

You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.

The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.

He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.

It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.

He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.

Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.

“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.

He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.

“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”

“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.

It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.

“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.

You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.

Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.

“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.

You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.

“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.

You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.

With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.

“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.

Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.

Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.

It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.

This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #pls take this away from me before i scream

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 11 months ago

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02 / 627 words

You challenge Gaz to a pushup competition. And lose. What did you think would happen?

He keeps at it, though, maybe as a flex. Half-envious and half-curious, you lay on your stomach with your arms folded under your chin and watch him go. Gaz pushes himself up and down at the same even pace. You could always saboratge him, shove him over, but the satisfaction wouldn't last. Especially with his self-righteous ass taking it as permission to be a martyr about it. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Can you do those one-handed?" you ask him.

He glances at you. "Doesn't do much good for my triceps, but yeah, I can handle it."

"So what? Triceps, pff. The point of one-handed pushups is looking cool."

"If you can pull it off."

"Can you?"

"Obviously."

Gaz pushes up a little harder, repositioning one hand so it's centered under him when he comes down. The other hand he puts behind his back. To your disappointment, he continues with ease. He holds his body in perfect alignment despite the sheen of sweat glazing his skin.

"Wow, fine." You make yourself sound as unimpressed as possible. "Of course you can do it with your dominant arm. What about the other one?"

Gaz switches sides without missing a rep, making it look just as easy. You frown.

"That what you meant?" he asks.

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay, that was smooth," you admit.

"It's all in the form. Keep everything straight and taut. Can't do it properly if your body's all loose and jerking around."

"Uh-huh," you say absently. "What about weighted pushups? Like what if there were something on your back?"

"I've done it before. How come you want to know?"

"Just wondering what if I, like, sat on your back while you did it. Do you think you'd be strong enough?"

"Ah, is that it?" Gaz grins. He pauses his reps with his arm taught but slightly bent, bracing him in a plank. "Try it."

"Really?"

"I can take it."

"I'm heavy."

"Mmm, sure you are. Come on."

Gaz lowers himself to the ground. You hesitate, but he's not letting you back out. He's calling your bluff and he knows it.

"Chickening out?"

You huff and push yourself to your knees. "You wish."

You feel like a ton of clumsy bricks, lowering yourself down onto his back. You really try not to think about how your hand lands right above his shoulder blade or how his tank top leaves so much of his muscled back and shoulders exposed or how your ass slides against the firm curve of his lower back. You pray you're not too heavy. But Gaz either doesn't notice or doesn't mind. As soon as you're situated, draped over him sort of on your back and sort of on your side, he resumes his reps. Slower. Like he's accommodating you as you adjust.

You keep as still as you can. Gaz is as focused and professional as ever. But this is a bit more intimate than you anticipated. Damn him for forcing you to contend with the consequences of your actions. It's impossible not to notice and feel his back muscles at work. His strength is impressive. You're dismayed at the very idea that you thought you could beat Gaz in a test of arm strength. Hubris, that's what it was.

"Is this... helping? The weight?"

"Helping my training? Yeah, it seems to be working. You're good resistance."

"Oh. Thanks. Glad to be of service."

"Yeah? You feel alright on top of me?"

Your cheeks go a little pink at his phrasing. "Yeah. Best seat in the house."

"Is it?" Gaz wears a cheeky smirk, though you can't see it. "Keep it there, then. I like a little extra motivation."

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / masterlist tag

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caterkinnie · 4 days ago

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I saw that your askbox was open. If i may, can you write a continuation of this ( Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...) with the rest of the dormleaders. It's so cute kasi eh. Also, can you include Rook, Sebek, and Jade in the place of Idia, Azul and Vil. Thx

Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...

❥ ⌗ Characters: Rook Hunt, Sebek Zigvolt, Jade Leech.

❥ ⌗ Tags: not really proofread. rook being silly. sebek being sebek. jade being cute<3

❥ ⌗ a/n: hiiiiii i started this blog when i was 15 and now im 18. crazy right???? happy new year!!!! sorry if its a bit awkward. its been a LONG time since I wrote for these characters.... tysm for your request!

Oh, it's Rook's fault this happened and he knows it.

You two were just having fun, he invited you to the forest just to walk around and relax. It was the sort of activity he'd love doing with you.

The two of you were completely alone, Rook loved to show you around his favorite hidden places, places that you imagine no one has seen before other than him….

And he was happy to do so, it was something you've done millions of times with him.

imagined he was hiding something, as his smile was a little bit too wide, his eyes were a little bit too mischievous. You knew when he was planning to mess up with you.

You were not expecting him to ask if you had a crush on anyone though.

“Eh?! What… Yes you do know him but…. ahh!! Yes, he's blond, why do you ask????”

He was giggling as he asked question after question…

What's his eye color? In what club is he? Is he from Pomefiore? How good is he as a hunter.

“Ah~ Mon cheri, don't get mad at me. I fear I know how you must be talking about… although, I imagine the feelings are reciprocated… Oh, such a beautiful expression you have!”

He has way too much fun with your quirk.

In this case, it wasn't directly to Sebek…

Lilia Vanrouge was extremely curious about you, as Sebek had never shown any interest in friendships with anyone. Let alone spending the amount of time he does with you, and even hesitating when he has to choose between aiding Malleus and having fun with you!

No one else had that effect on him, and you deep down knew it but… as a human, would he ever like you back? Would he feel ashamed to love you? Those questions plagued your mind, and stopped you from pursuing the kind hearted fae…

“What? If I like him…? ah… well… he's really sweet and- and…. Ah!!! Maybe a tiny bit but don't tell him!”

“AH?!?!?!”

And then you heard a loud scream of confusion from outside the door.

One you unfortunately recognized instantly.

Lilia chuckled as the door was bursted open, and Sebek was in front of you, his face was red… he wanted to say something… but something weird happened… He was at a loss for words!

You tried to explain yourself but…

“FOOLISH HUMAN! It's- it's bad manners to speak of someone behind their back! If….. If you wished to… If you wished to talk about those feelings, you must have told me directly, IF NOT THEN HOW COULD I PROPERLY COURT YOU?”

You were trying to impress Jade, but maybe you should have gone with a letter or some kind of book about fungi…

You've never cooked octopus before, and the cooking book wasn't helping at all either!

It seemed easy in theory… but you've tried it a million times and it still is not something you'd want to give to him!

He has really exquisite tastes! And if you mess it up maybe you'll mess this chance with him…

Or maybe you're overthinking.

Right as you were tried to finish the dish (which you were unsatisfied with the presentation and overall taste) you heard a chuckle from behind you.

“My, my… Are my eyes seeing this correctly? Who are you making this for?”

“...Of course it's for you.” No, dang it!

“And why, may I ask? what's the occasion?” His voice had a confused pitch, but his smirk gave it away. He was extremely amused by your attempts.

“....I though… maybe I could gift you this and then ask you out on a date….” No!! Why did you say that????

“...Fuhuhu… You're overcomplicating it… Maybe next time we can try to do it together? I can give you a few tips as well…. since it seems you've been trying for a few days, that is…”

He knew all of this time?!

Wait, is that a date?!

Reblogs are appreciated!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #rook hunt #jade leech #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #rook hunt x reader #jade leech x reader

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uc1wa · 1 year ago

Text

18+ minors dni

OCT. 17 — KINKTOBER ‘23

KNIFE & GUN PLAY WITH JASON TODD

ktober m.list

tags: fem reader, blood, gun play isn't gorey, penetrative sex, cum play for a second, possessive jason, reader calls jason daddy once, (if i missed any pls message me!)

jason hesitated only slightly when you had mentioned having rougher sex. took a beat to read your face one night after dinner when the topic was somehow brought up, a tilt of his head and arch of his brow following.

it wasn’t like the two of you were purely vanilla when it came to your bedroom tendencies. you started by asking jason to choke you, your hand placing overtop of his to press harder—clearly nervous of his strength and your limits. then, jason tested out slapping… and with the way your pussy clenched around him, it was safe to say there was a green light in front of that too.

but… when you were playing with the switchblade that the man kept in his pocket when you had run the blade over your fingers gently, and the words, "i wouldn’t be upset if you used this in bed," fell from your tongue, jason could only smirk to himself.

"want me to put a lil’ tattoo on you princess?" he asks, holding his hand out in asking for the blade, to which you hand to him. you nod with a grin, lifting up the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. the soft flesh of your upper thigh being exposed, your fingers running over the skin. "right here," you say, the skin right under the hem of your panties being traced with your fingertip.

you look from the skin between your hip and thigh to jason who’s sat in front of you, his eyes darkening as he looks at your skin. the hand that’s not holding the blade grabs the soft flesh, squeezing it and giving it a little tap.

"'jason’s'… how does that sound?" green eyes meet yours, his demeanor changing to one of those that says he's ready to pounce on you at any given second. "mhm, mark me up. wouldn’t be your first time," you nod with a laugh, pulling up your top to show one of your boobs, a dark purple love mark sucked into the skin from two days prior.

jason tilts his head in thought, questioning if he should hold out on telling you his desire that followed yours. the desire that has just reached the front of his mind, a thought that only a questionable vigilante who's killed hundreds would have. his eyes trailed over your body as he does so, to which you scrunch your eyebrows. "yes?" he holds a momentary finger up at you as he silently walks away, making his way into your bedroom without a word.

a few minutes go by, your attention is turned to the television until the man walks back into the room. nothing has changed about him, besides the fact that he’s holding a hand behind his back. one end of jason’s lips is tugged upwards despite the nervousness to reveal the idea he was keeping away from you.

he takes a seat, sweatshirt bunching up around his hips as he brings his arm forward. now your eyes widen—excited and nervous yourself. the hesitation is understandable, as any other sane person would most likely make a run for it.

the shiny, clean metal was one you’d only seen when jason had come home from being the red hood. when he had come off of patrol and you were in the rarity of being awake at the late hour of the night, watching him strip himself of his vigilante clothing and tools. the tools he had hidden in the back of your shared closet, several locks attached as a safety measure.

the mechanism that your boyfriend had used hundreds of times—either to take a life or to severely hurt another. now, holding it in front of you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"why not both?" he asks, turning the gun to show you that the safety is on, continuing to open the slots where bullets would be found and showing that it was clear of any possibilities of harm.

while jason was around guns and every possibility of weaponry on a daily basis, you weren’t. but, you weren’t opposed to the idea, and the way your heart rate quickened and your underwear started to get wet was proof of that.

with wide eyes you nod and stand up to take jason’s hand, leading you to the room that you were normal to experimenting in.

you both were quick to strip yourselves of clothes, your mind occupied with ways that you could make use of the gun, finally landing on the one thing that you know jason would like.

on a carpet in front of your bed, you fall to your knees on the ground below you, hands sitting pretty and expectantly on your thighs. wide eyes watch your boyfriend smirk at the way you’re ready for him, finding his space in front of you, standing tall and proud with the gun still in his hand.

if jason hadn’t cleaned his guns religiously, you wouldn’t dare to put the one in his hand anywhere near you—god knows what would lie on the surface of it. but, jason took care of them as if they were his prized possession, the same way he took care of you.

so, he places the gun in front of him, right where his cock would usually fall if you were to suck him off. instead of him, though, your tongue slips between your lips to find the tip of the gun, letting it lay flat against the underside of the cool metal while his cock stands proudly behind it.

his eyes stay pointed downwards, watching the way you wrap your lips around the cold metal. while his face doesn't read anything but focus, his internals are going off the charts. his cock hard as a rock while his heart beats faster and faster in anticipation. anticipation of watching you suck his gun, and his cock, and fucking you with pretty metal touching your throat and scarlet running down your thigh from his idea of a tattoo.

while your soft lips left a salivated mess on the tip of jason's pistol, you decided to bring a hand to his member. thumb running over the tip, pleased to feel his pre and following suit in running down his length, beginning to slowly jerk him off. a soft smile tugging your lips when you watch his breath hitch in his throat from the contact.

like a flick of a light switch, jason's throwing the weapon to your bed with a shake of his head. helping you stand up with a hand holding your throat, forcing a choked whine to leave you because of the strength of your boyfriend. your eyes go wide when he leans down to face you, grip still holding the soft skin that coats your neck.

"i'm gonna give it all to you tonight, sweetheart. don't worry about that pretty head of yours, okay?" he questions, throwing you on the bed and finally releasing you, allowing you space and time to catch your breath while jason takes his time crawling between your legs that you oh-so gladly spread for him.

it should be a crime to be as wet as you are due to the minimal contact your boyfriends had with you. hardly laying more than a hand on you and dripping onto the bed without care, eyes meeting his dark ones and watching as he grabs the gun once more.

only this time, his confidence is at a high. all hints of hesitation leaving his body and the action of rubbing the opening of the gun between your folds is done selfishly. of course, he knows it feels good with the symphony of whines and moans you sing for him, but he can't help but to indulge in the sight alone. dark eyes watching the way your cunt flutters, begging to be penetrated rather than teased with the metal.

jason's hungry for everything you give to him.

"such a slut," he begins, locking eyes with you once more, "all wet from a fuckin' gun?" you babble something that sounds like a confirmation, and it makes jason scoff, halting his movements just where you need him; tip of his gun pressed and paused at your entrance. "beg for it."

your cheeks flush, turn red at the demand he makes. but, it's dumb to deny it. dumb to act like you won't fuck the killing machine that was just pressed to the puffy lips of your mouth.

