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tenjikusprincess · 7 days ago

Text

just call my name, i’m yours to tame

→ namgyu x fem!reader

→ TW! smut (degradation and praise kink, begging, dom!reader, phone sex, riding, nam-gyu is PATHETIC, edging, slight overstim) , no mentions of the games, crazy bsf!!

→ authors note: BRO IVE BEEN UP FOR A DAY STRAIGHT WITH NO SLEEP OVER THIS because i didn’t wanna lose my motivation! anyways im so proud of this ngl and it’s my first squid game fic sooo i hope i did okay. this is kinda inspired by the song “middle of the night” by elley duhé so listen to it!! it’s so good! anyway if yall wanna send some asks over go ahead im actually BEGGING. well, enjoy lovelies hehe

you’re not even halfway through the door before your eyes find him.

same place. same posture. same cool indifference behind the bar like he didn’t just press restart on every nerve in your body.

nam-gyu.

you don’t know what it is about him. maybe it’s the way he looks so devastatingly bored, like the world doesn’t offer anything that could possibly impress him. maybe it’s the way he moves, precise, practiced, but not cocky. like he’s spent a lifetime learning how to be both efficient and impossible to look away from.

all you know is this club, this dim, overpriced, too-loud club, isn’t even your vibe. you started coming here for the music, maybe. but you keep coming for him.

you claim the usual spot at the end of the bar, pretending to scroll your phone. pretending not to stare. pretending that you aren’t mentally scripting every possible line you could say if you ever actually spoke to him. you won’t. you’d rather crawl into traffic in heels.

tonight is different though.

because tonight, you’re not alone.

“is that him?” your friend whispers, leaning way too close and shamelessly eyeing the man you’d barely finished describing on the walk here.

you suck in a breath, feel your whole body lock up. “shut up,” you hiss through a panicked smile.

her eyes widen. “oh my god. you’re in deep. you didn’t say he was hot hot.”

“i did say that,” you mutter, cheeks burning. you try to hide behind your drink, but it’s no use. she’s already grinning like she just uncovered state secrets.

and then the words that make your blood freeze.

“if you don’t talk to him tonight, i will.”

you snap your head toward her so fast it might break your neck. “don’t you dare.”

she only shrugs, already signaling the bartender. him. nam-gyu glances your way, and your soul might as well exit your body.

too late now. tonight’s the night.

you don’t even remember standing up. one second you’re watching nam-gyu walk toward your side of the bar, and the next you’re in the hallway by the bathrooms, gripping the sink like it might float you away from this entire reality.

your heart is a mess. your lip gloss is slightly smudged. and your brain is screaming.

you look at yourself in the mirror and whisper, “you’re a coward.”

still, you don’t move. you give yourself a solid three minutes of silent internal screaming before finally emerging again, heart pounding like you just ran a marathon in heels.

your friend is at the table, looking suspiciously pleased with herself. worse, the bar is one nam-gyu short.

“where is he?” you ask, panic rising in your throat.

she doesn’t answer. she just pushes your drink toward you. your eyes catch something underneath it. folded napkin. black ink. sharp handwriting.

a phone number.

you blink. once. twice. “what… is this?”

your friend sips her drink like she’s been waiting for this moment all night. “you weren’t gonna do it, so i helped.”

you stare at her. “what do you mean, you helped?”

“i told him you think he’s hot and that you’ve been coming here just to see him. and that if he wanted your number, he could have it.”

you make a strangled sound in the back of your throat. “you what?”

“he didn’t say anything at first,” she says with a shrug, “but then he kind of smiled, like, all slow and smug, and just said, ‘tell her i’ll text her later.’ and then he wrote his number down and left.”

your whole body goes stiff. your heart is throwing itself against your ribs like it’s trying to escape.

“he smiled?”

“mhmm.” she smirks. “you’re welcome.”

you look down at the napkin again, like maybe it’ll vanish. like maybe this is some elaborate joke.

but it’s real.

and now you have his number.

it’s been four days.

four days since the club. four days since nam-gyu handed off his number like it wasn’t a nuclear event in your life. four days since your friend practically fed him your entire romantic history while you had a panic attack in the bathroom.

and somehow… nothing.

no text. no call. no vague dm. not even a like on one of your old instagram posts.

so you did what anyone would do. you shoved the entire night into a little box in your brain labeled embarrassing but character-building and moved on.

or at least tried to. today’s just a normal lazy sunday. your friend is over again, laying on your bed while the two of you binge a drama you’re not even really watching. there’s an open bag of chips between you, your feet tangled under a shared blanket, and a familiar quiet comfort in the air.

it’s the kind of day where the light comes through your windows all soft and golden. the kind where nothing feels urgent. nothing feels loud.

until your phone buzzes.

you almost ignore it. but then the screen lights up again. twice.

unknown number:

hey

unknown number:

it’s nam-gyu, from the club?

you sit bolt upright, nearly knocking the bag of chips off the bed. your friend startles.

“what? what happened? are you okay?”

you look at her, wide-eyed. “it’s him.”

she blinks. “who?”

you shove your phone in her face. “him. nam-gyu. he just texted me.”

her mouth drops open. “oh my gosh.”

you’re staring at the screen like it’s going to explode. and maybe it has, in a way. your heart is already thudding hard enough to make your hands shake.

you read it again. and again. it’s short, sure. boring, even. just hey. but it might as well be a love letter at this point.

“okay, what do i say? i need to say something back. but not something lame. oh god, what if it is lame?”

your friend rolls onto her stomach and kicks her feet in the air like she’s thirteen again. “just say hi back. or be cool. like ‘hey, stranger.’”

you make a face. “that sounds like something a forty-year-old divorcée says on tinder.”

she laughs. “okay, okay. then keep it simple. just… ‘hey.’”

you hesitate. then type.

you:

hey

and now you’re just sitting there. palms sweating. heart racing. stomach in knots.

“do you think he’ll reply right away?” you whisper.

your friend shrugs. “he texted you first. he’s obviously been thinking about it.”

you blink at her. “…do you think he just got the courage?”

“oh my god, maybe,” she says, eyes lighting up. “maybe he’s been nervous too. maybe he was gonna text sooner but kept chickening out.”

the thought makes your brain go blank for a second. nam-gyu? nervous?

before you can spiral further, your phone buzzes again.

nam-gyu:

sorry for taking a few days

i wasn’t sure if i should text you

you read that over three times before letting out a soft “oh.”

“he was nervous,” you whisper.

“called it,” your friend says smugly.

you exhale, slowly. fingers hovering over the screen like they’re waiting for permission.

you:

i wasn’t sure if you would

but i’m glad you did

there. honest, but not needy. casual, but with a hint. it’s perfect.

he replies almost immediately.

nam-gyu:

me too

you free this week?

your jaw drops.

“oh my god,” you whisper. “he wants to hang out.”

your friend gasps. “like a date hang out?”

you blink at the message again. is this real? is this happening? is this you?

your thumbs shake a little, but you manage to type:

you:

yeah i think so

what did you have in mind?

a moment passes. another buzz.

nam-gyu:

can i show you my favorite spot after my shift one night?

i promise it’s not a club

you grin, all warm and weightless. you can’t stop smiling.

you:

sounds perfect

your friend squeals and grabs a pillow to scream into. you do the same.

this is real, and it’s only just beginning.

it’s been two days since the text. two days of overthinking, overanalyzing, and over-dramatizing every possible scenario in your head.

and tonight… it’s actually happening.

nam-gyu is meeting you after his shift. he didn’t tell you exactly where he’s taking you. just that it’s somewhere quiet, somewhere he likes. and that he wants you to see it.

you’ve never hated your closet more.

“just wear what you feel good in,” your friend says from the edge of your bed, scrolling through her phone while you hold up a fifth maybe-outfit with a groan.

“i feel good in oversized hoodies and socks that don’t match,” you mutter.

“then wear those,” she deadpans. “he already likes you.”

you give her a look. “i need to look like… i didn’t try too hard, but also like i’m not a total mess.”

she stands up and goes straight to the rack, already knowing what she’s looking for. within seconds, she holds up a plain black fitted tee and a short black skirt with a little slit on the side.

“this,” she says. “simple. cute. a little flirty, but comfy.”

you blink. “…that’s actually perfect.”

“of course it is,” she grins. “and throw on the black leg warmers. make it a whole vibe.”

fifteen minutes later, you’re dressed, hair fixed just right, makeup soft and simple. you glance at yourself in the mirror and… okay, yeah. you feel good. you look like you, but the kind of you who deserves a second look.

your phone buzzes.

nam-gyu:

off now

meet me outside the club?

you stare at the message for a second. then exhale. “it’s time.”

your friend gives you a dramatic hug. “don’t trip. don’t black out. and if he tries to kiss you, lean in.”

you laugh, nerves fluttering like a thousand tiny birds in your chest.

outside the club, it’s quieter than usual. it’s late enough that the line is gone, but early enough that the neon still glows faintly behind the tinted windows. you’re waiting near the corner, arms tucked into yourself even though the night is warm.

you hear the door swing open.

you don’t have to look to know it’s him.

you do anyway.

he’s in a dark jacket, sleeves pushed up, hands in his pockets, hair a little messier than usual. his eyes scan until they find you.

and then he smiles. just a little.

“hey,” he says, walking over.

“hey.” your voice comes out softer than expected.

his eyes flick down, taking in your outfit for a brief second. he doesn’t say anything about it. doesn’t compliment or stare. but something about the way his gaze lingers. quiet and warm and lowkey appreciative, makes your stomach flip anyway.

“you look comfortable,” he says finally. “i like that.”

you laugh, a little breathless. “thanks. i didn’t want to… try too hard.”

“you didn’t have to.” he shrugs. “you look good.”

your heart does a little jump.

he nods toward the street. “come on. it’s not far.”

you fall into step beside him. it’s easy, somehow. the silence between you is soft, not awkward. like you both know the pace. like this was always meant to happen.

“so…” you say after a minute, “are you going to tell me where we’re going, or…?”

he glances at you. “nope.”

you snort. “wow. mysterious.”

“you’ll see.”

the city gets quieter as you walk. less neon, more shadows. more sky. and then finally, after a few more turns, he stops in front of a small tucked-away building.

it’s a rooftop café. not open to the public at this hour, but the side gate creaks open when he pushes it. you follow him up a narrow staircase, past some plants and old patio furniture. and then, the view.

the city skyline is spread out in front of you, glittering and alive but far enough to feel like it belongs to someone else. it’s peaceful. high up. removed.

he looks at you. “this is my favorite place to breathe.”

you don’t speak for a moment. just take it in.

then, quietly, “thank you for showing me.”

he shrugs again, but there’s something shy about it now. “thought you might like it.”

you glance at him, catching the way his fingers twitch slightly by his side, like he wants to reach for something.

you don’t move. you just smile.

“i do.”

you don’t know how long you’ve been up here.

maybe twenty minutes. maybe an hour. it doesn’t really matter. time feels loose around nam-gyu, like it drips slow, stretches, then snaps back all at once.

he doesn’t talk much at first. just sits beside you on the ledge, legs dangling into the warm night air, one hand braced against the concrete between you. he offers you a can of something cold and vaguely citrusy, and you take it without thinking.

he doesn’t look at you right away. he just watches the skyline, the way the lights pulse and flicker, blinking like a heartbeat. you do the same.

and it’s nice.

it’s… calm.

not the kind of silence that begs to be filled, but the kind that gives you room to think.

“you always come here?” you ask eventually, voice soft.

he nods. “when i can. after late shifts. before big ones.”

“does anyone else know about it?”

he glances at you now, and there’s a quiet flicker in his eyes. something unreadable, but not cold.

“just you.”

you swallow. hard.

he looks away again, leans back on his hands, shoulders relaxed in a way you’ve never seen from him on the job.

you’re used to seeing him behind the bar. in the glow of club lights, all sharp cheekbones and calm confidence and quick hands. the guy who moves like he’s already figured out the next five steps before you’ve even blinked.

but up here, he’s softer. unguarded. still a little distant, but not in a cold way. like he’s giving you space to come closer, if you want.

“you’re quieter than i thought you’d be,” you murmur.

he raises a brow. “is that a bad thing?”

“no. just surprising.”

he gives a soft huff of amusement, then sips from his can.

“people say that a lot. guess i give off the wrong impression.”

you shrug. “maybe you give off the kind of impression that makes people want to know more.”

that makes him pause. you think you see his lips twitch, just slightly.

“do you?”

you blink. “do i…?”

he turns his head, looks at you more directly this time. “want to know more?”

your heart stutters.

your mouth is dry.

your brain, unhelpfully, decides to blank completely.

“…yeah.”

he hums, quiet and satisfied, like that’s all he needed to hear. like he already knew.

you sit like that for a while. sipping your drink, trading little glances that feel like too much and not enough.

he tells you about the first time he found this rooftop—some quiet night when he was younger, needing space, needing air. he says it like it’s nothing, but you hear it. the loneliness tucked in between the words. the reason this place matters.

you nod and share something small too. not anything big, not a sob story. just a memory from your own life where you felt like everything was too loud and you needed somewhere to just be.

he listens. really listens. no interruptions, no fidgeting. just steady eyes and steady breathing, like the whole world stopped to make room for what you’re saying.

when you stop talking, he doesn’t rush to fill the silence.

“i’m glad you came,” he says finally.

you glance over. “me too.”

and it’s quiet again, but different now. warmer. heavier, in the way a moment can be when something’s about to shift.

he stands after a while, stretches his arms above his head, then offers you his hand.

“come here.”

you blink. “where?”

“closer.”

you hesitate, then take it.

he pulls you gently, steady, until you’re standing in front of him. not too close. but not far either.

“you were shaking when i texted you,” he says suddenly. not teasing, just matter-of-fact.

you freeze. “wait…how do you know that?”

he smirks, just slightly. “your friend told me. said you almost passed out.”

you groan and bury your face in your hands. “i’m going to kill her.”

he laughs. not loud, but real. warm. and then, gently, he reaches out, brushing your hands down so he can see your face again.

you stare up at him, caught in the space between panic and something dangerously close to butterflies.

“it was kind of cute,” he says, and there’s something softer in his eyes now. “you trying not to look at me. looking anyway.”

you bite your lip. “you noticed that?”

“of course i did.” he says it like it was obvious. like he was watching you just as much as you were watching him.

you want to say something. anything. but you don’t get the chance because he steps just a little closer. not enough to cross a line, but enough to make your breath hitch.

“you still nervous?” he asks quietly.

you nod. “a little.”

he leans in, not touching, not pressing, just near.

“don’t be.”

and with that, he pulls back, lets go of your hand, and turns back toward the ledge. like he didn’t just make your heart crash into your ribs.

you stand there for a second, trying to reboot your entire system.

nam-gyu glances over his shoulder. smirks.

“you coming, or are you gonna keep staring?”

you roll your eyes and follow him back to the ledge, pretending you’re not blushing.

but he knows.

he definitely knows.

the walk back starts slow.

not the kind of slow that means you’re tired or bored, but the kind where neither of you really want it to end.

the streets are emptier now. quieter. just the sound of your footsteps echoing against the sidewalk and the occasional car humming in the distance. the city feels smaller like this, like it’s folding in around the two of you.

you’re talking about nothing in particular. something about bad music at the club, some weird guy who tried to dance behind you once. nam-gyu listens, chuckling under his breath, and you can feel the air between you shifting again. light, but charged.

you’re animated when you speak. hands moving a little when you get into the story, your skirt swaying just enough to catch the corner of his eye.

he’s looking.

he doesn’t mean to.

okay, maybe he does.

but only in quick, stolen glances. when your head’s turned, or when you’re stepping ahead just slightly.

his eyes trace the curve of your waist, the way your shirt clings to your back, the soft movement of your legs as the skirt flutters over the tops of your thighs.

it’s subtle. respectful.

but he’s definitely looking.

you don’t notice. not really. you’re too focused on keeping your voice steady, even though your heart’s been skipping every other beat since you left the rooftop.

at one point, you laugh, tilting your head back, eyes squinting a little, and he swears under his breath, so quietly not even he hears it.

you’re pretty.

you’ve always been pretty.

but now, in the dim streetlights and soft shadows, wearing that outfit like it wasn’t chosen specifically to get his attention (even though it very much was)…

you look good.

and worse, he likes that he notices.

he likes the little flip in his stomach when your fingers brush his by accident.

he likes the heat in his chest when you tilt your head toward him to ask something softly.

you stop walking at a red light, waiting at the corner with your arms folded loosely across your chest. you glance up at him, and for a second, he doesn’t look away in time.

you catch it.

not the whole thing, but just enough. the way his gaze was on your mouth. then your legs. then up again.

you raise a brow. “what?”

he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t act flustered. he just blinks, casually.

“nothing,” he says, voice cool. “you talk a lot with your hands.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “that’s not what you were looking at.”

“sure it was.”

the light turns green and he starts walking again.

you follow.

you bump into his side lightly. “liar.”

he smirks. “you gonna punish me for it?”

you go still for half a second, surprised by the casual boldness of it, but he just chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction.

you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“you’re not as quiet as you pretend to be.”

“i never said i was innocent.”

you glance sideways. “and what exactly are you, then?”

he shrugs. “curious.”

the word hangs in the air a little heavier than expected.

you swallow. look away. try not to read into it too much.

but your pulse betrays you.

and he can probably hear it.

the rest of the walk is more of the same—

close, teasing, quiet tension settling in the space between your steps.

he walks you all the way to your door.

doesn’t ask. just does it. like it’s obvious.

you pause when you get there, hand on the knob, heart suddenly slamming against your ribs because…

now what?

you look at him, waiting. hoping. not expecting.

he looks at you, still calm.

“i had fun,” you say softly.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

his gaze flicks down again, one last glance over your frame, slower this time, like he’s letting himself indulge in the view now that the night’s almost over.

then, eyes meeting yours again, he says, “we should do it again.”

you nod, barely breathing. “i’d like that.”

he doesn’t kiss you.

doesn’t ask to come in.

doesn’t linger too long.

but his eyes say a lot.

and the way he leans in, just a little, like he’s memorizing your face before leaving says even more.

“goodnight,” he murmurs, voice lower now.

“night,” you whisper back.

and then he’s walking away.

slow. sure. hands in his pockets again.

you don’t go inside right away.

you wait until he turns the corner. until you can’t see him anymore.

and when you finally do, you lean against the door once it clicks shut, breath catching in your throat.

after a while, you’re fresh out of the shower, damp hair clinging to your shoulders, the warm scent of soap still wrapped around you like steam.

your towel slips slightly lower when you bend to pick up your phone from the sink. you expect a meme. maybe your friend checking in.

but it’s not her.

nam-gyu 🤍

are you still up

fuck

i shouldn’t be texting you

but i can’t sleep

you looked so good tonight it’s driving me crazy

sorry sorry ignore me

unless you’re awake

pls

i feel insane

can you call me

you don’t have to say anything just pick up

i’m losing it here

your lips curl.

you pad barefoot to your bed, still dripping a little, towel tugged tight around your chest.

you glance down at the screen again. he hasn’t messaged since the last one.

so you call.

he picks up like he was waiting for it, voice low and full of static tension. “hello?”

“hey,” you say, soft and slow, settling against your pillows. “you okay?”

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath. “no. i mean…fuck. yes. not really.”

you hum. “what’s wrong?”

a pause. you let it stretch out, just to hear him squirm.

“…nothing. never mind. this was dumb.”

“really?” you tease, feigning innocence. “because those messages didn’t sound like nothing. kinda sounded like you were having a moment.”

he groans, quiet and guttural. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“that tone. like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

you smile, smug but still playing coy.

“i really don’t. why don’t you tell me?”

another pause.

then a soft, breathy, “fuck.”

“nam-gyu,” you coax. “say it.”

“…i can’t stop thinking about you.”

“that’s sweet.”

“not like that,” he whispers. “not just that. it’s…fuck, it’s your mouth, your thighs, the way you looked at me when you caught me staring. i haven’t been able to stop thinking about your body. you wore that skirt on purpose, didn’t you?”

you smirk. “maybe.”

“jesus,” he mutters. “i’ve been hard since i got home. i tried everything. i even got in the shower, but it didn’t help. it just made it worse. i kept imagining you behind me, sliding your hands down my chest, telling me what to do…”

you hum, dragging your fingers lightly across your thigh.

“what do you want me to do, nam-gyu?”

he hesitates.

then breaks.

“tell me to touch myself. please.”

you lean back against your pillows, satisfied.

“then do it. slow.”

“fuck…”

you hear his hand move, the subtle wet sound of skin on skin, and it sends heat straight through you.

“are you imagining me touching you instead?”

“yes,” he groans. “your hands, your mouth, your voice in my ear just like this.”

“tell me how it feels.”

“so good,” he pants. “hurts, kinda. like i need more. need you.”

your breath catches at that. you squeeze your thighs together but don’t touch yet. not until he earns it.

“you wanna come already?” you murmur.

“no…yes—fuck, i can’t yet.”

“you better not,” you warn. “you don’t come until i say so.”

he moans softly, the sound raw and needy.

“say it.”

he swallows. “i won’t come until you say so.”

“good. now speed up a little.”

you can hear the shift in rhythm. his breathing faster, the slick sound sharper now.

“fuckfuckfuck, please…say something else.”

“you looked so good tonight,” you whisper. “but you were so obvious, nam-gyu. staring at my thighs. my ass. my lips. if you wanted me that badly, you should’ve just begged for it.”

he groans like he’s in pain. “i am begging—please, i need to come—”

“not yet.”

he whimpers. whimpers.

like he’s falling apart at the sound of your voice alone.

you trail a hand down your stomach, finally letting your fingers dip between your legs.

“i’m touching myself now,” you say sweetly. “and you don’t get to come until i do.”

he gasps, desperate, broken. “fuck, that’s not fair—”

“you called me, baby. you don’t get to make the rules.”

you work yourself slowly, deliberately, hips rolling against your hand, and every soft sound you make into the phone has him gasping on the other end.

“you’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he chokes out. “i wanna hear you…please, tell me what you’re doing—”

you moan quietly, just enough to drive him crazy.

“fingers in slow. two of them now. fuck, i’m so wet, nam-gyu. just from listening to you beg.”

his hand speeds up again. you hear him breathing so hard now, voice wrecked.

“can i cum now?” he whimpers. “please. i can’t—I’m so fucking close—”

you grin, voice low.

“you wanna cum, baby?”

“yes—yes, please—i need to—”

you stay silent

“please,” he groans, falling apart. “please let me come. i’ll do anything. i’ll get on my knees for you. i’ll let you tell me what to do forever. just please—”

you arch into your hand, breath catching.

you’re close too now, thighs trembling, heat pulsing with every word out of his mouth.

“come for me,” you whisper. “now.”

and he loses it.

you hear the moan he tries to hold back. sharp, ragged, dragged from deep in his chest. the sound of his hand faltering, breath gasping, curse words spilling between moans like he forgot how to function.

you come right after, pushing yourself over the edge with a sharp gasp, his broken voice in your ear making everything twist tighter, hotter, deeper.

for a few seconds, all you hear is breathing.

deep. shaky.

both of you trying to catch your breath.

“holy fuck,” he finally says.

you smirk, lazily satisfied. “feel better now?”

“…yes. no. i don’t even know.”

you laugh. “you’re lucky i picked up.”

“i’m gonna think about this every night for the rest of my life.”

you stretch across the sheets, smug. “maybe i’ll let you return the favor next time.”

he groans. “don’t tease me like that.”

“i’m not. i mean it.”

you hear him exhale again. softer now.

“…i really like you,” he murmurs.

your heart skips.

but your voice stays smooth.

“i know.”

you wake up to sunlight leaking through your curtains and your phone buzzing quietly against your pillow.

your head is foggy. your mouth dry. your towel… half on, half off, barely clinging to your chest like it gave up sometime in the middle of the night.

you blink at your screen. the call ended.

nam-gyu 🤍

good morningg

you fell asleep on me

i’m heading to work now, i’ll text you later

…

what.

no follow-up. no voice note. no “wow that was hot” or “you ruined me.”

just a smiley face and casual talk to you later.

as if you didn’t just…

as if he didn’t…

as if you both didn’t literally lose your minds over the phone six hours ago.

you throw the phone across your bed, then scramble to grab it again.

“no no no no”

you do what any normal person would do in a full-blown, post-horny identity crisis:

you call your best friend.

“hello?” she answers, groggy. “why are you calling me before noon? did you die? did you kill someone?”

“i did something worse,” you whisper, completely horrified. “i dommed him.”

“…what?”

“i DOMMED him.”

a beat.

“okay i’m on my way.”

you don’t even hang up.

fifteen minutes later she’s at your door with her hair in a claw clip, iced coffee in hand, wearing pajamas and a look of pure curiosity.

