#but in that desperation for SOMEONE to care

[nezuscribe]

nepo baby gojo who grew up with not only a silver spoon but an entire china cabinet of them.

he’s rich, there’s no questioning it. rich rich. his dad was the ceo of a company, his mother a successful neurosurgeon. it was all in the cards for him to turn out successful, and it was no surprise when he did.

gojo graduated top of his class from japan’s best university. he’s in line to take over his fathers role at the company in a few years and his name is across forbes.

the only problem? the tabloids seem to be loving him for a different reason.

gojo is a shameless flirt. he has a plethora of exes, each having their own story about dating him. he’s an unapologetic playboy and sees no harm in fooling around, doesn’t care if it makes it into a stupid article because who reads those anyways?

everyone, evidently, and his father refuses to have his eccentric son ruining the family name.

the solution? make him date someone that they know he can’t break up with. set him up with a girl who’s so perfect on paper that she might not even be real.

he knows that his actions have had eventual consequences, but he never thought that he’d be forced to pick out a potential girlfriend from a line of pictures his assistants had splayed out for him. each of them coming from virtually no background with no importance to society. no families or families that are cut off, girls that nobody has heard of and would never remember if they saw her next to him. it much easier to create the perfect girl from scratch than finding her in the wild. especially ones as desperate as this? a fat check often shuts them up.

his uninterested gaze roams around the headshots, wondering how they must’ve convinced them in the first place. gojo knows what’s on the line, and as petulant and spoiled he is, he’s fortunately not stupid.

he rolls his eyes after another few minutes had passed, pouting to some random girl because he truly couldn’t care less.

the assistants around him quickly got to work, collecting the rest of the pictures as they began getting ready for what was to come.

little did you know that the strange offer you had from a strange woman a few weeks ago would be calling you back, telling you that you got the job.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Contracts

Mina x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because being with her felt good. It felt right.

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

And then there was the night you kissed her.

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

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

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

But that was the last time you saw her.

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

No forwarding address. No explanation. Just gone.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

That’s when you remember the card.

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

Now, though…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s her.

Mina.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mina. After all this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“A few,” she admits, glancing at you.

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

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

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

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

And then, she surprises you again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she’s there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“You’re not going anywhere,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

“Come in,” you call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

You frown slightly. “Fine?”

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

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

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

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

“They don’t have proof,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Then, without warning, you cut through the quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moment the words leave your mouth, Mina breaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not quite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s gone,” you say, glancing down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

Then, there was Mina.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s everything going?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gf2bellamy]

Hi!

Could I please request a fem!bau!reader (who isn't dating spencer yet) gets really badly injured by someone so she just shows up to spencer's door at night like 'can you please help me? i don't know where else to go?' and he like takes care of her wounds all gently?

bandage — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader being hurt, mention of blood and open wound , also sort of vv awkward / shy spencer a/n: hi hi ! thanks for your request !! <3 also he's so cute in this gif

Each step you took toward Spencer’s door felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest as much as the throbbing pain in your arm. 

You hadn’t planned on ending up here. The case had been brutal, and though you’d caught the unsub, it hadn’t come without a cost. He’d lashed out in a final, desperate attempt to escape, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

The paramedics had patched you up at the scene, but now, hours later, the wound had reopened. Blood seeped through the bandages, staining the fabric of your sleeve, and no matter how much pressure you applied, it wouldn’t stop. 

You’d tried to handle it yourself—really, you had. But the pain was relentless, and the fear of making it worse had finally driven you here.

Spencer’s apartment was close, and you knew he’d know what to do. He always did.

But now, standing in front of his door, you hesitated. The logical part of your brain told you that you were overthinking it—that Spencer wouldn’t mind helping you, that he’d probably be more concerned than annoyed.

But the irrational part of you, the part that was fueled by pain and exhaustion, whispered that you were intruding. That he might be busy, or worse, that he might not want to be bothered at all. 

The pain in your arm flared again, sharp and insistent, and you winced. That was enough to push you forward.

You raised your hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and you wondered if he was even home.

But then you heard footsteps approaching the door. 

It swung open, and there he was. Spencer Reid, hair slightly messy while wearing a loose sweater. He blinked at you, his expression shifting from surprise to concern as he took in the sight of you standing there, clutching your arm. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with worry. “Are you okay?” 

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I… I didn’t know where else to go. I tried to fix it myself, but it’s not stopping, and I—” 

He didn’t let you finish. “Come in,” he said quickly, stepping aside to let you pass. You stepped into his apartment. It was exactly how you’d imagined it—books stacked everywhere, a cozy couch, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. 

“You can sit on the couch,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he glanced at your arm. “I’ll get the first aid kit.” He didn’t wait for a response before turning and hurrying toward the bathroom.

You did as he said, slowly lowering yourself onto the couch. The cushions were soft. Your eyes wandered around the room.

Your gaze landed on the coffee table, where a half-finished crossword puzzle sat next to a mug with a thin layer of coffee still at the bottom. The sight made you smile.

Of course Spencer would be in the middle of a puzzle at this hour.

Soon enough , Spencer returned, the first aid kit in hand. He sat down next to you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

He set the kit on the table and opened it. He pulled out antiseptic and fresh bandages. 

You could feel the warmth of his body next to yours, and it made your heart beat a little faster. He hesitated for a moment before gently reaching for your arm.

“This might… uh, hurt a little,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your sweatshirt, and you felt a shiver run through you as he carefully pushed the sleeve up to expose the wound. 

The old bandage was stained with blood, and he peeled it away slowly, his touch feather-light. You couldn’t help but wince as the air hit the raw skin, and your stomach churned at the sight of the wound.

Instead of looking at the wound, you found yourself looking at him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed into a thin line as he studied the injury. His hair fell slightly into his face, and you had to resist the urge to reach out and brush it back.

Spencer hesitated again, his hand hovering over your arm. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with guilt as he finally pressed the cloth to the wound. 

You hissed in pain, your free hand gripping the edge of the couch as you tried to steady yourself. “It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth, though your voice wavered. 

He glanced up at you, his eyes filled with concern.He then looked away quickly, focusing back on your arm as he continued to clean the wound. His touch was careful and you could feel the warmth of his fingers against your skin, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. 

“You’re really good at this,” you said quietly, your voice breaking the silence.

He glanced up at you again, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. “I, uh… I’ve had to patch myself up a few times,” he admitted, his voice tinged with nervousness. “It’s not exactly my favorite part of the job.” 

You smiled faintly, your eyes never leaving his.

He held your gaze for a moment longer before looking back down at your arm, his hands moving to apply the fresh bandage.

“You should be more careful,” he said softly, his tone laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

Your heart skipped a beat.

But before you could say anything, he finished securing the bandage and sat back, his hands resting awkwardly in his lap. “There,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That should hold for now.” 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice just as quiet. You didn’t move, and neither did he. 

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Do you, uh… do you want some tea? Or coffee? I mean, it’s late, so maybe tea would be better, but—” 

“Tea sounds great,” you interrupted, smiling softly. 

He nodded, standing up quickly, almost too quickly, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Okay. I’ll, uh… I’ll be right back.” 

As he disappeared into the kitchen, you leaned back against the couch, letting out a slow breath as you tried to calm your racing heart.

The pain in your arm had dulled to a manageable ache, but the fluttering in your chest was another story entirely.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned, holding two steaming cups of tea. The faint scent of chamomile and honey filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile as he approached.

He was careful not to spill as he handed you one of the cups, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” he said, his voice low and slightly nervous. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking the cup with your uninjured arm. The warmth seeped into your hands, and you brought it to your lips, blowing gently before taking a small sip.

He sat down beside you, leaving just enough space between you to be polite, but not so much that you couldn’t feel his warmth.

He held his own cup carefully, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from the surface as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“Thank you,” you said softly. “For… everything. I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I didn’t mean to bother you.” 

Spencer shook his head quickly, his expression softening. “You’re not a bother,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’m glad you came to me. I mean, I wish you hadn’t gotten hurt in the first place, but… I’m glad you’re here.” 

You smiled faintly, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “Still, I feel bad for just showing up unannounced. I know you probably had plans or… or something.” 

He chuckled softly, a hint of nervousness in the sound. “Plans? No, not really. Unless you count rereading The Brothers Karamazov for the third time as plans.” 

You laughed. “That sounds like a very Spencer Reid kind of night.” 

He smiled back at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach flutter. “Yeah, well… it’s not exactly the most exciting way to spend an evening.” 

“I don’t know,” you said, your tone teasing. “It sounds kind of nice. Quiet. Cozy.” 

He glanced at you, his smile lingering. “It is. But… this is better.” 

The words hung in the air between you, and you felt your cheeks warm. You looked down at your tea, suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “It is.” 

The conversation eventually drifted to lighter topics—work, books, the crossword puzzle on the coffee table—and for a while, it felt like the world outside Spencer’s apartment didn’t exist.

The pain in your arm faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of the tea and the even warmer feeling of being near him. 

When you finally finished your tea, you set the cup down on the table and stood up. “I should probably get going,” you said reluctantly, though every part of you wanted to stay. 

Spencer stood too, looking slightly disappointed. “Are you sure you’re okay to go home? I can… I can drive you, if you want.” 

You shook your head, smiling softly. “I’ll be fine. You’ve already done more than enough.” 

You paused at the door, turning to face him. He was standing close, closer than you’d expected, and you could see the faint blush on his cheeks, the way his eyes flickered to yours before looking away.

“Thanks again,” you said. “For… well, for everything.” 

He nodded, his expression soft. “Anytime. Really.” 

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing as you made a decision. Before you could overthink it, you stepped closer, standing on your tiptoes, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm under your lips, and you could feel the way he froze, his breath catching. 

When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was trying to process what had just happened.

But then, slowly, a small smile spread across his face. “Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice soft and warm. 

You turned and stepped out into the hallway, your heart still racing as you walked away. But as you glanced back one last time, you saw him still standing in the doorway, his fingers brushing against the spot where you’d kissed him, a dazed look on his face. 

[sacrificiallane]

Blahaj ۶ৎ Percy Jackson x reader

cw: silly smut, fluff, very short!! blurb

„why‘d you go all quiet, huh?“

Percy — all sweaty and huffy from the sweltering heat that was currently surrounding the both of you — stopped his movements for a moment, to take a much-needed breather, and to check in with you!

your wide eyes staring up at him did little to not immediately start grinding into your fluttering walls again…, but Percy tried to think with his head for the moment, and not the one that was desperately twitching inside of you.

„can‘t when he‘s watching us…“ you answered softly, almost silent enough to have him miss what you just said.