"fuck me with it, please," you say lightly, knowing it's not enough, but wanting to push jason further. after all, he said he'd give it all to you tonight, so you'll make him prove it.

his voice grows deeper, louder and he nudges your clit that begging for attention with the metal, allowing weight to fall on it which makes you squirm under his harsh gaze. "fuckin' pathetic... fuck you with what?"

your eyes roll back, hips rolling forward in attempt to move the dead weight that is the gun and gain some stimulation. but, it's to no avail. your eyes grow wide, swollen lips closing before opening once more. "please daddy, wan' you to fuck me with your gun. gonna feel so good, please please please," you press, and jason eats it entirely. angry red cock spilling with precum, milky streak falling against one of his veins.

"mhm, princess," he says, moving the gun downwards and pressing it to your entrance once more, slowly, eyeing the way your hole swallows the metal that pushes inwards until it can't anymore. the sweet moan is something he appreciates, though he knows the size is only a fraction of his cock that you're used to. but, the coolness of it does enough to feel foreign and good.

with a cocky smirk on his lips, he begins fucking you with the weapon. pulling it in and out of you slowly, but increasing in speed with each thrust he delivers; a big hand holding it with his index and middle finger holding the trigger subconsciously. aiming straight towards your cervix, which he'll touch soon enough.

and he fucks you well. fucks you with an arm that has pretty scars and newer cuts littering the skin. veins starting on the top of his hand and trailing to his forearm pumping blood that's evident in the way his cock is begging for attention. but he wants you to cum once on the gun. make a mess out of it in a way that's unlike anything he's ever experienced.

and once you're arching your back against blankets, moaning his name out in a near yell, and attempting to move a hand between your legs to get him to stop fucking you, stimulation too much, he finally gets what he wants.

jason's perverted thoughts cloud his head when he's slow to pull the gun out of you. looking at the metal that's covered in your milky essence. slow enough that there's a string of wetness that connects you to the weapon, and he could cum from that alone.

but the real finale is when he realizes that your cum is filling the barrel of the gun, filling the once-empty space with yourself. he brings it to your lower tummy, spilling the mess all over you in a manner that's filled with pure filth. proceeding to throw the gun to the side, acknowledging the fact that it's served its purpose for tonight. the pain of his hard-on is finally coming to his attention, and he needs to stuff his pussy.

"how'd that feel, gem?" he questions, moving against covers and watching your half-lidded eyes. both hands pull your thighs up so he can push them back, tip teasing your swollen entrance. "g-good," you whimper, and jason would be lying if he paid any attention to your response. your convulsing pussy is the only thing that has his attention right now, the way you're attempting to suck him whole.

and without warning, he's pushing his entire length between your legs, filling you whole and halting his movements once he's completely surrounded by your soft walls. groaning at the sensation of you clenching around him, but resisting moving his hips the way he wants to.

one hand remains gripping the fat of your thigh while the other grabs the switchblade lying on the mattress beside your pretty figure. flicking it open with his fingers, somehow making it look like an art while he's in the process of doing so. your attention follows it, almost forgetting that you're being stuffed full of jason's cock without movement. unwillingly cockwarming the man.

"remind me, baby. where'd you want my name?" jason's eyes move to meet yours, and without fail, a whimper slips past your lips and he feels the tightness that's close to making him hammer himself into you. but he has the patience and self-control that you don't.

his palm meets yours halfway, letting go of your thigh and letting his hand fall overtop of yours, smoothing over the top of your thigh. in the space that's dangerously next to where he's laid out inside of you, and it makes him more hungry for you if that was possible.

he's transferring his blade to the hand that's closer to the skin where you want it, tracing only enough for your skin to become a shade lighter under the pressure. once again looking up at you, he takes note of the way your lips fall open while anticipation grows in your eyes. it makes him smile wildly, a reminder that you want this. that you're the one who asked for it.

"'s gonna hurt," you whimper, and jason shakes his head, setting the blade on your thigh while his big hand takes your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks. "you can handle it, baby. c'mon, where'd my strong girl go?" a smile pulls your lips upwards. "it'll feel just like that tattoo you wanted, it's like a trial before the real thing." he leans towards you, holding back a groan from the way he pushes himself deeper inside your cunt to do so, giving you a sloppy and messy open-mouthed kiss.

then he's pulling back, blade in hand once more, and beginning to get to work. the whimpers are a symphony to his ears as he presses the sharp tip against your soft skin, cutting his name so pretty in your flesh. his eyes watch the way the deep red liquid peeks through the cracks, beginning to drip down the side of your skin. the hand that's not cutting his name into you is squeezing and rubbing the skin of your stomach soothingly.

his hips moving in small circles, enough to give the both of you something, but not enough to make him mess up his painting.

"so fucking pretty, honey," jason says as soon as he's finished, throwing the bloodied blade on the floor to clean up later. but his eyes are unable to see his finished work of art, and jason isn't one to waste.

pulling out of you with a moan, he leans down to the expanse of your thigh, licking over the blood with his tongue flat. he doesn't take note of how you sit up, your eyes widening at the stinging but warm sensation. you watch the way scarlet red coats his tongue, finding its way to the corners of his lips while he sits back up on his knees.

jason's cock stands tall as he uses his thumb to collect the blood from his lips, dark eyes watching yours as he sucks on his own digit. longer than needed, but he can see you like it; whether it be your fluttering cunt or your eyebrows that furrow. he laughs, knowing he's completed what had to be done in order for you to fully be his property.

because now jason's pretty slut girlfriend can't show her cunt to any other man without reading jason's name right beside it.

🏷️: @harleycao, @idyllcy, @hails227, @aviixol, @hopeannalea, @hearttjason, @roysjason, @blursotongz, @zaxlarza, @wartofart, @loviie-stuff, @nmw-am, @nightjarwings

#welcome to my kinktober where i make one fic like 200 words and the next 3000 words #loveeee consistency #anyways this was so fun to write i love writing crazy themes #sigh cuz i want it #also realized i wanna start making text it’s actual size for fics! so will be doing that #drabbles still in tiny tho #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood #kinktober

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animasolaoriginal · 6 months ago

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I n f a t u a t e d ♦️THREE

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO THREE FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

He finds out the girl he picked up on a whim is the perfect candidate. So innocent, so submissive already, with just the right amount of Daddy issues. But she still has a lot to learn, and he's determined to teach her everything.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Sex toys. Fingering. Cunnilingus. Orgasm denial. Oral sex/deepthroating. Anal play. Creampies. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 4.9k

TWO 🟥 THREE 🟥 FOUR

He's surprised how quickly she adjusted to her new surroundings, to the things he's asked of her, forced on her. Maybe she's still feeling the after-effects of the drug he's given her last night, maybe she doesn't understand the situation just yet, maybe she's simply the perfect candidate for this. To stay here, for him. She's barely putting up any fight, only seems embarrassed most of the time, but the way she's sucked him off has shown him how eager she really is.

Even though she still has a long way to go. Too fucking innocent.

She's that little ball of hair and limbs on his lap, curled up, melting into him, small hands that have been around his cock now gripping his shirt. Feet tucked under his thigh, deep little breaths against his chest. It's been only a few hours, and she's already so submissive. He's almost disappointed he didn't get to break her first. But maybe her defiance is yet to come. He's certainly looking forward to it.

His phone chimes on the coffee table, and he throws a quick look at the display. The courier is here. Good. Without a word, he stands, picking her up effortlessly. She hums against him, leans into him as he carries her into the bedroom. When he puts her down on the bed, leaning over her for a moment, he meets her hooded eyes. So pliant, so innocent. He can't help but lean down further to press his lips to hers.

She melts into the mattress as he pushes her deeper, putting his weight on her, elbows on either side of her shoulders as he gives himself a few minutes of a bit more much-needed pleasure before he has to leave her. She's hesitant at first, but as soon as he slips his tongue between her lips, her own jumps into action. A groan escapes him as she kisses him back with more and more confidence. His fingers dig into her hair, their tongues wrestling, his cock stirs back to life against the fabric of his pants.

He leans back abruptly, breathing a little harder, the girl beneath him panting as well, her lips parted and red, glistening. Her eyes on him. “I gotta take care of something,” he tells her quietly. She only blinks. “Be a good girl and wait here for me, okay?” The way her pupils dilate when he calls her that makes his stomach tense up. He's noticed it before, how she reacts to his praise. It's an intoxicating sight.

He crawls off her and stands, looking down at her small frame. White lace was a good choice, accents her innocence perfectly. Those little embroidered flowers barely cover anything, but it's still enough fabric to keep it interesting. She's beautiful, the way she lies in front of him, chest rising and falling, that flutter to her stomach, the little twitch to her thighs as she presses them together and tries to hide her sex. He raises an eyebrow at that.

“While I'm gone,” he says, a smirk growing on his lips, “I have a little task for you.”

He steps towards the nightstand and pulls open the first drawer, randomly picks some of its contents and throws them onto the bed next to her. Her eyes widen when she follows the gesture and stares at the colorful toys. He picks up one of the smaller dildos and braces himself on one arm as he leans over her.

“I want you to be very wet when I come back,” he whispers, gently taking her hand and placing the object onto her small palm. “Understood?”

She still looks at him in shock, and he can already tell she's never used any of the things he's presented her with. Another challenge, another thing he's willing to change. He leans back and looks down at her, head cocked to the side. His eyes narrow slightly when she doesn't reply.

“Understood?” he repeats a little harsher.

A tiny gasp escapes her and she sits up, nodding frantically. “Yes, sir.”

His hand finds her cheek, a gentle caress, thumb running over her bottom lip. He watches her intently. “Good girl.” The shiver that runs through her amuses him immensely. Patting her cheek, he then turns away and leaves her to her own devices.

Returning to his phone, he sends a message to the courier, and minutes later there's a chime on the door. His men are good, and fast, and when he looks through the things in the box that was brought up to his place, he nods in contentment. The things she left in the club, a jacket, a phone, case stuffed with some money, some keys and her ID. He's surprised that she's actually 19, when she looks quite a bit younger. Not that it really matters. His eyes scan her name, memorizing it. Fits her.

There's a folder tucked into the side, all the information they could gather on her, and the more he reads, the wider his smile gets. She is perfect, a random pick, an instinct, and it has still been the best choice. Alone in the big city. He checks her phone, swipes through pictures and messages. There's only one new message, someone congratulating her. Not many social contacts, no Mom or Dad or other relatives. Does explain a few things though. The girl definitely lacked the presence of a proper authority figure in her life, or at least someone who could give her the attention she needs, someone to hug her even, guide her through life, tell her what's right or wrong. No wonder she's so overwhelmed with his advances, yet strangely compliant at the same time.

Daddy issues.

What a perfect little thing that found her way into his clutches. He turns the phone off and puts it back into the box, then locks it securely in the safe in his office, before he focuses on the bag that came with the delivery. Clothes he ordered for her, more underwear mostly, some dresses, shoes. He doesn't plan to take her out much, not yet, so she won't need too many clothes anyway. They're just an illusion of safety for now, something she feels more comfortable in, before he'll take that away as well.

Grabbing the bag, he returns to the bedroom – and freezes. The bed is empty, except for the array of sex toys on the blanket. Untouched, unmoved. And the girl is gone. Something hot rises inside him, his hand tightens around the straps of the bag. He checks the bathroom, also empty. When he opens the door to his walk-in closet, he hears a soft little gasp, before his eyes move down to the far back where she's curled up on her side, wide eyes staring at him from under her lashes.

Like a beaten animal – and he hasn't even done anything to her yet. Not really, anyway.

He puts the bag down on a shelf and approaches her slowly. The dildo he gave her lies in front of her, just as untouched as the rest. She curls up even more, a little ball of hair and limbs, white lace in stark contrast to the dark rug she's lying on. He crouches down, hands resting on his knees as he watches her.

“What are you doing here, baby?” he asks quietly. “Are you hiding from me?”

She sniffles, shakes her head. “No,” she mumbles, wide eyes following his every move. Why is she so skittish all of a sudden? The drugs probably wore off. Poor thing.

He doesn't care. His hand reaches out and grabs her elbow, pulls her closer. A little yelp escapes her. He sits down on the floor and pulls her between his legs, she struggles against him but his fingers close around her arm, squeezing harder than he intended. She winces, a deep shudder rushing through her small body when he drapes her legs over his thigh, making her lean against him. One arm securely around her, holding her with enough authority that she stops squirming, he raises the other hand and grabs her chin, makes her look at him.

“What happened?” he asks, looking at her, scanning her face, fear and shock evident on it.

She averts her eyes, chewing on her lip. He squeezes her chin.

“Look at me.”

She does, with a soft little whine, blinking rapidly, eyes glistening as she meets his gaze. “M'sorry...” she mumbles.

“For what?” His voice is stern, and she frowns at his tone.

“For... for not... doing... what you told me...” she whispers, the first tear falling from her lashes. “I... I couldn't...”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Her cheeks are bright red by now, her eyes moving over his face in frantic little flutters. “Felt... wrong...”

He watches her, letting go of her chin to move his hand straight between her legs. She flinches and yelps when his fingertips brush against her panties. The fabric is a little damp, warm against his touch. He doesn't hesitate and slips a finger under the hem, testing the waters. She turns her head away, whining softly as her blush spreads over her shoulders. “Do you need my help?” he whispers.

She only stiffens in his hold as his finger glides along her slit. Warm, wetter than he expected. He doesn't know why she was so stressed about this task or thinking she failed him. She's perfectly responsive. His lips brush against her temple.

“Tell me you need me to help you...” he breathes against her.

Her thighs twitch. “I... I need you to... to help me...” she mumbles out, burying her face in his chest in a little gesture of embarrassment. So fucking cute.

“Good girl,” he hums and kisses her forehead while his finger slips between her folds, gathers her slick and promptly dips into her entrance.

She flinches, but keeps quiet, leaning into him as he nudges her legs apart with his thumb. His finger slips in and out of her, her tight walls gripping him in a way that makes his cock throb. Her wetness gathers around him, quiet squelching sounds filling his ear. She lets out little noises of discomfort, barely-there whines, almost-sobs but in a way that doesn't seem too distressed. She's slowly adjusting, relaxing in his hold, her breaths deeper.