“talk. now.”

you collapse back on your bed, towel still questionably wrapped around you, phone pressed to your chest like it betrayed you.

“he texted me good morning. like we didn’t have a full-on phone sex meltdown last night. i told him what to do. i told him when to come. i called him baby. i was saying shit i didn’t even know i could say.”

your friend blinks. “so you’re telling me… quiet, flustered, crush-on-the-club-boy you… turned into a whole dom goddess last night?”

“i don’t know who that was,” you groan, dragging a pillow over your face. “she possessed me. she used my voice. i’m scared of her.”

she’s already laughing, obnoxiously loud. “did he like it?”

“he begged. like actually said ‘please’ and everything. i think i broke him. or imprinted on him. or both.”

you peek out from under the pillow. “and then this morning he just… went to work. like he didn’t sound like a porn audio come to life last night.”

she grins. “maybe he’s playing it cool.”

“or maybe i traumatized him.” you sit up, flailing slightly. “what if he thinks i’m always like that? i don’t do that. i’ve literally never even…. i don’t command. i’m more of a ‘may i please hold your hand and cry about it’ kind of girl.”

“okay,” she says, sipping her coffee, “first of all, you’re being dramatic. second of all, he clearly loved it. third of all, this is what happens when you repress your crush for too long. it explodes. violently. with orgasms.”

you throw a stuffed animal at her.

“i’m never speaking to him again,” you declare. “i’ll move. change my name. delete all evidence of that phone call. i’ll become a monk.”

“you’ll do none of that and you’ll text him when he gets off work.”

you flop back dramatically. “what if he hates me now?”

“he doesn’t. if anything, he’s probably texting his friends like ‘bro i just got spiritually dommed by the hottest girl alive and i think i’m in love.’”

you stare at the ceiling.

then sigh.

“…do i text him first?”

“hell no. you made him beg. let him sweat.”

“you’re a menace.”

“you’re a dom now. own it.”

you both burst into laughter.

your phone buzzes again.

nam-gyu

hope you’re having a good day

i can’t stop thinking about your voice btw

call me tonight if you want, won’t force you though

your face goes red.

your friend peeks over your shoulder.

“yeah,” she says smugly. “he’s so into it.”

you’re still holding the phone like it might bite you.

your friend reads over your shoulder again, sipping her coffee with the most annoying grin on her face.

you groan. “how is he acting so normal about it? he literally just dropped ‘i can’t stop thinking about your voice’ like we didn’t verbally destroy each other twelve hours ago.”

“you did destroy him, though. respectfully. i’m proud.”

“i can’t go outside ever again.”

she tosses a pillow at you. “actually… you can. and you will. because we’re going out again.”

you blink. “excuse me?”

“you heard me. we’re going to that same club. tonight.”

“absolutely not.”

“okay but hear me out…yes.”

you sit up, panic rising. “what if he thinks we’re going to do that again? what if he wants more? what if i want more?” your voice gets higher with each sentence.

“then you get more?” she says, completely unbothered. “this is a win-win situation.”

“i can’t just go back there and look him in the eyes after—after last night! i told him what to do! i made him say please! he literally—i literally—ugh!”

she just stares at you, waiting for your little dramatic spiral to burn out. once you’re done flailing and burying your face into the couch, she goes, “text him.”

“no.”

“yes.”

“no!!”

she snatches your phone, types something, then shoves it into your lap.

you look down.

she wrote:

hey are you free sometime soon? wanna see you againnn

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU—”

“press send.”

“i’m going to have a heart attack.”

“press. send.”

your thumb hovers like the phone might explode. your stomach does that flip thing again.

and then…

you press it.

you fling the phone across the room immediately.

your friend cackles. “what are you gonna do if he says yes?”

“i don’t know!! combust?? ascend to the next spiritual plane?? move to a rural village and live among goats??”

you’re pacing now, hands in your hair.

your phone dings.

“no—oh no—he answered! ”

you dive for it.

nam-gyu

yeah i’d really like that

when are you free?

you sit back down like your knees gave out. “he wants to see me again. after all that. he’s not scared. what if i’m scared?”

your friend pats your head like a proud parent. “you made the man lose his soul and he’s asking for a second round. you’re winning.”

“this is a nightmare.”

“this is romance. now text him back and figure out a day. i’m going to help you pick another dangerously hot outfit.”

you text back with shaky fingers:

what about saturday night?

he replies in under a minute.

nam-gyu

saturday works

should i meet you there again or pick you up?

you’re pretty sure you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

your friend stares at the message and says, without blinking,

“oh yeah. he’s in deep.”

saturday night hits harder than it should.

you’re standing in front of your mirror, holding up outfit option number four, while your best friend lies belly-down on your bed like she’s watching a live fashion show.

“nope,” she says. “not hot enough.”

“i’m not trying to seduce him,” you lie.

she looks at you. “babe. you dommed him over the phone and he asked to see you again. the bar is gone. the tension is built. he’s already halfway seduced.”

you groan, flopping onto the floor.

“you need to look effortlessly hot. like you didn’t try. like you just woke up and accidentally made him lose his mind.”

“…how do i do that?”

she grins.

ten minutes later, she hands you the outfit.

simple black spaghetti strap top, low cut just enough to tease but not scream it.

soft denim shorts that technically cover everything, but your thighs are out and they cling when you move.

and a pair of chunky sneakers that make you look like a walking daydream.

you stare at yourself in the mirror.

“…am i about to destroy a man?”

“absolutely,” she says, smug. “you’re welcome.”

you meet nam-gyu outside the club just before ten.

he’s already there, waiting by the wall, hands in his pockets, hoodie half-zipped, hair slightly messy like he just got off shift or maybe fussed with it before coming over.

when he spots you, he freezes.

and stares.

just for a second too long.

his eyes flick down, then back up, and his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“hey,” he says, voice lower than usual. “you look…”

his words trail off.

you raise a brow, smug now that the tables are turning. “i look…?”

he clears his throat, shaking his head like he’s rebooting. “good. really good.”

“you don’t look too bad yourself,” you reply, trying not to let it show that your heart is tap-dancing in your chest.

inside, the music’s loud but not overwhelming. colored lights pulse against the walls, the kind of place where people move slow and close. the same corner table is open.

he slides into the seat across from you.

and then the tension starts.

his gaze keeps dropping to your legs, then shooting back to your face like he got caught.

you pretend not to notice. mostly.

when you lean forward to sip your drink, his eyes lock on the dip of your collarbone.

when you laugh too hard and touch his arm, he goes quiet for a second too long.

and when your knees bump under the table… he doesn’t move away.

you feel it. that pull. like you’re sitting too far apart and too close all at once.

every brush of skin feels electric. every glance is heavy.

you ask about his week.

he tells you a story about a drunk guy at work who tried to tip him with a gum wrapper.

you laugh and sip your drink, eyes on him the whole time.

his fingers drum the edge of the table like he doesn’t know what else to do with them.

“you okay?” you ask, teasing just a little.

“yeah,” he says quickly. “just… trying not to stare too hard.”

you bite your lip. “why not?”

he smiles, but it’s tight. “because i’m trying to be respectful. and you look like a sin.”

you blink.

okay.

cool.

normal.

heart rate stable. not blushing. at all.

“…you’re not too bad with words when you try,” you murmur.

he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, and the way he looks at you, dark, focused, like you’re the only thing in the room makes you shift in your seat.

“that’s funny,” he says quietly. “because the other night, i couldn’t say anything unless you told me to.”

your breath catches.

his tone is casual. too casual.

you try to cover the sudden spike in your pulse with a smile. “so you didlike that.”

he shrugs, but his jaw tenses. “i haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

not really.

so you sip your drink again. legs crossed just enough to drive him crazy.

by the time you’re both finished, the air between you is practically buzzing.

you walk out together. close. arms brushing.

he doesn’t say anything, but his hand almost reaches for yours once.

then doesn’t.

and somehow, that makes it worse.

by the time you’re outside, your skin is hot, your thoughts are a mess, and you’re definitely not as cool and in control as you were pretending to be.

but he opens the door for you. walks you to your place.

and before you part ways, he looks at you one more time…

and says, “call me when you get home.”

you hesitate for half a second.

just one.

he’s about to turn and leave, head dipping with that soft little smile of his like nothing ever happened between you. like your voice didn’t wreck him over the phone. like he isn’t still aching from how you told him exactly what to do.

you breathe out,

then say it.

“wait.”

he stops.

turns.

you step forward.

“come inside.”

his brows lift slightly. his expression doesn’t change much, but his body does. shoulders tightening, breath hitching, hands sinking deeper into his jacket pockets like he knows exactly where this is going but doesn’t want to assume.

he swallows.

“you sure?”

his voice is low. cautious. careful.

you nod slowly. “i don’t want to talk on the phone tonight.”

he doesn’t answer right away.

just steps inside when you open the door.

and everything is suddenly so quiet.

he stands in your hallway while you slip off your shoes. you feel his eyes on you—same way he looked at you all night. full of want. full of restraint.

“do you want something to drink?” you ask, pretending like your pulse isn’t hammering in your throat.

“no.”

you turn.

his hands are still in his pockets. his mouth is a tight line. he’s watching you like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

you do.

you walk straight up to him, close enough that your chests almost touch. your fingers brush the front of his jacket, slowly pushing it open.

he doesn’t stop you. just stands there, tense.

“you’ve been looking at me all night,” you murmur.

his breath stutters.

“you looked at my thighs. my chest. you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

his jaw flexes.

but he still says nothing.

“say it.”

he meets your gaze. “you already know.”

you smile a little. “i want to hear you say it anyway.”

a pause.

then…

“yeah. i couldn’t stop looking.”

“why?”

he licks his lips. exhales slowly.

“because i wanted to touch you.”

you hum, fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt, letting your nails graze lightly up his stomach. he shivers.

“say what you really want.”

his mouth opens. closes. opens again.

you see the conflict—the push and pull, the need.

and then he cracks.

“…i want you to ruin me.”

your fingers curl into his shirt, dragging him down just enough to whisper into his ear.

“take your shoes off.”

he obeys.

you lead him to your bedroom.

the second the door shuts, the tension breaks. you push him down onto the edge of your bed. he stares up at you, hands clenching the sheets.

you climb into his lap.

his breath catches.

he tries to reach for you. instinctive, needy, but you grab his wrists and pin them to the bed.

“don’t touch me unless i tell you to.”

he groans. his head falls back slightly, chest rising like he’s struggling to breathe.

you press your body flush to his, and he twitches beneath you.

“look at you,” you whisper. “i’ve barely even touched you and you’re already like this.”

he grits his teeth. “i can’t help it.”

“you’re pathetic,” you murmur, voice laced with heat. “so desperate.”

his hips jerk.

“god, you like that?” you tease. “you like being talked down?”

he nods. fast. almost frantic. “yes.”

you lean forward, biting his earlobe gently. “say it.”

“i like it,” he breathes. “i like when you call me pathetic. i like it when you tell me what to do.”

you reach between you and undo his pants, slow, deliberate.

he twitches under your fingers.

you pull him out, and the way he moans, shaky and sharp, goes straight to your core.

“you’re hard already,” you say, mock-sweet. “poor thing. is this what happens when you don’t get to cum for a few days?”

he whimpers. actually whimpers.

“use your words.”

“yes,” he pants. “i can’t stop thinking about you. about your voice. about how you sounded when you told me what to do.”

you kiss him—sudden and rough.

he moans into your mouth, bucking up into your hand, but you pull away just as fast and squeeze his thighs to keep him still.

“don’t move.”

he groans again.

you stroke him slowly. deliberately.

his head drops back. he’s shaking.

“fuck,” he whispers. “please. please let me touch you.”

you smile.

“you want to be good for me?”

“yes.”

“then shut up and take it.”

he moans again. louder this time.

you tease him, keep him on the edge. fast strokes, then slow. lips on his neck. teeth grazing his jaw. he’s trembling under you now, hips lifting off the bed like he’s losing control.

you don’t stop.

not when he gasps. not when he begs.

“you’re close,” you whisper. “aren’t you?”

he nods. “i—I’m gonna…please—”

you stop completely.

his whole body tenses.

“what the fuck—” he starts, breathless.

you tilt his chin up. “you don’t cum unless i say so.”

he groans like it physically hurts.

“i could make you wait,” you murmur. “make you sit here hard and aching all night. would you beg for it again?”

he nods. fast. desperate. “yes. anything.”

you lean in, mouth by his ear.

“then beg.”

he does.

“please. please let me cum. please use me. i want it. i need it. fuck, i need you—”

you slam your mouth against his and finally, finally, sink down onto him.

his entire body arches. the sound he makes is feral.

“fuckfuck—”

you set the pace, grinding down slow, squeezing him tight, your nails dragging down his chest. he’s gasping, hands still clenched in the sheets like if he touches you he’ll explode.

“you feel so good,” you whisper, moaning softly in his ear. “so full. you’re doing so good for me.”

he whines.

you fuck him slow. deep. then fast, grinding, riding, dragging him to the edge and pulling back, again and again.

his face is flushed, mouth open, sweat dripping from his temple. you couldn’t help but admire how hard he was trying to stay quiet, but you both knew he couldn’t. that phone call said a lot about you two, and you loved what you heard.

you leaned into his ear. “cum,” you whisper.

and he does. loud, shuddering, broken.

you don’t stop.

you fuck him through it, hips slapping, hands pinning his wrists, riding every wave of his orgasm until he’s gasping, twitching, eyes rolling back.

“too much,” he chokes out. “i can’t…please—”

but you’re not done yet.

“you wanted to be ruined,” you murmur. “don’t stop now.”

you watch him unravel under you.

sweat clings to his skin, his jaw slack, pupils blown wide.

his hands are fisted in your sheets, knuckles pale like he’s clinging to sanity by a thread.

and you’re not slowing down. not even a little.

“too much,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “fuck…please, i can’t—”

you tilt your head, hips grinding with slow, deliberate pressure, dragging another helpless moan from him.

“you can,” you murmur. “you can take it. i know you can.”

he whimpers. choked, broken.

and it only makes you wetter.

you ride him hard, fast, then grind slow, watching his eyes flutter. you’re soaked. everything’s slick and hot and messy now. every thrust has his thighs twitching. he’s so sensitive you can feel it. each little spasm that runs through him when your hips slam into his.

“look at you,” you whisper. “you came already and you’re still fucking hard.”

his mouth opens, but nothing comes out except another shaky groan.

“you like being used, don’t you?”

he nods, biting his lip so hard it’s going white.

“say it.”

“yes,” he gasps. “yes, fuck, i love it” he tried to whisper

you moan softly, leaning forward to wrap a hand around his throat, just enough pressure to keep him in place, to make his breath hitch.

“you want to cum again?”

you grind down slow. full. tight.

his hips buck before he can even answer.

“please,” he gasps.“please, let me i’ll be good, i swear, i’ll do anything—”

you speed up again, hand slipping from his throat to rake down his chest, nails leaving marks behind. he’s trembling, legs spread wide under you, hair sticking to his forehead, neck flushed red from the heat.

you’re close too. so close.

“don’t stop,” he begs. “please, don’t stop…i’m gonna—please—”

you ride him harder, hips snapping, and the noise of skin against skin fills the room, filthy and loud. his moans are getting higher, messier, breath hitching every time you slam back down.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!”

he’s losing it. unraveling. breaking apart under you.

and you don’t stop.

you chase your own high, grinding down with each thrust, tightening around him until you’re gasping, shaking, eyes squeezed shut—

and then it hits.

you cry out, hips stuttering, clenching around him as your orgasm crashes down in hot, pulsing waves.

and he feels it.

“fuck…fuck—” he shouts, and then he’s coming again, thick and messy and deep inside you, hips jerking up into yours like his body’s not even his anymore.

you don’t stop moving until every last tremor is milked from his body. until he’s completely still, completely spent, chest heaving under yours like he just ran a marathon.

you slow down, finally easing your hips to a stop and letting your weight settle on top of him. his arms lift weakly, like he’s trying to hold you, but they drop back to the bed just as fast.

his voice is a whisper now.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

you smile, breathless, lips brushing his jaw.

“you liked it.”

“…i fucking loved it.”

you kiss him. slow this time. gentle. and he melts into it.

his whole body feels boneless now. like you’ve drained every last ounce of tension from him.

and you’re not going to say it out loud, not yet.

but the way he looks at you right now?

you’re pretty sure he’d let you do this again.

anytime. anywhere. any way you want.

you finally pull yourself out of bed when your legs stop shaking.

the room’s still thick with the heat of what just happened. air warm, sheets tangled, your skin tingling from every place he touched you, kissed you, filled you. you don’t say anything as you slip off the bed. he watches you go, lazily, eyes half-lidded, lips parted like he might say something, but doesn’t.

your steps are slow, careful.

you grab a towel, your sleep shirt, and disappear into the bathroom.

the light is harsh at first, too bright for your still-foggy head, and for a second, you just stand there, staring at yourself in the mirror.

your lips are swollen.

there’s a light bruise on your neck.

your thighs are trembling again and you’re not even moving.

you press a hand to your chest. your heart’s still racing.

you breathe in. out. rinse your face. clean yourself up, slow and steady. you pull on your shirt. brush your teeth. run your fingers through your hair.

your phone is charging next to the sink.

you unplug it, turn it over, open messages. you stare at the screen for a second, then type out one single thing:

you

i did something

you don’t wait for a response.

you slip your phone into your hand and head back to the room.

he’s still there. hasn’t moved. blanket half-kicked off, one arm bent behind his head. he’s looking at you now. quiet. heavy-lidded. like he’s too tired to say much, but still wants to watch you walk.

you crawl back into bed and he shifts without a word, pulls the blanket up around both of you, pulls you into him like instinct.

his hand settles on your hip.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

his fingers stroke your skin slowly. absentminded. his breath is warm against the back of your neck.

you feel like you should say something.

that was intense. way more intense than you expected.

but instead, you just press your hand over his and squeeze it lightly.

he sighs. long and slow. melts against you like he’s never slept like this before.

and honestly… you haven’t either.

you stare at the wall until your eyelids go heavy.

his arm tightens once.

you fall asleep just like that.

warm.

sore.

and not alone.

you wake up warm. too warm, actually.

something heavy is draped over you, and it takes your barely-awake brain a full few seconds to realize it’s not a blanket. it’s an arm. strong and warm and definitely still clinging to your waist, fingers curled loosely into your shirt like you might disappear if he lets go.

you blink slowly.

sunlight spills through the cracks in your blinds. the room is quiet, filled only with the soft sound of breathing, his, steady and deep, and yours, still shallow and sleepy. your back is pressed to his chest. legs tangled. his nose is tucked into the back of your shoulder, and every time he exhales, it sends a little shiver down your spine.

he’s still asleep.

you don’t move.

you just… lie there.

soaking it in.

his chest rises and falls against your back. every now and then, he shifts a little, adjusting without even waking, like his body already knows it doesn’t want to be anywhere else. and you… god, you didn’t know it could feel like this. warm and safe and so deeply natural to be held like this. like you belong there.

you peek over your shoulder. his lips are parted slightly. his hair’s a total mess. and his face…

he looks soft.

softer than last night. younger. his guard’s down completely.

you let yourself watch him for a while.

and then, instinctively, you reach for your phone.

it’s still lying face-down on the nightstand. when you flip it over, you wince. your screen is blinding after the darkness of the room, and you have about eight missed messages.

from her.

you open them, slowly.

bestie 🤍: ????

bestie 🤍: HELLO?

bestie 🤍: i’m literally going insane

bestie 🤍: i saw you read it don’t even do this to me

bestie 🤍: TELL ME EVERYTHING

bestie 🤍: i swear to god if you leave me on read

bestie 🤍: is he STILL THERE

bestie 🤍: pls i’m begging you i need DETAILS

bestie 🤍: i will call you don’t test me

you stare at your phone for a second, fighting a smile, then glance back at him.

still asleep.

you slowly wiggle around to face him, careful not to wake him, but his eyes flutter open anyway. halfway. heavy-lidded and hazy, like he’s still stuck between sleep and dreaming.

“mm… hey.”

his voice is rough. warm. his hand slides up your waist as he blinks at you, then lets out a soft breath and tugs you in a little closer.

“hi,” you whisper, cheeks warming.

he closes his eyes again like that was all he needed. his arm stays around you, firm and certain.

you lie there for a minute, just listening to his breathing again.

“you’re gonna be late,” you murmur.

“hm?”

“work. it’s—” you check the time. “it’s literally ten.”

he hums lazily. doesn’t even flinch. “so?”

“you can’t just—”

he opens his eyes, just barely, and grins.

“what, you kicking me out already?”

you stare at him. “not that either”

he pulls you in again, slow and deliberate. buries his face into the crook of your neck and exhales hard, like he’s been waiting to do that all morning.

“then it’s fine,” he mumbles. “gimme five more minutes.”

your heart does a thing in your chest. a flutter. a skip. something warm and impossible to ignore.

you let him hold you.

your phone buzzes again in your hand.

bestie 🤍: IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME I’M SHOWING UP

you snort quietly and type back just one line:

you: i’m busy. he’s still here.

you don’t wait for the inevitable response. you toss your phone gently back on the nightstand and nestle further into his arms.

he shifts again, tucks you tighter.

and there’s something in the way he holds you now, like he means it. like this isn’t just a post-hookup thing. like he’s not just staying for the cuddles or the morning sex or the comfort of the bed.

he’s staying because he wants to.

you close your eyes and let yourself believe it.

minutes pass. you don’t say much. you don’t need to.

eventually, he murmurs against your skin, “you hungry?”

you nod into the pillow.

“wanna order something?”

“yeah… pancakes?”

he lifts his head just enough to look at you, still sleepy-eyed. “you got a favorite place?”

“mmhmm,” you mumble. “it’s in my phone. lemme grab—”

but before you can move, he’s already reaching over you, long arm stretching across the bed to snatch your phone.

you blink at him.

he just smiles, kisses your forehead, and says, “text your friend back. i’ll handle breakfast.”

you stare at him.

he gives you another kiss. this time, on the cheek. soft and sweet.

and then he rolls over, starts tapping through your food apps like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

like you didn’t completely destroy him last night.

like you didn’t see stars on top of him.

like he didn’t want it again, the second you curled up next to him.

you press your face into the pillow to hide your smile.

your heart’s doing that thing again.

and you don’t even try to stop it this time.

you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, stealing bites of syrup-drenched pancakes off a shared paper plate, when there’s a knock at the door.

not just a knock. a pounding.

you freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. he glances up from his seat on the couch, mid-chew.

you both just stare at each other.

another knock. louder.

“HELLO?!”

your stomach sinks.

“is that—?” he starts.

“oh my god,” you groan, dropping your fork into the plate. “she showed up.”

his brow lifts, amused. “your friend?”

“yup.”

you scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your own leg warmers, and throw him a frantic look. “you—you can’t just be sitting here like this when she…oh my god, she’s going to implode.”

he laughs quietly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “should i leave?”

“no! i mean..no, just… stay here. i’ll handle her.”

you don’t even make it to the door in time.

the knob jiggles and click! she lets herself in.

“okay first of all,” she says as she steps inside, “rude to leave me on read all night—”

she stops cold.

eyes lock on the table. the empty plates. the second cup of coffee. the man on your couch, still barefoot, still in yesterday’s hoodie, sipping from your mug like he lives here.

“no.”

you say nothing.

“NO.”

you wince. “hey…”

“OH MY GOD?!” she shrieks, already flinging her bag to the ground and rushing past you. “you didn’t! you actually did not, wait. did you?”

you close the door behind her slowly, cheeks burning. “can you not yell—”

“do you want to explain,” she says, spinning around to face him like a prosecutor, “or should she?”

he just raises an eyebrow and lifts the mug to his lips again, barely hiding the grin curling at the edges. “you must be the best friend.”

“you’re still here?!”

“looks like it.”

“like… still still? like slept over still? like pancakes and pillow talk and lazy morning sex still?”

you groan into your hands. “we did not have morning sex.”

she gasps. “so you did have night sex?!”

“oh my god.”

“no no no no, you don’t get to oh-my-god me! you texted me i did something and then ghosted me like a coward and now you’re telling me you actually slept with him and he’s just here? like? in the daylight?!”

he waves at her lazily.

“hi,” he says, absolutely unbothered.

she waves back, still in stunned disbelief.

“so like,” she mutters, dropping onto the floor, “are you guys dating now? or are we pretending this is casual? because he looks very not-casual in your favorite mug.”

you shoot her a look. “can you not make this weird?”

“i’m not making it weird. you made it weird by acting like you were too scared to say hi to him a week ago and now you’re out here doing god knows what in leg warmers!”

