#by the end of the month the rough of this should be done

[beeeeandpuppycat]

That Leon s(lut) Kennedy smut alph I promised (I forgot so it took me months >:[)

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

No in-between he's either leaving you in bed alone to go work or your gonna wake up snuggled in two strong arms pushed against his chest

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Belly!I can imagine him nuzzling his face into his partners belly in a tired manner after he had a long day

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

ALOT I mean I can imagine he doesn't do it that often so it comes out in one big go! Like doing it on ur face even if he acts embarrassed

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has a bunch of old shitty porn comics under his bed cause he's too embarrassed to actually buy more

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

In-between I mean he's good but considering he doesn't so it much he isn't the best in the world. Still makes the best effort ♡

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

LAP . You sitting on his lap with ur back facing him. His arms wrapped round you for support and his face down in the crook of your neck.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's usually serious himself. Most the time your more goofy seeing this strong man all blush and flustered. Ending with some lil jokes

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's pretty well groomed ? I mean look in the future he dyes his hair and everything. Straight and a pale blonde. A pretty sight to the eyes!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's a cutie. ^^ not necessarily words of passion or even insults he's usually quiet. But romantic where he holds your waist as tight as possible making sure your as close as you can be.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Does it all secretly cause I know he'd be embarrassed about it . Taking more precautions then he should. Tho at some point he got too pent up and had to do it in some dirty club bathroom :/ (poor leon)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink ! More partner complimenting him. It feels nice knowing they really appreciate him. Plus size kink! Both ways. When his partner is taller or shorter. Either way he's getting flustered

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers in the safety of his own home. Hotel rooms mostly places you guys can't be caught . He enjoys the adrenaline but he rather not be seen with his dick out

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Simple touch. Something like a little glance to just your fingers touching when you pass him a pen. The simple jump of his heart when acts like that happen makes this man happy.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything with another person. Even if you would ask he'd end up being uncomfortable

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving.! Of course he tries to give.. but most the time it's not overly good? And he likes the view of seeing you between his thighs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends. Most the time nice and slow. Taking rather deep thrust each time to savor it. If you guys haven't done it in a long time due to him leaving etc? As fast as he can. Most the time it ends with his hips hurting.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan! If your not gonna take your time and enjoy it what's the point of even doing it? He might if it's before he's going on a long trip

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yeah! But his partner would have to bring it up. Or else he doesn't really get put his comfort zone

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

BIG. Big stamina(just like his dic-) what do you expect? Look at this man's muscles. I just know he's able to do it long enough till their partner turns to a rag doll

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No>:[ tho poor guy was rather embarrassed when he came home to see his partner using one on themselves. Atleast he knows your not lonely when he's gone? Can't imagine him really using them on himself more his partner.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually he's the one being teased. Tho don't take it too far- it would end with him getting pent up and just doing it himself. (Head down ass up)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Quiet. Small little groups and deep breaths on in a while. Long pants- and occasionally whimpers if you reallyyyy try!

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

At some point when he rent to work he kept seeing this group of cats. It became his routine to bring snacks for them on his way to work! Tho at some point the lil meow meows disappeared. Everything he goes to work he still looks around wondering if they came back

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Just a little bit above average ! Pale with a pretty bubble gum tip and a lil vein going down the bottom. A slight curve in the middle.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not all that high. At some point he became used to not having sex. Tho- after getting with you it definitely became higher.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Silly man falls right asleep. He doesn't really know when to stop so it ends with him just passing himself out at the end

Finally did it!!

[erasetale]

Tis the season! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! To those who don't, have a good day anyways! I hope we all enjoyed some yummy meals!!! The drawing didin't turn out exactlly how we planned or exactlly how I wanted it to look but perfeccionism is the enemy of getting things done so we settle with that hahaha! — 💚

[Merry (late) Christmas and happy holidays to all! No, we're not dead, we just got busy on these last months of the year and I'll be honest I completly forgor about this blog while doing college stuff. Gonna try and at least give a warning when we have to take a break for this sort of stuff in the future, that's wholly my bad, my apologies. We should be back by the begining of next year, after all these celebrations, so stay tuned there, thank you for all the asks so far!] - [🩶]

Image ID on image alt text and under cut. Version without effects under cut. Some more blabber asqell lol.

[Image ID: A drawing of EraseTale!Chara on the left smilling with her teeth alongside EraseTale!Frisk on the right doing a peace sign and smilling with closed mouth. In the background there is a Christmas tree (Based on the tree in the middle of Snowdin). On the foreground, above the characters, it's written "Happy Holidays" in alternating red and green letters.]

Woah! This year sure was a big year for me! In this end of the year I have moved to a new home, passed the entrance exam to a colledge, opened thia blog, and much more! I am very happy with all that happend, qnd I hope next year can be even better! Though, I will miss not having classes... ( " ´∇`) - 💚

[Same on my end, college got ROUGH these past months and I put this blog so much on the backburner I deadass forgor about it, after we're done with the holidays we'll be back, but if I can have my way we'll still work on this blog, just on a SEVERELY reduced speed. I'm waiting to see what you all will ask these little characters I have created, for we still have a long road ahead =).] - [🩶]

[aparticularbandit]

also finished the outline, and it does look like thirty-five chapters + prologue (already posted) + epilogue.

i'm in chapter thirty-three, so i have. 33-35 + epilogue left.

...and the five remnants chapters i haven't written yet, but i think i'm going to try and write those in one swoop probably next week? i have a general idea what those maintain, and i don't expect izuru to show up until maybe the second fic (i haven't decided yet because i want to see him in dr3 before i decide what to do with him).

so nine chapters total left to write.

chapters are usually 2-3k.

that's another 18-27k.

except that the first remnants chapter is relatively short in comparison with the other chapters and i expect the others to follow suit - so those should be between 1-2k. so that's 5-10k + 8-12k.

except again that the prologue was shorter, too, and i suspect the epilogue will follow that, too, so i'd put that one closer to 1-2k and not quite 3k.

which is 6-12k + 6-9k. so 12-21k. roughly.

right now i'm at a little over 67k, which means 79k at the lowest end (i'd round up for 80k) and 94k at the highest end (and i'd round up for 95k).

so this thing will likely end up anywhere from 80k-95k.

and there's a second fic.

i'm tired. XD

[lightbulb-warning]

this is getting ridiculous there's so much stuff i wanna draw i need to clone myself immediately

[rubberduckyrye]

I keep thinking about how writing 3k words every day for me might actually be feasible

Write 1k after each meal

1k three times a day

I chew through words so fast so I only need about 30 minutes to write 1k?

