#and the other night i was sitting there. and i thought ‘who the hell am i.’ and then i realized that’s such a fucking hajime ass thought

[jupiterpilgrim]

Contracts

Mina x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

Six months is a long time to sit with an unanswered question, but it hasn’t felt like that. The days blurred into each other, filled with relentless work and little else. You buried yourself in it. Meetings that stretched until midnight, furious emails fired off at 2 AM, a stream of initiatives you pushed through without second-guessing. It wasn’t just about productivity anymore—it was personal. An escape, a distraction, a weapon you wielded against your own thoughts.

But Mina still lingers, doesn’t she? Her face, her laugh, the way she looked at you that night before you kissed her. The memory clings to the corners of your mind like a ghost. She disappeared without a trace. No goodbye, no explanation. You’d gone to her apartment a few days after her phone went silent, desperate for answers. You hadn’t planned it, hadn’t thought it through—you just needed to see her, to ask why. But it was too late.

You don’t know what you did wrong. Or if you even did anything wrong at all. You go over every moment you spent with her, from the first time you saw her to the last time she smiled at you, trying to piece together the reason she vanished. But all you’re left with is the memory of her—the mystery, the pink collar, the way she kissed you like she meant it.

You met her on one of the worst nights of your life.

It was the same day the HR audit came crashing down on you and Joy, threatening to turn your office affair into a scandal. You were careful, you always were, but careful doesn’t count for shit when someone decides to start digging. Joy—brilliant, confident, razor-sharp Joy—was collateral damage. They moved her into a new position in another department, far enough away to keep your reputations clean but not close enough to keep her in your orbit.

You were furious that night. Not at her—never at her—but at the situation. At the loss. At the fact that you could still smell her perfume in your office but knew she wouldn’t be back.

That’s why you were at the hotel rooftop bar, whiskey in hand, trying to burn off the frustration of the day. It wasn’t your scene, not really, but you didn’t want to go home either. Your mansion felt too empty, too still.

And then you saw her.

Mina was sitting alone at a small table near the edge of the rooftop, a glass of wine in front of her that she barely touched. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her face, and a thin pink collar around her neck, catching the light whenever she shifted. She didn’t look like the kind of person who came to places like this. There was no boldness in her, no hunger to be seen. Instead, she looked fragile, almost… lost.

You hadn’t planned to talk to her. Hell, you weren’t even sure why you walked over in the first place. But something about her drew you in, like a song you couldn’t ignore.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, standing just close enough to catch her attention.

She startled slightly, her dark eyes meeting yours. For a moment, she just stared, like she couldn’t decide if you were a threat or just a stranger. And then, finally, she nodded. “Sure.”

From there, it unfolded in a way you didn’t expect. She was quiet, reserved, but there was something magnetic about her presence. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she was nervous. The soft lilt of her voice when she finally started to relax. You spent hours at that table, talking about nothing and everything.

She didn’t know who you were. In fact, she disappeared before she even knew your last name. And that's what irritates you the most, she wasn’t trying to impress you or pry into your life. She was just… Mina. Delicate, thoughtful, a little melancholic. And when she finally laughed at one of your terrible jokes, it hit you like a gut punch. That laugh was worth chasing.

When the night wound down, you couldn’t leave it there. You asked if she was free the following Friday, and while she hesitated at first, she eventually said yes. That yes was everything.

Over the next few weeks, you saw her again and again. Dinner dates, quiet walks, coffee in tucked-away cafes. Every time, she wore that pink collar around her neck, like it was her signature. Sometimes she paired it with pink earrings or a soft cardigan, little pops of color that somehow suited her perfectly.

She fascinated you. She was so different from anyone else in your life. While most people around you were loud, demanding, or always trying to prove something, Mina was the opposite. She was quiet, thoughtful, and mysterious. And that mystery—it got under your skin. She was careful about what she shared, especially about her personal life. Every time you asked about her work, she’d deflect or give vague answers, like she was hiding something. It didn’t feel malicious, though—just private. And for a while, you let it slide.

Because being with her felt good. It felt right.

You fell for her without even realizing it. It wasn’t one big moment—it was a series of small ones. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about a book she loved. The way she chewed her bottom lip when she was nervous. The way she’d trace the rim of her glass absentmindedly during your dates.

And then there was the night you kissed her.

It was after dinner, and you were walking her back to her apartment. The street was quiet, the air cool against your skin. She looked up at you, her dark eyes catching the glow of a streetlamp, and you couldn’t stop yourself. You stepped closer, brushing your fingers against her cheek, and when she didn’t pull away, you kissed her.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was the kiss. The kind that made everything else fall away. Her lips were soft and warm, and when she kissed you back, clutching the front of your jacket like she didn’t want to let go, you thought, This is it. This is the moment.

When you pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven. She looked at you like you’d just knocked the wind out of her, and you knew she felt it too.

But that was the last time you saw her.

The next day, her phone went straight to voicemail. The day after that, her number wasn’t receiving messages anymore. You waited a few days, hoping it was some kind of mistake, but when you went to her apartment to find her, you were told she’d moved out.

No forwarding address. No explanation. Just gone.

You spent the next six months wondering. Did she like you? Did she feel the same way? Was the kiss too much, too soon? Or was there something else, something bigger that you didn’t see coming?

You don’t have answers. All you have is the ache of her absence and the memories she left behind. And that damn pink collar, burned into your mind like a ghost you can’t let go of.

—

The office feels different when you walk in. Not unfamiliar, but strained. It’s subtle—an edge in the air that clings to the walls, the carpet, even the people. You feel it the second you step off the elevator, pulling your carry-on behind you, your suit jacket slung over one shoulder. The receptionist glances up from her desk, her usual smile faltering before she offers a polite “Welcome back.” It’s not much, but you notice it.

You’re too tired for this shit. Ten days of nonstop flights, endless presentations, and late-night negotiations in boardrooms on the other side of the world. Foreign investors who didn’t understand—or didn’t want to understand—the pitch. Cultural nuances you had to navigate carefully, smiling through every insult wrapped in a compliment. You came back expecting at least a day to decompress, but instead, you’re greeted with a summons to the conference room like you’re an employee being called into HR.

The floor is quiet as you make your way down the hallway, your polished shoes muffled against the carpet. Too quiet. You glance into a few open offices, catching glimpses of employees huddled over desks, their eyes darting away when they notice you. It’s not paranoia; you know how they talk when you’re not around. They think you don’t hear it. That you’re too far up the ladder to notice the whispers about Joy, about the HR audit, about your temper. About your recent decisions. But you notice. And right now, you don’t care enough to put on a show.

When you push open the door to the conference room, they’re all there: the board members, key investors, a couple of senior executives. A carefully curated group of people who like to pretend they’re on your side but are really just here to protect their interests.

“Welcome back,” says Marianne from marketing, her tone overly cheerful, like she’s trying to neutralize the temperature in the room before it boils over.

“Spare me,” you say, dropping your bag by the door and shrugging off your jacket. You toss it onto the back of a chair, not bothering to sit yet. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

There’s a beat of hesitation. The group exchanges glances, as if silently debating who’s going to take the hit and speak first. It’s Greg, of course—an older board member who’s been around since the early days but never lets you forget how much he disapproves of how you’ve “changed” since then.

“We wanted to discuss the upcoming gala,” Greg says, his voice slow and deliberate, like he’s addressing a particularly difficult child. “It’s an important event, and we need to ensure we’re putting our best foot forward.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes for a moment. “The gala,” you repeat flatly. “That’s what this is about?”

“It’s not just any gala,” Marianne says quickly, leaning forward in her chair. “It’s the philanthropic tech event of the year. A lot of eyes will be on us, and—”

“And you think I don’t know how these events work?” you cut her off. You can feel the room tense, but you don’t care. “I’ve been to enough of them to know they’re all the same. CEOs patting themselves on the back for donating money they won’t miss, a parade of egos disguised as charity. What exactly do you need me there for?”

Marianne hesitates, her gaze flicking to Greg like she’s hoping he’ll take over. He does. “Because, like it or not, you’re the face of this company,” Greg says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “You can’t just send someone else to represent us. That would send the wrong message.”

“What message would that be?” you snap, finally sitting down at the head of the table. “That I’m too busy actually running the company to waste my time playing dress-up with a bunch of people I can barely stand?”

There’s a silence that stretches just a little too long. Then one of the investors—a younger guy with a suit that probably cost more than your first office did—clears his throat. “Look, we get it. You’re busy. But this isn’t just about appearances. The auto manufacturers will be there. The same ones we’ve been trying to get on board with the software project. This could be the perfect opportunity to… plant some seeds.”

You hesitate, running a hand through your hair. As much as you’d love to blow this whole conversation off, you can’t ignore the opportunity. The car software is a game-changer—your brainchild, built to make vehicles smarter, smoother, and damn near self-sufficient. Real-time diagnostics, predictive maintenance, AI-driven efficiency tweaks—it’s all there, cutting down waste, boosting performance, and making sure no one’s stranded on the side of the road because their engine decided to have a meltdown. It’s not your first rodeo, either. You’ve already spearheaded optimization software for logistics firms, shaving seconds off response times and millions off wasted fuel. The automation tools you built for manufacturing? Same deal—streamlining operations, reducing errors, and making sure no one has to play babysitter to outdated systems. If this gala gets the right people listening, maybe it’s worth putting on a suit and playing nice.

“Fine,” you say finally, your voice clipped. “I’ll go. But I’m not promising anything beyond showing up.”

“That’s all we need,” Marianne says quickly, relief flooding her voice. But then she hesitates, her smile faltering slightly. “Well… almost all.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “What now?”

“It’s just…” She glances around the room, clearly hoping someone else will say it. But no one does, so she presses on. “These events are as much about perception as they are about substance. Most attendees bring someone with them—a partner, a date. It’s… expected.”

You lean back in your chair, staring at her like she’s just asked you to juggle flaming knives. “You want me to bring a date?”

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” she says quickly, holding up her hands. “Just someone. It’s all about the image we present. Polished, relatable—”

“Relatable,” you cut her off, the word dripping with sarcasm. “That’s what we’re going for now?”

Her face flushes, but she holds her ground. “It’s about optics,” she says firmly. “These events are political, whether we like it or not. And if we want to maintain our standing in the industry, we need to play the game.”

The room goes quiet again, all eyes on you. You can feel the unspoken tension, the undercurrent of unease that’s been building ever since the audit. They’re worried about you. About your temper, your decisions, the fallout from Joy’s reassignment. They don’t say it, but it’s written all over their faces.

You stand abruptly, pushing back your chair with a scrape that makes a few people flinch. “I’ll think about it,” you say, your tone cold.

Before anyone can say another word, you grab your jacket and bag and walk out, the door closing behind you with a decisive click. You don’t look back.

You head to your office, shutting the door behind you and sinking into the chair behind your desk. The city sprawls out beyond the glass wall, its lights twinkling like a sea of restless stars. You stare at it, your thoughts drifting despite yourself.

The idea of bringing someone to the gala feels… impossible. You’re not exactly the dating type these days. Work has consumed you, chewed up whatever was left of your personal life after Mina disappeared. And the thought of standing in a room full of egos and ulterior motives, pretending to care about small talk, feels like a special kind of hell.

But the software. The cars. The deals you could make…

You lean back in your chair, exhaling slowly. “Relatable,” you mutter to yourself, the word bitter on your tongue.

—

The week barrels by, every day a relentless stream of meetings, strategy calls, and preparation for the gala. It’s happening in Vienna, a city as gilded and ostentatious as the egos that will crowd into its marble halls for this spectacle of “philanthropy.” Between the chaos of work and the logistics of the trip, you nearly forget about the whole date situation—until the executives start harping on it again.

“You need to bring someone,” one of them had insisted just this morning, his voice grating as he delivered the same spiel you’ve been hearing for days. “These events are as much about perception as they are about deals. A polished image. Approachable. Human.”

It doesn’t matter how much you hate this game, or how fake it all feels—appearances do matter. And the truth is, there’s no one you want to bring. The thought of dragging some boring socialite or ambitious entrepreneur along for the night feels unbearable.

That’s when you remember the card.

You’re halfway through packing for the trip when you spot it in your desk drawer, tucked under a stack of old notes and business receipts. It’s sleek, black, and understated, with only a name and a phone number embossed in silver. One of your friends, another billionaire tech genius with a taste for indulgence, had passed it to you years ago over whiskey in his penthouse. “For emergencies,” he’d said with a wink, and you’d stuffed it in your pocket, brushing it off as something you’d never need.

Now, though…

You think back to the last time you hired an escort. It had been a waste—nothing but a pretty face with no substance, a shallow girl who bored you half to death with vapid chatter before the sex finally salvaged the night. You’d sworn off the idea after that. But this card, this agency, is supposed to be different. Exclusive. No websites, no social media, nothing that leaves a trail. Just a whisper network for the ultra-rich. And right now, with the gala looming and no other options, it’s starting to feel like your best bet.

On your private jet, somewhere over Europe, you make the call.

The woman who answers is professional but guarded, her tone smooth and unhurried. “Yes?”

“I need someone,” you say, skipping past pleasantries. “For an event tomorrow night in Vienna. The best you have, and I don’t care what it costs.”

There’s a pause on the other end, a beat too long. “That’s not quite how we operate, sir,” she says, her voice carefully measured. “Our process is tailored, discreet. We—”

You cut her off, your tone firm and impatient. “I don’t need the details. Just make it happen. I’ll pay triple.”

The offer hangs in the air, and you can practically hear her calculating on the other end. Money talks, and you’re fluent in it.

“Very well,” she says finally, her voice softening just slightly. “We’ll send someone to meet you at the event. She’ll be dressed appropriately. I'll call you later to finalize the details.”

“Good,” you say, and hang up without waiting for a response.

By the time you land in Vienna, you’re running on fumes. The trip has been exhausting, and all you want is a few hours of sleep before the circus begins. The hotel is luxurious but impersonal, all polished stone and muted elegance. You crash almost as soon as you hit the bed.

—

The night of the gala arrives faster than you’d like, and you’re already on edge as you step into the limousine waiting outside the hotel. The city lights blur past the tinted windows, but your mind is elsewhere.

You haven’t thought about Joy in a while, not really. But tonight, as you sit in the back of the car, waiting for your escort to arrive, her memory creeps back in. You think about how effortless it would’ve been to bring her. She would’ve been perfect—her smile, her smart mind, the way she always seemed to put you at ease without even trying. But she’s gone. They took her away from you.

Your security guard interrupts your thoughts with a knock on the window. You roll it down, barely glancing at him. “What is it?”

“She’s here,” he says, holding out the card she gave him. It’s identical to the one in your desk, confirming she’s from the agency.

You nod, gesturing for him to let her in. “Send her over.”

The door opens, and she steps inside, her soft “Good evening” breaking the quiet.

You glance up, expecting nothing more than another pretty face. And then the air leaves your lungs.

It’s her.

Mina.

For a moment, you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t fucking breathe. She’s standing there, halfway into the car, her hand gripping the doorframe like she needs the support. She’s just as shocked as you are—her dark eyes wide, her lips slightly parted as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

“Mina?” you manage to say, your voice rough and disbelieving.

Her name seems to snap her out of it. She swallows hard, her gaze darting away as she steps fully into the car and sits down across from you. “I… didn’t realize it was you,” she says quietly.

You stare at her, still trying to process what the hell is happening. She’s different, but not. Her hair is styled more elegantly, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Her dress is black and fitted, hugging her slender frame and dipping low enough to hint at the curve of her breasts. But it’s the pink collar around her neck that catches your attention, that unmistakable touch of Mina that tugs at something deep inside you.

“You’re…” You trail off, shaking your head as if that’ll make sense of any of this. “You’re the escort?”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. “Yes,” she says softly, her voice tight with shame.

Your mind is a mess, a thousand questions crashing into each other. She was gone. Disappeared without a trace. And now here she is, sitting across from you, dressed to kill and working for a high-class escort agency.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence is heavy, charged, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

Finally, you lean forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you look at her. “Where the hell have you been, Mina?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she glances out the window, her profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. “It’s… complicated,” she says eventually.

“Complicated?” you repeat, your tone sharper than you intended. “You disappeared. No calls, no messages. Nothing. And now I find out you’re… this?” You gesture vaguely, frustration bleeding into your words.

Her eyes snap back to yours, a flicker of defiance breaking through her shame. “You don’t understand,” she says, her voice trembling but firm.

“You’re right,” you say, your jaw tightening. “I don’t. So why don’t you explain it to me?”

But she doesn’t. She just sits there, her gaze dropping back to her lap, her fingers tightening around the hem of her dress.

You exhale sharply, leaning back in your seat and running a hand over your face. This is not how you expected tonight to go. Not even close.

And yet, despite the anger simmering in your chest, you can’t stop looking at her. Can’t ignore how beautiful she is, how utterly mesmerizing she looks sitting there in the dim light of the car.

Mina. After all this time.

For a split second, you think about kicking her out of the car. The words are halfway out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “I should make you get out,” you say coldly, the weight of everything—her disappearance, her reappearance like this, her fucking job—all slamming into you at once.

Mina flinches, her body going rigid as she stares at you, her wide eyes glistening like you’ve just slapped her.

But then you catch yourself. The anger, the confusion, the tidal wave of emotions—it’s too much, too fast. You take a deep breath, dragging a hand down your face and forcing yourself to calm the hell down. “I didn’t mean that,” you say, your voice softer now, but still tense. “It’s just… this is a lot to process.”

Mina doesn’t say anything at first, but her shoulders relax slightly. She looks down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress. “I understand,” she says quietly, though her tone is laced with something else—shame, maybe, or resignation.

You lean back in your seat, running your hand over your face again. Part of you doesn’t know whether to be furious or relieved. You’d convinced yourself she was gone for good, a chapter closed without any closure. And now here she is, sitting across from you, stunning and poised, but not at all the person you thought she was.

The car hums quietly as it moves through the city, the tension thick and suffocating. You exhale sharply, glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice low. “For being… rude.”

Mina’s head tilts slightly, and she looks at you with cautious curiosity.

You sigh, shaking your head. “It’s just… you disappearing like that. No calls, no texts. And now… this? It’s a lot. But I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

The silence stretches again, but it feels a little less sharp this time. You glance at her again, really looking at her now. Her dress is elegant, black and perfectly tailored to her slim frame, with a deep neckline that highlights the delicate curve of her collarbone. Her hair is swept over one shoulder in loose waves, and her pink collar—the one she always seemed to wear—stands out against the otherwise dark palette of her outfit. She looks stunning, radiant even, and it’s infuriating how much it still gets to you.

“You look beautiful,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She blinks, her cheeks flushing faintly as she glances at you. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“We’ll need to talk after this,” you say, your tone firmer now.

Mina nods, her hands still tightly clasped in her lap. “Okay.”

—

When the car pulls up to the venue, you’re greeted by the inevitable swarm of photographers stationed outside. You force a smile, your jaw tightening as camera flashes light up the night.

The door opens, and you step out first, straightening your jacket as the cameras shift their focus to you. You turn, offering a hand to Mina as she steps out of the car.

For a moment, there’s a murmur from the crowd, a ripple of intrigue as they take her in. She’s stunning, no question about it. You place a hand lightly on her lower back as you guide her toward the entrance, pausing briefly to pose for a few photos. Mina’s smile is soft but steady, her composure flawless despite the cameras flashing in her face.

“Have you ever been to one of these events before?” you ask her quietly as you walk.

“A few,” she admits, glancing at you.

“Good,” you say with a faint smirk. “Then you know how to behave.”

Her lips twitch, almost like she wants to smile but is holding it back. “I think I can manage.”

Inside, the venue is as over-the-top as you’d expected—marble floors, glittering chandeliers, and a sea of impeccably dressed elites mingling with glasses of champagne in hand. The hum of conversation fills the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the soft clink of glasses.

You guide Mina through the crowd, pausing occasionally to greet acquaintances and exchange polite pleasantries. To your surprise, she handles herself with ease, her demeanor poised and elegant. She smiles softly, speaks when spoken to, and moves through the room like she belongs there.

And then, she surprises you again.

You’re speaking with a pair of Italian businessmen, partners of a major European car brand, their thick accents making the conversation a little slower than usual. One of them turns to Mina, asking her a question in rapid Italian, and before you can step in, she responds. In fluent Italian.

The conversation shifts seamlessly, Mina’s voice calm and confident as she speaks with them. She even laughs lightly at something one of them says, her smile soft but genuine.

You don’t realize you’re staring until the older of the two men turns to you, his smile wide and impressed. “She’s incredible,” he says in heavily accented English. “You’re a lucky man.”

You force a smile, nodding stiffly. “Thank you.”

But the surprises don’t stop there. Later, you find her speaking with a group of Spanish executives, her voice slipping effortlessly between English and Spanish as the conversation flows.

By the time she rejoins you, you’re struggling to reconcile the woman standing in front of you with the quiet, almost shy girl you thought you knew.

“You didn’t tell me you spoke Italian and Spanish,” you say, your tone more curious than accusatory.

She shrugs lightly, her lips quirking into a small smile. “You never asked.”

Before you can respond, another acquaintance approaches, drawing your attention away. But even as you smile and shake hands, your thoughts keep drifting back to her.

You’re impressed, no doubt about that. But the lingering frustration, the unanswered questions, the feeling of being blindsided—it’s all still there, simmering beneath the surface.

This isn’t the Mina you thought you knew. But maybe, just maybe, the real Mina is just as captivating.

—

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the car’s engine humming softly as the city blurs past. You’re drained—mentally, physically, the whole damn package—but there’s a small, smug satisfaction simmering underneath the exhaustion. Three major car brand owners, all genuinely interested in what your software could do for the next generation of vehicles. Real conversations, not just polite nods and empty promises. And Mina? She was a godsend. Every time one of them looked ready to move on, she’d tilt her head just right, flash that effortless smile, and keep them hooked long enough for you to land your pitch. Now, she’s sitting beside you, quiet, hands folded neatly in her lap, staring out at the passing lights. The pink collar around her neck catches in the dim glow, a soft contrast to the sharp perfection of her black dress. You steal another glance, fingers twitching against your knee. You should be thinking about contracts, deals, next steps—but all you can think about is her.

Now, back in the confines of your hotel suite, the performance is over. The mask you’ve been wearing all night slips off the second you shut the door behind you.

You loosen your bow tie and toss it onto the table, shrugging off your jacket before sinking into the chair by the window. The soft glow of the city filters through the glass, illuminating the room in a faint golden light. Mina sits on the edge of the bed, her posture stiff, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She doesn’t look at you, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the air conditioner.

You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees as you stare at her. “Okay,” you say. “Talk.”

Mina finally looks at you, her expression cautious. “About what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” you say, a little sharper than intended. “Why did you disappear?”

She flinches slightly at your tone but recovers quickly, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Isn’t it obvious?” she says quietly.

“Humor me,” you reply, leaning back in the chair.

She hesitates, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress. “Because of my job,” she finally says.

You had suspected as much, but hearing her say it still hits harder than you’d like. “That’s it?” you ask, frowning. “That’s why you ran? Because you’re an escort?”

Mina looks up at you then, her dark eyes flashing with something sharp and defensive. “It’s not that simple,” she says. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you shoot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because it doesn’t make sense. You’re not like the others. High-class escorts are supposed to be confident, polished, untouchable. But you…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely at her. “You’re shy. Reserved. You don’t fit the mold.”

Mina scoffs softly, shaking her head. “What difference does it make when I got into this?”

“It makes a difference to me,” you say, your voice firm.

She narrows her eyes at you, her posture straightening slightly. “Why? So you can tell yourself it wasn’t your fault? That you didn’t miss the signs?”

You bite back a retort, inhaling deeply to steady yourself. “You could have told me,” you say after a beat, your tone softer now.

She laughs bitterly. “And then what? You’d disappear like all the others? Make me feel like I’m disgusting? Like I’m not worth the time or effort because of what I do?"

The way she says that disarms you, and for a moment, you’re silent, trying to process what she’s saying. And then, clear as day, you realize: she was working the night you met her.

“You’re not disgusting,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “I just—who are you, Mina? Because the girl I met on that rooftop and the woman I saw tonight… they’re not the same.”

Mina stands abruptly, smoothing her dress as she takes a step toward the door. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” she says, her tone clipped.

You rise from the chair, crossing the space between you before she can reach the handle. “You’re not leaving,” you say firmly, stepping in front of her. “Not yet. I'm paying for your company, remember?"

Mina looks up at you, her expression defiant but tinged with uncertainty. “What are you going to do? Keep me here just to humiliate me?”

“No,” you say, your voice dropping as you reach for her waist, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of her dress. “I’m not going to humiliate you. I want to know you. The real you.”

Her breath hitches at your touch, her hands hovering near your chest as if she’s not sure whether to push you away or pull you closer. “Why?” she whispers. “What’s the point? I’m not who you thought I was.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice steady. “I want all of you. The parts you think I’ll hate, the parts you’re scared to show. I want the truth, Mina. No more running. No more pretending.”

She stares at you, her lips trembling as she tries to form a response. Finally, she exhales shakily, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I liked you,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “On the rooftop, I mean. You were… different. And I was stupid enough to think I could pretend. Go on normal dates. Be a normal girl. But then you kissed me…”

Her voice falters, and she looks away, her hands falling to her sides. “It was too much,” she says softly. “I couldn’t keep going. It would’ve hurt more if I let it continue.”

You don’t give her a chance to say anything else. You close the distance between you in one swift motion, your hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck as you kiss her. It’s nothing like the first kiss. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s deeper, hungrier, fueled by the months of unanswered questions and the tension crackling between you now.

Mina responds instantly, her hands gripping your shoulders as she kisses you back just as fiercely. The taste of her, the softness of her lips, the faint tremor in her body—it’s all intoxicating, pulling you under like a riptide.

When you finally pull back, you rest your forehead against hers, your breath coming in uneven bursts. “You don’t get to disappear again,” you say, your voice rough with emotion. “Not this time.”

She nods faintly, her fingers clutching the front of your shirt as if she’s holding on for dear life. “Okay,” she whispers.

You tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze. “I want you, Mina,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “All of you. No more walls. No more hiding.”

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching yours. Then she nods again, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. “Okay,” she says again, and this time, it feels like a promise.

Your lips crash into hers again, the taste of her intoxicating, the soft, urgent gasps she makes spurring you on. You don’t even realize you’re walking her backward until her legs bump against the edge of the mattress. She stumbles, her balance faltering, and falls back onto the bed with a shy, breathy laugh.

The sight of her—her flushed cheeks, her dark eyes looking up at you, a mix of nerves and anticipation—hits you harder than it should. You lean over her, your hands braced on either side of her as your mouth finds her neck. You kiss her there, firm and insistent, letting your lips brush over the pink collar around her throat. It feels like her signature, soft and delicate and entirely hers.

Mina’s breath catches, her fingers fumbling at the buttons of your dress shirt. She’s careful at first, her movements slow, but there’s a growing urgency as her fingers work their way down. Once the last button is undone, you shrug the shirt off yourself, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. Her hands hover over your bare chest for a moment, her touch light and hesitant, and you swear the way she’s looking at you might undo you.

You reach for the hem of her dress, tugging it down with deliberate slowness, revealing inch by inch of her soft, smooth skin. When her small, perky breasts come into view, the sight alone is enough to make your pulse hammer in your ears. Her nipples are already hard, and the way her chest rises and falls with each unsteady breath drives you wild.

“Mina…” you murmur, your voice rough, almost hoarse. You run your thumb over one of her nipples, watching the way she shudders under your touch, her lips parting in a soft gasp.

You lower your head, kissing the swell of her chest, letting your mouth trail down until you reach her breast. You take her nipple between your lips, sucking gently at first, then harder, your tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Mina moans, her hands gripping the sheets, her back arching slightly as she presses herself closer to you.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice shaky, needy. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You move to her other breast, your hand cupping the one you’ve just left behind as your mouth closes around her nipple. You suck harder this time, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make her gasp. Her hands are in your hair now, her fingers tugging slightly as you nibble on her, her moans getting louder.

She’s perfect, every sound she makes spurring you on, every little movement pulling you deeper into her. You drag your teeth over her nipple again, your tongue soothing the spot right after, and the way she trembles beneath you makes you want to devour her completely.

“More,” she breathes, her voice barely audible but filled with need. “Please…”

Your kisses trail lower, down her stomach, across the soft, warm skin that seems to shiver under your lips. Her breathing is shallow, quickening with every inch you descend. The dress is bunched up around her hips now, and as you glance down, you see her panties—black, lacy, and sheer, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive you insane. They’re perfect, teasing just enough of the treasure beneath.

You pull back for a moment, standing and tugging your belt loose in one fluid motion. The clink of the metal fills the quiet air between you as your hands move with purpose. Shoes off. Pants next. Mina sits up slightly, her eyes widening when her gaze falls to your cock, straining against the fabric of your underwear as she takes off her high heels. Her reaction sends a thrill straight to your core, and you smirk as you hook your thumbs into the waistband, shoving them down.

Her breath catches when you finally reveal yourself, her eyes locking onto your cock as it stands thick and hard, the tip already slick with pre-cum. You give it a slow, deliberate stroke, your fingers gliding down the length before squeezing lightly at the base. “Like what you see?” you ask, your voice a low, teasing growl.

She nods quickly, her cheeks flushed, her lips parting as she swallows hard. “Yes,” she whispers.

Her answer sends a surge of heat straight through you, but as you step closer, you pause, something pulling at the back of your mind. “Fuck,” you mutter, your hand dropping to your side. “I don’t have a condom.”

Mina shakes her head almost instantly, her expression soft but sure. “I don’t need it,” she says, her voice trembling just slightly. “Not with you.”

Something about the way she says it—the trust, the certainty—makes any hesitation on your part disappear. You don’t waste another second.

Your hands are on her again, sliding her dress the rest of the way down before hooking into her panties. You tug them off slowly, savoring the way the lace clings to her skin before revealing her, already glistening with arousal. The sight makes your cock twitch in your hand, the need to take her overwhelming, primal.

You kneel between her legs, lifting them slightly, and let the head of your cock brush against her slick folds. She gasps softly, her hips shifting instinctively, but you hold back, teasing her, letting the tip barely press against her entrance.

“Beg for it,” you say, your voice low and commanding. “Be a good girl and tell me how much you want my cock.”

Mina’s head tilts back, her cheeks flaming red as she whimpers. “Please,” she breathes, her voice cracking. “Please, I want it. I need it. Please…”

The desperation in her voice pushes you over the edge. You press forward slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until you’re buried inside her completely. She’s tight, hot, and soaking wet, her walls clenching around you as she moans loudly, her fingers gripping the sheets beside her.

You don’t move right away, savoring the way she feels around you, the way her body seems to mold itself to yours. You lean down, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face as you meet her gaze. “You were beautiful tonight,” you murmur, your voice softer now. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.”

Her breath hitches, her lips trembling as she stares up at you. “I was waiting for this,” she confesses, her voice shaky but filled with something raw and honest. “For you. To be… used by you.”

Her words ignite something in you, a darker hunger that’s been lurking just beneath the surface. You grip her thighs tightly, pulling back just enough to thrust into her hard and deep. The sudden movement makes her cry out, her hands flying to your shoulders for support as her body arches beneath you.