“what—”

“i’m just saying,” she says, eyes wide, “the character development is insane. like, i blinked and you went from blushing in the corner of the club to domming him over the phone and then riding him unconscious im guessing. what’s next, marriage?!”

he chokes a little on his coffee.

you slap her arm. “shut up!”

he sets his cup down, eyes flicking between you two, still grinning.

“so,” he says casually, “how long does she usually do this?”

you glare. “don’t encourage her.”

your friend was gasping through her laughter. “i like him. keep him. lock him down.”

you shake your head and lean back against the wall, cheeks aching from how hard you’re trying not to laugh.

your friend quiets for a moment. then she just smiles, soft and warm.

“you’re glowing,” she says, like she can’t help it.

you look down.

she’s right.

you kind of are.

you glance at him, and he’s watching you again, like he has been all morning. slow. easy. a little amazed.

and for once, it doesn’t make you nervous.

it just makes you want to keep looking back.

hehe i love my pathetic baby

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game season 3 #namgyu #namgyu x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader #namgyu smut #nam-gyu #player 124 smut #squid game smut #smut

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goddamnitmahtin · 6 months ago

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Jason is a Teenage Dad

Woke up to see my phone open to my notes app and all it says on it is:

Jason is a Teenage Dad

- Jason is 15 and fucking dies.

- Clockwork shenanigans

- Jason drags his body out of the Lazarus

- Meets the eyes of a 3 year old Danny playing with the Joker’s decapitated head.

- Jason takes the child home. It is his now.

So, obviously, I gotta write about it. Enjoy this post based on the vision of delirious 4 am me.

……………….

Clockwork was bored. You would think the ability to see everything everywhere all at once would be overwhelming but it’s actually boring. There’s no suspense when you always know what’s going to happen. But that was all part of his job as the Ancient of time.

Every universe was scripted out. Each one was slightly different from the last, but it still had the same major things in there. For instance, there was always a Gotham in every universe. Sometimes the city itself, sometimes a comic book about the place as if it were fictional. The same with Amity Park except that one universe made it an anime instead of a kids show which was…. A choice.

Most of the time Clockwork just had to make sure that catalyst events happened no matter what the timeline. Like the adoption of Jason Todd. Or the death of Danny Fenton. The meteor that killed the dinosaurs. Stuff like that. Universes that didn’t have enough catalyst events like that tended to implode on themselves if some new event didn’t take its place.

Clockwork was looking at a universe at the moment that was definitely close to being expired. Could he let it happen? Sure. He could. But that wouldn’t have been much fun to watch.

In the universe he was looking at currently, Danny Fenton has all but disappeared at least according to the locals of Amity Park. Which wasn’t that bad. Easily fixable. However the much larger problem was that Jason Todd just died the wrong way. In most universes where his death took place, it always happened that same way as it was a catalyst event for that universe. Jason gets beat up by the joker and then dies in an explosion. Then he gets revived and healed by some assassins in a pit of really fucked up ecto. Standard procedure.

However in the universe Clockwork was looking at, Jason died due to the crowbar. There was no bomb. Infact, Batman didn’t even arrive to the scene until much later than he did in every other universe. The strangest part though, was that after killing Jason Todd, the Joker threw him into the Lazarus himself. There was no downtime or buffer. This kid was going to be alive again by the end of the week and unless Clockwork did some timeline adjustments, it was enough that the entire universe was inevitably going to fall apart.

Obviously fixing it wouldn’t be hard to do. If he did it the easy way. To rewrite Jason’s death. But that was kind of boring. So, Clockwork had a better idea.

…

Jason gasped suddenly and he felt liquid enter his lungs. He opened his eyes to see green. All around him. Shit, if he inhaled anymore liquid he could drown. So he started to try to swim towards what he thought was the surface. His body felt odd and disconnected from his brain making it hard to move but he kept going. He had to keep going. He didn’t want to die.

Finally, he felt his hand break the surface and latch onto a ledge. He pulled himself out of the green glowing Lazarus, trying to cough up as much liquid as possible.

Memories started to flood back to him. The fight. His mom. The Joker. The fucking crowbar. And most notably, no Batman. Batman never came. He was going to kill B for that.

Jason took a few deep breaths and let himself look around. His eyes immediately locked onto a child. Looked to be about 3. Pale with black hair and blue eyes. The boy was sitting with his legs crossed, covered in blood. He was playing with… something?

Jason couldn’t help but worry for the kid, hoping he did t fall into the pit. It was a dangerous place to be especially alone. Jason sat up to get a better look.

The moment he did, he saw the toddler’s eyes dart right into his own, the blue overpowered by a sudden glow of green. Lazarus green. A look of fear ran over the boy’s face as he froze in place.

Jason felt something in his chest churn, almost as if he could feel the fear dripping off of the child. He didn’t want to scare him. He didn’t want to hurt him. He wanted to get them both somewhere a bit more safe.

Jason stared at the boy, trying to not look menacing. He wanted him to know he could trust him. He felt whatever that new something inside his chest was also try to reach out. Jason didn’t notice when his own eyes turned green, but he did notice that the boy’s attitude shifted very quickly.

The toddler’s eyes went back to blue as the look of fear mostly washed out of his face. There was still some apprehension but it seemed that the two of them had silently come to an agreement of sorts that they were not enemies at least.

Jason looked down from the boy’s eyes and into his hands and whatever animosity Jason had within him was completely washed away. This kid had been through something horrific. In the toddler’s small arms was the decapitated and now decaying head of the Joker. Jason’s murderer.

Jason suddenly felt like this child in front of him was more important than anything else. Whatever he had gone through to land him in this place with that head was fucking over. Jason was going to protect this kid until the day he fucking died. Again. This child had gone through unimaginable things and Jason inherently knew that even though he knew nothing about this kid’s story, he was was going to be one of the very few who could really understand what he was going through.

“What is your name?” he asked as softly as he could.

The boy quietly responded in almost a whisper, “Danny.”

This kid was his kid now. To hell with wherever he came from. Jason was now a dad.

…

Bruce was distraught. Devastated. Completely inconsolable. Jason, his son, was dead. The Joker had confirmed it with a video of him laughing over the dead body. That was a week ago now. Bruce didn’t know what to do. He failed Jason. He wasn’t there when he should have. He couldn’t save him.

He had gotten delayed when he found out where Jason had gone and tried to go after him when a kid he’d seen at a few galas before, Tim was dropped out of the sky landing right on top of him with a post it note safety pinned to his back. He ignored it at the time as he was a little preoccupied.

After he got up again after the initial shock and realized it was just a kid, he tried to calm the nerves of young Tim who described watching his die and then being teleported into the sky and dropped. There was a chance that if Batman’s body hadn’t cushioned the fall, he would have been seriously injured.

He knew he couldn’t leave the young kid there by himself. And he knew that he had to find Jason. He didn’t want to bring him along either but the boy insisted that he wanted to come. Was it smart? No. Did he end up bringing Tim with him? Well yes. He was running out of time after all.

But Batman didn’t make it. The place was empty except for the dead body of Jason’s mother and a lot more blood that was undoubtedly his son’s.

Bruce was currently lying in his bed. He hadn’t gone out to do anything except for patrols. It was the only thing he could focus on. It was the the only thing he could bring himself to do. Bruce Wayne had the time to grieve for Jason Todd. Batman on the other hand did not have that. He had to remain vigilant and consistent. More importantly he had to find the Joker and send him away for killing Jason. Which would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t completely disappeared.

Bruce stared at the nightstand. It had the post it note that Tim had on his back when he fell. He had read it hundreds of times. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was just more proof that Jason was dead.

He took the post it note from the nightstand and read it again, hoping it was different. It was not.

Take this kid home. He’s Robin now :)

…

Tim didn’t really know what to do. His plans had come to fruition much faster than he had anticipated. After watching g his parents die, he had sworn to himself that he would find Bruce Wayne, the Batman, and convince him to let him help fight the evil of the city. But he didn’t expect that the moment he made that decision he would he plucked off his feet by unseen hands and then suddenly dropped from the sky.

That was over a week ago. Now, he was sitting on a large sofa in Wayne Manor. He was thinking. All he really had time to do was think. He had seen his first crime scene at Batman’s side and afterwards was brought back to the manor. He was left alone. He hadn’t seen Bruce hardly at all.

He wanted to do more. Go out and help with something. Anything. But Alfred wouldn’t let him go anywhere. So all he could do was think.

Did anything that had happened since his parent died make any sense? No. Joker deviated from his MO. But why? It was so different than anyone would have expected. There was no spectacle or epic battle with the Batman. He was just gone with a dead body behind. Nothing else.

And that was AFTER Tim was teleported into the middle of the sky. If he just had more resources, maybe a computer or some books that he could dive into to, he could figure it out. There had to be SOME reason. Right? But he had already checked the books in the manor library and Alfred wouldn’t let him into the poorly hidden Batcave. He only had his own thoughts.

He would grieve his parents with that time but he could also just as easily do that later. Besides, he had already decided he was going to become a vigilante and help the Batman. And most importantly, there was a puzzle in front of him that he wanted to solve more.

…

Jason knocked on the door the manor. He was nervous to see B again. Since according to newspapers he had been gone for a week. He knew his dad was gonna be mad that he went to see his mom. And mad he was gone so long. Jason knew he was going to get chewed out for it but he just wanted to be home. Especially since he was going to need help raising Danny. He didn’t know how adoption worked and Jason was only 15 but he was sure B knew how to do all that.

Danny was currently in his arms. He was so small compared to Jason now. Before he had died, he was wasn’t nearly this big. Jason had muscle sure but he was still relatively lean. Now, Jason was built more like a brick house. His shoulders were wider than a typical doorway and he was much taller, at least 6’4.

Danny was sleeping at the moment. He still had the Jokers head in his arms. He hadn’t been able to convince the kid to let it go. Which was fine. Jason didn’t really know what to do with it anyways.

Some shuffling was heard and then the door opened. Alfred was staring back at him.

“Hey sorry I was gone,” Jason said, not really sure what else to say.

Alfred looked from Jason to Danny to Jason, double take on Danny. His face was hard to read. Jason was kind of nervous.

Alfred stepped out of the doorway. Behind him was B.

“Jason!?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

Part 2 Part 3

#dc x dp #batfam #danny phantom x dc #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #clockwork #dad Jason #toddler danny #deaged danny #dead joker #jason is a teenage dad

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seasidefallenangel · 4 months ago

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i give an unending dream to you

men who can't fathom a future without you - so they refuse to let it happen ft. sae itoshi, sunday, malleus draconia

this is from @saetiate's post that she was kind enough to let me write a piece based off of

notes: yandere vibes (i'm back to my roots), fem reader, mildly unhealthy relationships, heavy possessiveness on the boys end, title is from this please listen to it and i'll give you ten thousand kisses

༄ sae:

“it’s like i’m fucking talking to a brick wall. the same shit keeps happening and it feels like you’re not trying at all,” you spit out with vitriol, slamming the cabinet shut in the kitchen as the wood splinters beneath your force.

if sae is even hearing you, he shows no signs of it. the entire time you’ve been screaming at him, throwing things, making accusations - he’s just been sitting atop one of the chairs at the island. his demeanor seems rather bored, if anything. you almost wish he’d fight back just so you know your words are reaching him in some way.

it’s only once tears of frustration begin to well in your eyes that he finally sighs and has the gall to ask, “are you finished?”

the sheer audacity of the question causes your tears to fall with anger, spiking your temper once more. you’re half a second away from cursing him out again but you know it’ll get you nowhere. instead, you clench your fists and huff before grabbing your car keys and silently making your way to the front door.

sometimes you forget just how fast sae is, because it’s as if he teleports in front of the door. he stares down at you with what seems to be indifference, but you know him well enough to sense the quiet fury behind his eyes - waiting to break free from its confines.

“you’re not going anywhere,” he tells you with no room to argue, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “not until your little temper tantrum is sorted.”

even though you try to tug away from him, it’s clear he’s not letting this go. sae is both the unstoppable force and the immovable object in everything he does.

he brushes his lips against your ear for a brief moment before kissing beneath it. his voice is nearly a whisper when he speaks, “if you’re done being a brat, i’d like to at least get a word in before you leave and do something stupid.”

you narrow your eyes at him and scoff. well, at least he’s finally acknowledging you. “and if i hear you out, then can i leave?” his lips twitch in amusement.

“not a chance.“

༄ sunday:

the parlor car is eerily silent, the rest of the express having sensed the incoming argument and opted to retreat to their rooms. sunday’s wings are twitching anxiously as he hovers close enough for you to be in his reach but not enough that you’ll freak out on him again.

“my dove,” he says in that soothing voice of his, “don’t you feel you’re overreacting just a bit?”

you want to crush his windpipe for even suggesting it, but something seeps into your brain as his words wrap around the depths of your psyche. it tells you to relax, let yourself be held in your lover's embrace once more. it’s peaceful, calming, alluring in its desire for you to submit yourself into what you know so well.

it’s not your voice at all.

“i should’ve known a control freak like you would try some shit like this,” you manage to get out through gritted teeth. forgive him, he loves you so dearly, echoes in your mind. the words nearly spill from your lips if not for you putting all your willpower into keeping your lips shut.

his expression goes from concern to disapproval in an instant. the sudden invasion of your personal space as he makes his way over isn’t lost on you. it’s his pattern - guilt, control, smother.

“it seems i’ve underestimated you, my little rebel,” he muses, bringing your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “denying the harmony’s influence so easily - it seems you’ve gotten strong without mentioning it to me.”

the implication of his words is clear ; if you can escape his honeyed words, what else will you do to slip from his grasp?

“no matter. you could do with some more training, wouldn’t you agree?”

༄ malleus:

the library is dead silent as you flip through one of the beginners magic textbooks crewel had given you. not that it’s odd for a library to be quiet, but the reason it’s more empty than usual is a rather odd occurrence. “can you linger a bit less menacingly?” you murmur in an irritated tone.

malleus simply blinks owlishly at your request from the other side of the table. you’re used to him following you around out of sheer interest for your ‘human tendencies’ (his words, not yours), but you underestimated how annoying it would be when you’re in the middle of a disagreement.

after a few more moments you slam the book shut with a huff, fully aware you’re not going to get any meaningful studying done with him staring you down in your peripherals. when you stand from the seat he echoes your movements. the students part and scamper away from his path as he follows behind like your shadow.

there’s honestly a good chance you’d be less angry with him if he just gave you some space like you desired, but he’d rather have his horns ripped from his skull than leave you alone for more than thirty seconds.

“have you found it within your heart to forgive me yet, beloved?” he asks calmly, as if it’s somehow your fault that you’re even upset to begin with.

your head whips around in a flash, rage contorting the usually delicate features of your face. he’s either a bonafide manipulator or completely dense, and both of the options seem to piss you off equally at the moment.

“give me a fucking break, malleus!” you yell, not missing the way his eye twitches from your lack of using his nickname. “i put up with a lot of your shit, but i’m seriously sick of you treating my friends like they’re criminals-”

“spade does have a charge on his record, my love,” he counters smoothly, which does nothing to satiate your anger. you pull back when he tries to reach for you, but the swirling clouds beginning to form in the sky make you think twice.

“i care a great deal about your safety and wellbeing. it’d do no good for my future betrothed to be involved in something that endangers your reputation or, sevens forbid, your health.”

out of sheer pettiness, you mutter under your breath, “keep acting like this and there won’t be a betrothed for you to marry.”

his self control snaps like a twig as lightning strikes the bench nearby, making you scream and instinctively leap towards him for protection. his arms quickly wrap around you like a python, trapping you against his body.

“there will be a wedding, and you will soon see the error in your ways. i simply pray you one day come to understand that everything i do is out of my endless love for you,” he coos, but it feels more like a death sentence. whatever his ‘love’ entails, you’re not sure if it’s something you want to stick around for.

not that he’d ever give you a choice.

#blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #bllk x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere #scenarios

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sawmaw · 2 months ago

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hate is just enough

🫀 floyd leech x (fem) reader x jade leech

🫀 hate sex, femdom, sub floyd + jade, edging/denial, overstimulation, bondage, dacryphilia, exhibitionism/voyeurism, honorifics for reader (miss, mommy)

🫀 note: this is also old (around 2 years) and hastily edited, sorry for any potential errors. there isn’t any incest in this, if you were wary! also, the reader is physically strong. i was a little tired of everyone writing us as frail all the time back then💔

Floyd didn’t know why he was feeling like this.

Well, he knew why, he just didn’t know why you.

Tried as he might, he could never convince you to speak more than a few words to him… probably because you immediately associated him with Azul, who you were the least bit fond of.

Floyd had given up completely after you had made your way to Azul’s office to confront him after you’d found Grim had been manipulated into a contract. Floyd remembers trying to stand in your way, but you just grabbed him by the shirt and practically tossed him to the side… and so effortlessly, too.

Oh, how that enraged him to no end. He never had issues with those stronger than him; he usually found a way to intimidate them in the end. You, however, ignored everything he did. His backhanded threats, his teasing pranks, even his aggressive behavior, you took everything with a simple grimace or manually moving him out of you sight.

How dare you? How dare you ignore him?

He knew you didn’t give him a single thought, but you littered his mind constantly, bitterly. At first it started with plans to coax some kind of reaction from you, and then it took up half his brain in a few days, and suddenly you were seeping deeper into his consciousness. Everything he thought he would somehow relate back to you.

Why? He hated you with his entire being. You were hardly entertaining, all you did was express your disgust with him each encounter—

Floyd was knocked back to his senses when Professor Crewel called his name. Right, Alchemy class. He huffed to himself.

“Your project partner today, the Prefect.” he’d said.

Floyd scowled. Of course he’d be paired up with that slab of concrete. Couldn’t he have someone fun, like Sea Otter, like Crabby, or even just Jade? He slinked away in search of you, ignoring the “good boy” that Crewel hummed. Floyd hated it when Crewel called him that… but, maybe if you— Quit it.

You weren’t hard to find at all, being the single woman in the room. He stood by your side, stealing rude glances when you kept silent. You didn’t even have a reaction to his presence, instead keeping your focus on the full vials displayed on the desk.

No matter how badly he didn’t want to have the first word, he knew you wouldn’t take it if he didn’t. And you prefer the quiet, so he may as well try and distract you with noise if he could.

“Hey, Shrimpy.” he drawled, looming over your shoulder. “Y’know what you're doin’, yeah? Don’t need my help?”

You still voiced nothing. You were reading through the instructions given, carefully pouring whatever was needed.

“…Cool. I don’t needa do anythin’.”

“Do your part.” you finally muttered, though you didn’t spare him a glance. “You won’t pass if you don’t.”

Floyd rolled his eyes with a groan. “Why? Professor Beakfish can’t tell the difference if you do it all.”

“Oh, yeah? Ruggie’s watching.” That made him scan around for said boy… and there he was, doing his own project with Kalim, taking small peeks every few moments. Once he noticed Floyd’s gaze, he flashed him a cheeky grin. He knew Ruggie was watching for two reasons: he knew how little Floyd and Yuu get along and wanted to see how it played out, and he could use Floyd’s lack of work as a means of future blackmail for lunch food. He’d no doubt hang this over his head, but honestly? He didn’t care much.

“Still don’t feel like it.” he said with a click of his tongue.

He stood idly by, eyes going between you and Ruggie, until an idea struck him. He was so bored, it’d give him something to do.

“If I’m not gettin’ full points, neither’re you.” He clumsily grabbed whatever vials were present, dumping all of them in the beaker with a toothy grin.

“Wait—“ You stuck an arm out in front of Floyd instinctively, the beaker immediately blowing up and covering the two of you in black soot. You slowly opened your eyes and lowered your arm, a clean line across his chest where your arm had ‘protected’ him.

Though it wasn’t explicit, you were furious. Every single time you had even got near Floyd, he’d find a way to mess something up. She exhaled slowly as Crewel approached.

“Bad dogs, what’s happened?” His glare was so stern, you would have lowered your head if you weren’t so angered.

“She messed up.” Floyd said, smile still wide as ever.

You grit your teeth. You wanted to scream, shout, throw things, throw him, but you stood with a blank poker-face. It’s all you could do.

Crewel opened his mouth, probably to scold you, or Floyd, someone, until Ruggie called from the other side of the room.

“He did iiiiiit…” he said before breaking into cackles. “Y’know he did!”

Floyd’s grin fell into a look of deadpan irritation, but was met with Ruggie’s uppity smug face.

“Yes…” Crewel cleared his throat. “I figured as such. Floyd Leech, to your dorm room immediately. I will choose how I shall deal with you later. As for the Prefect… you are dismissed. You may retake this project by yourself tomorrow.”

And like that, Crewel skirted off back to the front of the classroom.

Floyd’s rage was bubbling heavily in his chest. Dismissed? Why do you get dismissed?

Floyd grumbled under his breath and took off his lab coat to shove into your arms, nails digging into his palms as he sped out of the room. Ruggie laughed at him the entire way, of course, only to be reminded by Kalim to keep hushed.

A few seconds later, you emerged from the door, pushing yourself away from the frame as you rubbed at your face to get the soot off. Thank goodness for those lab coats, you thought. Your quick strides let you catch up with Floyd. You grabbed his wrist and roughly turned him to face you.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” you snarled.

“Iunno, I think I’m fine.” he said with a bored shrug, tugging your hand off.

“No, why d’you do that? You always mess my shit up.”

“Seemed fun.”

That seemed to be the last tick on your timebomb of patience; you grabbed him by the arms and shoved him against the wall, eyes ablaze in fury.

“I’m fucking tired of you! I can’t even look at you without you doing something you shouldn’t.” You ranted on and on about how much you hated him, how angry he constantly made you, how badly you just wanted to make him into your dinner…

It went through one ear and out the other with Floyd, however, as he grasped one of your hands and slowly slid it up to his neck, eye contact never breaking.

“—And now, you’re messing with schoolwork! D’you know how hard it is to—“

“You should choke me.”

“…What?”

“You should choke me.”

You blinked in confusion. Floyd continued to blankly stare at you with half-lidded eyes, holding your hand up to his throat. A few moments of awkward silence pass.

“Ya hate me? Choke me, then.”

You retreated your hands, wiping them on your shirt like they’d been touched by muck. You stood her ground in front of him and shook your head, bewildered. “No. No, I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?” His responses were quick and blunt, like he’d already thought of and rehearsed this many times before.

“Why would I?” You gave an incredulous look, eyes squinted and nose scrunched. He leaned forward slightly, studying your face.

“Good way to take your frustration out.” He smiled, continuing to lean until his chin rested on your shoulder.

“The fuck’re you talking about?” You scowled at him, just like you always did. Floyd didn’t answer further, instead sliding his hands up your waist and to your back.

He hated you, he hated how you ignored him, he hated how difficult it was to get a rise from you, he hated how often he thought about the things he wanted you to do to him. He hated it all, but he craved more of it.

He trailed further up until he was fiddling with your bra clip. You pushed him away before he could take it off, much to his disappointment.

“We’re not doing this out here.” you murmured. Right, they’re still in the hallway, thankfully empty due to the other students in their respective classes. “Your room.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was right; you needed an outlet. You were so, so frustrated with all the constant prefect work, keeping Grim, Ace, and Deuce in check, you needed something to take it out on. Of course, you didn’t think Ramshackle would be the best choice for sex, especially with the risk of the ghosts getting nosy and spying on them… or Grim walking in and traumatizing himself.

He gave a smug grin, tugging you along to his room—tried to tug, kind of. Your pace stayed slow and leisurely while he pulled forward. It was almost comical how someone so much shorter than him was somehow strong enough to keep themself in place.

Once arrived, Floyd wasted no time in slamming the door and locking it before returning to his place; hands fiddling with your bra clip, this time clumsy and rushed. He was growing visibly frustrated as time went on without your bra unhooking, earning a scoff from you. You reached behind yourself, shooing his hands away and unhooked it easily. You slid the bra straps down your arms, allowing the piece to fall onto the ground from under your shirt.

With giddy cackles, he immediately pushed his face into your chest, fingers sinking into your cloth-protected breasts. He hated how much he’s always liked them.

“No.” You grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him away to be met with a shocked face, quickly contorting into one of annoyance. You wanted to say you only allowed him to take off your bra because it was more comfortable for you. You didn’t really mind him touching you… he didn’t deserve that, though. “Get on the bed.”

“No.” he mocked, reaching out to squeeze your tits.

“Yes.” you hissed. You grabbed his collar to shove him in the direction of the bed. He stumbled and fell onto his back, cushioned by the mattress. Oh, he hated how much that reminded him of your first actions that caused him all of these confusing feelings.

You crawled on next to him, pulling him farther so his full body lay on the bed.

“Aye, I’m not a ragdoll!” he complained.

“Eh, you could be.”

You hooked a finger at his collar, already loosened by a few buttons.