It's not hard.... I could easily do it!!!

And that's without my meds--I was told my meds are safe to take but I did feel a racing heart issue so I want to switch to a lower dose or a more mild medicine tbh.

Still!

I'm trying to plan this out. Ehe.

[lilowoof]

I'm so fucking excited to get all this outstanding work done, and for tax season to fuck off. I cannot wait to have more time to play games with pals, go out with friends whom I haven't seen in a few months....go to some random meetups to meet new ppl and create new connections (and perhaps snag me a new person wink wonk LMAO).

And just...have more time to live. To stop feeling as lonely as I am feeling rn. CAUSE HOO BOY, it's been hitting me hard. And I can't do too much about it CAUSE of the deadlines I need to meet!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, bad politics, chemically induced heat? institutionalized reader, doctors, wack rehabilitation program, ish brainwashing

fem reader

You’d been difficult to tame. Or, he just didn’t have the time to do it properly—too busy at work and too tired when coming home. He’d wanted a sweet Omega, one who did house chores when he was away and had dinner ready for him when he got off.

You’d looked real sweet at the auction—a perfectly beautiful Omega. You weren’t cheap either—everyone had made their bids, but he’d been the one to walk away with the prize in the end. He can’t say he regrets it—he still has a fondness for you even though you’re not what he’d thought he’d purchased.

You just need some behavioral correcting. And so, he put you in an Omega institution.

It had been recommended to him. It’s not so uncommon, he later found out while reading up on the place. Auctioned Omegas tend to end up a little rough around the edges—here, at the institution, they’ll smooth those edges right out.

Sadly, there’s been a rise in unstable Omegas as of late—he reads on their website. It’s a misguided revolution taking place in several auction homes that’s to blame for it—circling modern ideas of liberation, equality, andindependence. It all stems from a place of fear, the website explains in detail—Omegas seek to stand on their own in the world. Cooped up in auction homes, they fear they’ll never see the outside without a mate—and as the years dwindle on and their prospects become slimmer, they start fantasizing about doing it on their own.

He feels sorry for you while reading it. Your attitude makes more sense now, knowing you’ve been fed a bunch of deluded nonsense. He can’t blame you for getting swept up in it—you’re a little younger than him, after all. But the silly idea of a lone Omega isn’t just laughable but dangerous. It was best of him to make sure any such notions were quashed—for your own good—before you end up doing something you might regret. 

And it seemed this place was the place to do it. In fact, many of his fellow Alphas had done the same, and they’d all sung this particular institution’s praises.

Oh, but it’s been hard. You wouldn’t talk to him much or even keep him in good company at home, but still, he misses your presence. The house seems so empty without your little everyday spats to keep him on his toes.

You’ve been away for a whole month now, and he hasn’t even been allowed to visit, not once. It would ruin the process, he was told. But he’s been assured that the caretakers there have been making great progress with you. He should be able to come pick you up as soon as the start of next week.

He remembers having been skeptical about leaving you here as he walks to announce himself at the help desk. The facility is pristine and sterile—very impersonal, just like any other hospital. He wonders if you’ve been scared. After all, it’s most likely your skittish nature that makes you so hostile, joined with misgivings making you confused. It can’t be easy. He hopes the doctors here have helped you sort things out. Maybe you won’t be so frustrated all the time.

He was led to a private room where he could complete some paperwork for your release while waiting for your discharge. He made quick work of it. A door opens, and your doctor comes through, and then, following right behind him, there’s you—his pretty little Omega.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you quite so subdued—not even when you’d been caged at the auction, there’d still been some fight to your spirit. Now, not so much—taking quiet and careful steps with your head hung, looking at your slipper-clad feet.

You pick your face up when you recognize the scent, and then you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost. Wide-eyed and lock-jawed—your breathing picks up rapidly, and his name drops from your lips like a pained whimper, followed by a sudden burst of tears and a rush toward him. “You came back—” 

You’re on him before he has the time to blink—pressed against him tightly, skin-to-skin and heart-to-heart, with your face buried in the grove of his neck. Your claws are slightly drawn, but in no effort to hurt him—rather, to cling to him. It’s not any normal hug—not that you’d ever given him one before—but even so, you’re swaddledaround his neck with your legs crossed at his back.

He’s taken aback by the behavior—it isn’t like you at all. He remembers your aversion to his touch, how you’d regard him like a plague, snarling each time he’d get too close. This was beyond new.

But you leave him no opening to comment either, too busy rambling in meek little whispers pressed into his skin, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—I knew you’d come back—knew you hadn’t forgotten about me. I’m sorry I was being difficult, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’ve forgiven me, right? You’ll take me home now, right? Please—”

He’d never been in a position to soothe you before—you’d never wanted it. He doesn’t know what else to do but smooth a hand over your hunched and shuddering back, shushing you like he’d seen mothers do with their sobbing children. You didn’t look much different right now.

“Yeah… we’re going home,” he assures you. 

You hug him a little tighter as a sob wreaks through you.

This isn’t exactly what he prepared himself for. He thought you’d be... well, he doesn’t really know... nicer?Perhaps. Agreeable. Not so violent. But not this—this broken little ball of shivering sniffles holding onto him as if the world was about to end.

He swallows thickly, then looks at your doctor—he doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, he seems utterly unfazed.

It makes him wonder, a little warily, “What have you done with her?”

The doctor seems more than happy to explain—it’s only customary, after all. He’d paid a lot to have you rehabilitated here.

“Each omega requires special treatment suited to them,” the doctor explains. “Yours was particularly unruly.”

You flinch. He feels your claws dig deeper, but they’re too blunt to draw blood and too weak to hurt anyway. But even so, your sentiments are more than clear—you fear this doctor with your entire being.

“We’ve found that in the case of hostile Omegas, the most effective way to correct their behavior is to keep them isolated and let their own instincts remind them of what they need,” the doctor continues. “Of course, we’ve taken protective measures to ensure she wouldn’t harm herself in said isolation and have fed her accordingly at scheduled times every day.” He smiles. “We can assure you she’s been perfectly safe in the pillow room.”

