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glaciertea · 5 months ago

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A Night to Prove All

A Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader one-shot

[Thank you @oharaslove for being my beta reader for this~]

Word count: 6K

Content warning: 18+, Pwp, PinV, protected sex, cunnilingus (F receiving), use of alcohol (nothing too wild), Miguel is downbad~

Summary: Miguel has been watching you across the way. He's curious about you.

He wants to know more about you.

He wants to show that a certain act will lead to something more.

He couldn't help but take notice of you.

He couldn't help but notice the guys who sat next to you, testing the waters. Your waters. Was it scalding hot? Or was it arctic cold?

He played a little game in his head whenever a guy would remove himself from the bar stool next to you. Depending on their reaction, he could take a guess at the temperature they decided to dip their toe in.

That's a sneer. Hot.

He appears as if he's about to cry. Cold.

He's whispering something to you. Did he get through?

Nope, a pure look of disgust. The water was too cold, so he believed the immediate burning water would warm it up. Balance it out. But he didn't give it time to allow it to properly reach that poise, to let it fill up and mix in.

You radiated a mesmerizing energy. Perched up in the middle of the bar are your long-sleeved blouse, comfy dress pants, and heels. Two inches, to be exact.

You were stirring your second daiquiri of the night. The classic strawberry. You were very to yourself, minus the ones who would interfere and place themselves in your bubble without your clear, full-on permission. There was maybe one or two out of the possible five candidates who had the decency to pose the question “Is this seat taken?” before you gave a bowed head. And when you did nod, you looked hesitant but allowed it.

“What is it?” Miguel muttered to himself, swirling his whiskey. He was on his third one for the night, but with his powers, he could definitely handle twice as much. Taking a sip—that's when the right word dropped in his lap.

Class.

That's what you were exuding. When you denied the offers, you did it with grace and a sense of politeness. There was one where you did have to give a vexing eye. Miguel had the urge to make his way to get the dude off your back, but the bartender came to your rescue before he could really settle on his final answer.

This wasn't the original plan. He wanted a night out away from the other spiders, as today's mission was a pain and a half. Well, hell. It was full hell... and a half.

Three anomalies in one world. Nine different spiders in three sets of three went after each one; he needed to relax badly. It was successful, as they usually are, but even he had his limits.

This was out of his nature, but a few drinks were what he salvaged after. Even he knew when he needed time away from it all.

But spotting a beautiful person across the way wasn't on the agenda.

Would he dare try? Would he try and be potentially hot or cold, number six? He could handle rejection; he's a grown man. He was taught that ‘no means no,’ and there could be no explanation needed, no matter how curious he was. Simple and straightforward.

He's used to being by himself in his own space. In the rare moments he is out like this, a few will wonder up to him and take their shot. It was also a rare moment for him to indulge in a one-night stand. So the ones who would get shooed away by him made him curious if he'd understand what it's like to be on the other end.

Scooting out of the booth, he began to stroll in your direction. You weren't paying any attention to your surroundings; you were lost in your head, it seems. Earlier, he took note of your observing eyes, but you possibly needed a moment to recharge after the line of men wanting to pucker up to you.

Miguel stopped a foot from you. He didn't think this approach all the way through. Does he ask if this seat is taken like the others? You could've glanced at him, so there's a chance that you knew that he knew that this seat was indeed not taken. He didn't want to tap on your shoulder; that would definitely come off as rude.

Does he take the seat? Or does he go down one and work his way to that one?

He really should've had a plan from the start. This isn't like him.

“Yes?”

A voice snapped him out of his trance. He turned to the bar before peering down at you.

You are beautiful.

He already knew, but it's different when you're able to view a sparkling gem up close. His mouth was dry, and words and word structures seemed to fail him at the moment. He didn't want to open his mouth, or the next few sentences would be a very bad Porky Pig stuttering impression.

You raised a brow, waiting for a response. The guy in front was very handsome and muscular that it seemed comical. You did see him in the corner when you walked in, very much to himself. You can’t lie and say that you weren’t intrigued, yet you didn’t have the ambition to go up to him, so you found yourself once more on your own.

Bars are your rare amenities. A place where many frequent for a good (or bad, depending on the party) night, whether it be an outing with friends, a casual hook-up, or getting away from it all. And that’s what you’re for. You desperately had to get away from work life and the tedious night classes because, Lord knows, waking up super early to learn was no longer in your schedule. You refused to go back to those days of being up before the crack of dawn to a bunch of teens and teachers who didn’t want to be there just as much as the next.

A drink or two, chill music, then straight back home—that’s the usual run with these excursions. No one night stands, no making friends was off the table as you found it difficult to think of conversations and will freeze up; it was merely you, your thoughts, and the bartender when he came to check up on you.

It was a plan, but it was a shame that others didn’t pick up on that memo.

You found yourself attractive—nothing too crazy like a runway model, but also not ‘bad looking,’ even though looks are preferences. Average. That was your humble word whenever someone asked how you would describe yourself appearance-wise. But tonight wasn’t the case. Tonight you were a ten out of ten and then some with the many approaches of gentlemen either wanting to get in your pants or maybe more, but the universe decided to be weird and play some type of cruel joke and went for the first one.

The joke got old very fast.

Now you were onto a new one. Yes, he has a pretty face, intimidatingly handsome, one might say, but his desires could fall under the same categories as the ones from earlier. Though he is more jittery than the rest, even if his neutral facade is trying to cover it.

“Are… Are you okay?”

Coming back to reality, Miguel sputtered out an apology and directed his focus to the many drinks sitting on the shelves. He never considered himself to be a great conversationalist, but he believes he can hold a decent chat when need be, yet suddenly, it's refusing to make its way out of him.

“I know this seat has been taken and then empty a few times before, but may I sit here?”

Biting your inner cheek, a sidelong glance reached him. You eyed the many alcoholic choices and scrolled through your options. This was going to be your last drink of the night anyway, and you paid in advance, so you could get up and leave if he started to hassle you.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Miguel wasn't relieved by the answer, but it was a step on a path. Taking the stool, you were fixed on his size. He was so humongous that you wanted to ask a question about whether he always takes up this much space but refrained from it.

It was quiet for a few minutes. You were both gaping ahead at everything and everyone, but not at each other. Miguel held this etched demure attitude, terrified to even speak a single word, not wanting to mess up this opportunity. You took a sip from your cup and cleared your throat. This was straining for you both, and it didn't help that your mind was racing with a million inquiries on why he wasn't talking to you. Is he putting on a facade of being nervous, or is this how he is?

“Do you usually come to this bar?” He winced at that very generic question.

You were ready to fling your body out of this building. “No, not really. Rare occasions. What about you?”

“Every once in a blue moon. I don't really care about frequenting bars. They're nice, but to a certain extent.” Miguel got the bartender's attention and ordered another whiskey.

“I agree with that; bars can be pretty good, but you have moments where you run into different sorts of people.” The bartender asked if you wanted something else, but you turned it down, thanking him.

“Yeah, I dealt with some very interesting people in my time. Ojalá me hubieran dejado solo.”

“Care to share any?” Interest peaked, but there was still stiffness.

“Miguel, by the way.”

You were leery, but you dropped your name.

You didn't know how much time exactly, but you were on your third drink and he was on another. You were fascinated by his alcohol tolerance because he was holding up like nothing. The discussions and rabbit holes you fell into were natural—way too natural. Your defenses still kept their guard up, but it was pleasant.

Miguel's clunky motions presented themselves; he didn't want to spook you away. He was sucked into this pulling beam, and he saw no reason to fight it.

“So your co-worker has a habit of bringing his baby to work?” You chuckled while sipping on the daiquiri.

Miguel sighed. “Yes. No matter how many times I tell him not to, he does whatever he feels like. But she is adorable, and I do enjoy her presence.”

“But you'll never admit it?” A boastful assumption, but you got him to laugh.

“You know me too well, it seems.” He eyed his drink. “I would like to get to know you better.”

“What was that?” You hoped he wasn't thinking of a certain activity to impose.

“Nothing.” He scrunched his eyebrows and shook his head. Miguel wondered if he was seriously about to go through with this ridiculous request, but with the way the interaction and banter were going, he didn't want it to end. Not now, maybe even never, and he's usually more guarded with these things, but it'll be worth the shot.

“No. I'm not doing that; I might as well go for it. You are a very attractive woman, and riveting as well. I would like to do something tonight–”

You had to interrupt. “I'm sorry, Miguel. I should've said this from the start, but I wasn't thinking at the time. One-night stands are not my forte. I prefer to see how things will move along and how they'll develop. Bloom into something. I'm sorry again if that is what you were expecting from this.” You should've known this was too good to be true.

Miguel nodded his head. “I understand completely. And I will not push you into that line. You caught my eye earlier; one can say I was enthralled. I wanted to know what you were like. Merely intrigued.”

You blinked a few times. “So you don't want to have sex?”

“I won't lie and say I don't have that in mind, but I wouldn't mind sitting here until closing to continue on with our conversation and leaving with your number if you choose to give it to me.” He reached for his wallet. “I'll find value in that if it means I get to proceed knowing more about you. May I pay for your drink?”

“I can pay for mine; thank you, though.” His words caught you for a loop. He respected your choice and paid for his, not making a fuss. Your brain was battering at the cage that this was a ploy, but something stirring deep inside was whispering that he meant his words.

You caught on to his hook.

“May I make an offer?” Miguel asked.

Your eyebrow slowly rises, caution taking hold of every cell, atom, and molecule of you. “I'm listening.”

He also wanted to know how your body felt against his.

“Tonight, I want you to give me the opportunity to prove that I am meaning all the words I'm saying.”

“You want your actions to speak louder?” You reclined to the back of the bar stool, twisting in it slightly.

“That's what I'm lying down for." It is all up to you, of course. I am willing to simply have a chat with a beautiful woman and then go on about my life.” The whiskey was finished when he settled the glass on the overly dampened napkin. “To leave with a simple number. Or, up to you, we can try something tonight, and I will still want to be there.”

The reflection of yourself in his sunglasses forced you to look at how you were thinking in this moment. You saw the want, the unsure part, and the worry, and Miguel knew it too. He was ready to back away, then you opened your mouth.

“You're clean?”

“Yes, and if you'd like, I can show proof to you.”

You nodded, paid for your drink, and slid off the stool. Miguel followed suit, freaking out himself, but he pushed down any signs of it.

You were going to step into this domain. So much was sprinting inside your brain. You were hesitant. Very hesitant. You did walk to the bar, so he couldn't have access to your license plate, which was a good thing. You think.

Making your way out of the bar, you twisted your head left and right when Miguel stood still, rubbing the back of his head.

“Did you also walk?” You crossed your arms, stepping over to the side to not block the entrance.

“Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't think this would go this way.”

The air was stagnant. The surrusus of winds is breezing around you two, gleaning at the buildings and streets filled with citygoers bustling along with their lives. You weren't going to take him back to your place. Certainly not.

And do you dare go back to his? How far away is his place? Was it close by? It had to be if he also walked. Or maybe he got a cab service and then ventured his way over to this area? You scuttled more away from him by an inch or two. You wanted to be discreet, but he took notice.

“We don't have to do this. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

You went to open your mouth to argue about his offer, but he beat you to it.

“And even if I put the proposition out, I'm sure we both know that it isn't some contract or thing you have to or need to go through.”

You hinged your mouth right back up and peered ahead. Your gut was screaming to let Miguel take you; there is truth behind his words. Yet the logical side agrees with that statement.

This isn't something you have to do; one-night stands can give you a feeling in the moment, but you crave more. Relationships can be scary, but it was something that you did lean on. That sense of security.