You set a brutal pace, pounding into her relentlessly, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. Each thrust drags another moan from her lips, her nails digging into your skin as she clings to you. “That’s it,” you growl, your voice rough with exertion. “Take it. Be my good girl.”

“Yes,” Mina whimpers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her moans. “Yes, please…”

Her submission, her eagerness to please, only spurs you on, driving you deeper into her, harder and faster. You want to break her in the best way, to ruin her for anyone else, to claim every part of her until there’s no doubt in either of your minds who she belongs to.

Your hips crash into hers, the sound of skin meeting skin sharp and echoing in the quiet of the room. Mina’s moans fill the air, high and desperate, each one more breathless than the last. She clutches the sheets beneath her, her body trembling as you pound into her without mercy, your thick cock stretching her in ways that make her lose herself completely.

“Fuck,” she gasps, her voice cracking as her head tilts back. “You’re so big. I can feel you so deep.”

You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you drive into her relentlessly. She’s completely at your mercy, her small body taking everything you give her, her pussy squeezing you like she doesn’t want to let go.

“Look at you,” you growl, your eyes locked on her. “Taking my cock like a good fucking girl. You love this, don’t you? Being used like this?”

“Yes!” she cries out, her voice breaking with need. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop!”

Her perky tits bounce with every thrust, hypnotic in their movement. You can’t look away, the sight of her completely undone beneath you making it impossible to think about anything else. Sweat glistens on her skin, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from how hard you’ve kissed her.

You lean forward, one hand still gripping her thigh while the other slides up her body. You pause at her throat, your palm resting lightly against her warm, delicate skin. Her eyes snap open, wide and shining with pleasure and trust. She lifts a trembling hand, placing it on your wrist as if to say: I want this. Keep going.

Your fingers tighten slightly around her throat, just enough to make her gasp. Her pupils dilate, her body arching into yours as she lets out a choked moan. The way her pussy tightens around your cock makes you groan, your control slipping as you press harder into her.

“Such a fucking slut for me,” you mutter, your voice rough with exertion and lust. “You like that? You like being choked while I fuck you like this?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, her voice barely audible but dripping with desperation. “I love it. I love it so much. Please, don’t stop. Please…”

Her face contorts with pleasure, her eyes fluttering shut as you pound into her harder, deeper. You watch her completely unravel, her lips parted, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged bursts. Her nails dig into your wrist, not to stop you but to ground herself as the pleasure overtakes her.

“Look at you,” you say, tightening your grip just a fraction more. “So fucking perfect. So desperate for me.”

She nods weakly, her body trembling beneath you, her voice breaking as she tries to respond. “Only for you,” she manages to whisper, her words slurring with pleasure. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

Her submission sends you over the edge, your hips snapping into her with a brutal pace, each thrust hitting so deep that she cries out, her body writhing beneath you. Her pussy clamps down on you, pulling you in, milking you for everything you’re worth.

You don’t let up, your hand still wrapped around her throat, your cock buried to the hilt inside her as you drive her higher and higher. Her legs shake, her moans turning into incoherent sounds of pleasure as she completely gives herself over to you.

Your hand slides from her throat to her mouth, your thumb brushing over her swollen lips. Without hesitation, Mina parts them, her tongue darting out to tease the pad of your finger before taking it fully into her mouth. Her eyes lock onto yours, dark and full of lust, as she sucks sensually, her lips wrapping around your finger like she’s begging for more.

“Fuck, Mina,” you growl, the sight of her completely undoing you.

You keep thrusting into her, deep and relentless, your hips snapping against hers as she moans around your finger. The wet heat of her mouth, combined with the tight grip of her pussy clenching around you, pushes you dangerously close to losing control. She’s perfect, completely in the moment, her body moving with yours in desperate rhythm.

You pull your finger from her mouth, watching the way her tongue flicks out, almost reluctant to let you go. But you’re not done yet. Leaning down, you grab her legs and lift her slightly, repositioning yourself. You press your weight into her, chest to chest, as you drive your cock even deeper. The new angle has her gasping, her head pressing back into the mattress as your pace quickens.

“Oh my god,” Mina cries out, her nails digging into your shoulders. “You’re so deep… fuck, don’t stop.”

“Never,” you growl, your voice rough as you bury yourself inside her again and again, each thrust making her tits bounce deliciously beneath you.

The bed creaks beneath the force of your movements, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. You lower your mouth to hers, kissing her hard, swallowing her moans as you fuck her with everything you have. She kisses you back just as fiercely, her nails scraping down your back, leaving a burning trail of pleasure-pain in their wake.

“I’m going to cum,” she gasps against your lips, her voice shaking with urgency. “Oh god, I’m so close.”

“Then fucking cum,” you growl, your hips slamming into her faster, harder. “Cum all over my cock, Mina. Be a good girl and let go for me.”

Her body tenses, her legs trembling as her orgasm crashes over her. She cries out, her back arching off the bed as her nails dig deep into your skin, enough to draw blood. The sting only fuels you, and you keep fucking her through it, slowing your pace just enough to draw out every wave of pleasure coursing through her.

“Fuck, yes,” she moans, her voice shaky and raw. “That was so good… your cock feels so fucking amazing.”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Good,” you murmur against her skin. “because I'm not done with you yet.”

Mina’s eyes widen slightly, but there’s no hesitation, only anticipation. You pull out of her slowly, your cock slick and glistening with her arousal, and sit back on your heels. “Ride me,” you command, your voice low and firm.

She doesn’t need to be told twice. She moves quickly, her body lithe and eager as she straddles you, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips. You grip her waist, guiding her as she lowers herself onto your cock.

“Fuck,” you groan, your head falling back as her tight heat envelops you. “That’s it. Take it all, Mina.”

She gasps, her hands resting on your chest for balance as she starts to move. Slowly at first, rolling her hips in a way that has you gripping her tighter, your fingers digging into her skin.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” you growl, your eyes locked on the way her body moves. “Bouncing on my cock like this. You love it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice trembling as she picks up the pace. “I love it. I’m your slut. Only yours.”

Her words send a jolt of heat through you, and you reach up, cupping her breasts and squeezing them as she rides you. Her rhythm becomes more desperate, her moans louder as she moves faster, her pussy tightening around you with every thrust.

“Look at you,” you mutter, your voice low and rough. “So fucking perfect. Keep going, Mina. Show me how much you want it.”

She throws her head back, her hands sliding up your chest to your shoulders as she grinds down on you, her movements erratic and wild. She’s completely lost in it, in you, her body trembling as she pushes herself closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you thrust up into her, meeting her movements with equal intensity. “You’re mine, Mina. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she cries out, her nails digging into your shoulders again. “Only yours. Always.”

Mina moves like she was born to do this. Every roll of her hips is deliberate, every bounce calculated to drive you insane. The shy girl you met on that rooftop—so quiet, so reserved—is nowhere to be seen now. In her place is a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing, her confidence radiating with every moan she lets slip from her lips, every swivel of her body.

Her hands are braced against your chest, her fingers digging into your skin as she rides you with a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. Her thighs flex and relax with each movement, her slick heat gripping your cock so perfectly it’s a miracle you haven’t completely lost it yet.

“Fuck, Mina,” you groan, your voice thick with lust. “Look at you. So fucking sexy. You ride my cock so fucking good.”

She tilts her head back, her hair falling in dark waves over her shoulders, her lips parted as she moans softly. “Yes,” she gasps, her voice breathy and raw. “I love the way you feel inside me. So fucking deep.”

Her pace quickens, the bounce of her hips becoming more frantic as she starts chasing her own pleasure. You grab her waist, your fingers digging into her soft skin, guiding her movements as she grinds down on you. Her breasts sway with each thrust, sweat glistening on her skin, and the sight of her—completely lost in the moment, consumed by you—is almost too much.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” you growl, your gaze locked on her. “The way you move, Mina… Jesus. You’re going to make me lose my fucking mind.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as she shifts her angle, grinding her clit against you with every downward motion. Her eyes flutter shut, her lips trembling as her breathing becomes ragged.

“I’m so close,” she whimpers, her voice high and desperate. “Oh god, I’m so close.”

“Then cum,” you tell her, your grip tightening on her waist as you thrust up into her. “Cum for me, Mina. Let me see you fall apart again.”

Her body trembles, her movements growing more erratic as she spirals toward her peak. Her moans turn into cries, high and uncontrollable, and her hands slide up to your shoulders, clutching at you like she’s trying to hold on for dear life.

And then she’s there.

Her orgasm crashes over her, her head snapping back as she cries out your name, her voice breaking. Her body tightens, her pussy clenching around your cock like a vice, her thighs trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her. Her face wrinkles in ecstasy, her brows furrowed, her lips parted in a silent scream.

She’s breathtaking, her sweaty body glistening in the low light, her chest rising and falling as she struggles to catch her breath. Her hips move in small, involuntary circles, riding out every last shudder of her climax.

“Fuck, Mina,” you groan, watching her come undone on top of you. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She collapses onto your chest, her body still trembling, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven bursts. For a moment, neither of you moves, the room filled only with the sound of your heavy breathing.

You brush her hair out of her face, tilting her chin up so she’s looking at you. “Get on your knees,” you say, your voice low and commanding.

Mina’s eyes widen slightly, but there’s no hesitation. She nods, sliding off of you with shaky legs and sinking to the floor between your knees. Her dark eyes meet yours as she leans forward.

She knows exactly what you want. And she’s more than ready to give it to you.

Your hand grips the base of your cock, the slickness of her pussy still lingering on your skin as you look down at her.

“Suck it,” you growl, the heat in your voice unmistakable. “Make me cum, Mina. Show me what that mouth can do.”

She nods slightly, leaning forward without a word. Her hands wrap around your cock first, small and delicate against the thick length of you. Her tongue flicks out, teasing the tip, swirling around it before she takes you into her mouth.

The warmth of her lips, the wet heat of her tongue—it’s perfect. She starts slow, deliberate, her head bobbing gently as she works her way down your cock. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and the sight of her like this—on her knees, her mouth full of you, her eyes wide and obedient—makes you groan, your head tilting back as pleasure rolls through you.

“Fuck, Mina,” you mutter, your voice tight with arousal. “You’re so fucking good at this. Taking me so well.”

She hums around your cock, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. Her hands move in sync with her mouth, stroking the base as she sucks harder, her tongue swirling with every movement. It’s like she knows exactly what you need, every flick of her tongue, every suctioned pull perfectly calibrated to drive you wild.

You lose yourself in the sensation, your hands finding their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands. At first, you guide her gently, setting the pace, but as the heat builds, as your cock twitches in her mouth, your control starts to slip.

You grip her hair tighter, pulling her down further onto your cock, forcing her to take more. She gags slightly, the sound muffled but unmistakable, and it sends a bolt of heat straight to your core.

“Take it,” you growl, your voice rough. “Take it all, Mina. I’m going to use that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You start thrusting into her, shallow at first but quickly building to a relentless rhythm. Her hands grip your thighs for balance as you fuck her mouth, your cock sliding deeper with every thrust. She gags again, her throat constricting around you, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans into it, her nails digging into your skin as she lets you use her.

Drool drips from the corners of her mouth, slicking your cock, her chin glistening as you push her harder. Her eyes are watering now, tears slipping down her flushed cheeks, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull back. She’s determined, her soft moans vibrating around you as she takes everything you give her.

“Fuck, Mina,” you groan, your head tilting back as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. “You’re so fucking perfect. Taking my cock like a good little slut. That’s what you are, isn’t it? My good girl.”

She moans around you, the sound muffled but desperate, and it’s all you need to push you closer.

You pull out of her mouth suddenly, your cock glistening and drenched in her spit, twitching with need. Mina looks up at you, her lips swollen and shiny, her tongue darting out to lick them as she waits. Her mouth stays open, her eyes full of trust and anticipation.

You stroke yourself, your hand tight and fast, your cock slick and aching as you chase your release. “Keep your mouth open,” you command. “Don’t move.”

She obeys, tilting her head back slightly, her tongue out and ready. The sight of her like this—on her knees, her face flushed, her mouth open and waiting—sends you over the edge.

You groan loudly as you cum, thick ropes of it spilling onto her tongue and lips in hot, pulsing bursts. Mina moans softly as you fill her mouth, her body shivering with pleasure even as she stays perfectly still, letting you coat her tongue.

When you’re done, you kneel down in front of her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Show me,” you say, your voice softer now but still firm.

She sticks her tongue out slightly, and there it is—a pool of your cum glistening on her tongue, thick and creamy. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through you, and you cup her chin gently, tilting her face up toward you.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your thumb brushing her cheek. “Swallow it. All of it.”

Mina closes her mouth, tilting her head back slightly as she swallows. When she opens her mouth again, it’s empty, her tongue clean, and she looks at you with a small, shy smile that somehow makes your chest tighten.

You exhale slowly, your hand still on her face as you study her. “From tonight on you will not go out with any other man,” you say quietly, the words more a promise than a statement. “I'm serious. No one else. Just me.”

Mina nods, her voice soft but certain. “Just you.”

—

The transition from occasional meetings to something closer to a routine happens so gradually it almost doesn’t register at first. After that night at the gala, you find yourself booking Mina more and more, under the guise of needing her for “company” during your frequent travels. But you both know the truth: you can’t fucking get enough of her.

You were torn at the outset. Why on earth would a man as powerful as you be so desperate for a girl like her? But the truth is: she’s perfect—so perfect it’s almost maddening. Every time you’re with her, she becomes exactly what you need in that moment. In bed, she’s your personal plaything, your perfect little slut, ready and eager to take whatever you give her. On your private jet, she’s perched prettily in lingerie, always obedient, always ready to be fucked, her body an open invitation. Hotel rooms become your private playground, the kind of places where nothing is off-limits, where she lets you push her boundaries because she craves it just as much as you do.

It borders on obsession. No—fuck that. It is obsession.

In Tokyo, you have her wrists tied to the bedposts with silk scarves, her body stretched beneath you like a gift. The glow from the city outside bathes her skin in soft light, highlighting the tension in her muscles as she squirms, testing the bonds.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you say.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” she whispers back, her voice breathy, her wide eyes filled with trust and something deeper—something that pulls you in and refuses to let go.

You take your time with her, trailing kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, across her chest. Her breathing turns shallow, her body trembling as your mouth and hands explore every inch of her. When you finally slide inside her, she’s soaking wet, her moans breaking apart into cries as you fuck her harder, watching her tied hands clench the silk in desperation. She comes so hard you think she might shatter beneath you, her body arching, her face contorted in pure ecstasy.

In Dubai, the energy is different—hotter, darker. You’re wound up from tense meetings and late-night calls, and Mina knows it the second she steps into your suite. She’s wearing nothing but a black lace bra and panties, her signature pink collar around her neck.

She kneels without a word, her hands behind her back, her eyes on yours. You don’t ask if she’s ready—she always is.

You bend her over the edge of the bed, her perfect ass in the air, and slide your belt free from your pants with a deliberate snap. The sound makes her gasp, but she doesn’t flinch.

“Count,” you command, your voice low and rough.

“One,” she whispers when the first strike lands.

Her skin reddens as you bring the belt down again and again, each strike met with a shaky gasp or a soft moan. By the time her ass is glowing red and hot to the touch, she’s trembling, her arousal unmistakable. You grip her hips and thrust into her from behind, leaving bruises in your wake. Her cries fill the room, a mix of pain and pleasure as you take her harder, deeper, until she’s nothing but a writhing mess beneath you.

Then there’s New York. That night, you make it clear you’re not letting her waste a single drop. She smiles at you, shy but teasing, already knowing what’s coming.

She rides you with abandon, her small body taking every inch of your cock, her tits bouncing as she moans your name like a prayer. When you cum inside her the first time, she doesn’t stop. She keeps grinding, keeps fucking herself on you until you’re hard again, thrusting up into her like you’re starving for it.

By the time you’re finished, her thighs are slick with your cum, her pussy swollen and drenched. She’s trembling, her body exhausted, but instead of collapsing, she slides down your body and wraps her lips around your cock.

Her tongue works over you, her mouth hot and wet as she moans softly, licking and sucking until there’s not a single drop left.

“Fuck, Mina,” you groan, your hands tangled in her hair as she looks up at you with those dark, needy eyes. “You love it, don’t you? You love the taste of me.”

She hums in agreement, nodding slightly, her lips never leaving you.

Every night with her is different. One night, you’re tying her up and making her beg for release. The next, you’re spanking her until her ass is red and she’s dripping down her thighs. And sometimes, you just fuck her senseless, cumming inside her again and again until you’ve marked every inch of her.

But there’s more to Mina than the way her body bends to your will, more than the way she moans your name like it’s the only word she knows. She listens. Actually listens. And you realize, between the wild nights and stolen afternoons, you talk to her. About the shit that weighs on you, the things you can’t tell anyone else. The pressures of running an empire, the endless fucking grind, the rare moments when even winning feels hollow.

Mina doesn’t offer advice, doesn’t try to solve your problems. She just listens, her dark eyes steady and attentive, her presence soothing in a way that catches you off guard every time. It’s almost unfair how she makes it so easy to let your guard down.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? You don’t just want her when you’re fucking her. You want her all the time.

The realization hits you like a freight train one night after you’ve had her pinned against the window of your hotel room, the city lights framing her naked, trembling body as you fucked her into oblivion. She’s lying beside you now, her head resting on your chest, her finger sliding in circles on your skin.

You think about how empty the room would be if she wasn't here. How empty you’ll feel.

“You should work for me,” you blurt out, the thought spilling out of your mouth before you can stop it.

Mina props herself up on one elbow, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“Work for me,” you repeat, more certain this time. “Be my secretary.”

She blinks, caught off guard. “I’m not a secretary.”

“You don’t have to be,” you say, sitting up slightly. “It’s not about the work. I’ll hire a team to handle the complicated shit. All I need is someone to keep me organized. And I’ll pay you triple what you’re making now.”

Mina gives you a skeptical look, her lips twitching like she’s holding back a laugh. “Triple?” she echoes. “You must be desperate.”

“I am,” you admit without hesitation, your voice steady as you meet her gaze. “Desperate to have you close. All the time. Whenever I need you.”

Her expression softens, her eyes searching yours like she’s trying to figure out if you’re serious. “You’re offering me a job just to keep me around?”

“Exactly,” you say, your tone firm. “It’s not just about the sex, Mina. It’s about you. I need you. And I want you close, always.”

She hesitates, biting her bottom lip as she looks away, clearly thinking it over. “It’s a little… unorthodox,” she says finally, her voice soft but thoughtful.

You smirk, leaning closer to her. “You’re not exactly conventional either, are you?”

That earns you a small laugh, and she shakes her head, her hair falling into her face. “Fair point.”

“Come on,” you say, your tone more coaxing now. “You’re already spending most of your time with me. This just makes it official. And you’ll still get to do all the things you love—travel, nice hotels, insane shopping sprees.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, clearly unimpressed by the pitch. “You think that’s all I care about?”

“No,” you say seriously. “I think you care about me. And I know you don’t have to admit it, but I think the idea of staying close to me doesn’t sound all that bad to you.”

Mina’s quiet for a moment, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of the sheet covering you both. When she finally looks at you again, there’s a hint of a smile on her lips, soft and almost shy.

“You’re not wrong,” she admits quietly. “Being close to you… I do want that.”

“Then say yes,” you urge, your voice low and steady. “Let me take care of you, Mina. Let me give you everything you need.”

She exhales slowly, her eyes holding yours. And then, after what feels like an eternity, she nods.

“Okay,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

You lean forward, cupping her face in your hands as you kiss her deeply, your relief and satisfaction pouring into the kiss. Mina melts against you, her hands sliding up your chest as she kisses you back with equal intensity.

“You’re mine now,” you murmur against her lips, your tone possessive but laced with affection. “Completely mine.”

She smiles, her eyes soft but full of mischief. “Completely yours,” she echoes, and you know she means it.

—

Mina’s heels click against the polished floors as she follows Joy through the office, her new world opening up piece by piece. She’s dressed for the part—her blouse crisp, her pencil skirt snug but professional, her legs encased in sheer pantyhose that give her a glossy, polished look. She looks the part of a perfect secretary, but inside, she still feels like she’s playing dress-up.

Joy, ever the professional, explains everything with a bright, polite tone. She gestures at different parts of the office, outlining schedules, expectations, and protocols, her sharp heels and tailored blazer giving her an air of authority. Mina listens intently, nodding at all the right places, but there’s a slight tension between them.

Though Joy doesn’t say anything outright, her expression gives her away. The slight smirk when she points out where you keep your coffee mugs. The deliberate pause before she mentions how you like your coffee—"black, one sugar, and hot, always hot.” The unspoken understanding that Mina being here, in this role, is exactly what it looks like.

“And one more thing,” Joy adds, stopping in front of the large windows that overlook the city. She turns to Mina, her tone casual but with an edge of amusement. “He likes his secretary to look polished. Always. Makeup, hair done, dressed appropriately. A bad appearance isn’t tolerated. But,” she glances over Mina’s outfit with an approving nod, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.”

Mina forces a polite smile, brushing down the front of her skirt. “Got it,” she says.

Joy leads her further down the hall, showing her where the copier is, which rooms are used for what, and how to deal with the insufferable HR manager if she comes sniffing around. The tour feels endless, and Mina’s starting to wonder if she’ll remember any of it when she hears footsteps behind her.

You appear at the other end of the corridor, walking toward them with a small group of sharply dressed men. You’re talking, your tone commanding but easy, and the men hang on your every word. When you glance up and see Mina, your lips curve into a subtle smile, one only she would catch.

Mina’s breath hitches, but she composes herself, offering a small, shy smile in return.

Joy notices the exchange, of course. Her smile tightens, but she keeps moving, walking Mina back to her desk. “He’s busy, as always,” Joy remarks, gesturing toward your office. “But you’ll see. He’ll find ways to keep you occupied.” There’s no mistaking the implication in her tone.

Mina settles into her desk as the morning stretches on. She organizes papers, files emails, and starts getting into the rhythm of things. It’s nothing like what she imagined doing with her life, but then again, neither was the career she fell into before this. Compared to that, this feels… almost normal.

Almost.

The intercom on her desk buzzes, pulling her from her thoughts. Your voice comes through, smooth and firm. “Mina, coffee. Black, one sugar.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies automatically, standing and smoothing her skirt before heading to the break room.

By the time she gets to your office, the coffee steaming in her hand, she’s nervous. Not visibly so, but inside, her stomach twists slightly as she knocks on the door.

“Come in,” you call.

She steps inside, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor. Your office is spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the room in light. You sit behind your desk, leaning back slightly in your chair, your jacket off, the sleeves of your crisp white shirt rolled up to your forearms.

She places the coffee on your desk, careful not to spill a drop.

“Lock the door,” you say casually, not looking up from the paper you’re skimming.

Mina hesitates for only a second before walking to the door and turning the lock. The soft click echoes in the quiet room, and when she turns back, you’re looking at her, your gaze steady and unreadable.

“Come here,” you say, gesturing her closer.

She steps around the desk, her heels sinking slightly into the plush rug as she moves toward you. When she’s within reach, you take her hand and pull her gently onto your lap.

The action surprises her, but she doesn’t resist, settling awkwardly at first before relaxing slightly against you.

“You look pretty in this outfit,” you say, your voice lower now, more intimate.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing faintly.

Your hands rest on her thighs, sliding slowly down over the smooth nylon of her pantyhose. The sensation is electric, the soft, subtle texture under your palms.

“You look better than Joy ever did,” you add, your lips curling into a small smirk.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she glances down at you. “She’s nice,” Mina says cautiously.

“She is,” you agree, your hands tightening slightly on her thighs. “But she’s not you.”

You lean in, brushing your lips against hers. Your hand sliding higher on her thigh. Her lips part slightly, and you take the invitation, your tongue brushing against hers in a slow, deliberate tease.

Mina’s breath catches, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. She’s warm, soft, her perfume faint but intoxicating. You pull back just enough to look at her, her lips slightly swollen, her cheeks flushed.

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, your voice thick.

And then you kiss her again, harder this time, pulling her closer as the world outside your office fades away.

—

Your routine with Mina shifts quickly, sliding into something that’s almost second nature. From the outside, she’s the perfect secretary—always punctual, dressed immaculately, her makeup and hair pristine, her skirts tight enough to catch eyes but not enough to scream unprofessional. Inside your office, though, she’s something else entirely. She’s your pet.

It starts subtly, a blowjob here, a lingering kiss there. But soon, it becomes routine. Every morning when she brings you coffee, Mina doesn’t just set the cup down and leave. She locks the door behind her, her heels clicking on the floor as she steps around the desk. She drops to her knees without a word, her dark eyes looking up at you as she unzips your pants.

“Good morning, boss,” she murmurs, pulling your cock free.

You smirk, leaning back in your chair as her lips wrap around the head, warm and wet and eager. She works like it’s her job—and in a way, it is. She sucks you with purpose, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you deeper. Her hands rest on your thighs, steadying herself as her head bobs, the slick sounds of her mouth filling the room.

“Fuck, Mina,” you groan, gripping the back of her head, your fingers tangling in her hair. “You love this, don’t you? My good little slut.”

She moans around you, her eyes fluttering shut as she takes you to the back of her throat. It’s every morning now. You sip your coffee while she sucks you off, her mouth working you until your grip tightens, and you thrust into her mouth. When you finally cum, she swallows every drop, her tongue sweeping over your cock before she sits back on her heels, wiping her mouth.

“Thank you, boss,” she says sweetly, standing and smoothing her skirt like nothing happened.

And if she ever forgets to call you boss? You remind her.

One day, she slips, murmuring a soft, “Sorry,” instead of “Sorry, boss.” The slap is sharp and deliberate, your palm cracking against her face. She gasps, her body jolting slightly, but when she looks back at you, there’s nothing but arousal in her eyes.

“What was that?” you ask, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at you.

“Sorry, boss,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

You smirk, brushing her hair out of her face. “That’s better.”

There’s the time you decide to train her ass, a test of how far she’s willing to go for you. You order her to bend over the desk, lifting her skirt and sliding a small plug into her tight hole. She gasps, her nails digging into the wood, but she doesn’t complain.

“You’re going to wear this all day,” you tell her, smoothing her skirt back down. “And if you’re good, I’ll take it out myself.”

She obeys, spending the entire shift with the plug buried inside her. You watch her squirm every time she sits down, the faintest wince crossing her face when she shifts in her chair. But she doesn’t complain.

When you finally call her into your office, she’s already trembling with anticipation. You bend her over the desk again, pulling her panties down and sliding the plug out slowly.

“You’ve been good today,” you murmur, positioning yourself behind her. “Now let me reward you.”

You fuck her ass slowly at first, savoring the way she clenches around you, the way she gasps and moans with every thrust. But it doesn’t take long before you’re pounding into her, your hands gripping her hips as you bury yourself deep. She screams your name, her nails scratching the surface of your desk, and when you finally cum, you watch as it leaks out of her used hole, dripping onto her thighs.

Another time, you’re both restless. You sit back in your chair, stroking yourself lazily as Mina perches on the desk, her legs spread, her fingers working her pussy.

“Look at you,” you mutter, your eyes fixed on her. “So fucking wet. You love being my little slut, don’t you?”

“Yes, boss,” she moans, her back arching as she rubs her clit faster.

When you’re both close, you tell her to get on her knees. She obeys immediately, unbuttoning her blouse and letting it hang open, exposing her small, perky tits. You stand, stroking yourself over her chest, your cock glistening with pre-cum.

“Keep still,” you command, your voice rough.

She nods, her lips parted as she watches you. When you finally cum, it’s all over her tits, thick ropes of it painting her skin. She moans softly, running her fingers through it, her eyes locked on yours.

“Good girl,” you murmur, brushing her hair out of her face.

Mina smiles up at you, her lips curving into that familiar, submissive grin that you’ve come to crave. She’s yours now—completely, unapologetically. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

The hallway is quiet, almost eerie, as you step out of your office. It’s late, the kind of late where even the overachievers have gone home. Mina left hours ago, heading home to get ready. A car is scheduled to pick her up and bring her to your place. Just the thought of seeing her tonight—her hair down, her slim body in something tight and teasing—makes you quicken your pace.

You’re halfway to the elevator when you hear the familiar click of heels behind you. You glance back and see Joy walking toward you, her bag slung over her shoulder, her stride as graceful as ever.

It’s been a while since you’ve had a proper conversation with her. She looks the same—polished and confident—but there’s something in her expression, a faint tension around her eyes, that you don’t remember being there before.

“Joy,” you greet her, pausing to let her catch up. “I was missing your pretty little face. How’s the new position treating you?”

She gives you a polite smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Fine,” she says, her tone clipped.

You frown slightly. “Fine?”

She hesitates, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “It’s… complicated,” she says finally.

You stop walking, turning to face her fully. “Complicated how? Is someone giving you trouble?”

Joy exhales sharply, glancing away. For a moment, you think she’s going to brush it off, but then she looks back at you, her expression guarded. “It’s the rumors,” she says quietly. “The ones about us.”

Your jaw tightens. You knew the whispers were going to happen, but you thought they would fade over time, with the new distance established between you and Joy.

“They don’t have proof,” you say.

“Proof doesn’t matter,” she replies, her tone sharper now. “They think I’m only in this position because the boss fucked me. And no one takes me seriously because of it. Half of them ignore me, the other half treat me like I’m disposable. It’s exhausting.”

You knew this move would be complicated for her, but hearing it spelled out like this—knowing that the shit people are saying about her has roots in truth—it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

“Joy, I didn’t—” you start, but she cuts you off with a shake of her head.

“It’s not just you,” she says, softening a little. “It’s the whole culture around here. Women like me don’t get to just… exist in positions of power without people assuming we fucked our way there. When I got involved with you, I didn't plan on making any big leaps in this company. I wasn't being driven by interest, you know that. And it's funny that they were the ones who put me in this position… At this point, I think being fired would have been better.”

“Still,” you say, guilt creeping in, “I didn’t want it to be like this for you. If there’s anything I can do—”

She raises a hand, cutting you off again. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. I always do.”

There’s a pause, heavy with unspoken words, before Joy changes the subject, her tone deliberately lighter. “What about your new secretary? Mina, right? How’s she doing?”

“She’s good,” you say, nodding. “Really good, actually.”

Joy raises an eyebrow, her smirk faint but unmistakable. “Really? She doesn’t seem like the type who’d… you know… submit to the role.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Yeah. But maybe that’s why I like her.”

Joy’s smirk grows, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You really like her, huh? So, how’s she in bed? Better than me?”

You laugh, a little caught off guard by her bluntness. “She’s… amazing,” you admit, leaning in slightly. “As good as you were. Maybe even better.”

Joy laughs, the sound warm but tinged with something you can’t quite place. “You really went and hired yourself a sexdoll,” she says, shaking her head.

You shrug, smirking. “I won’t deny it.”

Her laugh fades, and her expression grows more serious. “Just be careful,” she says. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, and people are watching you. Everyone here knows she was the woman you took to that gala. And now she's suddenly here as your secretary, it's a little suspicious. No, actually, it's very suspicious. If you’re not discreet, it’s going to come back to bite you. What happened to me could happen to her.”