“You like teasing your chest out to everyone, huh?” You glanced up at his face, your expression unreadable.

“Maaaybe.”

“Let’s show a lil’ more of it, then.” you mused, dragging your finger down until the last button popped undone. Your eyes scanned his body; his upper body was a tad wide, his chest and abs toned enough to be expected from a basketball player and someone who… well, someone who swam constantly. You ran a hand down his torso. “Lookit you, pretty boy.”

“I know.” Floyd snickered, shivering at your touch. You leaned down to pepper kisses along his body, the feeling tickling him enough to make him squirm. He let out a low whine, growing impatient. “I thought you were gonna take your anger out.” His voice was taunting, probably in an attempt to irk you.

“Don’t like foreplay?” You sat up and looked down upon him. Somehow, it made him feel small.

“I don’t care about that, just get on with it already.” The complaints must have worked, because you yanked down his pants in one motion, his cock springing out.

You raised a hand to Floyd’s mouth.

“Lick it.” You ordered. He knew you just wanted to use his saliva as lube to jerk him off, but a wide grin spread on his face; one everyone knew. He leaned in and bit your hand, his sharp teeth digging into your skin.

With a hiss, you grabbed him by the hair to pry him off. He looked up at you haughtily, hoping this would finally rattle you enough to be as rough with him as he always wanted you to be.

With his hair still balled in your hand, you leered at him with intensity that usually rendered everyone around you timid. Floyd, however, just seemed complacent with himself.

You grabbed one of the stray ties that littered his bed.

“Sit up.”

“No—“ The second you heard him begin to utter a refusal, you hoisted him by the collar to sit up. “Quit doin’ that!”

“Shut up.” You guided his hands behind his back, tying them together with the unused tie. Floyd pretended to pout, but he couldn’t ignore his excitement.

His anticipation turned into confusion when you slid off the bed and began rummaging around the room.

“I know you got something around here…” you mumbled, digging through his dresser drawers. Finally when you reached the bottom one, you found and retrieved a magic wand vibrator. “Figured.”

“Holy shit!” Floyd gasped, visibly perking up. “I forgot I bought that!”

You stopped in your tracks and let out a guffaw, caught off guard. This was the first time he’d ever seen and heard you laugh, a little sad that it was in a situation like this, but he thought it sounded… cute. It was boisterous, high pitched compared to your regular voice. He let out a few giggles.

The laughter died down, and you crawled back on the bed, turning the vibe on. You started it on the lowest setting before pressing it against the tip of his cock. Floyd sucked in a breath, but still looked at her with a bored expression.

“That’s it? What, y—“ You suddenly zipped to the highest level, causing Floyd to gasp. “Ow! Fucking—“ He cut himself off with a moan.

“D’you prefer the lower one?” you asked with a small grin.

He shook his head, “Nope.” It was a little much as an immediate start, but he wouldn’t want you to know that. His jaw clenched to try and stifle his moans and mewls, watching you drag the toy along his length.

It didn’t take long for the vibrations to force out a few beads of precum, which you smeared around the head without a second thought.

His hips slowly started bucking as he was getting closer to cumming, eyes scrunching shut and turning his head to the side to focus on his breathing.

You allowed him to grind against the toy for a bit, until eventually turning it off when his breathing got noticeably ragged. His eyes cracked open with a carping groan.

“What the fuck?” Floyd whined with a glare.

“Shut up.” You waited a few beats before turning the vibrator back on the max level, making Floyd jolt with a yelp.

This time, he was more sensitive than before, and it made keeping quiet even harder. He was hoping the vibe was loud enough to mask his strained gasps and hisses.

Again he grew close, and again you pulled away his stimulation.

“Quit doing that!” He squirmed in frustration, attempting to wriggle out of the restraints.

You silently watched his chest heave with his labored breaths, a third time pressing the toy against his dick, eliciting a whine from him. When Floyd made eye contact, there was a noticeable flash of desperate pleading, his shoulders twitching as he tried miserably to grind against the vibrator. When a choked moan broke from him, you retreated the toy.

“S-stop teasing me!” he cried out, his thighs trembling underneath you. “Just let me cum!”

“You made me put up with all your stupid bullshit for weeks , and you think I’m gonna let you go easy? I’m—“ Your barred words were interrupted by Floyd’s cell phone ringing on the nightstand. You glanced at him before grabbing the phone, displaying Jade’s name.

Without hesitation, you answered it. You put it on speaker and set the phone on Floyd’s thigh. He only looked at your incredulously, mouthing something you didn’t bother to decipher.

“Are you alri—“

“Whaddyou want?”

“Hm? Why do you have Floyd’s phone?”

“I don’t. He’s here.” You idly twirled a finger around the head of his cock, Floyd’s huff audible through the phone.

“Why was he not able to answer it?”

“Busy.” You wrapped your hand around his length, squeezing lightly as you began to stroke it. He bit down on the collar of his shirt, trying to muffle his whimpers.

“I… don’t understand.”

“Just playing a game.” To emphasize yourself, you grabbed the base and smacked his cock against your other hand with a loud, wet slap! and a sharp cry from Floyd.

Silence from the phone.

“I see. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” you said dismissively. “You can come over if you wanna.” You looked up at Floyd, raising a brow. After a moment, he begrudgingly nodded, and you nodded back.

“Oh… Thank you.”

“Y’know where we are.” You didn’t bother to say your goodbyes before hanging up the phone, sliding it on the floor.

“What’re you gonna do when he gets here?” There was a hint of optimism in his voice. He didn’t know if Jade would be out in the same position he’s in, if they’d be treated differently, if… if Jade would be permitted to touch you.

“Dunno.” you clicked, resting your head on his thigh while you idly slid your thumb across the slit of his cock. Each swipe earned some kind of reaction; a squirm, a huff, a whine, whatever it was, you could watch and listen forever.

Floyd’s brows were furrowed in frustration; he really didn’t want to start begging, but he was damn near close to it. Every time you touched him, he leaked with precum and it made everything so much slicker.

“…Can’t you just let me cum?”

“No.”

“You can make me cum again, just—just this once?”

“No.” And just like that, you now knew he can orgasm multiple times. Neat! You definitely won’t use that against him.

He growled, his hips trying to push into your hand until a swift knock was heard at the door. You tsked, slipping off the bed to unlock and open the door. Jade stood on the other side with his hands clasped together, eyes widened.

“May I—“

“Yep.” You pulled him in, relocking the door behind them.

“What would you—“ Without another word, you set a hand on his waist, the other gripping his jaw to plant a soft kiss to his lips. Your slow and careful touches contrasted your cold and irritated touches you gave to Floyd, it made him twitch in jealousy.

Jade’s shoulders relaxed, arms snaking around you as his eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t have the same angry lustful feelings Floyd did; he’d steal a few stares as you passed by, but that was really all. He kept out of your way most of the time, you weren’t worth the hassle.

He knew you were probably just using him to punish Floyd further, but he didn’t care. His hands traced along your sides, stopping underneath your chest.

“…May I?” he hummed, his hands inching closer.

You grabbed his hand and placed it over your tit. “It’s okay to touch me.”

Jade stiffly nodded, face flushing further. He was a bit dumbfounded. His hand squished and squeezed you experimentally.

Meanwhile, Floyd was glaring daggers at the two; you knew exactly what you was doing, you knew exactly how it made him feel.

Jade leaned in for another kiss, his body pressing against yours.

“…Prefect?” He earned a light hum and a kiss on the cheek in response. “I’ve thought about… about you. Many times.”

“Mhm? How?” You glanced over at Floyd, who was still visibly seething.

“I’ve thought about your body. About you touching me.”

“Touching you where?”

“…Everywhere .” he droned, bringing your hand up to rub his face against it before dragging it down his chest.

Floyd let out an angered growl, wriggling in his place.

“Shut up! Shut up!” He frantically tried to wipe away his frustrated tears on his shoulder. “Shrimpy, just shut up and fuck me already! Stop it!”

“No.” You guided Jade to sit on the bed before stepping back, looking around for… something again. “You got any tape in here?”

“Hm?” Jade cocked his head. “We may.”

She scoured around for a roll of tape. Scrap paper, glue sticks, a… paper puppet? Okay, whatever… Duct tape. Why he had duct tape, who knew. Maybe he just had it because he thought it’d have a use eventually; and it did.

You spun the roll on your finger as you walked back.

“Wow, extra bondage.” Floyd huffed.

“Kinda.” You pulled Floyd onto the floor. He sat on his knees in front of you, watching as you pulled the tape from the roll and used teeth to break it off. You grabbed the vibrator from the bed, placing the toy on his thigh and wrapping the tape around it to keep it in place with the head of the vibrator pushed against his cock.

“What, you're gonna make me watch or something?” he snorted.

“Yep.” You tore off another piece of tape, putting it over his mouth. “You’re cuter when you can’t talk.”

He let out a muffled whine when you turned on the toy, leaning forward as your hand pulled away to try to extend your touch.

You ignored his desperation, sitting on the bed next to Jade.

You lightly pushed him onto his back. “You’re real patient.” you murmured, kissing along his jawline.

“Thank you, Miss. It’s difficult.” he whispered, arms wrapping around you. He quietly moaned as you nipped at his collarbone. “May I take off my shirt?”

You sat back on her heels and carelessly gestured with a hand. Jade tugged away his tie, tossing it to the side while he pulled off his suit jacket. He unbuttoned the underneath shirt as quickly as he could—maybe he wasn’t as patient as you thought he was.

“Cute.” Your fingers feathered up his body and swiped over a nipple, earning a gasp.

“C-can you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“T-touch m—“ He hissed when you swirled your fingers around his nipples, his body twitching and trembling.

He arched his back as time passed, feeling himself leak through his pants from the constant teasing.

“Please, Miss.” He groaned, balling his fists in your shirt while he pulled away. “May I taste you? Please?” He slid his knees to the ground, attempting to pull you forward so he could sit between your legs.

“Such good manners.” you cooed, tucking the black streak in his hair behind his ear. “You may.”

Between quiet ‘thank you’s, he tugged on your waistband. You let out an amused him when his attempts were left fruitless, you lifted your hips slightly to aid him. Finally left in only your shirt, he stared in awe.

“I think you’re beautiful, Miss.”

“Shush.” You pulled his face closer. “No biting.”

He only nodded before shoving his face into your cunt, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. You gasped, setting a thigh on his shoulder while he traced around with the underside of his tongue.

Jade could feel his throbbing cock weep for release, the ache almost painful. His hand hovered over his belt, but quickly brought it back up to squeeze your thigh.

“Miss,” he mumbled, his voice vibrating against you, “May I touch myself?”

You nodded stiffly, relishing in the feeling of his mouth on you. He quickly fumbled with his belt, whipping it off. He popped his cock out, already slick with precum, and began stroking it. His hand twisted up and down his shaft as he tried to bury his face closer into you. With his other hand, he lightly pushed your thigh into his cheek, looking up with pleading doe-eyes.

You squeezed his head in your thighs; not hard enough to be overwhelming but enough to reward him. The feeling of him fucking his own hand mixed with your thighs hugging the sides of his head made him shiver, the vibrations of his moans making your breath hitch.

“Good boy.” you moaned, grinding against his face. Your words seemed to have stricken Floyd; he let out a loud cry of protest, muffled by the tape. It should be him, it should be him, it should be him, it should be him.

His cries and screams of frustration were masked by the sounds of the vibrator. It didn’t matter, he would have been ignored regardless.

Jade whined as his hand’s pumping grew messy and erratic. He pulled away with a large gasp for air.

“May I cum? May I please cum, Miss?” He panted desperately, his own hand merciless on himself while he imagined it was yours instead.

“Cum for me.”

“Th-thank you—“ He shoved his face into your thigh to hush his moans, his cum hitting his chest and torso. He heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his pumping slowing to a stop. He looked down at the mess he’d made of himself, fatigued already.

“Good job.” You brushed her fingers through his hair affectionately. You were surprised at how strangely obedient Jade was; you would have figured he’d try some kind of sly tricks or backhanded rebelling, but he was… good.

He pushed his head into your hand, rubbing the sweat off from his forehead. Behind you two, Floyd sat writhing and whimpering pathetically, his torso and the hems of his shirt covered in his cum. You couldn’t tell how many times he’d came just from the amount caked on him. You almost pitied him because of the relentlessly never-ending stimulation from the vibrator forced on his dick. Almost.

With a kiss on Jade’s forehead and a rub on the nape of his neck, you stood. Still seated on the floor, Jade rested his head against the bed to watch you with tired eyes as you walked away.

You stopped in front of Floyd with a stone-faced leer. You took the edge of the tape around his mouth in your fingers and ripped it off. You expected him to yell, shout, growl in rage and anguish, cuss her out, but never in a million years did you expect—

“Mommy—I… I’m s-sorry, please fuck me, please.”

He twisted and fidgeted under your touch, waiting to hear your no’s, leaning forward to try and wipe his tears on your shirt.

“…Fine.” You tore away the vibrator from his thigh, giving him the short-lived break he desperately needed. His eyes widened in surprise when you shoved him onto his back (or arms for that matter). You crawled over him, reached beneath you to wrap your fingers around his dick and align him with your pussy.

“Stoplight safe words work for you, right?”

“I don’t care, I don’t care! Just fucking do it already!” He planted a foot on the ground to try and slip himself in your cunt, his restiveness left unrewarded when you lifted your hips away from him.

“I don’t respond to that.”

He complained with a groan, lolling his head back. “Yeah, green, green, please… ” It was intriguing how quickly Floyd switched up; constantly teetering from begging to being the absolute bane of your existence.

You finally took pity upon him, plunging yourself down onto him. You took his entire cock at once, forcing a cracked whine from him. You denied him time to adjust immediately began slamming your hips down. The messy slaps of flesh on flesh combined with Floyd’s incoherent voice cracks and moaning, somebody was bound to hear. Honestly? Floyd kind of hoped for it, someone behind the door hearing him being turned into a fucktoy, a stupid slut for someone he loathed.

His arms pulled, trying to break away from the restraints around his wrists. He wanted to touch you so badly; touch your tits, your waist, your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything he could manage to get his hands on. He felt like he was being taunted, despite being ridden into fucking oblivion.

“Please, please—“ He didn’t fucking know what he was even begging for at this point. He wanted it faster, he wanted it slower, wanted it rougher, gentler, he didn’t know—he just wanted to cum again. Your soft walls around him felt so different from the vibrator, it felt so much better. His mismatched half-lidded eyes were glossy and dazed as he stared at your nails.

“C’mon. C’mon, I fuckin’ love when you hurt me.” he growled.

At least you had an excuse to use him as a punching bag. You raked your nails along his skin, coaxing hisses and choked moans from him.

“You can do fuckin’ better than that.” Floyd managed a chuckle, though it was forced and interrupted by a gasp when you squeezed around his dick. “Fuck, I know you wanna hurt me, ya wanna watch me cry and squirm, yeah?” He was just mocking her, a wide grin on his face. “Do it, then. Make me cry, Mommy. I know ya like when I call ya that.”

You were silent, your face burning red. He couldn’t tell if it was from fury or if his words turned you on more. “…Shut the fuck up.”

“Ya like when I’m under you? Hm?” His cock twitched in you. By and by, he’d managed to get a reaction out of you, and he loved it.

You gripped his throat, one of the only ways you might shut him up. “You talk way too fucking much.”

“Fuck me.” he crowed. “Harder, do it fuckin’ harder.”

You kept your steady pace, your gaze hardening. “What’d I say about talking to me like that?”

“Please, harder? Please?” His chest heaved, feeling the familiar pressure buildup within him.

“Good boy.”

“Oh, fuck.” The words made him feel tingly, overwhelmed tears welling in his eyes as you grew rough. Honestly, he’d already forgotten how he even got to this point; his thoughts were hazy. “I-I’m gonna cum—“

“No.”

The dam broke, the denial forcing a broken sob. “No, please, please , I’m sorry, I’m fuckin’ sorry—“ He babbled on with his begging, trying to bury himself deeper inside you.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t—I won’t—“ What did he do again? He can’t remember. “Fuck, please! Fuckin’ let me cum! Please, can I cum? J-just—“

“Fine.”

“Fuckin’ fina—Thank you!” Through weeps and moans, his cum coated the inside of your cunt as his back arched in pleasure.

You and Floyd stayed in place after you slowed to a stop, unmoving as you caught your breath.

“…Would you like me to get some towels?” Jade piped up after a few moments of silence. He was still seated on the ground, flushed from watching.

You glanced back at him. “Yeah… yeah, thanks.” You panted, pulling off of Floyd so you could help untie his wrists. “Sorry I didn’t do much with you. I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Thank you, Prefect.” Jade stood to his feet, legs a bit wobbly. He gave her a polite smile, slipping out of the room to leave the two alone while he grabbed what was needed.

It was silent. Floyd looked exhausted as he rubbed his face, ridding it of tear stains.

“…I still hate you.” you eventually said.

“Yeah, I still hate you, too.”

… He thinks.

#floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #sub floyd #sub jade #sub twst #dom reader #twst x reader #n/sfw #twisted wonderland #twst #floyd leech #jade leech #🪚 fics

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blissfulflw · 2 months ago

Text

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙

Pairing- Kim Minjeong (Winter) x fem reader

Genre- Fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Word count- 10813

A/N: tumblr is being a bitch rn so I have to split the fic into two parts since apparently it’s too ‘long’ so here.

Part 2

It started with a text.

You had just finished up a long day at the library, your brain fried from the hours spent buried in textbooks, when your phone buzzed on the desk. Frowning at the unfamiliar number, you unlocked it.

*Hey loser, I bet you’re still doing your stupid homework. I’m about to go to a party, but don’t worry, I’ll think of you while I’m having fun. ;) *– Minjeong, your new best friend

You blinked at the message. First of all, who even was Minjeong? You didn’t know anyone by that name. Second, loser? You glanced over at your untouched dinner—instant noodles—and sighed. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

You stared at the phone, debating what to do. Was this some kind of prank? No way this was real. Still, your fingers typed out a careful response.

Uh, sorry, I think you have the wrong number. I’m not sure who you meant to text, but I’m not your best friend.

The response came quickly, as if she’d been waiting for you to reply.

Oops. Sorry, loser. I’ll try again next time. Have fun with your noodles. ;)

Your eyebrow twitched at the audacity. You weren’t sure if you should be offended or impressed by how casually rude this person was.

The next day at class, your phone buzzed again, and you groaned inwardly before checking it.

How’s your loser day going, huh? Are you hiding under the desk to avoid attention again?

You stared at the message, unsure of how to react. Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly typed back.

This isn’t funny. Stop texting me.

Aww, don’t be such a buzzkill. I’m bored, so I’m just sending you some entertainment. Maybe you should loosen up a little. Have you ever tried going to a party?

You frowned. You were way too shy for parties. Definitely not your scene. But this person didn’t seem to care about your feelings.

I don’t go to parties, and I’m not interested in whatever this is. Please stop texting me.

There was a pause before the next message came through.

Oh, I see. Another shy nerd. Alright, well, don’t have too much fun being all lonely and miserable. I’ll catch you later, loser.

You resisted the urge to throw your phone out the window. Why was this person so insufferable? You could already picture some snobby rich kid typing that message with an exaggerated smirk.

A few days later, you were in the library again, trying to focus on your notes when your phone buzzed again. This time, you didn’t even hesitate before checking.

I hope you’re enjoying being a nobody while I’m out living my best life. Got a new Louis bag. It’s so much better than your stupid backpack.

You blinked at the message and felt a small surge of annoyance.

Why do you keep texting me?

Because it’s fun. You’re fun to mess with. Plus, I think you need me in your life.

You let out a frustrated breath and leaned back in your chair. Why did you care so much about a person who didn’t even know you? Still, something about this exchange—it was infuriatingly addictive. As much as you hated the arrogance behind every message, a tiny part of you almost looked forward to it. Maybe because it was the closest thing to excitement you’d had in a while.

Well, I don’t need you.

Uh-huh, sure. That’s why you keep replying, loser.

Your fingers twitched, and you stared at the screen for a moment. You weren’t sure if it was frustration or something else—something you definitely didn’t want to admit—but you couldn’t help yourself.

Fine. Whatever. But I’m not playing your games anymore.

Oh, you’re playing. You just don’t know it yet. :)

_____

The next week, you found yourself standing outside the classroom when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, nerd.”

You froze. No way. You turned around, heart suddenly hammering in your chest. Standing there, her arms crossed and a smug grin on her face, was none other than Kim Minjeong. The Kim Minjeong. The girl everyone talked about on campus. The one with the perfect hair, flawless skin, and an attitude that could probably melt steel. And yet, she was looking at you like you were her next personal project.

“You’re the one from my texts,” she said, clearly amused. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up in person. I was starting to think you were just a boring little avatar on my phone.”

You cleared your throat, completely caught off guard. “Uh… I—”

“Shut up. I’m not here for your excuses. I just wanted to see what kind of loser texts like that. What’s your deal? You too shy to have a real conversation with people?” She tilted her head, her smirk growing.

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Was this really happening? You weren’t sure whether to feel angry or completely embarrassed.

“Well, no matter,” she continued, inspecting her nails. “You’ll be my little project now. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. For now.”

You stared at her, unable to speak. All you knew was that this was the start of something much, much bigger than you ever anticipated. And for some reason, you had the feeling it wasn’t going to be easy to get out of it.

You stood there, dumbfounded, as Minjeong—Kim Minjeong, the girl everyone on campus gossiped about—stared at you, completely unfazed by your awkward silence.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, her tone almost mocking. “That’s fine. I’ll speak for both of us.”

You swallowed, feeling a little dizzy. She was even more intimidating in person. Her pristine appearance, her confident posture—it all screamed “don’t mess with me,” and yet here you were, standing in front of her, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Minjeong said, stepping a little closer. “But it’s really funny how you just take all my texts without saying anything back. You don’t even stand up for yourself. You just… let me walk all over you.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck, realizing she was right. You had been letting her mess with you, every text cutting through your defenses like a hot knife. And instead of standing up for yourself, you just let it happen, every time.

“Don’t worry,” Minjeong continued, her lips curling into a playful smile. “You’ll get used to it. Or not. I really don’t care either way.” She tilted her head, studying you with almost too much interest. “But hey, you’re not completely useless. You’re smart, right? The whole campus knows you’re the best in class. Maybe we can make a deal.”

You blinked, utterly confused. “A deal?”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I need help in a few subjects. And since you’re such a little genius,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically, “I guess I’ll let you tutor me. But only if you agree to one thing.”

Your mouth went dry. “What thing?”

Her smirk widened, the challenge in her eyes making you want to back away, but you were frozen in place. “You’ll stop being such a boring, quiet little nerd. I want to see a little more of a… backbone from you.”

You swallowed, unsure of what she meant. Was she actually asking you to change? To become someone else? Or was this another game she was playing? Either way, something about the way she was looking at you made it hard to say no.

“And if I don’t?” you asked, your voice shaky but defiant.

She stepped even closer, closing the space between you, her presence looming in a way that made your heart beat faster. “Then I guess you’ll just stay in your little corner, the same nobody you’ve always been.” Her voice was low, almost teasing. “But hey, that’s your choice.”

You stared at her for a moment, torn between the frustration of her arrogance and the tiny spark of curiosity she’d ignited in you. You had always been invisible to people like her—perfect, untouchable Minjeong. But here she was, asking you for something. Something that felt… a little too much like a dare.

“Fine,” you finally muttered, unsure of what you were agreeing to but too stubborn to back down. “I’ll tutor you. But don’t expect me to be your personal project or anything.”

Minjeong’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, but I think you already are my project, sweetheart.” She let the words hang in the air, her tone thick with a teasing edge. “You just don’t know it yet.”

_____

You tried to concentrate on your notes in the library. You really did. But the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about Minjeong. Every time she texted you, every time she cornered you between classes, she left you reeling. You couldn’t figure out if she was just messing with you or if she really expected you to change for her—whatever that meant.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hey loser, I finished that paper. I hope you’re not crying because I got it done before you.

You groaned and typed back.

You’re not funny.

I’m hilarious, and you love it.

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. But before you could type anything else, another message came through.

Meet me after class. I want to make sure you’re doing your job properly. I’ll be in the usual spot.

Your heart skipped a beat. The usual spot? What was that supposed to mean? You could already feel the nerves crawling up your spine. But there was no turning back now. You were in this—whether you liked it or not.

_____

You walked slowly across campus, your hands shaking in your pockets as you tried to ignore the growing anxiety in your chest. You had no idea what Minjeong wanted from you. Was she really expecting you to start acting differently? To… become someone like her?

You rounded the corner and saw her leaning against a tree, her sunglasses perched on her nose, looking effortlessly cool and completely out of place. Minjeong. The epitome of confidence, sitting there with her legs crossed and a casual smirk on her face as if she owned the whole campus.