Your feet are already in the water, so why not dip in further? “You don't have anyone waiting for you at home?”

He shook his head. “If I did, I certainly wouldn't be here.”

That got a snort out of you. You sized him up, trying to decipher if he was lying to you, but that gaze he was giving made you feel impartial enough to believe him.

“Right. Do we go back to your place?”

“Would you feel at ease going there? And I want to hear your honest answer. No throwing it back at me.”

You had to make the right choice.

Here you are with your back against the wall of a decent hotel room. You still weren't comfortable bringing Miguel back to your apartment, but you were willing to go to a hotel with him. At least it was a public space, so a cleaner could stumble upon your body stuffed lazily under the bed or something.

Miguel did make sure to check in on you, wanting to be completely certain that you were fine with this. You were seeing green flags, but you were always ready to rip off those rose-tinted glasses.

“If you need anything, tell me. I want you to be priority number one.” His tongue trailed down your chin to your collarbone, refusing to take off any clothes without your permission.

“Can we listen to music?”

“Yes, we can.”

He gave you space to slip down, and you hobbled to your phone and searched for a perfect playlist. You did glance at the items that sat perfectly on the small stand by the bed.

Right before this little excursion fell into place, you took a detour to a local store that sold the essential items you needed. You wanted to be better safe than sorry.

A bottle of flavored lube (the store didn't have any unscented ones, of course), morning after pills, and condoms.

The size Miguel picked up almost made you drop everything and deny him access. But that gut feeling was keeping you hostage, and that curiosity was peeking out.

You jumped when your name was called, as Miguel gave a look of concern. “You okay? Remember, we can stop at any point.”

“It's okay, Miguel. Thank you for checking in on me. I'm still up for that request, you know.” After clicking the list, the ambience settled in. “Can you dim the lights, please?”

He searched for the light source and stared at the ceiling, watching the room be shrouded in a soft glow. “You doing okay?”

Your heart and stomach flittered. Half from the nerves and the fact of how caring he was. He was really trying to do his best, but you still needed to examine him.

“Yes, I'm fine. A bit wonky, but I'm ready to continue.”

He made his way back over and sat on the mattress, sinking it down partially. “Remember, whenever you want to stop, tell me.”

You reeled yourself up into a heated kiss. If you wake up to an empty bed in the morning, then it'll all be on you. You really hoped this wasn't some elaborate scheme to get in your pants.

You had to clear your head; you had to focus on what was going on in front of you. It was you and Miguel, and this ‘promised’ future he laid out and presented.

His lips were soft, and his tongue worked endlessly in your mouth. Your moans alone were enough to make him burst, but he had to please you first. He pulled back, scratching the nape of your neck, and took his shirt off. You couldn't help but stare. Holy shit, he was built as a tank and then some.

Miguel followed your dazed eyes down to his chest. He didn't know if that was a good stare or not.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, everything is fine. It's all peachy. I knew you were buff, but behind fabric it looks, well,” you signaled with your hands at his pecs to his abs. “Different.”

“Eres muy linda. Thank you, I think.” He puffed out a laugh.

“It's a compliment.” You hesitated to touch his muscles, but he took a hold of your wrists and placed them on his chest.

“You can touch, hermosa. It's okay.”

You took that permission and stroked every crevice of him.

“Really big.” You both giggled at that and went back for another kiss.

Miguel's pants were tight, but he held off. You took your shirt off with help from Miguel. You removed your bra as well and couldn't help but snort at his absorbed fix.

“I- uh, sorry.”

“No, it's okay. Making it equal.” You took his wrist, gawked at the sheer size of his hands, and placed them on your breasts.

Miguel took the hint and kneaded them, giving peppered kisses wherever he could. He tweaked your nipples, tugging and pinching at them. He dipped down to lap at one, toying with the band of your pants.

You were feeling stuffy and warm in them, ready to get them off. You pushed him off, startling Miguel. He was ready to ask if everything was okay when you ripped the fabric down to your ankles and kicked them away.

“Your turn.” You plopped back on the bed, holding back a smile at the stunned expression.

He stood up, took a few steps back, and unbuttoned his jeans. The relief that crashed when he was free was kept hidden. You gulped at the outline. You thought you were discreet, but the sheepish blush crept on Miguel.

“No, I mean, you're big in all ways; I wasn't expecting that. I was, but not really.”

Miguel craned his neck down. “You're fine.” He strolled up to you and right in between your legs, parting them with his body. “Just say the word, hermosa, and I will back away.”

You needed this. “It's okay. Go ahead and continue, please.”

“Ready?” He tugged at the waistband.

You didn't want to go back. “Yes.”

Lifting your bottom, he slipped them off in one fell swoop. He did it so smoothly, your brain couldn't register it. It did take note of how intensely Miguel was eyeing your pussy. You knew you were wet from the acts and his overall demeanor, but Miguel was eyeballing you like you were some sacred treasure.

You heard him gulp his steady gaze on yours. “May I?”

“Please.” You were ready to explode from that. He has you in his trance.

Miguel had to take his time; he wanted this to be a night you wouldn't forget, so when the time comes to reminisce about this night, you both will maintain this overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

Miguel was already whipped for you.

Kissing and licking your inner thighs, he closed his eyes to listen to your sounds. Nipping the flesh earned him a soft sigh; biting led to a whiny cry; and sucking gave him a needy moan.

He didn't pause until you were covered, or unless you spoke up, he needed to mark you for only you and him to see. He worked his way up to your glossy heat, watching as you clenched.

“Eager, huh?” He placed his lips on the folds, letting some of the delicious juices stick to them.

“You can—ah, yes, I guess you can say that.” You combed through his hair and smiled. Miguel's heart was ready to beat out of his chest. He needed to wake up to that every morning.

You bucked your hips, signaling him to keep going, and he wasn't one to tease you… Yet. Pulling at your folds, he waltzed his tongue along them, probing at the opening before lazily moving up and down along the slit.

Your toes curled, one hand on your breast and the other pushing his head further. You squeaked and mewled. It was like he knew your body; it felt so incredible. You grinded in a steadfast motion, your eyes rolling in the back of your head whenever his nose swiped against your clit.

And that's when you were caught off-guard.

“Aah—mmn!” His tongue suddenly grounded into your velvety walls, clinging on with every sharp thrust of the soft muscle.

The sounds right in your ears, your long heaves, and the whiny calls of his name in his. Red eyes pierced into your soul as he quickened his motions.

“Fuck, Miguel—this feels—mmn! This feels amazing. You're doing so well.” You grabbed onto his curly locks, bucking your hips to have him plunge deeper.

Miguel was one for praise; he pretended to not hone in on his ego, simply brushing it to the side like it didn't exist. But hearing those cute sounds flow out of you made him feel as if he's the greatest creation in the entire multiverse.

Wriggling and exploring your tight, dripping pussy, he made sure to savor every drop of your delectable juices. Your flavor was astral—simply out of this universe.

Slurping up until he reached your clit, he toyed with the sensitive nub, allowing his two fingers to continue giving you the pleasure you desire and deserve.

“Miguel!” The shrill of great ecstasy had him almost come undone right in his boxers.

You hugged his fingers so well, stretching and scissoring for you to be able to take him. He wasn't going to neglect one inch of you; he wasn't going to neglect a single part of you.

“Mm, how are you feeling, hermosa?” He whispered against your stomach, leaving those small butterfly kisses on it, his digits picking up in a brutal place.

“I—ngh—I feel—fuck!” His thumb danced along your stiffened clit, prodding and rolling it, carefully pressing it down.

All he could do was smirk, lay his tongue flat against your nub, and roll it with it. Your back arched, and the stars were in your vision. You wailed his name as Miguel helped you ride out your orgasm, slurping up any juices that dared not fall into his mouth.

“Shit… oh, oh, my God.” Your spent body was light as a feather, like you couldn't move a muscle.

“Was it good for you, hermosa?” He kissed your lips and your cheek a couple of times, staring at your glazed-out expression.

You grinned, licking your mouth and tasting your wetness. “Very. I think I'm ready for you, Miguel.”

“You think or you know, hermosa?”

You gnawed at your lip and whispered. “I know.”

Miguel's stomach did a somersault. Standing up, he was fully free. Stepping out of his boxers, he went for the condoms, popping the package open and pulling out a wrapper. He climbed back into the bed and made sure you were comfortable.

Witnessing him rip off the foil with precision managed to turn you on even more. He slid on the condom as you eyed the long, throbbing penis. You didn't know whether to admire it or be terrified of it as you pursed your lips into a thin line. Miguel's eyes looked into yours, sensing the nervousness emanating from you.

“I'll go slow; I want you to experience nothing but pleasure.”

You nodded at the reassurance, needing him closer to you. Taking a hold of the nape of his neck, you bring him into a yearning kiss. Miguel's arms were on either side of your body, trapping you in, but you loved the heat leaving him.

“Ready, amor?” He nipped at the curve of your neck, wanting to sink his fangs into your delicate skin, but reprimanded himself, scolding himself for that thought.

I- uh…” you gulped.

“Yes?” His breath sent shivers down your back, and the tingling sensation between your thighs coursed from your stomach to your chest.

This man is huge in every single shape and in every possible form. You would like to be on the bottom to feel him rutting into you with every thrust, but his size scared you. And the gaze he was holding wasn't doing your nerves any better.

“Would you like to be on top?”

You scanned the room and nodded your head. With no hesitation, he flipped you both so you were straddling his hips and his back was resting against the headboard. His hands run along your sides, giving your behind a firm squeeze. Your eyes found their ways lost in his. The music gives that intimate ambience, and the dimmed lights show off the right amount of his gorgeous features.

You swore you saw his iris flash red, but you shook it away. Turning back, you took one more glance at him before grinding against the tip. A hissing intake escaped from you, nails digging into his shoulders as a grunt was left between those plump lips of his.

Biting your tongue, you continued on with your slow movements, wanting to at least get the head in, but with his size, it could be a bit difficult. You needed some more help.

“Miguel, I need to...”

Without a second thought, his hand reached for the bedside dresser and grabbed the bottle of lube. Using his thumb to pop off the cap, he held it close to you.

“Palm.” That instructive tone sent those goosebumps running all over you.

Obeying, you shakily move it right in front of him. A decent amount of clear gel squirted out. You blinked a few times, confused, watching Miguel place the bottle back in its original spot. Two of his fingers scooped up a small bit, a dangerous glint of desire and hunger.

“I- Miguel, I don't know what you-”

“Go on. Do what you need to do.” The two fingers glided in between his cock, from the head down to the base.

Creasing your eyebrows, you tried to put this puzzle piece together when it hit you. “This is a lot.”

He smirked, taking more, and went back to pleasing himself. “Still too much?”

Using the rest, you lathered up your digits and maneuvered them right to the entrance. Miguel stared passionately, his hand moving at a leisurely pace, enjoying the private experience. Sticking your fingers in, you felt yourself clenching. A hearty moan works its way out, your slick walls tender with every breach from your own attention.

You've never felt this euphoric when you touched yourself. Maybe it was because you both are helping yourselves out for one another, or it could be the fact that a beautiful man was glaring at you with an intent to rearrange your insides while wanting to show you that there is and will be more to this.

“Whenever you're ready, hermosa.”

“I'm ready for you, Mi- ah–Miguel.” He rubbed some of the transparent substance off of him onto your clit.

Repositioning back over him, you repeated the pattern of nudging yourself down onto him, finding it easier to slide down. A strangled groan trembled out of Miguel, observing the tip disappear in you. Rolling your hips, you clenched on him from your fluttering walls to your arms around his neck. Your eyes blinked rapidly as the tandem rhythm of you and Miguel rocking out of sync held every ounce of ignited need.