His thumb finds her clit, and when he pushes gently on it, she wails a little louder, her legs trembling, her small hands gripping the front of his shirt as she melts into him more. He keeps drawing tight circles around her nub, his digit pushing deep, in and out, faster, her wetness runs over his hand. The moment she becomes really still, a sharp inhale cutting through the air, he stops, pulls away, and she looks up with her lips parted, almost pouty, eyebrows furrowed, disappointed.

He smirks at her and brings his wet finger to her lips. She doesn't fight it when he slips it into her mouth, rubs it over her tongue and along her gums, pushes deeper. She freezes again, stares at him, but then she closes her lips around his finger and sucks, her tongue flicking around it, licking up her own juices. He pulls it out with a wet pop and leans down, capturing her mouth for a quick, deep kiss, sucking on her tongue, tasting her. She melts into him, clinging to him, but as soon as she starts to relax again, he lets go, leans back, leans around her to grab the dildo still lying behind her on the floor.

“Here,” he says and puts the small pink object into her hand. “If you want to finish it, do it with this.”

She stares at him, eyes wide, fingers curling around the toy, her face flushed. And then she shakes her head, catching him off guard.

“No?” he whispers, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Her breaths are loud through her nose as she holds his gaze, not saying anything.

He narrows his eyes. His first instinct is to grab the toy and shove it deep into her tight pussy himself, but he refrains, pushes her off his lap and stands, then grabs her wrist and drags her out of the closet. She stumbles after him and yelps when he throws her onto the bed.

Scrambling to her knees, her lips parted and trembling, she stares at him with her eyes wide in shock. He ignores her for now and walks to the bedside table, rummaging through the drawer until he retrieves a little teardrop shaped object, bright pink as well, smooth silicone with a little antenna.

A high-pitched squeal escapes her as he grabs her and pushes her onto her stomach, one large hand on her lower back, holding her down as she starts to squirm. “Stay still or this'll be more uncomfortable than it should be,” he tells her through gritted teeth. She stiffens, her breaths loud and frantic as she white-knuckles the sheets.

He moves the toy between her ass cheeks, pleased to see the butt plug is still in place. Nudging it slightly, he makes her wince. Pushing her legs apart a bit more with his knee, he slides her underwear aside, grabs her thigh to steady her and lets the small vibrator glide between her slick folds, and it's only a little push of his thumb before it slips into her, swallowed up by the tense muscles of her pussy. She lets out a strained whine. He wipes his palm over her mound gently, then tugs on the fat string until he finds the thicker bit at the end. The button clicks audibly when he presses it, and she gasps when the first vibrations shake her body. It's low, but still definitely overwhelming for her.

He puts her thong back in place and grabs her elbow, dragging her off the bed. Her legs are trembling, the low hum between her twitching thighs barely audible, but he hears it, sees her reaction to it, feels his blood pumping into his cock, the throbbing almost painful, and he wonders why he's taking his time with her. He could have had her last night, this morning, any time he wanted, fucked her hard and mercilessly, any hole he desired, and yet he waits, eases her into it, with a patience (or restraint) that surprises himself.

Sighing loudly, he grabs her hand and leads her out of the bedroom, she follows him on shaking limbs, too stunned to protest now. They reach the open kitchen, and he grabs her waist and sets her on the island, hears the faint clanging noise when the base of her plug hits the marble top. Spreading her legs, he steps between them, braces one arm on either side of her, stares down at her darkly.

Her eyes are wide, glistening, shock and uncertainty on her face, but there's also a deep blush and a tightness to her lips as she fights the sensations pulsing through her small body. Her hands fidget between her legs, a nervous little gesture. He rips them away, tells her to sit on them. She does with a bit of hesitation as she watches him with bated breath. He leans in, lets his breath fan over her cheek, then kisses the corner of her mouth, and there's a jerk in her neck as she turns her head, trying to meet his lips.

He pulls away before that, exhaling through his nose. His hands move over her legs, thumbs brushing along her inner thighs until he pushes them against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her wetness seeps past it already, staining the white satin bit, and he licks his lips at the sight. His restraint is slipping, he can't help it, he can smell her arousal, and it's driving him insane.

In one swift motion he grabs her hip, pulls her to the edge and leans down to press his mouth to her inner thigh, quickly kissing up the soft skin to where the little pink antenna pokes out of her. His free hand tugs at it, then he drags her panties aside and closes his lips around her folds. She yelps softly, body jerking against him. His fingers dig into her flesh, hold her in place as he laps up along her slit, gathers her sweet wetness on his tongue, drinks her up like a man parched.

She whimpers when he sucks on her clit, teeth grazing her soft, sensitive skin while he fumbles with the toy and presses the button a few more times, feeling the vibrations increasing, her hips jerking, thighs pressing against his head. Her noises are getting louder, helpless whines and mewls as she squirms on the counter, hands still squished under her legs while he continues to eat her out with a passion that he hasn't felt in ages.

Holding her with one hand, he tries to counteract her uncontrollable twitches, while his other hand rubs over her thigh before his index finger pokes at her entrance, following the toy inside. It's thrumming hard against her tense muscles, and he pushes it around a little with his finger before he finds the right spot, and that's when she really wails, body spasming against him, the heels of her feet thudding loudly into the cabinet as she tries to ground herself somehow.

He holds the toy pressed to her g-spot, still sucking on her clit, eyes moving up to watch her lose it in front of him. She's arching her back, head tilted upwards, chest pushed out, arms trembling before she can't keep her composure any longer and pulls her hands from under her legs and grabs his hair, two sets of small fingers with an iron grip that surprises him. Either to push him away or hold him right there, he isn't sure. Whatever the case, he lets her, gives her that one moment of control.

Her walls tighten around the toy and his finger, rhythmic clenching, her orgasm is so close, she's right on the edge, and it's that moment that he hooks his finger around the toy and pulls it out, leaning back, slipping from her suddenly limp fingers, and leaves her throbbing and panting, watches her deflate as her orgasm slips away again. A whine escapes her, and she falls backwards onto the counter, body convulsing without release, hiding her flushed face behind her shaking hands.

He straightens himself, licks his lips and then his finger, puts the vibrating toy on the counter before he turns it off. She's sobbing now, overwhelmed and left hanging. Poor thing. But it's not over yet.

Hooking his hands under her arms, he hoists her off the counter and pushes her down on her knees in front of him. She's too surprised to react, slowly lowers her hands and looks up at him, tears streaming down her red cheeks. Without a word or command, he unbuckles his belt and opens his pants, then snaps his fingers at her. Despite her trembling state, she follows the order instantly, automatically, that inborn desire to please stirring within her, when her small hands move up to push his pants and underwear down enough to free his erection.

The initial touch is almost enough to push him to the edge and over, but he braces himself, puts his hands on his hips and watches her as she closes her fingers around his length, slowly stroking up and down like he's shown her. Her eyes stay on him, watching him closely, and he tilts his head, pressing his lips into a thin line, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. He sees her swallowing, and barely a second later, her lips brush against his hot skin, the contact enough to coax a little groan out of him.

He watches her closely as she moves her lips up and down his shaft, tongue licking along his bulging veins, circling his tip, flicking over his slit, before she opens her mouth and takes him deeper. She's a little hesitant, careful, one hand still on his girth, the other braced against his thigh as she slowly bobs her head, lips closed around his tip, cheeks hollowed, the little suction really tempting his self-control. He wants her to find her own pace, get better on her own, learn to pleasure him properly, but he also really wants to fuck her throat and make her choke on his cock. The struggle is real.

His hands move to her head, a gentle little caress, fingers sliding through her hair, slowly nudging her closer, she shifts on her knees, the hand on his thigh pulling her into him. Her eyes are closed now, and he can see tears forming under her lashes as she keeps moving her head back and forth, the hand that's tight around his girth keeping her from taking him deeper. He feels her warm mouth, that little tongue flicking around his tip, hot and wet, sucking softly, almost meditatively, and he can't help it, he bucks his hips slightly against her, his cockhead poking into her cheek when she turns her head with a little muffled whine.

One of his hands moves down to grab her chin, holding her in place, head slightly tilted, as he repeats the same motion, pushing into her mouth, watching her cheek bulge. He hasn't noticed it before, but she's a natural at keeping her teeth out of the way, her jaw opened wide enough to allow him to slip in and out fairly easily. Her eyelids flutter open, and she meets his gaze, her eyes glistening, pupils dilated more than he has expected. She's enjoying this, huh?

He smirks at her, moves her head a little and tilts her chin up before he pumps his hips a little harder against her, more of his cock slipping into her small mouth. She stiffens, both hands now gripping the fabric of his pants, bracing, a sliver of panic in her eyes. He watches her closely, the grip on her chin hard as he concentrates, holds back, fights the urge to just fuck her cute little face. His breaths are quick and loud through his nose.

She holds still, doesn't fight it, and he uses that submission to move faster and eventually slips deeper, feeling his tip prodding the back of her throat. She gags almost immediately, a sudden reflex, her body convulsing against him, fingers digging into his legs, and he lets her pull back with a deep cough, saliva dripping from her lips. But he only lets her relax for so long, before he pushes his cock back into her mouth, deeper, to that spot once more, and she gags again, spit filling her mouth, coating his tip, yet this time he holds her head in place, and she lets out a pained little howl, muffled but clearly distressed.

Sighing, he grips her hair and pulls her back again, lets her catch her breath, swallow the excess spit. Tears stream down her face, her eyes are red, eyebrows furrowed, a helpless expression mixed with something like indignation looking up at him. A low laugh escapes him, and he grips her chin and pulls her back, cock slipping into her mouth, her tongue scraping along the underside, frantic little breaths through her nose, warm on his skin.

“Relax,” he tells her, and strangely enough it's that command that lets him slip deeper, past her gag reflex, further into her tight throat. It's only a few seconds though before she gags yet again, fingernails sinking into his legs, that little uncontrollable twitch as her body fights the new sensation of having her throat stuffed. She gurgles, desperate to breathe, too panicked to relax anymore. He pushes her away, and she splutters, spit and precum flying from her trembling lips, her shoulders shaking.

It takes all of him to loosen his grip on her, but when he lets go of her chin and her hair, inhaling deeply, she looks up almost surprised. Bracing his arms on the counter behind her, he closes his eyes, fighting the urge to make her choke again. That feeling when her throat tenses around his tip, squeezes him, it's something he enjoys a little too much, almost as much as watching her suffer through it, with her tears streaming down her face and her hands digging into his legs, that desperate struggle for control.

He'll force that urge right out of her, soon. Another time.

“Suck,” he grunts instead, standing still as he leans over her.

She resumes her ministrations, one hand around his girth, pumping and stroking, while she closes her lips around his tip again, sucking and licking it, keeping it far away from the back of her throat. She's shaky and sloppy, her wet slurping noises echoing through the room, her body still trembling, but she somehow manages to bring him right to the edge after all. He feels his balls tightening, his stomach tensing up, his cock throbbing in her hold. His hands itch, clenched into fists on the counter, his body shivering. So close. So fucking close...

A deep groan escapes his throat, and he leans back abruptly, grips her hair and pulls her off him, a sharp inhale coming from the girl beneath him. Her eyes are wide as she looks up at him, and he just ignores her, hooks his hands around her elbows and pulls her to her feet. She's that tiny body he can manhandle however he wants, and she ends up on her stomach on the counter, short legs dangling off the edge, feet kicking before he cages her in, one hand on her lower back, the other moving straight to the little shiny knob sitting between her plump ass cheeks.

Before she can comprehend what's happening or try to fight him, he drags her panties aside and pulls the plug out with a plop, puts it on the counter with a clang, before he grips his throbbing cock and pushes the tip against her sphincter. She lets out a surprised wail, her hands reaching back to swat him away, but he only grabs them and bends her arms behind her back, held by one large hand. She still struggles as he pushes further, forcing his tip deeper. He doesn't have time to prepare her properly, he's close to exploding.

She whines, writhing on the counter despite his unrelenting hold, and he watches her tight muscles give way to him, the grip almost as good as her tensing throat. His crown slips in, and he stops, letting it rest there as he strokes his shaft hard and fast, until he feels that tension finally dissolve. He comes with a deep grunt, arching his head back, feeling his cock throb and twitch in his hand and in her ass.

Spurt after spurt shoots into her tightness, filling her up until the first drops seep past the tight ring of muscles that clench around him involuntarily as she squirms helplessly, sobbing softly. When he relaxes against her, shoulders sagging, the grip on her arms loosening, he wishes he'd prepared her better, made her more pliant, open her up properly to take more of him. But this'll do for now. Once the twitching subsides, he gently pulls his cock out, watching her ass gape for a moment, his thick seed slipping out almost immediately.

He pushes it back in, feeling her tense muscles close around his finger. Then he grabs the plug and brings it back into position, holding her down again as she starts squirming more, the cold metal slipping into place, plugging up his warm cum. He exhales deeply once he is done, and when he lets go of her and steps back, he can't help but slap her plump cheek once for good measure.

She sobs louder, but remains lying on her stomach, legs dangling off the edge, immobile, all the fight gone from her body. He watches her as he puts his spent dick back into his pants. “What a good girl you are,” he whispers, noticing a wave of goosebumps rippling over her skin. His hands are on her round rear, gently sliding up and down, thumbs teasing between the cheeks. He fixes her thong, nudges the plug, smirks when she flinches at the motion.