„uh— what?“ he‘s not sure who you mean, his own eyes going wide as he thinks someone is watching the both of you in such an intimate moment. although he doubts there are many creeps around camp— but you can never be sure, yea?

the son of poseidon quickly looks out the window then, or tries to, anyway, because the curtains are drawn. like always when he decides to devour you under the sheets.

„pretty girl i don’t know what you mean, please.“

you were killing him here, speaking seemingly nonsense when he all but desperately clung to the last little bit of sanity, before he would have to either pick up the pace again or slip out of you…

and Percy certainly didn’t want the latter!

he watches as you become all blushing under his gaze and sheepishly point to the side of his bed. and there, staring into your soul — soaking everything up that was happening, or at least that’s what it felt like for you — was this huge plush shark. the one you'd brought him from Ikea that one time…

a slight snort passes through his lips as he follows your pointed finger, and he has to lean down for a moment to press his forehead against yours. you meant the shark! of course you meant the shark…

"but pretty girl," he slowly grins against your skin again, making your breath stutter in the best way possible. "i like when he sees m‘ taking care of his mommy, hm?"

"Perce!" — "okay okay, fine..."

defeated, and with much effort — because he really, really doesn't want to slip out of you now — Percy stretches his arm over your head and half-heartedly turns the poor plush shark around, so that he's no longer 'watching'.

"better, hm?" a kiss is gently placed to your forehead and your eyes flutter close at his softness, before his gentle caresses turn deliciously rough again, and you're left gasping and clawing...

"yea, there we go..., lemme hear you, pretty girl..."

lane writing longer fics challenge, failed?

[marysfics]

Home Was a Place You Couldn't Let Her See | Part 1

She was the sun in your storm.

Angst, Fluff

A note before you begin: This story explores themes of toxic family dynamics and their impact. It's a multi-chapter fic, and I'll aim to post new chapters every Saturday. I appreciate you taking this journey with me.

The first time you saw Alexia Putellas, she was a vision in motion. Effortlessly juggling a football with the tip of her cleats, golden-brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail, she commanded attention without even trying.

You weren’t sure why you noticed her in the first place—maybe it was the sheer confidence radiating from her, the easy laughter that bubbled out when she almost lost control of the ball. But from that moment, something about her drew you in.

You, on the other hand, were the kind of girl who faded into the background. You kept your head down, navigating life with the quiet precision of someone trying to become invisible. Your home life demanded it—any misstep, any attention, could have consequences far worse than being ignored. But Alexia? She radiated light, warmth, something you couldn’t quite name but desperately craved.

It started with small, stolen glances. You sat two rows behind her in Spanish class, watching as she drummed her fingers absentmindedly against the desk while the teacher droned on. Then, one day, she caught you staring. A smirk played on her lips.

“Like what you see?” she teased, her voice soft enough that only you could hear.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “Not really,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed you.

She laughed, tapping her pen against her notebook. “Liar.”

Your first real conversation happened at lunch. You usually sat alone, picking at whatever meager meal you managed to bring from home. That day, Alexia slid into the seat across from you, setting her tray down with a grin.

“You’re always so quiet,” she observed, resting her chin in her hand. “Why is that?”

You shrugged, offering a noncommittal response. “I don’t have much to say.”

She studied you for a moment before tilting her head, her gaze piercing. “Or maybe you just haven’t found the right person to say it to.”

Something about her words resonated deep within you, a place you rarely allowed anyone to touch. You wanted to believe it was that simple. That you could just talk, be honest, without fear of repercussions. But honesty had never been kind to you.

Still, you found yourself gravitating towards her. It became a routine—Alexia waiting for you after class, walking with you through the halls, making a point to sit next to you whenever she could. She was persistent, in the way only someone with an unwavering heart could be, and slowly, gently, she chipped away at the walls you had so carefully constructed.

One afternoon, as you both sat under a sprawling oak tree after school, she nudged your shoulder. “Tell me something about you that no one knows.”

You hesitated, your gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the bark. “Why?”

She smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Because I want to know you.”

You glanced at her, then looked down at the grass, plucking at the blades. “I hate thunderstorms,” you admitted quietly, the words barely a whisper.

She raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I love them.”

You shook your head, a shadow passing over your face. “Not me. They make me feel… trapped.”

A flicker of understanding crossed her features, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she reached for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. “Okay,” she said simply. “Next time there’s a storm, I’ll be there. You won’t be alone.”

Your heart swelled in a way it never had before. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

The first time she held your hand during one of her games, you were surprised by the jolt of electricity that shot through you. You had never really cared for football, but she had insisted you come. When she scored, her eyes immediately found yours in the crowd, a triumphant gleam in them. After the match, when she jogged over to you, sweat glistening on her forehead, she grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re my good luck charm now.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I didn’t do anything.”

She grinned, that infectious grin that made your stomach flutter. “Still, you should come to all my games. Just in case.”

But there were things you never told her. You never let her walk you home. You avoided the topic of your family with careful precision, steering conversations elsewhere whenever they got too close. You could feel her curiosity, her worry, but you couldn’t risk her knowing the truth. If she knew, she might try to fix it. And no one could fix what was broken inside your house.

Still, being with Alexia was an escape, a reprieve, even if only for a little while. When she kissed you for the first time under the fading light of a sunset, her fingers tangled in your hair, you thought maybe—just maybe—you had found something worth fighting for.

But secrets have a way of surfacing. And love, no matter how strong, can only withstand so many walls before it begins to crack.

[vrystalius]

I know i just requested with weird nicknames for squid game characters.

But I want to see their reaction to your wallpaper being them or being another person. Literally obsessed with what you write its so cute. Take my heart ❤️

Squid Game men’s reaction for putting them as your phone’s wallpaper.

They randomly check your phone one day and find a picture of themselves staring back. How will they react? What kind of wallpaper do they have?

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu x gn!reader

Summary: You putting them as your phone wallpaper, them putting you as their phone wallpaper

Genre: Fluff, maybe a little angst in Nam-gyu’s part (mention of drug use)

Words: 800 per character

Note: I wrote this during my medicine and head concussion induced haze, forgive me for any inconsistencies or mistakes 😭🙏 Also, the middle pictures are a suggestion as what said wallpaper could be.

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // Salesman

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

Mostly surprise and confusion spread swirled in his mind the first time he stared back at himself in the form of your phone wallpaper. He never thought you’d screenshot this picture let alone use it as your wallpaper because c’mon— let’s be honest, you could’ve chosen any other picture of him and yet you decided on this.

It’s weird. Gong Yoo feels a little watched as he tries to find the food delivery app on your phone while having his own eyes stare back at him.

Although he had grown more and more fond of it every time he opened your phone anew. He sees how you grin a little when turning on your screen, how you sometimes giggle when you stare at it for too long. Sometimes you show it off to him and complain about he barely ever wears any skincare masks anymore.

“So you can have a new wallpaper? I don’t think so. My skin is fine for now, thank you darling.”

To be really honest, he finds it incredibly endearing that you chose him as your wallpaper, especially a picture like this. He thinks of himself as a sophisticated, charming, handsome salesman that lures desperate people into a death game and messes with homeless people in his free time, but you seemingly just see him as your soulmate, the love of your life, your husband.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Two months into the relationship and after a couple of dates, Gong Yoo already set you as his phone wallpaper. It was nice to have a reminder looking back at him to text you, check in on you, give you a call or even come by for dinner. A reminder that he has a special someone to care and love for.

He switches his wallpaper up every few weeks or months, wanting to keep it updated to your appearance. His chosen pictures are mostly intimate ones, snaps he takes while you are being unaware of how cute, attractive or adorable you look.

Pictures like when you are asleep on the couch in his arms after watching a movie, you after waking up and sleepily brushing your teeth in the mirror, you showing your back to him while waiting for the microwave to finish heating up the cheap convenience food, maybe even you stuffing your face with ice cream after a long day.

Whatever picture he may choose (much to your dismay), it always makes him smile to himself no matter the situation. Even if another homeless person asks him for spare change or those two random mobsters tried to jump him in an alleyway and now he was forced to “get rid of them”, a quick glance on his phone and seeing a cute picture of you immediately forces a smile to break out on his face.

The sight of their kidnapper smiling at his phone so lovingly while they were tied up and playing rock-paper-scissors for their lives probably made the two men shit their pants more than feeling the barrel of a revolver being pressed against the side of their head.

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

— Choosing him as your wallpaper. —

At first, Thanos reeeaaaallly disliked the picture you chose as your wallpaper. It was just a random reaction picture he send you one day about something he doesn’t even remember, and you went ahead and chose this as your phone wallpaper? Seriously?! Can’t you choose something more handsome, flattering?

He even offered to pose properly for you so you have a better pic to use, but after Thanos obviously started mewing and tried his absolute best to look as attractive as possible (which he already is but shhh), your boyfriend got extremely offended when you started laughing at his posing.

Your boyfriend gave up after a few attempts of secretly changing your wallpaper and seeing you pout every time he did, changing it right back to the one before.

If you really like it that much, fine. Just don’t let anyone see that you have that as your phone wallpaper, or else his rapper persona will never be able to recover from being exposed like that.

You don’t even understand why he is being so dramatic about your wallpaper anyway.

“I look hella ugly there, c’mon baby! Work with me here!! Here, lemme pose for you real quick so you can change that thing.”

Although it does flashbang you in the middle of the night when you turn on your phone, the brightness of the picture vaporising your eyes in an instant. It’s not the most pleasant thing to look at first thing in the morning but you still think he looks kinda cute in the pic.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

He was careful to choose the prettiest picture of you he can find and the proceed to show it off to everyone he meets. Thanos even showed you off to Nam-gyu multiple times, forgetting that he already showed his friend the same picture four times now. Nam-gyu is already totally looking forward to next week when Thanos shows you off again.

Your boyfriend grins like a child whenever he glances at his phone for too long, falling in love with your picture all over again.

He changes his wallpaper every week so he always has something cute to look at after performing at another underground club or while doing whatever, sometimes getting distracted from searching for a certain app and instead ending up scrolling through either your social media account or his photo library to search for more pics of you.

Whenever you catch Thanos grin at his phone again, your first instinct is to glance over his shoulder to check what exactly he is looking at, but he immediately closes his phone when you do. At first you thought he might be looking at some random girl’s profile or whatever, but when you open it up and find yourself staring back, you’re kind of surprised to be honest.

Although, he always denies that he really cares about his wallpaper. Your boyfriend is totally choosing it at random and totally does not match his lock screen with his homescreen and mostly chooses pictures of you two together, you kissing his cheek or him holding you. Not at all!

Nam-gyu // Player 124

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

You choose a rather cute picture as your wallpaper. You took it during one of your first dates where you dragged him to a festival that was being held near your home, dragging Nam-gyu there against his will. Back then he had shorter hair, wore his glasses more frequently. Back then he was a little shy believe it or not, at least when it came to romance.