Halfway in, your cries and words of sweet nothings echoed in his ears and mind. A ring of your gushing juices formed perfectly on him. The music really did help.

with that intoxicating ache in your burning bodies. You were so glad you recommended it.

A couple of inches more down. You whine out. He mutters swears in Spanish, growling when you finally hit the base of the shaft.

“Yes, yes, hermosa. Estás hecha para esta verga. Estás hecha para mi.”

You felt full. Tears streaming down, your cries breathless, with Miguel taking control of the mindless thrusting. When you go down, he makes sure to drive up in full force. His fingers skimmed across your ignited skin, longing to take in everything.

The wet slaps were delicious. You bounced with every bit of delight, whining out when Miguel chewed and sucked on your nipple, adding to the fervid moment.

“Fuck, Miguel! Your cock fits so perfectly!”

“For me, only for me.” Miguel's vigorous pumps sent you both in a spiral.

Your tight walls were constricted; you were experiencing his ridges and veins, all of him rubbing against you so nicely. Your fingernails leave indents on his beefy shoulders, one or two puncturing the skin. The sweat leaking down and shimmering on his chest and abs made you want to take a picture and hide it from everyone. You wanted this image to be for your eyes only, and the idea of keeping it was floating whimsically in the air.

Your murky fluids covering his, the melding scent of your carnal lust as Miguel picked up the tempo, forced you to throw your arms around his neck to not tumble over. His head is buried in the curve of your neck, biting at the flesh, his fangs threatening to sneak in.

“Tan bueno, tan jodidamente bueno. Te haré mía, hermosa.” Miguel took a fistful of your hair, pulling you into a deep kiss.

You screamed, tongues in a constant battle, his giant hand gripping your waist, surely to leave small bruises in the morning. His balls came into contact with your ass as the furious pounding made the bed shake and groan alongside. The fuse was to explode.

“I'm cumming! Miguel, I'm going to cum!”

“Cum for me; do it, hermosa, cum, cum.”

You shrieked. Shockwaves overtook your very soul as you quivered, and your muscles convulsed around his length.

“Miguel, you make me feel like I'm on cloud nine; you brought me to a new high.” You cooed in his ear.

He was close to his end, holding you tight. Your praises drove him insane; he repeated your name over and over until he finally washed over, moaning your name like you were a goddess from above.

Your head fell to his chest, loving the heaving and hearing his heartbeat slow its erratic pace. He began to soften, but he wanted the feeling of you to not disappear.

“So.”

“So.” You huffed out with a giggle.

“Did the offer leave the table? Did I give my worth?”

Digging your chin into his chest, your eyes darted side to side, pretending to search for an answer.

“Well, I suggest you better be here in the morning to get my response.”

You both smiled and snuggled up to each other, cooling down and enjoying the endlessly loving tunes.

•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Miguel stepped inside his place, closing the door quietly, and leaned against it. Every inch of his body was aching and exhausted after this tumultuous day. Disengaging his suit, a hefty exhale puffed out when he got a waft of different spices blending right in his nose. An aroma that can't be beat.

Slugging further in, he eyed the beauty in his big shirt, swaying to nothing in particular. He will always be enraptured by you.

“You look like you need a long shower.” You eyeballed him from your peripheral view.

“That and something more.”

“And what might that be?” You were fully facing him, arms folded, a tiny smirk twitching its way on your face. “Because if it's dessert, then that's going to have to wait a while.” You didn't hold back on a cheese-eating grin.

“Then how about an offer?”

His stoic face didn't match that slyness to his voice, but you were ready to hear what he had to ‘offer.’

“Alright, I'm listening.” You loosen your arms, propping your elbows up on the counter.

The starvation in his eyes spoke for itself, but you wanted to hear them out loud. Eyes never leave, rapt by each other. Miguel stepped closer and closer, stopping right in front of you and letting his knuckle caress your cheek to your chin before grasping it and tilting your head back.

“I'll shower, but I want it alongside my dessert.” He was right next to your ear. “And I promise it won't ruin my appetite.”

“Well… I'll be willing to give that a chance on one condition.” You tip-toed up his chest with your fingers.

“And what's that?”

“You say I love you.”

There was a mischievous hint in his eyes. “Te amo, hermosa.”

#Spotify #miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel x fem!reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #oneshot

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xerotiny99 · 6 months ago

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The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our Precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day. (Our precious #6)

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Pairing: main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning (for all parts): smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags. Not proofread.

Gist: it's the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your so called "boyfriends".

Total Word Count: n/a

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13 @solisyeah

[a/n:] thank you so much for 190+ followers. really appreciate it.

Part Two [6.2]: Down on My Knees - Kang Yeosang x Reader

Warning: master/slave dynamic, slave!reader, master!yeosang, wax play, use of Ben wa balls/kegel balls, use of ropes, rope bondage (hojojutsu tie), deep-throat/throat fucking/blowjob, cunnilingus, etc.

Song rec: Drip by Black Atlass

Gist: Yeosang gives you a glimpse of his eccentric kink. Let’s say, he’s one intimidating man behind all the innocent facade he puts on.

Word Count: 11,122

How did you end up in this position? Kneeling in front of him, arms bound with a thick rope and held behind your back, and the seemingly innocent ruse he paints on; in his make-believe world, you're supposed to be looked down upon, and he's supposed to have the higher ground to assert his dominance. He wasn't fooling anyone with his charming demeanor, and you indeed hadn't been fooled by his undisturbed personification. Who knew, Yeosang would be one of the wild ones, the kind who are quiet and gentle, who speak less and listen to others talk, the ones who make their opponent believe they know everything about them when in reality they know nothing about them.

The two of you were trapped in a trance of silence, both taking up the empty space adjacent to the bed. A little further into his room, you and Yeosang were both busy with your own things; he eyed you like a predator would eye his prey, and somehow, it seemed to arouse your worst tendencies. A strain in your forearm aches against your posture, making you curl your back into your stomach, and the hemp rope bites into your skin, creating irritated scratches; Yeosang's tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth the moment he hears you whimper. You hold onto a breath of yours, until it's forcing its way out to blend in with the dense air of this room. The dread follows you, lurking in your mind; you could sketch out a rough outline of Yeosang's mind, of his needs. He needs control. He likes it a little too much. Which would explain why you were kneeling in front of him, with your arms shackled in some rope to restrict any movement of your body.

"Did I tell you to stop?" he growls, sighing a minute later, "from the top, again."

You groan, voicing your frustration, "I promise, I'll be good next time. Just let me continue. We've been over this for the longest time, I'm tired."

"Rules are rules, kitten." He rasps, lowering his voice down a baritone, "now, from the start. As I said before."

Exasperated, you straighten up and stare up at him. There he sat on a metal chair, hungry eyes trained on every movement of your body. He sits poised and stoic, putting most of his weight to the side as his elbow which rests on knee. His legs are crossed over one another, and he subtly keeps brushing his fingers under his chin as if he were to be in some deep ponder about life. For a man to be this ethereal, was a crime. And you wouldn't base your judgment on the fact that he was a man, but rather on how meagre his efforts were to delineate his grace. How can a man wearing a simple tank top and jogger shorts, appear this elegant?

Yeosang's lips curve into a silken smirk, almost like a trace of smugness caressing his face before stranding his mien with an unbearable hint of thirst. His soft brown eyes yearn for a taste, for a quick nibble of your bare chest which was on a hankering display. When his silence murmurs louder in your ear, you take a deep breath and scatter your attention across the floor; there laid sheets of black print, words etched in a continuum. Back to the first page, to the very beginning. You had read through the first page ten minutes before. There goes your ten minutes of hard work and patience.

This was a tortuous nightmare which seems to be never ending, a situation having you kept astray in a void of fear and anticipation, tickling every being of your flesh and bones. It doesn't matter how dedicated you are to him, he will find a way for you to lose, for you to give in to your ailing state of mind. So far, he had succeeded in making you feel small, belittled your presence.

Time stands still in this room; all air is knocked from your lungs when proceed to enunciate the first few words on the first page.

"We the undersigned parties, recognise and accept the submission of Moon Angel, hereafter called the 'slave' to Kang Yeosang, hereafter referred to as the 'Master', in a relationship of," you trail away, almost losing your voice, "relationship of voluntary servitude hereafter called 'slavery'."

In this blighted state of affairs, you're in a constant dilemma, whether you should've read and signed the contract beforehand, or not. To your better understanding, it would have been hundred times better if you had just taken out the time to read and sign the contract before. All this humiliation would've been avoided.

"Go on," Yeosang nudges you with a husky undertone laced to his words, "we've got a lot to deal with here, kitten."

Shaking your head, you swallow thickly to wet your sore throat before continuing, "by this instrument, Master agrees to direct, train and dominate, the Slave for Master's pleasure and benefit."

Why were you aroused by this? You'd hate to admit it, but you were soaking wet from reading this so-called contract, by picturing the words jumble up on a pretty risqué imagery in your mind. In an attempt to alleviate the strain in between your thighs, you squeeze them, quite tightly for your cunt to rub against your flesh. Yeosang doesn't let your venture go unnoticed by him; rather, his lips lilt into a haughty smirk, playing the descant game of tease in his head.

Regardless, you press your lips together and mumble, "the slave's tenure will begin on the day of signing this agreement and end on the last day of the twelfth month after the day of signing. A review will take place every three months."

"Do you have any doubts till now? Perhaps, some questions which have been troubling your mind?" he asks, relaxing back into the chair and spreading his legs wide.

"Not really." You respond; however you couldn't resist peeking at his cock when he spread out his legs like that.

You catch the glimpse of his erection protruding through the flimsy material of his shorts; gauging by the outline, you could tell he had an impressive size. Which doesn't really seem to be one of your biggest concerns at the moment. You should be instead, worried about what the future holds for you. It was easy to shrug off every possible leeriness you faced, up until he had asked you to fetch the contract from your room and meet him in his own.

Things went south. Quite quickly. Everything was a blur of moment, seconds dragging to something lesser than them, seizing to nothingness as time paralleled to nix. You entered his room, the dimly lit abyss of ambiguity and confusion; a queen-sized bed in the centre, draped in red silk sheets, and the curtains to the window stayed drawn together to filter out any natural light seeping in. His room was dark, and devoid of any unnecessary things. Even more peculiar, his room did not allow any sounds from the outside to saunter in and vice versa.

The entire aesthetic of his room was an enigma, an elaborate conundrum which would put anyone in a bewildering position. A desk remained shrouded in the dark by a corner, and two separate closets were bound to a side of the wall; one of them was locked with a silver padlock, and it also harboured quite a few intricate pieces of cravings in the wood. The other closet was basic, laminated with a much basic plywood. There was a door situated to the left side of the bed, presumably the bathroom, and to the right of the bed, was where the closets, and desk were located.

After spending the first few hours of the morning with Seonghwa, you were dragged by Yeosang to his room; on the way to his room, by the stairs, you came across Wooyoung who had then groggily greeted you before turning a side eye toward Yeosang. That, somehow, itched Yeosang in a wrong way and awoken something feral in him. He wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you with him, not caring if you fumbled in your steps or were even capable of keeping up with his pace. First, he pushed you in your room, asked you (in a growl) to get the contract he had given to you and then he dragged you into his room. When the locks behind you clicked, your heart dropped to your gut.