The warning lingers in the air, and you know she’s right. Things at the company have been tense lately. The other big names—investors, board members, even senior management—have been pushing back on you more than usual, challenging your ideas, undermining your authority. The software project you’ve poured your energy into has been warped by sudden adjustments, political interests, and compromises you never wanted to make.

For the first time in years, you feel like you’re losing control.

“Thanks for the advice,” you say finally, your tone dry but not ungrateful.

Joy nods, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she steps toward the elevator. “Take care, boss,” she says over her shoulder, her voice laced with just enough irony to make you smile.

“Goodnight, Joy,” you call after her, watching as she disappears into the elevator.

As you head to the parking garage, her words stick with you. Be careful. Be discreet. You think about Mina—her laugh, her smile, the way she looked kneeling in front of you earlier—and wonder if you’re in too deep already.

But the thought of giving her up doesn’t even cross your mind. Not for a second.

—

The dining room is cavernous, a long expanse of polished wood and shining glass. The chandelier overhead casts a warm glow, but the room still feels cold, the vast space swallowing up any sense of intimacy. At the far end of the table, it’s just you and Mina. She’s sitting quietly, her pink dress soft against her skin, matching the delicate pink collar resting at her collarbone. Her hair falls in loose waves, framing her face, and she looks up every so often to glance at you before returning to her meal.

The silence between you stretches, not quite uncomfortable but thick enough to notice. The scrape of your fork against the plate echoes in the room, and for a while, it feels like that’s the only sound.

Then, without warning, you cut through the quiet.

“You’re the only good thing happening in my life right now,” you say, your voice steady but quiet.

Mina’s head lifts, her dark eyes meeting yours across the table. For a moment, she looks surprised, but then her lips curve into a soft smile. “I’m flattered by that,” she says, her voice equally soft.

You set your fork down, leaning back slightly in your chair. “I mean it,” you continue, your gaze unwavering. “These past few months… things have been a mess. The company, the board, all these people pushing me, pulling me. It’s like I’m losing control of the one thing I thought I had a handle on. But then you… you’re here, and for once, something feels right.”

Mina’s smile deepens, her cheeks flushing faintly. “I didn’t expect that,” she says after a pause. “Especially not from you.”

You exhale, glancing down at your plate before looking back up at her. “I was hurt when you left, Mina. When you just… disappeared like that.”

Her smile fades slightly, and she lowers her gaze. “That wasn’t my intention,” she says softly.

A silence falls between you again, this one heavier, tinged with the weight of everything unsaid. Mina fidgets slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of her plate.

“I didn’t think you’d want me back,” she says suddenly, breaking the quiet. Her voice is hesitant, careful, like she’s testing the waters. “After what happened, I thought… well, that you’d move on.”

You shake your head, leaning forward now, your elbows resting on the table. “I get it,” you say simply. “Why you left. Why you thought you had to. It’s not like your reasons didn’t make sense.”

She looks up at you, and for a moment, you see something flicker in her eyes—surprise, gratitude, something warmer. “You’re the first person to ever say that,” she murmurs.

You’re not sure how to respond. Finally, you let out a quiet laugh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t even remember the last time I opened up like this to someone,” you admit, glancing around the room.

Your eyes land on the massive chandelier, the ornate decor, the sheer emptiness of the space. “This place has always felt empty,” you say, gesturing vaguely at the room. “Even with the parties, the people, the noise. It’s like… I don’t know. I built something, but it doesn’t feel like it belongs to me.”

You turn back to her, your gaze softer now. “But now… it feels a little less empty.”

Mina chuckles, the sound light but genuine, and it warms the cold edges of the room. “For a ruthless millionaire CEO,” she teases, “you’re pretty cute.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “That’s your fault,” you reply.

“Mine?” she asks, tilting her head, her smile playful.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “You come in here, looking like that, with that pink dress and that smile, and suddenly I’m a fucking open book.”

Mina laughs softly, her eyes sparkling as she looks at you. “Maybe you needed someone to read it.”

For a moment, the room doesn’t feel so big, so hollow. It feels warmer, smaller, like the space between you and Mina is all that matters. The food on the table grows colder, forgotten, as the conversation shifts to something lighter—stories, jokes and little glimpses into each other’s lives.

Tonight the mansion doesn't seem so empty after all.

—

You pace the hallway, phone pressed to your ear, your hand gripping it tightly enough to crack. The voice on the other end drones on, and you’re barely holding back the urge to snap.

“I’m telling you, this is a terrible idea,” you say, trying to keep your tone measured, though irritation seeps through. “Relocating the software development to another project? One tied to the government? You realize how much that’ll complicate everything, don’t you?”

The voice responds, and your jaw tightens further. “Yes, I get the supposed benefits,” you cut in, your words sharp. “‘Forming alliances,’ ‘building national interest’—all of that sounds great on paper. But it’s not what we’re building. This isn’t about politics or consolidating power. This is about the tech. About the future of the fucking industry.”

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a placating response that only makes you angrier.

“No, I don’t agree with the direction this is heading,” you say firmly. “We had a meeting with the car brand owners last week. They’re on board with what we pitched. Changing the focus now isn’t just reckless—it’s fucking insulting.”

The voice keeps talking, suggesting another meeting to iron things out, and you force yourself to take a deep breath. “Fine,” you bite out. “Schedule the meeting. But don’t expect me to sit back and watch this project get gutted for the sake of optics.”

You hang up before they can say anything else, your frustration simmering just below the surface. It feels like the walls are closing in lately, your authority being chipped away piece by piece. Everyone thinks they know better, thinks they can twist your vision to suit their agendas.

You exhale hard, running a hand through your hair as you walk toward your room. You’re still stewing in irritation as you push the door open, but the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks.

Mina stands near your dresser, her back to you, her fingers lightly brushing over some of the items there. She’s already taken off the pink dress, leaving her in matching pink lingerie that clings to her slim frame like it was made for her. The pink collar around her neck—soft and delicate—catches the light, completing the vision.

For a moment, you just stare, your irritation fading as your eyes trace the curves of her body. She looks unreal, something out of a dream, her small, perky breasts barely hidden by the lace of her bra, her long legs leading down to those perfectly arched heels she always wears.

You close the door quietly, stepping closer. “Mina,” you say softly.

She jumps slightly, startled, turning to look at you. Her cheeks flush when she sees you staring, but she doesn’t move, her hands dropping to her sides.

“You look beautiful,” you murmur, stepping behind her and wrapping your arms around her waist. You kiss her shoulder, your lips lingering against her warm skin.

“Thank you,” she says shyly. “I… I like your room.”

You chuckle lightly, glancing around at the sleek, modern space—floor-to-ceiling windows, dark wood, and minimalist furniture that cost more than some people’s cars. “It’s no big deal,” you say, though you know damn well it is.

She shakes her head slightly, smiling. “No, it’s… amazing. Like you.”

Your hands tighten on her waist, and you kiss her neck, drawing a soft sigh from her lips. “You’re the amazing one,” you say against her skin.

She turns slightly, looking up at you. “Is everything okay?”

You hesitate, the earlier frustration flickering back to life for a moment. “No,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “But I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

She nods, her expression soft with understanding. “Okay.”

You take her hand, leading her to the center of the room. When you reach the bed, you open one of the drawers, pulling out a length of smooth, dark rope.

“Are you ready?” you ask, your tone low and steady.

“Yes,” she replies, her voice trembling slightly but full of trust.

“Good,” you say, setting the rope on the bed. “Take off your panties.”

First, she takes off her heels, then she moves without hesitation, her hands hooking into the waistband of her panties and sliding them down her legs. She steps out of them carefully, then stands there, exposed, her hands clasped in front of her.

You pick up the rope, stepping behind her again. Gently, but firmly, you guide her hands behind her back, binding her wrists with practiced ease. The rope is snug but not tight, wrapping around her slim wrists in neat, secure knots.

“You look perfect like this,” you murmur, running a hand down her side.

She shivers under your touch, her breathing quickening as you move to the drawer again, pulling out a small vibrator. You kneel in front of her, the sight of her bare pussy inches from your face making your cock twitch. You press the tip of the vibrator against her entrance, teasing her, and she gasps softly, her hips shifting instinctively. then slowly you push it deep inside her until it is firmly lodged in her tight pussy.

“On your knees,” you command, standing and stepping back.

She sinks to the floor gracefully, her bound hands resting against the curve of her back, her dark eyes gazing up at you. You start unbuttoning your shirt, slowly, your eyes never leaving hers.

“Lately,” you say, your tone conversational but tinged with bitterness, “my orders and decisions have been questioned. At work. Everyone thinks they know better than me.”

Mina’s lips part slightly, her gaze flicking over your chest as you shrug off the shirt.

“I hope you don’t plan on doing that,” you add, unbuckling your belt with a sharp clink of metal.

Her voice is soft but steady. “No, sir. I’ll do whatever you tell me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

You smirk, tossing the belt aside. “Good girl,” you murmur, unzipping your pants and letting them fall to the floor. You're not wearing any underwear.

Her eyes widen slightly when you step closer, her gaze dropping to the hard, thick length of your cock. She licks her lips unconsciously, and the sight of her, bound and kneeling, sends a jolt of heat straight through you.

“You’re fucking perfect,” you mutter, reaching down to stroke her cheek.

She’s the picture of surrender—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and a gaze that flickers between nervousness and pure, unfiltered lust.

You take a step closer, your cock brushing against her face. Mina doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans into it slightly, her lips parting as a soft sigh escapes her.

“Stay still,” you murmur, your voice low and steady.

She nods faintly, her breath warm against your skin. Slowly, you drag your cock across her cheek, letting the weight of it rest there for a moment. The contrast of your hard flesh against her soft skin makes your pulse quicken.

“You feel that?” you ask, your tone conversational but commanding.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“Good.” You run your cock along her jawline, then back to her lips, watching as they part instinctively, a faint sheen of spit forming as she breathes heavily.

Her cheeks are flushed, her dark eyes darting up to meet yours. You see the hunger there, the submission, the way she’s completely at your mercy.

“Things are changing,” you say, your voice soft but deliberate. “I’m about to do something I should’ve done a long time ago. I didn’t have the right reason. Or maybe I didn’t have the right person.”

You let the head of your cock rest against her lips for a moment, watching the way she shivers.

“But now I do,” you continue, dragging it across her cheek again, slower this time. “I think I need this. I need someone who listens. Someone who understands me. Someone like you.”

Mina leans into the touch, her lips pressing soft kisses against the side of your cock. Her voice is quiet but sincere when she speaks. “You understand me too,” she says, her words muffled by your skin. “No one’s ever made me feel the way you do. When I’m with you, I feel… surrendered. Like I can let go.”

Her confession is soft, hesitant, but you can hear the weight of it.

“And that scared you,” you say, your tone sharpening slightly. “That’s why you ran.”

She nods, still kissing your cock, her lips trailing along the shaft. “I didn’t know what to do,” she whispers. “I’d never felt like this before. But I’m not scared now.”

You tilt her chin up slightly, making her look at you. “Good,” you murmur. “You don’t need to be scared. Not with me.”

She nods again, her lips brushing against you as she speaks. “I trust you. That’s why I want you to ruin me tonight.”

Her words send a surge of heat straight through you, your cock twitching against her lips.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stepping back just enough to grab the vibrator control.

You flick it on, starting on the lowest setting, and she gasps softly, her thighs trembling as the soft hum fills the air.

“There,” you say, your voice low and teasing. “Something to keep you focused.”

Mina whimpers, her hips shifting slightly, but she stays still, her eyes locked on yours.

“Now,” you command, stepping closer, letting your cock rest against her lips again. “Suck.”

She obeys immediately, her lips parting as she takes the head of your cock into her mouth. Her tongue flicks out, swirling around the tip, her movements slow and deliberate. The wet heat of her mouth makes you groan softly, your hand moving to the back of her head.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice thick with arousal. “Just like that.”

She takes you deeper, her tongue pressing against the underside of your cock as her lips slide down the shaft.

“Fuck, Mina,” you groan, your hand tightening in her hair. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

She moans around your cock, the sound vibrating through you, sending a jolt straight to your core. Her pace quickens slightly, her head bobbing as she works her mouth over you, her tongue teasing every sensitive spot.

Your free hand moves to her cheek, your thumb brushing over the flushed skin as you watch her. The way she looks up at you, her lips stretched around your cock, her eyes glassy with lust, is enough to drive you mad.

“Take it deeper,” you command, your voice rough.

She does, her lips sliding further down, the head of your cock pressing against the back of her throat. She gags slightly but doesn’t pull back, her nails digging into her bound wrists as she steadies herself.

“That’s it,” you growl, your hand tightening in her hair. “Take it all, Mina. Be my good girl.”

She moans again, her throat tightening around you as she swallows, the wet sounds filling the room. You can feel her thighs trembling from the vibrator, but she doesn’t stop, her mouth working you with a determination that leaves you breathless.

The sound of the vibrator hums softly between you, its rhythm pulsing in sync with the wet, obscene sounds of Mina’s mouth as she works your cock. She’s kneeling, completely at your mercy, her hands bound behind her back, her head bobbing up and down with a messy, desperate determination. Her lips stretch around your thick shaft, spit dripping down her chin, mixing with her moans as she chokes and gags on you.

You tighten your grip on the vibrator, clicking it up a notch. The sound shifts slightly, sharper, more insistent, and Mina’s body jolts. Her thighs quiver, her pussy clenching around the toy as the stronger vibrations hit her, and she lets out a muffled moan around your cock.

“Feel that?” you murmur. “That’s for you, baby. To remind you who you belong to.”

Mina nods weakly, her eyes watering as she tries to take more of you, her throat constricting as she gags again. The heat of her mouth, the tightness of her lips, the way she lets you use her—it’s perfect. She’s perfect.

“Fuck, Mina,” you growl, tilting your head back for a second before looking down at her again. “Look at you. Such a messy little thing. You’re addicted, aren’t you? Addicted to my cock.”

She whimpers, her moans vibrating against you as her tongue swirls around your shaft. You grab her hair, pulling her back slightly so the head of your cock rests on her tongue, glistening and slick. She looks up at you with glassy, lust-blown eyes, her lips swollen and dripping with spit.

“Say it,” you command, your tone sharp.

“I’m addicted,” she gasps, her voice hoarse from choking. “I’m addicted to your cock, boss. Please, let me have it. Let me taste all of it.”

You chuckle darkly, sliding your cock back into her mouth. “Good girl,” you murmur, thrusting shallowly into her. “Take it. Take every inch like the good little fuckdoll you are.”

You start moving your hips, slow at first but quickly picking up speed, fucking her mouth with deliberate, controlled thrusts. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t pull away—instead, she leans into it, her throat relaxing as much as it can to take you deeper. The slick, wet sounds of her sloppy blowjob echo through the room, mixing with the sharper hum of the vibrator still buried in her pussy.

You glance down, watching the way her chest heaves as she struggles to keep up, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth and dripping onto her knees. She’s completely wrecked, completely yours, and the sight makes your cock throb with barely-contained need.

“You like this, don’t you?” you growl, pulling her head down further so your cock presses against the back of her throat. “Being used like this. Being my little toy.”

Mina moans around you, her eyes rolling back slightly as the vibrations between her legs push her closer to the edge. Her body trembles, her bound hands flexing uselessly behind her as she gives herself over to you completely.

“That’s right,” you mutter, watching her choke on your cock. “You don’t need to think. Just open that pretty little mouth and let me use you.”

You thrust harder, holding her head in place as you fuck her mouth with abandon. She gags again, tears streaming down her cheeks, she moans louder, her body shivering as the vibrator sends wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her.

“You’re such a slut for me,” you growl, your voice tight with control as you keep moving. “My perfect little whore. You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”

Mina nods frantically, her moans growing more desperate as she gags again, your cock sliding deeper into her throat. Her whole body is shaking now, the vibrations pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“You don’t get to cum,” you growl, pulling her head back slightly so she can breathe, her lips still wrapped around the tip of your cock. “Not until I say so.”

She whimpers, nodding weakly. Your cock glistens, coated in a mix of her spit and your pre-cum, while Mina kneels before you, completely wrecked. Her face is a mess—drool dripping from her chin, streaks of it running down her chest, pooling at the curve of her collarbones. Her lips are red and swollen, parted as she gasps for air, and her dark eyes are glossy, wide, and brimming with need.

You pull the vibrator from between her legs and click it off, the sudden silence deafening in the room. Mina trembles, her bound hands flexing behind her back as she tries to steady herself.

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask, your voice low but firm, your tone sharp enough to demand an honest answer.

Her head shakes frantically, her words spilling out in broken, desperate gasps. “No, please, don’t stop. Don’t stop. I need more.”

Your cock twitches at her plea. This is what you love about her—that insatiable drive, the way she pushes herself, the way she matches your own hunger to ruin and be ruined. She’s perfect, absolutely fucking perfect.

A smirk tugs at your lips as you click the vibrator back on—not at the soft hum of earlier, but at full blast. The sound cuts through the room like a sharp blade, and Mina jerks, her body trembling violently as the powerful vibrations slam into her.

She moans loudly, her thighs shaking as she struggles to keep herself steady, but you don’t give her the chance to adjust. You grip your cock and guide it back to her mouth, sliding past her parted lips before she can even try to take control.

“I’ll handle this,” you growl, your voice thick with dominance.

Mina whimpers around you, the vibrations pushing her closer to the edge as she struggles to keep up. Her throat tightens instinctively, the sound of her gagging mixed with the muffled moans spilling from her. She’s a fucking mess—her body trembling, drool pouring from her lips, soaking your cock as she tries to keep up with your relentless thrusts.

“That’s it,” you growl, your hands gripping her hair tightly. “Let me use that pretty mouth. You love it, don’t you? Being treated like this.”

She moans her agreement, the sound muffled but desperate, and her throat convulses around you as you push deeper. Her whole body is shaking now, writhing with the overwhelming force of the vibrator as it pulls her closer and closer to the edge.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” you mutter, your hips slamming forward as you fuck her mouth harder. “Look at you, trembling like this, gagging on my cock. You want me to ruin you, don’t you?”

Mina’s muffled moans rise in pitch, her body jerking uncontrollably as her orgasm starts to crest.

Just as her thighs clench and her muffled cries grow louder, you pull out of her mouth and click the vibrator off again.

Her head snaps up, her lips glossy and swollen as she gasps for air. Her chest heaves, her body trembling, and she moans loudly, frustration dripping from her voice. “Please, I—oh god—I was so close! I was going to cum, it’s so strong—please let me!”

You shake your head, smirking as you cup her jaw and make her look at you. “You don’t get to cum yet,” you say firmly. “Not until I say so.”

She whimpers, her entire body quivering with pent-up need, but she doesn’t argue. You release her jaw, stepping back. “Get up,” you command.

Mina obeys, her legs shaking as she rises to her feet. Her eyes are glossy with frustration, her body a wreck of sweat, spit, and arousal, but she doesn’t hesitate.

You pull the vibrator from her pussy, the toy dripping wet, her slick coating your fingers and her inner thighs. You look at her, smirking at the state she’s in. “You’re soaked,” you say, your voice filled with amusement.

She doesn’t respond, her lips trembling as she waits for your next order.

“Go to the bed,” you command, your tone sharp.

She stumbles slightly as she turns, her legs unsteady, and you follow behind her as she moves to the bed. When she reaches it, you place a hand on her shoulder and push her down. She falls forward, landing on her stomach, her bound hands pressed against the small of her back.

“Stick your ass out,” you growl, stepping closer.

Mina obeys, lifting her hips off the mattress, her face pressed into the sheets as her ass arches into the air. She’s completely exposed to you, her pussy glistening, her thighs trembling with the effort to hold herself steady.

You step closer, your cock throbbing as you grip her hips, positioning yourself behind her. “You look so fucking good like this,” you mutter, dragging the tip of your cock through her folds. “Completely ruined. Completely mine.”

You waste no time. As soon as your cock lines up with her soaked, swollen entrance, you thrust into her hard, burying yourself to the hilt in one brutal motion. Mina screams out, the sound muffled by the mattress as her pussy clenches tight around you, still hypersensitive from the vibrator. The heat, the slickness—it’s almost overwhelming, and for a second, you have to remind yourself not to lose control too soon.

“Fuck,” you growl, gripping her bound wrists tightly. “You’re so fucking tight, Mina. So wet for me.”

Her moans come fast and loud, her voice trembling as she presses her cheek into the sheets, her body writhing beneath you. “It’s all for you,” she gasps, her words barely coherent. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” you snarl, pulling back just enough to slam into her again, harder this time.

Your pace is relentless, every thrust driving into her soaked, pink pussy with an unforgiving rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with her breathless moans and the creak of the bed.

Your grip on her wrists tightens as you use them to pull her back onto your cock, forcing her to take every inch. Mina cries out, her body arching as the force of your movements sends shivers down her spine.

“You like this, don’t you?” you growl, leaning forward slightly, your chest grazing her back. “Being fucked like this. Rough. Hard.”

“Yes!” she screams, her voice muffled by the sheets. “I love it. I love how rough you are with me.”

Her confession only spurs you on, your hips slamming into her harder, your cock hitting her deepest spots with every thrust. You release one of her wrists, your now-free hand sliding down her back to grab her ass.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” you mutter, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. “Taking me like this. So desperate to be ruined.”

She moans in response, her body trembling as your fingers dig into her skin. Then, without warning, you raise your hand and bring it down on her ass with a sharp slap.

Mina cries out, her voice high and broken, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she arches her back further, presenting herself to you like the obedient little slut she is.

“That’s what I thought,” you mutter, spanking her again, harder this time.

The sound echoes through the room, sharp and satisfying, and you watch as a red handprint blooms across her pale skin. You don’t give her time to recover before you spank her again, and again, alternating between cheeks until both are flushed and burning.

“You like that?” you growl, your hand coming down on her ass once more. “You like being punished, don’t you?”

“Yes!” she moans, her voice trembling with desperation. “I love it. Please, more. Don’t stop.”

Her pussy tightens around you, her walls clenching rhythmically as her pleasure builds. She’s close, so close, and you can feel it in the way her body shudders with every thrust.

“Look at you,” you mutter, gripping her ass tightly, your fingers digging into the soft, reddened skin. “A fucking mess. My mess. You’re not cumming yet, though. Not until I say so.”

Mina whimpers, her legs trembling as you drive into her harder, deeper, your cock stretching her perfectly. “Please,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “Please, I’m so close. I can’t take it.”

“You’ll take whatever I give you,” you snap, spanking her again for good measure. “Now shut up and keep moaning for me.”

Her cries grow louder, her voice hoarse from screaming, but she doesn’t argue. She just takes it, her body shaking with need, her pussy dripping onto your cock as you pound into her without mercy.

Your hands grip Mina's burning, reddened ass, the color matching the flushed glow of her skin. She’s a mess, writhing beneath you as you fuck her relentlessly, every sharp thrust dragging high-pitched moans and gasps from her throat. Her pussy clings to you, wet and tight, taking you so perfectly that it’s driving you insane.

“Oh god,” she sobs into the mattress, her voice cracking. “Your cock… it’s so fucking thick. I can feel everything. You fuck me so good—so fucking good. Please, don’t stop.”

Her words only push you further, your nails digging into the raw heat of her ass. You squeeze the soft flesh hard, watching it bounce each time your hips slam into her. The sight, the sounds, the feel of her—all of it has you teetering on the edge of control.

“You’re addicted, aren’t you?” you growl, your voice low and dangerous. “Addicted to my cock, to the way I ruin you.”

“Yes!” she screams, her body arching beneath you. “I’m addicted! I fucking love it! I love the way you fuck me!”

Her cries are music to your ears, her submission feeding your hunger. You thrust harder, your pace brutal and unforgiving, and Mina whimpers, her head turning to the side as tears of pleasure streak down her flushed cheeks.

“Good girl,” you snarl, delivering one final, violent thrust before pulling out. Mina lets out a desperate gasp at the loss, but before she can say anything, you grab her by the hips and flip her onto her back.

Her bound hands press awkwardly into the small of her back, but she doesn’t complain. Her legs fall open instinctively, her swollen, glistening pussy on full display, her thighs trembling from the pounding you’ve already given her.

You climb onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs. She looks up at you with glassy, tear-filled eyes, her lips parted, her entire body trembling. She’s completely wrecked, a vision of perfect submission.

“You look so fucking ruined,” you mutter, gripping her thighs as you press your cock back into her soaked heat.

Mina cries out as you fill her again, her body arching as your cock stretches her tight pussy. You waste no time, slamming into her with the same ferocity as before, her bound hands shifting awkwardly beneath her but neither of you caring.

“Look at me,” you command, your voice sharp.

Her eyes snap to yours, wide and desperate, her lips trembling as she moans incoherently.

“Look at me as you cum,” you growl, leaning over her, your hands gripping her waist tightly as you fuck her harder, deeper. “I want to see your fucking face when you fall apart.”

Mina’s face is a mess, streaked with tears and drool, her lips swollen and glossy. Her moans grow louder, more broken, her words slurring as the pleasure overwhelms her.

“You,” she gasps suddenly, her voice trembling as she tries to speak. “You're gonna—”

You lean over her, cutting her off with a sharp slap across the face. The sound echoes through the room, her head snapping to the side.

“Call me boss,” you snarl, your hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look at you.

“I’m sorry,” she moans, her voice high and shaky. “I’m sorry, boss.”

“Good girl,” you growl, your lips curling into a wicked smirk. “Now keep taking it.”

Your thrusts grow faster, harder, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. Mina’s cries reach a fever pitch, her bound hands twitching uselessly behind her as her body trembles violently.

“I’m close,” she sobs, her voice breaking. “Boss, I’m so fucking close. Please, let me cum.”

“Not yet,” you snap, your grip on her waist tightening as you slam into her with brutal precision. “Not until I say so.”

Her face contorts with pleasure, her mouth open in a silent scream as her entire body tenses beneath you. She’s right on the edge, teetering dangerously close to release, but you’re not letting her go yet.

Your thrusts are relentless, pounding into Mina with all the force you can muster. Her bound hands dig into the mattress beneath her, her face turned to the side, tears streaking her cheeks as her cries fill the room. She’s a vision of complete surrender—her trembling body stretched beneath you, her pussy soaking wet and clenching tight around your cock, her flushed skin glistening with sweat.

As you maintain your brutal rhythm, your free hand moves down between her legs, your fingers finding her swollen, throbbing clit. The moment you touch her, Mina jerks violently, her moan rising into a sharp, desperate wail.

“No, please,” she gasps, her voice breaking as she writhes beneath you. “I—I can’t. I’m too sensitive. I can’t take it—”

“You can take it,” you growl, cutting her off as you rub her clit with deliberate, teasing circles. “You’ll take everything I give you, Mina. You always do.”

She sobs, her body bucking against you as your fingers press harder, rolling her sensitive nub between them in perfect time with your deep, punishing thrusts. She’s completely at your mercy, unable to move, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations tearing through her.

“Look at you,” you mutter, your voice low and rough. “Writhing like this, begging me to stop, but your pussy’s clenching so fucking tight around me. You love this, don’t you? Being completely mine.”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice hoarse and desperate. “Yes, I love it. I love how you ruin me. Please—please, I’m so close. I can’t hold it—”

“Don’t,” you snap, your tone sharp and commanding. “Not until I tell you to.”

Mina’s head thrashes against the mattress, her cries growing louder as your fingers work her clit faster, your cock slamming into her with unrelenting force. Her body trembles violently, her thighs shaking as she teeters on the edge, her bound hands clawing uselessly at the sheets.

“Boss,” she sobs, tears streaming down her reddened eyes. “Please—please, let me cum. I’m begging you.”

You slow your thrusts just enough to lean down, your breath hot against her ear. “Cum for me,” you growl, your voice like a trigger pulling her apart.

The moment the words leave your mouth, Mina breaks.

Her body arches off the bed, her mouth falling open in a scream so loud it nearly echoes. Her pussy clenches hard around you, and then it happens—a sudden, powerful jet of liquid sprays from her, soaking the sheets beneath her.

“Fuck,” you groan, pulling your cock out just in time to watch the next jet shoot out, her thighs trembling as more streams of liquid gush from her.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your voice thick with awe as you rub her clit harder. “Keep going. Cum for me. Let it all out.”

Mina convulses beneath you, her body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. Her sobs mix with her moans, her face twisted in pure ecstasy as more jets of liquid spray from her, soaking the bed and your thighs.

You guide her through it, your fingers never leaving her clit, your voice a steady command in her ear. “That’s it,” you growl. “More. I want more.”

Her screams grow louder as her body obeys, her pussy releasing another powerful jet, soaking everything beneath her. She’s a mess—tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving, her entire body trembling as she squirts uncontrollably, completely at your mercy.

When her squirts finally slow, her body collapses onto the bed, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths. Her hands remain bound behind her, her face turned to the side, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She’s completely ruined, her thighs slick with wetness, the bed beneath her drenched.

You brush a strand of hair from her flushed face, leaning down to kiss her cheek softly. “You’re incredible,” you murmur, your voice softer now. “Absolutely perfect.”

Mina doesn’t respond, too wrecked to speak, but the faint, satisfied smile on her lips tells you everything you need to know.

You’re far from done with Mina. She might be lying there on the bed, ruined and panting, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm that just ripped through her—but she’s not finished.

You climb off the bed, ignoring her soft, ragged breaths, and pick up the vibrator from where it landed on the floor. It’s slick with her arousal, glistening in the dim light, and you turn it over in your hand as you glance back at her.

When you return to the bed, she looks up at you through hazy, tear-filled eyes, confusion flickering across her face. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice hoarse, her body twitching involuntarily.

You smirk, climbing onto the bed and pressing the vibrator against her sensitive, overstimulated pussy. “You’ll finish,” you murmur, your tone sharp and commanding, “when I’m done with you.”

Before she can protest, you flick the vibrator back on, setting it to its highest intensity. The sudden jolt of vibrations against her oversensitive clit makes her cry out, her back arching as her legs tremble violently.

“Wait—please, I can’t—” she gasps, but her words dissolve into a strangled moan as the relentless vibrations assault her already wrecked nerves.

“You can,” you say, your voice low and firm, pressing the vibrator deeper against her slick folds. “You will.”

Her cries are desperate, her body squirming beneath you as the toy pushes her to the brink again. But you’re not just here to watch her unravel—you’re here to take her completely.

You straddle her chest, your cock thick and heavy as it hovers just above her face. “Open your mouth,” you command, gripping the base and stroking it slowly.

Mina obeys immediately, her lips parting as her teary, lust-filled eyes meet yours. You guide your cock into her mouth, the warm, wet heat of her lips wrapping around you like they were made for this.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice thick with pleasure as she takes you in.

The combination of the vibrator and your cock is too much for her, her body trembling violently beneath you. Her moans vibrate against your cock as she sucks desperately, her tongue swirling around the shaft, her lips stretching to accommodate your size.

“That’s it,” you growl, your hand gripping her hair tightly. “Suck me like the good little slut you are.”

Mina moans in response, the sound muffled but filled with desperation. Her face contorts with pleasure and sensitivity as the vibrator continues its assault, her cries muffled by your cock sliding in and out of her mouth.

You thrust slowly at first, savoring the sight of her—her flushed cheeks, her teary eyes, her lips glistening with spit and pre-cum. But as your own pleasure builds, you start to lose control, your hips moving faster, your cock hitting the back of her throat with every thrust.