He used more before he met you, being around alcohol and drugs at all times due to his occupation. It kind of came with his job and the circle of friends he was around, so before meeting you, there was barely any day he wasn’t high or having a hangover from some random drug.

Nam-gyu never noticed you had this picture as your phone wallpaper until he accidentally grabbed your phone, thinking it was his. Seeing this picture in particular gave him a brief jumpscare.

You took this picture after he managed to scrap out the star shape out of the sugar cookie he bought from a random stand during the festival. His hair was shorter back then and he wore his glasses more frequently, the mask a reminder of how times were 5 years ago. He struggled staying clean during that time and always felt like shit wich is why he didn’t want to go to the festival in the first place.

He didn’t even know you took this picture of him despite him fully looking at the camera. A small smile spread on his face at the thought of you really choosing a picture like this as your phone wallpaper.

Quickly putting your phone down, Nam-gyu quickly played off his reaction as he hard you come into the room.

“I’m smiling about nothing, shaddup. Go back to wherever you came from.”

With a dismissive hand wave, he tried to shoo you away. His attempts were futile as you instead pull him into a clingy hug, instead demanding cuddles instead. Who was he to deny your wish?

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Nam-gyu likes taking 0.5x zoom pictures of you from above and choosing them as his phone wallpaper, pushing you away as you try to protest and stop him from putting them as his wallpaper because seriously, he can literally choose any other pic!

You can hear quiet, evil “hehe”s from the corner of the room whenever you two are together and he turns on his phone, briefly turning it around so you can see what he was giggling so stupidly at, only for him to giggle harder at the sight of your unamused face.

Even if he mainly chooses those pictures as his phone wallpaper to annoy you, he likes having a stupid picture of you always available to him.

Some shitty guy searching for a fight at the club? Quick glance at your face at a 0.5x zoom makes him crack a smile right after. Thanos called him Nam-su, Gyu-nam or literally anything else but his name again? Turning his phone on lightens his mood immediately.

Sure, a flattering or cute picture of you would have the same effect on him, but this is much funnier in his opinion.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

HAPPY LATE VALETINES DAYYYYYYY!!!! Since tumblr limits your tags to 30 tags per post I always have trouble tagging all of the Squid Game men, so I decided to split this one prompt into two posts. If this gets enough attention / love, I’ll post a part 2 with Dae-ho, Gi-hun and In-ho! Also, thank you for requesting, I needed a break from writing my smut draft 😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[anemoiashifts]

what your s/o thinks about you !

+ your relationship

choose a painting above.

💌

disclaimer !! please don’t force messages to fit. i do a ton of readings & im sure if this one doesn’t fit, you will find one eventually that resonates. this is just a general reading :) ! ps this is also primarily for people who have not shifted yet but that doesn’t mean people who have shifted can’t get some insight on how their s/o feels about them !

sorry this reading is so late. i was on top of my game by posting this on the first of the month for a while. anywho ! happy late valentine’s day. may you consume all the gourmet chocolate & watch all the cheesy 2000’s strait to dvd romance movies you can find. sending you all a virtual bouquet of flowers. rose ? tulips ? your choice.

────୨ৎ────

🕊️ | dear pile one,

quite honestly based on the cards i pulled, your s/o puts you on a pedestal more then anything. they love that analytical, take nothing at face value aspect of you. while they celebrate it, they see it can become your detriment too. overthinking your every action, going “frame by frame” in life, can be tiring. you have a tendency to keep stuff in to appease others & not rock the boat, which they pick up on more then you think they do. this is someone intuitive & can sense your emotional wellbeing as if it was sentient. they want you to come to them. a caregiver at heart, wanting to soothe any insecurity or worry that floats around in the back of your head. while they may be awkward & stiff with their approach, they mean well despite struggle to execute the touchy-feely aspect to your relationship. they’re not as open as you are when it comes to emotions or trusting others. they’ve been burned in the past & for some of you that could mean literally. they’re the silent, sitting in a dark corner, the people watching type. they appreciate your input & how you always seem to open their eyes to new perspectives that they’d never come up with themselves which pulls them out of their funk.

the both of you make up a wing of a phoenix, always rising from the ashes of whatever hardship you may be facing together. the two of you are riddled with self doubts at times, teaching each other how to heal from trauma or let things go once & for all.

in summary with a few extra details ? they love you. like i said they see you as this light which they are not worthy of. with these last two cards & pure vibes im getting the picture that they had this perfectly curated “cool” aesthetic image to anyone looking in on them & when you came around that was shattered, leaving them vulnerable & scrambling to put the pieces back with old chewing gum & popsicle sticks. this person has a tendency to be secretive. never sneaky. not like hiding their phone screen or anything. more like not telling you things to upkeep that image they so desperately want for themselves. could be all smokes & mirrors to hide what’s really going on or maybe they just want you to think highly of them, the same way they think of you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

🐩 | dear pile two,

they like to keep it light with you. it’s giving cat & mouse. on & off but you always end up together. a class project, a seating arrangement. you just look good together, aesthetically.

this person likes to pretend they’re nonchalant & don’t care as much as they really do. unlike pile one, they feel like they have nothing to hide from you. you’re both open books with one another. you have been to the depths of hell & the highest of heavens together. it.

they can get a little short & irritated. nothing a throwing a table lamp at a wall won’t fix, usually. not the best of methods to let out some steam but know none of that is directed at you. anger issues are very much present within this person. why this is relevant is because it impacts your relationship more then this person will ever admit. they have a vision, having carefully crafted a plan before you came into the picture & now that you’ve stumbled into their life it’s setting everything ablaze. a workaholic who is now scrambling carefully combing through their prospects & goals to make accommodations in the margins for your presence & that scares them sometimes. at times embarrassed that you have this imaginary grip on every aspect of their life. they want to buy a new car ? what’s your favorite color ? they’re hungry ? they’ll stop at your favorite place as an excuse to bring you your favorite dessert. they somehow hold everything together really well considering the unnecessary stress they put on themselves.

expect late nights & going to bed alone. when morning comes, arising with a bouquet of flowers being delicately placed on your bedside table with a handwritten note. chances are they’re probably in the kitchen doing the dishes you were to lazy to do the night prior. their love langue is very much acts of service. they really really do care. going to the ends of the earth to bring you your simplest of desires. weather that be leonardo da vinci's "salvator mundi” or a pair of shoes you saw in a vintage fashion magazine yesterday. it will show up perfectly perched on your bed on a random tuesday as a just because.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

🐇 | dear pile three,

deep, intense spiritual connection. literal fireworks erupt when you first locked eyes with them. you’re in tune with others emotions & can physically feel what the other feels. you’ve spent past lives together. very high school cheerleader x football player in a 90’s romcom. a slight delay in actually dating or tying the knot. the whole friends to lovers pipeline may be in the cards for you. at the very least, a slow burn type romance.

you two could’ve met traveling. maybe that’s something they do for work ? nonetheless, they seem very artistic. having a sketch book filled with drawings of you & your favorite things. a secret poet who writes poems about you & puts little hearts around your name like a lovesick school girl. a photographer who takes your photograph when you least expect it. not in a creepy way. they just like to look at you. except them to pick you up little things off the ground and present them to you like a small child. they like collecting rocks & see a really shiny one on the ground ? congratulations you are now a proud shiny rock owner ! they’re very sentimental & thoughtful like that. someone who has a little box of every item you’ve ever given them no matter how minuscule. you’re their home, which could’ve been something they’ve never had before & neglected to even think about before they ever met you. somethings does tells me they’re a little bit of an age gap. if not in the literal sense, one of you may be more mature then the other. an “old soul”. this could go for any aspect in your relationship. sense of humor, how petty they (or you) could be, interests, tastes.

the love talking to you. loveeeee talking in general. about things that interest them, about things that interest you, the news, a new book they read. a very curious mind of which they enjoy sharing with you. i mean like up until four in the morning talking to you in bed all while still under the impression that it’s nine o’clock at night. time absolutely flies when it comes to spending time with each other. most importantly ? they listen. really well. like their memory is pretty much photographic. said your favorite food was chocolate covered strawberries one time two years ago ? your fridge will never not have chocolate covered strawberries in it again for the rest of your life.

────୨ৎ────

[nanaminxs]

Nerd!Dick Grayson who is fucking the sorority girl he’s had his dick eyes set on since the start of the semester.

Who wouldn’t be attracted to you? You’re bad as fuck—I mean come on. On top of that you’re genuinely smart. Something he doesn’t see often.

So when you’re ontop of him, ever so gently stroking his lengthy shaft with two freshly manicured hands he feels as if he’ll faint.

It was supposed to be him helping you study for finals. Instead it led to you swooning him into his bed.

“You know—when you asked for a one on one I didn’t get think it would fuck.. be like this.” He shudders, bucking into your touch.

Your cunt presses against the underside of his cock through pretty pink panties. The lack of friction on your part making him frustrated.

“We don’t have time for this, pretty. M’not even supposed to be in your dorm—or out of mine past 11.” His nails dug into the fat of your hips, brows furrowed. Eyes staring up at you, a silent plea.

“Would you calm down? No one’s finding you. Nor do they care.” You scowl, rolling your eyes at his nagging. Yet you pull your panties to the side and let slick folds glide against his cock.

Dick Grayson nearly cums from that. Breath hitching and balls tightening. He needs you now.

“C’mon.” Grayson urges, and you follow him with a flick of your wrist—making sure you give yourself time to breathe and adjust while he’s balls deep inside of you.

“I’m surprised you’re a virgin. I thought someone would’ve claimed this pretty face by now.” You hiss out. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as gummy walls drag against his cock at a slow torturous pace.

Dick throws his head back, letting out a gutteral moan, before he’s quickly silenced by your palm.

“I never said be loud. Keep it up and someone WILL find us.”

You’re gonna be the death of him. Even more so when you pick up the pace, ass rippling each time you slam yourself down on his length.

He has to stop his voice from bouncing off the walls and into someone else’s room by shoving his mouth full of your tit. Tongue circling the bud with a content hum.

He looks up at you like he’s only ever going to see you once before you ghost him. To be fair you probably will.

“Take over.” You blurt out, slowing your pace. His feet plant into the mattress and his cock fucks up into you. His hips snapping so desperately you would’ve lost your balance if his arms weren’t wrapped around your waist keeping you steady.

Dick Grayson doesn’t want this to ever end. He’d fuck you for hours if he could, but for now? He’ll settle for watching your face as you cum with a muffled cry—drenching his sheets.

[lila-dalilah]

SPECIAL I

S2!sevika x chubby!reader

3.2k words

Contents: Masturbating (short), Sevika being a horny fuck, mentions of drinking and smoking weed, mentions of age gap, reader as body hair (?), kind of slow burn.