She looked up when she saw you approaching and immediately stood up, her gaze shifting from indifferent to something more dangerous. “Well, well. Look who decided to show up.”

“I’m here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, still not sure what to say to her.

Minjeong crossed her arms, eyeing you up and down. “So… how’s this tutoring thing gonna work?” she asked, a cocky edge to her voice. “You gonna teach me something useful? Or are you just gonna sit there and tell me about boring equations?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m here to help you with the subjects you need, not your attitude.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that so?” She took a step closer, almost invading your personal space. “And what if I don’t want to listen to your ‘help’? What if I want to see if I can break you first?”

Your heart raced as she loomed over you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You didn’t know whether to be terrified or intrigued by the way she was looking at you. But in that moment, you realized something.

You were in deeper than you thought.

_____

You sat at the table in the corner of the campus library, the one you usually claimed as your quiet spot. Your heart was racing, palms sweaty, despite the fact that you were technically prepared for the tutoring session. You had organized your notes, had everything ready, and you were determined to act professional.

Except that Minjeong was coming.

You had no idea how it was going to go. Would she actually listen? Would she make fun of you the entire time? The idea of having her so close, her eyes boring into you while you tried to explain math or history or whatever… It was enough to make you squirm in your seat.

The sound of footsteps broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked up. There she was. Minjeong. She sauntered toward your table with a confident smirk plastered on her face, her designer bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, the soft click of her heels echoing in the otherwise quiet library.

“Hey, nerd,” she greeted, sitting down a little too close for comfort.

You flinched slightly, your body tense. The closer she got, the harder it was to keep your thoughts in order. You had to remind yourself that she was here to study. You weren’t just some random person she was bothering—no, she needed your help.

Right?

“Ready to teach me, or do I need to entertain myself first?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, casually brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were playful, as though she knew exactly how she was affecting you.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “We’re starting with history,” you muttered, opening your notes to the chapter you had planned on covering first. “I… I’ll just explain it, okay?”

“Sounds boring,” Minjeong said nonchalantly, but she leaned in anyway, her gaze never leaving you. “Go on. Teach me then. But, I gotta warn you, I’m not the best student.”

Her words shouldn’t have affected you the way they did, but they did. The teasing lilt in her voice, the way she sat just a little too close—it was making it hard to focus.

You coughed, trying to push the thoughts aside. “So, uh, this chapter is about—”

Before you could finish, Minjeong casually kicked her legs out, letting one of her feet brush against yours. You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Her eyes flicked down to where her foot had made contact with yours, then back up to meet your wide-eyed expression.

“Oops,” she said sweetly, almost too sweetly, “Did I do that?”

You nodded quickly, trying not to look like a mess. Why was she doing this to you?

“Focus, focus,” you muttered under your breath, forcing yourself to look at your notes. You opened your mouth to start again, but Minjeong wasn’t making it easy.

She leaned in closer, her face now dangerously near to yours, her lips just a breath away. “You’re really cute when you get all shy, you know that?” Minjeong’s voice was low, and the tone sent a strange shiver down your spine. “Makes me want to see just how far I can push you…”

Your cheeks went red instantly. You turned away, trying to act like you were still in control. You’re supposed to be tutoring her, you reminded yourself. You’re not supposed to be a nervous wreck.

“Stop distracting me,” you whispered, hoping she couldn’t hear the way your voice wavered.

Minjeong’s chuckle sent another wave of heat rushing to your face. “Distracting? I’m just trying to help you relax. You know, get rid of that stiff little nerdy vibe you’ve got going on.”

You wanted to protest, but the words didn’t come. Every inch of you was telling you to focus, but Minjeong wasn’t letting that happen.

She reached across the table, just a little too casually, and tapped the edge of your hand with her fingers. “You’re so serious all the time. Lighten up, will you?”

You jerked your hand back, feeling your pulse quicken at her touch. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this. You were the one in control here, the tutor, the smart one. Not her.

“I… I’m just trying to teach you,” you stammered, feeling the heat rush to your neck. “Can we please just focus on—”

But Minjeong wasn’t done yet.

Her chair scraped the floor as she moved just a little closer, until her body was practically pressed against yours. You stiffened immediately, trying to ignore the way her perfume clouded your senses. You could feel the heat radiating off her, and the distance between you was practically nonexistent.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s honestly kind of adorable. Who knew the quiet nerd could be so… touchy?”

You swallowed, unable to think straight as she invaded your personal space even further. Minjeong’s lips were so close, and the way she was looking at you—like she was studying every reaction you had—it was making your head spin.

“I’m not—” you tried, but the words got stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even form a coherent sentence with her so close. You felt like a complete loser.

“Not what?” she teased, her breath warm against your skin. “Not flustered? You’re definitely flustered.”

You wanted to say something, anything to regain some of your composure, but Minjeong was relentless. She moved closer again, her hand resting casually on the table, dangerously close to yours. “I bet you don’t even know how much I’m messing with you right now. You’re such an easy target, you know?”

You couldn’t even look at her anymore. You were certain your face was so red, you might actually combust.

“Are you gonna answer me, or are you just gonna keep looking all embarrassed?” she purred, the teasing tone in her voice making you want to curl up into a ball.

“I… I don’t…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. You just wanted to get through this tutoring session without completely losing your mind.

Minjeong chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on you. “Don’t worry, loser. I’m not that cruel. I’ll give you a break. But only because I’m feeling generous.”

You barely managed a shaky breath as she leaned back in her chair, her smile still playful, her eyes gleaming with amusement. You couldn’t believe how much she was affecting you with just a few words, a few touches. It was like she was purposefully breaking down every wall you had, and you couldn’t stop her.

You’re in over your head, you thought, unable to ignore the way your heart pounded against your chest.

You were trying. Really.

Trying to focus on the page in front of you, trying to explain the importance of some war or treaty or whatever the hell you were supposed to be teaching Minjeong. But it was impossible with her next to you, stretching in her chair like this was a spa day and not a tutoring session.

At some point, she had slid her chair even closer, until your knees were touching under the table. You had pulled back instinctively, but she only followed.

“I don’t bite, loser,” she whispered, her tone sickeningly sweet, “unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

You immediately choked on your own breath and coughed into your sleeve.

“God,” Minjeong laughed, “you’re such a mess.”

You slammed your textbook closed without meaning to. “I’m not a mess,” you muttered, even though your face was on fire and your hands were shaking slightly.

She leaned forward again, elbow on the table, chin resting on her palm, just watching you.

“Mm, sure. You’re not a mess. You’re just sweating and stuttering and can’t look me in the eye for longer than five seconds. That’s totally normal,” she said, voice laced with mock sympathy.

You clenched your fists in your lap, biting your tongue.

This was hell. She was hell.

“I don’t know why you’re even here if you’re not going to take this seriously,” you mumbled.

Minjeong blinked slowly. “What makes you think I’m not taking it seriously?”

You blinked back at her, dumbfounded. “Because you haven’t even opened your notebook.”

She smiled, almost innocent. “Yeah, but I’m watching you. That counts.”

“That’s not how studying works,” you said, exasperated, but your voice cracked halfway through the sentence, which absolutely killed any authority you were trying to have.

Minjeong reached across the table, slowly, and grabbed your pen. You thought she was going to mess with you again—but instead, she flipped your notebook toward herself and scrawled something at the top of the page.

You looked.

It said:

Loser Tutor’s Notes (feat. Me, Your Favorite Distraction)

You stared at it, dumbstruck.

“I’m going to murder you,” you said under your breath.

She just grinned wider, teeth flashing. “Now that’s more like it. There’s the spark I wanted to see. Who knew the little mouse could growl?”

You groaned and dropped your head onto the table.

“Oh my god. Please just read the chapter.”

Minjeong didn’t move.

You lifted your head slightly and gave her a side-eye. “What?”

She smiled like the devil. “You’ve got something on your face.”

You blinked. “What—?”

And then, without warning, she reached out and gently brushed her thumb across your cheek. You froze—completely, absolutely froze—because her hand was warm and soft and why was she touching you?!

“There,” she murmured, thumb lingering a beat too long. “Got it.”

You could barely breathe. Your brain was short-circuiting. You were ninety-nine percent sure your soul had just left your body.

She pulled her hand back slowly, eyes locked on yours.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” she said, tilting her head. “Are you okay, tutor?”

You nodded way too fast. “I’m—fine. Totally fine. Great. Studying. Yes.”

Minjeong bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

“God, you’re fun,” she whispered.

You looked down at the table, your notebook blurry through the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. You didn’t know if this was some long-con bullying tactic or actual flirting or just Minjeong being a chaotic menace, but whatever it was—it was working.

You were completely, helplessly flustered.

And Minjeong? Minjeong was thriving.

You were certain the library air conditioning was broken. That had to be it. No way the heat rising in your face, the pounding in your ears, the flushed feeling in your chest—it couldn’t just be because Kim Minjeong was looking at you like she was waiting for you to fall apart.

And you were dangerously close to doing exactly that.

She’d stopped “studying” five minutes ago—if she ever started. Now she was slouched low in her chair, legs stretched out under the table, one of them still brushing yours every time she shifted. She hadn’t moved it. Not once.

You, however, had shifted four times and were now practically sitting sideways in your own chair, clutching your pen like it was a lifeline.

Minjeong tilted her head again, her ponytail swinging over one shoulder. “You keep running away from me and we’re not even on problem three.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat was dry and your face felt like it was melting off.

“Are you nervous?” she asked softly, voice almost gentle. “Because I don’t bite unless you ask nicely.”

You accidentally dropped your pen.

She immediately leaned down to pick it up, and you scrambled—too late. Her fingers brushed yours as she handed it back, and you swear your heart jumped so hard you saw stars.

“Thanks,” you whispered, looking anywhere but her.

“You’re so cute when you’re panicking,” she murmured. “Seriously. I should mess with you more often.”

“You already do,” you muttered, surprising even yourself with how fast it came out.

Minjeong’s brows rose. “Oop. Did the mouse just bite back?”

You clutched your pen tighter. “I’m just trying to help you pass history. That’s it.”

“Yeah? And I’m just trying to help you grow a backbone.”

You looked at her finally, eyes narrowing.

She smiled—lazy, smug, teasing. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. She wasn’t even doing anything outrageous—just being there, being her. Minjeong had this way of making even the smallest things feel dangerous. Flipping her hair, licking her lip, leaning just a little too close when she didn’t need to. It was like she knew what she was doing to you.

And worst of all: it was kind of working.

“I think we should take a break,” you said suddenly, standing a little too fast. Your chair scraped loudly across the floor, drawing a few judgmental librarian glares. You winced and hunched your shoulders.

Minjeong blinked up at you, smirking. “Running away again?”

You didn’t answer. You were already speed-walking toward the little vending machine nook down the hall, trying to calm your nerves. You needed air. Or sugar. Or maybe holy water.

Behind you, you heard her chair scrape, and then the soft click of her shoes as she followed. Of course.

You stared blankly at the vending machine, pretending to decide between juice and soda, even though your hands were shaking too badly to press any buttons.

Minjeong came to stand beside you, casually leaning her shoulder against yours. “If I knew tutoring came with this much entertainment,” she said, “I would’ve signed up ages ago.”

“You’re evil,” you mumbled, pressing a random button. You weren’t even sure what snack you picked. It clunked down into the bin below and you reached for it blindly.

“I’m effective,” she said with a grin.

You didn’t move, just stared down at your snack. “I don’t get you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “That’s what makes this fun.”

You turned to look at her. She wasn’t teasing now. She looked… curious. Like she was watching you figure something out and enjoying every second of your confusion.

“I don’t know if you’re making fun of me or if this is just your weird way of flirting,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Minjeong tilted her head again. “Can’t it be both?”

Your stomach flipped.

She stepped a little closer—barely noticeable, but enough that you felt her body heat again, that magnetic pull she always seemed to carry with her. “You’re not like everyone else. You’re awkward, and twitchy, and you talk to yourself under your breath, and it’s hilarious. But…”

She hesitated.

“But I think it’s kind of cute.”

You froze.

She leaned in, lips near your ear.

“…Which is really inconvenient, because I was planning on just messing with you until you cried.”

You stared at the vending machine like it held the secrets of the universe.

Then you whispered, “You still might.”

Minjeong laughed.

“Okay,” she said, tugging your sleeve, “break time’s over. Come back. I might actually let you teach me something this time.”

You followed her back to the table.

But your heart was no longer racing from panic.

It was racing because now, you weren’t sure where this game was going.

But you definitely weren’t losing anymore.

_____

You had been trying to keep a low profile. Hoodie up, headphones in, eyes on the ground. But apparently, fate—or maybe just Minjeong—had other plans.

You saw her before she saw you, standing under the shade of a tree with her usual entourage: Jimin, Aeri, and Yizhou. They looked like a poster for a perfume ad—flawless, bored, and too cool for the sun. Minjeong was leaned against the trunk, arms crossed, sipping an iced drink like she owned the quad.

And then she spotted you.

Her eyes lit up, sharp and interested, like she’d just remembered a game she wanted to keep playing. She straightened immediately.

“Loser!” she called, way too loud. Students nearby turned to look. You wanted to sink into the earth.

You paused, already overheating as she sauntered over, her friends watching with curious amusement.

“C’mere,” she said, grabbing your sleeve and tugging you away from the crowd and her clique. “I need to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay,” you mumbled, letting her lead you a few steps away. You glanced nervously at her friends, who were now openly watching the scene.

Minjeong didn’t seem to care. Her grip on your sleeve tightened like she thought you might run away if she let go.

“What’s with the hoodie? You trying to ghost me?” she asked, arching a brow. “You haven’t replied to my texts.”

“I didn’t think you actually… wanted me to,” you said honestly. “I figured you were just messing with me yesterday.”

She gave you a flat look. “If I was just messing with you, I wouldn’t have remembered your hoodie smells like vanilla and anxiety.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“Never mind,” she said quickly, cheeks barely pink. “Listen. There’s a party tonight. You’re coming.”

Your stomach twisted. “Minjeong, I don’t really—”

“Party,” she repeated, voice firmer. “Tonight. You. Me.”

You shook your head. “I’m not a party person. I’ll just—”

“Hey,” came another voice suddenly—light, amused. You turned to see Jimin, striding over, hands in her jacket pockets and smile too pretty to trust.

She gave you a slow once-over. “You’re the little tutor, right?”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

“She’s my tutor,” Minjeong cut in, fast and clipped. “Mine.”

Jimin just smiled wider. “Relax. I’m not stealing your study buddy.” Her eyes flicked to you. “But if she ever gets tired of Minjeong’s attitude, I’m around.”

Minjeong stiffened beside you.

You, meanwhile, were having a mental shutdown.

Jimin winked. “You free tonight, sweetheart?”

Before you could combust on the spot, Minjeong reached over and grabbed your wrist, dragging you back toward the tree.

“She’s busy.”

“Am I?” you asked weakly, trailing behind her.

Jimin finally turned to her, raising a brow. “I didn’t ask what she was doing, Minjeong.”

“She’s going to a party,” Minjeong said through clenched teeth.

“Oh?” Jimin looked back at you, eyes glinting. “Are you?”

“I, um…” You hesitated, caught between them like you were the final rose on a reality show. “She just invited me…”

“She just invited you?” Jimin echoed, mock-surprised. “And you’re going? That easy, huh?”

Minjeong bristled beside you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Jimin said innocently, though she looked two seconds from grinning. “I just didn’t know our little tutor was such a yes-girl.”

“Back off,” Minjeong muttered, taking a step closer to you—not touching, but unmistakably claiming.

Jimin smirked, completely unbothered. “Relax, Minjeong. I’m just making conversation. Unless…” She looked at you again. “You wanna ditch her and come with me instead?”

You made a sound that might’ve been a nervous laugh, or maybe just your soul evacuating your body.

But before you could process the chaos any further, Minjeong leaned in close—her voice dropped to something lower, more serious, and surprisingly soft:

“Don’t listen to her.”

Minjeong stopped, turned, and stared at you. Her eyes were… not playful now. Not exactly angry either. Just tense. A little frustrated. A lot possessive.

Then her voice dropped to something quieter. “Come to the party. Please.”

The word please came out soft. Not bratty. Not sarcastic. Just… honest.

You looked up at her, stunned.

“I thought you didn’t care,” you said, barely audible.

Minjeong met your eyes. “I do.”

Just those two words. No teasing. No smug grin.

You swallowed hard, heart thudding. “…Okay. I’ll go.”

Her expression broke into something triumphant, and maybe just a little too pleased. “Good.”

She let go of your wrist—finally—and turned to walk back toward her friends, but not before tossing over her shoulder, “Wear something cute. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re single.”

You stood there, stunned.

And then:

Wait.

Did she just—

_____

Your bed looked like a tornado had passed through it. Clothes were everywhere. Hoodies, jeans, shirts you hadn’t worn since high school—piled up like casualties of war.

You stared at the mirror, frozen.

A skirt.

You were wearing a skirt.

A cute one, too—soft black pleats that hit just above the knee, paired with a tucked-in oversized cream sweater and the tiniest bit of lip tint you nervously applied three times. It was… girly. Way too girly for you. But you had tried jeans first. Three different pairs. And none of them felt right.

But the second you pulled on the skirt and glanced at your reflection, your brain screamed: Minjeong would stare at this.

Which. Was a problem. Because now all you could think about was her reaction. Would she tease you? Laugh? Say something like “Trying to impress me, loser?” and then flash you that smug grin that made your stomach somersault?

You groaned, flopping back onto your bed with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m going to die,” you muttered to the ceiling. “She’s going to eat me alive.”

Your phone buzzed.

[Minjeong]: u ready or r u still panicking abt ur outfit

You stared.

How the hell did she know?

Before you could respond, another message came through:

[Minjeong]: put something cute on. like that skirt u wore in that insta pic 4 months ago. i remember.

Your soul left your body.

That post had maybe three likes. You’d deleted it two hours after posting because you thought you looked awkward. She remembered it?

You swallowed hard, quickly typing back:

[You]: …i am literally wearing that skirt rn

Her reply came instantly:

[Minjeong]: good girl

You dropped your phone face down and covered your face with both hands.

“I’m not surviving this night.”

_____

The music was loud. The lights were low and warm and golden. People spilled out onto the porch and into the kitchen, laughing, dancing, shouting over whatever playlist was blasting from someone’s half-broken speaker.

You stuck to the wall like a nervous cat, clutching a solo cup filled with something fruity you hadn’t even tasted yet. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped through the door.

Then—

“Holy shit.”

You turned. It was Minjeong.

Her eyes scanned you up and down. Slowly. She blinked like she’d just walked into something unexpected.

“You actually wore it,” she said, voice low, a little breathy.

You shrugged, cheeks on fire. “You said it looked good.”

Minjeong bit her lip, very visibly, and took a step closer. “I didn’t say good. I said cute. You look… dangerously cute.”

You blinked at her. “Dangerously?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, reaching out to tug at the hem of your sweater, her fingers brushing your bare thigh for a second that felt like an eternity. “Someone might flirt with you again.”

You swallowed. “Is that a problem?”

She stepped in fully now, her body practically brushing yours, voice dropping just enough that it buzzed against your skin.

“It is if it’s not me.”

You laughed nervously, but her eyes didn’t move from yours. She was serious again—Minjeong-serious, which meant she was probably five seconds from either kissing you or ruining your life with one sentence.

“You really look good,” she said softly. “I mean it.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

She looked down at your mouth, then back up.

And just like that, the space between you started to disappear.

The room spun a little, not from the drink—honestly, you were too scared to actually drink much—but from the way Minjeong was looking at you. Focused. Intense. Like she was choosing what to do with you very, very carefully.

You weren’t even sure what you were supposed to do. Say something cool? Flirt back? You were lucky you hadn’t spontaneously combusted the second she touched your thigh.

Minjeong’s fingers lingered on the hem of your sweater, her knuckles grazing skin. She leaned in just a bit more—her mouth dangerously close to your ear—and said, voice low:

“Everyone’s looking at you.”

Your heart jumped so hard you nearly choked.

She pulled back slowly, smug. “Bet you didn’t think wearing that skirt would make you the main character.”

You blinked, struggling to find your voice. “I didn’t wear it for them…”

Minjeong raised a brow.

“I wore it because you asked.”

That got her.

The smirk faltered for a half second, replaced by something softer—surprised, maybe even a little shy, though she’d never admit it. Her tongue poked the inside of her cheek as she looked you over again.

“…You’re gonna kill me,” she muttered under her breath.

And then—

“Hey!” someone shouted across the room. “We’re doing truth or dare in the living room. Get in here, Minjeong! Bring your girlfriend!”

Your brain stuttered.

Minjeong didn’t correct them. Just turned to you with a tilt of her head. “You in?”

“I—” You hesitated. “I’m bad at games.”

“You’re bad at everything,” she replied sweetly. “Come on.”

You were pretty sure your legs didn’t even work right as she grabbed your hand—your hand—and pulled you through the crowd. People glanced over as you passed, some whispering, others straight-up staring. You, the awkward, quiet tutor girl, holding hands with the most terrifyingly attractive brat on campus like it was normal.

You sat down beside her on the floor in the circle, already tense. The game had clearly started—half-empty cups, people mid-laugh, someone yelling about a dare involving whipped cream and the upstairs bathroom.

Minjeong didn’t let go of your hand.

Jimin sat across the circle, raised a brow at the sight of you, and smirked knowingly.

It was Minjeong’s turn. The bottle spun, slow and lazy, until it landed directly on… you.

A chorus of “oooooh”s filled the room.

You swallowed hard.

Minjeong leaned forward, that bratty glint fully returning to her eye. “Truth or dare, loser?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Thought about lying.

“…Truth,” you said weakly.

She pouted. “Coward.”

Then her eyes gleamed.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Do you like anyone right now?”

Your whole soul short-circuited. The entire circle perked up.

Your voice cracked. “That’s your question?”

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s just a game.”

You looked around. Everyone was watching you. Even Jimin, lips curled into a smirk like she already knew the answer. Especially Minjeong—leaned in, eyes locked on yours, like she was testing something.

You looked at your lap. Then, quietly:

“…Yes.”

Minjeong’s smile froze.

And then her voice dropped, quieter than before. “Do I get to know who?”

You looked up.

And just barely—only loud enough for her to hear—you whispered:

“If I said it was you, would you stop teasing me?”

Minjeong blinked. For once, she was speechless.

Then she laughed, almost breathless, and leaned in closer than ever before. “No,” she said. “That would just make me worse.”

And she still didn’t let go of your hand.

like she always did when she got her way.

Minjeong just stared at you. Like she was recalibrating something in her head.

Then, in classic Minjeong fashion, she leaned back like nothing happened at all—like you hadn’t just admitted you liked her in front of a crowd—and said lazily, “About time you said it.”

You flushed to your ears.

Someone whistled from across the circle. “Damn, is this a real thing now?”

“Obviously,” Minjeong replied with a toss of her hair, tightening her grip on your hand like it was proof.

“She didn’t say your name though,” Jimin pointed out slyly, swirling her drink. “Could’ve been me.”

Minjeong’s head snapped around so fast you could feel the heat rolling off her.

“Oh, really, Jimin?” she said, voice all sugar and knives. “You wanna go there again?”

“I’m just saying,” Jimin shrugged. “She did look kinda cute blushing when I talked to her.”

You, still attached to Minjeong’s hand, wished to be buried in a hole. Immediately.

But Minjeong was already turning back to you, letting go of your hand only to casually sling an arm around your shoulders. You stiffened like a board.

“She blushes when I breathe near her,” she told the group, shooting a smug grin at Jimin. “That doesn’t make you special.”

You whispered, “Oh my god,” under your breath.

The group howled with laughter.

You sank lower against the couch, every inch of your body warm, but Minjeong didn’t move her arm. In fact, her fingers started playing with the loose ends of your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Next round,” someone called, spinning the bottle again. The game moved on, but Minjeong stayed close, thigh pressed to yours, one leg bent so her knee bumped against yours every now and then.

Every time someone got dared to do something loud or messy or flirty, you flinched. But Minjeong? She didn’t let them near you.

“Dare me to kiss anyone here,” someone slurred two seats away, clearly tipsy. “I dare you.”

“Not her,” Minjeong said immediately, pointing at you without even looking up. “She’s off-limits.”

You stared at her.

“Why?” someone asked with a grin.

Minjeong finally turned her head, looked at you—really looked at you, eyes a little darker now, a little softer.

“Because I’m gonna kiss her later.”

And just like that, you forgot how to breathe.

_____

You weren’t sure how you got here.