“You look so fucking perfect like this,” you mutter, watching her face contort with overstimulation as the vibrator continues its relentless work. “Sucking my cock while you’re falling apart. You’re mine, Mina. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”

She moans again, her cries muffled as her body shakes beneath you. You can feel her reaching her limit, her desperation palpable, and just as her tears start to spill freely down her cheeks, you pull your cock from her mouth.

Mina gasps for air, her chest heaving as she looks up at you with glassy, tear-streaked eyes. But even now, with her face red and soaked with tears, she’s still begging.

“Please,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “Please, cum for me. I need it. I need you to cum.”

Her plea sends a jolt of heat straight through you, and you stroke yourself harder, faster, your cock slick and throbbing as you hover over her ruined face.

“Fuck,” you groan, your breath hitching as you reach your peak.

The first thick rope of cum hits her cheek, warm and sticky against her flushed skin. Mina moans loudly, her lips parting as her tongue flicks out instinctively, trying to catch the next spurt. You oblige, aiming for her mouth, her lips, her chin, painting her with each powerful burst.

“God, Mina,” you mutter, your voice low and raw as you watch your cum drip down her face, mixing with her tears and spit. “You look so fucking good like this. Completely fucking ruined.”

She moans softly, her body still trembling as the vibrator finally pushes her over the edge again. Another sharp cry escapes her lips as her hips buck uncontrollably, her legs shaking as she rides out the intense waves of pleasure.

You reach down, finally flicking the vibrator off, and Mina collapses against the bed, her chest heaving, her face still glistening with cum.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and filled with exhaustion.

You lean down, brushing a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead as you admire her. She’s a mess—tear-streaked, cum-covered, and completely wrecked. And she’s perfect.

—

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, the blue light from the screen casting a faint glow over the room. The meeting’s scheduled. The weight of it settles on your shoulders like a slow, creeping ache. You toss the phone onto the bed, letting it bounce to the side, and drop your head into your hands.

The company, the decisions, the scrutiny—it’s like the walls are closing in, and you’re stuck, watching as everything you built gets twisted into something you barely recognize.

You don’t hear her at first, the soft padding of her bare feet on the carpet. It’s not until her arms wrap around you from behind, her warmth pressing into your back, that you lift your head.

“Hey,” Mina says softly, her voice gentle. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, leaning into her touch. “Not really.”

She steps around you, her delicate hands sliding to your shoulders as she kneels in front of you. She looks incredible, even now, wearing the pink nightgown you bought for her. The soft fabric clings to her slim frame, the lace teasing at the swell of her breasts. The matching pink collar rests against her collarbone, the glow of it almost distracting enough to make you forget the storm in your head.

But not quite.

Her dark eyes search yours, full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

You rub the back of your neck, exhaling slowly. “Everything feels… off. This business, this company—it’s not what it used to be. Priorities have shifted. People care more about playing politics than innovation. And I let it happen.”

She shakes her head, squeezing your shoulders gently. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” you say firmly. “I made bad calls along the way. I compromised when I shouldn’t have. Now we’re here, and it feels like I can’t fix it.”

Mina frowns, her hands sliding up to cup your face. “You built this empire practically from nothing,” she says, her voice steady but soft. “You took an idea and turned it into something the entire world knows about. That’s not nothing.”

You lean into her touch, your jaw tightening as her words sink in. “Do you really think I can do it again?”

She nods without hesitation, her eyes shining with certainty. “I do. The more time I spend with you, the more I am impressed by your talent. Your mind, the way you think, the way you create—none of that’s gone. No one can take that away from you. You’re the reason this exists. And you can do it again, if that’s what you want.”

Her words stir something inside you, a small flicker of hope in the middle of all the noise. You reach up, gently taking her hand in yours, and press a kiss to her palm.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice quieter now. “For being here. For… everything.”

Mina smiles, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. “Always,” she says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You shift slightly, leaning forward to meet her gaze more closely. “How about you? How are you feeling?”

She laughs lightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Tired,” she admits, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You were a little hard on me today.”

A low chuckle escapes you, some of the weight lifting as you smirk at her. “I was, wasn’t I?” you say, your tone playful. “I can’t help it. Seeing you like that… so obedient, so submissive. It makes me lose my mind.”

Mina’s blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away. “It’s okay,” she says, her smile softening. “I like it. And I expect more of it.”

You grin, leaning closer until your forehead nearly brushes hers. “As long as you stay by my side, you’ll have all that and more,” you murmur.

Her breath catches slightly, her lips parting as your hand cups her cheek. You close the gap, your lips meeting hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. It’s softer than earlier, less frantic, but no less intense. There’s a tenderness to it, a quiet understanding passing between you as her hands slide up to rest on your chest.

When you finally pull back, you rest your forehead against hers, your voice low. “You’re everything, Mina. Don’t forget that.”

She smiles, her hands tightening slightly on your shirt. “I won’t,” she whispers. “And neither will you.”

For the first time all night, the chaos in your mind quiets, replaced by the steady presence of her. And in that moment, nothing else matters.

—

Two months of chaos. That’s what it took to pull yourself free from the machine you’d spent years building. Contracts to review, lawyers to meet with, and an endless stream of bureaucratic bullshit. Resignation letters, termination agreements, negotiations about what you could and couldn’t take with you. Every step was a battle, but you played it perfectly.

The car software—your brainchild, your vision—was never officially signed over or patented under the company’s name. That little loophole became your salvation. It gave you the leverage to walk out the door with your idea intact, no strings attached. And in the process, you secured the interest of three key players in the automotive industry, three brand owners who were already circling the idea like sharks in bloody water.

You’re at your desk, your laptop open as you finalize another email to your lawyers, ensuring every loose end is tied up. Your focus is sharp, but the tension lingers in your shoulders. The future’s uncertain, but it’s yours.

What you don’t expect is for the door to your office to fly open.

You flinch slightly, your head snapping up as an executive storms in, his face red with irritation. He doesn’t even knock.

“What the hell is this?” he demands, his voice sharp as he throws a folder onto your desk. “You’re taking the entire car software project with you? You’re gutting us for your new company?”

Your eyes narrow, your jaw tightening as you sit back in your chair. “First off,” you say coolly, “you’re in my office. Uninvited. Do you not know how to knock?”

He glares at you, but you don’t flinch.

“Second,” you continue, “everything I’m taking is mine. Legally. I created it, and your precious contracts never signed it away. So yeah, I’m taking what’s mine. Don’t like it? Take it up with my lawyers.”

The man’s hands ball into fists at his sides, but he doesn’t say another word. He knows he has nothing to stand on. With a final, furious glare, he turns on his heel and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

The room goes quiet, and you exhale, leaning back in your chair. Beneath your desk, Mina shifts slightly, her movement brushing against your thighs.

“He’s gone,” you say, glancing down.

Mina looks up at you, her cheeks flushed, her lips shiny. Your pants are pushed down around your thighs, and her small hands rest lightly on your legs as she kneels there, her body hidden from anyone who might’ve walked in.

“You should have locked the door,” you mutter, your tone half-annoyed, half-amused.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she pulls back just enough to say, “I’m sorry, boss. I forgot.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “It’s fine,” you say. “Just don’t forget next time.”

“Yes, boss,” she says softly, a teasing smile tugging at her lips before she leans back in, taking your cock into her mouth again.

The warm, wet heat of her mouth makes you groan softly, your hand resting lightly on the back of her head as she starts to move, her tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down the shaft.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice low. “Now, where was I?”

Mina hums softly around your cock, her eyes flicking up to meet yours as she sucks you with slow, deliberate movements.

You lean back slightly, your hand stroking her hair as you speak. “I’ve been talking to Joy,” you say casually. “She’s going to work for me at the new company.”

Mina pauses, pulling your cock from her mouth with a soft pop. “That’s great,” she says, her voice breathy but cheerful. “I like Joy.”

You smirk, brushing a thumb over her flushed cheek. “She’ll be good for this. She’s sharp, and she knows how I work.”

Mina nods, her smile widening slightly before she leans back in, taking you into her mouth again. Her pace quickens slightly, her hands resting on your thighs as her lips slide up and down your shaft, her tongue teasing the sensitive underside.

You groan, your fingers tightening in her hair as you guide her movements. “And you,” you murmur, looking down at her. “You’re going to stay by my side through all of this, aren’t you?”

Mina moans softly around your cock, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you. She doesn’t pull back this time, doesn’t speak—she just nods, her dark eyes locking onto yours as she sucks you with growing intensity.

“Good,” you mutter, your voice rough. “Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mina’s warm, wet mouth moves expertly over your cock, her tongue swirling around the head before sliding down your shaft. Her hands grip your thighs lightly, steadying herself as she works, her soft moans vibrating against your skin. You lean back in your chair, one hand resting on the desk, the other buried in her hair, guiding her rhythm.

“Deeper,” you mutter, tightening your grip on her hair. “Take it all, Mina.”

She hums softly, her lips stretching further as she pushes down, her throat tightening around you. A guttural groan escapes your lips as her gag reflex flutters slightly, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“That’s it, good girl,” you say, your voice thick with arousal. “God, you’ve gotten so good at this.”

Her dark eyes flick up to meet yours, glistening with tears from the effort, and the sight of her—completely submissive, completely yours—fuels you.

“Let’s talk plans,” you say, your tone shifting just slightly, though your voice is still rough. “Start small. The new company needs to earn trust first—no overreaching. I’ve already got three brands interested. They see the potential in the software, and that’s the hook. But we’ll grow slow, steady.”

Mina doesn’t stop, her head bobbing up and down as her lips glide over your cock, her spit slick and warm. You can barely focus on your own words, her mouth feels so fucking good.

“Joy will be a big help,” you continue, your grip tightening slightly in her hair as you guide her down further. “She knows how this industry works, and she’s sharp as hell. With her managing operations, I can focus on building relationships with the brands. The software’s going to change the market. They’ll see that soon enough.”

Mina pulls back slightly, her lips glistening as she catches her breath. “Joy’s smart,” she says softly, her voice hoarse but sincere. “She’ll do great.”

“You’ll keep your role too,” you say, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “You’ve learned so much already, Mina. You’ve picked it up faster than I expected. You’re doing an amazing job.”

Her lips curl into a small smile, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Thank you, boss,” she murmurs, her voice low. Then, without warning, she leans lower, her tongue flicking out to tease your balls.

“Fuck,” you groan, your head tilting back as her warm tongue licks a slow, deliberate path. She takes her time, her mouth soft and teasing, her hands still resting on your thighs.

“You really do know how to keep me happy,” you mutter, your voice strained as she sucks one of your balls into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it.

She hums softly in response, the vibration sending shivers through you.

“All the papers are talking about it,” you say, your words a little rushed now as you struggle to focus through the haze of pleasure. “This whole move—it’s bold, radical. People are calling it insane. But fuck, the adrenaline… it’s good. Keeps me sharp.”

Mina pulls back with a soft pop, her tongue flicking over her lips as she shifts back to your cock. She wraps her lips around the head, sucking softly, her tongue pressing against the sensitive underside.

You groan loudly, your hand tightening in her hair as your hips lift slightly, pushing deeper into her mouth. “Mina,” you mutter, your voice low and rough. “You’re so fucking good at this. Keep going. I’m almost there.”

She moans softly around your cock, the sound vibrating against you as she sucks harder, her rhythm quickening. Her dark eyes lock onto yours, filled with lust and submission.

“Don’t stop,” you growl, your grip firm as you guide her movements. “Fuck, I’m so close. Just keep doing what you’re doing, baby. You’re perfect.”

Mina’s pace quickens, her lips gliding over your cock with obscene precision. Every movement is deliberate, calculated, as if she’s determined to milk every ounce of pleasure from you. Her mouth is warm, wet, and relentless, her tongue teasing the sensitive underside with every deep, eager stroke.

“Fuck, Mina,” you groan, your head tilting back slightly as you grip her hair tighter.

Her moans vibrate around you, her hands joining the effort as she strokes the base of your cock in rhythm with her mouth. She’s messy, spit dripping down her chin, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks harder. The sound of her sucking is loud, lewd, and perfect, filling the room and mixing with your heavy breaths.

The pleasure is overwhelming, growing with every second, every flick of her tongue. She pulls back briefly, her lips red and glistening, her hand still stroking you as she looks up at you through her lashes.

“Cum for me,” she whispers, her voice breathy and thick with desire. “I want it in my mouth. Please, boss. Let me taste you.”

The way she asks—so full of need, so desperate—sends a surge of heat straight through you. Your cock twitches in her hand, and you groan, your fingers tightening in her hair.

“You want it?” you growl, your voice rough.

“Yes,” she breathes, her eyes locked onto yours. “Please. I need it.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, leaning back in and taking you into her mouth again, deeper this time, her throat relaxing as she swallows more of you. She moves faster, her head bobbing, her tongue swirling, her lips sealing around you with perfect pressure.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hips lifting slightly as the pleasure becomes unbearable. “Mina… I’m gonna—fuck, don’t stop.”

She moans around you, her hands gripping your thighs as she takes you even deeper, her pace frantic. The combination of her mouth, her hands, and her raw need drives you over the edge.

Your body tenses, a guttural moan ripping from your throat as you cum hard, spurts of hot cum flooding her mouth. Mina chokes slightly but doesn’t pull away, her throat working to swallow as much as she can.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your voice strained as you ride out your orgasm. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

You stay inside her mouth, your cock still throbbing as the last few spurts spill onto her tongue. Mina’s lips remain wrapped around you, her eyes half-lidded as she looks up at you, swallowing every drop.

You’re about to lean down to touch her when the door suddenly opens.

Your head snaps up, and there’s Joy, standing in the doorway, a folder in her hand. She pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your expression—the faint flush on your cheeks, the way you’re slouched in your chair, your hand still resting suspiciously on your desk.

“They’re calling you,” she says, her tone casual but laced with curiosity.

You clear your throat, straightening up as much as you can without giving anything away. “I’ll be there in a minute,” you reply, your voice steady despite the situation. “And maybe next time, knock before you come barging in.”

Joy raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Sorry about that,” she says, though her tone doesn’t sound sorry at all. She steps further into the room, glancing around. “Where’s Mina?”

Your jaw tightens, and you glance toward the desk briefly before looking back at her. “She’s… somewhere,” you say vaguely.

Joy’s smirk widens, and her gaze drops to the floor, lingering for a moment before she shakes her head. “Oh.. I get it,” she mutters under her breath, realizing exactly where Mina is.

She lifts a hand, waving dismissively as she backs toward the door. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you two alone. But hurry up. People are waiting.”

Just before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. “You’re killing it, by the way.”

The door clicks shut, and the room is silent again.

Beneath the desk, Mina pulls back slightly, her lips shining as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks up at you, her cheeks flushed, a playful smile on her face. “She’s right, you know,” she says softly.

You chuckle, reaching down to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah? Killing it, huh?”

She nods, leaning into your touch. “Always.”

You stroke her cheek gently, your thumb brushing over her warm, soft skin. “And you’re perfect,” you murmur.

Her smile widens, her eyes shining with warmth as she rests her head against your thigh, completely content.

—

It didn’t take long for the shift to happen. Two months after pulling yourself out of the corporate machine that had become a prison, you were already laying the groundwork for your comeback. The new company—a lean, hungry startup fueled by your vision and unrelenting drive—rose quickly, faster than even you had anticipated.

The car software, once just an idea others wanted to bury under politics and bureaucracy, became your flagship. A revelation in the market. Investors flocked to you like moths to a flame, and the deals you struck were smart, strategic. It wasn’t just about money; it was about power, control, showing everyone who dared doubt you that you were still here—and better than ever.

Your competitors? They felt it. Hard. Market shares plummeted, millions evaporated, and their weak attempts to counter your software only made your success more prominent. You’d created something they couldn’t match.

And through it all, the people who mattered most stuck by you. Joy, sharp as ever, was now more than just a former secretary or a trusted confidante—she was a critical piece of this machine, managing operations with an efficiency that made you wonder how you ever did without her.

A handful of employees from your old company came aboard too, loyal to the end, believing in you even when the others whispered doubts. They recognized what the world was starting to see again: you don’t lose.

Then, there was Mina.

Mina wasn’t just a constant; she was the steady hum beneath the chaos, the quiet fire that kept you grounded. She was still your secretary, still that eager-to-please presence at your side, but now she was more—so much more. The late nights at the office turned into intimate moments stolen in shadowed corners, in your private jet, in hotel suites during business trips. She was your confidante, your release, your everything when the world outside demanded too much.

And now, as you sit in your sleek new office—your name etched in chrome on the door, the skyline stretching out before you—it feels like everything is finally falling into place.

Joy steps into the room without knocking, a habit she never quite abandoned. She’s holding a tablet, her eyes scanning the screen as she approaches your desk.

“We’ve got numbers from the latest rollout,” she says, placing the tablet in front of you. “It’s better than we projected. Way better.”

You glance at the screen, a slow smile spreading across your face as you skim the data. “Of course it is,” you say, leaning back in your chair.

Joy smirks, crossing her arms. “Cocky as ever.”

“Confident,” you correct, meeting her gaze. “There’s a difference.”

She shakes her head but doesn’t argue. “You’ve earned it,” she admits. “But don’t let it go to your head. There’s still work to do.”

“There always is,” you say, standing and moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretches out before you, a sprawling testament to your return.

Joy follows your gaze for a moment before nodding toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to it. Just don’t forget the investor dinner tonight. Try to charm them instead of bulldozing, yeah?”

“No promises,” you say with a smirk, and she laughs as she leaves.

The door clicks shut, and you exhale, letting the moment sink in. You’re back. Not just back, but on top again, exactly where you belong.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and you already know who it is.

“Come in,” you call, turning back to your desk.

Mina steps inside, dressed in a fitted pencil skirt and blouse, her usual professional polish. Her hair falls in soft waves, and she’s carrying a tray with your usual coffee, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she approaches.

“Your coffee, boss,” she says with a small smile, setting the tray down carefully.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting back down and watching her as she moves around your desk to stand beside you.

“How’s everything going?” she asks.

“Better than I could’ve hoped,” you say honestly, reaching for the coffee. “The numbers are in, and they’re blowing expectations out of the water.”

Her smile widens, and she rests a hand lightly on your shoulder. “I knew you’d do it,” she says softly.

“You’re part of that,” you reply, glancing up at her. “You’ve been incredible, Mina. I don’t say it enough, but I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head slightly, her fingers tightening on your shoulder. “You don’t have to say it,” she murmurs. “I know.”

You set the coffee down and reach for her hand, pulling her gently into your lap. She goes willingly, her arms wrapping around your neck as she settles against you.

“This is just the beginning,” you say, your voice low. “We’ve got so much more to do, so much more to build. But as long as you’re here, I know I can handle it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, her tone firm.

You smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Good. Because this empire? It’s just getting started. We’ve got so much more to build, so much more to prove. And I want you right there with me, every step of the way.”

She leans in, her lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel it—the power, the fire, the unshakable certainty that together, you’re unstoppable. The world’s yours for the taking, and she’s the one who makes it all worth it.

[assortedcriminality]

snippet #3

Contains: blood (not much), knives, violence

Civilian’s eyes fluttered open, their vision intensely blurry. Blinking a few times to clear it up and wincing from a sharp pain in their temple, they raised their head. Instantly they startled, letting out a yelp as a figure came into focus across from them—staring right at their face.

“Awake at last,” the person drawled, tapping their fingers on the table-the table? 

“W-wh…” words failed Civilian immediately, their mouth refusing to cooperate. Their brain hadn’t yet caught up with their surroundings, but they were pretty sure they were sitting up. Why would they be sitting up? Who was the person on the other side of the table? Where-

“I’m sure you have quite a few questions.” The stranger’s voice interrupted their train of thought. “But I have some rather more pressing ones for you as well.”

Another wave of hurt came from Civilian’s head. They reached up a hand to steady themself, ignoring the stranger, but felt something…wet. With some hesitance, they took it away. It was covered in blood.

“I’m sorry about that,” the person said in a tone that didn’t sound very apologetic. “My employee was a little rough. But it was a necessary precaution, as I’m sure you’ll soon understand.”

Civilian tried to respond, to ask what was going on, but their voice wouldn’t cooperate. All that came out was a dry, rasping cough that shook their whole body. 

“I’ll give you a minute to recover,” said the stranger. They shifted through a pile of papers on their side of the table that Civilian hadn’t noticed before. Their pen jotted a few quick notes down on one of the sheets while Civilian took a deep breath, trying their best to ground themself. They couldn’t panic. They had to stay focused. If they couldn’t figure out what was happening and didn’t manage to escape on their own… well, Lover had insisted on them having that tracker in their phone.

“Wh-where am I?” They finally managed. Their voice was hoarse, as if it hadn’t been used in months. Hell, they didn’t know how long they’d been out. It was possible. Unlikely, sure, but possible. God, I really, really, really hope not.

The stranger smiled and wrote something on their page. “The Agency, of course.”

Civilian blinked. “The-the Agency? Like… the hero agency. For people with actual superpowers? What?”

“Most people with actual superpowers, as you say,” the stranger corrected. “There are always those who slip through our fingers and dedicate themselves to villainy. That’s what I’ve brought you here to discuss.”

Their head pounded. “Who are you?”

The stranger’s grin widened. “Why, I’m Superhero. I thought that was quite obvious.”

“S-Superhero?” This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. They’d eaten spicy food last night and were having a bad dream, that’s it. Why would Superhero, of all people, kidnap them? They weren’t a hero, not even a sidekick. Sure they had powers, but the Agency only took first and secondary powered individuals. Civilian’s tertiary power, the ability to calm others with their singing, was good for helping Lover relax after a long day at work, but not so much for fighting crime. 

“Yes. Now then, Civilian, I wanted to ask you something…” Superhero flipped through a file, pulling out a photograph. “Do you know who this is?”

Civilian raised an eyebrow, wincing when they found it hurt to do so. Of course they knew who it was. The picture was of Supervillain, the most notorious criminal in the city. They had evaded the heroes for years, stealing from every important figure in range and causing destruction with their powers of invulnerability and telekinesis. In the photo, they had their hands raised, floating in front of a smoking skyscraper. A team of heroes were surrounding them from all angles, but they wore a confident smirk, as if they knew something no one else did. “That’s Supervillain.”

“Indeed. Now—“ Supervillain took another photo from their folder and slid it across the table. “I believe you know this person?”

Civilian started. The image was of Lover, wearing a suit in a restaurant. They appeared to be meeting with a business partner, as they often did. “Why do you-“ 

“Answer the question, Civilian,” the hero interrupted. “Do you or do you not know this person?”

“I-I do,” they stammered. What did Lover have to do with this, whatever ‘this’ was? “But-“

“Everything will become clear in just a moment.” Superhero withdrew the photo and placed it back in the file. “You and this person, Lover, have been dating for over three years. Is that correct?”

Civilian stared at them. “I…yes. That’s right.”

“And you work as a performer?”

“Yes. I’m a-a singer.”

The crimefighter scribbled something and glanced down at a paper. “And Lover, they’re in business?”

“Real estate,” they said numbly. “But why-“

“All in due time,” Superhero said without looking up. “Real estate,” they chuckled quietly, giving no explanation. “And you met them when?”

Civilian shifted in their chair. “A little under four years ago. I was doing a show at a restaurant. They came up after, gave me a tip, complimented my voice…”

“And you lived happily ever after,” Superhero finished for them, flipping through a few more pages. “You live together, yes? An apartment building off 57th?”

“How do you-“ 

“Nice apartment for a real estate mogul, isn’t it?” they cut in. “Penthouse and everything?”

“They work for a very successful-“

Superhero closed the file with a pronounced slam. Their expression was incomprehensible. “You want to know why you’re here, Civilian?”

Civilian, caught off guard, nodded. 

The hero folded their hands on the table. “I want information on Supervillain.”

Their head was spinning. This was all so confusing, so wrong. None of it made any sense. Why would Superhero kidnap them—violently, it seemed—and think they knew any more about Supervillain than the Agency? “I don’t know why you think I can help you. I don’t know anything about them. Please, I don’t know what you did to me, but just leave me alone.”

Superhero tilted their head to the side, a pitying expression forming on their face. “I know you know, Civilian. Don’t make me do something I don’t want to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” they snapped, standing up. They were done with this. Clearly, Superhero wasn’t the person everyone thought they were, all shiny and moral, placed on a pedestal by the whole city. “But I don’t want to hear it.” They stormed over to the door and were about to throw it open when their body froze against their will, hands slamming to their sides. 

“Sit,” Superhero said. 

Civilian’s eyes widened in horror as their legs began to move back towards the chair of their own volition. They’d never seen Superhero’s powers used before, never imagined how terrifying it could be. The ability to control others with their mind, used to easily dispatch criminals without any need for bloodshed. They struggled to no avail as their hand reached to pull out their chair. Superhero’s face was full of mock disappointment. 

“Now then,” the hero said as Civilian was forced to sit down again. “Let’s continue, shall we? We were talking about Supervillain, weren’t we?”

Civilian couldn’t speak. They couldn’t move. They were trapped in their own body, unable to do anything but move their eyes. 

“Please don’t continue your naive stubbornness,” they sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for it. Tell me what you know. This is your last chance.”

“I don’t know anything,” were the words that shot out immediately, before Civilian even realized they could talk again. “Please believe me, I don’t know-“

“Civilian, dear.” Superhero shook their head. “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you when I know you’re dating Supervillain.”

Their breathing stopped. “What?”

“Supervillain, Lover…” the hero shrugged. “One and the same. I mean, it all seems quite obvious now. I simply can’t trust that you didn’t know.”

A laugh burbled up in Civilian’s throat. “You can’t be serious. Lover, a master criminal? That’s ridiculous. You have the wrong person. Lover doesn’t even have powers.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve never noticed anything off about them? Like the way they never seem to get injured, even everyday things like paper cuts and little bruises?” they asked skeptically.

“They’re just-just lucky, I guess.” Come on. Anyone could avoid injury just by being careful. And besides, just because Civilian had never seen them get hurt doesn’t mean they never had been. 

Superhero’s eyebrows rose. “Lucky. All right, how about the way they’re gone from dusk to dawn with no real explanation? Or how we’ve witnessed them meeting with Villain, a known criminal, under the guise of making a real estate deal?”

Civilian shook their head vehemently. “No. No. No. You’re wrong. You’re wrong. It’s all just a misunderstanding. They’re not like that. They would never break the law like that, put people in danger.” Their voice rose. “You don’t know them.”

The hero let out a snarl, their face contorting, rising half out of their chair. “You know something. I know you do. You will tell me.”

“I don’t know anything!” Civilian yelled, standing up again. Superhero seemed to have forgotten to keep controlling them. “Leave me alone!”

Superhero rose to their full height, sliding their chair back. Their expression was murderous. They put a hand on the edge of the table and slammed it to the left, making it crash into the wall. Civilian let out a yelp, hastily stumbling backward as Superhero approached.

“St-stay away from me,” Civilian said, hands outstretched. Their back hit the wall. Before they could move, Superhero’s hand smashed into the brick beside their head. With their other, they pulled a knife from their belt. Civilian froze, terrified eyes meeting the hero’s furious ones.

“You do know. You know everything. And I will drag it out of you however I need to,” they growled. “I don’t even need this knife, though it would be fun. I could make you jump out of the window. I could make you stab yourself in the heart. So I suggest you tell me what I want to know. Now.”

Tears began to slide down Civilian’s face. “Lover isn’t Supervillain, I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t know—“

Superhero’s knife slashed up in a flash of silver, cutting a bold line across their cheek. They cried out, more tears mingling with the blood that immediately began to stream down their chin in a thin, steady line. 

“How dare you,” they demanded, managing to glare the supposed hero down through their pain. “Everyone parades you around, saying how amazing and great you are, and here you are torturing me.”

A sinister smile formed on Superhero’s face. They angled their knife on their captive’s shoulder, starting to slowly dig in with the tip. Civilian bit their lip, determined to be defiant. “No one ever needs to know. Give me what I want, and I’ll stop. Simple as that.”

“I…” they trailed off, gasping as Superhero dug their blade deeper into their shoulder. “Don’t know… anything.”

“You lying bi—“

BOOM. The door fell flat on the wooden floor, sending up a cloud of dust. Bricks clattered to the ground, loosened by the force. Superhero whirled around, knife still held tightly in their fist. A tall figure stepped into the light, clad in a dark gray supersuit and a black mask that covered their features. A mask anyone in the city would recognize. 

“No,” Civilian breathed, forgetting their pain.

“Supervillain,” Superhero drawled. In a flash, they turned momentarily to seize Civilian’s wrist and pull them forward. They were too frozen to struggle as the hero’s arm wrapped around their waist and the knife was placed on their pulse point, forcing their chin up. “How nice of you to join us.”

Civilian held back a sob as Supervillain’s masked gaze slid to them. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. They hadn’t believed it for a second, not through the hero’s insistence. They had never doubted their partner, not ever. They’d never had a reason to. But now…

“Lover.” The name was less than a whisper on their lips, but the villain still flinched.

Superhero glanced down at their hostage. “You really didn’t know?” They gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I suppose you were somewhat useful. Now…” They faced Supervillain with a triumphant expression. “Turn yourself over to me, or I slit their pretty little throat.” 

Supervillain’s finger twitched. It was an almost imperceptible movement, unnoticeable had Civilian not been watching them a hawk. A wicked blade, about twelve inches long, sat in the air in front of Superhero’s face. It was as if it had appeared out of nowhere. The hero stiffened.

“Release them. Now. Or I kill you. They’re innocent, they have no part in this.” Their voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, deeper and a little raspier than usual. 

Superhero sneered at them around the blade. “They lost their innocence the second they started dating a master criminal. They’re just collateral now.” They increased their pressure on the knife, causing a thin line of blood to bead up on the hostage’s neck. “You’re fast, but are you fast enough? You might kill me, but you’ll be too late to save them.”

Civilian trembled in the hero’s grip, staring at the criminal’s motionless figure. They didn’t want Supervillain—Lover—to kill Superhero, no matter how terrible they were. They didn’t want to watch Lover do such a horrible thing, accept that they were capable of murder. It was the right thing for Supervillain to turn themself in, but Superhero was corrupt, possibly unstable. Civilian didn’t want to see them win either.

“Fine.” Supervillain’s blade clattered to the ground. The criminal held out their hands to Superhero. “Take me. Just let them go.”

The hero grinned. They stepped away from Civilian, offering the knife to them handle-first. “Hold this for me, love. For insurance.”

For the second time, their hand moved of its own accord. To their horror, it grabbed the knife and placed it on their neck again. They were frozen like that, not even able to speak. Supervillain’s shoulders tightened. The hero drew closer to them, taking a pair of thick power-suppressing handcuffs from their belt. 

“I can’t believe all it took to bring in the mighty Supervillain was a little mouse of a civilian,” they said, grabbing the criminal’s left hand roughly and forcing it into one of the cuffs, securing it with a loud click. The hero lifted their head and smirked at their masked face. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Supervillain murmured. Their captor continued speaking, but it wasn’t Superhero they were looking at. Instead, they gazed past at their partner’s ashen face, the blood matted in their hair, running from their cheek and shoulder. That’s when Civilian saw it. The subtle twitch of the villain’s finger on their uncuffed hand. The dusty brick that seemed to appear out of nowhere, hovering just above Superhero’s head. The hostage’s eyes widened. The hero hadn’t seen the movement, they were focused on their monologue, convinced they had already won. Civilian couldn’t say anything, couldn’t warn them. They weren’t even sure they wanted to. 