Summary: Sevika meets you at a dingy bar and can’t get your body out of her mind.

A.N: I wrote this because I’m at the motherland (🇩🇴) and my partner isn’t, so i’m horny and touch starved as fuck. This is the first time I put this much time and effort into writing fanfiction. Originally it was wayyy longer but I wanted to split it up and see how this performs first. Honestly not much happens, just Sevika being down bad. Also, I’m trying something new with the way I make my posts but idk if it’s prettier this way. Anyways, enjoy!

Divider from here

MINORS AND MEN DNI

Rock Bottom was a dingy, hole-in-the-wall type of place that had once been the hot spot in Zaun. Now, it was filled by empty stools and wobbly tables. The lights would flicker from time to time, some bulbs giving out before the end of the night.

Sevika and Miguel sat in their usual spot, just as they had done for years. Their families had always been very close, and they had known each other since childhood. When Rock Bottom was in its prime, they would drink themselves stupid on the cheapest booze they could get their hands on. Now, instead of dancing and trying to pick up one night stands, they sat and reminisced about their youngest years. The loud music and chatter were gone, substituted by an almost heavy silence only interrupted by the occasional clanking of glasses or muffled conversations.

Sevika had already downed a drink before Miguel arrived. She had been desperate to meet up with him. Miguel seemed to be the only constant in her life. The new weight on her shoulders was suffocating. Sevika felt responsible for continuing Silco’s legacy while also taking care of Jinx, who had taken in a kid herself somehow. Neither of those tasks were easy to accomplish.

Those who had once been partners seemed to be turning on her one by one, and she felt the need to always keep an eye on the girls. Jinx seemed to be dealing with things fairly well, but after so many years Sevika knew better. There was always calm before the storm. She was always in high alert, waiting for something to go wrong, which happened more often than she’d liked.

On top of that, Sevika had just started getting used to the new mechanical arm that Jinx had built for her. Some everyday tasks, like holding a glass or opening a door, proved to be very difficult now. She had broken at least half a dozen of glasses in the past two weeks either from squezimg them to hard or not gripping them tightly enough. Sevika had been forcing herself to use her right hand, which felt clumsy after not being used for so long. Still, it was the safer option.

Sevika grabbed the half full glass of whiskey with her non-dominant hand and downed it all at once. She could feel the alcohol burning its way down, hoping that it would drown out everything else, at least for a bit.

“If these walls could talk…”said Miguel, recalling all the anecdotes that had taken place there.

Sevika barely heard him, her eyes fixated on you. You were wearing a short, form fitting dress that hugged every curve. When you walked, your whole body jiggled.

In Zaun, being big was almost a sign of wealth. It meant you had enough to eat well. Sevika took pride in her body, for her it showed how far she had come. She could afford to eat well enough to maintain her muscles.

Sevika also loved the contrast of being with someone softer, the feeling of their plush curves against her angular and solid body. Sevika could almost imagine how you would feel on top of her, your soft thighs pressing her sides, your belly and breasts on full display. She wanted to run her hands through every inch of your body, using your rolls to pull you closer and closer.

Sevika almost startled herself has those thoughts ran through her mind. She had too many things on her mind, sex or arousal hadn’t been a priority for a while. Her libido had always been high, but her schedule had been too tight as of late to accommodate it.

Sevika spent her days at work and her nights with Jinx and Isha, who, after much insistence, had practically moved into Sevika’s place, staying over at least three times a week. In an effort to keep Isha away from danger, Sevika took it upon herself to look after her while Jinx worked on new projects. Most nights, she was exhausted, her back aching more often than not. If she had any energy left in her, Sevika would try to catch up with friends or go for a drink with other associates, not because she enjoyed it, but because she wanted to stay informed.

She hadn’t visited the brothel in about a month. Now that everything had settled a bit, Sevika had started to feel the effects of her unintentional abstinence. The sight of you reawakened a hunger that had been missing for a while.

You approached Miguel from the side, wide smile across your face. You placed a hand on the table, leaning slightly forward, towards Miguel. Sevika started at your cleavage, noticing any subtle movement of your breast while you greeted Miguel.

“Damn, didn’t expect to see you here”Miguel said cheerfully ”come, have a drink with us”

“I’d love to, but I’m all out of cash for the night”you said”Just wanted to say hi”

“Come on”insisted Miguel”One more round won’t ruin you!”

“Seriously, I can’t”you said, shaking your head from side to side.

Sevika couldn’t pull her eyes away from your body. It just had something special, magnetic. It was almost like an instinct. She wanted to have you. No reason or hesitation. You hadn’t noticed her yet, too caught up giggling as Miguel tried to convince you to stay.

“Next round’s on me”said Sevika, her voice directed at you for the first time.

Her voice caught you off guard. You knew who she was, who wouldn’t? She was Silco’s right hand back when he was running things. Now, with him gone, she had taken over, hand in hand with his daughter. Miguel had talked to you about her, mostly when telling you stories about his youth. She seemed to be in all of them. You had heard how she could take down multiple men as if it was nothing, or break chairs in half as if they were made of twigs. You thought she was probably the coolest woman of all of Zaun.

“Have a seat”said Sevika.

And with that, you moved to sit down at Miguel’s other side, just in front of her. She followed the movement of your hips as you took a seat. Sevika tried to get a peek at your thighs discreetly, barely resisting the urge to stare . The way your dress rode up slightly while your thighs covered the whole chair made her heart go slightly faster. Further up, she noticed the soft curve of your belly, round and inviting, the kind of place Sevika would love to rest her head on. She imagined having her hands around your belly, her nails almost digging into your flesh while you were on top of her. Sevika forced her gaze towards your face, pushing those thoughts away. You smiled softly when she made eye contact, making her heart stutter.

Sevika tried to play it cool, stealing glances at you from time to time. Beneath her poker face, Sevika was almost jittery. The way your body shook with laughter, how your lips wrapped around the rim of the glass every time you took a sip, the sweetness of your voice. All of it was messing with her head, the lust your body created overcoming most of her brainpower. She was silent for most of the conversation, adding some comments here and there. Sevika hated how easily her mind slipped into desire around your body. You weren’t doing anything special, yet her imagination was spinning out of control.

“You know, JJ told me he has some good new stuff. He’s coming over later”you mentioned, then turned to Sevika”y’all can come by if you want”

“That sounds good”added Sevika, earning a strange look from Miguel.

“I heard it’s pretty strong, mixed with something exotic”commented Miguel.

Sevika knew that JJ’s “good new stuff” would be some kind of genetically modified strain of weed. He would try to manipulate the plant to get stronger, better weed as a hobby, chasing the perfect high. Sevika didn’t smoke weed anymore, hadn’t for more than a decade. She just consumed shimmer now, and Miguel knew it. Still, she was intrigued by you, not the weed. Something about you made her want to linger, even if your presence made her feel like a fool for staring. Sevika wanted more time with you.

It didn’t take long for you to leave. You thanked Sevika for the drinks and said goodbye before getting up, showing her your smile one last time. Sevika’s eyes were fixated on your has you walked away. The way your wide hips moved from side to side with every step and how you ass moved were just the last nail in the coffin. Sevika knew she needed you as she tightened her grip on the glass.

You were a bit flirty around Sevika because she was undeniably attractive, but you doubted she saw you the same way. You didn’t hate your looks, but you felt like you were nothing to write home about, just average. Sevika probably had multiple women throwing themselves at her already. You didn’t think you would stand out. Still, Sevika seemed interesting and a good friend from what Miguel had told you, albeit a bit more reserved than you had expected.

“So… how do you know her?”asked Sevika once you had exited the building.

“We used to be coworkers”Miguel answered.

“Coworkers, uh…”Sevika repeated absent minded.

“You fancy her, don’t you?”

That question caught Sevika off guard, pausing mid sip. Had she been that obvious?

“I mean, she’s just your type”added Miguel, watching her reaction.

“I don’t have a type”Sevika scoffed.

Sevika had been with a lot of women before. Tall, short, big, small, light skinned, dark skinned, long hair, short hair, hybrid. She had been with all kinds of woman, but her preference remained. Bigger women always caught her eye first. Sevika wouldn’t brush off the smaller women that hit on her, but she wouldn’t go up to them either. Still, Miguel didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever”Miguel said, taking a sip” you haven’t smoked weed in, what, 15 years? but she brings it up and all of a sudden it sounds good?”

Miguel had a sly grin across his face. He enjoyed teasing Sevika. She stayed silent for a bit because Miguel was right. She didn’t have a good comeback. Sevika exhaled sharply, irritated.

“She and JJ are nice, that’s all”Sevika said.

“Sure thing”said Miguel, shiteating grin still imprinted on his face.

On the way to your place, Sevika was unusually restless, thoughts and heart racing. She wasn’t used to feeling that way, nor did she like it.

When Sevika and Miguel arrived, the room was filled with smoke, all windows closed. The scent was trapped, pungent, yet pleasant, slightly sweeter than usual. With the celling light off, the living room was illuminated by a few candles and a lamp. JJ lounged on the armchair while you were sat on a tiny couch in front of him, passing the joint back and forth. The coffee table between you was cluttered. A few lighters, a pack of filters, a pack of rolling papers, a grinder. And in the center a big, round bowl full of dried, pinkish leaves, JJ’s new project.

You smiled as Sevika sat by your side, your eyes redder than before.

“Here, glad you could make it” you said handing Sevika the blunt.

During the night, Sevika watched you with no caution. You figured she was zoning out, after all, JJ’s batch had turned out to be very strong. She had complimented your necklace and earrings earlier, so you didn’t think anything of her looking in that general direction.

But really, Sevika was taking in every detail of your lips and your neck, taking full advantage of her closeness. Her eyes fixated on your lips while you took a drag, the tip of the joint glowing, a faint stain of lipstick left around the filter. Then you would exhale, shaping your lips into an “O” that made them look plumper as the smoke dissipated around you.

Further down, your neck was adorned with a necklace that once shone, but had since adopted a dull, spotty pinkish color. Real silver or gold was expensive, so you just settled for what you could get. Sevika felt the urge to change that. Someone as beautiful as you deserved jewelry that wouldn’t tarnish, something that would last.

You weren’t the most discreet either. You knew she was older, around Miguel’s age, but that didn’t deter you that night. Alcohol and weed made you frisky on their own, together they made you downright horny. Having a woman like Sevika near you wasn’t helping the situation.

For all you knew, Sevika was the type to be bold, going after what she wanted. If she found you attractive, she probably would have made a move by now, right?. Still, you leaned on her more than you would with others, your legs touching hers and your hand going on her bicep every time you laughed. With each touch, Sevika would almost stop breathing, tensing up a bit under your hand. She wasn’t fond of physical affection for the most part, but yours was different. Nobody had really touched her like that in a long time. Sevika was surprised to find that she didn’t mind it, even liked it.