One second you were in the living room, sitting next to Minjeong with your face burning and your thoughts short-circuiting. The next, she was tugging your hand again, weaving you through the crowd like she owned the place (which, for all you knew, she might), until you reached the back hallway—quiet, dimly lit, with only the low bass of music muffled through the walls.

You stopped just outside an empty guest room.

She let go of your hand but stepped in close again, crowding you gently against the wall, her gaze unreadable but focused like a laser.

“You okay?” she asked, and for the first time tonight, her voice was calm. Serious.

You nodded too fast. “Y-Yeah. Just a little warm.”

Minjeong smiled—crooked and knowing. “You always get like this around me?”

You wanted to lie, but all you could do was squeak, “Maybe.”

She hummed, pretending to think. “That’s cute.”

Your breath caught when she reached up and brushed your hair away from your face. Her fingers were light, warm, more careful than you expected. And you hated—hated—how easily you melted under her touch.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured. “About kissing you.”

Your throat closed up. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she said plainly. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

You looked up at her, heart hammering, cheeks hot. You didn’t say anything—but you didn’t pull away either.

That was enough for Minjeong.

She leaned in slowly, giving you time, watching you for even the smallest flinch.

And when her lips finally brushed against yours—soft, teasing at first—you forgot how to think. It wasn’t rough or rushed or showy like you thought it might be. It was patient. Curious. Gentle, even as her hand settled on your waist and her body pressed a little closer.

You gasped just slightly, and she smiled into the kiss like she’d won a prize.

When she pulled back, it was only by a few centimeters. Her breath was warm on your lips.

“You’re really bad at hiding it,” she whispered.

“Hiding what?” you managed to breathe.

“How much you like me.”

You didn’t deny it.

Minjeong grinned—smug, beautiful, bratty. “Lucky for you, I like you back. Even if you’re a total loser.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said, dazed.

She kissed you again.

And this time, you kissed her back.

_____

The air hit you like a wall the second you stepped out the front door. Crisp, cold, sharp against your legs—the skirt suddenly felt like a criminal choice.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, already regretting not bringing a jacket. Not that you’d planned to be here long enough to need one.

Minjeong followed behind, pulling the door shut, the muffled sound of music and party noise sealing off in an instant. The night was quiet now. Just the wind, a few distant voices, and your heart still fluttering from what had just happened.

“You’re freezing,” she said, eyes flicking to your bare arms.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly. “It’s not that—”

Before you could finish, she was already sliding off her jacket. Not just any jacket. A black designer bomber, subtly monogrammed with tiny initials and a luxury brand name you definitely couldn’t pronounce.

She held it out.

You blinked at her. “Minjeong, that’s like… probably worth more than my tuition.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a jacket. And you’re shivering.”

“I’m not—”

“Take it,” she said flatly. “Before I get mad about it.”

You stared.

She stared back.

You slowly took the jacket, and the weight of it was immediate. Heavy, expensive, warm—and it smelled like her. Some kind of clean, expensive perfume and something uniquely her. You pulled it on, the sleeves way too long, the shoulders slightly too broad.

And still, it felt… safe.

Minjeong looked you over once, then smirked. “Cute. Loser in designer. New aesthetic?”

You scoffed. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look like you’re mine,” she said under her breath. Then louder: “And it’s not ridiculous if I say it’s hot.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

She watched you fumble, grinning smugly, before walking ahead a few steps—then pausing and turning around, waiting for you to follow.

You did, hugging her jacket closer to your body, still buzzing from the kiss, her scent, her voice—everything.

She glanced back at you again.

“You hungry?”

You looked up. “What?”

“I’m starving,” she said. “Let’s go get food. I’m not ready to drop you off yet.”

“Minjeong—”

“Don’t argue,” she cut in. “You’re wearing my jacket. That makes you my responsibility.”

You rolled your eyes, flustered and grinning, and followed her into the cold.

The diner was exactly what you needed. Small, dimly lit, and filled with the faint hum of quiet chatter from a few other late-night customers. The warm glow from the neon signs outside flickered through the windows, giving everything a surreal, almost dream-like feel.

You slid into the booth across from Minjeong, still wearing her oversized designer jacket, which now felt like it belonged to you—despite the overwhelming scent of her still lingering on it. She didn’t say anything as she picked up the menu, her face softening for a split second before she took a casual glance at you.

You glanced down at the menu too, trying to look normal, but your fingers were still numb from the cold and your mind was racing a million miles an hour. You couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened—what she had said, the way she kissed you, how she’d taken off her jacket without hesitation and handed it to you.

She leaned back in the booth, her eyes scanning the menu, though you caught the way her gaze flicked to you every now and then, like she was waiting for you to say something.

“Don’t make me do all the talking,” she finally said, voice teasing. “Order something. It’s late. And I’m starving.”

You nodded, but before you could even pick something, she already waved the waitress over.

“I’ll have the pancakes and a coffee,” Minjeong said casually, flipping the menu shut. Then she turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “You?”

You hesitated, still feeling the weight of the moment, the kiss, the intimacy of it all. Finally, you settled on something easy—“Uhm, I’ll just have a burger, I guess.”

The waitress nodded and left.

You stared at the table, the silence between you stretching on. Minjeong didn’t say anything at first, letting you stew in your thoughts, her posture relaxed but the slight smile on her lips betraying a soft satisfaction.

“You’re really quiet all of a sudden,” she finally remarked, leaning in just a little. “That’s not like you.”

“I’m just… thinking,” you admitted, not really wanting to meet her gaze, but feeling the pull to do so. “About, well… everything.”

Minjeong’s lips curled up, a half-smirk forming. “And what exactly are you thinking about?” Her voice was lighter, teasing, but there was something underneath it, a small vulnerability that slipped through the cracks in her usual brash demeanor.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to explain. “Just… you know. How things just kinda… happened?”

She tilted her head, eyes scanning your face for a moment. “It wasn’t that sudden, was it?” she asked, her tone more serious now, the playful edge gone.

You shrugged. “I mean, you were kind of… teasing me all night, and then the kiss, and now we’re here. I guess I didn’t really think it’d go this way.”

Her gaze softened a little, and she leaned forward just enough to close the space between you two. “You didn’t think I’d kiss you?”

You shook your head, feeling like an idiot. “No, I— I don’t know what I thought.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Minjeong reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours for the briefest second, making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m not gonna lie,” she said softly, her gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that was rare for her. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

You froze.

“I just didn’t know if you’d want it. I didn’t know if you’d be into it.” She paused, biting her lip in that way that sent a shiver through you. “But when you looked at me like that… I kinda lost control.”

You felt your face flush again, your chest tightening. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me? Seriously?”

She smirked again, just a little, but there was no mistaking the softness in her eyes now. “Why do you think I’ve been teasing you? Flirting with you?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your mind was still processing. Minjeong… wanted you? All along?

Before you could speak, the waitress arrived with their orders, setting the plates down with a quiet smile before walking off.

You reached for your burger, but your hand was shaking—just a little.

Minjeong noticed.

She leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms over her chest, the soft smile still on her lips as she watched you carefully. “Relax,” she said gently. “I’m not gonna bite. At least, not unless you want me to.”

You shot her a playful look, finally shaking your head and trying to settle into the moment. “I’m still figuring out what to do with you.”

“Good luck with that,” Minjeong said with a grin, reaching for her coffee. “I’m not easy, you know.”

You laughed quietly, still trying to get used to the idea of this—her teasing, her soft moments, the fact that she wanted to be close to you.

Minjeong’s eyes softened again, a little less cocky now, a little more real. “I’m serious though,” she said, her voice quieter, almost shy. “You do look cute in my jacket.”

You smiled, a little more at ease. “Thanks, Minjeong.”

“Anytime, loser.”

______

You took a bite of your burger, still flustered but feeling more comfortable now that the silence wasn’t quite as awkward. Minjeong was sipping her coffee, her fingers wrapped loosely around the mug, and you couldn’t help but notice the way she looked—more relaxed than usual, a little less like the untouchable queen of the campus and a little more like… well, someone you could actually talk to.

After a few more seconds of silence, you caught her glancing at you, a playful glint in her eye as she waited for you to say something.

And, for some reason, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Jeongie,” you said out of nowhere.

Minjeong blinked, the coffee cup pausing halfway to her lips as she stared at you. “What did you just call me?”

You tried to hold back your smile, knowing you had the upper hand now. “Jeongie. It fits you. You can’t just be ‘Minjeong’ all the time. It’s way too formal.”

Her eyebrow arched. “Jeongie?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, your grin getting wider. “It’s cute. I think it suits you better than ‘Minjeong.’ It sounds more… playful. Fun.”

Minjeong set her cup down, a small laugh escaping her as she leaned forward, looking at you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Jeongie, huh? Is that what you think of me?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the fact that your heart was suddenly racing again. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re definitely a little bratty sometimes, but I think you have a softer side. I think you like the nickname.”

Minjeong leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms and giving you a sideways smile. “You’re bold, aren’t you?”

You shrugged again, but this time your grin was playful. “What can I say? You bring it out in me, Jeongie.”

Her eyes narrowed in mock annoyance, but there was something warmer behind them now—something that made her seem less like the untouchable goddess and more like someone real. Someone you could actually imagine getting to know better.

“You’re gonna regret that nickname, loser,” she said with a sly grin, but there was no heat behind it. In fact, her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile.

“No way,” you retorted confidently, biting into your burger. “It’s perfect. You look more like a Jeongie than a Minjeong anyway.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact, she leaned across the table again, her face now just inches from yours. “You’re so cute when you’re being a little brat, you know that?”

Your breath caught at the closeness. The teasing tone in her voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Stop flirting,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Minjeong’s smirk only deepened, and she sat back in her seat again, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m not flirting. I’m just telling you the truth.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Jeongie, you’re impossible.”

“That’s why you like me,” she replied smoothly, looking far too smug for someone who had just claimed that they weren’t flirting.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you filled with a mix of teasing and something else—something soft, almost like you were both trying to get used to the idea that you were sitting here together, just the two of you, talking in a way that felt more real than the game you’d been playing earlier that night.

Then, Minjeong’s voice broke the silence, quieter than before.

“You know, I’m really glad you came tonight,” she said, her tone a little more genuine, less teasing. “I… I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up to the party. Or if you’d even want to be around me, after everything.”

You were caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. Minjeong—Jeongie—wasn’t the type to let people see her like this. She was usually cocky, sure of herself, a little untouchable.

But now? There was something else there. Something softer.

“I almost didn’t,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But… I’m glad I did too. I… I like being around you. Even if you’re a brat.”

Minjeong looked down for a second, almost like she was processing your words, before her gaze met yours again. There was that familiar spark in her eyes, but it was mixed with something else now—something warmer.

“I like being around you, too, loser,” she said softly, before leaning back in the booth with her usual cocky grin. “But don’t get used to me being nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, feeling a wave of warmth spread through you. There was something about this side of her—the side she only showed when it was just the two of you—that made you feel a little braver. A little more confident.

“Jeongie, I don’t think I could ever get used to you being nice,” you teased, feeling more playful now. “You’re way too much of a brat for that.”

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward again, her voice low and dangerous. “Keep calling me that, and I’ll make sure you never forget who’s in charge, loser.”

The intensity of her gaze sent a thrill through you, but you couldn’t help but smirk back.

“Only if you can keep up, Jeongie.”

229 notes · View notes

dammn-dean · 2 years ago

Text

Unexpected

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Words: 4000

Warnings: Pregnancy, secrets, probably a bit out of character

I wanted to write a pregnant!Reader fic so here we are... I haven't written in a long time and this is my first time writing a COD character! Any and all feedback is welcome 🖤

Shout out to @babygirl-riley for helping me with this. Thank you!

“Simon?” your small voice echoes from the phone.

“Yeah?” He answers, in his typical bored voice.

Only letting the phone ring once before answering. Obviously he wouldn’t have answered if he wasn’t available at the moment, but you never know.

“Are you… busy?”

Your voice is different… raising Simon’s curiosity. He could only think of a handful of times since he met you that you had ever even tried calling him without sending a text first to check if he was in at base or not.

“A little, why?” He doesn’t mean to sound so gruff, but he does. He also wasn’t necessarily busy, but he wasn’t in the mood to chat with you. His day was especially shit today.

“I.. um well,” you hadn’t had time to come up with what to say. “I am sorry for not telling you before now and if you wish that I would have never said anything… well I’m sorry for that too.” Your words were rushed together, barely making any sense.

“Just spit it out will ya?”

You physically flinch from his rashness. Simon wasn’t always this way, but the past few months it seemed he stayed irritated at you. Just the sensitivity of the subject was already difficult enough, paired with his attitude towards you. This was going to be a rough call. “Sorry..” your heart is beating so fast you are wondering if it’s making matters worse, “I just wanted to tell you-“

Pain shoots through you, what once was a small little reminder of the state your body was in began its first real shock of what was happening. You let out a gasp and small noise of discomfort. That made him stand up from the chair he was sitting in and call your name over the phone. You almost missed it, the pain causing the phone to be pulled from your face.

“Love, what is it? Are you hurt?” Simon was actually worried now. Once the pain subsides you huff a small laugh. “Well, kind of yeah but no I’m okay.”

Simon’s brows pulled together at that, he was more confused than ever. Before waiting for a response he snagged his keys from his pants as his legs carried him to the parking lot at base. “Where are you?” He all but growled.

“No, it’s okay, you don’t need to come to me. I’m okay,” you smiled to yourself. You had convinced yourself you could do this alone. Damn your weakness for even calling him to begin with. “I am about to head to the hospital.”

“What do you mean? Tell me where you are… I’m on the way.” You could hear the door to his truck slamming and the engine cutting on.

“You may not want to once I say what I have to say,” you whispered.

“I’m pregnant.”

Simon felt his blood run cold. He didn’t speak, just continued his way out of the base. Brain not keeping up with what was happening.

“I… have been pregnant. And the baby is coming. I- Our baby is coming Simon.” Your eyes squeezed shut with the confession. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears so loud you almost missed his response.

“Where are you?” He actually growled this time.

“The apartment…” you replied meekly.

You could feel another round of contractions starting up. You dropped to the floor and before allowing yourself to scream over the phone you dropped it to your lap, and road out the contraction. Once the pain eased up some you heard your name being repeated from the speaker, his voice urgently asking for a response. You picked back up the phone, “I’m sorry…” you felt tears prickling your vision.

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

You hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. What started as something you happily found out turned into your best kept secret.

It was around the two year mark of you starting this relationship with Simon. You two had met and after many months of being friendly you had fallen for him first… it was quick for you to love him and you had fallen hard. Simon took a little more time to open up and things weren’t always easy, but you loved each other thoroughly.

Simon was gone on a month long mission when you started noticing something was up. You were getting queasy from random things that never had upset your stomach before. That was your first clue to get a test, so without much thought when you ran to the store for some things for dinner after work, you grabbed a pregnancy test. You got home, started working on dinner, making one of Simon’s favorites as a surprise. He was coming back for a short while before heading off for another mission and he was due home any moment. Since he hadn’t made it home yet so you figured you would bring the test into the bathroom and get it over with. Yet 5 minutes later the small white plastic showed you the truth - Positive.

You sat in your apartment’s bathroom, looking at the little plus sign. Mind reeling, a thousands thoughts flying through your head. Were you ready to become a mom? How would Simon take the news? Does he even want to be a dad? How would you balance having a baby with Simon’s work schedule?

He had knocked at the door, shaking you from your thoughts. “You alright love?” He had been in your apartment for about 10 minutes, waiting for you to leave the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

You hadn’t even noticed him coming into the apartment. Without much thought you grabbed the test, tossed it in the bin and quickly washed your hands before opening the door.

You grinned at him, “Yes of course. Sorry!”

Your arms wrapped around him instinctively as a greeting, but his body tensed instead of attempting to hug back like he usually did. You withdrew with a questioning face.

“I missed you,” you tried to adjust your face into a small smile. “Are you okay?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” Was all he offered, then he headed into the bathroom. Your eyes widened and followed his back until he shut door behind him. Definitely must not have been a great day at work. Simon doesn’t tell you much about what he does day to day, but you can’t imagine any of it is easy on him.

So without asking again, or following after him you went back to making dinner. Now your thoughts were muddled of the thoughts of parenthood, and this baby. Your face couldn’t help the small grin that popped up, a hand coming to gently rest on your stomach. By the end of cooking everything and getting plates ready you had decided you would tell Simon after dinner. Sure you only have taken the one pregnancy test, but you wanted to go ahead and give him the news. That’s when you realized he still hasn’t came from the bedroom, that used to be just yours and slowly has turned into both of yours. Now it was your turn to knock on the door to the bathroom.

“Dinner is ready… I made one of your favorites to celebrate you being home.” You couldn’t help the cheerful tone your voice held.

The door ripped open at that. His hair was still wet from his shower, he was dressed down in sweats and a black t-shirt. You smiled at him and reached a small hand out to him.

His eyes met yours for a moment before chancing a quick glance to your outstretched hand. “Not hungry.”

You were usually pretty receptive to his reactions and as much as it confused you, you dropped your hand back down to your side. “Oh okay… well I will put it in the oven to keep warm until you are,” you suggested. Your stomach was rolling, for many reasons. The news of the pregnancy, the actual sickness the pregnancy was bringing you and how Simon was acting had your nerves on edge.

“You go ahead,” his eyes didn’t quite meet yours “The crew and I have a lot to debrief on… we leave on the next mission in a few days. I think I’m going to head back to base for the night,” he bluntly stated. He gently walked past you into the room, collecting items into his duffel bag.

“Well I made dinner especially for you, I hoped we could enjoy it tog-“

“I said I wasn’t hungry.” He didn’t yell, but he definitely spoke louder to you than he typically did.

You couldn’t help the small breath of air you took in, and he rolled his eyes at that. “Please,” he said your name with a sigh. “I am not in the mood for this.”

“Okay,” you whispered. Eyes welling up with tears, but before they could fall in front of him, you turned to head back into the kitchen. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes before they could fall as you made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed the food you had spent the last hour or so working on and dumped it into the trash. You flung the pot into the sink before reaching for the next dish to toss.

“What are you doing?” Simon grasped your arm before you could throw away the main entrée.

“I’m throwing out the food. What does it look like??” You couldn’t help the angry tone your voice took on. “I made all of this for you. And you don’t want it, so I’m getting rid of it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it… I just-“

“You aren’t hungry,” You cut him off. “I get it.” Using your free hand to wipe a stray tear that was threatening to fall.

His eyes softened and he released your arm. “I’m sorry… yeah? You know I hate when I get back then immediately have to leave again.” Simon tried to comfort you, but it was too late. “I probably should have just stayed at the base as is… I just have a lot on my plate.”

“Yeah I got it,” you coldly replied as you sat the now cold entrée onto the counter. To know you spent all day thinking of things to make his day back special… and to hear him wish he wouldn’t have even came. Just breaks your will. You then felt tired to your bones, unwilling to argue as you decided to call it a night. As you head to your bedroom, over your shoulder you said “Tell the boys I said hi.”

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

That was the last time you had seen Simon in person. A little over 7 months ago since he had stepped foot into your apartment. You had given him the silent treatment for a while. Well, if he would have had access to a phone you would have definitely given him the silent treatment.

He was gone with no way to contact him. Which you didn’t mind, initially. It had been a few weeks since Simon had left and since you found out about the pregnancy. Things were beginning to catch up and take a toll on you. From the physical aspects of being pregnant, to you being lonely with Simon being gone for so long, and work was awful. Your stomach was starting to grow, everyone around you noticing the baby bump but you never acknowledged it. You hadn’t even gotten to break the news to Simon, it didn’t feel fair to talk about the baby to random co-workers. A few doctors appointments had come and gone, confirming the pregnancy. You had decided to not find out the sex of the baby or really even look at the screen during the sonogram appointment. Just letting the doctor check on the baby’s health, that was all that mattered to you.

It’s the middle of the night, your bladder waking you. You got up and made your way to the bathroom to relieve yourself. Once you were back in bed under the covers you felt sleep pulling you back in but before you could fall asleep your phone started to vibrate. Incoming call from an unknown number. Simon

You were thinking about not answering but you decided to pick up the phone anyway.

“Hello…” you answered quietly.

“Sweetheart,” Simon sighs “I’m sorry to be calling you so late. I finally had access to a phone and I, well… missed you.”

Your lip was pulled between your teeth. You were feeling all kinds of emotions. You wanted to still be upset with him, but at this point you couldn’t even feel anything except the loneliness of life without him here.

“I miss you too,” you responded as you adjusted yourself in bed to sit up right.

“Fuck love, missed your voice.” He is talking low, probably just barely out of earshot from the guys. “Hate leaving how I did, and going this long from ya.”

“Was pretty bad Si,” you spoke honestly. “Don’t get me wrong… I know your job is insanely difficult and hard on you. I just wish sometimes you would think about what it does to me too.”

Simon sighs again, “I know… I just… I’m trying.”

And he was trying, he made that obvious to you. His communication was better than it was in the beginning. Simon is a very closed off man, and he has let you in more than he ever told himself he would allow another person in. You just have that way about you, and it drives him crazy in the best way.

“I wish I was calling with better news, it looks like it’ll be a while before I’m able to come back.”

“What is ‘a while’?” You whisper back, suddenly feeling choked up. He had already been gone for longer than usual.

“Price is thinking a couple weeks here, but we have some new intel… may keep us busy for the next couple of months, love.” Simon hated breaking this to you after staying away so long. Being with him was insanely unfair to you, but you had convinced him this was the life you wanted. You wanted him.

“Okay.” You had tears falling freely now. And you brought a hand to rest on your tummy.

“I have something to tell you,” you started.

“Hang on sweetheart.” He interrupted. You heard commotion on the other end of the phone. Then Simon’s voice was back, “I’m sorry, I have to go. When I’m back at base I’ll be able to text ya, yeah?”

“Oh… okay. Yeah.” You gave yourself a sad smile. “I love you. Stay safe.” As much as Simon needed to know about the baby… how wasn’t the time.

“Always.” And with that he hung up.

That was the last time you attempted to bring up the baby to him. You realized that Simon was going through a lot and you just could never figure out the best way to say it.

He did text you here and there, letting you know he was okay. Simon let you know when they were back at base a few days ago, with an excuse as to why he couldn’t come to your apartment. You wish that you could recall the reason, but it just seemed like maybe he didn’t want to come home to you. Simon just hadn’t been able to make the time to come see you… Until now.

Simon stood in the doorway watching your frantic form gather things from around the apartment. Shoving some things into a bag, before disappearing and returning with a baby bag that seemed to be full. That’s when your eyes connected. You felt your eyes well up with tears, oh how you missed him.

“Simon,” your lips trembling with emotion.

He honestly couldn’t place what he was feeling. Seeing you for the first time in months, and here you were, a few feet away with a hand on your pregnant belly… Belly holding /his/ child. A child he would have never known existed if you didn’t bravely call him moments ago. He ripped the balaclava off his head, showing you the true emotion of his face. One of the downsides of always wearing a mask, he can’t regulate his face well.

“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice was almost unrecognizable. “I’m here… what do you need?”

You let a tear fall down your cheek and smiled. “I’m so happy you’re here.” You took the few steps left between you and reached in to hug him.

Although at the last moment you hesitated, unsure if he wanted the contact. Instead you let your hands awkwardly fall to your sides. Simon had never been so upset with himself. Watching you want nothing more than to hug him but withdrawing from him. You were always overly cautious of his needs, but had he ever shown you the same? You were pregnant with his child, yet you didn’t want to tell him the news, always scared you were a bother to him. Has he made you feel this way? All this time away from you… for what? He could have made the time to check in on you.

“I’m glad I’m here too, love…” his voice held a softness to it only held for you. His hand reaches out to brush softly against your arm. Softening you up to his presence. Unsure of what caused the next words to come out, Simon muttered “May I?” His eyes met yours before he glanced at your stomach.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ears. “Of course Si…” and his hand immediately came to rest on your belly.

You let out a small gasp at the contact. Your hands gravitating to his ungloved hand resting on your protruding stomach. Stopping yourself an inch or two from making contact.

“Can you make me a promise?” Simon spoke softly, eyes meeting yours again.

“Anything, you know that,” you smiled at him.

“When you want to touch me, please just do it. When you want me to touch you, you tell me. If you have something you want to tell me… just say it. But especially when you need or want me here with you… you tell me love.” Simon felt the sensation of being choked up, he only hoped his voice didn’t crack. “I love you and I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you,” he whispered. He kept one hand on your stomach while the other came to grasp your face. “I am so sorry.”

You couldn’t even try to stop the tears from falling now. “It’s okay Simon… I am so glad you are here no-“ another contraction began. You grit your teeth, trying to remember the breathing you had practiced, but the pain was still there.