Then he grabs her waist and pulls her off the counter, turning her so he can scoop her up into his arms. Despite her reluctance and the fact that she's still crying softly, she leans against him, needy little fingers digging into the collar of his shirt. No matter how hard she fights him, fights the sensations and experiences he gives her, she is clearly craving this, his attention, the care he gives her afterwards, the gentle moments after however rough he treats her.

It's a good dynamic. It'll work, he's sure. She will be absolutely perfect.

He carries her into the bedroom, carefully putting her down on the bed. She immediately rolls onto her side, knees pulled up to her chest, wiping at her wet face, avoiding his gaze as he watches her closely. When he leans down, she flinches, but he only grabs the edge of the blanket and drapes it over her small body.

“Rest now,” he tells her, straightening back up. “I'll order us some food.”

TWO 🟥 THREE 🟥 FOUR

End notes: Just a little side note on where this story is set: it could be literally anywhere (where there are skycrapers or a downtown area with taller buildings). I did not have a specific place in mind, could be any major American city, could be a bigger European city, anywhere you like to think of. It doesn't really matter anyway. (And if it is set in America, just imagine his club to be one of those more lax ones where the drinking age isn't 21 or at least nobody cares about it.)

Also, you may have guessed it, but our male protagonist is a little bit more than just a nightclub owner. I won't go into too many details, just know he's influencial, if you'd like to call it that. And definitely intimidating enough for anyone to bow before him, not just our poor girl who might just be a little in over her head at this point.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

#ao3 original work #dead dove do not eat #dom/sub #d/s dynamic #older man younger woman #size difference #praise k!nk #modern au #joel miller smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #arthur morgan smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #original fiction

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kissmetwicekissmedeadly · 5 months ago

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MIDNIGHT CINDERELLA MEMORIAL POST

The Midnight Cinderella app will be closed on Monday August 26th, 2024 (5 PM JST). The English version was actively updated from 2014 to 2021 when Cybird announced the ceasing of operations for MidCin, but the app remained accessible until today. I'm sure I'm not the only one who mourns the loss of it even after all these years of discontinuation, so I wanted to put together a post to properly say goodbye to it. Trying my best not to make it all too sappy - I'd rather look at it as a show that reached its final episode. Some things might be left unresolved but in the end, you remember the cast and the emotions they made you feel more than the actual plot. Nowadays there arguably may be better titles by Cybird out there, but for me, the simplicity of MidCin was what made the details so memorable.

1. VIDEO - POV: You're playing Midnight Cinderella (for 10 minutes)

The 10-minute version (without sound) is accessible via the link above (opens in Google Docs) This one I was really excited about recording! It's just your normal day playing midcin, I'm sure many will find it nostalgic and comforting. You log in, claim your daily bonus (I used the chance to do a present box reveal, 90+ items, many of which you might recognize from route grace checks), play the garden gacha (in my case, I used up all the points I had accumulated, 7800 which equals 39 solos), do your princess lessons, change your avatar, greet your friends, read 1/5 of today's free story parts, check the ranking and your stats, look at your memories directory. The video has no sound, as the game wouldn't let me turn it on (you will see me try to do so throughout the video...) but later on I got it to work so I recorded a one-minute video (the one imported above) of me replenishing stamina just for those iconic sound effects that you either loved or absolutely couldn't stand the volume of, haha.

2. A Midnight Cinderella playlist (spotify link)

While I wasn't there for the early days of midcin, the songs I associated with the game almost always captured this very specifically nostalgic 90s-10s period, you'll see what I mean. Many of those are taken from 8track playlists dedicated to Midnight Cinderella, and if I'm not mistaken you can still look at what is left of them if you search them up. Others are just my very random interpretations of the route stories and the characters.

3. Fic recommendations

We have a lovely community of creatives and there are still so many works left behind which you can check out on the tags! But especially for fics I wanted to list some that truly touched me during the years (all links open in ao3) -

i'm on fire and its NSFW bonus scene bloodstream by a deleted user - words are not enough for this one. It's like it meant more than Nico's whole route for me at one point, and the songs are forever in my heart as Nico songs...

MidCin Works by DBMidCin (SoftSen) - ALL of these. This is my go-to collection of writings for midcin when I start to miss the game, it has a little bit of everything. The headcanon of Giles teaching his girls French for instance is one of the things I still remember reading like it was yesterday!

Bedroom Etiquette (NSFW) by RubyLeeRay - Because this is the dream. Doing something forbidden with your tutor Giles is the ultimate fantasy, I swear. I just love it.

And of course, many, many more. There are currently 166 works on the midcin tag in Ao3, and I'm sure there are a lot of hidden gems here on tumblr as well! Reminder that writers LOVE it when you interact with their old works, it's not weird, you shouldn't hesitate doing so if you find yourself enjoying any of them! <3

4. My own humble collection of MidCin writings on my writing blog @xxsycamore!

Maid, Butler, Chamberlain (NSFW) - Nico x MC with Giles joining them

Grabbles: 💋 Demand for a kiss, right here, right now (GILES); 👔 Stealing their clothes to cuddle when you miss them (BYRON); more coming soon as there are still some in my askbox and I plan on including midcin in future short writings request openings too.

Shared Moments (NSFW) - Nico x Reader - Secret relationship

Ice-cold heat (NSFW) - Byron x Reader - Temperature play

Double the Surprise - Alyn and Leo birthday fic

Leo Crawford having a misadventure with a cat (ao3 link) - crack fic featuring most of the suitors

5. Out of context Midnight Cinderella screenshots

This is a sideblog of mine dedicated to posting out-of-context funny screenshots that I took while playing the routes - @oocmidcin . If you have some of your own that are not on there, you're free to submit them and add to the archive!

6. The perfect MidCin song - The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives

When I first discovered this song back in 2020 I dreamed of making it into a midcin music video with simplistic art and animations... It ended up being just something you daydream in detail about while in the car, but that's alright. I could at least share my vision with you! Disclaimer, this is just an interpretation and obviously it can't fit all characters ideally - In the brackets, I explain how the lyric is related to them and usually it reveals their backstories. Some of the details I've already forgotten, sorry if it's inaccurate.)

Tell me once again

I could have been anyone, anyone else

Before you made the choice for me

(Giles - his family making the choice for him since birth and later disowning him once he failed to become a knight due to his illness)

My feet knew the path

We walked in the dark, in the dark

I never gave a single thought to where it might lead

(Nico - wandering the streets with his mother once they were thrown out of Stein castle because she was a commoner having an affair with Byron's father, the King)

All those empty rooms

We could have been anywhere, anywhere else

Instead I made a bed with apathy

(Robert - the empty rooms of the once flourishing palace of the country that Robert ruled and led to demise, nowadays becoming a mere court painter)

My heart knew the weight

Ten years' worth of dust and neglect

We made our peace with weariness and let it be

(Leo - the years in which Alyn didn't speak to him, after the death of their parents)

The moon will sing a song for me

I loved you like the sun

Bore the shadows that you made

With no light of my own

(Albert - loyally standing in king Byron's shadow)

Name your courage now

We could have had anything, anything else

Instead you hoarded all that's left of me

(Sid - his relationship with his fiance that he agreed upon just to find out more about his parents by getting close to her father)

Swallowing your doubt

Like swords to the pit of my belly

I want to feel the fire that you kept from me

(Alyn - searching for answers about the murder of his family and the fire that burnt down their home)

I shine only with the light you gave me

(I could have been anyone, anyone)

(Louis - being a nobody and MC being his sun)

7. It goes on

I went to read what I could of chapter 4 of Rayvis' route, using my last two chapter tickets as well, thinking it won't make me cry. And then I'm hit with those familiar things.

So let's close this with a word about the things that never change in the universe of Midnight Cinderella.

Stumbling down the grand staircase and right into the arms of somebody. Escaping the palace at midnight with Nico's help. Sitting at breakfast with Giles giving you your schedule for the day. Nico's teasing little smile as he accompanies you everywhere and listens to your relationship troubles. The way he's just a little suspicious at times. Finding Robert painting in the garden of Wysteria palace. Going to the room of your chosen suitor for the first time and meeting a pet there. Leo teaching you history and politics in his office. Dance lessons with Louis. Needing those dance lessons because King Byron is coming to Wysteria and a ball is going to take place. The bureaucrats being unhappy with you as a princess elect, no matter what. Galloping on a horse with Alyn who just protected you from an enemy attack. Getting information from a certain flirty merchant at a bar. Albert bickering with Nico, Sid teasing Louis. Being introduced to Archduke Herneit at Stein castle. King Byron appreciating the night sky. The sight of your yellow and orange princess elect room where on the large bed with its blue bedframe and tall see-through canopy you lie awake and think about the events of the day and how would a wise future Queen of Wysteria deal with the current situation. But ultimately you fall asleep, hearing the melancholically beautiful sounds of a violin coming from somewhere deep within your dream, and leave it all to the following day.

Thank you for everything, Midnight Cinderella!

08/26/2024

#midnight cinderella #midcin #midnight cinderella giles #midnight cinderella byron #midnight cinderella sid #cybird #otome #otome games #midnight cinderella nico #midnight cinderella alyn #midnight cinderella leo #midnight cinderella albert #midnight cinderella robert #midnight cinderella rayvis #Spotify

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glossykissies · 4 months ago

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thinking about what reader i’d pair with soldier boy and it only feels right he gets handed spoiledbrat!reader. bratty, high maintenance, pouty. soldier boy might’ve been a god-like supe with damn near all the power in the world, but at the end of the day he was also a man… and you were packaged to him like a god damn fantasy.

it was so conflicting to him, you were simultaneously everything that got him off in a woman all while challenging his beliefs. feminine, soft, supple, pink and glittering — sure, but also you had the craziest attitude, you swore like a sailor and you were demanding. it made his fists clench, and dick swell.

the first time he’d been introduced to you with the boys, having found yourself wrapped up in their world — you were the only one in the room who he detected not an ounce of fear from. you. the little thing in the corner leaning on her hip, more interested in her nail bed than the banished supe.

immediately, and much to butchers irritation (he was pushed for time, and trying to stay on track here.) soldier boy focused his attention on you, taking a draw of his cigar from the couch in the hide-out apartment.

“and who’s this pretty little poodle? you fellas let a fan tag along?” his voice is smooth and rumbly like wheels on gravel and you raise a perfectly plucked brow.

“please.”

he hums out a chuckle, not hiding the way his eyes drag up and down your body. he was used to just taking what he wanted, his time being one of those things.

“so if we could just—” hughie steps forward cautiously, attempting to regain the supes attention to get things back on track but is immediately silenced by soldiers boy lifting a hand, eyes still on you.

“no really. what’s the deal with strip-club-barbie? i have met all of you cock suckers but she’s new. if she’s not a welcome gift, what the fuck is she doing in here listening in?”

“shes one of us.” butcher gruffs, shuffling in his chair, antsy to start explaining his diabolical plans.

“yeah? what’s her thing? you fellas passin’ her around in whatever fuck-dungeon you hole up in?” he teases, and before anyone can say anything — you’re defending yourself.

“jesus christ, get with the fucking times, old man.”

soldier boy smirks, and a tense silence falls over the room — half expecting to watch you get thrown through the thin walls of the apartment at record breaking speed. surprisingly, after he’d taken an amused and analytical gaze your way — he leisurely turned his attention back to butcher. “alright, out with this plan. don’t have all day.” he drawls, taking another drag. you roll your eyes at the fact he literally has nothing else to do, and you’re sure he notices.

most of your interactions went that way after that. soldier boy would make some kind of demeaning or misogynistic comment, you’d snap back, he’d either be amused or weakly threaten you. it was like clock work, but seem to put everyone on edge every single time.

there were many times the boys thought you were done for, hurling names and insults at him when he’d caused them more harm than good — only to have him stroll right past you, uninterested in your girly tantrum and not even struggling to totally ignore you. sometimes you would irritate him, only to get a “brats like you need to be put in their place. i’m warning you.” and maybe he’d smirk because he could just sense your little clit twitching.

there was even a time all of you had to pile into one car, getting away quickly after a mission gone south. you were the last in, and there were no seats left for you.

“just fuckin’ get in would ya?” billy commanded loudly, trying to keep an eye on the oncoming commotion. soldier boy smirks, completely suited up, damn near taking up two seats in the backseat and pats his thigh, spreading his legs.

“i am not sitting on him. someone get in the trunk.” you argue, crossing your arms all spoilt.

“just grab her!” hughie exasperates from the passenger seat, used to your ways. without hesitation, soldier boy yanks you into the car with ungodly strength, pulling the door shut as they drive off. you wriggle and fight until he’s got you situated — the mountain of a bulge pressed up against your panties beneath your skirt, legs spread a little on his lap.

you give him a sulky look over your shoulder, and despite the chaos in the front of the car — he’s utterly relaxed and unbothered by everything that just unfolded. in fact, he leans back with that same smirk — adjusting his hips, nudging the fat lips of your pussy open through your panties with his bulge. he watches your eyes nearly roll back like a baby-doll.

you turn back to the front, irritated and overstimulated, breathing all heavy and mad. never in all his years has he seen a woman fight against her urges like you were. he puts his hands on your hips and you dig your nails into his skin, sustaining no damage. you scratch harder, tearing and attacking him like a baby kitten and he gazes happily out the window, unmoved.

you try to chime into the conversation up front, try to stay tuned — but everytime butcher carelessly flies over a speed bump you’re being practically forcefully dry fucked by the supe. you’re sure he could even feel you leaving a wet patch — and surprisingly, when you all pile out the vehicle solider boy doesn’t bring it up. the gratification of flustering you enough to keep him happy.

the breaking point comes when you’re appointed to ‘babysit’ him back at the hiding apartment. literally no one else is free, but they need someone there to make sure he’s where he needs to be. there’s nothing you could do to stop him from leaving, but whilst he agreed to stay there — you were sticking around to make sure he keeps his word, strictly told to alert one of the boys if he exits.