The brick came down. Superhero collapsed to the ground mid-sentence. Civilian dropped their knife, backing away. They watched as Supervillain knelt and unclipped a set of keys from the unconscious hero’s belt. They chose a silver one and unlocked the cuff on their left wrist, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. Only then did they look up at their partner. Soundlessly, they brought a hand to their face and slipped off their black mask, revealing the features beneath. Lover’s eyes met theirs. 

“Civilian, I’m so sorry—“

“Save it, Lover,” they said, voice trembling. “You lied to me. You’ve lied to me from the day we met. You’re a villain.”

Their pain was obvious on their face. “I know. It’s my fault you’re here. I’m so, so sorry, Civilian. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

“I was going to get hurt anyway!” they burst out. “No matter what happened, you were going to hurt me. Maybe not like this, but did you really think you could hide who you are forever? Why did you do this?” Their voice broke. “Why would you do this to me?” 

“Because I’m selfish,” they said. “And I love you. I loved you too much to tell you, and I was too selfish to let you go.” 

“Is that supposed to make me forgive you?” Tears began to well up in their eyes again. Their head pounded. “Because you love me, you think that makes everything okay?”

“Of course not.” Their voice was full of anguish. “It doesn’t make up for it. Nothing does. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I would understand if you hated me forever.”

“Lover…” Civilian put a hand to their forehead. The room was spinning, lightheadedness sinking in. “Lover, I don’t—“ 

Their knees buckled. Lover was there in a millisecond, catching them gently and holding them upright. Their head fell into Lover’s shoulder. The villain examined them with concern. A sheen of sweat stood out at their hairline. Their breathing was shallow and laborious. 

“Civilian. Civilian, are you all right?” they asked. 

“It-it hurts,” they whispered. 

Their partner’s eyes widened. “You’ve lost more blood than I thought. Your adrenaline’s kept you functioning all this time.” They placed a hand under Civilian’s knees and lifted them up into their arms. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I want to go home,” they mumbled.

Lover gave them a sad smile, starting out of the empty door frame. “So do I, my love.”

So do I. 

word count: 2948

[optimisticgrey]

Well well well, if this isn't the consequence of my own actions, haunting me

Tumblr has voted.

So, here it is. Follow along for one hell of a weird story.

✨In another life, Chapter 2✨

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summary: You wake at the beach after attending your friends birthday party last night and realize, you have a tadpole in your head. Welcome to Faerûn!

author's note: Drastic rewrite of Chapter One to fit the Tumblr voted narrative.

darling tags @waterdeepwife @worfs-glorious-hair @dekariosclan @astarioffsimpmain @swordsbardkat @sweetgemberry @jeneralmischief (Let me know if you want to be on/off this list)

content warning: Spoilers. All of them.

word count: 2,4k

Song recommandation: Asking Alexandria - Nothing Left

AO3 Link

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics

“I…” You start but your voice trails off. Your mouth is too dry, your tongue too heavy and sitting up so quickly has made your head somewhat dizzy.

You blink several times, trying to steady your vision, but the sand beneath your shoes remains hazy.

Shoes. You glance down, only now registering that you're wearing your Doc Martens, paired with black skinny jeans.

Huh. You could have sworn to have undressed last night, before dropping into bed.

“I am not sure,” you manage at last, lifting your gaze again. You blink rapidly, opening and closing your eyes in quick succession.

Nope. Nobody is glitching or moving or hovering or any other strange thing they could be doing.

They are not dropping out of existence; your bedroom does not materialize around you in some surreal twist of logic.

They are just standing there, eyeing you.

And they are more stunning than you could have ever imagined. Not the pixelated versions of imaginary people – videogame characters -  you have come to care, fantasize about.

They are real. Alive. Breathing. Staring.

Your eyes dart back to the man who introduced himself as Gale.

He might be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life.

Admittedly, you have read your fair share of smut written about him. About all of them. It’s your masturbation company and inspiration after all.

Thank fuck for AO3.

You’ve pored over screenshots, watched animations, dissected every subtle shift in their expressions through content creators’ videos. But none of it has ever come close to the sheer presence of him crouching before you now.

He frowns, a crease forming between his brows. You remember reading about that line, the one that deepens when he’s lost in thought or troubled and you nearly break into laughter, as you notice it.

His eyes aren’t as dark as you had imagined. They are a warm, gentle brown, lacking the deep, unreadable mystery you had expected. The lines curling up his neck and toward his eye are more gray than blue. The orb at his chest, less concealed than you remember.

Huh. Interesting.

Your mind spins, but you push through the haze, focusing on what’s in front of you. Ir rather, who is in front of you.

They are stunning and achingly familiar. The creeping, suffocating sense of recognition claws at the edges of your mind, fighting against the impossibility of it all.

The toned muscles of Lae’zel’s arms nearly make you afraid. She is breathtaking, in her own, harsh way.

Wyll’s scars are softer than you expected, less defined, more a quiet accent to his already striking face. His red eye catches the light. The sending stone looks more like a piece of polished wood than anything arcane. His smile, is warm and sincere.

Shadowheart is…. She is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. That first impression does not falter. If anything, it solidifies the longer you look at her.

Astarion clears his throat, his arms crossed, and when your gaze finally flicks to him, there is a faint glow behind his crimson eyes that is both unnerving and oddly familiar. The smile playing on his lips is somewhere between amusement and disdain, and you know — you know — that if you let him, he will tear you apart with words sharper than his fangs.

And Gale.

He’s beautiful. Nearly too beautiful, if such a thing exists in Faerûn. Not the pixel-perfect Gale you have seen through your monitor, but something far more real.

You realize they are waiting for you to speak.

“But I am a little dizzy. And my head hurts,” you mumble.

The words feel slow, syrupy as they leave your mouth.

“As presumed, yes. Do you feel a sharp pain at the back of your neck?”

Wyll taps a bottle against Gale’s arm, he takes it with a nod and removes the cork, before offering it to you.

“I do,” you manage as you take the bottle. “Thank you.”

“Sadly, it is to be expected result after the insertion of a mind flayer tadpole. You can drink this; it is not poisoned.”

You had started to lift the bottle to your mouth but let it sink again.

“Nice of you to point that out before I drink,” you mutter way harder than intended and Astarion snorts.

You grin at him before you take a sip. The water is cold and tastes vaguely off metal. It seems to be clear enough though.

It helps. At least a little.

The world remains a mess of sound and light and confusion, but your thoughts begin to steady.

While you drink in slow sips, you look around.

It’s all here. The burning nautiloid. The dead man lying under one nautiloid tendrils, curled over two broken rocks.

The Chionthar to your right.

Why are they all here, though? If Wyll is recruited, have they already been to the Grove?

You decide not to care for the moment.

One step at a time.

Headache. Water. Standing up.

Handing the bottle back to Gale with a quick thanks, you stand up. He rises with you, steadying your arm when you knees wobble.

Your body finally reacts to the shock of all this; the overwhelming impossibility, the absurdity of standing among them. Your stomach churns, your throat tightens, and before you can stop it, you throw up.

It hits Gale’s robe and boots in an unforgiving spray of bile.

You stagger, coughing, bracing your hands on your knees, utterly mortified.

“I am… sorry,” you manage, voice hoarse.

Gale takes a startled step back, then calmly casts a cantrip, cleaning himself with a flick of his wrist.

The spell catches your eye, despite still retching. You can see the air rippling around him. For the fraction of a second, he is glowing.

“Happens to the best of us,” he offers gracefully. “We have a camp set up nearby. Would you care to accompany us?"

You turn around, still coughing, wiping your mouth, wildly gesturing at him.

“Do that again,” you order while you try to steady yourself. Your knees are still weak and your stomach hurts from cramping. “Please.”

His head tilts slightly. “You are speaking of the cleaning cantrip, I presume.”

You only nod, shifting your feet to regain solid grounding as you try to stand up. Your head still threatens to burst but you cannot deny the fascination.

"This is all terribly quaint and cozy, truly. But might we head back? The sun is setting, and we really ought to start considering... dinner."

You ignore him, focussing on Gale. He is amused and somewhat charmed by your interest.

He flicks his wrist again and there it is. A faint glow around him, a halo, the way you always thought an actual aura would look like. Cloaking him in a soft glow, not purple, not blue, something in between, clinging to his silhouette. It only stays for a brief moment but you are certain, you have been sensing, for the first time in your life, what magic looks like.

“Can you do it again?”

He chuckles. “Although it comes to a surprise even for myself, I agree with Astarion. Accompany us. You do not… quite offer the impression of someone stable enough to travel alone.”

“I will be fine.” You blink as you carefully rise. You are still afraid your head might explode but that might be due to the tadpole. There is something in your head that is not supposed to be there, after all.

Or possibly the travel through time and space. Have you travelled through time though? There is no way of knowing, really.

Or the fact that you could turn into a mindflayer.

Or the fact that Gale fucking Dekarios just cleaned your vomit of his robe with an actual cantrip.

How the hell did you – of all people - end up in Faerûn?

You follow them to their camp. The fire is lit with a firebolt casually cast by Gale and you watch him attentively.

Once again, you notice the glow when he performs the spell, something you are pretty sure is what they call the Weave here.

Lae’zel snorts, unimpressed, while the others manage to set up an additional tent for you. You barely have the energy to acknowledge it, slumping down near the fire as Gale hands you a cup of thin broth.

It’s more of a battered tin mug than a proper cup, the metal dented and worn, but you don’t mind.

The warmth of the broth is soothing, the salt and whatever faint seasoning lingers in it doing wonders to settle your nausea. You assume it has electrolytes. You’d kill for an Ibuprofen, you think to yourself.

The broth doesn’t fix the headache entirely, but at least the pain is no longer blinding.

You feel less half-dead.

You are grateful they took you in. In your weird clothes with literally no useful skills and with exactly nothing to offer, they might as well have left you there.

When Lae’zel realized you have never held a sword or any form of weapon in your life, her disdain had become quite obvious. The fact that you might be able to see magic but have no clue how to wield it, was not helpful.

Shadowheart offered you a spare robe, simple gray wool. It is quite itchy, so you decided to keep your top and bra but at least you are look like you belong here.

As everyone settles around the fire, it becomes painfully clear that they are still strangers to one another. The conversation moves slowly, awkwardly, filled with hesitant exchanges and too long pauses. This is their first night together.

At some point, breaking the silence, Gale speaks. “I never asked your name.”

You have noticed Astarion was gone the moment the sun had set. You are painfully aware the others have no clue he is a vampire. Or vampire spawn. You forgot the difference.

Lae’zel went after dinner, briskly thanking Gale for cooking.

“Tav,” your lips say and you freeze, fingers tightening around your mug. Your eyes dart onto the fire as you concentrate.

“Tav,” you say again.

That is not your name.

Why the fuck are you not able to say your own name?

“Tav,” you attempt once more, but confusion builds in your mind.

Gale watches you with growing interest.

Shadowheart chuckles. “We heard you the first time.”

Wyll shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat before looking away.

“It’s not my name. I cannot tell you my name. Why can I not say my name? When I say it, all that comes out is-“

“Tav,” Gale concludes. He moves a little closer on the log, eyes darting in on you.

"You are not of this world," Gale deduces, his gaze sweeping over you with measured curiosity. "Your attire alone marks you as an anomaly. The way you speak, the way you move… it all serves to further solidify the notion. You bear no visible sigils of deity or profession, no markers of allegiance nor craft. And then, of course, there was your fascination with a mere cantrip—a spell so rudimentary that even the most hesitant of apprentices would scarcely spare it a second thought. You have never truly seen magic before, have you? And yet, most curiously of all—you cannot even speak your own name."

His lips move into a grin, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Now that, I daresay, is a mystery most worthy of unravelling."

„I am glad my misery is able to intrigue you,” you snap before you can stop yourself and Shadowheart chuckles again.

“You will get along just well. As agreed, we move to the Grove at first light? We need a healer.”

You only nod, as she rises.

“Good night,” she murmurs with an underlying tone of hidden feeling and descends to her tent. Somehow, you know she will be praying before sleep.

You are feeling a little uneasy under Gale’s most delighted stare. He notices and averts his gaze but you are sure, this is a discussion that cannot be delayed.

After all, your survival might depend on it.

“I am not….from this world, as you put it. I do not know how I ended up here. Or why.”

“What world are you from?”

You shrug. “I do not know what you call this. My reality is different. Really really different.”

"Can you name the planet? A galaxy? Offer a time frame? Anything that might indicate how it aligns with our world?” Gale asked curiously. His eyes start to wander while his mind is racing. You are not sure how you know but you are certain. "Surely, there must be something—some point of reference, however small—that might bridge the chasm between where you were and where you are now."

“The galaxy is called Milky way and the planet is called-“

"Earth," he nods, briskly rising to his feet. He starts to pace, gesturing mostly to himself. "I have read about it. A world beyond our own, spoken of in rare tomes and whispered theories. Few, very few—only the most powerful of Archwizards—have mastered the advanced techniques required to glimpse its distant shores, let alone set foot upon them. And yet, here you are. Curious, most curious indeed."

When he catches the confusion on your face, he smiles. As if his curiosity alone might somehow fix everything.

How the fuck is that supposed to help? You don’t even have a clean set of underwear.

Or a toothbrush.

"We shall find out," Gale assures you. "Tomorrow, we shall make our way to the Grove—to seek a healer, first and foremost. They may be able to assess our condition. And their library—if fortune favours us—may house rare tomes that grant us our first true insights." He offers a small, thoughtful smile. "A mystery such as this deserves a careful unravelling, after all. Good night, Tav. Wyll."

With that, he dips into a small bow before retreating to his tent. Wyll raises his cup in acknowledgment and follows, pausing for a brief moment as if to say something but then deciding against it.

You empty the cup and drink two additional cups of water, just to be sure. To shit in nature will be a challenge you realize, as you crouch behind a bush.

You have always hated camping and your dislike has not improved since you turned thirty. The insects crawling everywhere, the constant dampness creeping into every pore, the moldy smell of used tents and the fact that you are sleeping on the actual floor – why would anyone do this for fun, when smart people invented hotels?

Sadly, the advantages of modern life will be missing here.

With a resigned sigh, you shed the scratchy robe and use it as an extra blanket, bitterly acknowledging, one point to capitalism.

[mars-ipan]

the hinata kinning is strong tonight

[blastiebabe]

hell yeah, you are spoiled

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

You place your phone somewhere Katsuki cannot notice, and in an angle enough to be able to see most of the space in the bedroom you share with him.

You press record and come back to sitting in front of your vanity table to continue getting ready for your date night. You have seen this TikTok video and was inspired by it to put your phone on record to test how easily your boyfriend can be enraged for you.

Katsuki comes into your shared bedroom wearing only trouser pants that fits perfectly in his waist and accentuate his hips. Seeing him through your mirror, you can't help but realize how beautiful your boyfriend is. Katsuki heads to the closet looking for a shirt to wear.

"Love, what color are you wearing?" He asks as he look at his clothes on the rack.

You came back to your senses when you heard him speak, you have been so mesmerized by his beauty you almost forgot you were shooting.

"A black dress." You replied, looking at his direction. "Why?"

Katsuki looks back at you. "Just askin'." He says as he brings out a black polo and proceeds to sit on the bed.

You smirk at his response. "You wanna match colors with me or somethin'?" You tease him.

"Nah uh." You watch his condescending expression from his reflection on the mirror, his tone with an attitude while simultaneously having red ears. If you aren't planning anything, you weren't gonna let that slide, but since you are, you'll prioritize that.

You laugh at him and continued your make up, trying to find the right time to throw him the reason you started recording. He laid on the bed scrolling on his phone while waiting for you.

A minute passed, and you decided to finally tell him. "Love..." Katsuki immediately darted his eyes straight at you, waiting for the next thing you'll say.

"I have something I need to tell you but promise you won't be mad, okay?" You say calmly, acting yourself the hell out.

Katsuki immediately changed his position and sits up straight, eyes locked at you with a hint of worry in his face. "I ain't making any promises. What is it?"

You turn your back on the mirror and faced your boyfriend who has now a visibly worried face. You look at the floor and started playing with your fingers, making him worry more.

He stands up and sits on the edge of the bed in front of you. He is now near you and looking straight at you while you continue to look at the floor. "Princess, come on, you can tell me..."

"Well, I... I have read some comments on your social media page..." You look at Katsuki before you, you feel a hint of guilt when you saw how genuine his concern is. But you needed to continue.

"Mm hmm. And then?" He asks calmly.

"And... and some of your fans have left comments on the pictures you have uploaded of me."

"The hell did they say?" Katsuki asks now with a hint of irritation from his voice. This is going well. You thought.

"They said I am super spoiled." You say as sad as your acting can be.

You can clearly see the shift in Katsuki's eyes as you have muttered the last word, and his annoyance suddenly became a repressed laughter. He snorts as he covers his mouth.

You face him offended. Did he just laugh because other people called you spoiled? What the fuck?

Before you can even tell him off, he stands up, grabs his polo and started wearing it. "Love, you are spoiled." He says emphasizing on it.

"Katsuki, what the actual fuck?" You say having a hard time to process what he is saying.

He was about to button his polo when he suddenly sees you look so disappointed to what he just said. He clearly isn't making himself clear. He goes in front you, his right knee touching the floor as he looks straight into your eyes.

"My love, you honestly better be spoiled. Because I do spoil you, don't I?" Katsuki reaches for your hands. "So, hell yeah, you are spoiled. Because you are my princess and you deserve to get everything you want."

You can literally feel your annoyance slowly fading out. How can this man be so damn mean and sweet at the same fucking time?

Katsuki continues, "I know you spoil yourself even before we started dating, so it is my job to spoil you better than you spoil yourself." You can straight up see how genuine his words are through his eyes.

"And if I may I remind you, I am more than willing to spoil you 'til the ends of the Earth if it means I get to make you be happiest you've ever been." The man before you explain as he cups your cheek with his hand.

This conversation has turned into a completely different route from what you had expected. You had expected him to be furious about the comments, to be protective to not let other people talk like that about you. But turns out Katsuki has his own way to make you feel so damn good. This. This is the reason why Katsuki is different from all the other damned extras.

You can literally feel tears forming in your eyeballs. You cup both his cheeks with your hands, knowing anytime the damned tears might just fall. "You know I love you so damn much, right?"

You feel his smile in the palm of your hands. "Of course I do, my love." As soon as these words depart from his lips, you took the opportunity to have your lips met his.

Using your tongue to explain and make him remember how much you love him, and all the other things you feel for him that can never be explained by words alone.

Your hands travel on the nape of his neck bringing him closer to you as you deepen the kiss. You feel his hands at the small of your back as he let you lead.

When your lips parted, both of you are catching for your breath. You stare at Katsuki's mesmerizing face before you with his eyes glistening. "Now that was a perfect example of how you spoil me."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ thank u for reading! :>> . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ༶•┈ by yel0ngkape ┈•༶ i accept requests, so feel free to reach out! ♡

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private Session

Part one, Part Two , Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe does coke), Rafe's an ass, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, language, slight degradation, slight praise, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. UGH I need him so bad. But anyways, this fic is NOT fully proofread for errors, and I was a little fried while writing this and it's literally almost 3 am right now, but I wanted to get this posted. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

You don’t hate your job, but it’s definitely not the most respected profession out there. You can’t really hate the one thing that makes you money, pretty damn good money too. What can you say, you’re good at your job. You do however hate the assholes who come in nearly every night just to get on your nerves, well more like asshole. 

Rafe Cameron loves to come in and watch you. He’ll stare for hours, just admiring you. Sometimes he’s with a few other guys from figure eight, but usually comes in alone. Honestly it’s when he comes in alone that he’s really bad. Since he can direct all his focus on you shamelessly. Rafe’s especially awnry when Barry, your boss, comes to hang out with him. Your boss is normally quite fair when it comes to his dancers; always making sure they’re not being mistreated by customers. But Rafe? Rafe has a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants to whoever. And unluckily for you, you seem to be the only one of Barry’s girls that he’s interested in. He never does so much as look at any of the other dancers when you’re around, he only cares about you. You thought it was flattering at first, but now it’s just weird.

When you see him come in tonight you sigh, still keeping up your performance on stage. God, it’s definitely going to be a long night. You’ve already had enough crap for the day, now for Rafe Cameron to waltz into the club when you’re only halfway through your shift, this is just great. God must really have it out for you.

Rafe hadn’t known you were working tonight, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he sees you on your stage as he walks to the back room to find Barry. Once he disappears into the back room with Barry, you forget about him and continue on with your routine per usual. 

A while later, you see Rafe finally emerging from the back room, making his way back through the crowd of horny, drunk men and topless women. You see him shove a small bag into his pocket as he walks into view. His demeanor is different now; even cockier than before, if that’s possible. And his eyes are bloodshot, pupils extremely dilated. 

Just keep walking. You think to yourself as you collect bills from your stage floor. Just keep walking.

But of course, Rafe stops near the front end of your stage, taking a seat. He gets comfortable, slouching back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at you.

You try not to let your annoyance show as you continue dancing. Rafe watches you silently; occasionally tossing $1’s and $5’s onto the stage; only sticking to the small bills for now. Not because he’s cheap, but because he likes to take his time; build it up over time. He only throws a few at a time, so he can watch you bend over and pick up the cash however many times he wants.

You lean down to pick up the newest bills he just tossed down for you. You look at him, flashing him a flirty smile as you do with all paying customers. He shoves his wallet back into his jeans and looks up, making eye contact with you. He flashes a smirk that’s almost…charming? But, you know better than to fall for that. No matter how pretty he is, you know better.

A bit later, you take a short break from the pole to make your rounds around the club and see if you have any customers interested in your services. You hate it when it’s busy. Well, stripper you loves it when it’s busy because it means more money. But you, you hate the loud crowds of drunken perverts and frat boys; you felt so exposed. Which, you should because you’re hardly wearing anything. But, you just feel too vulnerable. You liked the calmer nights when the crowd was smaller; you feel more in control that way. And fuck is it packed tonight. You can barely move through the people, and you can hardly hear anything besides the loud music and obnoxious cat calls. This is why you don’t usually work on saturday nights; you’re just doing one of the other girls a favor and covering her shift. 

Accidentally, you bump your shoulder into somebody while on your way back to the stage. You don’t think anything of it and just keep walking until you feel a hand on your wrist. Immediately you turn back, pulling your wrist away. You’re not surprised to find that it was Rafe you had bumped into you. 

“Hey, y’think I can get a private show?” He asks, his emotions unclear as he steps closer so he can hear you. 

“Sorry sir, no rooms are available.” You say with a sensual laugh and a bright smile, no matter how badly you want to just roll your eyes and walk away. But you can’t. You must remain professional. Rafe bites his lip, taking yet another step closer. He leans in to whisper into your ear. 

“That’s not what I mean.” He keeps his mouth next to your ear.” You can hear his breathing as you think of a response. 

“Can’t, sorry. I don’t do that, I’m not a fucking hooker.” You bite back, beginning to walk away again.

But Rafe quickly retorts, “doesn’t matter, both mean you’re just a fucking slut. Fuckin’ whore.” He spits. He tries to grab your wrist again and fails, grabbing your hand instead. He lets out a jagged breath, tugging you closer. “Come on. I’ll give you one thousand for two hours.” You’re shocked at his generosity, but like you said, you’re not a hooker. You don’t sell that part of you. Especially not to this asshole. 

You don’t get the chance to respond before Barry is walking over to the two of you. “There a problem?” You sigh a breath of relief when Rafe drops your hand. But when you look at Barry, you realize he’s not asking you.

“Yeah, this fuckin’ bitch don’t know how to listen.” Rafe gestures to you.

Barry nods, taking in Rafe’s words. He steps over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you a few steps away to talk to you. “What's he want?” Your boss asks, trying to gauge the situation. It doesn’t help that he’s also been doing some lines in the back room.

“He wants to take me home. I told him I’m not a hooker.” You explain, hoping he’ll side with you.

“Well maybe for tonight you are. You know why that is, sweetheart?”

You look down as you speak. “‘Cause we listen to what Mr. Cameron says.” You recite his rule. 

“One night, just go with him. I bet he’ll pay big.” Barry pleads, not really giving you much option. 

You argue, “Yeah, and you’re just gonna take 50%.” 

“How ‘bout this. You listenin’?” You nod, looking up at him as he speaks. “You do this, you get to keep 75%.”

You think for a moment before responding. “Seventy-five percent of all my earnings.” You demand, causing Barry to chuckle. 

Barry knows you’re stubborn, and he knows he can’t legally force you to go with Rafe. So hesitantly, he gives in and accepts your deal. “Fine, fine ‘aight, seventy-five percent of everything you make.” 

You reach out to shake his hand. He holds onto it for a moment longer than is necessary, looking into your eyes, smiling a grimy smile; his gold tooth shining as the low club lighting hits it just right. “Now go get to fuckin’”, he laughs, letting go of your hand. You roll your eyes and as you turn your back to him he gives you a slight nudge back towards Rafe’s direction. 

Re-approaching Rafe, you compose yourself. “One thousand for one hour.” You negotiate, your expression making it clear that you won’t be taking no for an answer. You know he has the money, and he’s clearly willing to spend it on you.

Rafe takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, attempting to contain his amused smile. “That wasn’t the deal.” He takes a step towards you. Your demanding expression doesn’t falter as you continue to stare at him silently. He huffs out a chuckle, nodding his head and licking his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. One thousand for one hour of your time. But, anything that goes over an hour is free. And trust me, you’re gonna be begging for more.” 

“Right, sure I will.” You say sarcastically.

Rafe ignores your words. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Deal.”

Rafe wastes no time in taking your hand, leading you to the back room. You pass by the private rooms, seeing that one had opened up. You stop walking, making Rafe look back at you with a confused expression, waiting for your reason.

“There’s a room open…” You speak, looking over at the open door.

“I already told you, not here. That’s not what I’m paying for.” Rafe turns, pulling you behind him. He leads you into the back room, waiting for you to get your stuff from your locker. You slip some clothes over your lingerie, not wanting to go outside nearly naked. After grabbing your bag, you follow Rafe out the back door and to his truck. 

His demeanor seems to be more neutral now, rather than being plain mean. Nervously on the drive over to figure eight, you spew out words. “I don’t usually do this.” You say, looking over at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at you, he just stares straight out at the road in front of him. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. “Really. I never go home with random guys like this. I never even have se–”. You cut yourself off, already having spilt too much. You curse yourself. 

When you’re working, you can keep a strong, dominant attitude and be more confident because it’s all just a part of your character. You can be anyone on stage, you don’t have to be yourself. But as soon as you’re outside of the club, you’re just an anxious fucking mess. Which probably has to do with why you hardly have a sex life. 

Rafe looks over to you, occasionally glancing back out at the road. His expression almost makes it seem like he’s actually listening to you; like he cares. You shake that thought out of your head and try to remind yourself that he doesn’t care about what you’re saying, he’s just paying you for sex. 

“Wait, so you’re saying that you’re a stripper and a virgin?” He asks, his eyes narrow with confusion, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laugh. “No! I never said I was a virgin.” You explain.

Rafe smiles when he hears you laugh, not being able to keep his eyes off of your beautiful smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh, not the fake, flirty ones you flash to the guys at the club while working. It’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

“So, what then?” He genuinely asks. You’re shocked with the amount of effort he seems to be putting into this conversation, you never took him for much of a talker. 

“I don’t know…I just don’t get many chances I guess.” You say honestly, unsure why you’re sharing this with him of all people. You hate him.

“Bullshit.” Adds Rafe. “You’re a stripper.”

“Okay yeah, I’m a stripper, but that’s ‘cause I need the money. I don’t go home with the guys from the club, well…usually.” You pause for a moment. “...that’s just my job. Outside of the club I get to be myself…and I don’t know, it’s just different.”

“You’re afraid people won’t like who you really are?” His words take you by surprise, making your words get stuck in your throat.

You eventually manage to choke out a response. “Yeah, I…I guess so.” Rafe just nods. Not wanting to admit it, but he gets what you mean. You both sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to his place.

Arriving at Tanneyhill, Rafe parks the truck in his driveway and he quickly hops out, rounding the front of the truck and opening your door, allowing you to step out. He leads you up to the front door, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking it, following you inside before shutting the door behind you two. 

You take a few steps down the hall, observing the room around you. Now that you’re seeing his home, you wish you tried to get even more money out of him. “C’mon”, he mumbles from behind you. Rafe grabs your duffel bag from you and walks in front of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He sets the bag on a small couch in his room, turning around to look at you. He looks you up and down, admiring your body. His skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s finally gonna get to do all the things he’s been dying to do to you since the first time he saw you at the club.

Rafe moves to sit on the bed, patting his lap without saying another word. You know what he wants. Slowly you make your way over to him, straddling his lap so that you’re facing him; your knees on the bed on either side of his legs. For a brief moment, you both stare at each other, getting momentarily lost in one another’s eyes. 

Carefully he places his hand on your face, cupping your jaw. His movements are slow and calculated as he leans in, enveloping your lips with his own. The kiss is slow and tender, everything you weren’t expecting. 

You pull back just enough to look over at the clock on his nightstand, noting the time in your head. You breathlessly mutter to him, “your hour starts now.” You can see him staring at your lips and without warning he leans in, kissing you. This time, he’s not being so gentle. 

Things escalate quickly; clearly he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. Rafe stands up, holding you while not breaking the kiss, he turns the two of you around and lays you on your back, crawling over you. His lips leave yours as he starts to kiss and suck at your neck, eventually finding your ear. Rafe takes your ear between his teeth, gently nipping at it. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sends a chill throughout your body. 

He gently whispers, “I’m gonna do what I want, but you just tell me if it’s too much, alright? Let me know if you want me to stop.” He presses a soft kiss to your ear as you nod.

“Mhm.” You mumble, acknowledging his words.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Say it.”

You oblige, looking at him as you speak. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”

Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” He wastes no time before his lips come crashing onto yours again; somehow even more passionately than the last. 

A soft moan escapes your lips, only making him get even rougher. He kisses you sloppily, his tongue making sure to explore every bit of your mouth. He hovers over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, holding himself up. And with his free hand, he begins to slide off your shirt. 

You try to help him get you out of your shirt by maneuvering yourself around as best you can underneath him. Once your shirt is off, very little is left to the imagination in your work top, which is just a very lacy piece of lingerie. His hand then works at the button on your shorts, once he’s got that undone he starts tugging them off of you, tossing it to his floor. Once you’re in your little work ‘outfit’, he takes a moment to admire you up close. 

He’s seen you in skimpy little things like this before, he needs to see the rest of you; all of you. He starts to try and get you out of your lingerie, but there’s too many straps and clips, he can’t get you out of it quick enough. He starts to get frustrated, pausing your kiss as he leans back trying to get a good look at what he’s working with. Rafe’s impatience gets to him and he mumbles a quick “fuck this” just before ripping the thin fabric right off of you. 

You let out an involuntary gasp, causing him to look at your face which has an annoyed expression. This was one of your new outfits for work and he just ruined it. 