Yeosang's sheer strength was enough to turn you on, enough for your cunt to start dripping at the thought of the other things he was capable of doing to you. He could easily manhandle you, throw you around like a puppet and bend you to his words. Inspecting your body then, he walked around you in circles, until he got too riled up to contain himself. He had ripped your shirt off your body, technically speaking, Jongho's shirt, and now it laid strewn on the floor in tattered pieces.

Many more things unfolded after that, he asked you sink down on your knees, he got himself a red-coloured hemp rope to tie your arms behind your back, and then he dragged a spare chair over in front of you and slid himself onto it. He sprawled the contract papers on the floor, for you to read through them, loud and clear.

And so here you are. In a probable dehumanising position.

"Your restraints aren't too tight, are they?"

"No..." your lips quiver, arms struggling in the hold.

They weren't tight or as uncomfortable as you thought they'd be; though, the rope was biting into your skin and chafing it every time you moved only as to little. You were quite astounded by Yeosang's preferences, and how he dabbled in the art of Japanese bondage called shibari. There's something about him you couldn't place your finger on yet. Regardless, the moment he started looping the rope around your arms and your back, you were crumpled down to pieces.

To Yeosang's eyes, you were a treat. He pities you for not being able to see how luscious you looked with the red ties scattered on your back, and around your chest; the rope did in fact loop around your forearms and crossed at the back, it formed an intricate pattern of a star with how it was tied. And in the front, it ran parallel to your chest, the rope running under and over your tits. Nothing could've stopped him from drooling at the sight of you; you on your knees, half naked and body shuddering ever so lightly every time he glared at you.

"The slave must reveal all appropriate thoughts, feelings and desires relating to servitude without hesitation or embarrassment," he states, clear and firm, "I'm going to ask you again. Are your restraints uncomfortable?"

"No," you reply, confidently.

"As a slave, what must you refer to me as?" he poses another question, still sounding resolute somehow.

"Master."

"That's my girl," he praises you, a smile breaking out on his face before he leans over to whisper, "I did not tell you to stop reading. Please, carry on. My patience is running out."

You take a breath of relief, knowing he hadn't tormented half of your being by forcing you to read everything from the start. But you were also transfixed by his words, by his presence. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you clear your head and proceed to read further on.

"This voluntary servitude may be renewed at the Master's discretion with the slave's consent." you take another breath in, and continue, "It is agreed that this period of slavery will be under the Master's direction and control and will be subject to the following conditions."

Yeosang hums along with you, "let us keep those conditions to ourselves. Why don't you read them in your mind and let me know if you have any concerns regarding them."

You take his suggestion well, spanning your eyes across the printed letters and comprehending them in your mind. As the time passes, the restraints start tugging you down; it was overbearing to hold the straight posture for all this time. Your arms had started to ache as well, going sore from having no freedom to move them around. However, you still held it in, held on the very little of your patience and dedication to get through this.

Reading the conditions, you could tell he curated his preferences perfectly on the paper. The conditions stated were beneficial to both parties; most importantly, they took the slave's gratification into consideration.

"Is everything understood so far?" he murmurs, peeking at you.

You raise your head and nod, "yeah. I think I got the gist of it."

Yeosang hums again, but his jaw clenches slightly and your gut knots itself, "I meant, yes master."

He smirks, "good. You're getting the hang of it." Tracing his thumb under his lower lip, he pulls himself off the chair and takes a few steps closer to you. He crouches down, his aura buzzing around with a certain heaviness, "I want to punish you for not obeying me. I had asked you way well in advance to read through this contract, hadn't I?"

"I'm—I'm sorry, I know should've done it—"

"—don't waste your energy on apologies, kitten. The time's gone."

His fingers pinch your chin and tilt your head further up, forcing you to meet his eyes; the dark, sullen, dour eyes of his show no emotions, not until a spark of lust and carnality breaks out. You gulp, audibly, squirming your thighs together to ease the tension between them. Beyond hope, you knew you had soaked through your shorts, you were sure Seonghwa's cum had slicked out all the way through along with your own arousal.

Dense air in the room leaves you to suffocate on your spit, while his lips caress the tip of your nose and drag along your cupid's bow. He presses a soft kiss against your lips, mumbling them in a haze of sheer want and need. When he pulls back, he adorns a scornful smile on his face, tugging his cheeks softly into his eyes.

"Get on your feet for me." He drags his words to a whisper, "now."

The authoritative tone flips a switch in you, turning your rationality off and switching on your submissive mind. He straightens up and takes a step back, watching your helpless-self struggle to get on your feet. You stumble while trying to bring yourself up from your knees, and the way your arms were shackled behind you, it seemed almost impossible.

Yeosang extended no hand for help, he quite enjoyed the show you had put on for him; a belittling chuckle is trapped in his chest, while his arms are folded over. He waits a beat, for a second to cross the threshold of your clumsiness before he leaps in and helps you up; there it was, his warm hands bracing against your waist, pulling you up on your feet and stabling your wobbly stature.

"Come here," he holds one of your arms and guides you to the chair; the contract sheets lay untouched on the floor, starting to flutter to the winds brought in by the ceiling fan. "Stay still, hmm?" he murmurs from behind you, his warmth painting an untamed desire on your back.

You nod, whispering, "okay."

Before you could voice your other concerns, his presence dithers away. Listening to some shuffles around in the room, you turn your head to find him unlocking the closet which had intrigued you before, the same closet with a silver padlock and intricate carvings on its wooden panels. The doors creak softly at the hinges when he opens them. Amid the pointless dark and silence, you observe him, noticing a soft glint of something metallic in his hands. You were unaware of what he had retrieved from the closet; bewildered, you continue to stare at him as he grabs a couple more pieces from the closet. Stricken by a haze of wonder and despair, you whimper under your breath. Tremors brush your skin, trickling your flesh with an ecstatic desire.

You press your lips together, preventing your needy groans from slipping past your lips; his footsteps ascend to you, while an object rattling in his hand. He stands in front of you now, fixing himself behind the chair to dump the things he was holding in his hands. As he is steadying himself back, you catch a glimpse of his smirk fleeting on his plump lips. When he straightens himself, you notice the objects spread on the chair.

A candle. A pair of what seems like, silver balls, alongside a small capsule-shaped button or something. And a silver plated lighter having a butterfly engraved on it.

A quick flick of lighter turns the flame on, he proceeds to light the candle; the wick burns with vigour, providing to the subtle morning light which had already begun to fade in from the window regardless of the curtains being drawn together. He sets the lit candle on the small desk, located next to his bed, right behind him. You must've failed to notice this one before, not that it matters now because you're too fixated on him, on his actions and what he tends to do with you.

"Ever seen this?" he muses, picking up the silver balls in his fingers.

Letting them dangle from his forefinger, he shows it off to you. It was your first time coming across them. The two marble sized balls were a half an inch apart from each other connected with a fine chain link; they appeared small and delicate.

"No," you mumble, "what are those?"

"Rin-no-tama," he pronounces it in a perfect harmony, and shrugs, staring down at the shimmering spheres hanging from his finger, "or orgasm balls." His eyes meet yours, "don't worry, they only create subtle stimulation. It's more of a teasing device than anything intense."

He strings out his words so casually, lips quivering with a vague smile. Taking a long stride around the chair, he comes to stand behind you; the balls clatter gently against his hand when he holds them by the long tail of chain adhered to the one of them. Your mind is a complete mush at this point, overridden with enthusiasm and anticipation. One of Yeosang's arms comes to tangle around your waist, while the other sneaks up your back and comes into your view. Right in front of your face, he holds the two orbs, their chrome shade alluring and intriguing.

"Open up," he whispers, nudging the balls closer to your lips, and pushing them till you're willingly opening your mouth. "Good kitten."

You moan at the praise; however, it's muffled by the tiny little spheres in your mouth; he continues to push them, trying to settle them deeper, and as he does, the tip of his fingers too sink in your hot and wet mouth.

"Cover them up nice and warm," he suggests, "they'll be going inside you."

Another desperate groan tempts to slip past your lips, but you bite down on it and continue to suck on the balls in your mouth. Yeosang's fingers plunged a little deeper than before, forcing the orbs further down your throat; he hums in satisfaction once he thinks it's enough. Offering a subtle tug on the chain he held onto, he pulls the orbs out and lets them dangle in front of you. They're slick with your spit; a thin layer coats their surface and translucent saliva strings adhere to them in a perfect curve. You squeeze your thighs together, melting at the thought of him stuffing those balls inside you.

"You get really eager, don't you?" Yeosang teases, slipping his hand from your waist to in between your legs; he slaps your thighs apart, and then proceeds to tug on your shorts. "Since it's our first time, I will keep it...easy for you."

As the last bits of his words dither in your mind, you had failed to notice how in one swift motion he had torn your shorts off of your waist. First the shirt, and now your shorts. Both laid littered in pieces on the floor.

"What do you mean—nghhhh!" your voice clamours to a moan, a sudden gelid sensation urging you to close your eyes and revel in it.

"Oh, you know," Yeosang grins, "take things slow with you." He bites down on his lower lip, addressing to you in a mumble, "relax for me, will you. Deep breaths."

Listening to him, you take a deep breath in, your anticipation pulsating past its limit. A second ticks, and he nudges one of the spheres against your folds, eventually dragging them along your slit to slip it in your cum-filled hole; the first orb stretches only so much, burning the pit of your stomach in a momentary heat. He tugs further on the dainty chain holding both of the spheres to have them fit snug in you. The warmth of his fingertips disrupts the peace in your heart; nifty tremors spread across your spine when he pushes two of his fingers in, delving them deep and gently pressing the balls further inside. If you could be honest, the cold sensation of the balls and the drifting warmth of his finger was wrecking your mind, giving you the sensory stimulus you needed so bad.

"Fuck—it's cold," you moan, rolling your hips down on his hand to let his fingers plunge further.

He clicks his tongue, immediately pulling his fingers out and offering one of your asscheeks a light squeeze. "You're not supposed to enjoy your punishment, kitten."

"I'm—I'm not," you stutter, knowing well you were lying to him.

"Really?" he emphasises, groping both of your asscheeks and spreading them apart, "the way you were grinding down on my fingers, it said otherwise."

"I just—I need something more to—need something more to feel..." you trail off, going speechless for the moment when the heaviness of the balls settles in your cunt.

"No, kitten," he slurs, "you don't need anything more."

Yeosang glances at his fingers, coated with your juices and Seonghwa's cum from before; he honestly has no problem with it, and speaking in all fairness, he's used to this kind of plight. Watching the translucent fluid coat his fingers, he lets his lips curve to a conceited smile before bringing his hand in front of your face. His other hand stays tangled with your waist.

He clicks his tongue and prompts you, "lick these off. It's yours and Seonghwa's...afters."

Eager, you open your mouth and let him stick his fingers in; a familiar salty and bitter taste coats your tongue, with tender underlying tones of sweet. Enjoying the warmth and the sloppy confines of your mouth, he thrusts his fingers in till he's knuckles deep. You lap your tongue along his fingers, nonetheless, sucking them clean. Offering a few kitten licks to you his rough fingers, you muffle a whine when he pulls them out with a vile 'pop' sound reverberating around you two.

"Such a good kitten," he muses, "cleaned my fingers with her tongue. She deserves a treat, she really does."

His absence leaves your back, which alerts you and prompts you to straighten up slightly. And with that subtle movement of your waist and your back, your walls to clench around the metal orbs. A curt whiplash of arousal crawls up your spine, making you hiss at the furor which spreads across your body, rather quite instantly. Yeosang's face comes into your view; a face worth admiring, a face you could never get tired off. His eyes nurture a sense of slumber, and his plump lips are seemingly too kissable to deny the urge. The gorgeous man in front of you, standing right behind the chair, which was stuck between you two, had dubious intentions inscribed in the brown specks of his eyes.