“look, i’m sorry. i would take your place but i have to help annie.” hughie stresses apologetically as they walk you up to the building.

“i’ll be fine.” you roll your eyes, more irritated that you were missing your nail appointment for this shit.

“and keep that mouth in check, yeah? i don’t fancy scraping your intestines off the walls so keep a lid on it today.” butcher warns, sending you a look before you run off.

when you walk in, he’s chowing down on a burger. so american.

“well if it isn’t my favourite.” he drawls, more interested in the TV.

“whatever. i’m here to babysit you.” you sark, setting down your purse and rifling through it for your phone charger, spotting the pink wire tangled at the bottom of your bag.

“babysittin’ huh? you certainly had the sitting part down last time i saw you. maybe today we can work on the baby part.” he chuckles at his own joke, bringing the mouth of his beer bottle to his lips.

“shutup. you know i had no choice.” you don’t know why you get so defensive, strutting over to block his view of the television — staring down at the hulk of the man resting with his feet up.

“that why i could feel your little pussy throbbing? beggin’ me to help her out? christ, maybe if you got some dick you’d quit bitching all the time.”

maybe he was right.

it’s how you end up blubbering on your back with the backs of your knees in his huge hands.

“shit, maybe i’ve been missin’ a trick with this young pussy stuff. fuckin’ perfect.” his heavy cock brushes your folds as he stretches your legs up into a humiliating pose, not caring for your sniffles and angry pouts. he pushes your knees up higher with an intrigued smirk. “you’re flexible, huh? what, were you a cheerleader in high school or something?”

“are you gonna fuck me or what?” you whine, so needy and petulant that it makes him smile.

“you modern girls. no patience.” he slaps his cock on your folds and you flinch. “relax. only polite to knock before i enter, right?”

#kodaswrld div #s.b ♡#soldier boy prompt #the boys ✮

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blackynsupremacy · 3 months ago

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CLARK KENT HELPING YOU TAKE OUT YOUR BRAIDS HEADCANONS

pairing: henry cavill!clark x blackfem!reader

fandom: DC

this was brewing in my head while actually taking out my braids today. plus, i wanted to give my baby henry a shot at this.

summary: it’s that time again! time to take down those 1-2 month old braids to prepare for your next fresh set. the only problem is, it’s raining, you’re tired, and you know it’s gonna take forever. yeah even getting your hair taken down, washed, detangled, and dried can be a hassle. fortunately, your fiancé, clark kent, is always happy to help with the process.

contains: lots of words, some things are based on true events, self insert, fluff, romance, established relationship, you and clark are simps, you and clark being fine, nudity but no smut, clark being a green flag, cuddling, kissing.

taglist: @rosiestalez @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @zombiehe4rt @elitesanjisimp @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn

(i know i didn’t ask if ya’ll wanted to be tagged, but y’all are mutuals that consistently interact with my posts, so this is how i’m showing my appreciation! thank you! let me know if any of yall want to be tagged in my next blurb. again thank yall and i love my mutes)

• work was work today.

• it’s raining like hell.

• but good news, you’re getting your hair done this weekend! ain’t nothing like a fresh set of braids.

• the bad news, you gotta take out the old braids, wash/condition/detangle, and blow dry your hair all before your appointment. (yk how these new hair stylists be)

• girl, you’re dead tired, but you know you need to start asap!

• good news again though! your man clark kent is already home and you know he’s always down to help with your hair.

• ya’ll have been dating for 4 years before he popped the question a month ago on your anniversary.

• one thing about clark kent, he’s gonna hype up your hair no matter what style.

• he believes you’re stunning whether you have braids, twists, a lace front, locs, a slick back ponytail, a silk press or, your natural. he loves it!!

• he loves to watch you style it on your own or if you’re following along to a youtube tutorial.

• you’ve taught him a thing or two like taking down braids, detangling, applying edge control, and even helping you to wash and condition it!

• he catches on pretty fast and follows your instructions to a tee.

• his love language is acts of service and when it comes to your hair, he wants to make sure he does it properly.

• he told you he wants to continue learning because he can see himself helping out with your future daughter’s hair, so why not start with his future wife?

• this man is going to be the death of you.

• you see clark sitting on the couch with his laptop. as soon as he hears the door shut followed by your sigh of exhaustion, he’s already putting that to the side and zooming in your direction to take your bag, umbrella, and jacket off your hands.

• this man is teeth rotting sweet. how’d you get so blessed?

• he greets you with a warm embrace and plants a kiss atop of your head. he peeps that new growth, but he won’t mention it until you do.

• you both take a seat on the couch and have a brief conversation about each other’s day. you sigh again and run a hand through your hair one last time.

• “it’s about that time, clark. i’m getting my hair done soon and i need to start taking my braids down, but i’m so tired!”

• you whine and lean your head on his broad shoulder before you peer your “please help me” doe eyes into his blue ones that were hiding behind his glasses. he doesn’t hesitate to keep that eye contact either. it’s so intense yet intimate. you almost look away because even after 4 years, clark can still get you a bit flustered from time to time.

• “baby, would you like to help me out again? i promise you’re not gonna have to do all the work. i just need some assistance to get this done faster.”

• you playfully pout and bat your lashes. you already know the answer, but this brought you joy. you knew he was waiting for an opportunity to help with your hair again.

• he shows off those pearly whites before he enthusiastically responds, “i’d never thought you’d ask. you go change into something more comfortable, i’ll handle the rest, and we can get started.”

• he lays a chaste kiss to your lips and pats your behind to signal for you to handle your business and you don’t hesitate to do so.

• by “handling the rest”, clark gathers the necessities: 2 pairs of scissors, a detangling comb, 4 hair ties for sectioning, a plastic bag from that one drawer in the kitchen, your satin bonnet, and an order of chinese takeout placed on doordash.

• clark was waiting on the couch and he gleamed when he saw you come back clad in a white tank, no bra, grey cotton shorts, and one of his oversized, plaid flannels.

• as soon as you found yourself comfortable on the couch, clark handed you a pair of scissors and ya’ll got to work at cutting the braids shorter before you both section off your hair into 4 parts and start unbraiding from the front.

• you started on the right side, while clark took over for the left.

• you obviously know of clark’s abilities, his extraterrestrial heritage, and his intense duties as superman. he makes sure his powers can be of help in the most important areas of his life, one of them being your relationship.

• he’s had some practice with unbraiding and his fingers moves like clockwork. he moves at a delicate, quick pace and uses his keen eye to make sure your hair doesn’t get tangled or pulled, so there’s no unnecessary breakage. braid by braid, each one is removed out of your head and into the empty, plastic grocery bag that’s placed between you two.

• he’s seen you sometimes get it tangled and you would be quick to just cut it off, but with his aid, you’ve been doing that less frequently.

• after about 30 minutes, clark can already hear the doorbell ring and footsteps walking away. the food’s here.

• he opted for contactless delivery this time because he knew he just had one more braid….and done!

• he urges you to give your hands a break from unbraiding your side and to wash them because your dinner has arrived. he chuckled as you perked up hearing that because you were hon-grey!!

• he also takes it upon himself to gently place your satin, royal blue bonnet on your head.

• it’s his absolute favorite because it’s patterned with his iconic red and gold family crest!

• you have a friend who owns a small business of designing bonnets, durags, and head scarves with the cutest patterns imaginable for black nerds like you.

• they got some with superheroes, anime characters, hogwart house symbols, disney, you name it!!

• 2 years ago, you asked them to commission a bonnet to match his heroic attire.

• this was to show him that you’re proud of his kryptonian roots and that you 100% support him being one of the world’s most selfless heroes along with the other members of the justice league.

• you sometimes worry for his life, but he always tries his best to make it back to you in one piece.

• but girl, that bonnet had him geeking when you showed it to him!! his face heated with a bright hue of pink before he plants a billion kisses all over your face. his voice never ceasing his appreciation and eternal love for you.

• you both chill for a few minutes to eat and watch some tv.

• you stretch your hands, placed your bonnet on the coffee table and resumed to unbraiding the last strand on the front before sectioning it off with a hair tie and starting on the back of the right side. it seems that time moves slower (or faster) as your fingers meticulously unravel each braided strand.

• clark is half way done with his entire side. his brows raise at the sound of your soft groan of what seemed to be pain and exhaustion.

• “babe, my fingers are starting to cramp and so are my arms.” you gripe and pause your movements to massage out the stiffness in your fingers.

• clark also pauses what he’s doing. he delicately grasps your hands into his, sprinkling tiny pecks on each aching knuckle. his pink lips lingers on the rock that adorns the fourth knuckle of your left hand before those baby blues gaze into your own eyes.

• you could clearly see your worn reflection in his pupils, but you lovingly smile as you know what he’s about to say.

• “c’mere, beautiful. let me take care of the rest while you sit and relax. it’s just a few more and it’s nothing i can’t handle, so it’ll be my pleasure.”

• that’s true. clark’s an invincible kryptonian. unless your hair was laced with some green k, a cramp within the joints of his digits wouldn’t be possible. if you ask, he would one day take out your braids all by himself without you having to lift a finger and he’d be in pure bliss of taking that burden off your plate.

• he spreads his thighs apart. the large palms of his hands encircle around your waist to shift your body in between his legs before his fingers get back to tenderly remove the last remaining braids.

• as he does so, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. ya’ll would be cracking jokes, planning suggestions for the wedding, your jobs, and a myriad of other topics to kill time.

• about 30 more minutes pass by and your braids are finally out! he leans back feeling accomplished and marvels at how much your hair has grown over the month.

• “may i?” he politely asks. his expectant eyes glancing into yours for approval.

• “of course, kal.” you grin. it’s like seeing a child light up in a candy store, he’s so elated.

• you feel more at ease and lean into his touch as his fingers lovingly caress through your natural hair and scalp.

• you know that he just wants to feel your hair in it’s natural state. it’s not out of a fetish, but out of pure fascination, so you let him!

• you love that even though you’ve been together for 4 years and he’s helped you with your hair on multiple occasions, the curious kryptonian wonders why he always has to ask you before touching your hair.

• as a journalist, he’s gonna conduct his own research.

• he educates himself and he understands the history of that one boundary in your community, so he always asks you before touching your hair or he waits for you to offer.

• he’s not even human and he understands the basic human decency of not to reach out and touch someone’s hair out of nowhere.

• you sigh in relief and thank clark with a kiss before you go to dispose the plastic bag of worn out braids to the kitchen and into the large garbage can. you turn around and lean up against the sink.

• now it’s time to wash, condition, detangle, and dry.

• clark already knows the next step. he stands from his position on the couch and stretches his back muscles. he moderately saunters to the arched threshold that separates the kitchen and living room. his tall stature works in his favor as he casually raises his arms with his hands gripping the arch that’s a few inches above his head.

• you know exactly what pose i’m trying to poorly describe to the best of my ability. it happens to be one of those non-sexual turn ons that men do without them realizing.

• you go into a bit of a hypnotic state as you stare at his bulging biceps. you also take notice of how his white t-shirt raises up to expose a small section of his sculpted abdomen. the raven tresses on his skin that perfectly matches the messy curls on his head form a trail straight down to his—

• the trance is broken by the baritone voice of your fiancé.

• “my eyes are up here, angel. were you even listening to me?” he flirtatiously quips and tilts his head with a playful smirk curving on his lips, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest.

• like some suave lady killer, he approaches you and places his index under your chin to shift your gaze to his.

• girl, not you getting caught in 4K! you know that man is fine, but you got to finish off your hair. there’s no time to waste when it comes to that, so you must stay focused.

• you can’t help, but feel the heat of embarrassment rush on your melanated cheeks and giggle nervously before you confess.

• “i’m sorry, clark! after all of these years, you still get me sprung. now, what were you saying, boo? ”

• “it’s no worries, (n/n). don’t doubt that you’ve got the same effect on me too.” he blushes himself, beaming at the compliment and pecks your forehead, nose, and lips before he resumes his question.

• “would you like to wash in the sink or shower?”

• he bursts into a joyous laugh as you don’t hesitate to choose the shower.

• of course he was hoping you’d say that, but you shut down the idea because you just want to kill two birds with one stone, wrap this up, and cuddle in bed.

• he understands where you’re coming from and it’s no pressure at all. you both love when you two get down in the bedroom, but you share a common belief that spending quality time is the key to true intimacy.

• he takes your hand and leads you both to your shared bathroom.

• he puts his glasses on the sink, switches on the shower and checks for the perfect temperature that’s not too hot for your scalp, but not too cool for your body.

• you go to obtain large drying towels, african net wash cloths, and disposable shower caps. you then seek out the shampoo, conditioner, and detangling cream to nourish and clean your hair.

• you return to the bathroom with the items and clark gets your second opinion on the water temperature. you get a feel and let him know that it’s just right before you both strip of your clothes until you’re both completely naked. you make sure your engagement ring is placed in the velvet box it came in and set it on your drawer before you both step under the running water.

• clark reaches up to detach the shower head. before making a move, he asks if you need any further assistance in this step and you gladly accept, closing your eyes as he handles the shower head to pre-rinse both of your heads for a well deserved cleaning.

• as he puts the shower head back where it belongs, you let him know that you want to do the shampooing for both you and him.

• yep, clark uses your products on his hair!

• one time after your fifth date, he hugged you and his sensitive nose stealthily picked up on the natural, sweet, and intoxicating scent of the hair lotion that seeped into your scalp. he thought at first it was your perfume, which he loves too, but he was mistaken!

• “my god, you smell amazing.”

• clark takes you out to dinner and feeds your ego! okay, kal-el!

• he couldn’t get enough of it!

• this aroma— it was like something fresh and made from natural ingredients without any harsh chemicals.