He lifts the silver suitcase he’d been holding, props it up, and pops the lid, revealing a row of ten syringes—a hot pink fluid within.

“This is our recommended medicine.”

You shudder even more, unrelenting in your grip around him—hanging on so tightly as if you fear someone would come and pry you off him at any moment.

“Give one to her if and when she acts up. More instructions come with the case—please read through them carefully.”

He eyes the syringes with furrowed brows, picking one up to inspect it further. They don’t look like anything he’s read about in the brochure or on the website—perhaps a brand new method for treating Omegas? This is a cutting-edge institution, after all.

He can’t guess what they must do to make you cower like that. The spit-spire he left here a month ago wouldn’t cry over a tiny needle.

“What are they?” he asks.

The doctor’s smile stretches. “Nothing dangerous. All natural hormone components.”

He’s not sure what that entails, and so he quirks a brow while laying the syringe back in its designated mold. “And what does that mean?”

The doctor clasps the case shut and hands it over to him while explaining plainly, “They induce heat.” 

He accepts the case before his ears have the chance to draw back at his words. Now that explains your sudden clinginess—why you’re so frigid.

The doctor adds, “Poor thing’s spent quite a few alone in the pillow room, so I’m sure she’ll be grateful to finally be by her mate’s side again.”

He’s speechless.

Spending heat alone, without any relief, is a form nothing short of torture. If he’d known that was what they were doing to you, he wouldn’t have sent you here in the first place. He very nearly chews the doctor out for using such barbaric methods but thinks better of it. If anything were to be done, it would be through a well-worded and filed complaint and a vow to never do business with them ever again.

Though, coming home with you by his side, still clinging to him… he can’t argue with the results. 

So he doesn’t complain. He just enjoys your new and improved wellness and promises never to use those injections on you himself. Yes, they’d forego their expiration date soon enough, dusting away in the back of his closet. He’d never ever put you through something so horrid. That’s his pledge as your mate.

Oh, but then... the honeymoon phase dissolves. And you return to your old habits of teeth and claws.

It’s never-ending barking with you all over again—you want to leave, you want to be alone, you don’t want him to touch you, you blame him for what you went through at the institution, you hate him for it, and you’ll never ever forgive him.

He doesn’t want to—he swears while holding the syringe to your thigh where he’s strapped you down in bed with ropes and knots—he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t, but you leave him no choice when you act like a wild animal. 

The first time is always the hardest. But he doesn’t leave you alone in a room like they did at the institution—no, he helps you through it. It’s not torture this way. It’s just… well, what can he say? It’s just a little reminder to get you back on your good behavior.

You would rather stay here than get sent back to the pillow room, right?

It’s all too easy the second time around even though it shouldn’t have been. It was only a day of small uproars, nothing all that bad—refusing to greet him at the door, to make dinner, to fix his plate, to wash dishes, to come to bed. He’d allowed you days like that in the past, but this time, he’d felt himself gravitate towards his so-called last resort once again. 

Still, he’d felt a little guilty about it. 

It would be easier to refrain if it didn’t work like a charm.

Now, he goes and finds the briefcase at the drop of a hat. Say something snarky or look at him funny. Give him any opportunity, and he’ll abuse it—even things you don’t even mean to do, like burning the food, shrinking his clothes in the wash, or forgetting to make the bed in the morning. He’s on you with the syringe deep in your flesh before you can even mouth the words “I’m sorry—”

You’re limp and sweat-drenched after a few hours. He spoons you as the spasms continuously ricochet through you—his spent leaking down your thighs. Even after several rounds, the hormones are still brewing up a bad storm within your gut, thundering in your heart as its lightning zips along your limbs. Your head is a rainy cloud—heavy and full yet soft like cotton.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—it was an accident—” you mumble between labored breaths, not entirely sure what error you’d made this time, shivering against his warm chest as he cups your breast in one big hand and your swollen cunt in the other.

“I know, I know it was, baby,” he coos. “But you need to be more mindful—can’t be making so many mistakes all the time.” His lips brush your skin as he purrs, placing small pecks against your cheek and neck. “How can I trust you with my pups if you’re gonna be such a scatterbrain, hm?”

The mention of pups makes something roar more ferociously in your underbelly, and you whimper meekly in return. “I’m sorry—I’ll do better.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll get there, sweetie.”

The storm within crackles, rumbling with a deepening hunger. Even though you feel battle-worn and ever ready for the sweet escape of sleep, there’s something even needier and heedless that makes your body feel all but set ablaze.

You’ve cum so many times already, but it’s still not enough—it’s never enough. It takes everything in you to make sense of his words—to act civil even when all you want is to jump his bones—make him fuck you until your fever breaks, then allow you rest.

But act in any way out of turn, and he’ll only drag this out. Be sweet, you remind yourself—sugar, syrup, honeycomb—sweet and soft like velvet—no teeth or claws or growling. No matter what, don’t let the animal out of the cage.

“No matter how many lessons it’ll take…” he murmurs. “I’m here to help.”

“Thank you—” you wince while rubbing your thighs together—grinding against his hand in desperation. “Can you… can we—”

He chuckles fondly, feeling you rub your ass back against his crotch wantingly. “Oh? Another round so soon?” 

You bite your lip at his teasing. Far beyond proud to not be begging, “Yes, please—pretty, pretty please—”

The sweet warble in your voice is so pitiful and cute—he can’t help the smile it brings him. “Alright, honey,” he hums while shifting, getting up with a hearty sigh, then leaning over you to give your pleading little pout a kiss. He feeds you his next words with a grin on his face, “Let’s see about that needy pussy of yours.”

He spreads and shimmies himself between your aching thighs, nice and snug against the weeping little thing between them—looking down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smug smile that makes you feel like the most hopeless little Omega in the world.

He places another kiss upon your forehead—dwarfing your hand in his big one, braiding your fingers together while the other carries his meaty cock, holding it steady up to your fluttering and glossy slit. 

The size never fails to make you squirm as you look down at it—wondering why you crave it so badly when it only serves to make your body twist and scream from the stretch it gives you.

 “Don’t worry, sweetie,” he soothes the tiny cry that cracks from your throat once he starts easing the length inside the snug comforts of your walls. “Your Alpha’s here to make it all better.”