Your eyes kept drifting to her metallic arm . It was a big, probably heavy, metal structure covered in doodles. Sevika didn’t seem like the type to decorate things in that way, but Jinx and Isha were. Isha had taken to doodling in Sevika’s arm when she took it off or was distracted. Sevika would act grumpy when she caught the little girl in the act, but her heart melted looking at every little thing drawn on it and she wore it with pride. And, when Jinx repaired or updated Sevika’s arm, it would come back with at least one new drawing around it.

As you adjusted your position to get more comfortable, Sevika couldn’t help but look at your thighs. By that point you were fairly intoxicated, your moves a bit messy. She just kept staring as your dress rode up, showing a few centimeters of your plain grey underwear, dark, short hairs peeking through the sides. It was barely anything, but she felt the heat raising up. Sdvika clenched her jaw, forcing her eyes away from you. She felt worse than a fucking perv, getting riled up over just that. But she couldn’t help herself. She wondered how soft your pussy would be, probably as soft as the rest of you. Her eyes went back for a second peek. The thought of burying her head in between your thighs made her clear her throat.

Then you leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder as if it were natural. Sevika hesitated for a few seconds before wrapping her flesh arm around your shoulders. She knew nothing smart would come out of her mouth that far into the night, so she let the gesture speak for itself. Miguel flashed her a slight, knowing smile. Sevika ignored him, instead running her fingers up and down your soft upper arm, waiting to see your reaction.

You weren’t really paying attention, your eyes closing every couple of minutes because it felt just right, as if you were meant to do it. It was just so pleasant that you drifted off to sleep without even noticing. Sevika only noticed when Miguel and JJ started talking in a softer voice. She had been too busy thinking about what she would say or do to you based on your reaction to notice that your breathing got heavier, faint snores coming out of your mouth. Soon enough, Miguel made up some flimsy excuse for him and JJ to leave. It was just the two of you now.

Sevika tried to stay as still as possible, not wanting to wake you up. Her heart was going way too fast for no good reason. She just had someone sleeping on her shoulder, no big deal. Except, it was you. Sevika just stared at your face. Eyes closed, mouth half open, chest raising and lowering rhythmically. You looked at peace, probably having a very deep sleep fueled by the drugs consumed. Sevika still didn’t know what her next move would be. Ultimately she just sat there, enjoying your warmth against her.

Eventually, Sevika had to go to the bathroom. She shifted slowly, trying to slip from under you without waking you. Sevika moved around you as if you were some kind of bomb that could detonate at any moment. As she finally got on her feet, a slight grin appeared on her face, almost proud for not waking you up. That dissipated the second Sevika came back into the living room to find you sitting up on the couch, groggy but awake. Sevika sighed softly, then explained where JJ and Miguel had gone. You only hummed, reaching towards the table.

“Guess I’ll roll another one for us, then”you said, matter or factly.

Sevika watched your hands while you rolled the joint slowly. Neither of you seemed to be in a hurry.

Sevika had been quiet for most of the night. You figured she was the type to listen rather than talk. You decided to take matters into your hands and just started asking her questions. She humored you, sharing stories about her childhood antics. In turn, you launched into your own memories. You would always ramble on and on when you were intoxicated, jumping between slightly related topics. After a while, you decided to call it a night. Sevika was exhausted by then, ready to crash into bed for a couple of hours before heading to work. Still, she didn’t mind staying over for a bit more. You weren’t just easy on the eyes, you were easy to be around.

Before Sevika walked out of your home, you hugged her, thanking her for coming over. Sevika almost blushed, caught off guard by your body pressing into hers. You squished her tightly, while she hesitated before just lightly patting your back and awkwardly wrapping her arms around you, stiff as a stick. On her way home, all she could think about was your touch. You, on the other hand, thought you had made her uncomfortable, maybe gotten too close for her comfort. After all, you had only known each other for a couple hours.

That night, your hug kept replaying on Sevika’s mind. She wished she could go back in time and tighten her arms around you, explore every inch of your body with her hands while kissing along your face and neck. Sevika needed to touch somebody and be touched again. It had been just way too long for her and your body was calling to her.

When her hand made its way down in between her legs, she was already wet. With a sigh, Sevika’s fingers pressed against her clit and rubbed it with urgency while she closed her eyes, trying to remember every detail of your body. She imagined you on top of her face, feeling the pressure of your whole body weight in her while your thighs caged her in, heath and softness overwhelming her. Sevika whimpered, bitting her lower lip until she was finally relieved.

While she changed her sheets, an uncomfortable feeling washed over her. She felt ridiculous, like a horny teenager, getting off just thinking about your thighs and cleavage. As the embarrassment started to settle in, Sevika knew one thing for sure: you had something special.

[seijorhi]

Bite

Selkie Miya Osamu x female reader

tw: blood and gore, yandere, hard vore (not reader), noncon, nsfw-ish

Fairy & Rhi's Big Bad Valentines Event ~ Here there be monsters

“Are you ever going to come in?”

Kana shrugs, hunched over on the edge of the pier, knees pulled to her chest. She doesn’t look at you when she speaks – her attention’s wholly fixed on the male figure lazily gliding through the water a few feet away. “I’m good here.”

Slate-brown eyes peer back, flitting between you. Appraising you both. 

A twitch of his lips and he ducks below the surface. Kana stiffens, but you, you know this game. Like a bullet, he shoots his lean, streamlined body towards you, mouth open wide, sharp teeth bared – your heart stutters instinctively, breath caught in your chest – only to divert at the last second, curling to loop around. 

Not for the first time, you reach a hand out as he glides past, let your fingers stroke along the soft, spotted fur of his tail. Softer than it has any right to be. You shiver, a smile lighting your face, and in turn you’re rewarded with a trilling warble as he circles you again and rises to the surface, this time belly up, one arm stretched back behind his head, the other resting over his pale stomach – an oddly human pose. 

“Leopard seals have killed humans before, I googled it,” your cousin says. “They’re dangerous and aggressive. The smart thing to do would be to leave it and give him a wide berth, not play together in the ocean like it’s a dolphin at SeaWorld.”

He glides closer, nudging himself against you and grabbing your hand in his to place it on his belly, just above his fur. 

“One, he’s not a leopard seal, and two, it’s been over a week, don’t you think that if felt threatened by us or wanted to attack, he would’ve by now?” A light nip at your shoulder and you laugh, snatching your hand back. “Osamu’s friendly.”

Kana’s eyes narrow, sparking with irritation. “Just because you gave it a name, doesn’t make it human,” she mutters, like she thinks you’re an idiot. “We don’t know enough for you to be making any kind of a judgement call over whether it’s docile or not. I just don’t want you getting hurt. Animals turn on people all the time.”

“He’s not an animal.” But it’s pointless, because you’ve had this talk before. She’ll tell you you’re being reckless and stupid, you’ll tell her she’s being a buzzkill. “And Samu’s a he, not an it. I think he’s beautiful.”

As if he can understand you, his chest rumbles in agreement, chuffing. You fight back a grin. 

From the navel up, he could pass for human. A lithe, lean torso. Hooded, dark eyes that glimmer with intelligence, a strong jaw. Silvery-brown hair that matches the sleek fur on the top-side of his tail. Even his teeth, too sharp and jagged, breaking the illusion when he grins, send a strange sort of thrill through you. He’s always careful with them when you play – nipping, never biting. 

“We should at the very least tell someone,” she scowls, rolling her eyes.

You won’t, though, and she knows that. They’d hunt him down and take him away, lock him up somewhere to study, never to swim free again, and if they somehow don’t manage to catch him, you can’t imagine he’ll ever come back. Selfishly, you don’t want that either. 

“Kana–”

But you don’t get more than that before his hand snares your wrist and you’re yanked underwater.

The world turns hazy blue, a burst of bubbles – a cry of surprise – rushing from your lips. You blink rapidly against the sting of saltwater, trying to reorient yourself, to fight your way back to the surface, but Osamu’s there, his other arm curled around your waist, pulling you to him, keeping you from rising.

The two of you spin, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes open, boring into you as you slowly, desperately, run out of air, thrashing in his arms. The edges of your vision begin to darken, your body screaming for fresh air. There’s a splash nearby, a noise that warbles underwater, but your head’s pounding, the lack of oxygen becoming critical. 

And still, you and Osamu dance. 

Without conscious thought, your lips parts, ready to force a mouthful of seawater into your lungs when his mouth crashes against yours. Osamu exhales, and you breathe, greedily gulping it down.

For what feels like a lifetime, he holds you there, mouth melded to his, breathing for you.

And then, his hold loosens. He catches your lower lip between his teeth and gently nips at it, smirking as you struggle against him, but he doesn’t stop you from shoving your way out of his arms and kicking for the surface. 

The first breath of fresh air is dizzying in its rush. 

You choke on it, halfway to a sob, and spin frantically to get your bearings. The pier is less than thirty feet away, but that might as well be a mile. Your energy’s sapped, limbs leaden and heavy. You’re going to need help to the shore, you need–

The pier’s empty. 

Kana.

Panic rips through you.

You dive before you can think better of it, before your tired muscles can scream in protest. You’re met with a haze of red. Blood.

Osamu had always been so careful with his teeth around you. They’re sharp. Jagged. Designed to cut through flesh and tear muscle from bone. A blur of grey darts through the water, and you watch as his mouth opens, jaw stretched wide like he does when he’s playing with you.

This time, he doesn’t swerve from the flailing body in his path. . 

His teeth sink in, hands grabbing her by the shoulders for better leverage, and you watch through horrified eyes as he rips a chunk from her neck and chews.

—

You’re lying on something smooth. Silky. Furry?Warm, despite the cool air licking at your damp skin. Outside, you think. On a beach? The air smells of salt, and if you focus, you think you can hear the waves lapping at the shore.

And you’re moving. Rocking back and forth in little jolts, a pain between your legs like a dull ache. Your neck throbs, pounding with every thud of your heart.

You’re so tired. Your whole body hurts.  

You should open your eyes, but that feels like too much effort. A whimper slips past your lips and there’s a brush of something soft against your forehead, a weird cooing noise you’re too out of it to place.

Your fingers twitch. The darkness coaxes, warm and soft and gentle. 

A problem for later, you think.

[laambfuzz]

—- cat and mouse. ft schlatt. ᝰ

summary: after schlatt's audio, you had to make it known you had discovered it. all goes well and you think you finally have the upper hand, until you log back onto soundgasm to see a surprise waiting for you.