• it reminds him of the homegrown warmth and love that his parents, jonathan and martha raised him up in back in smallville.

• if it wasn’t so soon (or the fact that he hasn’t told you his secret then), he would literally fly you out there in 10 minutes.

• when you moved in together, he would sometimes sneak a bit of your shampoo and conditioner in his hair routine once or twice a week until you finally caught up to him!

• you scolded clark a bit for using your products without permission because you would’ve let him use a little if he’d ask and plus, that stuff was expensive!

• he looked genuinely remorseful and apologized. “i’m sorry, (f/n). it was wrong of me to sneak like that, but i just wanted to use it because it’s like i’m taking a part of you with me everywhere i go. that way even though we’re apart, i don’t feel so alone in this universe anymore.”

• that almost had you crying and throwing up. he’s as big a simp for you as you are for him, so you couldn’t stay mad at him!

• you had an agreement to share or double up as long as you both are putting in for it.

• it was definitely no problem for clark because besides it’s sentimental value, it does wonders for his hair! it looks healthier, shinier and it feels softer compared to those 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner concoctions that he’s been using since high school.

• he loves your weekly beauty supply store excursions. he doesn’t care if the 6 items in your cart is $35, he’s paying for it all!

• clark’s aqua pupils observes from behind as you pour a generous amount of shampoo into your palm, rubbing the other against it, and massaging the bubbly, white substance through your scalp. your fingers work to make sure every single hair on your head is lathered in the coconut scented liquid and he notices that you’re careful not to tangle it.

• his own trance is broken by a “your turn! now lean down a bit, my love.” you’re now waiting for him to follow through, leaning his head down and forward to make his now drenched, dark hair right in your view and in your reach.

• he exhales at the contact of the cold shampoo descending on his scalp. as your fingers massage through his hair, his eyes close and a smile of ecstasy plays on his lips.

• your touch, the scent of the product, and the fact that if he opened his eyes again at this very moment, your breasts would be right in his face is clark’s idea of his personal heaven.

• you both take turns to rinse your own hair and each others to double check that all of the suds of the shampoo are gone.

• you repeat the process again, but this time it’s with conditioner. once that’s applied, you both put on the shower caps to let it rest and do its thing.

• you both use that time to talk some more and thoroughly clean your bodies of the filth of the work day using the african net wash clothes and aromatherapy body wash.

• after one last rinse of ya’lls hair, you cut the water off and grab the towels set out to wrap around your soaked bodies and dripping hair before walking to your shared bedroom.

• fortunately, you and clark have your own respective hair dryers, so that step doesn’t take too long before you take on the final boss: detangling.

• still clad in your towels, you and clark apply the detangling cream through your scalps. as he uses his comb to effortlessly rake through his noir mop, you just kind of stand and stare at the detangling brush in your hand.

• if you’re tender headed, you’ve probably lived the nightmare over and over with your heavy handed mother tugging the comb through the knotted ends, jolting your head and neck forward as you whined in pain. of course she got mad at you for that and said that it didn’t even hurt.

• you’re grown now! with your own bills, home, car, job, and man. there’s way more stressful things in the world than getting some knots out.

• you start the teeth of the comb from the root of your hair and hear the wet stickiness of the detangling cream as it glides to the end.

• okay, we’re getting somewhere! no pain or the pulling of knots for the next few strands near the front. now let’s start on the back. comb one, comb two, comb three—

• “ow, ugh!” you yelp. cringing as you hit a knot at the end.

“ woah! sweetheart, are you alright?”

• clark immediately halts his actions and puts his comb down. he takes one step behind you to examine the situation.

“please, lord, don’t tell me it’s tangled that bad.”

• you attempt to comb without breaking your hair out and the more you try, the more painful it gets. your arms and hands started to stiffen again.

• you lowkey wanted to cry because you just want this to be done and sleep peacefully in clark’s arms for the rest of the night.

• you immediately ask clark for help and he once again, comes to the rescue. he was gentle and comforting, but straightforward when it came to getting those knots.

• he talks you through it to make this a little easier.

• “i’m so sorry, honey. this is gonna hurt a bit, but we’re gonna knock these out and go straight to bed in no time, okay? i love you.” he kisses your temple before he proceeds with the task.

• several minutes of detangling are over! clark gets a second shower of kisses all over his face as you thank him again.

• you discard your towels and replace them with your nightclothes. clark’s shirtless with his sweats and you’re comfortable in another one of clark’s shirts with a fresh pair of cotton shorts.

• you put your hair in an afro puff ponytail and as always, you let your fiancé do the honors of placing your superman patterned bonnet on over your hair like a king crowning his queen.

• he looks at you with such pride and joy. seeing you happy feels so good it hurts. it makes him feel as weak as when he’s around green k. maybe even more.

• clark wouldn’t feel too comfortable to wrap his hair up just yet, so you suggested he uses a satin pillowcase instead.

• speaking of pillows, you look at the clock and realize it’s gotten late. you and clark shut off the lights and retire your exhausted bodies into your bed.

• you lay in a fetal position and turn to face him. kryptonians don’t usually need that much sleep as humans do, so you weren’t surprised that he was still awake.

• you both gaze and admire each other in comfortable silence. your hand reaching to his jaw. your brown toned fingertips caress the pale yet angelic face of the man you love. he closes his eyelids and leans into your warm touch.

• like a magnet, you drew closer to his face until your, full yearning lips rested on his. it doesn’t take him a second to melt into it, his hands clinging to your waist to rest your figure on top of his. your palms find themselves to rest on each side of his jawline.

• between each kiss, the moonlight illuminates the wide smiles you exchange to each other.

• after you two get your fill of each other’s affection, you lay your head on clark’s chest with his arms still acting as a shield around your back. he pecks your temple and is pulled in by the music of your steady heartbeat. he looks down to see your eyes pointed toward his and your hands folded flat on his chest.

• “thank you, clark. thank you so much for your help, your patience, your kindness, your love, and your compassion. not to mention that you are so fine, you still get me giggling like a schoolgirl at my big age! whether you’re superman, clark kent, or kal-el, i just thank you for being you. i love you, clark kent and that’ll never change.” your lips curve with a beaming smile.

• “(f/n), you need to know that everything i do, i do it for you and i’d do it again. you’re the most beautiful person and i’m not just talking about your stunning beauty. your heart is golden. despite everything that we’ve been through, it’s always been you. you understand me, you give me grace and hold me accountable, you still believe in me when i don’t even believe in myself. that’s how i knew i had to ask you to marry me, so i love you more, (f/n) kent and that’ll never change.”

• “look at us! we’ve only been engaged for a month and it sounds like we’re exchanging vows already.”

• “that sounds like a great start to me.”

• you both laugh and he gives you one last lingering kiss on your lips. your heads drop and your eyelids close before you take your peaceful slumber in each other’s presence.

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amywritesthings · 11 months ago

Text

chocolate-covered silver. / a levi ackerman valentine's ficlet.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) word count: 1.8k summary: Happy Valentine's Day readers. Why not celebrate with some Levi Ackerman smut? note: set in the universe of silver underground

tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! pre-aot, levi's pov, explicit language, secret relationship, gifts, eating desserts, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), touch-starved idiots credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

He could kill Hange for this.

A nice gesture, they said — as if he doesn’t already wait on James hand and foot whenever the other Scouts aren’t looking.

She’ll love it, they promised — but not without adding a probably after the sourpuss scowl started forming on his face.

He’s been her close friend for over a decade.

He’s been in her bed for a fraction of that.

So why does walking to her quarters with a tiny bouquet of hand-picked flowers and imported chocolate from Wall Sina feel like such a death march?

“I’m only trying to help you out,” Hange quipped last week, interrupting his perfectly-happy afternoon tea. “Is it not a day people celebrate in the Underground City?”

“We don’t celebrate stupid shit in the Underground,” Levi corrects, fingertips locked around the mouth of his cup. “And besides, it’s a married couple’s holiday.”

“Not always,” Hange argues, finger lifting in a contrarian manner. “People who date celebrate.”

“That’s not us.”

He’s not technically wrong.

You’re not dating, but he doesn’t know what the hell this is.

Hange’s smile only widens at that. “Friends celebrate, too.”

“Then where’s my flowers, shithead?” Levi retorts.

That earns a bark of a laugh from the Section Commander. “If you want me to go pick you some flowers to put in your stallion’s hair, Levi, make no mistake — I will run out there right now.”

“That’s a present for my horse, not for me.”

Hange waggles their brows, leaning over the table and ruining his peace. “Gives you ample opportunity to pick some flowers for our hardworking Lieutenant, too.”

He told them to go away.

Now, six days later, he’s here.

He’s showing up like a dumbass at her doorstep trying not to run the other way before you know.

Are you going to think he’s an idiot for partaking in holidays that mean nothing to them?

The only gift he’d ever given you was that damned necklace you never take off. It was the only thing he could afford back then, down there, while they fought for their lives.

Although they may be still in the fight for their lives here, too, he can afford much, much more for you now.

He will buy you a thousand silver necklaces if you want them.

Clearing his throat, the Captain takes a moment to collect his resolve before tapping a knuckle against the wooden door frame.

You shuffle behind it. You must have been going over presentation plans Erwin sent over.

He debates on putting the flowers behind his back or—

“Levi?”

Shit.

Too late.

He stares at you when you open the door, blinking twice. You mirror the movements, blinking between the box and the bunch of flowers in either hand.

Mistake.

Mistake, mistake, mistake—

“Are those…?” you start, trying to hide your amusement.

Levi scowls and holds out the bouquet. “Yeah, it’s stupid.”

“I was gonna say ‘handpicked’,” you reply with a snort, taking the flowers gently from his hand. Levi can feel his heart beating a mile a minute as he waits with a forced stoicism. “What’s the occasion?”

He stops breathing altogether when you lean down to smell the aroma of the bouquet. The way your face melts from stress to enjoy the moment, the scent, has him weak in the knees.

For someone that’s been labeled humanity’s strongest, you sure have a way of making his knees buckle from nothing.

“It’s… Valentine’s Day up here,” he carefully states, hating every syllable of it.

“Valentine’s Day?” you repeat, holding the flowers close to your chest. You step back, allowing him access to your quarters. Levi doesn’t hesitate to enter.

“Some holiday where people celebrate—”

“—lovers?” you finish for him, and the captain feels like he’s trudged in quicksand. “I know. Hange mentioned it to me the other week.”

Fucking Hange.

“Funny that they did,” Levi grumbles, before turning on a heel. You close your door as he extends his arm with his second gift. “You’re supposed to spend the day with someone special to you. Someone — well, it can be a friend —”

“Oh, we’re friends?” you tease him as you take the box of chocolates.

You’re going to kill him.

“James.”

“What? It’s nice to reaffirm — oh, shit.”

He stops in his tracks, painfully aware that you’ve gasped. His eyes slide to the now-opened box full of exquisite chocolate, throat now tight with uncertainty.

Maybe you hate it.

He really shouldn’t have listened to Hange.

“This is real chocolate,” you whisper, and that uncertainty melts into something so very warm.

“As opposed to fake chocolate?” he asks to keep his wits about him. To see you scowl.

“You know what I mean, Ackerman,” you snip, and he fights every muscle in his face to keep a smile at bay. “Where the hell did you get this stuff?”

“Don’t worry about it. Here.”

He steps confidently across the bedroom floor boards to pluck a piece of chocolate out of the box, holding it up towards your lips.

“Open.”

He knows that shift in your gaze when your eyes meet.

Yeah, Valentine’s Day is known for stuff like that, too.

(He can show you.)

Obediently you part your lips, widening your mouth so he can fit the chocolate right between your teeth. It catches, and you use your tongue to pull it into your mouth.

The pleasure is instantaneous. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the real-time image burning the back of his mind, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“Is it good?” he asks, placing his hands on your hips.

“Better than good.” You hold out a piece for him. “Open.”

He hesitates when the little ball comes to his lips, but eventually he opens his mouth. You’re not wrong — it’s delicious. They don’t make anything like this underground.

It’s a luxury, though he had intended only for you to enjoy them.

Of course you’d include him.

“See what I’m talking about?” you ask with an excitement that’s damn adorable.

“It’s fine,” Levi answers, knowing the indignance that’s bound to flutter over your face. He huffs a breathless laugh before swallowing the chocolate down. “Come here.”

Lifting one hand to your chin, he pulls you in with nonexistent resistance. Your lips brush against his, at first slow then sensual.

He wants to tell you.

(Your lips taste like chocolate, but you taste better.)

But he’d rather show you.

He glides forward, using the hand on your hip to steer.

You easily comply with his steps forward, guiding you back to your bed. His plan must be in the back of your mind as he kisses you like it’s his last, but he can feel it — the way your lips curve in that knowing smile.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, voice velvety with want. It drives him insane.

“Celebrating you,” Levi mumbles in return, pushing your body backwards.

You easily fall to the bed and he drops with you, knee to the mattress. Levi crawls down, down, to the edge of the mattress with his hands preoccupied with the zipper of your casual trousers.

You don’t ask what he’s doing — all you do is giggle when he impatiently tugs the fabric down.

“As a lover or a friend?” you tease once your legs are freed.

Levi doesn’t answer.

Not verbally, anyway.

He wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you in place as he swats your legs wider. Your breath hitches from surprise — good, you’re too mouthy right now and he intends to remind you.

Friend, lover, it doesn’t matter.

It’s all synonymous to him.

You’re everything.

His past, his present —

And if he can bury his face into your pussy for the rest of his days, then it’s one hell of a future he can get behind.

The squeak of surprise rips from your lungs faster than you can stop the noise, and Levi is wholly satisfied by the sound. His tongue drags along your slit, coating his mouth with the taste of you mixed with the chocolate still lingering on his taste buds, and he groans.