Leaning in close to you, he cups your face with both his hands and nudges the tip of his nose along yours; he traces it down to your lips, only for a hot second before ghosting his own on yours. In the next minute, his tongue darts out and swipes under your lower lip. A smile fleets on his face, his eyes glimmering with an untamed desire. The grasp of his hands surrounding your face tightens, holding your face in one place as he abates the distance between your lips. A brush. A delicate brush of his lips wanes you to a complete silence, and it soon blooms in your chest, slipping out of in you in the form on a whimper. Yeosang's lips start lapping up with yours, dwelling into a heated kiss which starts mellowing out every sane thought in your mind.

For the time being, struck with his lips and his hands, you forgot your hands were tied behind your back, you forgot about the rope nicking your skin and leaving red marks behind; you were immersed in the way his lips moved with yours, how he softly grumbled when you tilted your head and deepened the kiss. Breathless, you kept it going, you kept your lips on his while his tongue prodded past them. Yeosang pushes his thumb pads into your cheeks, forcing you to heave a gasp and allowing him to push his tongue in. The slickness of his tongue wraps around yours, tackling it in the further warmth of your mouth.

He moans, sounding it from his chest when you start sucking on his tongue. You push his sloppy muscle out of the way and shove yours down his throat. In the despair of your body, you're slithering beyond to caress the tip of your tongue against his uvula. When his gag reflex kicks in, he groans and pulls your face away from his.

Out of breath and panting softly, he smirks, "my kitten is so desperate." He pushes himself back, continuing in a mere whisper, "come on, we've still got five pages to read over."

Tugging you to the place where you were kneeling before, he forces you to get down; without much hesitation, you oblige to his demand and sink on your knees, the stray sheets of paper kissing your bare skin. The metallic spheres which were sheathed deep in your cunt, fidget with your walls and stroke your arousal. You gasp when the balls plunge in the steepest part, only for the time you were adjusting yourself on your knees.

Yeosang grins to himself, watching you squirm and struggle to keep your spine upright. Hunching over, you fail to notice him extending his hand to wind it around your throat; with a simple and steady jerk, he forces you to meet his eye, his lips encasing one of the most impish smirks ever. His fingers dig deep into your skin, denting it with his mere strength and painting it with little crescents of his nails. The more you stare at him, the tighter his grip becomes around your throat. You choke on your spit, mouth falling agape to the torrid desire of breathing. In all seriousness, his fingers and thumb were pressing against the right places on your throat.

"Eyes on me," he growls, "when you're with me, I want your eyes on me. At all times. Exceptions would be—" he trails off, "—when you're blindfolded, or in any position which makes it uncomfortable for you to look at me." Letting silence speak louder, he bites his lower lip and waits for you to answer. And upon getting none, he snickers, "what do we say, kitten?"

You couldn't really get your words out, not when his hand continued to clasp around your throat, tightening every second and causing your walls to convulse into each other. The worst part, however, was when you writhed to the enthusiasm of getting choked; every time your body shuddered against the floor, the balls inside you built your arousal to its brim.

Regardless of your throat turning dry, you croak, "yes master."

"That's what I like to hear," a smirk splays on his lips, while he loosens his grip on your throat. A sudden wave of concern washes over his tone, "you should let me know if I'm crossing any limits, Angel."

You shake your head, coughing, "it's—I'm fine—I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure?" he asks, a smile wavering on his face before it is replaced with a straight line, "next time we meet, we'll be setting our boundaries. You need to tell me what you're uncomfortable with and what you're okay with. Got it?"

Nodding your head, you weakly string out, "yes, master."

Yeosang seems satisfied with your answer and pulls himself back on his feet, letting go of your throat; he towers over your slouched shoulders, arms folded over his chest as he coaxes you with an encouraging jab of his head.

"Continue. From where we left off."

His footsteps descend down the meagre dark beside his bed; he grabs the candle from the desk adjoining it and carries himself back to you. For a minute, in your state of bemusement, you gawk at his veiny hand which wraps so delicately around the candle. And later when the minute of confusion passes you like a dream, you come to terms with what he has planned for you. Yeosang's lips curve slightly with every step he takes toward you, his eyes glinting with mischief and lust.

"I can't hear you, kitten." He teases, "I'm assuming you've had hefty breakfast in the morning. Gonna need you speak a little louder, kitten."

You shift on your legs, sitting with a comfortable posture, distributing your weight equally on your calves before his words lash on you and make you squirm, causing the balls to twist and turn around in your cunt. The budding tension in the pit of your stomach is too much to contain; if only there was something more to unravel you. Biting on a moan, you nod your head vigorously and swallow some of your spit down to wet your dry throat.

"The slave hands her," you read the next page in line, eyes tearing up gradually from the pleasurable ache pounding at the walls of your cunt, "the slave hands her training over to her Master."

"Hmm," Yeosang hums and displaces himself behind you, "go on."

You're too focused on the reading to notice anything out of order. "The Master may give his slave 'free periods', be it in the Master's presence, where the slave—the slave may express herself openly and freely."

"That's right," he hums, his presence warming up to your back when he leans over slightly, "hmm, carry on."

Heaving in a deep breath, till it convulses your lungs into each other, you proceed, "there will be no punishments applied during these free periods. However, it is understood that the slave will continue to address her master with respect—ah fuck you."

A hot sizzle crawls down your back, trickling further and farther on your skin; the hot sensation traces a mere inch, and it dissipates to a steady streak of coldness. Muffling a whimper, you give yourself a little time to comprehend what had happened.

Candle. Wax. Hot wax. Hot wax on your skin.

You draw your shoulders in, and then roll them out, focusing on reading. As if you could really concentrate on the task at hand, when he is fixated on pouring the melted wax on your flesh. The burn of the candle grows intense on the crook of your neck, while his other hand lingers up and down your spine, dipping down the curve and then pulling back up.

Yeosang clicks his tongue, "you know the rules, kitten. From the top. Again."

You despised hearing those words, those exact words which caused you so much torment and frustration; if you could, you would pick yourself up the floor and leave, but sadly the contract states the otherwise. The contract states a lot of things, all of the phrases are now ingrained in your brain. Of course they would be, you've read them countless times. Even so, with all that you've read and spent your time reading, you hadn't gotten to the end of it yet.

"Please," you whine, "you caught me off guard." Squirming on your feet, your knees itch with an urge to unfold yourself from your position. Though even when the thought of you doing that crosses your mind, the balls in your cunt move, and wreck your body with the soaring pleasure. "Let me read, let me continue. I can't go back and read it all over again. I'm tired."

Yeosang sucks on his teeth, "fine. Let's put a stop to this. Don't worry about the reading for now, just relax yourself and take deep breaths whenever I tell you to."

From the back, he pushes the contract papers aside and they scatter further away on the floor. You're steep in anticipation, partaking in the little games he was playing with you. And to your surprise, he loops one of his arms around your waist and pushes his chest into your back. His other hand, holding onto the candle, comes in your view for a meagre second before it drifts down your chest. Peeking over your shoulder, he directs the candle towards your collarbones, right by the centre. As the wax on it melts, a few drops trickle and trail between your tits; you hiss at the burn, throwing your head back onto his shoulder and closing your eyes shut.

"Does it hurt that bad?" he chuckles, "you're such a pathetic liar, kitten. I know my way around this, the wax isn't even that hot, is it...?"

You press your lips together and nod, whimpering, "but it—but it scares me to not know where and when you'd..."

As you trail off, he chimes in, "when I would drip hot wax onto your skin, hmm?" he stifles another chortle and presses his lips against the crook of your neck, "well kitten, that's the whole point of it, isn't it? You anticipate, live in the thrill—doesn't that get you all hot and bothered?"

His hand which had been around your waist, slides down your lower abdomen and belly to trace circles on your mound; you bite back another whimper because his cold fingertips urged to graze further down to rub your clit. Pressing in circles, his middle finger dips along your slit, the sensation making you mewl. When he presses a little harder, the walls of your cunt tighten around the ovoid device fit snug in the deepest part of you. Yeosang groans the moment he feels your juices and Seonghwa's cum coat his sleek- long finger. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, containing his very urge to shove two fingers into your puffy cunt and saw you out as you deserved to be.

"Yes—yes, it does." You squeak, catching up on your slipping tongue and the hitching breath.

Speaking of truth, you were certainly beyond bothered. This session was dragging on in a painfully slow pace, and you wondered if this is how it's going to be with him at all times. Though, you couldn't completely deny that you were enjoying yourself, just as much as he was by toying with you. Yeosang doesn't utter another word and his warmth strays off your back; the intensity of the candle grows stronger on one of your tits, and before you could react to it in anyway, a good and hot wad of wax trickles down your fleshy tit and taut nipple. Pressing your lips together, you prevent yourself from whimpering to the searing heat, but it soon cools off and hardens around your skin, moulding perfectly.

"Yeo—" at the verge of spilling his name out, you catch your tongue but it's too late, the sweltering wax is already leaking down on your chest.

"I do not recall giving you the audacity to call me by my name." His chuckle is long lost in your ear, "you need to learn, kitten, that, bound in these four walls, I'm your master. Do you understand that, or I do need to fuck it in your brain?"

You swallow the prickly lumps forming in your throat, and nod with an eager look, "yeah, yeah—I understand, master."

"Such a good kitty, she deserves to be treated, doesn't she?"

The nods of your head grew softer but still remained eager; as your foreboding anticipation would crash over you, Yeosang trawls the candle across your chest and continues to do so until he's painted perfect rivulets of crimson wax on your skin. Alluring shade, intricate patterns branching outward on your skin, it was a piece of art how the melted wax framed your chest. You tilt your head to catch a glimpse of the red streaks, captivated by his work. Yeosang grumbles a string of incoherent words, sounding a little off in his satisfaction; you keep yourself from whimpering his name, and shift about on your folded legs. There it was a blinding spark of tightness roiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Please, please, please..." you chanted in your haze of desperation, wanting to be relieved of your misery.

The man leaning against your back, clicks his tongue; his presence starts to dither, the warmth cascading down to a cold breeze of nothingness. He's off and up, the candle disappears from your line of sight, and it fills up with tears. You may not like to admit it, but you were really close to letting go of all the tension in the pit of your stomach. A simple nudge would be enough for you to come undone. Though, in the darker side of your mind, you couldn't foretell any of Yeosang's further moves. Sullen in the state of stillness, you take a deep breath and let the nifty moments roll out. And to your surprise, you find Yeosang placing the candle back to its rightful place; he turns on his heels, the meagre light illuminating a haughty curve of his lips.

"If my memory serves me right," he drags his words into a whisper, "I remember Seonghwa boasting about the head you gave him."

"Is it true, Angel?" your brows scrunch together in bemusement. "I would need to know it for myself, how well your mouth takes me in."

You gulp. Audibly enough for his smirk to lilt on his lips, stretching into his cheeks. "Say ah, kitten."

He prompts you with a mocking tone, having stood in front of you now. You tilt your head up, raising it high to meet his ambiguous eyes, drifting further apart into the dark intentions of his words. Without hesitation, you slack your jaw and open your mouth; all sounds are stuffed back into your throat when two of his fingers push inside your mouth. Pressing the pads of his fingers against your tongue, he pushes them further into your throat. The calloused yet soft skin of his fingers leaves an eerie sensation on your tongue, but you gulp it down and begin sucking on them.

"So warm and soft. Can't wait to have this mouth around my cock," he grumbles, throwing his head back slightly, "you know what, kitten? Why don't you show me what you can do with your mouth. Fuck my fingers first and then I'll decide whether this mouth deserves to have my cock in it or not."