— tags: smut, lunch club!schlatt, mutual masturbation.. technically?, schlatt does porn (duh), dirty talk, degradation and light praise, open ending.. again

authors note: happy valentines my loves!! wanted to treat you with a longer post and hoped to get this out for the 14th for you all (it's still the 14th for me, so!) whether you celebrated it with someone or not, you've got some pornstar!schlatt to help you with the day. once again, credit to @fanficfox who started this lovely idea.♡

schlatt had finally came back to streaming, after a few days off

and you were going to take tonight as your chance to get him back in this game of cat and mouse you had been playing

you lurked in chat for a while, letting the stream run by as normal. you wanted to wait a little, before inevitably pouncing your prey

and so when he had mentioned a bathroom break, you decided it was your time to strike

you got your donation amount and message ready for him returning, your index finger hovering over your mouse. you wanted to get the donation in as soon as possible, before others started to do the same

you heard the clambering of schlatt almost falling into his room, drawing your attention back to the screen as he sat back on his chair, announcing his return

your finger hit the donation button instantly, and now you just had to wait for the payment to confirm, and for tts to pick up your message

it took a minute, but finally the tts bot spoke up and announced your message

"i can't believe i was soaked a few nights ago, and it was all your fault. tsk tsk, big guy."

schlatts face contorts into one of shock, face turning to his other monitor as he tried to catch who sent the donation

as soon as he saw your name he felt a shiver go through his spine

but he changed his facial expression to one of disgust, shaking his head and murmuring a "what the fuck?" to act like it was just a random thirst comment

but he knew it was more than that, and so did you

chat was on schlatt's side of course, calling out the weirdness of the donation and noticing how uncomfy schlatt had gotten

then another donation pinged through, schlatt's eyes darting to the screen to see if it was from you

and it was

"you made a bet that it was going to rain last stream, and it did."

chat is suddenly spamming OMEGALUL's and KEKW's, laughing at the misconception but still shocked at how the last donation was worded

schlatt swallowed thickly, letting out a heavy sigh as he felt relief. relief from what? he didn't know, but somehow chat not caring made him feel hidden, still

"what, were you thinking of something else? fucking pervs."

the last donation comes through, and chat just continues to laugh. they assume it's at them, and that's what you wanted

but once again, you and schlatt knew it was more than that

schlatt sent somewhat of a glare to the camera, and you felt his dark eyes peering right through you

but you felt a thrill of excitement at the same time, happy to have one-upped him after a few nights ago

however, you really weren't expecting him to get you back so soon

you got into bed later that night and had your phone already loaded onto schlatt's soundgasm page, and that's when you seen it

a new video had been uploaded tonight— desperate little thing

a heat suddenly started to pool in your belly as you read the title, and you clicked on it instantly

your free hand trailed under the covers, nudging your underwear to the side as your middle and index fingers grazed your clit

you press the start button and you're instantly greeted with a dark, low chuckle

"bet you thought you were real clever, huh sweetheart? thought you could try tease me like that and get away with it?"

a whine leaves your throat at his voice, the fact it's condescending and so much lower than you usually hear on stream

you hear a scoff, a creak of the chair before his breath is suddenly hitting the mic

he breathes deeply into the mic for a few moments, his breath hitching occasionally so you can only imagine he's once again stroking himself on the other end

"pathetic fuckin' donation messages, is what they were," he starts, inhaling through his nose before heavily exhaling. "could tell how needy you were. wanted me to see so bad you had to give me your fuckin' cash?"

your fingers toyed with your clit before you rubbed slow circles, moaning softly at his low voice, and how he was insulting you

"bet you're already touching yourself, huh? like a filthy fuckin' slut, all because im talkin' down on you," he chuckles dryly, before groaning lowly. "just pathetic. can't keep your hands off yourself when you see me. so- fuck.. so desperate."

and he was right. you were touching yourself, getting even wetter as he spoke down on you, as if you were nothing

if his words were so wrong and mean, why was it making you feel so good?

a sweet moan drops from his lips, and you can hear the wet sounds as he jerks himself off. "but don't you worry, sweetheart. i like my sluts desperate."

and something about that line drove you wild. you felt your face grow hot at the embarrassing whine you let out as he said it, but it's not as if he was here to hear it anyways

your fingers sped up, stroking the circles faster against your clit as you bucked your hips up into your fingers

anything for the extra friction

the audio continued with schlatt talking you through touching yourself, talking about how he's stroking himself and all the lovely groans, pants and grunts that comes with it

suddenly he stops all movement though, and nothing can be heard

"should i finish, hmm? should i let you hear me cum? beg for me slut, c'mon."

and it's so fucking stupid, and you shouldn't beg for an audio file

and yet..

your fingers are slipping downwards, allowing your thumb to take over the role for rubbing your clit, as the other two fingers now slide inside you

"fuck! please— please schlatt, let me— let me hear it. need to hear you— please."

the words fall from your lips without command, pouring right from your heart as you ache to hear him in return, needing to hear as he hits his climax

you hear a long, slow grunt from the audio causing you to gasp and perk up, fingers continuing their work

"i know you're a good slut f'me, letting everyone know how much you need me. and you love it, don't you? love me putting you in your place, over a fuckin' audio file? pathetic."

schlatt lets out a whine as he pants, a shuddering moan escaping him and you can tell he's cumming, judging by the higher moans and faster movements

"come on, fuckin' listen to me. you better cum now sweetheart, i'm telling you."

and as if his words had some control over you, suddenly your whole body was shaking as the orgasm overtook it, and your slick began to soak your fingers

you worked yourself through the orgasm, slowly but surely working down the pace of your fingers and thumb before you slumped into the bed, chest heaving as you closed your eyes, revelling in schlatt's own heavy breathing

"next time— next time you come to play, remember who owns you sweetheart. i'll see you next time, because i'm hoping you'll come back for more," he starts, before he cuts himself off with a chuckle

"who am i kiddin'? of course you'll come crawling back to me, you always do."

[owuwi]

➤ top!teen!shauna x afab!sub!reader

⤷ cw: shauna taking her anger out on reader, mean shauna, bitting, shauna spitting on reader's face, rough fingering, a bit of dumbification, kinda dubcon if you squint..

──────────────────────

Fuck them.

Fuck all of them—fuck Mari, fuck Nat, fuck Tai.

But specially Mari.

If that bitch got mad because of some spit in her soup, then she doesn't even know what Shauna is capable of doing. A week of house arrest as consequence for smashing Mari's face against the ground? She can handle that; after all, she's been through worst.

Shauna wasn't surprised when you ran after her, though, she was hoping you'd do it.

The minute you stepped foot in her shelter, her chapped lips were on yours—kissing you with bruising force, a kiss that would've disgusted you if it wasn't coming from your girlfriend—.

She didn't hesitate to basically throw you onto the floor and climb on top of you, not once separating her lips from yours. Shaky and warm hands quickly slid beneath the dirty clothes you were wearing with raw desperation, dry palms groping every inch of skin they had access to.

"Shauna hold on—" You tried to speak yet it was useless, she wasn't in the mood to talk. "Shut up. I don't want to fucking hear you." She growled the moment she—miraculously—pulled away from the kiss. Her lips then traveled down and hovered over your throat, sharp teeth digging in and bitting you. Hard.

Your scream of pain only fueled that deep hunger she had and she didn't even care if someone heard. Her hands proceeded to pull your shorts and panties down, revealing your cunt.

Her fingers found your clit and started drawing quick, harsh circles on the bud—her teeth still holding onto the sensitive skin of your neck with enough strength to cause you to bleed.

"Fucking bitch... i'll give her something to be mad about..." She babbled against your flesh—clearly talking about Mari—, a mix of her saliva and your blood now beginning to dribble down and stain your shirt.

Suddenly, her fingers brushed against your folds before dipping past your hole, not wasting a second before she started sliding them in and out of you—not caring if you weren't wet enough—. Despite the burning feeling the invasion of her digits were causing you, you couldn't help but feel a hint of pleasure.

Shauna could beat the life out of you and you'd still like it.

"She can't handle some spit mhm? What a fucking moron.." She rambled, though she pulled her mouth away from your neck after finishing her sentence—no longer slobbering all over you—. "You can, though, right?" She abruptly asked you yet didn't wait for your answer before she spat right on the middle of your face.

The feeling of her warm, thick saliva splattering all over your face immediately caused a whine to slip past your lips, your hips unconsciously bucking against her fingers—the tip of her digits lightly pressing against that spongey spot that turned you dumb—.

Shauna didn't care if you responded or not, she simply kept talking—knowing you were listening. "Yeah you can, you always take everything i give you..." She whispered, her breath coming in short puffs while she sped up her fingers.

The vulgar act of her spitting on you made your pussy wetter than it has ever been—gods, you loved it when Shauna went feral on you.

It was now easier for her long fingers to thrust into you; the lewd, squelching sounds your cunt made as it swallowed her digits were loud enough for the other girls to hear—yet once again, she didn't care.

It didn't take long before you started to tighten around her, her strokes becoming sloppier as your arousal slowly traveled down your thighs. Your hand wrapped around her forearm as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the combination of her fingerfucking you and talking to you like that making your brain fuzzy.

"S-Shauna..." You whined out her name, your back arching off the cold floor and your hand gripping her forearm rougher than before.

Shauna being Shauna just couldn't get enough of you—she needed more; more of your sounds, of your reactions, and she knew how to get them.

Slowly, she added a third finger into your spasming hole; the sight of you jolting and moaning being the reason for her smirk.

Was it too much? Definitely. Yet, for some reason, the pain felt too good.

"Take it, i know you can." She told you—almost commanding you—before leaning down and messily kissing you again while she stretched you out.

Before you could warn her, your body shook. A loud, breathy moan erupted from your throat as your orgasm hit you like a damn train. Whimpering against her mouth, you couldn't help but trash around beneath her as your walls fluttered against her fingers—the stimulation you were receiving causing tears to swell up in the corner of your eyes.

The brown-eyed girl's problems immediately faded away as you came. Even with how rough she was being, you were the most important thing in her life—the only thing she had left. You knew how to make her feel better and the best part was that you didn't even need to do anything.

She dragged her lips away from yours and pressed them all over your face, leaving a wet trail in their path, before slowly pulling her fingers out of your drooling pussy.

Shauna will get back at them one of these days—she'll make them regret treating her like shit—, but not today.

Right now, you were all that mattered.

[matsuyorific]

From what I understand from the show, Anarka and Jagged got together around the start of their career, and were a couple act. Sometimes around when the twins were born, Jagged's career started taking off. Anarka felt like Jagged cared more about his music than his family, so she took the kids and left without telling him.

It's not really clear if they were every married or not. Most likely Jagged continued working while Anarka was taking it easy through her pregnancy. Especially if they were already signed with Bob Roth, whom we can easily imagine wanting to promote the more manageable Jagged, and not the hard headed Anarka. This is all speculation, but it's possible that Bob also pushed Anarka out of the group, thinking no one would want to see a pregnant woman on stage.