♡ BNHA – old man Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Daichi, Ushijima ♡ AOT – Erwin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lotus

a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)

summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration

word count: 4000

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.

“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”

Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?

Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”

“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.

Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.

“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”

“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”

“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.” 

“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”

Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.

“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”

“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”

“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you. 

He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you. 

As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed. 

A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around. 

Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.

“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound. 

But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”

Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”

“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”

“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”

“Bad breakup?” he guessed. 

“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”

“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”

“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”

Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom. 

Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh. 

“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained. 

“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely. 

It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt. 

You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way. 

Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become. 

As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch. 

It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch. 

You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were. 

“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.

“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat. 

“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”

And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.

Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”

A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”

Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”

“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”

“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”

“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch. 

“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.

“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”

“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”

“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered. 

“Do you?”  

“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him. 

“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh. 

The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.

“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench. 

Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back. 

Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”

“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”

“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in. 

He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed. 

You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust. 

When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him. 

As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders. 

You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck. 

Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.

Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment. 

You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful. 

Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing. 

When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.

“Everything okay so far?”

“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own. 

His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs. 

After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.

Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.  

As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips. 

Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff. 

You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure. 

But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.

“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak. 

“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you. 

“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch. 

“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high. 

He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance. 

“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”

“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at. 

“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud. 

“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…” 

“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”

“I want–, I want–”

“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes. 

And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”

But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.         

As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp. 

Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”

When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole. 

It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself. 

Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole. 

“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom. 

“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was. 

Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy. 

It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore. 

That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy. 

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel. 

Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock. 

A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards. 

His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass. 

Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more. 

You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.

“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another. 

Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[ireneispunk]

Duty

Jacaerys Velaryon x female reader smut

After a rough start to your marriage, whispers from the palace cause you and your betrothed to start what you should have done months ago; produce an heir.

w.c: 1487

c.w: SMUT 18+, NO use of Y/N, not exactly enemies but y'all beefing, hate sex (if you squint, but more like dislike sex and its more just sass idfk), mention of pregnancy, breeding kink, afab reader, p in v sex, fingering, overstimulation, pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so i recently watched the queen charlotte bridgerton spin off and i absolutely loved it, this is very inspired by charlotte and george's earlier dynamic tee hee.

Four months and 3 days. That is how long it has been since your wedding, and how long you have loathed your husband. The two of you were not exactly close before your betrothal on account of the rapidness of it but the tensions that spread between parts of his family did not help. You both seem to fight every conversation you had thereafter, so it became easier to avoid each other. That was until around 3 months into your betrothal that questions of when you would need your dresses altering had you worried. You were supposed to making heirs but you both exploded whilst in the same room as each other.  You’d visited the prince in his separate room and communicated the issue, he was reading by the fire. You played with your fingers in your hands as he eyed the flaw, thinking intently. He placed his book face down on the table as he petted the bench beside him. You hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to him. “Once a week, we will fulfil our, uh, duty to try and produce an heir. Once you are with child we will stop.” You thought for a moment, before nodding. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. This was not what you had wished for in your marriage. Jacaerys was a painfully handsome man, dark curls that framed he chiselled features.

“It is the end of the week today, your grace.” You spoke, not fully considering the implications of the statement. But the quicker your belly was full the better.

He turned to you, hesitated for a moment before moving closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. You were surprised by the sudden closeness of someone, let alone your husband. He looked up from beneath you with a glimmer of what he had on your wedding night, without the naïve hope. His hands slid up from your hips to the bust of your dress, he looked into your eyes before giving the bodice of your dress a quick tug down allowing your breast to spill out. You gasped as his hands cupped over your breasts, massaging them before running a thumb over your nipple. You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a warmth spread over your body. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, keeping your eyes shut or trained on the ceiling. You felt as one hand left your breast and hike up your dress further up your hips. He sighed to himself slightly, at the sight of your exposed cunt. He could not believe his luck the first time he had saw you. You were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and unfortunately that did not change the more you both disliked each other. If anything, it grew. Seeing you from across the room at formal engagements, gluing to his side when you needed to seem like the happy couple. It made the frustrations between the two of you even more palpable over the past few months, given the lack of relief. You opened your eyes to see his dark eyes looking up at you. He brought his two first fingers up to your lips, “Open.” His soft tone contradicted the demand and look upon his face. His fingers slid into your mouth, gliding across your tongue as you closed your lips around them. Out of sheer lust you grinded your hips against him, needing to feel some release and gaining small jolt at the feeling of your cunt rubbing against his clothed cock. His free hand shot to your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He removed his fingers from your mouth, admiring his spit covered fingers for a moment before they reached between your thighs and lightly grazed across your clit. You jolted, leaning forward to grip the bench behind him.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your mouth as his fingers slowly ran circles across your clit. He smirked as the noises that fell from your lips, knowing how much you couldn’t bare to be around him but fell apart in his arms was a satisfying feeling.  “I did not know you were so needy, dear wife.” The honorific felt like a pin prick. Insincere and laced with sarcasm.

Despite the tightening growing in your stomach, you could not let him have the final word as usual. “You hadn’t been paying close enough attention, your grace.” A flash of frustration flashed upon his face as his hand moved to grip your hair and fingers plunged inside of you. A gasp left you as his fingers thrusted deep inside of your cunt, you had gone from strolling towards an orgasm to being thrown at it. The tips of his fingers curled slightly, deliciously massaging that spot inside your pussy that drove you wild. You jaw fell open, eyes going wide at the loss of contact when he removed his fingers from you. You went to protest before seeing his cock in his hands, brows furrowed as he stroked the length.