A part of you was extremely pushed into this corner of desires and arousals; it wasn't just a dream for you, and even if it was, you were living it. Did it happen every day that you'd stumble upon an innocent man, seemingly unbothered and unfazed by mere interactions around him, only to find out he's much filthy in his mind than he shows himself to be? No.

Yeosang's way of teasing and slurring his words was turning you on more than you had ever expected. You squeeze your thighs tightly for your cunt to detangle the tension it was sparked with it. Though, it only made matters much worse because your feeble actions had made the balls inside you to create tremors in the pit of your stomach. Contemplating his words, you start sucking harder on his fingers and hollow your cheeks to constrain them in your warmth.

"Fuck," yeosang grunts, peeking at you through his half-lidded eyes, "wonder why I made you—fuck, kitty—" you lap up your tongue around both his fingers, pushing the tip over and under, "—should've ruined this mouth instead of making you read a pathetic little contract."

You hum in response, the gentle vibrations stifling around his fingers. Noticing, he coos, "aww, you agree too, kitten?" his lips curl, menacing a thrill in your stomach, "hmm, I need to know if you deserve my cock, or not."

Taking that as a challenge, you become determined and suckle his fingers deep in your throat; he doesn't resist and pushes into you. There's spit leaking out of your mouth, trickling down your lips and staining your chins with perfect opulent rivulets. He's caught admiring how you had started to choke on his fingers, screwing your eyes shut to help you alleviate the discomfort. You weren't exactly put in a state of unease, but you knew you'd take some time to get used to it. Yeosang's fingers weren't as sleek or long as Yunho's. They were rather girthy and veiny, taking up the entirety of your wet mouth. He keeps scuffing them on your tongue, fingernails digging in your fleshy muscle as he drags his fingers out of your mouth. The moment he's gotten them out, you cough, urging it all from your lungs before lurching forward.

"I'm convinced," he states, licking the fingers which were just shoving down your throat a second ago, "your mouth was made to please a cock."

As the wispy tones of his words dissipate in the air, you hear the soft scuffling of his shorts being pulled down; you peek back up, ravenous gaze creeping up his feet, thighs and then to his exposed pelvis. His shorts and briefs pool around his ankles, and he takes only a meagre second to step out of them. The next thing you know, his silly little tank top is discarded next to the pile of his bottom wear. Honestly, you wondered why he even wore that nifty tank top when it covered almost nothing of his chest.

"Master..." you spluttered through your chest, scoffing up the bits of spit and drool strings coating your chin and lips. "...be a good kitten—suck you off."

At this point, your brain was a mush. A complete mess of carnality, oozing past every limit. You felt lightheaded, and it wasn't because you had been staring, or slobbering at the sight of his cock resting against his lower belly, but because of the two very prominent and pronounced balls moving on about in your cunt. Realisation hits you harder than you thought it would; the balls kept rolling and screwing you over inside, painfully edging you to your orgasm. But they never pushed you to the very end of it.

"Yes, kitty. Patience," Yeosang lulls his words, "I'm just as eager as you to ruin this pretty little thing."

You watch him, helplessly, as he uses one of his hands to wrap it around the base of his cock. He gives it a few pumps, dragging his palm along the shaft to the reddened tip. While his other hand eases up to cup your jaw and his thumb hooks into your lower lip. His fingers rest under your chin, and his thumb prods at your lower jaw; you willingly let your mouth widen.

"Be a good kitty, hmm?"

You nod, shifting yourself on your knees to crawl closer to him. The stinging ache of your bounded arms was starting to turn forgettable. It was all too sudden, easy even, to forget about the pain when you were focused on something else. Here, getting your throat wrecked by him and his cock. Yeosang's size was impressive, really impressive; you don't find any joy in comparing lengths, but he'd easily be two inches above average.

"And I heard from Jongho that you..." he trails off, tugging up at your jaw to force your eyes on him instead of his cock. "...you like staring at—is that true?"

You want to shake your head and deny his petty allegations, but his thumb hooked in your mouth keeps you from moving even an inch. He pumps his cock a few more times before aligning the tip against your mouth. Having propped it opened with his thumb, Yeosang slips into your sloppy warmth without any effort, sinking down on his hips and pulling his hand away from your mouth. You feel the stretch on your lips, not much, but it's still there to remind you how well he had stretched your mouth open with his cock.

A lowly growl peeps from his chest, and he bottoms out in your mouth; soaked in your wet and warm spit, he closes his eyes shut and bites down on his lower lip. "Let me—fuck, so—kitten's mouth is so fucking warm—fuck, kitten, let me know if I can move or not."

You don't really have any mode to indicate him you were ready; so, you push your tongue to the top of your mouth and lick up a stripe under his shaft.

"That's a good kitten," Yeosang smirks, tangling the fingers of his both hands into your hair and pulls you away. "Gonna take my cock deep in her throat, isn't she...?"

With only his tip in your mouth, you rub your tongue around it and he growls which rings out to a chuckle, "fucking hell. Seonghwa was right, this tight little thing can really take a cock in."

He starts pushing on his hips, and you willingly swallow his cock. Reaching deep enough, the tip of his cock brushes over the roof of your throat, triggering your reflex gag in an instant. You choke on your spit but continue to slug his cock further down in your throat. A moan strangles itself in his chest, his mind going numb to the tightness and the warmth of your throat. Yeosang hurls his head further back, his neck arching to a perfect curve while his eyes stay shut tight; you peek up at him, your own gaze shining with tears and innocence. A tiny fracture in time coaxes him to compose and turn his attention on you. You're stalked by his predator-like eyes, every movement, every blink of your eyes, every breath you hitched out of your nose; at a point, you were starting to suffocate on his cock.

"Good kitty," he praises, his voice startling you a bit as it turns softer and melodious. "Sucking my cock so well."

He lets his cock stay buried in your throat for a minute more before pulling back, not completely out, however. You moan in response and flatten your tongue under his shaft, keeping it unmoving for a while. Yeosang fists his hands in your hair, guiding your head down on his cock to let it plunge deep again. The pace of him toying with your head is, steady and slow, easing out every time you gagged or choked on his cock the moment it reached your throat. One of his hands disentangles from your hair and traces around your throat; his thumb pushes right under your jaw, feeling a faint bump of his cock through your skin.

"Can you feel it, kitten..." he growls under his breath, "can you feel my cock—ah fuck—can you feel my cock bulging around your tight little throat?"

You groan, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him in deeper. He gets the answer he was hoping to get; his other hand still twined in your hair, lowers your head on his cock till your nose is scrunched up against his pubic bone, his soft and tender skin tickling your lips and nose. He was well groomed.

"That's more like it," he whimpers, tightening his grip around your throat to exert an additional pressure; it constrained the walls of your throat around his cock, tensing up your muscles. "A pretty mouth for my use."

You really wished you could voice out your pleasure as well. Though, that becomes a lost possibility when he starts thrusting himself back and forth in your mouth. You keep your cheeks squeezed around his cock as the pace of his thrusts picks up. Yeosang's lips part when a hoarse moan slips past them and his eyes screw shut at the feeling. One of his thrusts falls out of rhythm and he slips out of your mouth; glancing down at you, he clicks his tongue, and you eagerly wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You lower yourself, without needing to be pushed by him. Struck with passion, he rolls his hips into your face and his cock is back in your throat, snug and warm.

When the tip of his cock brushes on your tongue, you taste a slight hint of bitterness from his precum and swallow it down. Spit dribbles out of your lips when he pulls his cock back, slithering onto your chin and further below; he clenches his jaw, the pace of his thrusts surging and continuing to be more spontaneous. He kept plunging his cock deep into your throat, kept your head steady by intertwining both of his hands in your hair. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes; his ruthlessness and roughness were too much for you to handle. You push your conscience through it, squirming in your place when you are struck by the heaviness in your cunt; the balls, they shuffled along your puffy cunt and teased a knot in your gut. Yeosang's hips rattle against your face, every time he pushed you down, your nose would get rumpled by his pubic bone and that would leave you no chance to breathe. Your lungs burned with the need in your chest, your body slowly starting to convulse to his animalistic lechery. With his every thrust, your chest would heft out, and the puddling streaks of wax would fall off your skin and onto the floor. He would go harder, he can, and he was about to; you knew it well, tears stain your cheeks and drool drips down your chin, drop by drop, eventually falling onto the floor. Clinging onto the last breath you scoured to take, you shift on your knees and the orbs fitted snug in your cunt, give your gut a little nudge to make you cum.

You were close. So damn close. It was starting to turn into a painful endeavour than pleasurable; you were gagging on his cock, strangled by his relentless and aggressive thrusts, and forced to choke on your spit because he won't pull out. Your mouth was a paradise for him, the tightness, the warmth, the way your tongue slopped under and over his shaft, it was all driving him wild. Amid his thrusts, you feel his cock twitch, indicating you he was close to his edge too.

Puffing out a guttural moan, Yeosang heaves a sigh and pulls himself out of your mouth. Sweat covers his body in a thin coat, glimmering against his skin; his hair sticks to his forehead and face, cupping around his cheeks as he pants and becomes too breathless to form words. Aching suffocation makes you cough out the spit which had been trapped at the back of your throat; your body wants to collapse; you want to lay down on the floor and roll into a ball to compose yourself. Regardless of the lethargy and stinging strain on your lungs, you look at him with teary doe eyes, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out for him.

"Such a dirty little kitty, wants to make me cum, does she?" he mumbles, a smug smile curving his lips and his hands slipping off from your hair. "Then she better fucking swallow what I give her." A mild throb nicks at your neck from being angled in an uncomfortable position, though you could care less about it; slotting yourself in the similar position as before, you shudder when he rubs the tip of his cock along your lips, and cheeks. You were lost in the ecstasy of your lewd mind, your arousal only minutes away from coming undone; the connection between your rationality and tongue had been severed, you knew you were about to spew nonsense for him.

"Want to make my master cum—make him feel good," you voicelessly utter, your breath fanning over his cock, "kitty will...kitty will swallow what her master gives her."

"Hmm, that's a good kitty," he grunts, nudging his thumb on your chin, "open wide now, kitten."

You do as he says, loosening your jaw and opening your mouth wide for his cock to slip right in. This time, he wastes no time in plunging his cock directly in your throat; his thrusts pick up the instant you start gagging on his cock, the tip submerging deep in your warmth. With his concise and sharp thrusts, your body rattles to his force and the rope shackled around your arms bites down into your skin. One of Yeosang's hands is back into your hair, though this time he collects every strand in a makeshift ponytail and guides your head on his cock by holding onto it. His other hand grabs your jaw, his fingers slamming tight across your cheeks; he presses them hard, compressing the space in your mouth to his cock.

"Ah, yes—fuck, kitten—a really good—ah, fuck, such a good fucking pocket pussy for my cock."

A few more rough and aggressive thrusts send you into a sensory overdrive, a nightmare breaking past the bounds of your mind and coming alive; you were aching with an intense urge to let go of the knot tautening in your stomach. You were on the verge of breaking down into tears and sobbing—hell, you had already started crying. Hot tears exude from your eyes, trailing perfectly down your cheeks and ending up on his fingers; your cheeks were still squished by the way. Yeosang was using your mouth quite adeptly, rutting his hips like an animal and pushing your head against his pelvis. You were so done, so tormented by the spheres clinking around in your tight cunt that you couldn't contain it anymore. You're the first one to fall apart, your body trembling to shambles and your mind fogging up with the aftermath. Your juices pool down on the floor, creating a splash with its sound resonating in the room filled with Yeosang's grunts and moans. Panting to the terrible weakness taking over you, your chest heaves up and down, erratically, your lungs screaming in need for air.