This is probably the biggest thing that Simon was not prepared for. Had he spent his life inflicting pain upon others? When needed, yes. How many people had he seen in distress and never felt one thing about it? Basically every time. Yet here he was watching you writhe in pain, wasn’t something he handled well.

“Jesus Christ…” he grasped onto you. Keeping you upright. “Let’s get to the hospital, yeah?”

You didn’t put up a fight, letting him help you to his truck. Before he could open the door you stopped him.

“What’s the matter?” He asked worriedly. “We can’t…” you took a deep breath before continuing. “We can’t drive the baby back in your truck. The car seat is in my car.” You avoided his eyes.

Simon felt a pang of something up his spine, similar to jealousy but close to disappointment in himself. You were completely and wholly ready to have this baby without him. He felt a huge sense of pride in you and your independence but he was also upset at himself for making you do all of this alone.

“Alright yeah, makes sense,” he kept his voice calm. Leading you to your car, asking for keys and guiding you in gently to the passenger side.

“I’m going to run backup for your things lovie… I’ll be back in a minute.” With that he was off and Simon was back in under the minute. Bags in hand, tossing them in the backseat before heading to the closest hospital.

Simon is as silent as ever. He was doing his best to drive safe, but he also had a huge sense of urgency to him. His mind couldn’t slow down and allow him to catch up with what was happening. Thoughts clouding his mind and taking up all his capacity to think.

“I’m sorry..” you started again. Breaking him of his thoughts. God how long had he been silent? “I know you’re busy and I ha-“

“Stop,” he said with a sigh.

Your eyes cut to him quickly, before returning to your lap.

“Please stop saying sorry to me,” eyes cutting to you. “I am the one who is sorry and who should be begging for your forgiveness. I can’t believe I haven’t made you understand what you are to me. I’m not upset about you not telling me, sweetheart. I’m just sad you have been through all of this alone.” He let out a dry chuckle. His hand reached out for your stomach again. “I have done nothing in this life to deserve you.” He let out a wet chuckle, “but fuck… am I glad you’re mine.”

You grinned between the tears. Your hand covered his easily now, without hesitation. The feeling of his warm hand softly brushing your stomach was something you had been longing for. “You deserve more than me, but I’m glad I’m yours too.” You let out a small wink when his eyes let yours briefly before they were back on the road in front of him.

You felt another surge of pain shooting through you. The contractions n were definitely getting more frequent. You started your breathing again, this time squeezing his hand to help take your mind off it. Once the pain subsided some you could hear Simon’s voice sweetly talking you through it.

After a couple breaths, you steadied yourself. “I found out I was pregnant the day you left, ya know… before.” You admitted. You heard his big inhale at the confession.

“The night with the… dinner?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to clarify. It could have been a big moment to you and not to him, you suppose.

“Fuckin’ hell baby…” Simon sighed.

“I just wasn’t sure where we stood,” you gulped. “I couldn’t tell how you were feeling and I honestly don’t even know if you like kids.” You let out a dry laugh. “I had this whole plan, god it was a halfway thought out plan. We would eat dinner, celebrate you being home and I would tell you the news.” You hadn’t let go of his hand even as it fell to your lap. “But with the way everything happened I just didn’t know what to do or how to tell you… so I didn’t.” You finished with a shrug.

“I like kids,” he admitted. “In case you’re still wondering.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him for what felt like the 20th time since he arrived at your apartment.

“As for the rest… I don’t know how to explain how I behaved that night. Of course if I knew… I wouldn’t have acted like that. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. Fuck what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m glad you like kids.”

“Changing the subject, yeah?” You can hear his grin.

You turned a little to look at him better. “We will get through this. Will probably have to have a few talks about everything but for now. Let’s get this baby out of me.”

You can see the lights of the hospital casting over his features as he pulls into the emergency lane. With one deep breath that you two seemed to share, “It’s go time Si.”

I hope you all enjoyed this! If you would like a part 2 of the hospital and then the aftermath... feel free to let me know in a comment!

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part Two

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty #pregnant reader #dad!simon

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stars-in-transit · 6 months ago

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Okay first fic written in maybe TEN YEARS. I want to preface that I am NOT up on the sonic lore, I watched sonic underground as a kid and the movies recently, the lore I know is from what I have dug into the internet for and the fics I’ve been reading so you enjoy this or else !!

Devour you | Knuckles x reader

Content: Fem!reader, nsfw, probably OOC but OH WELL

A/N: I literally cannot get my brain to write any further rn bc this was written by an asexual who HATES having to write or read any version of genitals but enjoys the general vibe LMAO

Devour You

You sighed with content as his lips left yours momentarily, so he could speak the same speech you had gotten so used to.

“I will worship and honour your body,” he declared like an oath.

You took a deep inhale, exhaling through your nose as you looked back at him. A halfhearted smile across your features. This sigh was filled not so much with content as it was apathy. Knuckles was by no means a bad lover, that wasn’t the problem, you were just beginning to grow bored.

You had grown so used to this almost routine way of making love. It would start with some touches, grow into some kisses, Knuckles would declare his oath of worshipping and then you’d fall into the same gentleness and kindness. Attempts to pleasure and please him were softly ignored as he maintained all his focus on you and whilst it was a brilliant experience it was getting stale.

Before he could go any further you pulled your arms back from their languid position around his neck, you kept your expression soft so as to not give him the wrong idea.

“I know you will and I love it but,” you began, your words starting to feel frail in your mouth as you watched your not-so-subtle partner's facial expression start to turn to anxiety, you let another deep sigh out, “I want to know what you want.”

“I want to worship you-” he began but you raised your fingers softly to his lips.

“I want,” you looked him deep in the eyes as you boldened your words, “I want to know what you want for you. I’m not made of glass, I want to feel you without restraint. What do you really want?”

His eyes shifted downwards, he remained silent in a way that caused your stomach to turn and your breath hitch in your throat. His head dropped beside yours, his hot breath on your ear. Usually his breathing was soft and steady, but now it felt almost shaky?

You began to shift, your hand moving to cup his face. Before you could your wrist was pinned to the soft mattress beside your head. With his head still next to yours you could hear each word he spoke crystal clear.

“I want to devour you.”

His voice was dark and husky, lust dripping from every syllable. You had awakened something deep and sensual inside of him that he had been keeping down, hidden beneath his layers of respect and admiration for you as his lover. He didn’t want to scare you, he worshipped you because if he did anything more, he would ravage you.

He stayed unmoving though his grip on your wrist remained, it was as though he was waiting for permission. You could feel the sensations of butterflies in your stomach, the only words you could muster in that moment, coming out much more desperate than you had wanted.

“Please.”

With that there was no more hesitation, his mouth trailed kisses from your soft earlobes to the sensitive skin at the dip of your throat. The kisses soon turned to gentle nips which then quickly changed to harsher bites. His free hand working its way down your body, slowly as it dragged across your skin, the pressure of his palm only showing his neediness for you. Stopping to grab at your hip as your legs entangled around one-anothers.

You wanted to hold him, drape your arms around his neck, you wiggled your wrist that was under his control and he gladly obliged, taking the opportunity to sneak his hand under your shirt and pull it up with him, the fabric now up around your neck as his hand rested on your sternum and his mouth made its way down to one of your breasts.

With one hand he cupped and palmed at the softness of you, your nipple catching between two of his fingers as his mouth latched around the other. He sucked and bit hard, feeling your chest rise as your back arched into him, your head lolling backwards as your jaw hung open, soft, needy moans escaping your throat.

As he worked you, you felt his knee shove under yours and he used it to move your leg outwards, his hips dipping to grind against you. The friction of his muscular body against the thin layer of fabric was tortuous, you wanted more. You bucked your hips back into his and felt his eyes on you. His head whipping up to your ear, his mouth pouring filth into it as his hand on your hip began pulling down your pants. His body was only apart from yours for a fraction of a second as your underwear was torn off and thrown across the room. -----

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting. The way he seemed to pause, looking down at you with what could only be described as a feral intensity. Your lips parted to speak but only a small intake of breath was all you could manage before his hand came up to your cheek, his thumb on your bottom lip. He pulled the soft flesh down slightly, the calloused pad of his thumb a stark contrast to the softness of yourself.

“Open.” his voice was a command, not the usual awkward roughness he usually possessed, this was demanding - leaving zero room for argument.

Knuckles could see the way your eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating, he could hear the sound of your breath hitching in your throat. A bolt of pure, searing hot lust drove itself straight to the pit of his stomach as he watched you obey him. You opened your mouth, allowing him to press his thumb onto your tongue. You didn’t need direction, immediately closing your lips around the digit, tongue swirling around it as you sucked. Your eyes locked onto his own, soft, lewd noises emitting from your throat.

He let out a rumbling growl, one that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into you. His thumb pulled out of your mouth with a lewd pop, he seemed torn between his own desire to be pleased and to please. But god he wanted you. He trailed his hand down your cheek, down to your throat, allowing his claws to graze over the sensitive skin and leaving soft red lines in its wake. He followed his hand with his body, adding another as he stroked down your sides. His claws dug into your hips, almost breaking the skin and causing a soft yelp to come from you as he lifted you up, bending you slightly as he pulled your lower half to him. He kept his eyes locked to yours as he pulled your knees over his shoulders, resting them before leaning in. He kissed the inside of your thigh before nipping at the skin, leaving a red mark. He listened to the mewling moan that tumbled from your lips as he did so, continuing to bite and lick up the inside until he reached the apex of your thighs. He licked a painfully slow line up your slit with the flat of his tongue, still maintaining his eye contact with you. A deep moan came from him as pulled his tongue back into his mouth, savouring the taste of you before pushing mouth back into you with a ferocity that had you gripping the sheets. His tongue swirled and flicked over your clit before closing his mouth around it and sucking harshly. He wasn’t here for you though, not right now. He wanted to taste you, tease you and bring you onto the edge. He left your clit, his long tongue diving into your channel. He lapped at you like he was stranded in a desert and you were his oasis. His moans and grunts vibrating through you each time he swallowed. His claws dug deeper into the soft flesh of your hips leaving small welts of blood forming. It was a heady mixture, the pain, the pleasure and the whorish noises coming from the both of you as he ate you - devoured you.

#knuckles the echidna #knuckles x reader #knuckles x reader smut #sonic fandom #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #smut #knuckles fanfic

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sfblah · 19 days ago

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More Big Nose Dragon GF

[Previous Chapter]

I had some more writing juice left in me so I did some more of the thing. Also I'm so attached to Aster that I just had to have @debachoory do a portrait of her. Love how it turned out, friggin huge nose dragon gf.

Female sneezes, nose play, micro/macro, various causes

-----

Aster has gotten herself into a bit of trouble. She’d been tasked with keeping track of the university’s alchemy supplies, and she had the misfortune of sneezing into a jar of pixie dust. Not wanting to call attention to her little accident, she instead chose to replenish the reagent herself. And with the next alchemy lab session happening tomorrow, she doesn’t have much time.

Pixies live in the woods, right? Aster can only hope that at least one does as she pushes her way through the trees. Normally her long strides would enable her to cover a lot of ground quickly, but in a forest where she’s almost as tall as many of the trees, she’s not quite so lucky. Her short wolf cut hair has picked up a few sticks and leaves after only a few minutes, and despite her rough exterior she flinches away from every branch that swings too close to her face. It seems her only stroke of luck is that hay fever season hasn’t rolled around just yet.

A sudden wave of dizziness washes over the draconata. Aster stops in her tracks, closing her eyes and lightly pinching the high bridge of her big nose. An aroma she can’t describe tickles her nostrils, and when she opens her eyes, the scenery around her feels the same as it had been a moment ago, but also just slightly different. The inconsistencies become more unsettling the longer she looks around, and she can only hope this means a fae creature of some kind is nearby.

“Hello?” Aster calls out, slowly spinning in place. She knows she could easily handle any physical danger, but fae are not to be trifled with. Or so she’s heard. Aster’s never actually met one before.

Ugh, this is a stupid idea. Just fess up to sneezing in the jar, surely the alchemy professors will understand. Even if they don’t, whatever punishment they mete out is guaranteed to be more reasonable than a deal with the fair folk. Aster shakes her head and turns around, hoping to simply go back the way she came. But, just as she takes a single step, she feels something perch on the wide, upturned tip of her nose. She crosses her eyes to look, and she’s hit with a surge of fear and excitement when she finds herself face to face with a pixie.

“Golly, you sure are a pretty gal.”

Aster’s mouth opens wordlessly, and eventually she manages a dumbfounded “you really think so?” Her cheeks flush once her brain catches up. The pixie lifts off from her nose after giving it a reassuring pat on the bridge.

“Why, of course I do! Just look at your cool hair, those beautiful eyes, and this lovely big nose.”

Words escape her. Aster’s blush deepens, and she can’t hold back a bashful smile. The pixie gives a twirl and a giggle, speaking up once more when Aster is clearly too flustered to.

“Now, what can a humble pixie do for you this fine evening? Is everything alright, sugar?”

Eyes widening for a split second, Aster finally recalls her task. She digs an empty jar out of her bag and fidgets with it, not wanting to thrust it at the pixie too abruptly.

“Oh, I, um.”

The draconata clears her throat and gathers herself, earning a silent chuckle from her host.

“I was hoping to obtain a jar of pixie dust,” Aster announces plainly. It’s an ordeal to resist a long-winded explanation, but she knows it’s best not to give a fae any unnecessary details. Plus, she doesn’t want to bore the little thing. Or embarrass herself by speaking the tale aloud. The pixie flutters around the jar, taking a closer look.

“Hmm, I see, I see,” she says, a hand on her chin. “And what would you offer in exchange? A pixie’s dust is not something to be given away freely.”

“I am prepared to offer some of my scales,” Aster replies. She lifts her shirt, partially exposing her midriff. Shiny purple scales cover her body from her belly to her hips, and the pixie swiftly moves to inspect them.

“Ah, draconata scales. Not as large or as hard as a true dragon’s, but almost as magical, and perhaps better suited to one of my stature. A tempting proposition indeed.”

An unexpectedly long silence passes. Just as Aster is about to ask the pixie if she’s willing to make a deal, she suddenly feels… Upside down. To be clear, she hasn’t moved, and her feet are still planted on the forest floor, but even though she isn’t falling into the sky, gravity seems to be pulling her in the opposite direction.

“But, I think I’m craving something more immaterial today,” says the pixie. Aster feels a little pitter-patter on the underside of her nose, and what she’s unable to see is the tiny fae taking a stroll up and down her wide, spacious septum. She scrunches her face in response to the tickle, and then the world returns upright. Aster wavers slightly as she regains her balance, and then she slowly rubs an outstretched finger back and forth under her nostrils. The pixie flutters up before her once more, smiling brightly.

“Dragonkin, if you would allow me to play with your nose, I will gladly fill your jar with pixie dust.”

“Play with my nose?” Aster queries. The pixie nods enthusiastically.

“You won’t turn it into a snout or anything like that, will you?”

“Would you like me to?”

Aster wordlessly shakes her head.

The pixie giggles until she snorts, rolling head over heels in midair.

“You’re wise to be exacting, but don’t you worry your pretty little head. Cross my heart, I have no desire to alter your state of being. Simply, that nose of yours has charmed me. I wish to become acquainted with it.”

Somehow the pixie’s choice of words makes Aster blush all over again. She rubs her nose, not even to stop a tickle this time, more to cover it up and preserve its decency. But, all things considered, this seems more favorable than any deal she’d expected to get from a fae. Provided the pixie is being truthful, that is. And if not, then Aster supposes she’s already beyond saving.

“Alright,” she says, holding off a sigh. “How long is fair for a jar of pixie dust? An hour?” Not about to let this little thing live in her nose for the rest of her life. The pixie gives her a pitiful, exaggerated frown before straightening and holding up a finger in revelation.

“I, Bixu of the Summer Court, will spend the remainder of this evening with your nose in exchange for two jars of pixie dust,” she proposes, holding out a hand to shake.

Aster hesitates, though not for long. The alchemy professors would likely notice that a second jar had appeared from thin air, but Aster is Aster, not Aster the Wise. Bixu’s entire body is smaller than her little finger, but she too extends her hand. She feels a tiny pinch on her skin, and then the pixie disappears beneath her nose before she can blink.

“My, such elegant nostrils,” sighs Bixu, staring up at the underside of Aster’s nose. She delicately traces a fingertip along the edge of Aster’s left nostril, then her right, leaving them both encircled in a golden glitter. The nostrils flare outward and then gently suck in as Aster unconsciously sniffs up the pixie dust. Her lips part and she emits a low “hheh…”, but any urge to sneeze passes as quickly as it arrives.

“Such power in your breath,” the pixie continues. Aster isn’t sure how to respond to any of this. All she can do is focus on keeping her hands at her sides, not wanting to interfere with the pact.

“Would you be a dear and sniff again, please?”

Aster stammers incoherently for a second before obliging Bixu’s request. She inhales sharply, the suction again thinning her nostrils for a brief instant.

“Good girl. Sniff, sniff!”

Unsure if that was meant to be another command or just a casual remark, Aster sniffs twice rapidly. Bixu gives another giggle snort, and then she climbs over the tip of the draconata’s nose to sit atop it. She straddles across the bridge, splaying her arms, legs, and wings.

“You truly do have a lovely nose, darling,” Bixu moans, nuzzling her face into the soft gray skin.

“Thanks?” Aster replies, one eyebrow raised. If she had a nickel…

A moment passes while Bixu continues to hug Aster’s big nose. At least an hour, but no more than a few seconds. Aster isn’t sure if the sun is beginning to set, or if it’s simply circling around the same point in the sky. Eventually the pixie relaxes her grip and slowly slides down the long nose, coming to rest on the upturned tip. Then, she rolls over the end and disappears beneath it once more. From the light fluttering on her skin, Aster surmises that Bixu is drifting back and forth between her nostrils.

“Which of your nostrils do you prefer? Left or right?” the pixie asks, her tone completely earnest. Aster frowns.

“...I have no idea,” she states flatly. Bixu again traces the outline of her left nostril, then the right, prompting Aster to sharply wriggle her nose.

“Well, the left is slightly narrower,” Bixu observes. “I suspect it becomes stuffed more easily, though it may be less susceptible to irritants.”

Aster can’t begin to guess as to the veracity of such a hypothesis. Probably best not to say anything. Before she can decide what not to say, she feels something, presumably Bixu, shoving its way into her left nostril. Aster snorts, scrunching her nose to the side.

“Well? Is it stuffed?” the pixie asks, her voice echoing inside Aster’s head. Aster tentatively opens one eye.

“It’s a little blocked up, yeah,” she answers, fighting the urge to stick a finger in there and dig the pixie out.

“Only a little, that’s good. I must say it’s quite spacious in here. Your right nostril must be even more so.”

“I guess,” says Aster with an irritated sniff.

Bixu shifts around, taking in the sights. The draconata’s nostril is protected by a dense forest of hairs, and every surface is coated in a soft, powdery soot. Grains of pollen and specks of dust dot the landscape, trapped in the layer of ash. Bixu turns her attention to the closest hair, reaching up into the distance like a mighty tree. Unable to help herself, she gives it a push.

A tickle shoots up Aster’s left nostril, making her scrunch her face yet again. She ponders asking Bixu to get out, but before she can…

“Ah-CHOO!!”

The pixie sneezes shrilly, blasting a puff of soot from Aster’s nostril. She coughs once, then manages a choked “gesundheit.” Bixu crawls back out of the draconata’s nose and pats herself off, leaving a little dark cloud in the air.

“Goodness, excuse me. It’s awfully dusty in there. Doesn’t it make you want to sneeze?”

“Not really,” Aster says, casually rubbing a finger under her nose. Bixu grins as curiosity takes hold of her.

“What happens when you do sneeze? Does it get blown out?” she interrogates, fists clenched with excitement. Aster glances off to the side and scratches behind one ear.

“Uh… Some of it, yeah.”

Bixu clasps her hands together and twirls.

“Oh, that I must see!”

Uh oh.

The pixie disappears under Aster’s nose once again, this time gathering a mound of pixie dust in her palm. She takes aim right between those big, long nostrils, draws a deep breath, and then lets the glittering powder fly free. Moving like a creature all of its own, the stream of dust splits in two before surging up both nostrils. Aster’s face immediately goes slack as the pixie dust reaches deep into her sinuses, tickling everything along the way like a thousand tiny feathers.

“hh… heh…”

Aster’s chest rises and falls as she feels her soot and ash begin to roil in the depths of her nose. For better or worse, Bixu is certainly going to get an up close and personal example of a draconata’s sneeze.

“I… Ohgods… hh-heh!”

One hand still clutching the empty jar, the other raises to hang limply in the air. Hitching breaths turn to gasps, and then gasps turn to intermittent snorts that release preliminary tendrils of smoke. This is going to be a big one.

“heh-hhh-! G-get bahh… ahh… haahh…!”

Bixu ignores Aster’s wispy warning, continuing to hover in place barely more than a foot away. With one final shrieking gasp, the draconata throws back her head, and…

“HRAAHHSHHHOOOOO!!!!!”

Aster unleashes a monstrous sneeze, bending fully at the waist. Thick, dark smoke blasts from both of her nostrils, engulfing not just Bixu, but the entire little clearing around them. At a glance the whole incident must have looked like a small explosion. Aster sits up as the haze dissipates, having stumbled and fallen on her butt in the chaos. She rests against one arm on the ground, while her jar hand firmly scrubs an outstretched finger back and forth under her nose, a bit of smoke still puffing from her nostrils.

“Oh bless you!” chimes Bixu, seemingly no worse for wear after the deluge. “What a big sneeze!”

“Yeah, that was a doozy,” grumbles Aster. She sets the jar down on the dirt beside her and gives her nose a slow, upward wipe with her palm. Her nostrils stretch against her hand as she presses on her nose, but the tickling continues.

“I hope it didn’t hurt your poor nose,” Bixu continues, giving Aster a gentle pat on the bridge. She shakes her head, still scrubbing at her nostrils.

“Nah, just tiih… T-tickles! hhRAHSHHUH!!!”

The draconata suddenly sneezes again. Smaller this time, and with a smaller cloud of soot to match, but it’s still a loud and messy affair.

“Bless you twice!”

“Thanks,” snorts Aster, wiping her nose down the length of her forearm. Later she’ll look back and wonder why she handled this whole fiasco so calmly, but at the moment, what else is she going to do? Well, for one, keep rubbing.

“Ugh, itchy nose…” Aster complains, swiping her fingers back and forth under her nose with gradually increasing speed. Eventually she lets her hand fall away, and she tips her head back to stare up at the sky. The sun is nowhere to be seen, though the forest is still bright and colorful as ever. Aster gives a start when she feels Bixu touch down on her philtrum, best let the pixie do as she pleases. Mercifully her host provides only a cathartic scratching under her nose.

“Scritch, scritch!” Bixu chirps as she kneads the soft skin of Aster’s septum with both hands. Such tiny fingers, but they work wonders on Aster’s big nose. After just a few seconds, the draconata’s nostrils are good as new. She takes a deep breath and sighs, tipping her head back down to gaze at her strange companion.

“That… Actually felt really good,” Aster admits with a shy smile. She slides an outstretched finger across the underside of her nose to chase off any lingering tickles, and Bixu curtseys in mid air.

“Much obliged, dragonkin,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back. “But alas, I believe time is near for us to go our separate ways.” Aster is almost disappointed. Well, she’s not fond of sneezing or having her nose invaded, but this has been… Fun? Maybe? Almost.

“Well, I, uh…” Aster mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Bixu.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” replies the pixie, extending a hand. “One last thing.”

Bixu does her best to cradle Aster’s vast nose with her tiny palm, and she gives it a long, tender kiss right on the tip. A fleeting tickle swirls into both of Aster’s nostrils, making her scrunch up her face, and when she opens her eyes again, Bixu is nowhere to be seen. After giving her nose an upward flick with the side of a finger, she turns to find two jars of pixie dust on the ground beside her, as promised. Aster picks them up and returns one to her bag before spying a small note attached to the second.

My Dearest Dragonkin,

I was in such a rush to make a dramatic exit that I forgot to give you a final warning. Some of my friends can be quite jealous, and they may wish to take you for themselves now that we’ve parted. Hurry on home quick as you can, silent as a very quiet pixie.

Nasally yours, Bixu of the Summer Court

p.s.: Don’t sneeze! Now that you’ve sneezed for me, I might be the one to get jealous if you should happen to sneeze for them…

Aster blinks.

“That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever read in my entire life,” she mutters to herself, staring into the distance. The forest feels darker already. Aster yanks the note off of the second jar and drops it to the ground, and once she’s secured her bag, she begins to retrace her steps. Or at least, she thinks she’s retracing her steps.