You couldn’t hold off any longer before you took a hold of his wrists and pushed his hands away to his sides. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps, watching an expression of lust spread across his face. You leaned over slightly, letting a ball of spit leave your lips and watch as it slid down his cock. He hissed, returning his hands to your hips pulling you closer to him. You took the hint, angling his cock towards your pussy, rubbing the tip over your clit for your own pleasure a few times, before lining him up and sliding down slowly, a large groan left his lips as be bottomed out inside of you. You had forgotten just how big his cock was, and just how good it had felt filling you up. You began to raise your hips up and down, moans leaving your lips as you did. You worked at a steady pace but after being accustomed to his hands began to push up and down with the movements of your hips moving you faster. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into you, no matter how much your stifled your moans, you gave him the satisfaction of them loudly leaving your lips. His hand reached up to yours, removing it from his shoulders and moving your fingers between your legs. You immediately got his instruction, fingers latching onto your clit. You worked tight circles into it as you got filled over and over with Jacaerys’ cock. A familiar tightness returned to your stomach as your head dropped back and numerous illicit words left your lips. Recognising your peak, he pulled you forward by your thighs, almost pressing your bodies against each other as he quickened his pace. Your orgasm cascaded over you, feeling your pussy tighten around Jacaerys’ cock and your body buzz from the overstimulation. You rode out your high atop of him, watching as his eyes screwed shut and his thrusts became sloppier.

You took the opportunity to return your knees to the bench either side of him and bob your hips up and down as fast as you could. His fingers reached the lip of the bench gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “Mmm, my grace,” You moaned out. His eyes shot open, his heart pounding at your remark. “Please fill me with your seed.” You pleaded and moaned, half doing it for a reaction, half because it felt too good. His jaw hung open in shock for a split second before he sputtered a moan from his lips, hips snapping into yours. You felt satisfied as a warmth filled your pussy. Your hips moved slightly, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you still. His hand shot to your hip, mumbling something, before you placed your hand flat across his chest. You bobbed a few more times on his cock, being sure to be as full as possible with his cum. You smirked to yourself seeing his head throne back, lip quivering, veins prominent in his hands gripping your waist, sweaty curls sticking to his neck. You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, standing to your feet and trying to mask your wobbliness as adjusting your dress.

You stole a glance his way, admiring his beauty before he spoke and ruined it. He panted through his mouth, arms outstretched over the sides of the bench. You smirked to yourself, admiring how he too had crumbled for you. The opening of his doorhandle caused him to call your name from behind you. You glanced at him and smiled. “Goodnight your grace, see you in seven eves’.” He opened his mouth to response, but you had already shut the door behind you. You hoped it would be sooner before he fucked you again.

[witchywithwhiskey]

when in hell, do as the demons do

pairing: demon posing as a tattoo artist!steve rogers x tattooed!female reader (number and type of tattoos aren't specified but it's more than two)

summary: new york city tattoo parlors have a tradition of offering special deals on friday the 13th, but when you decide to try out a new shop in brooklyn, you get much more than you paid for—and end up selling your soul to a charming demon.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, monsterfucking, dubcon because magic, sex pollen elements, nonconsensual bonding, soul bonds, demon tricks, bdsm (no safe word but with check-ins), choking, sadism/masochism, pain play, very brief blood play, nipple torture, pussy spanking, face slapping, rough body play, finger sucking, dacryphilia, fingering (f receiving), degradation kink, master kink, praise kink, pet names (baby, sweetheart, plaything), begging, teasing, dirty talk, dry humping, biting, marking, cockwarming, aftercare, happy ending

word count: 14.5k

a/n: here's my first halloween fic for 2024! i came up with the idea on friday the 13th last month and liked it for a halloween idea so here we are! this is the fic i was talking about in my poll here, which helped me decide to make steve a demon, but i'm not great at world-building/magic-building so if the magic doesn't make sense, i'm sorry! i just wanted to write some sex pollen-y tattoo artist smut and it turned into a whole thing. this fic really got away from me 😬 whoops. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

halloween fics masterlist

The first time you heard the story—the urban legend whispered around New York City tattoo parlors—you were getting your second tattoo. You were young, but not so naive, and yet, when the woman named Wanda Maximoff told you the tale in her vaguely Eastern European accent, a chill raced down your spine. 

It went like this: There was a young person who wanted to get a tattoo, and they were lured into an unfamiliar shop on Friday the 13th by the special deals they were offering. (Where the shop was located in the city varied based on who was telling the story, but Wanda had said it was a small parlor tucked into an alley in the Bowery.)

The person in the story didn’t know the shop or the artist, but they were so enthralled by the artist’s beauty and work that they made the hasty decision to get a tattoo of a symbol they didn’t understand. It was the last decision they’d ever make, because by the time the tattoo was done, they’d been unknowingly enslaved to a dark force—having sold their soul to a demon.

When Wanda had finished the story, her piercing green eyes stared at you long and hard, her mouth twisted to the side as if she was stopping herself from saying more than she should. There was a warning in her expression you didn’t understand, and you hadn’t been able to stop the fear that burrowed into your heart. For a second—just a second—you’d believed the strange, witchy woman. 

Then you’d scoffed, laughing away your fear, and insisted the story must’ve been started by a grumpy old tattoo artist who was tired of the influx of customers on Friday the 13th. It was well known that most New York City tattoo shops had special deals every Friday the 13th, and you asserted the story was just supposed to frighten away naive tattoo novices who’d get something impulsively and regret it later. 

Wanda had pressed her lips together, an inscrutable look on her face, but only nodded once before returning her focus to your tattoo. In the silence that had followed, you’d been left alone with your thoughts, and you mulled over the story, repeating your rationalizations to yourself until you believed them. 

But a sliver of fear and intrigue remained for the rest of your session and when you were done, you were relieved to leave Wanda and her creepy story behind. Something like that—accidentally selling your soul to a demon when getting a tattoo—didn’t happen in real life, and it certainly wouldn’t happen to you. 

That’s what you told yourself, and you believed it. Until, of course, it did happen to you.

Over the years, you heard the story repeated time and time again in countless tattoo shops across the city, and the fear you’d felt listening to Wanda recount her version of the tall tale transformed into curiosity, then a dark kind of delight. It wasn’t something you wanted to push away, but to hold close to your heart, to cherish.

As you got older, you found yourself telling the story to younger folks when you crossed paths with someone who hadn’t heard it. And every time you told the story, you found yourself unconsciously replicating Wanda’s Eastern European accent, making the story as scary as you could. 

Each time you saw apprehension in the eyes of those you told the tale to, something inside you unfurled and grew stronger. You’d smirk when the tattoo novices scurried away, some leaving whatever shop you were in entirely, and a shiver would race down your spine, so much like the fear you’d felt when you first heard the story, but it was no longer that. It was a quiver of devilish mirth. 