He leans in and presses a soft, wet kiss to your slightly parted lips. “Calm down, I’ll pay for it.” You don’t get a change to respond before he’s pulling the damaged fabric off of you, tossing it onto the floor as well. “Fuuckk, baby.” He mutters, running his free hand down your bare skin, tracing the shape of you as he admires your bare body. “Oh my god,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “So fucking beautiful.” His mouth finds your chest, immediately latching onto one of your nipples; he sucks at it until he eventually pulls off to give attention to your other breast. His eyes are trained up on you, watching as your head tilts back in pleasure. 

Rafe pulls his mouth off with a pop! He stands up from the bed, walking over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, taking something out and coming back to you. You see a bundle of rope in his hands, your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be into all that. He really had this planned out. Your excitement builds; the wetness between your legs growing. Rafe sees the thoughts going on in your head.

He tries to reassure you, “relax, it’s fine, m’gonna take real good care of you baby.” He instructs you to scoot up towards the headboard of his bed. Quickly and skillfully, he ties your wrists to the bed, making sure it’s not tight enough to cause pain and not loose enough for you to slip out. You’re not sure how you feel about being tied up and against your will, it definitely leaves you very vulnerable; very out of control. However, for some reason you feel like you can almost trust him. Because so far, since leaving the club, he’s been very tentative and reassuring, even gentle at times. Which is not at all what you had expected from Rafe Cameron. 

Soon, his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. You struggle against your restraints, feeling like you need to grip onto something. Your hips try to run from him, only causing him to grab ahold of your thighs, keeping you in place. 

“F-fuuck…” You whine.

Rafe mumbles against your cunt and you can feel the vibrations in your core. As his tongue fucks you ruthlessly, you find it hard to keep quiet, a sea of moans escaping from your lips.

“Feel good, hm? You like that?” You pout at the loss of his mouth on you, causing him to chuckle before resuming his actions. His tongue circles your clit, only stopping to suck on it. The heat is building in your lower stomach, almost getting unbearable.

“Ohhh…shitshitshitshitshit” You almost scream. “Fuck! Oh fuck Rafe. Please, please don’t…don’t stop.” Rafe pulls back, “told you you’d be begging.” Your hips buck up, chasing after his mouth, missing the feeling of his tongue. But ultimately, Rafe obeys, his mouth continuing its ministations on you. He adds a finger to the mix, slowly tracing up and down your entrance as he sucks at your clit. He slides his long digit inside of you without warning, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to hit the spongy spot deep inside you. “Fuck,” You cry. “I…fuck. G-gonna cum, Rafe!” Your wrists tug against the rope; hurting just a bit, making you whimper in pain. Though you’re distracted by the feeling of your orgasm creeping in. 

Rafe hears your cry and he can tell it’s different from your other moans. His head snaps up from between your legs, making you miss his warm, wet mouth on you. He continues his earlier actions, adding a second finger in you, trying to stretch you out as much as he can; to prepare you for him. Your legs wrap around his head as the barrier in your stomach finally breaks, letting your excruciatingly good orgasm wash over you.

He slowly works you down from your high, pulling his fingers out from you, making you squeeze around nothing, your body hating the absence of him. His tongue continues to lap up all your juices. Then he begins to kiss his way back up your body. When he meets your lips, he kisses you tenderly again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. While kissing you, his hands work on freeing your wrists. He sees the red marks they had left, feeling proud yet also feeling a bit bad for causing you pain. “You did so good…” He praises.

You tug his shirt up over his head and run your hands down his toned chest, still attempting to catch your breath from earlier. Then you work at his belt, tossing it aside and pulling off his pants, also tossing them aside. Now that he’s left in just his boxers, you sit up. You get Rafe to lay down where you had been. Using the same rope to tie his wrists to the bed; though you’re not too confident in your knot-tying abilities and you’re unsure if it’ll be able to contain him. 

“W-what are you doing?” He asks almost nervously. Rafe hadn’t been expecting for you to take charge of him, usually that doesn’t happen to him. He pulls against his restraints a bit, quickly finding out the pain that comes with. 

“Shh…relax, it’s fine.” You recite to him. He smirks, recognizing his own words.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He spits, trying to seem upset, although he really just thinks it’s the hottest fucking thing ever. 

You travel down his body, straddling his legs as you start to slowly pull his boxers off of him. Rafe’s hard cock springs out, shooting up into the air. You gasp at the sight. You can see why he’s always so cocky now, it’s because he’s got the means to back it up. 

Your hands find him, gently stroking his cock. Rafe’s head tips back, his eyes shutting in pleasure for a moment. Quickly, he’s watching you again, not wanting to miss the sight of this. Slowly, you put your mouth onto him. Rafe tries to remain in control by bucking his hips up off the bed, shoving his cock deep down your throat, making you gag in response. You pull off of him for a moment and he chuckles. Knowing he has a limited time with you, you don’t wait too long before sinking your mouth back down on him. As your confidence builds, so does your pace. 

“Shiiitt baby, feels so fucking good.” He groans. Already, you can feel his dick twitching in your mouth, causing him to whine. Big, tough Rafe Cameron whining underneath you, completely at your mercy. He doesn’t seem so threatening now that you’ve seen him like this. “W-wait, wait baby, wait.” He manages, his words just spilling out. He struggles against his restraints some more before continuing. “Not yet; I don’t wanna cum yet.” You understand, pulling your mouth off of him. You move to undo his restraints, his mouth finding your tits as you lean over him to untie the rope. 

The second he’s free, you’re already somehow on your back with him on top of you. Rafe leans over you and you press open-mouthed, wet kisses all across his chest as he does so. He grabs something from his nightstand and when he pulls back you can see the small, shiny wrapper in his hand. Smart, a condom. You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was probably a good idea.

You place your hands over his, taking the condom from him. As fast as you can, you open it and reach down between you two, rolling it onto his cock until it reaches the base. He leans back down on top of you, kissing your neck and jaw. He whispers, “can I?”

You respond jokingly, “that’s what you’re paying for, isn’t it?” Rafe just stares at you, his expression showing his annoyance and frustration with you. Before he asks you to ‘say it’, you add to your previous statement. “Yes, Rafe. Fuck me.”

Rafe doesn’t need any further permission as he lines himself up with your cunt. He wishes he could feel your wetness on his skin, but he knew wearing a condom was the smart thing. Slowly, he presses in. Only entering you about two inches, letting you adjust to him before adding a few more inches. Slowly; inch by inch, Rafe enters you, eventually bottoming out. Rafe stays still for a couple moments until you give him a small nod. He moves his hips slowly, rocking in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Your hands wrap around him, hooking underneath his biceps. Your palms grip onto his back, your nails only slightly digging into his skin. His pace begins to pick up, getting loud moans and whines to come from you. 

“Mmmnn…nnhhgghh f-fuuckk, Rafe!” You cry out, a tear rolling down your cheek. 

The sight of your tear only turns him on more, in a dark and twisted way. He uses his thumb to wipe away your warm, salty tear off of your cheek. 

Despite his gentle touch, Rafe is now drilling into you without regard for your poor cunt. Shamelessly fucking you with a condom on. He looks at the sticky, white mess leaking from your perfect cunt; creating a slick film that coats his entire cock. He reaches out to grab you by your hair, forcing your neck down so that you’re looking at where you and him connect, “See that? That’s all you baby.” 

When you’re greeted with the sight of his entire length buried deep inside of you, your eyes begin to roll back as your next orgasm approaches. Rafe clicks his tongue at you, pulling entirely out of you. After a few moments without him inside of you, you immediately start to pout. A whine escapes your lips, “Rafe…”, your hips buck up, as if trying to draw his attention back to your needy cunt. 

A small, cocky grin spreads across his face at the sight. His grip tightens in your hair as he begins to tug, directing your gaze right where he wants it, on him. “You gotta fuckin’ see this, baby.” Rafe says proudly, looking back down at your messy pussy. Quickly, he thrusts back into you with force and you watch as your cunt swallows him whole. “See that? See what you do for me?” Rafe speaks in a tone that sounds as though he’s praising you, but he knows that your body has no other option than to take him. “See how fuckin’ well you take me? This pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock.” 

Rafe groans, pre-cum now leaking into the condom as his pace becomes sporadic. Still going through the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm, your cunt continues to squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy f-fuck.” Rafe stutters, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing it in circles. His movements are getting sloppy, arithmetic as he tries to draw another orgasm from you before he finishes. “God fucking damn.” Rafe’s head tips back, you lean up to kiss his neck, occasionally nipping at it, your moans being muffled by him.  

Your third orgasm approaches, your entire body trembling as you shriek. “Rafe! Fuck, fuck, I-fuck!” Your screams become muted when he kisses you, shutting you up. Rafe’s own orgasm starts to creep in, his thrusts getting harder for a moment before he stills inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch, followed by the feeling of his hot cum as it fills the condom. He slowly moves, easing you both back down from your highs. Eventually, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side and laying on his back beside you. 

You work on catching your breath as you turn your head to look over at the time; you have about fifteen minutes left with him. You don’t know what he has in store for you now, he’s already succeeded in making you cum three times within forty-five minutes. While he takes a moment to rest, you decide to get on top of him. You pull off his condom, tying the end of it in a knot. Without giving him any kind of warning, you put your mouth back on him, sucking his warm, sticky seed off of his dick. One of his large hands shoots up to hold the back of your head, pushing your mouth all the way down on him. You can feel his semi-hard cock already growing harder again. 

“S-shit, babe.” He groans, pulling you up, bringing your face to his and meeting you with another kiss, as if to thank you. 

You stand up, your legs shaky. You half walk, half stumble into the adjoining bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash. You make your way back to the bed, laying next to him. You turn your head to look at him. “What else can I do for you? Time’s almost up.” You ask softly. 

Rafe huffs, pissed off that you had to remind him that this isn’t real, he’s paying for this, for you. Without a word, he flips over on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. There’s something different about him now. His eyes; they carry a bit of darkness, his movements now rough and aggressive. He squeezes your neck lightly, making you gasp in surprise. “Rafe…”

“Shhh…you’re gonna take what I give you.” He squeezes tighter, making it harder for you to breathe, but not impossible. He leans down, kissing all over your neck and chest, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. You let out a small whine involuntarily; you can feel his touch throughout your whole body, like a jolt of electricity. “Shut up, whore.” 

Suddenly, Rafe’s thrusting into you again. But wait, he’s not wearing a condom. In your surprise, this way feels so much better. You can feel the warmth and smoothness of his cock as it easily slides in and out of you, making the most lewd noises. You try to speak, but his hand tightens around your throat one final time, actually making it impossible for you to breathe. He stares into your eyes, watching as your face turns red and your panic sets in. You put your hands on his arm, hitting and tugging on it. Just as your vision starts to go dark, he eases his grip. You gasp for air, taking in as much as you can while he continues his attack on your pussy. 

You’re about to see stars again for the fourth time tonight when he suddenly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss of him, frustrated that he denied you of your orgasm. Rafe rolls off of you, making your brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck?” You question.

He looks over to the clock on his nightstand and you follow his gaze. “Time’s up.” He says plainly. You knew what he was doing. This sneaky motherfucker. He purposely got you to your climax right as the hour ended so you’d prove him right and beg for more; beg to let you cum one more time. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong and just leave, you need this, you need to feel him fill you up.

Before he can protest, you straddle his lap, sinking yourself down onto his cock. Immediately he groans, taking hold of your hips. He holds you still, not letting you move yet. “Knew you’d want more.” He says, now guiding you to grind on his dick, this new position lets him hit a new depth inside you. “M’not paying for this now.”

You don’t respond, instead using your energy to bounce up and down his length. Your climax is already near, your entire body shaking and spent from the past three orgasms he gave you. Rafe helps you out, his strong hand gripping onto you as he holds you up, drilling up into your cunt at a god-like pace. How is someone this talented, this fucking perfect, paying for sex? Surely he could get any girl he wants. Although you’re not complaining, four orgasms and a thousand dollars? How could it get any better than that? 

You yell out as the band in your stomach snaps, the pressure being relieved as a stream of your liquids squirt out of you, splashing onto his stomach, dripping down to his sheets underneath you both. You’re just as shocked as he is when this happens. You didn’t even know you could do that.

“Fuck,” Rafe growls, continuing to fuck up into your shaking body. Rafe doesn’t warn you before shooting his load into you. But the warmth and fulfillment of his seed feels too fucking good to be mad about. Slowly, you pull yourself off of him. He has to help lift you off of his cock since your body is completely spent. “You’re fucking amazing.” He presses a long, soft kiss to your head. 

After helping you clean up a bit, you change into your own clothes. Rafe drives you back to the club, the ride awfully quiet, both of you being too exhausted to talk. When you get there, he pulls his wallet out, grabbing out a large wad of cash and handing it to you. You quickly count it, and then recount it, when your results don’t change, you look up at him with furrowed brows. “That’s for being so fucking good.” Rafe had given you two thousand instead of one. This boosts your confidence a bit, an hour of sex with you is worth two thousand dollars? God, you should’ve fucked Rafe sooner. You get out of his truck and walk towards the club. Rafe speeds off out of the parking lot. 

It’s late, but Barry’s still here, though the crowd has definitely shrunken in the last hour. You walk in and find Barry in the back room. He laughs as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair and makeup are disastrous. 

“Looks like someone had a good time, huh? Now where’s my money?” He asks. You pull out the cash, counting 500 and tossing it to him. 

“There. That’s seventy-five percent of what I made.” You start to walk out. But his voice calls you back.

“Shit, you made two thousand in one hour just for fuckin’ him? You got some magic fuckin’ pussy or sum?” He laughs. “I might have to start sellin’ you out more, don’t I?”

Too tired to argue, you walk out. You don’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t hate having to do that again with Rafe, whether it’s paid or unpaid.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

[hwallazia]

XMAS DINNER GOES WRONG – 정우영

⋆ synopsis. it seems like your husband can’t keep it in his pants, not even on a fucking christmas dinner with his family. but, as the lovely wifey you are, you gotta give him some relief, right?

pairing. husband! jung wooyoung & fem! reader.

wc. 3,2k

warnings. smut (mdni!), suggestive language, cussing, almost!! getting caught by wooyoung’s mom (oops), pet names (love, babe, my wife, pretty girl & more), nipple play, wooyoung sucks your entire skin (neck, collarbone, tits and the list can continue…), teasing, wooyoung tears your panties to shreds heh, not dirty—NASTY TALK, begging, yn at some point says “stop” but it’s bc she’s far too blissed out; not bc she actually wanted him to stop, this is alllll consensual!!, unprotected sex, praise ofc, squirting, gut-wrenching fluff in the end ‘cause love him too much.

nic’s notes ⋆ first ff of the xmas event yes sir !! i felt some shit writing this istg (๑/////๑ " )

you know holidays, right?

the perfect opportunity for the entire family to gather and celebrate achievements, blessings, and thousands and thousands of other things. cousins, nephews, aunts, uncles, and even great-grandparents were reunited in that cold and windy winter night. an entire feast was splayed on the table for everyone’s delightfulness, different kinds of foods and smells mixing and creating a delicious, toe-curling experience for anyone’s nostrils.

the hours you had spent shopping for every ingredient for each dish, cutting the vegetables, cooking everything to the exact, perfect point and term really paid off once your and your husband’s family were brought together at the large, dark oak table to celebrate your very first holiday — both families now joined together as one.

nothing could go wrong. the chatting flew as calm and joyful as spring water, sharing experiences and old memories pleasingly, smiles spread like the most enchanting disease—as well as the wholesome ambience, and everything was accompanied by a delightful meal, the well-deserved five star bonus of the evening.

so, if everything was meant to go perfectly, then why the hell was your husband staring at you with the most explicit, sluttiest “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen?

wooyoung sat in front of you, his two cousins sitting each on his sides. his plate was rather full, and that had an explanation: he was far too gone and busy burying heart-shaped daggers into your eyes while his hand cupped his cheek, head tilting to his right — his tongue glided over his dry bottom lip every now and then. you’d bet that none of his thoughts were in the bible. ‘cause fuck, even his younger brother would guess that something’s odd about him. that that’s not the usual behavior of his dear older brother.

“yn? darling?” the voice of wooyoung’s mother dragged out quickly of your insulation bubble. her tilted head clearly showed that she had been trying to talk to you for a while. a soft, warming hue of red struck your cheekbones.

as you gyrated your head to meet her worried gaze, you replied. “yes! mrs. jung, ‘m sorry. what were you saying?”

“are you doing fine, sweetie? you were gone for a bit.” she stared at you intently, genuinely worried about her daughter in-law. oh that woman was almost a fallen angel—if not one. if only she knew it was his own son who was to blame—the very last person she’d suspect, and oh, how deliciously ironic that was.

the figure of your husband’s shit-eating grin could be seen out of the corner of your eye—a sight that ignited a fiery rage within you, yet one you couldn’t help but savor, lingering on the view as long as possible before responding to your sweet mother-in-law. “oh, it was nothing. i’m prolly just zoning out because of how tired i am. y’ know, spending the entire day in the kitchen was exhausting.” the cherry on top of the excuse was the little, innocent giggle you emitted by the end. the woman gave you the most pitiful, yet endearing look. she lifted her arm, indicating with her open palm the white stairs, the reflection of the christmas-decorated banister lighting up her eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. you should go rest, it’s pretty late after all.” her gesture softened your heart, chest clenching a bit.

this woman was going to be the death of you! … uhm, never mind. first place is taken by wooyoung, who seems quite excited with the idea of going upstairs with you, by the way. take a guess at what his mind is scheming.

you shook your hands in front of your chest, quickly denying the opportunity. “thank you really, but i’m okay. i’ll just go wash my face.” you excused yourself, hovering your leg over the other and getting yourself up. “maybe that way i can wake up completely.” ending with a little giggle, you started walking towards the staircase when suddenly, the voice of your dear husband rang inside your ears.

“excuse me. i’ll go help my wife.” his foxy eyes curved into crescent moons, and his lips stretched wide, forming an upward line. oh fuck, you were done for.

“oh yes, i was about to ask you to do the same. please, son.” she stated, nodding approvingly. oh what a gentleman she had raised.

you resumed your steps quickly, arriving to the second floor in less than you expected. you turned your head, only to be met with an empty corridor. thank goodness he hadn’t gotten there yet.

or so you thought. ‘cause when you refocused your attention to your front, a pair of arms grabbed you by your waist and swung you around the air in a swift motion as he dragged you to an empty room. the last sound heard in the corridor was the slam of a closing door.

your breathless body was pinned against a cold wall, trapped between two quite familiar, tanned arms. simultaneously, your disoriented irises tried to adjust to the darkness of the room and focus on the feverish, hungry eyes standing in front of you.

“wh… what the fuck was that.” you muttered as the remains of your breath flew away. wooyoung seemed enchanted by your current state though.

“heeey, don’t curse at me like that.” his gentle, cocky voice penetrated your mind like a bullet. knuckles crept up the sides of your exposed arms, providing soothing strokes — goosebumps prickled to life in response. he opened his warm palms and reached to your also bare shoulder, massaging them. “after all, ’m jus’ here to help you.” he pulled his secret weapon and started making out with your neck, licking your flesh like a starving man and spreading wet kisses all over it.

“help me? how are you helping me like this?” you uttered as your breath hitched, head leaning to the side at the right angle to give him enough space.

wooyoung sucked that sensitive spot that always made your eyes roll to the very back of your head, dragging a whine out of you successfully. his chuckle and victorious smirk didn’t go unseen by your already blissed-out self. he leaned back a little to admire you. just for a bit, palms not leaving their place. “you’ll know when we’re done.” his hands moved in a swift motion, arms wrapping around your thighs and shoulders, lifting you effortlessly in a princess carry. “for now, just shut up and enjoy it, hm?”

“w-wooyoung—you know we can’t do this now— angh!” your anxious, flustered self made a futile attempt to reason with wooyoung, hoping he’d remember that both your families were gathered downstairs for a fucking christmas dinner—while he, entirely unbothered, seemed more than eager to spend the evening thoroughly ruining you in the bed just one floor above. and that was clearly shown when he threw you to the bed as if you were the lightest feather and immediately crawled to you.

“c’mon, love. i just wanna help you stay awake” his gravelly voice purred gift next to your ear as his taunting hands played with the sides of your dress, fingertips aching and itching to rip it off you.

he had you underneath him, completely flustered and nervous. he knew you were really anxious about the dinner—you’d spent a whole hour straight ranting about how nerve-wracking the preparations were, only to end up feeling physically ill from the overwhelming surge of dopamine flooding your system. but your reddened cheeks were smiling at him and your plump lips were whispering nasty things to him. holy fuck, how couldn’t he be tempted?

he needed to be balls deep in you. now.

his skillful tongue found home in your neck and collarbone, sucking cute love bites all over. but, your body was still tense, too uneasy at the thought of the possible scenario of someone entering the room and catching the two of you in such a compromising position.

“b-babe, please—hmph”

in a sultry tone, he muttered, “already begging. so fucking cute.” a smirk was drawn on his lips before his hands reached to your cleavage and popped your tits out of your low-cut dress. “y’ want me to fuck you? ‘s that what it is?”

before you could even think of an answer, he dived right into your breasts, licking your sensitive nipples as though they were his favorite toy — because they absolutely were.

god, the incessant thoughts that ran through your head and his tongue lapping around your buds were too much. everything was starting to be too much, and he hadn’t even taken your clothes off. with heightened sensitivity, your lips fell open and a beautiful, sweet melody of your moans and whimpers escaped through them — a delightful melody for your husband’s ears.

impatient hands stripped you of your glittery dress, leaving you with nothing but your black, thin panties. wooyoung took a moment for himself — well, more accurately for you, to admire and revel in your beauty as he should. a rush of blood surged to his cock, making it throb even harder than before. he was no more than a man, overwhelmed by desire. “you’re fucking irresistible, y’ know that?” he started down to where your and his crotch connected, brows furrowing when he saw your clothed pussy. “i think it’s time for this to go.”

a sharp rrrrrip! bounced through the walls and brought your attention. “woo did you just—?!” you followed the movement of his hands, which discarded the shreds of black fabric to the floor. “that was my—! hahh” and his thumb flew right to your already swollen clit, stimulating it with circling motions.

“why’re you whining when you know i’ll buy you ten more pairs,” he whispered as he soaked in the unsteady shiftiness of your body — and for that, he posed a strong yet harmless grip on your waist. his fat thumb worked nonstop over your bud, sending sparks right to it. your body jolted upward at the feeling of his middle and index fingers tracing soft lines up your pink folds. the sight of your walls clenching and relaxing around nothing spun him. “ooh, what a greedy wifey i got.” he chuckled under his breath, gaze stuck to his home — and i mean your cunt. “sooo desperate for my fingers, huh?”

at this point, any sense or unsteady thought had already vanished away, completely replaced by a selfish state of mind. you wanted him to finger you, fuck you, drive you insane. and you wanted it right fucking now. and so you mewled, “god, please just do something.”

“got the name wrong, darling.” and with that, he pushed two fingers at once inside your fluttering walls, tugging a satisfied moan out of you. “it’s wooyoung. or hubby” he giggled. he fucking giggled as he rammed those fingers mercilessly, shooting stars and fireworks filling your vision.

“w-wait stop— baby, please— fffuck!” stuttering words and incoherent gibberish spilled from your swollen lips, too red and slick from how often and harshly you’d bitten them; eyes welling up with tears from the intense pleasure overload.

“stop?” a chuckle rumbled through his chest. “fine then” he withdrew his long phalanges, leaving you empty. completely fucking empty, with velvety and throbbing walls already missing him. you cried as you felt the void of your pulsating pussy, but before you could coax a desperate “please” from your lips, wooyoung grabbed you by the waist. you gasped, as he manhandled you, positioning you on top, naked folds grazing his clothed sex.

you pouted and wooyoung laughed. he was finding this shit way too funny. “since you so nicely begged me to stop, then put your back into it, mm?” a loud smack! reverberated through the walls as his heavy palm landed on the flesh of your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”

and did he have to tell you twice. desperate, shuddering hands worked on his dress pants, quickly undoing his belt and zipping it down just enough to uncover his rock-hard bulge. you grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled it down as well, his cock springing finally free. with a smooth movement, you took his member and positioned it below you. and just before you sit down on him completely, someone knocked on the fucking door.

the surprise caused you to jolt and lose control, sinking in a faster and sloppier motion than you intended — a loud cry resonating through the thin walls the moment his tip kissed your cervix perfectly. with eyes wide open, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for being so fucking noisy and sensitive and—

“yn? are you in here?” the muffled voice of wooyoung’s mother echoed from the other side of the door.

shit shit shit.

“y-yes, ma’am! i… ’m kinda busy over in here—ugh!” you tried to speak as loud and clear as you could, but wooyoung seemed to be unbothered by your efforts since he grabbed your hips and started swaying your core up and down his girth. up, down, up, down.

you stared at your husband with glaring eyes, stabbing knives into his. fuck, did this man even care about being heard by his own mother? now, with all doubts gone, you’re certain you’ve married a freak.

“are you okay, sweetie? what’s going on over there?”

and you swear you heard the door creaking open, so you exclaimed. “no! everything’s fine!” you yelped, your voice higher-pitched than you intended. “please don’t come in.”

wooyoung chuckled underneath you, soaking in the sight of your nervous self trying to mute your cries as your tits bounced right on his face. he could die right there and then and he’d be happy. “what’s wrong, baby? can’t take it?” he whispered as he gazed directly into your tightly scrunched eyes, your partially open mouth releasing nothing more but silent cries and pleas.

“fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you hushed soundlessly, yet willingly bouncing up and down his length. the low, manly giggle he uttered spun you. fuck, he had you wrapped up around his finger.

“oookay? uhm, do you know where my son is? is he there with you?”

he grinned. that shit-eating grin you hated so damn much appeared all across his face. “c’mon pretty, tell her the truth. tell her how good i’m fucking you, how good you’re taking my cock, hm?” he growled into your ear, his voice low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. the sound was intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and turning your mind into mush.

your throbbing walls clenched around him subconsciously, his head rocking back in reaction. “he’s… he’s here with me, h-helping me like he said he would.”

wooyoung seemed utterly satisfied by your answer, his grin only spreading wider. “that’s my wife. so beautiful.”

“perfect then! i’ll see you in a bit then.” after those words, no other sound was heard — other than the wet clapping of your flesh against his hips.

“‘s she gone?” your half-lidded eyes stared down at your husband, who was hugging you by the waist, face deeply buried in your bobbing, soft tits. your hands flew to the back of his head, cupping his neck whilst caressing his raven hair fondly. at your words, his head lifted, and took a glance at your divine expression.

“baby, i didn’t care, not even a second, if she was hearing or not.” his intoxicating, dark irises sent love letters to yours, utterly drunk in love. “i jus’ wanna cum inside your sweet pussy.”

skillful fingers crept to your hardened, overstimulated nipples and all the way down where your bodies collided, positioning right on your clit. his left hand stroked your firm nipple and played with one breast, letting wooyoung’s tongue take care of the other whilst his right hand shifted rapidly over your bundle of nerves.

he fell in love with you again as he saw your back arching into a perfect crescent moon. “good girl.” your loud whines and moans only encouraged him to keep going. “so responsive to me.” he exhaled breathlessly. “fuck, are you about to cum, baby?”

“y-yeah, fuck— woo, i-i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fucking cum” you yelped as your bounces became sloppier, more desperate and more reckless. wooyoung motivated you by whispering sweet things and heart-melting praises right into your ear.

“cum, baby. cum for me, milk me dry.” and with one last bounce, you sprayed your juices all over him, soaking his pants and white shirt even more.

exasperated grunts and exhales left your husband’s mouth at the sensation of your folds clamping down on him — you definitely understood the assignment of milking him dry. ‘cause your pussy received the hot ropes of cum that his dick spurted out with great pleasure, sucking the life out of his poor, now softened length.

you crumbled down on him, your weakened core landing on top of him with his dick still inside you. your head found home in the crook of his neck as his hand reached to your back, wrapping your waist safely whilst the other provided soothing ministrations to your face. with your last ounce of strength, you pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, an even warming sensation drowning the both of you.

“fuck” was all you could mutter. “how’re we going to get back there, they’re waiting for us.”

wooyoung hummed thoughtfully, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and brushing against your skin. “we could pretend we fell asleep. with that, they shouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“hey that’s actually a great id—“

the door creaked open and your bodies jerked softly. the both of you knew exactly what to do, so your eyes flew shut. wooyoung even started snoring quietly to add a spec of realism to the scene.

the sound of your mothers’ voice echoed through your ears. “she said wooyoung was helping… her” wooyoung’s mom immediately lowered her voice as she took in the scene. an almost soundless aww escaped your mom’s lips.

“well sure he was helping her.” your mother sighed at the wholesome moment she had the luck of appreciating.

“i think he was massaging her. ‘cause when i knocked on the door, i could hear like— muffled sounds, that seemed like moans.” she stated, and you froze in place — well, not like you could move an inch. “at first i was confused, but then she clarified that wooyoung-ah was helping her “like he said he would”” she remarked your words as if she had studied them.

“oh i see.” your mother spoke. “i think we should let them sleep. my poor yn had a long day.”

and with that, the door shut closed with a soft click.

wooyoung giggled under the covers as your face burned from the embarrassment.

“massaging? well, that’s a way to put it.”

“wooyoung, babe, as much as i love you, please shut the fuck up.”

he laughed wholeheartedly, a gut-wrenching sound that never fails to make you smile. “you embarrassed, my love?”

you slapped your open palm against his exposed chest as you whined. “stoppp.”

his small, soft giggle buzzed inside your eardrums before he left on the top of your head a kiss full of fondness and affection. “cutie.”

| masterlist

[nachojaehyun]

like a part 2 where the reader just keeps on acting nonchalant like nothing happened and wonwoo gets more and more riled up. cause “why am i the only one going insane here” type of feelings. and he just ends up taking here in a dressing room or something cause damn they need to fuck

she’ll ride the dick like a carnival

pairing. idol! wonwoo + new staff! fem reader!

summary. since that one fateful night at his apartment, jeon wonwoo realizes that he is fucked. but not really, since he can’t seem to get you in his bed.

warnings. [PLEASE READ] dom/sub dynamics, slight dom wonwoo, dirty talk, use of nicknames, THICK dick and lowkey desperate wonu, reader is VERY nonchalant, implied mirror sex, riding, wonu almost cries… AGAIN, sloppy kisses on the tits, subtle jizz play — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. desperate sex that turns steamy and passionate is my favorite genre holy shit 😭 first time answering an ask! hope you like it :)

find part 1 here

jeon wonwoo could only watch you from across the waiting room as you pranced around in a midi skirt, chatting happily with the staff.

he wanted to cuss you out.

shifting in his chair, he pushed his glasses further up his nose, angrily sniffing.

how could you act like this?

how were you so nonchalant? so unbothered about the fact that you had him seeing stars merely 72 hours ago?

it had been 3 days since you had sucked the soul out of his body. 3 days since he couldn’t stop rutting his cock into his fist to the thoughts of you. 3 days since he had become insane.

he tried to get your attention, he really did. the poor boy would keep trying to pry anything out of your mouth that gave him a hint about your feelings.

but you were unpredictable, just as he had thought.

your face was like a wall — completely emotionless. any thought that passed through your head could barely be understood and wonwoo wanted to smash his head into the concrete at that realization.