This.

This is the only thing he needs for this dumb fucking holiday.

“Le—”

You can’t even finish his two-syllable name. You squirm, curse, arch, as he laps once, twice, before paying special attention to your clit.

Yeah, you won’t think straight now.

He knows you.

When his eyes flicker up from his work, he sees the way you struggle to watch him with that flushed face; how your chest heaves in that cotton shirt; how you want to encourage him, beg him, but your mind’s blank whenever his tongue swirls that precious clit of yours.

With his eyes, he says everything he needs to:

This is what I want. This is my gift from you.

Then he sucks lightly on your clit, rhythmic and calculated, and you have to slam your hand over your mouth to avoid screaming.

Good.

Fight to keep this a secret.

Because if it was his choice, he often thinks about ruining this — the image of a captain and a lieutenant, platonic and brave, like you’re not riding him in the middle of the night after a hard day of exploration and failures.

Like he’s not finger fucking you in the hallways as a reward after dealing with the higher ups in meetings upon meetings upon meetings.

Like you’re still two teenagers sneaking around, an underground flipped upside-down.

He hums and the vibrations make your legs shake. He has to keep from grinning, too focused on getting you to the edge by his mouth and his mouth alone.

You grow quiet when you’re almost there.

It’s been dead silent for several seconds.

He works overtime, arms locked around your hips to keep you in his orbit, as he licks and sucks and flicks his tongue side to side when—

That devastating sob.

The way your body arches like a woman possessed.

Thighs slam into his ears, making him feel dizzy, but he doesn’t stop.

Not until you whimper and tug and push at his hair to go away, and even then—

One last lick, for doing such a good job.

“You’re a menace,” you finally breathe, letting go of your mouth as your palm rests on your sweat-beaded forehead instead.

Levi lazily kisses down your inner thighs as you come back to planet Earth, proud of just how fast it took this time to get you there. He’s getting better at this, every single day.

Soon enough you won’t last a minute.

He’s determined for it.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m not sorry about it,” he murmurs, lips shiny and red from his efforts.

You laugh, and his heart swells.

“I think I like this holiday.”

Yeah.

Levi thinks he can get behind this holiday, too.

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oceanlix · 1 year ago

Text

Day 3: Jaehyun

Pairing: Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 1544

Warnings: Praise, begging, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, dirty talk, slight spanking, nipple play, creampie, overstimulation

Smutmas 2023 Masterlist

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry about the inconvenience. For your trouble, the airline would like to offer you a hotel voucher as well as compensation.”

You’re only half listening to the man, stars in your eyes as you watch his lips move. He should be a model, certainly not a customer service representative in a shitty airport like this one. It’s not like the other reps are ugly, either. He’s just so stupidly handsome that it’s almost ridiculous.

“Ma’am?”

You shake yourself out of your daze and apologize. “Oh god, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day! Thank you, I’ll accept the vouchers!”

The man - Jaehyun, according to his name tag clipped to his sweater vest - smirks, almost like he knows exactly what was on your mind just now. “Sure, it’s understandable. Let me just get your information and I’ll issue those for you.”

You pour all your focus into filling out the documentation, determined not to embarrass yourself any further. When you finish, you slide the paperwork across the counter to him.

Jaehyun starts to key in the necessary information, occasionally glancing over at you with a smile. “I’m going to put you up at the Hyatt, it’s the nicest hotel nearby,” he informs you, winking. The keyboard clacks away for a few more moments before he crooks his finger at you. You lean forward, wondering if you misspelled something on your forms.

“Maybe I can pay you a visit tonight after my shift ends?” he whispers, dragging his eyes up and down your body. You practically choke on your own spit, shocked that such a handsome man is so blatantly hitting on you. You aren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth though, despite how unprofessional he’s being at the moment. Apparently hot men negate all of your survival instincts; you should be more ashamed of yourself. But you aren’t, unfortunately.

You giggle nervously, while Jaehyun smirks to himself like he knows he’s already won.

—-

You’re sitting in your hotel room on the bed, dressed only in your robe and underwear as you wait for Jaehyun. You debate with yourself for a while about it being too presumptuous to be this underdressed, but he was practically devouring you with his eyes at the airport. You decide that you feel pretty safe in assuming his intent.

There’s a knock on the door that alerts you to his arrival, so you pop off the bed and nervously fiddle with your hands before going to answer. A look through the peephole reveals Jaehyun, holding a bottle of champagne and changed out of his uniform into a sleek button down shirt and slacks. Your mouth waters a little as you pull the door open.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Your heart is a stuttering mess as you invite him in, your skin tingling where his lips touched. “I brought champagne.”

He sets the bottle on the counter and turns to face you, once again letting his eyes take in your body. The robe is short, stopping just at the tops of your thighs, and his eyes linger there for a moment before he smirks at you.

“You look pretty comfortable there,” he teases, closing the distance between you. He’s gentle when he cradles your face in his hands, searching for any signs of hesitation. But you have none, and when he presses his lips to yours, the sigh you let out is soft and airy.

Jaehyun walks you over to the bed as he kisses you, his hands sliding down your body. He squeezes your ass and trails his lips down the side of your neck, groaning at the way you feel in his hands. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, toying with the hem of your robe. “Do you even know how sexy you are?”

He tugs on the belt of your robe until it comes undone, partially revealing the fancy underwear you’d dug up out of your suitcase to put on for him. With another pleased groan, he pushes you gently down onto the bed, climbing on top of you.

“I see you dressed all pretty just for me,” he coos, tracing his fingers down from your neck to right above the waistband of your underwear. You moan, throwing an arm over your eyes in embarrassment.

Jaehyun pulls your thighs apart and runs his hands up and down your thighs, getting close but not close enough to the place where you need him to touch you. You’re sure he’s noticed the wet spot on your panties by now, but he’s only teasing you, squeezing the flesh of your thighs and ass without any intent behind it.

“Please,” you whimper after a few minutes of his torture, impossibly wet and worked up. You never thought you’d be reduced to begging for a man’s cock like this, but here you are. “Jaehyun, touch me properly.”

He lets out a little scoff, slapping your thigh. “Properly? What, this isn’t enough for you?” He drags his fingers over your clothed pussy, feather light and so frustratingly slow. “You’re a mess, you know that, right?”

Embarrassingly, you feel your cheeks turn red at his words. “Only because you’re teasing me,” you argue petulantly. Your breath hitches when he suddenly pulls one of your legs up onto his shoulder, the other pulling your panties to the side.

“Fine, fine,” he relents, smirking. Jaehyun rubs two fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it around. You bite down on your bottom lip when he sinks them into you, your hips lifting up automatically.

“How’s that?” he coos, laughing as you struggle to get more friction. But with the way he has your leg propped up, you just can’t make it happen. You groan in frustration, whimpering as he pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Jaehyun,” you pant, grabbing his wrist. “At least kiss me!”

He softens, leaning down to press your lips together. He licks into your mouth while he works his fingers inside of you, swallowing every moan you try to let out. You feel your orgasm approaching, your hands frantically scrambling to hold onto him.

It doesn’t take more than a few pumps before you’re clenching around his fingers, your vision whiting out. Jaehyun guides you through it with whispered praises against your lips, fighting to hide his smile.

He pulls his fingers from your pussy and gives you a devilish grin before he puts them in his mouth, licking your juices off of them. You just about come again from the sight, letting out a soft squeal as you cover your eyes.

Jaehyun grabs your hips and rolls you over on top of him, holding you above his cock as he smirks up at you. “Can you ride it?” he asks, but it sounds more like a challenge than a request. You don’t want to disappoint him, so you nod. You grab the base of his cock and line him up with your entrance, coating the head with your wetness before sinking down.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmurs, watching as he disappears inside of you. You place your hands on his chest and take a few deep breaths as you adjust to his size, feeling fuller than you’ve ever felt before.

Jaehyun reaches up and pushes your robe down your arms, sort of trapping you. You could always move your arms and take it off completely, but the idea of having your movement restricted is hot enough that you don’t.

“That’s it,” he coos up at you, pressing his fingertips to your clit and rubbing light circles on it. “Show me how bad you want it, baby.”

You groan, lifting yourself up and dropping back down onto his cock. You barely catch the scream coming out of your throat, the head grazing that spot inside you.

“Feels so good,” you slur, digging your nails into his chest. Jaehyun hisses, landing a slap on your ass In retaliation. “Fuck, right there!”

“You really just needed to get fucked, huh?” he murmurs into your ear, holding your hips down as he grinds up into you. “Look at you, so pretty and pliant for me. Like putty in my hands, yeah?” He nips at your jawline, putting more pressure on your clit. “Come on, cream around my cock, sweet thing.”

You’re losing the battle against your orgasm, your chest heaving as you try to keep your grinding rhythmic. Jaehyun reaches up and pinches one of your nipples, sending you over the edge in surprise. You shake through your high, hips jerking away from his fingers as he rubs you through it.

Jaehyun squeezes your ass with both hands as you come down, keeping you close to him as you grind in his lap. “I’m filling you up, honey,” he coos, grabbing your jaw and pulling you into a sloppy, messy kiss. True to his word, a few seconds later you feel his hot seed hitting your walls, your pussy fluttering around him with every pulse. He kisses you through the whole thing, swallowing your moans and overstimulated whimpers.

When he’s done, you collapse against his chest in a tired mess. He pulls out of you with a hiss, petting your head gently.

#nct smut #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fic #smutmas 2023 #my fics #not sponsored by hyatt y'all lmao #300

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novaursa · 2 months ago

Text

Where Wolves Wonder (1/2)

- Summary: You and Jon were always close, but as the years went by and those feelings grew, your mother decided to put an end to it.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jon Snow

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: 2/2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The frosted breath of Winterfell’s courtyards felt sharp on your skin, yet you and Jon were unaffected as you shared quiet moments in the early mornings, wrapped in the whispers of the waking castle. As twins, you and Robb had always shared a close bond, but something about Jon’s presence grounded you in a way that felt… different. He was a mystery, dark-haired and solemn, so much unlike the rest of your family, and yet a steady presence, as constant as the winter snow itself.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jon asked softly one morning, his voice barely audible as he leaned against the training yard wall. His eyes lingered on your face, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as you approached him. “Or did you come to see if I’d frozen solid?”

You gave a soft laugh, shaking your head. “If you froze, I’d think you more of a fool than I’d ever imagined, Jon Snow,” you teased, crossing your arms and mirroring his posture.

A faint chuckle escaped his lips, but there was something softer in his gaze—a look that lingered just a second too long, as if he were memorizing every detail of your face in the dim morning light. You felt a flutter, a warmth creeping into your cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. You had seen the way he looked at you before, the way his hand sometimes brushed yours just a second longer than necessary, and yet neither of you spoke about it.

“You spend so much time with him these days,” Catelyn said one evening, catching you by surprise in one of the dimly lit hallways of Winterfell. Her tone was light, but her gaze sharp. She studied you carefully, and you forced yourself to meet her gaze, though you felt a pang of guilt.

“He’s family,” you replied, hoping that the evenness in your voice would convince her.

“Is he?” she asked, her tone a touch more pointed. “He’s your father’s son, yes, but…” Her voice trailed off, eyes narrowing, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Just… be mindful. Some bonds are best left at friendship.” Her words lingered, heavy with something unspoken, but you nodded politely, her warning pricking at your heart.

As the weeks wore on, however, it grew harder to heed her caution. You and Jon found yourselves slipping into shared conversations, hushed whispers in the darkened corners of the halls, or quiet moments near the Godswood. One evening, after a long day, you found yourself sitting beside him on a stone bench by the weirwood tree, your shoulders almost touching.

“Y/N,” Jon said, his voice a quiet murmur, “Do you ever wonder… what it might be like, if things were different?” He didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed ahead, but you could see the tension in his face, a wariness that he couldn’t quite mask.

“Different…?” you asked, though your heart already knew where he was leading.

“If… if I were truly one of you,” he said, his tone hesitant. “If there wasn’t… this distance between us.”

You placed a hand on his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his presence. “You are one of us, Jon. And to me, that’s all that matters,” you whispered.

The softness of your words hung in the air, your hand lingering in his, and Jon’s gaze softened, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d rarely seen.

But this moment was not yours alone.

Behind you, unbeknownst to either of you, stood your mother. Catelyn’s gaze was fixed on you both, her expression unreadable, yet her hands were clenched tightly, her knuckles white.

It wasn’t long before she confronted you, her voice tight with worry and unyielding resolve. “You will not spend any more time with Jon. You’re not to meet him in secret corners or dark hallways. Is that clear?”

You stared at her, heart pounding in your chest. “Mother, he’s my brother—”

“He is not your brother,” she said firmly. “There is a line, Y/N, one that you must not cross. He… he doesn’t belong as we do, no matter how much your father thinks otherwise.”

Your heart sank, anger flashing in your eyes. “How can you be so cold? Jon’s always been part of this family.”

Catelyn’s expression didn’t soften; instead, it seemed to harden. “I’m protecting you,” she said, voice laced with a hint of regret, though she pressed on. “One day, you’ll understand why.”

You turned on your heel, storming away, her words weighing heavily on you. But as the days passed, your mother’s warning settled into an insurmountable barrier, each glance shared with Jon feeling edged with longing and hesitation. Yet the ache in your chest never seemed to lessen.

Jon’s gaze found yours often in those fleeting moments across the halls, his silent question lingering between you both: What could have been, if only things were different?

The clank of steel and laughter echoed through the training yard of Winterfell. Robb’s hearty laugh boomed as he caught Theon’s playful shove, and even Jon managed a faint smile, though it was fleeting. Ever since Catelyn’s orders to keep you away, he had grown quieter, his gaze darker, lost in thoughts that weighed heavily on his heart.