"My kitten made a mess on the floor," he grumbles, peering at the floor where your arousal, mixed in with Seonghwa's cum pooled, "such a bad kitty—fuck, such a bad kitty to relieve herself on the floor." biting back on his moans, he shudders as he continues in his raspy tone, "but my kitty did so good—pleased her master—fuck, so good—pleased her master so fucking well. She–she fucking deserves a treat."

Yeosang's cock twitches in your mouth; his eye had been fixed on your body all this while, learning every detail and habit about it. He admired your ability to gag on his cock, he liked the way your body convulsed in itself when you came, and he loves the fucked up look on your face. Sweat, tears, spit, covering every inch bit of your skin and giving it a shine; besides, your eyes, shrouded by darkness, a tinge of lust which shows how drunk you are on his cock.

"This face—ah, this fucking gorgeous face—next time, I'm taking a picture—fucking keeping it to myself to jerk off to." he's so breathless as he blabbers out.

That was the breaking point for him, your face, the stretch of your lips around his cock as he plunged in and out, and the eerie pleading in your eyes. As a sadist, he doesn't need anything else to feel him lose himself; he just needs your tears, your vulnerable moans and your tormented eyes. One more time his cock twitches in the deepest part of your throat, and suddenly warmth starts trickling down; his load floods your mouth in waves, spurting and gushing all over in your mouth.

He lets go of your cheeks and pinches your nose instead; his other hand still held you back in a ponytail, slowly and gently tugging on it to push you away so he can slip out from your mouth. When he pulls out, a few strings of spit and cum stay linked with your lips and the tip of his cock.

"Swallow." he sternly utters.

The clasp of his forefinger and thumb on your nose tightens, leaving you no choice but to breathe in through your mouth; eventually, you swallow down the entirety of his load. Bitterness of his cum makes you gag, but you still push through and once done, open your mouth wide to show him you had guzzled every last drop of him.

"Such a good little kitty," he whispers and let's go off your nose; he takes a step back and watches your body lurch into itself. You tired, catching up on every lost breath and it amused him how helpless you seemed, coughing, panting, face covered in bits of his cum and spit.

"This isn't over yet, kitten. Get on your feet." He commands in a stern voice, shaking up your body and getting you on your feet. "Sit here."

You find him standing behind the chair, his lips slightly curved. Finding his intense eyes swelter on yours, you somehow manage to stand on your wobbly legs and stumble to the chair. Instead of sitting like a normal person, your knees give in and slump down on the chair, earning an amused yet belittling chuckle from Yeosang.

"Seems like my kitty is tired." he muses with a pout on his lips, stepping around to kneel in front of you. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her."

Muttering almost incoherently, he lets a smile hook onto his face, his cheek fluffing up slightly at one side. Yeosang's eyes hold yours, keeping you arrested in the motion while you try to sit properly on the chair; the light caresses of his fingertips follow up your knees and eventually graze past your inner thighs. He spreads your legs apart, humming in satisfaction at the sight in front of him. You bloomed like a flower, your folds wet and slick; remnants of Seonghwa's cum still showed slight traces around your mound and slit. Yeosang drools, a wad of spit rolling out the corner of his lips.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he rasps, pushing himself closer to you, "a pretty pussy to devour."

The sheer waves of his warm breath ebb over your mound, shuddering your body and making you lose your mind. You throw your head back, arching your neck and lurching behind into the support of the chair. Yeosang whistles lowly, palming his hands further up your thighs and letting them rest too close to your cunt. He uses his thumbs to spread your folds apart, admiring the pretty pink flesh obscured by the limpid texture of Seonghwa's cum. Without any warning, Yeosang dips his head down, fluttering kisses on your abdomen and going lower to your belly. His lips graze your mound, and his tongue slides out, the tip pushing along your slit.

"Fuck—master, please—ah, Yeosang, feels good," you let his name slip past your lips, mentally cursing yourself at the fuck up.

Yeosang acknowledges your little mistake, by nibbling down on your clit with his teeth; it's a gentle nibble, but his teeth sink quite nicely to give you a whiplash. "Strike one, kitty."

"M'sorry," you mumble your head and close your eyes shut, focusing on the way your body had started melting under his breath and tongue.

Flattening his tongue, he laps up your slit and folds, his thumbs stretching you out and propping you open; he gives you soft licks, lapping up Seonghwa's cum. He swallows it down, whatever that he could scour from your pussy. And in a sudden rush, his tongue slithers to your hole, prodding and pushing inside. You tried to hold onto your own hands, your nails digging into the flesh of your forearms; the rope was nowhere near loosening, and that was awful already — but the urge to just tangle your hands in his hair and push his head down, was almost getting the worst of you.

"You'll have to get used to it, kitten," Yeosang huffs out, pulling away slightly only to bury his face back into your cunt; his tongue continues with the abuse, protruding into your hole and lapping up on your walls.

"I know," you breathe out, drawling on your spit and peeling your eyes open to peep down at him. "Oh, fuck," keeping your words to yourself, you stare at the man, absolutely turned on.

His head was between your thighs, his fingers pushing and stretching you out, while he devoured you like you were his last meal. You really did wish to push his head down against your cunt, help him reach to the deeper depths of your warmth. Yeosang's tongue thrusts in and out, toying with the metallic chain of the orbs which were fit inside you. The latter half of the chain dangled out; one of his hands disappears from your inner thigh and holds onto the little dangling chain, while his other hand rakes to your cunt. Giving you no time to comprehend, he slips two of his fingers inside, pushing and curling them to his pleasure and unravelling you.

The placid yet unruly thrusts of his tongue nudged the balls every time, and his fingers did too. You were already lightheaded from your prior release, but as he continued to plunge and shove, the tension for second release started building up in the pit of your stomach. To add to your arousal, Yeosang pokes the tip of his nose along your slit, pressing hard.

"Feels so good, Yeo—master," you quickly correct yourself, a heavy moan gliding across your tongue and making you bite down on your lips. "Hmmm—so fucking good." Your words are left to muffle by your clasped lips.

Yeosang takes it as a nod at encouragement and picks up the pace of his fingers, shoving them in deep and pulling them out painfully slow. His tongue curls inwards, pulsating against your g-spot.

You mewl, "yeah, fuck—right there."

Mumbling against your skin, Yeosang doesn't spare you any mercy. Finding a rhythm, he sticks to it, ruthlessly sawing his fingers through your cunt and his tongue surging deep to tighten the knot in your gut. Only a minute passes, and you clench around him; the metallic balls in you stimulate your release, alongside his fingers and tongue. This was too much, too much to bear; your body spasms one more time before relaxing and untying the knot. Easing out on the tension, your second release floods over you and forces a loud moan from you. All air is knocked out of your chest, sending pleasurable tremors down your spine and readying you for the aftermath.

You peek at Yeosang, who continued to lick and nibble on your cunt before pushing himself back; his skin shines under the limited light of the room, his nose, lips and chin are coated with a thin sheet of your juices.

"You taste phenomenal, kitten." He says, gathering himself together and composing himself on his feet. "Although next time, I'll be wrecking this sweet cunt with my cock."

Shuffling around, he drapes his tank top over his chest and pulls his briefs up; he looks around and clicks his tongue. "Ah, the part I despise the most. Cleaning."

"I don't think I'm in any shape to help you."

"Don't worry, I'll do it later. Let's get you a warm soak first."

"Seems bout right."

You're too fucked out of your mind to comprehend his words, but regardless, you heave a chuckle and close your eyes to let the silence and darkness flow through your mind. As time passes, Yeosang helps you with the aftercare; he prepares you a tub of warm water and pulls you in with him. Your back rests against his chest, while he rubs soothing circles on your thighs, lower belly and arms. Towards the end of the soak, he suggests brewing you a cup of hot tea, to relieve the soreness of your throat.

Once you were out of the tub, he pulls one of his sweatshirts over your head and offers to cuddle you. So, you spend most of your morning in the bed with him, his warm embrace sticking to you like a comforting blanket, while the two of you talk about useless things.

"So..." you trail off.

"So?" he squeaks, confused.

"Doesn't a master need to exaggerate his ownership over his slave?" you ask, biting your lip as you rest your head on his chest.

He snickers, his arms tightening around you and pulling you close, "he does. But what are you insinuating?"

"I've read it in books before, you know. How—how a master—"

"Do you mean collars and all that bullshit?" he instigates, gazing down at you. "Angel, I am not fond of the idea of showing off my possession over you. Besides, all of us here are sharing you with each other. I've always thought of it as unnecessary."

"Oh," you drawl on a breath, "I understand. It makes sense."

Reading the sulky pout on your face, Yeosang chuckles and shakes his head, "but if you want to wear my mark on your body, perhaps exhibit yourself as my slave with pride, then I can get you something."

"Really?" you peer at him, your eyes sparkling at the suggestion.

"Why not?" he muses.

"What are your thoughts on piercings?"

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sw33tsnow · 4 months ago

Text

Beautiful stranger

Firefighter!Simon Riley x illed!F!Reader (18+)

Summary:

Warnings: NOT FOR MINORS, protective!Simon, soft&sweet!Simon, "single-day memories" illness!reader, misunderstanding, (slight) angst, metions of injuries and blood, wholesome, etc. Wordcount: 3k

NOTE(s):

I'M TERRIBLY APOLOGIZE FOR ANY GRAMMAR AND LANGUAGE ERRS.

This blog is quite silly but it's adorable too, so I hope y'all enjoy it🙏🏻🙏🏻.

Simon could list a thousand reasons why he despised the humidity and fog in Manchester, and at such an odd time of year, the snow had started to melt, making the roads so much more treacherous and sticky.

But standing in front of this cozy book café with minimalist yet refined decor, all of the stubbornness vanishes. Taking a deep breath, it felt as if he's living again. Because behind that door is you, the blond's most important person who has been, is, and will continue to be. The one he would crawl back to, even if it is hundreds of miles away.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Simon was sent back to Manchester with the fire department a few years ago. Simon didn't want to go into details how it happened, let alone consider returning here, but he was extremely annoyed because the big boss had denied his request not to move him. The blond lost his family in the fire, which served as incentive and desire to become a fireman. Fortunately, he met a new family and was sent to another area to work, but still eventually returned to where he came from.

The first few days were bland, so Simon opted to go strolling around the neighbourhood, which was understandable given how much had changed since his last visit.

And he stumbled into your café.

To his surprise, your café is rather small and pleasant. It's nestled in a narrow lane and hence well hidden from the main road, making it difficult to spot. With the main brown and cream tones, along with plenty of doors with glass panels and vines clinging to the walls outside, indicated that the owner is a calm and hospitable person. Wholly opposite him in every way.

Simon had initially intended to stick to the plan exactly: visit and take note of a few noteworthy locations, without loitering. But even a tea junkie like him was lured in by the aroma of the roasted coffee beans.

"One cup surely won't kill me" The blond thought to himself.

Pushing the door open, the pleasant sound of the small bell hanging right above the door rang out. The bell wasn't loud but due to the quiet space of the shop, it rang for a while before stopping. Simon glanced around, and as soon as his gaze fell behind the cashier, you got up, grinned so sweetly, and tilted your head slightly to invite Simon to approach.

"Good afternoon, sir" You said in a soft tone so as not to disturb the other guests and bowed your head slightly, "What can I get for you today?"

"Nothing in mind, do you have...uhm, any suggestions?" Simon replied in his baritone voice, trying not to seem overly snarky,

For some reason, he didn't want to scare you, you looked so small compared to him and so approachable or he didn't want to make you feel nervous because of his rigidity.