Jagged doesn't strike me as someone who hates his family. Nothing he does or says in the show hints at this at all. From what he's said in the show, he makes it sound like he didn't want Anarka to leave with the twins. That he wanted to be their dad, but was also trying to make it as a musician. Sure, he didn't balance well and put more focus on his music, but he genuinely seemed to care about his kids.

When he's confronted by Truth, he doesn't even make excuses like "I was too busy" or "your mom wouldn't let me." He says "I was too lame to be a parent." This is still an excuse, but it's one made out of the belief that he can't be the parent he knows his kids to be. His decision was made based on what he felt was best for his kids.

However, Anarka also thought it best he not be around. She kept his identity from the twins, and wouldn't let Jagged come by. So it's not even completely Jagged's fault he wasn't there. This is actually pretty common irl, where divorced parents will try to make their kids take sides. In Anarka's case, she refused to tell her kids about their father, so that they wouldn't even have a choice. Then when Jagged finally reunites with them, she still insists he has nothing to do with them. Even with Jagged there, trying to be in his kid's life, she's still so insistent that he leave.

This isn't to say it's 100% Anarka's fault. She still has a lot of hurt feelings she needs to let go of, but those hurt feelings don't come from nowhere. While her logic was flawed, she still tried to do her best for her kids. She was so desperate to keep her kids from feeling the same hurt she'd felt, that she'd ended up hurting everyone else in the process. Including herself.

Young Anarka

I dunno… Like

Her past intrigued me the most out of all the adult characters, and I can't understand her mix with Jagged. Like, he cheated on her and she got pregnant? They had an open relationship? Or did they only share intimacy? Why did she never tell her kids about their father? And why didn't their father pay child support lmao…

[heliosunny]

tysm for filling in the void for yan mydei im so full just by reading through ur works ugh

more yan is always welcomed but like the plot twist is that it's reader that's the yan and mydei knows and likes it like some guy warns him about ur misdeeds and he's like 'yeah i know, got a problem with that?' listen im just deep into mutual toxic lovers okay thank u for coming to my ted talk keep writing stay hydrated mwap

Mydei x Yandere!Reader

At first, Mydei was just another face in the crowd, one more person who basked in the admiration of others, soaking up attention like it was his birthright.

And you? You acted like you couldn't care less.

When he flashed that charming smile, you barely glanced his way. When he teased, when he toyed, when he played his little games with those around him, you only met him with flat indifference, as if he were nothing special. As if he didn’t matter.

But inside, deep down, where no one could see, you were watching.

You noticed everything. The way he moved, the way his presence filled a room, the way he always seemed so confident, so untouchable. The way others chased him like desperate moths to a flame. It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. You wanted to be the only one who saw him, the only one who truly understood him.

But you couldn’t show that.

So instead, you let him think you were unaffected. You played the part of the one who simply tolerated his presence, the one who didn’t crumble under his charm. And, strangely enough, that was what caught his interest.

Because Mydei had seen admiration before. He had seen obsession, longing, love. But he had never seen someone like you—someone who met him without worship, without expectation.

That was when he started watching you.

At first, it was subtle—lingering glances, idle curiosity. Then it grew. He found himself searching for you in every room, noting the way you reacted (or didn’t) when he spoke. He tested your patience, pushed at your boundaries, just to see what you would do.

And when he finally realized the truth—when he caught that single moment where your mask cracked, when he saw the way your eyes lingered a little too long, the way your fingers twitched when someone else got too close—he smiled.

Because you were different. And that was why he loved you.

The confession came suddenly, without warning.

“I want you” Mydei had said one evening, his voice soft but certain. “You’re the only one who’s ever really seen me.”

You had scoffed, played it off like it meant nothing. "So? What do you expect me to do about it?"

His gaze didn’t waver. "Stay with me."

And that was how it started.

Your relationship was complicated, tangled in sharp edges and unspoken truths. Mydei was possessive, but he never needed to be—because you weren’t going anywhere. You watched him, he watched you, a game of quiet obsession played in the shadows.

So when some fool approached Mydei one day, warning him about you, he only chuckled.

"Obsessed?" he echoed, amusement dancing in his voice. "You act like that’s a bad thing."

After all, love meant never having to let go.

It started with whispers.

A nervous glance here, a hushed murmur there. People had always gossiped, always speculated about your relationship with Mydei, but lately, the tension had shifted. It was no longer just idle curiosity or petty jealousy. No, this was something else.

Fear.

The first warning came from a former admirer of Mydei’s, a trembling voice layered with concern.

"Mydei, I know you might not believe me, but they’re dangerous" she said, wringing her hands together. "They don’t just push people away—they get rid of them. Anyone who gets too close to you just… disappears."

Mydei tilted his head, fingers resting against his chin. "Is that so?"

She nodded quickly, relieved that he was listening. "Yes! I—I don’t think you realize just how deep this goes. I even heard that—"

He cut her off with a lazy smile. "And?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Why did that concern you?"

Her mouth opened and closed, as if struggling to process his response. "They’re obsessed with you! Aren’t you—aren’t you scared?"

"Should I be?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, if someone was willing to burn the world down for you… wouldn’t that be just a little bit romantic?"

The girl paled, taking a shaky step back. Mydei only laughed as she hurried away.

The second warning came from someone bolder.

"Mydei, listen to me," a man muttered, grabbing his wrist firmly. "That person you’re with? They’re unhinged. They have people watching you. I—I overheard them threatening someone just for looking at you the wrong way."

Mydei arched a brow. "And?"

The man’s grip tightened. "Don’t you get it? They’re dangerous."

A slow smirk spread across Mydei’s lips. "Good."

The man flinched, his expression shifting from urgency to something wary. "You… you knew?"

Mydei sighed, shaking his head. "Of course I knew. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?" His fingers pried the man’s hand off his wrist, his grip just a little too firm. "Tell me, do you think I look like someone who lets things slip past me?"

The man swallowed hard, but before he could say anything else, Mydei turned away, waving him off as if he were nothing more than a passing nuisance.

The warnings kept coming. People muttering in corridors, exchanging uneasy glances when they thought Mydei wasn’t looking.

They all seemed to think they were telling him some grand secret. That he was blind.

But Mydei had never been blind.

He knew exactly what kind of person you were.

And that was exactly why he stayed.

Mydei was no stranger to being watched. Admired, even. He knew the weight of lingering stares, the way people’s eyes followed him with thinly veiled longing. It was expected, predictable.

But your gaze? That was something else entirely.

He felt it before he even saw you.

It was late afternoon when he paused in the palace gardens, ignoring the meaningless chatter of nobles flitting around him. A faint rustle overhead had his lips curving into a smirk. Subtle to most—but not to him.

Ah. There you were.

Perched on a tree branch like a shadow, watching him with that same unreadable intensity you always had.

The noblewoman beside him prattled on about something inconsequential, but Mydei wasn’t listening. His focus had already shifted. He barely spared the woman a glance before turning on his heel and striding toward the tree, cutting through the manicured hedges without hesitation.

"Ah—Your highness?" The woman’s voice wavered, confused by his abrupt disinterest.

But he was already gone.

You didn’t move as he approached, still as a predator in waiting. Mydei took his time, tilting his head as he peered up at you.

"You know," he mused, amusement lacing his tone, "if you’re going to stalk me, at least put in a little more effort. This is hardly a challenge."

You didn’t dignify that with a response, though your fingers twitched ever so slightly against the bark. Mydei chuckled, stepping closer.

"Are you going to keep watching from up there, or do I have to come and get you myself?"

There was the briefest flicker of movement before you leapt down, landing soundlessly a few feet away. You dusted off your sleeves, leveling him with a blank stare.

"Busy?" you asked, voice flat.

"Not anymore" he said breezily, as if he hadn’t just walked away from an entire crowd to chase after you.

A scoff. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you’re predictable." His smirk widened as he leaned in slightly. "Did you think I wouldn’t notice?"

"You were taking too long."

Mydei let out a delighted laugh. "Impatient, are we?"

You rolled your eyes, but the way you lingered just a little too close, the way your fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to grab him—it was enough to make his blood hum with satisfaction.

"Let’s go somewhere less… public."

You hesitated for only a moment before following.

The nobles and servants who had been watching from afar exchanged looks, whispers passing between them. Some admired the way Mydei always gravitated toward you, the way he smiled so easily in your presence. Others found it unnerving, the intensity between you both—something electric, something dangerous.

But none of them dared to interfere.

Mydei led you through the palace gardens, away from prying eyes. He didn’t need to look back to know you were following. You always did.

That was the fun part.

You never admitted it, never said it outright, but he knew. You were obsessed with him. And, he loved that.

As you walked, his pace slowed until he was just beside you. "You know," he mused, voice light, "most people try to get my attention by speaking to me. But I suppose lurking in trees works too."

"Maybe if you weren’t surrounded by idiots all the time, I wouldn’t have to."

Mydei let out a delighted hum. "Jealous?"

You didn’t answer.

Which meant yes.

He grinned, shifting closer, until his shoulder nearly brushed against yours. "you could always just say you want me to yourself."

"I don’t care what you do"

"You're bad at lying" Mydei sing-songed, clearly entertained.

You huffed, but Mydei only smirked, pleased. He knew how to push, how to tug at the threads of your carefully composed exterior until they frayed just enough to amuse him.

After a few moments of silence, Mydei spoke again, this time more thoughtful. "You know, someone tried to warn me about you again today."

"Is that so?"

He turned to face you fully, walking backward without a care. "Apparently, you’re dangerous."

"Are you scared?"

Mydei chuckled, stepping even closer. "You tell me."

"You really don’t care, do you?"

Mydei’s grin widened. "Would I still be here if I did?"

Your lips parted slightly, and for a second, Mydei thought you might actually say something real. But instead, you scoffed and looked away.

"Tch. Idiot."

"Possessive" Mydei countered smoothly.

You shot him a glare, but he only laughed, unbothered as always.

It started with small things like a glance that lingered too long, a conversation cut too short. People who used to approach Mydei freely now hesitated, their smiles more forced, their words more cautious.

At first, he found it amusing. You were possessive—he had always known that.

But then, things began to shift.

The first real incident was at a banquet.

A noblewoman, a foreign dignitary, all fluttering lashes and saccharine words had taken an interest in him. Nothing unusual. Mydei had entertained her with easy conversation, just enough to be polite.

And then he saw you.

Standing at the edge of the room, watching.

When he met your eyes, you tilted your head slightly, as if waiting. He excused himself from the noblewoman’s company without thinking. His feet carried him toward you before he could question why.

“You’re being ridiculous..” he murmured when he reached you.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. The way your gaze flicked over his shoulder, where the noblewoman still lingered, was enough.

The next morning, the woman abruptly cut her stay short and left the palace without explanation.