“Gods, Jon, you look as if someone died,” Theon joked, leaning his practice sword against his shoulder. He gave Jon a once-over, his smirk widening as he took in Jon’s expression. “Or have you just realized that brooding doesn’t make you look half as mysterious as you think?”

Jon shot Theon a warning look, but the Greyjoy only laughed, unfazed. Robb, however, glanced between them, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the anxiety coming to light on Jon’s face.

“Leave him be, Theon,” Robb said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice too. “Maybe he’s got a ghost haunting him.” He threw a look at Jon, his grin softer. “Or maybe he’s finally realized how much work it takes to keep up with me.”

Theon snorted. “More like he’s mourning the loss of a certain shadow that used to follow him around.” His tone was casual, but his words hit close to the mark. “Funny, though, I haven’t seen her lurking around you lately, Jon. Did she finally realize she’s wasting her time?”

Jon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he looked down, unwilling to let Theon see the flash of pain in his eyes. Your absence weighed on him like a chain around his neck, each day feeling colder without your warm, steady presence. He missed the quiet conversations in the Godswood, the way your laughter softened the edges of Winterfell’s grey stone. But Theon would never understand that—he’d never understand how every second away from you felt like a punishment he didn’t know how to bear.

Seeing Jon’s expression, Robb’s smile faded. He placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Come on, Jon. Ignore him. You know Theon loves to rile people up.”

Jon forced a small smile, nodding, but he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.

“Ah, don’t take it so seriously,” Theon added, still grinning but with a slight softness in his tone as he noticed the effect his words had on Jon. “Just a bit of jest, you know. It’s not as if she’s left Winterfell.”

Robb shot Theon a warning glare, but Jon cut him off. “She might as well have,” he muttered, his voice so low they almost missed it. There was a rawness in his tone, a crack that neither Robb nor Theon had heard before.

Theon raised an eyebrow, finally catching on to just how deep Jon’s feelings ran. He let out a low whistle. “Gods, you really do have it bad, don’t you?” He crossed his arms, studying Jon with newfound curiosity. “I always thought you were just fond of her, but this… You look as if she’s been sent off to the Wall.”

Robb shot him a warning look. “Theon, leave it,” he said, his voice firmer now.

But Jon didn’t seem to hear either of them. He took a shaky breath, finally meeting Robb’s gaze. “I… I know what it must look like, Robb. And I know she’s your sister. But… it’s like she’s the only thing that makes sense here, the only person who looks at me like… like I belong.” His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “And now… I don’t know what to do without her.”

The words spilled out before he could stop himself, and he immediately regretted them, looking down as if the ground might swallow him up. He hadn’t meant to admit it, to say aloud the longing that had been festering inside him.

Robb’s expression softened, a glimmer of understanding crossing his face. He placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone, Jon. No matter what my mother thinks. I’ll talk to her.”

Jon shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “She won’t listen, Robb. Your mother… she’s right, in a way. I don’t have the same claim, not like you. I’m just… just a Snow.”

Robb shook his head, undeterred. “To hell with names and claims. You’re my brother, Jon. Nothing can change that.”

Theon, watching the exchange, sighed and rolled his eyes, though there was a faint smirk on his lips. “If you two are done with your heartfelt confessions, there’s still a swordfight to finish here. And if Jon’s too busy sighing over lost loves, then I’ll gladly take the win.”

Jon’s hand went to his sword, gripping it tighter, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked up at Theon. “You’d have to earn it first, Greyjoy.”

And for a moment, the heaviness in his chest lightened as he lunged forward, a hint of his old spark returning. But even as he clashed with Theon, the ache of your absence remained, a shadow in his heart he couldn’t shake.

Arya sat beside you, fidgeting with her needle and thread, a perpetual look of boredom on her face, while Sansa, across the table, was meticulously working on her embroidery, lips pressed in a prim line of concentration. The gentle murmur of fabric against fingers and the faint pricking of needles filled the air as you all sat in an attempt at focused silence.

But your thoughts were far from the fabric in your lap. No matter how much you tried to focus on the delicate stitch pattern, your mind kept slipping back to Jon. The look in his eyes when he’d seen you last lingered in your mind, the quiet sadness that he tried so hard to hide, masked behind his usual stoicism. Every stitch you tried to sew seemed to weave his name into the fabric, and you let out a soft sigh, pulling your needle free after yet another botched attempt.

“You’re making a mess of that,” Arya muttered, noticing the snarl of threads as you tried to unknot your embroidery.

You gave her a small, exasperated smile. “You’re one to talk,” you teased, nodding toward her own uneven stitches, which were scattered across the fabric with little care for pattern or design.

Arya grinned, undeterred. “At least I don’t pretend to like it,” she said, casting a sideways glance at Sansa, who pursed her lips.

Sansa looked up from her perfect row of flowers with a slightly disapproving frown. “It’s a lady’s duty to learn needlework,” she said primly. “Besides, it’s better than… whatever it is you’re doing.”

Arya made a face, scrunching her nose. “I’d rather be sword fighting with Bran than doing this.”

Sansa’s expression softened a little as she turned to you. “You’re distracted today,” she observed, her tone less judgmental than Arya’s but still laced with curiosity. “You’ve been sighing at that fabric since we started. Is something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, hesitating. “It’s… nothing,” you said quietly, though your voice betrayed you, sounding uncertain. But both of your sisters were watching you now, their expressions expectant, and you felt compelled to offer them something. “It’s just… strange, I suppose, how things change without you even noticing.”

Arya frowned. “What things?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Family,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “Sometimes, it feels like no matter how close we are… there’s still a wall between us.”

Arya looked puzzled, her head tilted in thought. Sansa, however, seemed to understand, her gaze growing softer. “You mean Jon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You stiffened slightly, glancing down at your embroidery. “Mother has asked me not to spend time with him,” you admitted, forcing yourself to keep the tremble out of your voice. “She says… that it’s best for everyone.”

Arya’s face hardened. “That’s not fair,” she said bluntly, scowling at the thought. “Jon’s as much family as the rest of us.”

You managed a sad smile. “Yes, but Mother… sees things differently. She thinks it’s better to… to keep us separate. She believes it will only lead to trouble.”

Sansa’s expression softened with sympathy. “I know she can be… strict,” she said gently, choosing her words with care. “But I think she’s only trying to protect you. It may not seem fair, but she’s thinking of what’s best, I suppose.”

Arya rolled her eyes, clearly less concerned with your mother’s intentions. “Well, it’s still stupid,” she said firmly. “You and Jon have always been close. I don’t see why that should change just because Mother has some silly ideas about what’s proper.”

A smile tugged at your lips despite the ache in your heart. Arya’s loyalty was unwavering, a constant source of warmth. “Thank you, Arya,” you murmured, appreciating her blunt honesty. “But I have to listen to her. For now, at least.”

Sansa, watching you carefully, reached across the table and took your hand, her grip gentle yet reassuring. “If it helps, you know we’re here for you,” she said softly. “Even if Jon can’t be as close… we’re still your family, and that won’t change.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand in return. “I know. I just… miss him,” you whispered. “More than I thought I would.”

Sansa’s hand slipped back to her sewing, her gaze thoughtful as she looked down at the floral patterns she’d been carefully stitching. “Maybe one day, Mother will see things differently. Perhaps she’ll understand that Jon’s part of us, too.”

Arya’s voice broke in, her tone defiant. “And if she doesn’t, then who cares? Jon is still here, isn’t he? He’s still family, no matter what anyone says.”

You smiled at Arya’s fierce protectiveness, her determination to see things in simple terms. For a moment, your heart felt lighter, as if the weight of your mother’s judgment could be softened by the loyalty of your sisters.

As the afternoon sunlight faded into golden hues, you knew you had to find a way to reconcile the longing in your heart with the boundaries set around you. But with Sansa and Arya by your side, you felt just a little less alone.

The castle was alive with a rare buzz, a tension that pulsed through the stone walls of Winterfell like a storm on the brink of breaking. King Robert Baratheon and his family had arrived that morning, and the atmosphere had shifted in a way you’d never experienced. Servants bustled, the smell of roasting meats hung in the air, and everywhere you looked, there were flashes of gold, crimson, and banners snapping in the cold Northern wind.

In the chaos of the royal visit, you managed to slip away from the eyes of your mother, of Sansa, and even of Arya, who had taken to hiding from the stern Septa who was assigned to “improve her manners.” You found Jon exactly where you expected: near the Godswood, watching the activity of Winterfell unfold from a distance, the cool detachment in his eyes like a protective shield.

“Jon,” you called softly, stepping forward, but he didn’t need to turn. You could tell he knew you were there from the softening of his shoulders, the way his stance shifted.

“Y/N,” he murmured in greeting, and there was a flicker of warmth in his gaze as he looked at you, a brief break in his guarded expression. Ghost, his silent white shadow, stood at his side, watching you with those intense, red eyes. Your own direwolf, Shadow, stepped up beside you, her dark coat blending into the shaded trees, her amber eyes fixed on her brother.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing in the pocket of silence that the Godswood offered, a calm oasis in the midst of all the chaos.

“Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” Jon remarked, nodding in the direction of the castle, where banners and torches flared in the brisk wind.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “It’s exhausting, is what it is. I feel like I’m in a cage. But at least here…” You glanced around, your gaze finally settling back on him. “It’s quieter.”

Jon’s expression softened, though there was a shadow in his eyes. “A cage,” he echoed. “I suppose I know that feeling too.”

It was then that you remembered the whispers you’d heard in the halls, the snatches of conversation that mentioned Jon and the future he’d chosen. The words had tugged at your heart, but you hadn’t had a moment to ask him if they were true. Now, as you stood before him, the question pressed on your tongue like a weight you could no longer hold.

“Jon,” you began, your voice low, almost hesitant. “Is it true? That you’re… planning to join the Night’s Watch?”

He looked at you, surprise flickering across his face before he glanced away, nodding slowly. “Yes,” he admitted, his tone resigned but steady. “I’ve spoken to Uncle Benjen about it. He says there’s a place for me there, and…” He paused, searching for the words. “It feels like the right choice. Like it’s where I belong.”

You swallowed, a pang of sadness tightening in your chest. “The right choice? Jon, you don’t have to do this.” You stepped closer, your hand brushing against his. “You belong here. You belong with us… with me.”

He looked down, his face unreadable, though his jaw tightened. “Here?” he echoed, his voice laced with bitterness. “What am I here, Y/N? A reminder of what shouldn’t be, a ghost that haunts your mother’s halls.” He shook his head, the muscles in his face taut. “Out there, with the Night’s Watch, I could be someone, serve a purpose. I’d have a place, even if it’s at the edge of the world.”

“But you already have a place,” you insisted, your voice thick with emotion. “With us—with me. I don’t want you to go.”

For a heartbeat, he looked at you, raw and vulnerable, his gaze filled with a pain you recognized but had never truly understood. “Y/N,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t stay here, not when I’m… so close to you, yet so far.”

Just as the silence between you grew heavy, Ghost and Shadow, sensing the change, exchanged a look before darting into the woods. Startled, you glanced after them, their forms blurring into the shadows of the trees.

“Ghost!” Jon called, his voice cutting through the stillness, but his direwolf paid him no mind, disappearing deeper into the trees with Shadow following closely.

Without a second thought, you both broke into a run, slipping between the trunks and branches as you chased the wolves. The air grew cooler as you moved further from the warmth of Winterfell, the sounds of the castle fading behind you. You finally caught up to them in a small clearing, where they had stopped, sniffing at something half-buried in the grass—a fallen bird, probably knocked from a tree by the wind.

Breathless, you stood beside Jon, a faint laugh escaping your lips at the sight of the two wolves nosing at the bird as if deciding whether it was worth their time.

“They’re quite the pair, aren’t they?” you said, glancing at Jon, your smile fading as you caught the lingering sadness in his eyes. He hadn’t stopped looking at you since you’d left the Godswood, and there was something between you, thick and unspoken, that words couldn’t seem to touch.

He took a step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill of the forest. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low. “You’ve always been the one thing that made staying here bearable. I… I don’t want to leave you, but…” He hesitated, struggling to find the words. “But I don’t know if I can be what I’m supposed to be here.”

You placed a hand on his arm, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath the wool and leather. “And what are you supposed to be, Jon? Some… stranger sent to the Wall? You’re more than that. I see more in you than any title or duty.”

He closed his eyes, the conflict clear in the way he clenched his jaw, his fingers curling around your hand where it rested on his arm. “I wish things were different. I wish… I wish I could stay. But every time I see your mother’s eyes, I’m reminded that I don’t belong here.”

The distance you’d both run from Winterfell had made the world feel smaller, the space between you shrinking as he finally turned to you fully, his eyes holding a quiet despair mixed with longing. He was close, so close that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breaths mingling with yours in the cold air.

“Maybe one day, I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice barely a murmur as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “But I need to do this, for me. You understand that, don’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding, though your heart felt as if it were breaking. “I understand, Jon. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop missing you.”

His gaze softened, a hint of a sad smile flickering on his lips. “I’ll miss you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

For a fleeting moment, you were both suspended in the silent woods, lost in the ache of what could never be spoken aloud. You felt his hand linger on yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in a way that made letting go feel impossible.

Then, as if sensing the silent goodbye, Ghost and Shadow returned to your sides, each wolf nudging against their human. You shared one last look, an understanding passing between you that held all the words you couldn’t say.

And then, without another word, you turned and made your way back to Winterfell, side by side but feeling worlds apart.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf x reader #fire and blood #hotd #house of the dragon #got/asoiaf #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got jon snow #jon x reader #jon x you #jon x y/n #jon snow #house stark

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