Despite the distressing note, Aster soon forgets her worries. Just a brisk walk in the woods back to the university. No problem. No…

Aster stops in her tracks, a chill running up her spine. It wasn’t a noise that startled her so, but rather the complete lack of any. The forest has gone utterly silent, as if the animals and even the wind itself have fled. With no time to think, Aster quietly jogs toward the biggest bush she can see. Hopefully it’ll be enough to obscure her tall form. Aster dives into the foliage with a deafening rustle of leaves, and then stillness sets in once more.

The only sound Aster can detect is the thump of her own heart, but something is passing by. She can’t hear it, see it, or smell it, but she feels it all the same. Has it noticed her? As long as she’s still coherent and in one piece, she can only assume that it hasn’t. The imperceptible presence continues on its way, and Aster remains motionless for what seems like hours compressed into minutes. Eventually the invisible weight lifts from her soul, and a bit of ambient noise returns to the forest.

Aster allows herself a quiet sigh and she peeks her head out of the greenery. But, when she tries to take a breath of fresh air, the air is anything but refreshing. Unlike the fierce, feathery tickle of the pixie dust, the aroma of the undergrowth leaves her feeling sluggish and stuffy.

Oh no.

“Really? Now!?” Aster grumbles under her breath, giving her nostrils a slow, firm rub with her fingers. She glares daggers down at her big nose, and already she can see a few flecks of yellow on her gray skin. Of course she hadn’t brought any allergy potions. Just water, a few snacks, and the jar for the pixie dust. Not even any tissues. Normally she wouldn’t need them for another month, but it seems spring has come for her early.

Still haphazardly rubbing her nose, Aster takes off through the trees. Eventually she wipes her nostrils across her forearm and turns to a full on sprint, trusting that she’s headed in the right direction. Unfortunately she doesn’t get far before her foot snags on a thick root and she stumbles. Aster throws out her arms to steady herself, but still she crashes to the ground. She props herself up on her elbows, ready to leap to her feet…

A colorful flowering shrub bars Aster’s path. That hadn’t been there before she fell. It couldn’t have. Why would she run toward it? Whatever, no time to worry about that now. Aster holds her breath as she tries to back away, already feeling the pollen tickling its way into her nostrils.

“heeh-!”

A minuscule hitched wheeze is enough to halt the draconata in place. Eyelids fluttering, she clumsily maneuvers one hand to rub her fingers back and forth under her nose. The pollen continues its onslaught, and Aster can only slow its advance.

“hh… ghih…”

She snorts softly, her flaring nostrils releasing a small puff of smoke. A gentle breeze clears it away, but the gust is suddenly cut short.

‘Don’t sneeze,’ Aster pleads with herself. She gives one last swipe left and right across her nostrils, slow and firm, and then she presses her fingers up as hard as she can. The aching tickle recedes ever so slightly as her nose compresses on top of her hand. Not enough. Still need to…

“Don’t…! Sneeze!”

She’s too far gone to realize that she’d said the words out loud. The silence zeroes in on her, and if it needs any more help…

“heh-! hHRAAHSHOOO!!!”

Smoke and pollen spew from Aster’s nostrils as she sneezes. Small by her standards, but by no means quiet. She pushes through her disorientation and surges up to resume her sprint.

Nothing.

No shrub, no forest, no ground, no sky. She is nowhere. But not alone.

“Dragonkin!”

A discordant symphony of tiny voices calls out to Aster. Too terrified even to scream, all she can do is wait. Cacophonous fluttering fills her ears, and after a single blink she finds herself surrounded by what must be a hundred pixies, all swirling around her in a mad vortex.

“Hello!” “What’s your name?” “Play with me!” “Where are you from?” “Tell me your name!”

Aster can only recognize an occasional word among the chaos. She keeps her lips tightly sealed. No matter what she says, she knows she’ll regret it. Whatever rational part of her mind remains desperately wants to find a way out, but where can she even escape to?

The air soon grows thick with pixie dust, and more than a little finds its way into Aster’s long nostrils. They begin to flare and wriggle almost immediately, giving her little time to react. She unconsciously lifts one hand toward her face, but she’s unable to make any use of it.

“ha-haa-haaa-! RAAAHCHOOO!!!”

Aster doubles over with a sharp, loud sneeze. The smoke expelled by her nostrils is immediately swept up in the tornado of pixies and carried away, though some of the tiny creatures still take notice.

“A sneeze!” “She sneezes!” “How cute!” “I want to try!” “Do it again!” “She sneezed!” “Sneeze!”

Now she understands Bixu’s warning. Sort of. This is still beyond what Aster could have imagined. She barely has time to straighten before she feels at least a dozen pixies trying to scramble into her nostrils. As vast as they are, they’re not quite big enough for all the pixies to fit at once. Her nose is completely plugged before any of them can get fully inside, but that doesn’t stop them from raising all kinds of havoc.

The pixies fill Aster’s head with glittering dust. They kick up a storm of ash and soot in her sinuses. They play with her nose hairs, tugging on them and tying some together. It’s unlike anything Aster has ever experienced before. All this to say, she really, really needs to sneeze.

“hah… hh-hih…!”

Smoke begins to seep out of the draconata’s nostrils, blocked as they are. None of the fae seem to care, and they continue with their mischief. Swirling soot, quivering nose hairs, it’s all too much.

“ghhah… hih… nnheh!”

Aster’s knees buckle. She would have fallen to the ground if there was any beneath her feet. One pixie finally manages to shove its way past the rest and it soars deep into Aster’s nose, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. The little intruder gives a happy twirl, sending the surrounding nose hairs all aflutter. Aster has reached her limit.

“haahh… Hhaaahhhh…!”

The pixies don’t let up. Soot pours from Aster’s nose, nearly as much as if she’d already sneezed. Plenty of pixie dust is mixed in with the ash, seemingly more than should be able to fit inside the poor draconata. Her besieged nostrils give one last great flare, and her final gasp for breath is more akin to an inward scream.

“HHRAAAAHHHSHHHHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

An enormous cloud of smoke rises above the treetops. Every inch of the clearing below is blanketed in soot, including Aster herself. She lays flat on her back, somewhere between unable and unwilling to move. Some of the dryer plants around her have been singed. She snorts out a pair of smoke rings in the shape of her nostrils and finally sits up with a weak cough.

“hih… hehh… hHREHSHHUH!!”

Another sneeze, another cloud. It’s a wonder she has any smoke left in her. With an exhausted whine, Aster slowly rubs her outstretched fingers back and forth under her nose. She scrubs away until her tickly nostrils are sufficiently numbed, and finally she opens her eyes. The devastation all around her doesn’t surprise her half as much as the fact that there’s anything to see at all. Aster shakily stands, checks her bag and jars, and gives her nose another much needed rub.

“Uh… Excuse me,” she mumbles, her voice tired and congested. She lazily turns her head from side to side, and the pixies are nowhere to be seen. Her big sneeze must have scared them off, or blown them away. Aster frowns, her cheeks warming. Not sure which possibility is more embarrassing.

With no energy left to sprint, she slowly trudges forward. The trees begin to thin, and the university buildings gradually come into view. The campus clocktower reads just after 4:00 in the morning, hopefully the same night and plane of existence from which Aster had set out. She drags herself to the alchemy building, deposits both jars of pixie dust in the store room, and promptly collapses into a chair in the atrium.

“Next time I’ll just tell them I… I… hih… hRAHCHUHH! Ugh…”

Aster lets her head fall back over the top of the chair. She drifts in and out of sleep, exhausted but still too wound up to fully doze off. Eventually a long, pointy nose comes into view from behind, followed by a familiar face staring down at her.

“Aster?”

The draconata blinks slowly.

“Hey, Milly. What’re you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the elf counters, resting a hand on her hip. “I was prepping for my lab later today, then I heard you sneeze. I swear, you’re so loud.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m amazed it’s just me. You probably woke up half the campus with-”

“Yeah. I got it.”

Milly pouts, her slitted nostrils flaring in frustration.

“What happened to you?”

Aster sighs, snorting out two thin wisps of smoke.

“Allergy season came early.”

Milly gawks.

“You expect me to believe this is all because of hay fever? I…”

She trails off, her expression softening almost imperceptibly.

“Do you want a massage?”

Aster grins, slowly rubbing an outstretched finger under the tip of her nose.

“Yes please.”

Milly slaps Aster’s hand away, then she delicately places her fingertips on the draconata’s forehead and nose. A classic Milly sinus massage. Aster’s nose lets off a long, gentle puff of smoke, easing her congestion. Milly frowns at the messy display, but she continues unabated. At least, until…

“M-Mih.. I… heh…”

“Aster, no! Don’t-!”

“hrEHHCHOOO!!!”

“...Sneeze.”

#OC Aster #snz #snz kink #nose kink #snzfic #macro/micro snz #monstersnez #blah writes

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xuntybitxh · 4 days ago

Note

Hi luv! Can you write a fic about the front man x reader, but the reader is the daughter of a vip? An age gap where she’s in like her 20s. And perhaps she got taken to the island because she did something bad and that was her father’s way to ground her. Like he grounded her with no outside comunicación but confined in a luxorius suite you know? What if she had like the personality of Draco Malloy lol. Anyways you’ll write it well I love your fics! If you can add a little spice <3

Tyy!! I hope this is what you wanted

The punishment

Hwang in-ho x reader

Warning: slight choking, smut, fingerings, masterbation, mentions of death, death, cock warming, p in v, unprotected sex, sorry if it's bad

Masterlist!!

Summary: you were brought here as a punishment, with no communication to the outside world. It was a bore, until you figured out a way to have a different kind of fun

You were brought to this island for a punishment, you had cursed out your fathers new girlfriend because it was so obvious she just wanted him for money.

You were given a golden cat mask to put on your face.

"The games this edition have been amazing" your father spoke as he walked down the stairs beside you and fixed his buffalo mask.

"Right. The contest in korea was the best" the guy with the deer mask and big antlers agreed.

"Thank you, i belive the next games will exceed your expectations" the frontman answered.

"Thats why we came all this way" your father said with a chuckle, and the other VIPS agreed.

"Trust me. You know the screens at home are pretty big but uh, nothing beats seeing it with your own eyes" the lion mask began.

Your heels clacked as you walked down the stairs looking at the luxurious room, you took in the sight of everything, the human statues, the waiters, the colorful designs

The moment was quickly interrupted when the man with the tiger mask yelled

"NO! No dont do it you asshole! You idiot!" He yelled at the screen.

"What are you so worked up about" you put your hand on your hips and looked were he was pointing

"Fucking loser! I betted alot of money on that dickhead to win!" He shouted

"Oh how much!" Your father laughs and you watched the player 069 wrap the blanket he made into a rope around his neck.

"A million bucks!" The VIP yelled

"Ooh!" You snickered

"What convinced you to bet so much on that player 69" the guy with the deer mask chuckled

"Ah its just a beautiful number! 69!" He pointed his wine glass up as the other VIPS laughed

"Oh you dirty dog!" The guy with the lion mask laughed.

"You can place your bets again before the next game starts. Why dont you all get some rest in your room. We'll come get you guys when everything is ready." the front man guided you guys down the stairs

"Looking foward to it" you dad nodded and everyone began to walk to their rooms.

"So who you putting your bets on this time" the VIPS asked one another. You walked a good distants behind them. You turned you back and glanced at the front man. You stared at him for a second before looking back towards the VIPS in their own worlds.

You walked up to the frontman

"Excuse me sir. Can i have some food to my room? I think like some kimchi and maybe some gimbop. Make it hot to, if it isnt ill send it straight to your face" You smiled and he nodded.

"Ill send a guard over right away" he cleared his throat and the machine-like voice filled your ears.

"Right away" You replied and turned your heels to walk back to your room. You loved when people were practically at your feet, obeying your every word, maybe itll be boring but this boss man might be fun to toy with.

---

"So how are your scores so far? Bet on any winners?" The guy with the lion masked asked everyone.

"No" the tiger masked guy let out a sigh "for some reason i keep picking losers"

"Then maybe use your brain!" You chuckled and everyone else agreed

"Yeah shes right! So nows your chance to catch up. This rounds the serious betting round." The VIP with the bear mask shouted

"Im doubling my stakes this time" your father yelled out

"Are you sure about that. You dont even know what game its gonna be" the guy with the bear mask looked at your father.

"It doesnt matter what game it is! I trust my gut" your dad answered and tried to reason with the other VIPS.

---

After some time the frontman shows everyone the next game.

"It looks like a bridge of some sort?" One of the guys spoke out

"What the fuck is that!" The one with the tiger mask mumbled.

"Gentlemen! This might be the deciding moment" the guy with the lion mask called out and pointed at the screen before everyone, the players were meant to pick a vest between the numbers 1 through 16. Your father nodded and agreed with the guy with the lion mask.

"Might be the order they choose thats important" he tried correcting the other VIP

You rolled your eyes as their annoying voices rose. It was the worst thing ever! You have no intertainment other then the fact people are about to die

"When is the game starting?" You questioned, loud enough for the frontman to hear.

"After the 12 minutes of deciding are over" the frontman answered you. He stood firmly ontop of some black thing with a desk of some buttons.

"Who are you betting on this time?" The man with the deer mask asked the other VIP with the tiger mask.

The man thought for a moment and looked at his cigar before answering

"Ninety-six! Cause if i cant do sixty-nine! Ill try ninety six" he shrugged causing the other VIPS to laugh at him

"Good luck with that!"

"How do you know this guy!"

"I didnt bring him i thought you brought him!"

"Oh geez youll kill me!"

The mens laughter filled the room, they all clapped and hollered at the mans response. 'What a dog! Disgusting pervet! This really is a punishment, maybe the worst ones ever!' You thought

You watched people take vest with numbers on it.

"They always take the middle numbers first" you muttered

"Animal instinct. when are faced with danger they seek refuge in the herd" the man with the lion mask replied.

You looked at the frontman, he was the real show for you. You couldnt see under his madk but you knew it would be a real piece of meat. He was covered head to toe it made you imagine everything about him. How does he look? Does he like to have control in sex? How big is he..?

Your thoughts were quickly turned down when the guy in the tiger mask shouted at the screen

"You fuckwad! Piece of shit" he yelled in anger as the guy he betted on chose to go with the vest number one

"Today just isnt your day!" The guys laughed.

---

You were lost in your own boring world before the man with the tiger mask stood up

"Hey your leaving at the most exciting moment?" The guy with the eagle mask sat up.

"Hey you all have fun. Ill be off for a different kind of fun" You watched as the tiger masked guy takes one of the waiters to another room.

Everyone laughs

"The real 69 huh?" Your father laughs and exhales the smoke from his cigar

"Bon appétit!" One yelled.

You rolled your eyes at the thought, Ew. You feel bad for the waiters having to deal with him.

---

You sat beside your father as he clapped with the other VIPs.

You held the mask up to your face and looked around. This was such a bore! You didnt have your phone, nobody to talk to and alll you heard was your fathers idiotic voice.

"This is so boring" you muttered and shifted in your seat. You father pinched you

"Dont say that. We are guest here" he warned you.

"I think someones on her period!" The VIP with the lion mask laughed.

"You might not be having fun but you know who is" the guy with the beer mask laughed and referred to the VIP who left with the waiter.

"Shut up" you mumbled and glared at them all.

"Cmon all your pretty face needs to do is get laid.. i wont mind having the honors" The guy with the lion mask winked at you and let out a pur

"Disgusting" you muttered and your father defended you "hey! Thats my daughter you know!"

"Yeah im not interested in your old man dick!" You shouted, clearly annoyed

"Yeah maybe not mine but everyone noticed how you've been pratically eye fucking the frontman!" The guy with the lion mask pointed out and everyone except for you laughed at his comment.

"Shut up asswipe!" You rolled your eyes and flipped him off

The man drank his whiskey and laughed

---

After the game ended, everyone went back to their rooms.

You walked into your room and slumped on your bed. You threw the gold cat mask off and tossed it on the floor. The day has been so boring, even worse then when your dad brought you a black Porsche instead of a red one like you asked for.

You stripped off your clothes and went into the warm shower. The water washing away the day. You sighed in relief as you washed your hair and then body.

You noticed the shower head was removable and you picked it up. You shivered slightly as you thought of something.

You lifted your leg slightly and put the shower head on jet and put it near your clit.

You gasped slightly and bit your lip as the water pressure made you squirm.

You imagined it was the frontman playing with you. You imagine he just took you right now and started fucking you. You imagined the way he would throw you on your bed and start pounding into you. The way he would sound when he let out grunts. You imagined if he would choke you and hit you.

You trembled and began to rub your clit. You shook as you had an orgasim. It felt just divine, maybe that guy was right and you just needed to get laid.

---

After you cleaned yourself up and put on a nice clean pair of pajamas, you looked through the small fridge. It had wine and some waters. You hummed a song as you poured yourself a small glass of wine.

You sipped it before there was a knock at your door. You sighed and got up. You opened the door

"What do you want?" You questioned the pink guard and looked him up and down

"Well hello i dont got all day?" You rolled your eyes before he handed you a plate of food "oh" you mumbled and took it. You shut the door and placed the food on your bed.

You uncovered the food and it was some lobster, you pushed the food aside and got up from your bed. You put your slippers on and left your room to find that guard.

"Hello? Pink guy!" You shouted. You walked around for a few seconds

"Pink guy where are you!" You mumbled

"Fucking useless pricks" you spoke before turning around and there was a pink guard behind you

"Oh, triangle guy, you know....your big boss. I would like to have a word with him" you placed your hands on you hips and stood firmly

"Ma'am he-" the guard spoke before you gasped

"Ma'am? Are you calling me old! You know how offense that is! Do you want me to kill you!" You pushed him and scoffed

"Go get me that guy, i dont care and bring him to my room" you walked away and cursed under your breath about him being an idiot.

---

You sat in your room before there was a knock at your door. You got up and quickly ate a mint.

You opened the door and the frontman was there

"My guard told me you requested to see me?" He questioned. You nodded and pulled him into your room and shut the door

"You really need some new guards! They're just plain rude!" You crossed your arms

"Was there a problem?" He cleared his throat and stiffened slightly.

"Sir, do you want a glass of wine?" You smiled and grabbed a glass cup for him. You didnt wait for him to answer and gave him the glass.

He stared at you and you stared back.

"Why dont you take off your mask? Its just us here" you ran a finger on his arm, your skin touching the black cloth he's in

"We do not expose the identitys of anyone in this facility" the frontman protested. You let out a groan, and shook your head

"Cmon, i just want a peak. I wont mention it to anyone" you looked up at him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"And plus...arent we paying you, should be far to get whatever I want." You pointed out and he nods.

He hesitated for a minute but eventually gave in. He didnt want to disappoint the VIPS and if she complained to il-nam, he would be in trouble. He pulled back his hoodie and took his mask off.

You stared at him for a few seconds. He was handsome, quite older but he was breathtaking and He was stunning and smelt like rich cologne.

"That...that is not a face you should keep behind a mask" you confessed and smiled.

"Thank you" he replied and stared down at you, he glanced at the pantie that was on the table, his pants got tighter and the room got hot. You looked down and noticed the buldge forming in his pants.

"Well you must be excited to see me" You crashed your lips into his. You pushed him onto your bed and got on top of him.

He was hesitating alot but he kissed you back so tenderly.

You pulled back but kept him beneath you.

"Why are you hesitating? What you think youre better then me?" You pulled him up by the collar of his shirt.

"No" He shook his head

"Whats your name?" You demanded. "Cmon i dont like to repeat myself!" You shook him slightly

"In-ho" he cleared his voice. You said it a few times to see how nicely it rolled off your tounge

"In-ho... its cute" you pushed his hair out of his face. You kissed his cheek and trapped his legs between yours.

"Whats yours?" He questioned and raised his eyebrow. You told him your name and he nodded

"Pretty" his hands rested on your waist and you kissed him again. You had control most of the time, you unbuttoned the big cloth he had on. He was fit, it was so breathtaking to see. You kissed his neck all the way down to his happy trail. He grunted softly and you made your way back up

"You brat" he sat up

"What did you say?" You furrowed your eyes brows. You were furious! Who is this man to say thay

"You heard me. Your a brat, a naughty girl. And you need a punishment" he pushed you off of him and switched positions. And now he had control.

He began to undress you. Stripping away all your clothing and leaving you soak and naked. He ran to finger on your clit

"What do you think your do-" you tried to protest and yelled but he quickly entered to fingers into you. You gasped and threw you head back. You had masterbated alot but this felt like something different. You gripped the bed sheets and moaned.

"You like that?" He snorted and curled his fingers. You whined and moaned as the sensation coursed throughout your whole body.

You arched you back as he licked your clit and shoved another finger into you. You let out another moan this time louder and more like a cry.

"Beg for it" he smirked and pulled his fingers out. You covered your burning face. You sat up and stared at him

"Well hurry up!" You shouted. He shook his head and smiled. He fixed his hair and licked your juices off his finger.

"I said beg. Maybe i wont punish you" he grabbed a hand full of your hair and pulled it back. You groaned slightly when your hair was pulled.

"Ok..i-im sorry" you spoke. You hated being in such a vulnerable situation. You clenched you jaw but you couldnt deny how turned on this made you. The way it made your clench on air. You were always the one in control its just so new.

"Sorry for what?" He pulled your hair harder

"For being a bad girl"

"And what else?"

You clenched your jaw tightly and he pulled your hair slightly stronger.

"im sorry. For being a brat" you whinced and he let go of your hair with a small push. You rubbed your scalp where he had your hair pulled. Before you could even say anything he was unbuckling his pants and punped his dick into you. It wasnt to big but it average length and was thick and really wide.

You let out a scream as he stretched your tight pussy out.

"Shh" he ran a finger over your lip and shushed you. Your lips parted and he shoved his thumb in your mouth. As he thrusted into you he pulled your bottom lip down with his thumb. You whimpered and moaned as his pace got faster.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and scratched his back. Your toes curled and your back arched as he kept hitting that same spot that made you squirm and tingle.

"You feel so good. Im gonna savor this moment" he grunted and slowed his pace.

"Youll cum when i tell you" he whispered dangerously in your ear. You whimpered and nodded

Your fingers twisted and gripped the bed sheets. This was the best thing youve ever felt. It was exhausting but worth it.

"Please... fuck me harder" you muttered

"What? Say it louder" his hand reached up to your throat and gripped it softly.

You clenched your pussy around his shaft and whimpered in response. You moaned and rubbed your face slightly

"Fuck me harder!" You demanded. Your cheeks were turning red from embarrassment and he nodded. He slammed himself into you, going at it harder.

You gasped as he thrusted himself at a amazing pace. The sounds of flesh slapping against one another filled the room. Along with grunts and moans.

You could hear one of the VIPS from the room beside you bang on the wall and yell shut up.

You whimpered and kissed in-ho

"In-ho... im so.." you whined

"Im so close. I cant take it anymore" you cried out as you felt that familiar knot form into your stomatch. You gripped his hair as you threw your head back and tried to hold your juices in.

He gripped your hips tight, tight enough to leave marks.

He began to suck on your neck, leaving hickeys everywhere for people can know who marked you, Who took you for himself.

With one more thrust he cummed inside you. Your insides filled with his seed.

You whimpered in response and had your orgasim. He nuzzled his head on the crook of your neck as his softening cock stayed inside of you..

"That was...amazing" you muttered but your gut turned as you realized he couldve gotten you pregnant

He nodded in agreement and pulled out of you. Both of your mixed juices spilling out of you.

He grabbed a hankerchief and cleaned himself up and turned to clean you up.

"I got it" you smiled and went into the bathroom. You gulped slightly and then cleaned yourself, making sure nothing was dirty.

After a few minutes, maybe 10? You came back to your room and he was gone. The bedsheets were changed though.

You furrowed your eyebrows before he tapped your back.

"Here" he handed you a plan B and sat you on the bed. You cleared your throat and downed it with some tea he made.

"Thank you, in-ho" you smiled. It was weird being so kind to someone but this man made you feel something, normally men would just leave you after sex maybe give you some money but hes taking care of you. Its weird but you liked it..

---

He made you cuddle with him, he stroked your hair as your head laid on his arm. You played with his hand and realized there wss no ring. You smiled at the though before he kissed your head.

"Go to sleep" he muttered and shifted you slightly. You guys cuddles in your favorite position to sleep and you drifted into your own little world. Your eyes shut and breathing became a pattern.

In-ho pulled away his arm and grabbed his belongings. He left the room and went into his headquarters.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and thought about the situation. He looked at the picture of him and his old wife who passed away and downed his drink.

He had sex with many other girls, to shake away the feeling of missing his wife but you were so different then them. So difficult and bratty. It was such a turn on to put you into your place.

Most girls obey him straight away but you had some fire, some spark.

He didn't know it and you didnt either but now you guys belonged to eachother.

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