The smile returned to your face. Without makeup, your long, slightly downturned eyelashes and smooth skin give you a serious, aloof look when you're not smiling. But the dimples, the large eyes and the way you have to look up to meet his eyes due to the height difference made the man know for sure that he has terribly misjudged you.

Your pupils fixed at the blond's for quite a while, truly taking him in and then sparked up, "A warm cuppa Earl Grey is all you need but I think a Mont Blanc would brighten your mood also, sir"

Simon gave you a nod, but he didn't seem convinced.

"Don't worry, I guess you're not a sweet tooth so I suggested that specific dessert." You turned to face him after glancing at the glass cabinet next to you that was holding an array of cakes, saying, "The choice is still yours."

The man was quietly pretty impressed by your dexterity and persuasiveness, rarely was Simon wowed by anyone since Johnny was the closest with his exuberance.

"All heard you" The blond nodded and kept his tone flat.

"Lovely" Your voice dropped to a whisper at the end of your sentence "Tha'll be £7.49 total" Your fingernails clicking on the screen behind the register desk.

"If you need anything else, feel free to call for me"

It was odd how Simon, far from being happy that he was back in Manchester as his mates had assumed, was secretly pleased for this transfer. However, the blond's frequent visits to this tiny bistro were becoming more frequent. For the first time in many years, Simon had to spend part of his personal income on more delectable cakes and coffee for his coworkers in order to allay suspicions. Simon also increased his frequency of gym visits, citing his need for extra coffee from his workouts as his justification, and for no other reason at all, when he bought it for everyone.

And gradually, the man and you also spoke more. The familiar time and your gorgeous smile were what greeted him every time, could probably say Simon felt at ease in this quaint café, so all of his awkwardness slowly vanished and was replaced by a naturalness between the two of you.

"Mr. Riley" You beamed, "You’re late today"

Simon chuckled lowly and shook his head before saying, "Told ya t' call me Simon, luv"

"Right, my apologies" You gave a cheeky smirk, "Usual?"

"Nah, I need something stronger t'day" He looked at the blackboards written in crisp white chalk hanging behind you, above the stacks of washed cups.

"How 'bout an Egg coffee from my hometown?" You tilted your head, "It's sweet enough so ya won't need a tart but the coffee is strong"

"Yeah? Still wanna 'ave a taste of your new recipe though" He smirked, "Ya forgot, 'aven't ya?"

Raising your eyebrows a little as you giggled gently in front of your lips, "Of course not, I'll get it for you right away"

"Do ya need anything else, Mr. Riley?"

"Uh, yeah....Can I take tha' Pumpkin Pie? Need to bring some treats back for the mates” The man scratched his head and looked at you.

"Already in love with ma baking, Simon?" You sweetly asked.

Simon blushed and coughed, but he knew you weren't the kind to make fun of people too much, so he kept quiet.

And you… did it on purpose. The fact that you described Simon's first meeting in over eight pages was embarrassing. The voice, the towering height and sturdy shoulders, and of course the messy wind-blown blonde locks. Oh my, the deep tone that used to give you butterflies in your stomach, as though you were bewildered by your own muscle memory. It seemed as though falling in love with this gentleman was possible without even knowing his face. However, as soon as he removed his thin mask to savor the flavor of the tea you had prepared, that dashing visage was glued to the front of your notebook.

Although you didn't have any intentions on those previous days, it was definitely the reason you called his name, Simon, to see the light pink layer spread across his ears.

"Here you go" You handed the pie, "My treat"

And of course the blond refused you, but what could he do, you're more stubborn. So Simon had to leave with you seeing him off at the door, because he couldn't stop insisting on paying for the pie.

Bidding the taller gentleman farewell, you blew on your hands and rubbed them together to warm them before rolling up your sleeves and began to wash the dirty plates and cups.

"Someone's in love" The young girl gave you a prod and spoke with your mother tongue, it's your sister.

You laughed and rinsed the soapy cup, wiped your hands on your apron, and without hesitation aimed straight at this little employee's chubby cheeks and pinched them. As usual, the little girl just cried out in pain and gently pushed you hand away.

"Watch it" You glared, teasingly threatening her.

The girl stroked her cheek and murmured, "I'm not wrong." "Not like the other customers you mentioned to me to help you remember, Mr. Riley is indeed very special to you."

You didn't object, just smiled warmly and shook your head, turning back to wash your cups. If you were to talk, you didn't know Simon that well. You were always curious to know what he did for a job, how his family was, and so on. You just wanted to hear that honey-like voice respond to all of your queries. God, though, how do you open up?

.....And how would he react to your condition?

_-_-_-_-_-_

The familiar chime of the bell caught the attention of the girl who was occupied with the mop and the wet wooden floor was decorated with footprints of mud and melted snow. With a quick glance at the clock, it was late enough for the shop to be open, as evidenced by the chairs driven upside down on the tables.

"Mr. Riley!?" Leaning the mop against the wall, the young girl looked surprised before turning directly to face the older man.

Simon's dark brown eyes quit darting around, as though he was looking for someone, and he nodded a greeting. As if understanding his gesture, the girl pointed towards the back door of the café and he immediately followed the direction she pointed, not forgetting to also grunt out thank you.

It was difficult to tell the difference between hot breathing and cigarette smoke owing to the chilly weather, but the aroma was unmistakable - that's how Simon found you. Standing in a jet black turtleneck dress that accentuated your skin, the waistline hugging your lower belly and the shapely hips that made him gulp. You leaned against the wall, holding a lit cigarette between your index and middle fingers while the smoke steadily out your mouth and nose. You were wearing a long trench coat and matching boots that nearly reached your knees. Although you were worn out, Simon thought that didn't take away at all from your beauty.

"I thought you're gonna to keep the cigarette fo' me like you said?" The man came slowly toward you and cleared his throat.

Startled that you hadn't heard the footsteps, you whirled around. You glanced at the person in front of you and blinked. Messy hair neatly combed, big palms with a beautiful bouquet, and warm eyes looking straight at you. Simon gently took the cigarette from your hand and brought it to his lips to inhale.

"My apology....do I know you, sir?"

What?

Simon must have heard it wrong, mustn't he? The blond gave you a subtle glimpse before giving you back the half-burnt cigarette. You weren't upset with him, were you? The man chuckled softly, he grabbed your chin and brought you closer to his face.

You didn't back away nor did you push him off, but your eyes were distant and confused even though you tried to hide it. Simon's panic was starting to set in. What happened while he was gone?

You, on the other hand, had no fear of this man. You had no idea why, yet he treated you so gently. His deep voice and stern appearance went against every gesture. You couldn't recall what it meant but you know there's something going on between you and this man.

“I'll see you later”

The man spoke after a long silence. After offering you the bouquet with a "This's for you," he gingerly withdrew and swiftly vanished from the view.

You immediately stubbed out your cigarette and ran after him but it was so contrasting to his muscular body, Simon silently disappeared into thin air, as if he had evaporated from the earth.

Even after two days had passed, Simon was still haunted by the incidents of that evening. Did he do something wrong, did he forget to bring you the souvenir he promised or did he buy you the flowers you didn’t want? Or did you just…..want to forget him? Negative thoughts continued to torment the blond, making it impossible for him to concentrate on his duties, which explains why Captain Price disciplined him with 200 push-ups and cleaning the training area.

Yet Simon couldn't help but think of you. He longed to see and to speak with you, words couldn't describe how much he missed you. He wished to convey to you his true feelings for you. But you're so cold, so distant, is it because you didn't feel as close to him as he did to you?

As if recognizing that he would never be able to answer these questions for himself, Simon made the decision to investigate the reason behind this. The man began by going over the fire station reports and surprisingly found that there had been a gas explosion in your apartment complex.

Your sister was on her way home from her friend's house that evening when she unexpectedly received a call from an unknown number asking her to come to your building and pick you up. The cop cars and fire trucks were so many that their blue and red lights were flashing all over the place as soon as she went onto the street where your flat was located, hurting her eyes. Narrowing her eyes, your sister stared up at the destroyed building and the horrible smoke rising from the fire that was being put out. When she regained consciousness, she looked about for you. She rushed to the area labeled with caution warning tape and saw you on a stretcher being taken into the ambulance as your cat remained by your side. The process of getting to ride in the ambulance with you to the hospital as your acquaintance was lengthy, even had to show her ID for proof.

It took your sister a long time to win you over to the idea that you could trust her when you woke up. She had given you her phone to see how she saved you in the contact and pictures of the two of you. Fortunately, the cat was nearby, so you assumed that it was also your pet because animals never lie. That day, she also had to help you remember that you owned a café, your exceptional baking and cooking skills, and pretty much everything else that matters.

All of your personal stuff was burned so you had to stay with your sister. The girl was so terrified and worried about you at the time that she only remembered what was immediately relevant and neglected Simon due to his lack of presence for such a long time.

Simon, after learning everything, was just as astonished. Stumbling into his truck and making his way to the address of your flat, which was mentioned in the report. Simon flashed his badge to get on the scene and discovered your notebook on the rotting wooden floor, with a corner burned.

Flipping through the pages, afraid they might crumble, he read your handwriting. The notebook was mostly filled with recipes and reminders, and there are a few pages dedicated to regular visitors. And there’s Simon, with his stolen side profile that was taken by you probably, and dozens of pages about him. The more he read, the more the blond felt like you’re keeping a diary with him as the subject. On how sweet his tea should be, what desserts he loves, and oh, how you describe his smile.

And then a tear, two, until the man's vision blurred. He realized how much you loved him too.

Gently tucking your notebook inside his thick coat, Simon walked out of the apartment building and straight to his car. He needed to see you now, you needed his help, he knew that for sure.

The café is quieter than normal today, which you had a lot of time walking about behind the cashier counter. Occasionally, you'd catch a glimpse of someone passing by the glass door, but they didn't stop by. You let out a sigh and bent down to clean the tabletop for the zillionth time before throwing the towel over your shoulder.

The engine of the car heavily stops at the curb opposite your shop. You narrowed your eyes to get a better look and oh, it's the same man who handed you the bouquet the last time and well, vanished. He still has the same good looks as the notes you wrote in your brand new note.

The man entered, his gaze falling on you right away. You didn't know why, but you instantly froze and flushed. He came over to where you were standing in an instant, grabbed your face in his hands, and gave you a passionate kiss. Alright, that was a bit too much. Despite your best efforts, the man in front of you continued to kiss you while holding you so closely that it was difficult for you to breathe.

“Gosh, get a room you two” Your sister made the disgusted face towards both of you.

"What do you think you're doing?" With a mixture of embarrassment and anger, you asked.

There was no response from the man, just an embrace that took away your ability to chastise him. You saw that his shoulders were trembling a little and that your shirt was damp, which made you anxious because you couldn't figure out why he was sobbing.

With shaking hands, the blond man pulled out your charred notepad and gave it to you, saying, "I'm really sorry"

You took it in surprise, flipping through the slightly burned pages, then the beautiful smile of the man in front of you appeared through the polaroid on the page with the notes written by you. Your eyes were also filled with tears, reading back the memories you had for him.

Then you looked up at him, to see his warm eyes still following your every move. Your small hand tightly grasped the man's jacket, your lips pressed tightly together even though there were so many words that wanted to be said.

“Hush, don’t cry, luv” He cooed, kissed your forehead “Let’s start again….”

“Simon” You cried into his chest.

“Yes, it’s me, your Simon”

Taglist: @shadowlali , @ghostlythots , @brickwall035

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