You told yourself it was normal, how much fun you had scaring off the younger folks in the tattoo shops you frequented, laughing along with the artists you knew so well. You told yourself you were just taking part in tradition by repeating the story. You told yourself there wasn’t a darkness in your heart that was wakened by the story, and craved something you didn’t quite understand.

That’s what you told yourself, and you believed it. Until you walked into Hell and your entire life changed.

Hell was the new tattoo shop that had opened in Brooklyn at the start of October, though you’d been hearing talk of it for months before then. You’d been curious about it, and the fact that none of your friends or any of the artists you frequented knew much about it made it all the more intriguing. They didn’t know who owned the shop or who was working there, and you were desperate to find out.

It wasn’t a conscious decision you remembered making, but late in the afternoon on Friday the 13th, you took the subway to Brooklyn, getting off at the stop closest to Hell. 

The day was brisk, the chill of autumn clinging to the air even as the sun shone brightly above the city. You wore a thick sweater, a skirt and some tights with your most comfortable boots to make the trek deep into Brooklyn, and you were glad for it. It was a longer walk than you’d been expecting, but pleasant enough while the sun was high.

By the time you made it to the shop, though, the sun was dipping low behind the brownstones of the nearby neighborhood and your cheeks were chilled from the crisp autumn breeze. It was a relief to see the red neon sign for Hell, and you skipped quickly down the last block to push through the door of the nondescript exterior.

You were met by a rush of artificial heat that made you smile, pleased by the respite from the frigid autumn air, which swirled around your ankles as the door closed behind you. The warmth of the parlor kissed your cheeks and thawed through your icy fingertips while you looked around. 

You were surprised to find that Hell was unexpectedly inviting. 

Inside, the tattoo shop was decorated in dark colors that fit the theme: inky blacks, vivid reds, luminous yellows and burnt oranges. But, though it could’ve been dreary, Hell looked alive and lived-in, with cozy black leather sofas in the waiting area, and artwork decorating much of the wall space. When you looked closer, you saw that many of the pieces depicted creatures of the dark. 

As you studied the artwork, you noticed a theme: Demons cavorting with human women, specifically fucking human women. You felt a tingle of something bloom between your thighs. The art was salacious and wicked, and yet, you didn’t feel disturbed by any of the imagery, only intrigued. Even a little bit aroused. 

A clearing throat pulled your attention away from the art and to the redheaded woman standing behind the counter. She asked if you needed help. 

As you approached, you noticed she was beautiful, and had a cold smile on her face, her green eyes watching you in a way that unsettled you. It took you a long moment to realize her gaze reminded you of Wanda, even though the women looked nothing alike. But you felt uneasy as you walked up to the counter.

Your smile was tentative as you inquired if the shop had any Friday the 13th deals, adding that it was tradition, just in case the woman was new to the city.

Her green eyes raked over your face in an obviously assessing look, and you felt like your heart and soul were being judged. You nearly huffed a laugh at the thought, because it was so ludicrous, but managed to keep still and remain expressionless while the woman stared at you.

After a moment, she smiled again and the expression was friendlier, like she was greeting an old friend. She introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff and apologized because all but one of the artists had gone home for the day since their appointments were done and they didn’t get too many walk-ins, being a new shop and all.

Just then, a man stepped behind the counter as if appearing out of nowhere—though, at the time, you rationalized that you’d simply been staring so intently at Natasha, you hadn’t noticed his approach. Without missing a beat, Natasha introduced the man as Steve Rogers, the owner of Hell and the only artist still around on that Friday the 13th.

“What willing sacrifice do we have here, Nat?” Steve asked, sidling up to the counter and pressing his hands on top to lean toward you. 

The first thing you noticed where his eyes—such a pure, beautiful blue that they looked like the perfect, endless sky. But as your gaze wandered over his face, you realized his eyes weren’t his only gorgeous feature. He had a strong brow that gave way to silky blond hair; a straight, sloping nose that led down to a pair of plump, pink lips with just enough of a cupid’s bow, that you wanted to lick it. 

A rush of warmth filled your cheeks at the thought and you dropped your eyes to Steve’s broad shoulders, pausing to admire the way they filled out his simple black t-shirt. His thick biceps were covered in stunningly intricate tattoos, all done in dark ink that contrasted with his pale skin. They extended down to his hands, still planted flat on the counter. 

As far as you could see, there was only a small space of bare, unadorned skin at the base of Steve’s throat—all the rest of him seemed to be covered in tattoos that snaked beneath his t-shirt. You wondered idly if his tattoos covered his whole body, eyes trailing down to the black jeans he wore, and quickly shoved the thought aside. 

Raising your gaze back to Steve’s face, you hoped your expression wasn’t giving away your thoughts, but the charming grin that spread across the hot tattoo artist’s face made you think he had an idea you were checking him out. And he liked it. 

“Or should I say,” Steve went on in a slightly lower, more rumbly voice, leaning further across the counter with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. He was close enough that you got a hint of his cologne—leather and firewood—and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted, warming and tingling and yearning for him. “What sweet thing do we have coming to barter their soul for some new ink?” He winked at you, all charm, and you nearly swooned.

“I-I was just asking if you had any Friday the 13th deals,” you stammered, unsure how to act under the blinding light of Steve’s charm. You’d known and talked to your fair share of attractive tattoo artists in your life, but Steve was on another level. He was hot and alluring in a way you couldn’t put into words, which was how you found yourself blurting, “It’s tradition.”

Steve’s grin hitched higher, and he stared at you a second longer before ducking down behind the counter to rifle through the shelves. 

“Well, I’m not one to turn my back on the old ways,” he said, lifting his head to catch your eye. He gave you a look that made your knees weak, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief like he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on you, before returning to his task.

Finally, he seemed to find what he’d been looking for and stood up, brandishing a piece of paper on which some simple tattoo designs were sketched. It looked like any other sheet of designs you’d see in any other tattoo shop, and you didn’t think anything of it, turning your attention back to Steve’s handsome face.

“We didn’t have anything planned,” he explained, crossing his arms and leaning down on the counter. 

The position made him slightly shorter than you, while emphasizing the expanse of his shoulders and the thick mucles of his biceps and the veins of his forearms. It was only because his hand pointed to the paper, pulling your attention away from his big body, that you remembered he was telling you something. 