“jeez, what’s got you this tense?” mingyu sits down next to him, adjusting his costume as he stared at his best friend. “i’m just… worried about the performance, nothing else.”

mingyu knew that wonwoo was lying.

hell, even wonwoo knew he was lying.

but none of them seemed to question each other as they sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts.

“wonwoo-ssi?” your voice called out to him. the boy singled out you and your sound amid nearly 50 people in the room, surprisingly springing to his feet as he walked towards you.

“your outfit is ready, follow me.”

the man silently walked behind you, striding toward the secluded attached room in the corner.

he pulled the curtain and stepped inside, and he was immediately handed his clothes. the outfit was simple— a sleeveless shirt and some baggy white jeans.

“i’ll be outside,” you nodded, bidding him farewell as you pulled the curtain.

sighing, wonwoo turned to look at himself in the mirror. his hardened cock stared at him in the face— a haunting image of the effect you had on him.

how am i the only one who is this riled up? he wondered. i can’t be the only one… right?

he wasn’t.

you would be lying if you said your panties weren’t glued to your core since you walked in. the sight of him had your head spinning, wanting nothing more than to strip him down and pull his dick into your throat.

but of course, you were not some depraved whore.

you set boundaries after that night. he was your client, and you were his stylist. of course you weren’t supposed to suck him off!

the fitting next morning after the incident had made you lose your self control. you recall how you had to get yourself off in the bathroom, relishing in the thoughts of seeing wonwoo in a tight fitted suit.

but of course, you would never voice these thoughts out loud. being in the same room as him was punishment enough to remind you of your sins. you wondered if applying for a styling job for a different member would work—

“uh?” wonwoo’s deep voice cut off your lewd thoughts, making you shake your head to clear them out. “a little help?”

“you good?" you sighed. “i’m coming in,” sucking in a breath as you stepped inside the small box.

wonwoo was leaning against one of the mirrored walls, one leg up on a stool in the corner. “what’s wrong?” you searched for a solution in his face.

“i seem to be stuck in a seemingly hard situation.”

one look down to his hands, you immediately realized the problem.

wonwoo’s dick was hard, the bulge over his boxers made that evident. the problem? the sheer size of his chub was not allowing the zipper of his jeans to zip up.

the man had a small waist but also had weirdly broad hips. his pants always had to be altered so that they suited his body type.

however, this was a problem that no other stylist had ever had to deal with.

“what do i do?” wonwoo whined, pouting his lips as he pushed up his glasses.

“wonwoo-ssi,” you spoke. your voice remained surprisingly stable, despite the fact that you could feel your pussy pulsating.

“i think you need to solve this problem on your own,” you looked into his eyes, almost feeling bad at how he panted.

however, before you could turn around and leave, wonwoo pushed his glasses up his nose and caged you between his arms.

your back hit one of the mirrored walls, as a surprised gasp fumbled from your mouth.

“wonw—”

“for the love of god woman, do you not see what you do to me?”

the desperation in his voice made your knees buckle as you stared into his eyes, gaze alternating to his lips as he bit them.

wonwoo heaved as he inched closer towards your face. “give me one good reason why you shouldn’t take care of my problem. you’re the one that caused it after all.”

hearing him voice out his thoughts, you turned your head to the side, embarrassed by the effect his voice had on you. how was this even your fault—

but with a harsh grip, jeon wonwoo grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing to you look at him.

“can’t think of anything can you?” his head dipped down, tracing his teeth along your neck. the sensation made you hiss silently. “help me, please. what would carat think if i went out on stage looking like this?”

“sit,” is all you managed to say, voice enamoured with need.

you all but pushed wonwoo onto the iron stool in the corner, hauling yourself onto his lap as you crashed your lips into his.

fuck, your lips were way better than he had ever imagined. they were soft and pillowy as they engulfed his mouth, tongue grazing against his own as you ground down on his crotch.

wonwoo’s free hand pushed your head impossibly close as he licked into your mouth, wanting to memorize every crevice.

spit dribbles from your connected mouths, sloppy and wet kisses sounding obscenely loud in the secluded area. the man does not care that drool is now staining his tank top. he could never get enough of this.

his other hand gripped tightly onto your ass, groping and fondling the fat. after a second, he pulled away from you, glasses foggy and lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath.

“shit baby, i can’t take it anymore,” he whisper-screamed, tears coating his lashes. you wished you could burn this image into your head for the rest of your life.

you could only nod, ready to sink to your knees before wonwoo stopped you, tutting. “pull your panties to the side, doll,” he commanded, chest heaving.

the change in his tone had your thighs tingling. you pulled your midi skirt up, tucking the ends into the hem as you exposed yourself.

at the sight of your baby blue cotton panties, jeon wonwoo nearly growled.

the material was thoroughly soaked and ruined, a deep blue patch staining the cloth. as you pulled them to the side, he noticed how slicked up your heat was, a string of arousal connected your folds to the cotton.

you gripped onto his shoulders for support in your half-sitting position as he glided two fingers against your folds.

“so wet for me already, huh? don’t even need to work you up for my cock,” he smacked his lips. “filthy girl.”

wonwoo strained his ears to listen for any footsteps near the area as he sucked his dampened fingers into his mouth. your taste was making him dizzy, breath faltering as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head.

without wasting any more time, you pulled his cock out of its confines, sliding his boxers down just enough to free his length.

the sight of him always made you salivate. however, it was clear that he didn’t want that happening today.

steadily, you positioned yourself over him, hovering before you finally pushed his fat tip in.

the sensation had you moaning out loud— before he slapped his hand over your mouth. “shh! don’t be so loud baby, they will hear us,” he cooed.

you nodded frantically, slowly inching downwards as his dick began to fill you up. once he was bottomed out, you couldn’t help but sob into his palm.

“i know baby, i know. feels good yeah?” he smirked, shushing you with sweet words as he let you adjust to his size.

wonwoo’s thick dick was buried up to your hilt, and you felt so incredibly full. your poor walls clenched around his cock, nearly making him bust.

without a word, the man beneath you grabbed at your waist, moving you up and down on his length, slowly. with him pistoning in and out of you, you could feel your senses going into overdrive.

wonwoo tugged your top down with his teeth, suckling along the valley of your breasts to keep himself quiet. your pussy felt incredibly tight, creaming him for all he was worth.

his strong arms continued to guide you, until your legs automatically adjusted to the pace. your body began to move on its own accord— tits jiggling in wonwoo's mouth with each bounce.

"f-fuck!" you whimpered, beginning to lose your mind. for a moment, he looks up at you through his glasses, smiling widely from between your breasts.

the bastard's cheeky grin has you forgetting your own name as he lapped his tongue around your skin like he fucking owned it.

"already going dumb on my cock? shi— you ride so well baby."

your bounces show him just how stretched you were, making wonwoo's stomach clench as he split you apart. you tease him a little by slowing down, grinding down on him as he bites his lips and throws his head back.

as his hands grab onto your cheeks to spread them, he accidentally catches a glimpse of your back in the mirror opposite to you two.

god, you looked so fucking hot.

without knowing why, you felt him twitch inside. "not gonna— oh shit! — last very long now baby."

at the sound of his confession, you bring a hand down to rub at your clit. taking the hint, he begins to rut back into you, using all his strength to fuck into your heat.

"p—please wonwoo hah! cum inside, please please please,"

you're not sure why you beg, but you're too cock drunk to process anything but the fact that you want him filling you up, stuffing your cunt full with his release.

"you su— fuck fuck fuck—" wonwoo whispers, biting down on your right tit to subdue the moan that was about to leave his throat.

with that and a grunt, he cums inside your pussy, filling you up to the brim. his length twitches inside you, shooting out excess spurts. feeling himself soften, wonwoo pulls out of you. you whine at the sudden sensation of feeling so empty.

the boy stays mesmerized at the way your cum mixes together, escaping your spent hole in small globs.

as a pathetic attempt, he uses two fingers to plug the release back inside you, making you whimper again at the sudden intrusion. "sorry," he apologizes, before placing your panties back where they belonged.

with a fluid motion, jeon wonwoo tucks himself back into his calvin klein boxers and then zipping his pants up, meeting your dazed eyes with another cute smile. "see? it fits now."

you can’t help but smile back at him, panting to catch your breath.

your thighs hurt from the awkward position, but you were sure that you would never have it any other way.

so, that's how you end up walking around the rest of the working day— wonwoo's cum safely filled up inside you, as you and him exchanged comically wide-eyed looks every few minutes, a shade of pink grazing your cheeks.

© nachojaehyun, 2024.

[coffee-and-geto]

“YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M HUNGRY!”

“Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.” “Hot, hot?” “Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?” You snort. “And so full of yourself.”

pairing: werewolf! satoru gojo x f!reader | kinkoctober

summary: since you were kid, you’ve been friends with satoru gojo. having grown up in the same village, it’s perfectly normal to meet up, laugh in front of a campfire and reminisce about the good old days, isn’t it? not the place or the time to confess your true nature, hmm?

warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, childhood friends to lovers, both lived in a small village, firecamp mood, sex (p in v), fingering (f!receiving), doggy style, handjob, bredding kink, full moon, nipple play, dirty talk, talking about being parents, fluff, (if you wanna picture werewolf like it’s same as jacob in twilight).

wc: 3,568

“I’m a werewolf.”

Those words, whispered in the silent night — or almost silent. Unless you count the cicadas’ songs that break the inaudible, sacred stillness of the dark. Under a sky where stars shimmer and the village campfire is the main source of light, casting a fiery glow in Satoru's eyes as he looks at you.

The dry, earthy ground, the scent of pine trees, roasted marshmallows, and the laughter of other young villagers — all back for the famous autumn full moon.

And you, sitting beside your childhood friend — Satoru Gojo.

Who utters words you never thought you’d hear from him, whispered without a care about being overheard. His azure gaze fixed on yours, as though searching the depths of your soul for any reaction besides your obvious shock.

With his hands pressed against the dry ground, his long legs stretched out, his torso turned toward you — every ounce of his attention captivated by you and only you.

As it always has been, hasn’t it?

And out of all the things he could have confessed, this declaration is what passes through his lips, cutting short your laughter and turning it into a gasp.

Then nothing. Silence.

“You— Satoru, what?”

And oh, how he could have fallen for that little frown of yours, so confused, so lost, so utterly adorable.

But he doesn’t repeat his words. He just watches you, lips flat but eyes replacing the smile you knew so well. The glow of the flames licking the campfire’s wood casts orange hues across his face like a phantom’s shadow.

Swallowing hard at his lack of reaction, you glance around, disoriented — your village, your family, your friends, your neighbors. No one seems the least bit troubled, nor does it seem like they’re paying attention to your conversation.

“Sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your panicked heart swell, and Satoru gently anticipates your next move. His rough, warm hand rests over yours, silently asking you not to worry.

“I always thought you’d figure it out on your own one day,” he murmurs.

“What do you mean?” you reply, and he can’t help but chuckle — a low, rumbling sound that almost seems wolfish.

“All the stories since we were kids.” He pauses, giving you time to process. “Our parents told us, and it’s also the history of the village.”

“A story is just a story, Satoru.” You pull your hand from his and prepare to stand up.

Enough with the tasteless jokes.

“This isn’t funny.” And his little heart breaks, because he hates the annoyed tone you take, though he still tries to salvage the situation.

Why the hell did he blurt it out like that?

“Wait, sweetheart,” Satoru pleads, his voice low and husky. His large, warm hand gently catches yours, urging you to sit back down. But as you persist in pulling away, he ends up confessing in desperation, “Am I disgusting to you?”

This time, it’s not the night’s silence that overwhelms you but Satoru’s puppy-dog eyes. Like he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him forever.

“Disgusting? Satoru…” You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “You know I hate your jokes, and—”

“I’m not lying.” He presses his hand desperately over yours, tugging slightly to make you sit down again. “Do you want me to show you?”

Your eyes widen. “Excuse me? Here? In front of everyone?”

“Everyone already knows. You’re the only one blind to it,” Satoru breathes, standing gracefully without ever letting go of your hand.

“What are you even talking about? And where are you taking me?” you protest, stiffening your legs so he won’t drag you away. But he only chuckles softly, turns toward you, and suddenly hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (yes, really — nothing more, nothing less).

Only a chuckle answers your protests as you weakly pound your fists against his perfectly sculpted back under his white t-shirt, hiding so much more beneath.

“Satoru fucking Gojo!”

“Hmm, so Satoru is gay and he fucks Gojo?” He bursts into laughter at his own joke, tightening his grip to keep you from falling as he carries you further into the forest of tall pines that have watched you both grow up.

Yet you persist, thrashing about to make him let go — but in vain.

He walks surprisingly fast, as if guided by some instinct, knowing exactly where he’s going. Or maybe he’s been here countless times when you weren’t around — or when you were asleep?

When he finally stops, Satoru carefully sets you down and presses his lips together to stifle his laughter at the sight of your disheveled hair and utterly defeated expression.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you turn your back on him, trying to fix your hair. Your gaze lands on the river running through the forest, its surface shimmering under the moonlight tonight.

Lips press a kiss to your cheek, and you shove Satoru away as he laughs, delighted by your tomato-red face.

“Stop it.” You punch his chest, though he doesn’t budge an inch.

It’s like hitting solid concrete — only slightly softer.

He takes advantage of your moment of confusion to step back and peel off his t-shirt, revealing his muscular chest, pale skin, and far-too-defined V-line.

Your eyes dart away from the sight he’s offering, one even the moon seems to embellish with its rays. But then the sound of a belt buckle clicking open makes your eyes widen.

“Satoru, don’t you dare—”

“Relax, I just don’t want to tear my clothes while transforming. How else am I supposed to get back home after?” He chuckles, giving you time to turn around and offer him some privacy.

You can feel his damned smirk, but you swallow down yet another sharp retort.

It’s always been like this with him. He’d tease you, you’d say you didn’t like it, and then chase him around while convincing yourself it wasn’t funny  —  ignoring the laughter that always bubbled in your chest.

At school, it was the same story. You were practically glued to each other, one always with the other. A constant war between two friends competing over anything and everything. Who would leave the haunted house first, who would blink first, or who could sleep without a nightlight after yet another story about the village’s werewolves.

Since you were kids, you hardly ever kept secrets from one another.

So why does this unpleasant sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing behind you feel both so new and so familiar?

Has Satoru always carried this secret within himself when you spent your evenings together watching movies? Had he tried to tell you, leaving hints for you to eventually uncover the truth?

All those times he managed to climb impossible places no ordinary human could, or when he walked past you and, with one sniff, could tell if you’d changed shampoo?

Or how he seemed to turn into your personal bodyguard at least once a month, and anyone who dared hurt you ended up with a broken limb?

Since middle school, he had always seemed more mature despite his jokester nature. And his physique — how drastically it had changed when he turned 18. If it hadn’t been for the Satoru you knew, you would never have guessed that back then, he was just a young adult.

And now in college, the two of you seemed like proper adults.

Real, young adults, still friends.

Even if kissing your friend on the cheek isn’t exactly common?

Even if sleeping in the same bed with nothing but cuddles and hugs isn’t normal?

Even if you’d both seen each other practically naked under the right circumstances without either of you daring to ogle the other?

A bark snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn around with a start.

Standing before you is a massive wolf-dog with snow-white fur tinged with silvery hues, and cerulean blue eyes piercing through the forest's shadowy darkness.

You freeze in place, staring at the creature before you. It is both majestic and terrifying.

“Satoru?”

The white wolf barks and rushes toward you, affectionately nuzzling his nose against your stomach before moving up to lick your chin. If it weren’t for his sheer size, he might’ve been mistaken for a puppy.

A tender smile spreads across your lips, and you stroke Satoru’s head, his fur so soft and cool you can’t resist planting a small kiss on it.

“You’re gorgeous.” Another kiss on his snout earns a bark that sounds like joy. “And so cute, and so big, I’d hold you like a plushie all the time if I could.”

He lets out a soft growl against you, lifting his front paws to rest them on your shoulders. In the background, his bushy white tail wags happily.

You cup his face in your hands, noticing the glint of his sharp teeth as he opens his mouth slightly.

“You’re not scary,” you coo, kissing the top of his head, and he squeals in appreciation. “And you’re not disgusting at all, I swear.”

He barks happily once more before bounding away, running around wildly before stopping to howl at the moon.