People murmuring about how she had seemed shaken, about how she had refused to speak of why she was leaving.

He didn’t ask you about it.

But that wasn’t the last time.

More people began avoiding him. Conversations ended when he entered a room. Some courtiers wouldn’t even meet his gaze anymore.

And every time, when he turned to look at you, he found you already watching.

“You’re being too much.” he finally told you one evening.

You didn’t flinch. “Too much for what?”

“For them.” Mydei gestured vaguely. “You’re scaring people off.”

“Good.”

He frowned. “That’s not—”

“Do you want them?”

The question was quiet, but it made his breath catch.

You were standing too close now, eyes dark, expression unreadable. The air felt heavier, like a trap he hadn’t realized he’d stepped into.

You weren’t touching him, but he felt caged all the same.

“…No” he admitted.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He let out a slow breath, forcing a smirk onto his lips. “You’re suffocating, you know that?”

“You like it.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

And maybe that was the worst part.

---

Mydei woke to darkness.

His mind was sluggish, limbs heavy. The faint scent of something cloying still lingered at the back of his throat—something sweet.His wrists ached when he moved, the telltale tightness of silk restraints biting into his skin. He was sitting, legs spread, posture relaxed but utterly bound.

A chuckle bubbled up from his throat. “Really?” His voice was hoarse, still thick with the aftereffects of whatever you had given him.

“You went too far.”

Your voice was steady, but he could hear it—the irritation laced beneath. The anger you rarely let slip.

He should be wary. Should be unsettled by the cold metal dragging along his collarbone, the warning pressure of something sharp just barely pressing into his skin.

But he wasn’t.

Because this? This was new.

And Mydei never could resist a good game.

A sharp pain flared across his cheek—a slap, hard enough to make his head turn. The sting bloomed into heat, skin tingling.

Mydei exhaled slowly. “Ah… so that’s how it is?”

You didn’t respond. He could feel you there, hovering close, your presence a weight against his senses.

Then another hit. His lip split, a sharp copper tang filling his mouth.

His tongue darted out, tasting it.

“You don’t like it when I talk to others, do you?” His voice was almost teasing, but lower, rougher.

Your fingers curled around his throat, tightening just enough to make him swallow.

“Shut up.”

He hummed, not quite a laugh, but close. “Make me.”

Your grip tightened, cutting off his breath for just a moment before releasing.

His pulse thrummed with something heady, something dangerous. He shifted slightly, testing his restraints—not out of a desire to escape, but just to feel the silk dig deeper.

A soft chuckle escaped him. “You think this will make me stop?”

You leaned in, breath hot against his ear. “No” you murmured.

You knew him too well.

Knew that no matter how tight you held him, no matter how hard you tried to break him—

He would always let you.

Because in the end, neither of you wanted to let go.

[muxshwriting]

compelling

Feud-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

summary: Feyd can no longer live with only a portion of his wife and strives to find who she truly is || word count: 948 || masterlist

once again, I have been peer pressured (someone very politely requested) and I am being forced (I wrote this in a peak of artistic inspiration) to publish a third part to voiceless and articulate. Enjoy!

REQUESTED: I've read all your Feyd stories and I love them! Would you please consider doing a continuation of "Articulate" where Feyd is so desperate to win over his wife that he asks her new friends for advice? Thank you.

Ever since you’d postponed your day with him, Feyd had been unable to think of anything else. He couldn’t imagine what else you spent your days doing, what was more important to you than him. As he began craving your presence, he noticed just how much time you spent out of your chambers, elsewhere.

He approached you one evening when you were getting ready for bed. “Y/N?” He stopped calling you ‘Wife’ when he noticed the subtle flinch that accompanied its use. “Where do you spend your days? You always return with such happiness.” He meant nothing by it, a simple observation that you always glowed a little brighter afterwards.

You hesitated before answering, hearing horror stories of what Feyd has done to servants. “I- My handmaiden and some of the other maids, they spend their days teaching me things about our house, about Geidi Prime. I enjoy their company.” You admitted.

Feyd frowned. “Your handmaiden? You’ve been hiding away with your handmaiden all this time?”

“Do not speak of her with such disdain! She is my friend. You will do her no harm or I will never forgive you.”

“What?”

You mistook his confusion for insult. “You heard me-“

“You misunderstand, my love.” That title was a new one. “I am simply surprised. I worried you had filled your time with another lover. That I would not be so kind towards.”

The endearment that slipped from his lips did not escape unnoticed by you and you felt your heart fluttering slightly within your chest. The careless and childish hopes from the beginning on your marriage had the nerve to peek their heads towards daylight and it took all your might to push them back down. He was just a possessive man, claiming what was already his. He could not love you, not the way you wanted him to.

“Oh. No! I would never- I would never take a lover Feyd. I am not a traitor.”

“I- I was not trying to imply-“ It was the first time you had ever heard Feyd be uncertain in anything, stumbling over his words.

He reached out to you and you let him slip your hand into his. His body was mere inches from yours as he stood silently, staring down at you.

“I’m sorry.” It was a murmur of an apology you never thought he was even capable of. “Please tell your handmaiden… thank you from me, for taking care of you.”

Your eyes soften as you take a small step so you’re truly in each other’s space. “I shall pass along your message. Goodnight husband.” There’s a softness behind your words that Feyd hasn’t heard in a while and he’s very grateful for its return.

In the days following your discussion, you and Feyd had minimised some of the distance between you, but not all. There was space Feyd couldn’t cross alone, no matter how much he wanted to. He needed help, aid from someone who knew you far better than he did.

Reluctantly, Feyd made his way down to the servants quarters. He stops silently outside the door, suddenly nervous to enter.

He knocked and your handmaiden opened the door, paling at the sight of the Na-Baron. “My Lord Feyd.” She bowed before him, slipping out into the hallway. “How can I assist you?” Despite your assurance that your husband would never hurt her, your handmaiden still had fear when stood in front of Feyd.

Feyd seemed unsure of himself now that he was stood in front of someone about to ask for their help. “I wish to help my wife.”

“Is the Na-Baroness unwell?”

“She is fine.” Feyd said shortly. “But our marriage…” He does not wish to continue and your handmaiden knows it.

Slyly, she looks him up and down with a knowing look. “It’s called love. She feels it too.”

“She-“ Feyd stopped himself. “She loves me?”

“And you love her. She’s just hesitant to give you all of herself.”

He took a moment to breathe, his head spinning from the realisation that his wife loved him. “I love her…”

“Then tell her that.” Your handmaiden pressed. “Tell her she is loved.”

Heeding your handmaiden’s words, Feyd approached the evening much differently than he normally would. He greeted you as he entered your chambers, a small smile across his face as he offered to help you change and you, surprised, allowed him to.

He couldn’t stop the giddy feeling his heart had when you leant into him as he pulled the pins from your hair. You let yourself lean in, praying that life had finally dealt you the perfect hand.

Beyond either os your notices, you handmaiden had slipped into your chambers, aiming to help you get ready for the evening. But upon seeing your gentle embrace with Feyd, a knowing smile spread across her lips and she turned on her heel to slip back out again. Her shoe brushed against the floor for just a second and you glanced up at her.

Silently, a conversation passes. A frown, a smile, a nod. A look towards Feyd, a glance you made in his direction. He’s aware of all that is going but blissfully choosing to ignore it, his eyes almost slipping shut as he runs his hand down your back and letting it settle at your waist.

No words are exchanged as the evening progresses, but the light touches continue and you never find yourself out of Feyd’s space for more than a second. It isn’t until you’re in bed and wrapped in his arms that you speak.

“Goodnight my love.”

Feyd smiles against you and murmurs the same sentiment back, finally slipping into sleep.

[randomshyperson]

Hi Mary, for the writing game can I request Wanda for hand holding #43 please? Thank you! Hope you overcome your writer’s block soon, I’ll be patiently waiting for your next masterpiece 🥰

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly. | warnings: angst(ish), brief mentions of manipulation of free will (magic mind control stuff), dark!wanda.

"I just need to find the right spell." Wanda began to justify herself, even though you didn't say anything. Her hands remain in yours, while you wipe most of the blood with a wet cloth.

It's most likely due to the adrenaline from the fight leaving her body now that she starts to speak.

"I'll find it, I promise. And all of this will stop. We'll be able to go home." She assures you half-desperately, half-breathlessly. You just nod, in no hurry to finish your task. You like touching Wanda, and she almost never lets you now that the marks from the excessive use of the darkhold are so visible on her fingers.

She starts to cry softly, and then louder. You let her. The blood disappears from her hands, but only visibly. You discard the cloth somewhere in the corner of the room, to intertwine your hands together in your lap, and Wanda gives in to bury her face in your collarbone and soak your blouse with tears.

It doesn't take long for her to calm down, and you wait patiently until she does, a small Sokovian hum escaping your lips.

When she speaks again, despite the hoarse, affected tone of someone who has just cried so hard, there is a firmness and desperation in her voice that makes you frown in concern.

“I’ll make us a family again,” she says. “And all the pain will go away.”

You sigh. Wanda doesn’t tell you things, not really. So you don’t understand everything she means to say when she does. You don't understand why she hurts who she hurts, doesn't remember their faces, or their names. You don't remember why you're running, or when it started. Where you're going, or who you're running from. 

All you remember is to follow her lead.

“I’m not in pain, Wanda,” you murmur, your eyes dropping to her black-stained fingers. “I’m happy with you.”

She sobs softly, but you’re distracted by her hands. Your fingers trace hers, those dark tips of hers before you dare ask, even though she never explains much beyond what she thinks you should know:

“Is this what hurts you?”

She shakes her head first before answering. "No, love, this is just a reminder." You raise your curious eyes to her. 

"Of what?" 

"Of the monster that I am." You frown, and Wanda offers you a sad smile. She makes mention of pulling her hands away, but you tighten your grip. She looks ready to protest when you lift one of them to your face, to kiss her open palm and draw a sigh from her. "What are you doing, my love?" She whispers, watching as you run your lips over every inch of her skin. Open palms, and fingertips, not caring about the dark magic stains. Not knowing what they mean. Before repeating the same gesture, on the other hand, you let her know; 

"I love every part of you. Even the parts you think are bad. Unworthy of love. Especially those parts." Wanda chokes on her breath, in shock for a moment. But she doesn't wait for you to finish the gesture on her other hand to tilt her face towards you and kiss your lips.

The black fingers move to grab your cheeks, to deepen the kiss and she feels you smile against her lips.

It's a much more intoxicating sensation than the addiction in the darkhold, and Wanda focuses on this as she surrenders herself to the kiss and pushes the demonic whispers to the back of her mind, letting your needy sounds replace them.

She'll remember this, in the next world she destroys trying to get you back. And in the next, and the next.