“But if you pick from these, I’ll charge you $113—how’s that sound?” He raised his eyes to yours, and you noticed how long his eyelashes were. 

For a long moment, you just stared at Steve, your mouth slightly parted while you admired his beautiful face. You had the urge again to lick his cupid’s bow, and your body warmed pleasantly as you imagined doing exactly that. Sitting in Steve’s lap and licking him all over…

With effort, you managed to pull yourself from the tattoo artist’s spell, shaking your head to clear it while you processed what he’d said. The price he’d named was a typical deal for New York City, even with the Friday the 13th discount, so you nodded absently. 

“That sounds good,” you muttered, bending over the counter to look at the sheet of paper he was still pointing to. Even his hands were attractive, with skulls tattooed on the backs and other symbols you didn’t recognize decorating his knuckles. You couldn’t help but think his hands would make a pretty necklace if they were wrapped around your throat…

Shaking your head again, you furrowed your brow and forced yourself to focus on the paper with all the designs. There was some cute Halloween-themed stuff, like black cats, witch hats, ghosts and the like. There were also some stylized numbers, like 666, and a couple pentagram designs along with other symbols you recognized.

But the one that caught your attention was something you’d never seen before. It was made up of exquisitely delicate curving lines that formed what loosely looked like an infinity symbol. There were some twists to the design that made it look harsher, more archaic.

“What’s this?” you asked, pointing to the design that called to you and looking up at Steve. Your breath caught in your throat when you met his gaze, and your voice sounded awed as you went on. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

A secretive, conspiratorial smirk tugged at the corners of Steve’s lips and he leaned in a little closer, his scent invading your senses and his breath ghosting over your cheek. 

“It’s a design of my own making,” he said, his voice pitched low and intimate as he looked at you in a way that made warmth curl around your heart and trickle down to settle low in your belly. “It’s special—why, do you like it?”

It took a tremendous amount of effort to pull your gaze away from Steve’s, but you forced yourself to look back down at the paper, your finger tracing the sweeping curves and the sharp points of the design. 

“I do,” you said slowly, thinking about where on your body it might look nice. There was a spot on your ankle where you felt it would look good, like an anklet. But before you could get too attached to the design, you lifted your gaze, giving Steve a serious look. “It’s not a tribal symbol, or any kind of cultural appropriation, right?”

Steve placed a hand over his heart, like he was making a vow, and said, “I promise it’s not from any culture of man.” 

His strange answer piqued your curiosity, but you brushed your questions aside. Later, you’d understand his odd turn of phrase, but in the moment, you chalked it up to Steve playing into the theme of his shop. You figured anyone who named their tattoo parlor Hell would be a little peculiar, and you didn’t think it was a bad thing. Especially when he was so hot.

Looking back down at the paper, you let your eyes trail over the looping design a few times, feeling yourself sinking into…something. A thrilling shiver raced down your spine, a mix of delight and terror that you found intoxicating and you had to shake yourself to remember where you were and what you were doing.

Raising your eyes to Steve, you told him you wanted the design, and once the words were past your lips, you felt a sense of rightness. You weren’t the type of person to get tattoos impulsively, but this one was calling to you, and you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to get a tattoo from the hot shop owner. 

Besides, when in Hell…

Steve slid the paper off the counter and stood up straight, his eyes going sharp as he looked between you and the design. You got the same sense you had with Natasha, that Steve was judging your heart and soul and determining whether you were deserving of the design you’d chosen. You found yourself hoping desperately that he decided you were.

After a moment, an impish smirk pulled at Steve’s mouth before his expression shifted fluidly into one of theatrical uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, drawing out the tension of the moment and stroking his jaw like he was thinking. “I was hoping to save this design for someone special.” His blue eyes pinned you with a searching look, a charming smirk on his lips. “Are you special, sweetheart?”

Steve’s charm was turned all the way up, and you felt flustered under the weight of it. Not to mention that the way the pet name rolled off his tongue made you want to do anything he asked. Twisting your fingers self-consciously, you ducked your head a little. 

“Well, I—I don’t know,” you admitted, but for some reason, your thoughts strayed to the dark pleasure you sometimes felt when you frightened others with scary stories. Did that make you special, or just a little bit depraved? You didn’t know, but you hoped it was both, and that both were equally appealing to Steve.

The tattoo artist leaned back down on the counter, the veins of his forearms bulging from his skin as he crossed his arms. Since he’d ducked down, he could easily catch your lowered gaze.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” he purred softly, his tone inviting you to lean in. So you did. 

A soft smile curled your lips when you smelled his cologne, and you relaxed a little while he kept talking in that alluringly deep voice of his. 

“Where would you like my design on your body?” 

A shiver of desire thrummed beneath your skin at the implication of Steve’s words. There was something so enticing about the way he’d phrased his question—his design on your body. It called to the darkness buried deep in your heart, and you began to suspect he somehow knew you were a little depraved. Like him. 

Steve held your gaze for a long moment, and you thought you saw something shift in the depths of his blue eyes, like a shadow passing in front of the sun. But it was gone just as quickly, and you questioned whether your eyes were playing tricks on you. 

Shaking yourself free of your strange thoughts, you finally managed an answer. “My ankle.” But it seemed your mouth had a mind of its own, because you found yourself flirting with the hot tattoo shop owner, a smirk curving your lips as you went on. “Do you think my ankle would be worthy of your design, sir?” you asked with feigned innocence.

As you watched for Steve’s reaction, you were rewarded with the sight of his eyes darkening, his pupils blowing wide like he greatly enjoyed the fact that you were flirting with him. His mouth spread into a hungry grin and he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully while he considered you, finally coming to a decision.

“Mm, I think your ankle is the perfect place for my design, sweet girl,” he rumbled, smiling to himself like he’d made a joke only he understood. Then his fingers were trailing lightly along the line of your jaw, distracting you with the tingling warmth they left in their wake as he stood up. “I’m going to enjoy this very much,” he murmured enigmatically before pulling away.

Your mind was too frazzled by his touch and how bereft you felt without it to wonder over his words. Besides, he was already calling for Natasha, who emerged from the back of the shop to help you through the rest of the intake process. It was only then that you realized she’d left you and Steve alone at the counter a while ago. 