The sound is so powerful that a shiver runs down your spine.

~~~~

Back in the village, Satoru is already back in his normal form, and you scream in terror when you find him standing completely naked in front of you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips before he puts on the clothes he had tossed onto a fallen tree trunk.

No one seems to notice that you’ve just witnessed a werewolf transformation. According to Satoru, it’s simply because you haven’t realized that nearly half the male population of the village shares the same condition.

On this full moon night, new werewolves are being initiated, others are transforming just for fun like Satoru (since it’s the only time he can do it freely without going mad for the rest of the month while waiting for the next full moon), while some are engaging in reproduction.

Because, as he tells you, a full moon means mating season for werewolves.

But tired of it all, you head back home, with Satoru following closely behind—where no one will return for quite some time.

You collapse onto your bed, immediately curling up under the blanket before scooting over to make space for Satoru.

He doesn’t waste any time.

He slides in beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you to warm you with his naturally higher-than-average body temperature.

“You’re going to be useful in the winter,” you giggle, closing your eyes with a smile, your back pressed firmly against Satoru’s warm chest.

“I’m pretty hot, huh?” he murmurs into your hair, placing a welcome kiss there. No need to wonder what he means anymore, right?

“Mh-hmm,” you hum. “Like a warm comforter.”

Satoru frowns. “Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.”

“Hot, hot?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?”

You snort. “And so full of yourself.”

His embrace tightens around you, and he grazes his lips against the shell of your ear. “Am I?”

“Admit that you aren’t just hot in both ways,” you mutter.

“Because there is a third?” he asks, his breath tickling you.

“Don’t act innocent.”

He settles his head fully onto the pillow, the moonlight filtering through your window caressing his flawless face. “Never said I was.”

And he chuckles when you huff.

Then he returns to his original position, pulling you closer to his chest before gently running his hand along your forearm. His touch is warm, inviting, mischievous—yet affectionate, asking for nothing but a little more closeness.

You sigh, closing your eyes, slightly parting your lips as you let the back of your head rest against his neck.

He takes advantage of your vulnerable position, sliding his arm around your waist and closing any remaining space between you. His thumb traces slow, soft, patient circles over your stomach. Each motion makes you crave more.

So you shift slightly, freeing your torso to give him access to your neck, where his warm, steady breath teases your skin. He must feel it by now—the way your heart races in your chest, how your breathing grows quicker, shallower.

And Satoru, in his sly delight, doesn’t react more than you desire.

He simply lowers his nose to the hollow of your neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your skin, resisting the primal urge to claim you as his. To mark you as his own.

So you move again, giving him full access to mark your bare neck or shoulder, your ass pressed firmly against him, wriggling just a bit to adjust—or perhaps not.

Satoru presses his lips together as he feels a surge and a quickening heartbeat in his pants, blood rushing to the area. Giving in, he sinks his mouth onto your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses, the wet, noisy sounds of his lips against your skin sending shivers of pleasure through you.

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, guiding one of his large hands to your breast. Your back arches so deliciously against him as he cups the soft mound in his palm.

Between the kisses that turn into hickeys along your trapezius and his hands kneading your breast, teasing your hard nipples, you reach for his other hand with a soft whimper and guide it under your shorts.

He doesn’t waste a second, his already warm hand finding its way to your already puffy clit. He rubs slow, torturous circles, spreading your wetness over it to make things easier. You are now reduced to shallow pants and lewd, adorable noises.

“F-Fuck, Toru,” you whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he murmurs, toying with your intimate area, using his middle finger to spread your lower lips and gently pat your drenched entrance, the tight little ring of resistance testing his patience. “Will you let me take care of you?”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you moan his name again when he breaches the soft, wet resistance of your entrance. His middle finger slips inside you, gently parting your walls as he seeks out that one sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

When he finds it, he rubs it gently, drawing gasps from you while his forefinger plays with your clit, his other hand busy tugging and twisting your nipples under your shirt. He bites down on your neck, slurping your soft skin before pumping his finger into you.

“Feels good?” he asks in a hoarse voice. The sound of him like this — taking care of you while pressing his hardness against your ass — is almost as good as what he’s doing to your body. You squirm against him, relishing the way your movements draw a throb from his length. It feels like he’s about to cum in his pants.

“Such a tease, hmm? Didn’t know this side of you,” he whispers into your ear, sliding a second finger inside you. He thrusts both digits knuckle-deep, curling them perfectly.

You mewl, letting him feel your walls tightening and clenching around his fingers every time he brushes your sweet spot. The slick, wet sounds of your arousal make him groan — did you just throb?

“Close,” you warn, your body folding as the knot in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release. You wince, struggling to control your shallow breaths as your orgasm approaches. “Please, Toru.”

“Cum, baby, cum,” he coaxes, his voice soft and encouraging as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you. His grip tightens on your breast, and his fingers work your clit with relentless precision.

A second later, you come undone, cumming hard on his fingers. Your walls spasm around them, coating them in your warm juices. You bury your face in the pillow, gasping for air as the pleasure courses through you.

Satoru carefully withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. “Hmm, tastes as good as I thought you would,” he hums.

“You thought?” you repeat, your voice feeble.

“I never said I was innocent,” he says, echoing his earlier words with a smirk.

“You thought about how I’d taste?” you ask, raising an eyebrow with a skeptical pout.

“Not exactly that dirty, but…” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, “Can you blame me?”

You chuckle softly, sliding your shorts and soaked panties off under the blanket, your thighs damp with sweat and slick. As you shift, Satoru pinches the soft flesh of your rear.

“Didn’t you say tonight was the werewolves’ breeding night?” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips. The mere sight makes him want to cum in his pants.

“Would you let me?”

“I’m just waiting for you,” you say, blowing out a breath.

At those words, he wastes no time, undoing his belt and sliding his pants and boxers down. A damp spot betrays how hard and ready he is, his tip already leaking.

You reach out, wrapping your hand around his flushed, twitching length. It jumps slightly as you stroke him gently, a naughty smile playing on your lips — a sight that nearly drives him wild. You lower your head, giving him a perfect view of your bare ass as you tease him.

Each stroke of your hand makes him bite his lip harder, suppressing a moan. He’s trying to stay composed — he’s a man, after all.

But when you guide his shaft to your swollen lips, rubbing his reddened tip back and forth against your slick entrance, it nearly breaks him. You coat his mushroom tip with your cum, then press it against your tight, dripping hole.

Satoru exhales a trembling sigh, gripping your hips as if to ground himself. His fingers tighten, promising marks that will bloom later on your skin.

“Lemme fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he groans, his voice desperate as he struggles not to buck his hips into you.

And you smile. Such a naughty girl.

You sit up, slipping off your top to feel freer, and then position yourself on all fours, lifting your hips to give him full access to your dripping pussy, which aches to be filled.

You giggle softly, wiggling your hips, burying your face into the pillow.

Satoru takes it as an invitation. He positions himself at your entrance, stroking himself a few times before sliding into you. The stretch is delicious, like something out of a dream.

Your whimpers fill the room, rising into melodic, lewd moans — music to his ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Satoru hisses, gripping your hips to pull you closer, sliding his cock all the way inside until his tip kisses your womb. When he bottoms out, he knows it.

Even though he’s on the verge of cumming, Satoru wants to make sure you cum with him — to breed you thoroughly. His babies. Making you a mom.

The thought makes his thrusts gentle at first, letting you adjust to his size. But when you push your hips back and babble for him to fuck you for real…

He snaps.

He’s pounding into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, adding to the obscene wet sounds filling the room. Your ass meets his hips again and again, your walls gripping him tighter each time he withdraws, only to pull him back in harder.

It’s not just your bodies syncing but your hearts too. Breathless pants, gasps, pleading moans, and filthy whispers intertwine, creating something sacred between you.

“Toru, ah, please, deeper,” you whine, your hands gripping the sheets as he fucks you so perfectly.

“Deeper?” he repeats, his voice teasing as he grabs your hair gently, pulling your head back to arch your spine. It gives him even better access to the sweet spot he intends to flood with his seed. “You want me to be a daddy? And you a mommy? Cute little werewolf babies?”

“Fuck,” you moan, clenching tighter around him. “I want it. I want to be full of your cum and have babies.”

“So good, so tight,” he groans, his thrusts relentless. “Promise. You’re mine, remember?” But your nod isn’t enough for him. “Say it, sweetheart.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Toru,” you sob, tears streaming as you teeter on the edge. “I-I’m close,” you babble, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Satoru leans over you, his chest pressing against your arched back. His cock twitches as he growls, “Gonna take my load? Gonna cum so fucking much, yeah?”

One final thrust sends you both spiraling.

You cum hard, clenching so tightly around him that it’s a miracle his length fits inside you. He fills you with his warm seed, so much that it spills out in thick spurts.

Heartbeats pounding, breaths ragged, Satoru softens inside you, slowly pulling out. He kneels to watch the mix of your juices and his spill from your stretched hole.

He slides two fingers back in, gently pushing his seed back inside. “Need it to stay here,” he murmurs, patting your ass and pressing a kiss to your back. “Wanna go back to the village later?” Satoru asks.

You shake your head. “Just stay with me. With the future mother of your children.”

“Hmm, I think I can get used to this. Or maybe ‘wife’ is a better title?” He collapses beside you, a tired but peaceful smile on his face.

“Husband too,” you whisper, your voice filled with warmth.

a/n: thank you guys to have read this silly fic <3 on my period rn and it sucks but anyway. lot of tests coming so i think the stress is the reason haha. this time i don’t have a lot to say, just that writing about satoru is the best thing lol. some memes about wolves come to my mind i just wanna add them somewhere lmao

like and reblogs are always appreciated as comments <33

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @elliesndg

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[henry7931]

Chase:

Today is a really weird day and I didn’t know how I would feel about coming over to my best friend Bryce’s house especially after the incident.

Bryce and I have been friends for over 12 years now and him and I have always been a couple of scrawny gay nerds. We both love Minecraft legend of Zelda, just about every video game you can think of and one way we really bonded was figuring out that we are both gay.

Now for years, I’ve always known that Bryce had a crush on me. For me it was never that I didn’t like Bryce or I was never interested, but I never wanted to ruin the friendship. But then you have Walker is older brother. Walker is a few years older than us. He’s super handsome, athletic, charming, he could basically date anyone he laid his eyes on.

The truth is Walker was my sexual awakening for years. I’ve stayed at their house and spent the night and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Walker come out and nothing but basketball shorts hell I don’t even think he would wear underwear sometimes.

I can remember the way seeing him made me blush, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him. I don’t know if Walker could tell that I was checking him out. Or maybe Walker was just used to people checking him out shouldn’t be any surprise that his little brother‘s gay friend had his eyes glued to him.

And somehow he continues to keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter…

So several weeks ago, Bryce and Walker’s family went on vacation to some tropical island. And something very strange happened while touring an old temple. How Bryce explained it to me was that they had a sign up that specifically said, “ please do not touch artifact.”

Bryce can be such a stickler for rules and I can almost see it in my head. It all went down. Bryce told Walker not to touch it. Walker likes to get on Bryce‘s nerves Walker reaches for it and then shit got real quick. Because Walker and Bryce have now switched bodies.

When Bryce was explaining all this to me, I really thought it was bullshit. I mean, who would believe that that sounds like something from a movie and yet even hearing Walker‘s voice, I can tell just by the tone that it’s Bryce.

So today is the first day that I have seen Bryce since he swapped bodies with Walker. And that’s why I feel all kinds of weird.

Now Bryce and I have stayed with each other like 1 million times and it’s really not unusual for us to be basically naked around each other. OK maybe not completely naked but like at least in her underwear.

And I have tried really, really hard to make him feel comfortable and I think I’m doing a really good job but having him standing in front of me in just his brother’s boxers is driving me a bit insane.

I’m sitting on Bryce‘s bed and walks back into his room just to ask me if I wanted anything from downstairs like something to drink or maybe a snack. I can barely get out the words because I can’t stop staring at the chiseled God in front of me.

“ chase you’re staying the night right?,” he asked me.

“ oh yeah, of course I’m staying the night as long as that’s OK.”

“ yeah man of course it’s okay! You know it’s okay man. No one cares you stay the night. You’re like basically family sides. My brother isn’t going to be home tonight. He’s wanted a lot of space since the whole. I’ve got his body thing. And both my parents are out of town so it’s just gonna be us,” he says with a side smirk.

“ well if it’s just us what do you wanna get into tonight?,” I say trying to make conversation.

I’m holding my eye contact directly at his face and I try my hardest not to look anywhere else, but he takes his hand and start scratching his balls and I can almost feel my whole cock twitch.

“ I mean since everybody’s not here tonight, we can always break into my parents liquor cabinet, whoop whoop!”

You know I am probably the most innocent 18 year-old alive, I don’t wanna attend parties nor do I really sneak around my parents but I feel like alcohol sounds like a great idea right now. I mean it I might be able to calm down a bit.

“Hell yeah! That’s sounds fun!,” I say with some enthusiasm.

“Bet! Be right back!”

I hear as heavy feet running down the stairs and all I can do is try to think of something that would totally turn me off like anything taxes, my grandparents, just something…

And yet all I can think about is how hot it would be if I could suck on his toes. I’ve had a thing for feet a while now and it’s taking me a little bit to accept it and a part of that I blame Walker for him because he has some sexy ass feet.

I can remember clearly the smell of his feet after he would finish football practice and he would pull off his shoes. Shit! Fuck! I’m so hard right now. I feel like I’m gonna have to sneak away and beat one out in the bathroom just to clear my head.

And then here comes Bryce with two glasses in his hand and a bottle of wine for the both of us just super eager.

I reposition myself to where I’m laying flat on my stomach so he doesn’t notice.

Bryce hops on to the bed with me and try’s his hardest to navigate a wine opener.

“Geez, I have no clue what I’m doing here…”

I eventually take it and started twisting in. I try to pull it out but struggle.

“Here since you now have all of the muscles.”

He rolls his eyes at me and tugs it out.

“Success!”

“Good team work there he-man,” I say playfully.

Bryce’s pours both of us a glass and at first I thought it tasted awful. But the second glass… now I see why people like it. I feel so warm inside and relaxed.

We both lay back in his bed.

“Is it super weird for you?,” I ask him.

“What?”

“You know… being in your Walkers body.”

“Um… yes. Yes and no I guess. I feel like everything has just moved so quick since the trip. I feel very different in public, like I’m so much more noticed. girls hit on me… so do guys. It’s a lot to take in especially since you and my family are the only ones who know about it.”

“What about Walker’s girlfriend?”

“Oh he broke up with her, thought it would be less weird. Although he had to do it over text because I refused to call or see her in person.”

“Damn! That’s crazy.”

“Yeah but she was like his girlfriend for the month, nothing serious.”

Of course…

“So is this pretty permanent?”

“Yeah I think so, unless you know of any other magic objects than can reverse it haha.”

“No, not off of the top of my head,”I say jokingly.

“Well… that answers your question. This is my body now. This is the new me I guess,” he says looking his muscles over.

I look them over as well and then my eyes draw this briefs… he’s got a hard on…

Bryce catches my eyes and says, “you wanna touch it?”

“What?!?”

“Come on Chase… don’t play games with me. I know you and I know you’ve had the hots for this body. I’ve known for years now.”

I take a deep breath… I feel my nervous all over again.

“It’s okay, I know you like this body. It’s my body now. And I want you to touch my massive dick.”

“But Bryce!”

“Shhh! Chase I’ve had a crush on you for years and I know you would never fool around with me. And now I have the body you’ve been lusting for years now. TOUCH MY MASSIVE DICK PLEASE!”

“Fuck, okay.”

I start touching it from the outside and it does feel huge!

“You know I love you Bryce, you’re the most important person to me. I just never wanted us to loose our friendship. It’s why I never tried anything with you.”

“I know. And listen I know you weren’t trying to go after my brother. I know what he looks like. Everyone does. But now I have the body and the personality so, I’m giving you no choice but to date me. Got it?”

“Ugh fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure!”

“Can I see your feet?” he says to me.

Wow! Wasn’t expecting that!

“Wait why?”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird but I have a thing for them.”

“Shut up! So do I!”

“You do?!?”

“Yeah especially…,” I eye down to his feet and wiggles his toes.

“Oh my god! This is about to be a wild night!”

“Wait, can I kiss you?”

“Please!”

Part 2 Coming…

[hexlenx]

Could you do a story where Sergei is tough, but also overprotective of the protagonist, pls?

I love your stories

A/N: ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. I am so glad you requested this because lately I've been obsessed with sergei and have been thinking of a way to make a small fic about his toxic self so you requesting this gave me an idea! Thank you so much anon! It might be a little different from your request though but the tough part as well as overprotectiveness is still there, just more dark themes. I hope you don't mind that though, I just feel like it fits more with his character.

YOU'RE MINE, ALRIGHT? — sergei kravinoff

note: I do not own this man because he owns himself, periodt. This is made purely out of entertainment purposes!

warning!: violence, age-gap, (somewhat) toxic relationship, little blood, swearing, sexual harassment, mentions of death, 18+, and sergei being hot (man is a warning himself) mdni

__________________

You were only taking your nightly stroll in the forest while your lover was in the cabin somewhere in the woods that he made you move in after knowing each other for a while. Your relationship with him was not really ideal but you loved him with all your heart and vice versa.

Your lover might not show it but he cares about you more than he let on. It worried you for quite some time now that maybe you weren't good enough for him, you refused to do such things that he called 'the hunt'. You weren't prepared to do something so unnerving. Surprisingly, he agreed to let you prepare after a bit of arguing and silent treatments of course. Still, you thought that he might leave you because you have never done anything for him other than sit still and be pretty.

But you were so wrong.

Sighing as an owl hoots through the trees and crickets sounding in your surroundings, you now began to walk towards the path to the cabin. You've basically just walked straight from here to there so it wasn't that hard to find your way back.

Noises of leaves crushing alerted you as you walked down the path. Multiple voices sounded from the right side of you but before you could hide, a bright flashlight flickered towards your figure, blinding you.

Hissing a bit from the bright light, you blinked your eyes before your vision focused to four males who looked about a couple years older than you. An ache appeared in your stomach as you felt like you had a bad feeling about the situation.

"Well, well. Look at what we have here." One of the men whistled as his eyes looked at your frame up and down.

"Quite a looker, right?" The other one on his right licked his lips in anticipation.

"Think we could use her for entertainment?" Another one from behind snickered. As if a light bulb appeared on top of their heads, their eyes lit up dangerously making you step back in fear as you heard their conversation.

No, please don't.

"Don't worry, doll. This will only last for the whole night." The man in the middle reassured but it was anything but reassuring. Before you could sprint off, one of them had already grabbed you by the arms, arms tightening around you as you continued to struggle.

Fear was evident in your eyes as tears started to prickle in them. This cannot be happening, you thought. You were a bit far from home so you couldn't scream for your lover because of the distance. You were now sobbing as the men took their time in touching you. Hands ripping off your shirt leaving you in your bra as well as your lover's boxers that you wore since you've used all of yours already.

You could feel their hands groping each part of your body before they finally decided to spread your legs. You were struggling to close it because multiple pair of hands were pinning you down to the ground next to a tall tree.

Sergei, that was the only thing you could think of.

Sergei, my love.

Sergei, please.

Save me.

"SERGEI!" You suddenly screamed out your lover's name making the men flinch from your voice.

"Fucking hell—this bitch is so loud!"

"Scream all you want, love. But no one ain't gonna hear you here." They all laughed as you kept sobbing. Why must this happen? Your bra was long forgotten as you tried to get your hands free but alas you cannot. The man between your legs then lowered his head towards one of your breasts but before he could latch on it a loud thump interrupted them.

"You dare.." A deep voice growled out as the four men stopped what they were doing. They slowly looked up and saw a very muscular man that stalked over them. His eyes glowing in a yellow serpent like color, his forearms hardening, as well as a very dark and murderous look on his face. The man menacingly stalked towards them as the men were quick to scramble up to their feet fixing their clothes before sprinting out.

The man immediately chased them and since all four were running at the same direction, he jumped high and landed in front of them to stop them from escaping.

"You dare to break and enter my forest, not only that.." He continued his words from before. Grabbing one of them by the neck he tossed him to a tree, hard. Making a sickening crack to be heard in the air, causing the others to look at the man in fear.

"You hurt what is mine."

You woke up in a familiar room and the warmth surrounding your from the fireplace. You were confused, weren't you just in the forest taking a nightly stroll while your lover was busy?

Just then your head started to ache as you remembered what happened. You hugged yourself as you now began to sob quietly, you were harassed, sexually to the point that you were ripped off your clothing. It made you feel disgusted with yourself, what would Sergei think of you now?

Footsteps sounded from behind you as you continued to wrap your arms around yourself hoping to shield yourself from the exposure from the world. Hot steaming food was suddenly placed in front of you as you blinked from surprise before looking away, not wanting to consume any food.

"Eat." It was your lover. Sergei plopped down on the spot beside you taking the spoon topped with food from the plate before putting said plate on the drawer beside the bed. He grabbed you by the chin before gently forcing you to look in his direction. This gave you no choice but to eat the food on the spoon he held up.

This continued for a few moments until you finished your food. The silence was deafening and it bothered you but it seems like your lover doesn't see that.

"I'm sorry."

Sergei paused from cleaning up the table before looking at you, confusion evident in his eyes despite his face unchanging.

"O—other men touched me..y—you probably don't want a woman like me a—anymore. I mean, I wouldn't as well.." You coarsed out as tears began to fall from your eyes as you look down in shame. You couldn't look at him in the eyes, you were so ashamed of yourself, hell even disgusted. You felt so dirty as you could still feel those men's hands all over you, tongues licking your neck, fabric tearing away from your skin. It made you feel ill.

Suddenly your face was gently pulled up letting you make eye contact with a pair of dark brown eyes that was in a fixed scowl but if you looked closely, it softened the moment you both made eye contact.

Sergei didn't know how to comfort you as growing up, all he knew was violence. But he did the only thing he knew he could do.

He kissed you.

"I'll make their hands disappear and make you remember mine, instead."

[c0ffeejelly1]

Manhandling him

Multiple character headcannon

Authors note: UGH pls this whole things was for jokes bc I can’t really be that ask to make something I feel is good. Teehee. Also I can mischaracterise all I want okay let a girl dream pls. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: man it’s like the smallest hint of the nasty freaky stuff

“Babe, you got something on your face. Let me just…” You reach out to your boyfriend, making him look your way by gripping his chin firmly while you flick away a bit of ‘glitter’ from his cheek. “There you go.”

Strike one.

That was just the beginning of your strange behavior today.

“Hey baby, c’mere I wanna kiss…” you call him over from the other side of the kitchen counter, only to yank on his collar and pull him in for one hell of a snog. “Seriously, you have no business looking this good today.”

Strike two.

Just what was up with you today?

You just got home from work, and as he’s about to sit up to see you, you suddenly push him back down onto the couch, mumbling something about how much you “missed him”.

Strike three.

You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your lips, but then you pause to check out his face.

Perhaps you took this prank too far…

The type to be oddly into it

“…are you hard?”

This snaps your boyfriend out of his thoughts.

He’d never ever ever thought he could find himself in a situation like this. this is the kind of stuff you see in movies, right? I mean, come on!

Just picture how mortifying it is to be turned on from someone mistreating you! It’s pathetic!

He can’t just blurt out, ‘oh hell yeah I’m hard’ in response to that question—why would anyone even think to ask that? What can a guy do in a moment like this except deny it?

“What? N-no!…” He glances away, feeling the weight of your intense gaze. “…maybe?”

When you raise an eyebrow at him, his mask crumbles entirely. There’s no use in pretending.

You’ve already seen right through him, leaving him no option but to retreat into a shadowy corner and disappear.

“Yeah.” He responds, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I…I am.”

Maybe it’s because of the way you handled him like he was nothing that made him so bothered.

Maybe it was the way you looked so desperate to have him that did it for him.

Either way, he’s discovered something about himself he never knew he ever had.

And make no mistake, you were going to exploit this discovery to the fullest.

“Have I told you how much I love you babe?” You pull back from his face after practically devouring it as he stands there, grinning like a lovesick fool, dishes still in hand.

“I think you should tell me more.”

“Wrap up with those dishes, and I’ll give you a demonstration instead.”

Be ready for one hell of a night cowgirl. Wink wink

Charcters: serizawa, armin, EREN, REINER, ukai, ATSUMU, Osamu, Gojo, CHOSO, leviathan, SATAN, DIAVOLO, IIDA, denki, tamaki, CHILDE, Cyno, sanji, LAW

The type to think you’ve finally gone crazy

you call out to him, noticing he seems lost in his phone. Yet, oddly enough, he flinches slightly every time you speak.

This reaction occurs whenever you draw near him, as if your voice startles him, even when you're just a breath away. It’s not that he dislikes your voice; rather, it feels like he’s a bit intimidated by you now.

What happened to the confident guy who was with you just two days ago? Why does he seem to be tiptoeing around you like a child with a fragile toy?

“Y/N…is everything alright?” He approaches you cautiously, maintaining a bit of distance, trying to balance his interest with a hint of hesitation. “You’ve been…um, I just wanted to check—are you upset with me?”

“Upset with you?” You set your phone aside, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be upset? Did you do something wrong?”

That’s the very question he’s grappling with. Your passionate touches and fervent kisses have left him bewildered about your feelings.

Are you so enamored that you can’t help yourself, or are you retaliating for something he might have done? Suddenly, a thought strikes him.

“…If this is about how intense things got last night, I’m sorry, but you did ask for it when I warned you I wouldn’t hold back—” His words are cut short as your hand swiftly covers his mouth.

“No! No that’s—just no. It was a prank babe, a trend I saw online” you say, removing your hand and placing both on his shoulders. “Last night has nothing to do with today or any other day.”

“Not even you complaining about being sore?”

“Not even me complaining about…wait I never did that!”

“Yeah buts it’s easy to tell.”

Charcters: REIGEN, giyuu, giyomei, JEAN, KAGEYAMA, hinata, kuroo, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, geto, NANAMI, Solomon, IZUKU, Diluc, LAIOS, zayne, LAW (Sowy I can see him as both)

The type to also manhandle you

Did you honestly believe you could manhandle him without facing the same treatment in return? Come on this is your boyfriend we’re talking about, In fact, I think he’s thrilled that you can boss him around so effortlessly.

So thrilled that he makes it into a competition

“Okay let’s see who tackles the first person on the bed.” His eyes shine with enthusiasm as he confidently places his hands on his hips. “If I win I get to have my way with you, and if you win, you get to have me have my way with you. Deal?”

You pause for a moment to process his words “…uh, how is that fair?”

“What do you mean?” he replies, brushing off your concern with a grin.

“I think it’s perfectly fair. No matter the outcome, you get a nice little reward, right?” His voice dances with mischief as he nudges you playfully with his elbow, clearly trying to elicit a reaction.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, before relenting, “I guess it’s not so bad..”

“Exactly! Now, I’m going to count down. Ready? 3…2…” Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, he lunges at you, tackling you onto the bed before he even reaches 1.

“H-hey! That’s cheating, you can’t do that!” But your protests are ignored, your boyfriend already having you wrapped in his warm embrace, his face buried against your neck.

“This is what you get for how you’ve been treating me today.”

“What are you talking about?” You pause for a moment, though you suspect he’s finally caught on to your little scheme. “You mean me kissing you like any normal woman would with the love of her life?”

“No. Just you touching me all weirdly…”

“Don’t say it like that you make me sound like a perv.”

“Maybe cause you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m not.”

Charcters: RENGOKU, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, hinata (yes again), kuroo (YESSS AGAIN), BOKUTO, TENDOU, MAMMON, DENKI (twice and what), kirishima, ITTO, rafayel, LUFFY

The type…yeah you ain’t doing that

Screw everything I just said in the intro. If you genuinely think you can manhandle this man and succeed. You’re crazy.

“Hey, come here, you’ve got something—” The moment your hand nears his face, he seizes your wrist, staring at you as if you’ve just committed a serious offense.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…I’m trying to like get the little speck of glitter off your face.”

“We don’t own glitter?”

“Dust then?” He shoots you a skeptical glance.

“…sure.”

So that was an absolute fail…

But you’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. No way! You just need to bide your time until nightfall, when he’s all soft and cuddly. That’s when you’ll make your move.

As the evening unfolds and you’re prepping for bed in the bathroom, you catch sight of him reaching for something in the cupboard above you. This is your moment. The time to pull him in close and—

SMACK

“The hell? What was that for?” He rubs his forehead, clearly taken aback by your sudden move.

Who knew kissing your boyfriend could be this complicated? Somehow, you ended up colliding headfirst into him, and now he’s clearly fed up with you.

“That wasn’t how it was supposed to go…” you say with a shy smile, nervously scratching the back of your head. “You alright?”

You gently move his hand away from his forehead to check for any damage, and to your surprise, he lets you.

Wait a minute… you actually moved his hand, and he’s okay with it? Is this manhandling? I think it’s manhandling. It’s manhandling.

“…I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I touched you!”

“??”

Pls stop confusing this man he’s already tired enough.

Charcters: dimple, akashi, MIDORIMA, aomine, sanemi, KAGEYAMA (yes again), TSUKISHIMA, iwaizumi, TOJI, LUCIFER, bakugou, AIZAWA, sylus, ZORO,

[blackynsupremacy]

NICHOLAS BEING

OBSESSED WITH YOUR

BOOBS HEADCANONS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: nicholas can’t enough of your boobs.

contains: sfw and nsfw (18+) so minors dni! established relationship, nicholas being a simp, nicholas being a pervert, making out, mention of smut, ambiguous unprotected/protected (it’s up to the reader), oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), riding, major love to your titties, nipple sucking/biting, food play, ice play, slight breeding kink, praise kink, mention of sending nudes, cuddling, aftercare.

taglist: @stereotypicalbarbie @sabrinasopposite @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @hnch33rios @tryingtograspctrl @gxuxhdjdu @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @ellethespaceunicorn @camiesully

• your boyfriend nicholas loves everything about you.

• your mind, your soul, your heart.

• and of course, your body.

• one of his favorite parts: your boobs.

• the biggest simp to them thangs.

• it all started when he came over to your place for a dinner and movie night.

• ya’ll were gonna cook together, eat, and watch a movie. just kicking with each other, basically.

•when you opened the door, he peeped your usual lounge wear consisted of sweats and a white, ribbed tank.

• what he also peeped was that you didn’t wear a bra. you were a little confused on why he was blushing when he stepped inside.

• “because well, you know, you’re not wearing a…yeah.” he awkwardly gestured towards your figure and tried his best to avert his eyes.

• of course he believed you were this breathtakingly stunning woman who was indeed sexy as hell, but he didn’t want you to see him as a creep by any means.

• he respects you—a lot!

• when he told you why, you couldn’t help but laugh.

• “wait. what am i not wear—oh. ooohh!”

•you weren’t thinking of it that much because this was your house and you felt that comfortable around nicholas to walk braless around him. you reassured him this was just how you relax at home.

•you’d sometimes walk around shirtless, but that’s a story for later.

• from that day on, nicholas gained a bit of confidence regarding his love for your chest.

• it started out with you guys cuddling on the couch. his big wholesome self was laying on top of you with arms wrapped around you like a koala. his head rested on your torso, just a little below your chest.

• you didn’t mind. that’s your lil’ bookie butt!

•you and nicholas were laying in a comfortable silence. one hand massaging his hair, while the other was scrolling through your tiktok.

• “hmm…y/n.” he murmurs, nuzzling his head up closer. you spaced out a little and he called your name again a little louder.

• “yeah, nicholas?” you respond still paying attention to your scrolling.

• “there’s something i wanna try. would you be okay with that?”

• “yeah, sure, go ‘head.”

• nicholas took that green light to slide his large hands up under your shirt to softly caress the skin of your stomach, just taking his time and easing his way in.

• he was gonna make sure you’d stop scrolling once and for all and give him some attention.

•you thought he was just giving you an innocent body massage as you felt him move your shirt up your stomach.

•you giggled a bit when he sprinkled some sweet kisses along your navel.

• now you were starting to get confused. was he about to go down on you, right now?

•it was the complete opposite, nicholas was lifting that little ass shirt of yours higher and higher until your breasts were fully exposed to him.

•the girls were sitting pretty and looked ready to be taken care of.

• with both hands, he grasps onto them. with a dark, focused vision, his fingers take time to knead, roll, and play around.

• “nick, baby, what are you—ah, shit.” your sentence was cut short when pressed his tongue flat against your nipple, giving it a deliberate lick before his lips surrounds it to give it a good sucking.

• nicholas felt smug as fuck when he heard the thud of your phone hit the floor. now both of your hands were caressing his head as you brought him in closer.

• he’s a cheeky little perv when it comes to your boobs.

• he sees your nipples as little hershey kisses.

• ya’ll could just be standing there and he’d just grab a titty with no logical reason.

•he likes to playfully bury his face in your chest.

• gives you a motorboat every once in a while.

• he loves when you cuddle right on top of him, so your chests would be pressed together.

• he’s a sucker for you when hug him from behind.

• bonus for when you hug him from behind and you’re both shirtless.

• your plush, soft chest pressing and rubbing against the hard, toned muscles of his back are an intoxicating sensation.

• besides those itty bitty tanks you wear, it drives him crazy when you wear bikinis, corset tops, and low cut dresses.

• girl, he’d be ready to give it to you if you wear any of that with one of his necklaces.

• especially his gold cross chain. he’d be ready to literally fold you.

• you’d sometimes send him pics of you covering bare chest with his necklace on to tease him.

• for your instagram post on halloween, you and him recreated the iconic, yet scandalous album cover from janet jackson’s 1993 self-titled album.

• it’s the one with your hands on your head and he’s concealed behind you with his hands covering your breasts.

• ya’ll went so viral that queen janet herself gave you a like, comment, and a follow.

•nicholas thought you were so cute while you were having a fan girling moment.

• ya’ll didn’t give two shits about whatever backlash ya’ll received.

• you just got followed by janet jackson, so nothing else mattered.

• he loves to see them thangs jump and jiggle.

• one time you jogged up to him to tell him something and this man kept staring at your chest like he’d been hypnotized after seeing them move like that.

• you’d have to be the one to bring him back down to earth.

• “nicholas, i’m trying to tell you something important. my eyes are up here, baby boy.”

• he’d nervously laugh and apologize, he felt so embarrassed. he swears up and down that he has better self-control.

• you reassured him that you were going to let him see them soon.

• when you guys work out together. he would notice the bounce of your boobs when you were running on the treadmill.

• or when you sweat, it leaves your brown skin glistening in that area.

• his nasty self don’t give a fuck, he wants to lick it.

• obviously gropes onto your breasts while you guys makeout.

• he loves when you whimper in his mouth as his grip gets more intense.

• you were playing him in pool. it was hot as hell, so of course you wore a fucking corset top.

• nicholas just watched attentively each time you bent over to hit the balls with your pool cue.

• his eyes couldn’t pull away as your breasts pressed flush against the table.

• you didn’t notice because of your competitiveness. you just wanted to kick nicholas’ ass in this game.

•well, you did.

• man was in such a titty tizzy, he fumbled the game.

• you couldn’t help, but to gloat and he was still happy for your win.

• plus, he got to see your boobs, so did he really lose?

• he sings your praises each time you expose yourself before sex.

• “fuck, my girl is so fucking beautiful.”

• “don’t you see what you do to me, y/n?”

• “please, let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

•when he goes down south, one hand is intertwined with yours while the other is playing around with your nipple as his tongue brings you to euphoria.

• they’re one his favorite places to release on after you’ve given him the world’s best head.

• he goes fucking crazy when he sees it dripping down your nipples.

• loves to alternate between each boob. he wants to make sure the girls get equal tlc.

• pull on his hair harder, his nibbles turn to bites.

• to spice things up, he’ll have you decorate your boobs with whip cream, chocolate sauce, or icing for him to lap it clean.

• his personal favorite is circling an ice cube around your nipples to get them cold and erected before placing his hot tongue on each.

• he’s mesmerized by the way the girls bounce whether you’re riding him or you’re beneath him in missionary.

• if it’s in reverse cowgirl, he’d hold on to your boobs for dear life.

• if he’s taking you from the side, one hand is on your leg to angle it up while the other gripping onto your chest.

• sometimes he’d just sit back and watch. he’d enjoy the show with his hands behind his head.

• or if he’s in a sentimental mood, he’d hold you by the waist and bring your chests as close as possible until you both become undone.

• afterwards, he’d run you both a bath to soothe your worn out bodies.

• he gently massages your boobs with soapy hands while whispering about how good you make him feel and not just in a sexual sense.

• he’d want to get you pregnant to see your boobs grow even bigger.

• he’d dress you in a sheer, satin nightgown that he bought you.

• he you got seven of them in different colors.

• when you cuddle in bed, he loves to be the big spoon, so that he can slide his hand under your top to caress your erect nipple.

• boobs aside, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

[wchswift]

ଓ LAP OF (DIS)COMFORT

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: during movie night, the only available seat is on logan's lap.

word count: 727

ℒogan masterlist !

── english isn't my first language :)

mdni 𖤐 18+

Deadpool had a habit of... Well, once a thought settled in his mind, he wouldn't fucking drop it. And ever since Logan became a part of your lives, Deadpool has been obsessed with hosting a movie night every week.

Now each week, without exception, he would gather everyone in the living room to watch a movie and keep Logan up to date. Though the grumpy man would never openly admit it, there was a flicker of enjoyment in him.

Today, however, this crazy slacker had put you in charge of making the popcorn. Something you did after little complaint, but as you returned to the living room, balancing several buckets of freshly popped popcorn, your ungrateful friends had claimed every available seat, leaving you without a seat and standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

You glance around, hands on your hips. “Okay, where the hell am I supposed to sit?”

“Lap dance roulette,” Wade announces, sprawled across half the couch like some kind of human starfish. “Winner gets Logan.”

Your stomach twists, heat creeping up your neck before you can shove it down. You’re not looking at Logan. But you feel his eyes on you like he already knows where this is going. You fucking hated Wade.

"Not happening," Logan grunts, beer in hand, shoulders tense where he sits in the only available armchair.

You fold your arms. "Alright, then where am I sitting?"

“Floor’s right there,”

You glare. “Yeah? Maybe I should make you sit on the floor.”

His lips twitch—almost a smirk—but he takes a long sip of beer instead like he’s enjoying your irritation.

“Oh for f—just sit in his lap,” Vanessa replies, impatient but with a mischievous smile appearing on her lips, throwing popcorn at Wade when he starts waggling his eyebrows. “We don’t have all night.” Great, everyone was against you today.

"Come on, guys! If you all sit down properly, I can easily sit on the couch too," You said, mainly to Wade, who was taking up practically half the couch by himself. When no one answered and carried on talking and complaining, you let out a sigh.

You run your hand over your face, your jaw clenched, but you weigh your options. One: stand for two hours. Two: sit on the floor uncomfortable like an outcast. Or three—

Logan exhales sharply, like he’s already regretting this. "Just sit, sweetheart. Get it over with."

Sweetheart.

Your pulse stutters for a fraction of a second. Logan rarely calls you that—not in that tone, not in front of other people.

But if he’s not making a big deal out of it, then neither are you.

So, ignoring the way your palms suddenly feel a little too warm, you lower yourself onto his lap.

His thighs are solid. That’s your first thought. The second is that you probably should’ve just picked the floor, because now you’re fully aware of everything. The way his chest moves when he breathes. The slow curl of his fingers against his beer bottle. The warmth of his body against yours.

You shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable spot—

A muscle in Logan’s jaw jumps. His hand finds your hip. “Jesus, would you quit moving?”

Your breath catches. His voice is low, rough—gravel and tension rolled into one. And his fingers? Just the barest bit possessive where they tighten against your side.

Wade whistles. "Well, someone’s having a great time. Logan, buddy, is that a blush?"

Logan flips him off but doesn't move his hand.

Doesn’t let go; he actually lets his hand settle loosely on your waist as if to keep you steady. To keep you there.

Your throat feels dry. This was supposed to be nothing—just a seat. But now? The air’s buzzing. Your heart’s drumming. And you swear, swear, that Logan’s grip lingers just a second too long to be innocent.

You don’t say anything about it.

Neither does he.

But as the movie plays, his hand moves to your hip and stays firm. And when you shift—just once—his fingers twitch, like he wants to pull you closer but won’t.

Tension crackles between you like a live wire.

Yeah. You’re definitely not paying attention to the movie tonight.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @namikyento (if you want to be added let me know <3)

[dakotalun]

"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.

warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie

word count: 3.4k

Part 2

a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.

What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.

His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.

And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.

You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.

Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.

‘SHIT!’

‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’

‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’

‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’

‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’

You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.

‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’

You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.

Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.

“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”

“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.

“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.

“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”

“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.

“Try. Me.” You challenge back.

Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”

You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.

“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else. 

Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.

You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.

You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.

The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.

The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.

---

You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.

Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.

The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.

“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.

“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”

“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.

“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.

“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”

“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”

“You mean for you?”

“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”

“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.

“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.

“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”

Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”

I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.

---

Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.

He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.

Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.

“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.

“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.

“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”

Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.

“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.

You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”

“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.

“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.

Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.

You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.

You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.

His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.

Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.

Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.

The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat  a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.

Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.

“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.

“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”

“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”

You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”

“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.

He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.

Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.

Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.

“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.

Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.

Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.

You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.

He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.

“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You giggle.

“Brat,” He mumbles back.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.

How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.

But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

[desperate-gay]

christmas request for leah williamson:

"Just because we’re stuck under mistletoe doesn’t mean I have to kiss you.”

“Scared you might enjoy it?"

A Christmas Tease

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

summary: your teammate has quite the reputation and she will do anything to catch your attention

a/n: just a quick blurb i thought id write due to a sleepless night

“There she is!” Katie shouts, arm extended with a beer in hand, announcing your late arrival at the party.

“Yes, here I am. My tires are horrible with the snow and everyone drives like there’s a whole blizzard outside.” You roll your eyes, removing your outdoor gear to throw on the coat rack and embrace the warmth of the house.

You greet everyone with a smile and catch up to all the conversations that have happened within the last 20 minutes you have missed. You’ve gotten extremely close with many of your teammates despite only playing for Arsenal for only a couple of months. Once your USWNT teammate, Emily Fox, was signed, you weren’t too long after.

You had already known a lot of your teammates from international games and previous clubs you had played for, so there weren't too many people to get used to.

Besides one very obnoxious player.

Leah Williamson.

She has a reputation for sleeping around and placing girls in her trophy case. The team jokes that she’s challenging herself to sleep with every girl in London, and, unfortunately, her new target is you.

“Were you too busy answering prayers, angel?” A thick british accent breaks you out of your trance, making you jump in surprise.

“More like digging myself up from hell.” You say, giving her a plastered grin before taking a sip of the champagne that rests in your hand.

“I’ll have you one day, you know.” Leah states confidently, earning herself a sharp glare from you in which she only returns with a cocky smirk.

Not even wanting to argue with the girl, you scoff and walk over to where Lia and Mariona sit and join them in conversation. You’d never admit this to the blonde, not wanting to make her ego swell bigger than it anyway is, you used to have the biggest crush on her before you transferred to Arsenal.

You always found the blonde extremely attractive, especially on the pitch, but when you finally met her and found out about her off-the-pitch affairs, your crush faded away.

“You still there, amiga?” Mariona asks softly, noticing your silence.

“Yes, of course. Sorry, just a bit distracted.” You smile apologetically, twisting the glass in your hand for distraction.

“No need to apologize, but if I may, does this have anything to do with a certain english blonde defender?” Lia smirks teasingly as you roll your eyes and shake your head rapidly.

“Absolutely not. You know my feelings about that, Lia.” The swiss girl allows the conversation to disappear although she doesn’t believe you one bit.

—

“Next question, what is everyone’s favorite christmas song?” Kim asks the team who all are huddled around in the living space, you coincidentally smushed on a loveseat with Leah.

Many shouts are thrown across the room from voices trying to top each other, debating on what christening song is the ultimate song, including your voice.

Noticing the girl next to you zoning out and not participating, you bump your shoulder into hers, asking, “What about you? What’s your favorite christmas song?”

“Rockin’ around the christmas tree.” Leah nods in confidence.

“Why that one?” You immediately regret asking when that familiar cocky grin stretches along the older girl’s face.

“Because I know I can rock your world when you finally let me.” She whispers, leaning closer to you so no one else can hear, and quickly snapping back when you push her in disgust, making the girl chuckle and take a sip of her drink.

Many hours pass by with more questions, movies, karaoke, and so on before people start to trickle out to head back to their destined homes. It was only you and a few people left, cleaning up the snacks that were on display and garbage littered in small areas.

Leaning against the wall of the archway, someone clearing their throat grabs your attention next to you. You quickly see the blonde locks and huff in annoyance before turning back to look at what you were.

She taps your shoulder and points above the two of you, causing you to scoff when you notice the holiday plant hanging down by a string. Leah’s white teeth shimmer at you before puckering her lips and making exaggerated kissy noises.

“Just because we are under a mistletoe does not mean I have to kiss you.” You declare, watching the older girl with squinted eyes.

“Afraid you may enjoy it, darling?” Leah questions, pulling herself off the wall and moving slightly closer to you with a wide grin plastered on her face.

A weird shock runs through your body from hearing her husky tone, but you shake it off as the thought of a cold shiver. You swiftly look around to make sure no one is around before closing the gap between you and Leah, grabbing her arms and placing them on your hips while yours wraps around her neck.

The blonde’s smile fades and instead is replaced with a huge face of shock.

“I know I’ll enjoy it. I have been dreaming of you railing me into the mattress over and over again, having your way with me on every surface of every room, and making my legs shake violently with every orgasm you give me.” You whisper, lips brushing against the girl’s ear as her hands grip your hips together with every word.

“Yeah?” Leah’s voice shakes.

“Oh yeah, but this won’t ever happen except in your daydreams.”

With that, you down the rest of the drink in your hand and strut off to help Kim with the rest of the cleanup, leaving the defender in complete bewilderment and arousal.

Merry christmas indeed.