She slid smoothly in front of you with that friendly smile of hers while Steve retreated into the back to begin setting up. Natasha walked you through all the paperwork, none of which was new to you. That was why you felt comfortable not fully reading the fine print. 

You should’ve read the fine print. 

Once everything was signed, Natasha led you into the back and showed you where to stow your purse. She pointed to the privacy screen where you could take off your tights and boots, then helped you into the tattoo chair at Steve’s station. 

When you were settled, Natasha bid you and Steve a good night and grabbed her own things before leaving out the back door. It was a little abrupt and you were left feeling confused.

You asked Steve if the shop was closing for the night—it seemed a little early, especially for a Friday. And he explained that he’d decided to close the shop early since they had no more appointments and were unlikely to get any other walk-ins. 

For a moment, you fretted over keeping him late, but he waved away your concerns. 

“There’s no where I’d rather be than tattooing my design on you, pretty thing,” Steve murmured charmingly while he pulled on some black latex gloves. 

The earnestness in his voice soothed your anxiety and you relaxed back into the black leather chair, your legs propped on the footrest while Steve created a stencil of his design. Soon, the two of you were so engaged in a discussion about where exactly on your ankle to place the tattoo that you forgot you were alone with the handsome owner of Hell. 

After trying a few things, you decided to have the beautiful design lay across the front of your ankle, the sides wrapping around to the back so it’d look like a permanent adornment. You smiled when Steve complimented the placement you’d chosen and felt heat suffuse your cheeks at his praise. 

It all felt mostly familiar to you, someone who’d gotten a fair amount of tattoos in your life. But what you hadn’t been prepared for was the way Steve’s hands would feel on your body, the smoothness of the latex belying the warmth of his skin as he curled his fingers around the back of your leg to pull your foot onto his lap. 

Warmth cascaded from the top of your head down through the rest of your body in a gentle, tingling shower, settling heavily between your legs. You pressed your thighs tight together, both to stave off the ache that was building there and to make sure you didn’t accidentally flash the hot tattoo artist.

You weren’t looking at Steve’s face, your gaze tracing the dark black ink decorating his skin and curling beneath the cotton of his shirt, but you thought you saw something flicker over his expression as he took in your reaction to his touch. You almost thought you saw dark shadows creeping into his gaze, blotting out his blue irises and making him look…demonic. 

But when you flicked your gaze up to his, his eyes were a normal, glittering blue. You gave him a small smile and internally shook yourself, chalking up the moment to a trick of the light.

It was dim in the back room, with only a few warm lights positioned in Steve’s corner of the space. Natasha had closed up the rest of the shop, leaving you and Steve alone in the space, which was separated from the front by a wall and a doorway covered in a thick, maroon curtain. 

The walls of the shop were painted black and covered in more of the same artwork you’d seen in the waiting area. The main difference was all the tattoo equipment and the floor that was a bare dark wood, instead of the burnt orange carpet that covered much of the front room. 

Hell was dark, eerie and intimate, and you suspected the atmosphere must be getting to you, that was the only thing that explained what you’d seen in Steve’s eyes. Yes, that must be it, you told yourself, settling into the chair and letting Steve get to work.

The buzzing of his tattoo needle filled the silence and you prepared yourself for the pain that you knew was coming. Little did you know just how much pleasure you’d feel that night as well.

Nothing about the tattoo process seemed amiss until more than halfway through, when you began to feel a strange kind of tingling in your ankle where Steve worked, the sensation slowly creeping up your leg. It settled heavily between your thighs, making your core ache with a yearning emptiness as your slit leaked wetness into your panties.

It wasn’t painful, the tingling feeling, but it was unnerving, like it didn’t belong to you, and you couldn’t understand where it was coming from. 

“Uh-uhm, Steve?” you started, a hint of a whine in your voice, though it was mostly drowned out by the concern you felt. You sat up straight, forcing yourself to ignore the urge to rock your hips and grind yourself against the leather seat of the chair. “Can we take a break? I feel…weird.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Steve purred, instantly pulling the needle away from your skin and wiping away blood and excess ink with a small towel. After he’d deposited the tattoo gun and cloth on his station, he turned back to you, blue eyes filled with concern as he removed his gloves. “You ok?” he asked, his warm hands massaging the back of your leg that was still draped in his lap.

The urge to moan at the feel of his bare hands on your skin was almost undeniable. It felt so good to have his strong fingers kneading your muscle and you flopped back into the chair, pressing your lips together to stifle the sound of pleasure that wanted to slip free. But you couldn’t stop the way your hips squirmed, your body aching for something… 

“I think so,” you said, finally answering Steve’s question with a tremulous smile. You still felt the odd sensation pulsing up your leg and slipping between your thighs, prompting a delicious throbbing in your core, but forced yourself to ask, “There’s nothing strange in the ink, right? Something I could be allergic to?” 

An allergy was the only explanation you could come up with, even though it didn’t really make sense. You’d gotten plenty of tattoos, surely you would’ve had an allergic reaction years ago if that had been a possibility. And the way you felt wasn’t like any allergic reaction you’d ever heard of. 

You looked at Steve with wide, imploring eyes, hoping he could make sense of what you were feeling.

He shook his head, his fingers working higher to knead the muscle of your calf, nearly pulling a moan from your lips that would’ve drowned out his answer.

“I promise the ingredients are all-natural,” he said, his tone earnest and reassuring. “There’s nothing that would cause an allergic reaction.”

Your head fell back against the leather chair, missing the way Steve’s mouth curved into a devious smirk, and tried to gather your thoughts. The strange tingling sensation had calmed, you thought, having been replaced by the feeling of warmth that Steve’s touch inspired. 

Shaking yourself lightly, you told yourself it must’ve just been the tattoo needle hitting a nerve or something. You’d never had that feeling before with any of your other tattoos, but it must’ve been something to do with Steve’s method. It hadn’t been painful, so it didn’t mean something was wrong. It was fine. You told yourself you would be fine.

“Ok,” you said softly on a sigh, letting yourself sink into the comforting massage of Steve’s fingers. Your body felt a little heavy, a throbbing desire pulsing in your core, but suspected it had more to do with the hot tattoo artist’s fingers than anything else.

Blinking your eyes open, you met Steve’s steady, patient gaze. 

“We can keep going,” you said, giving him a smile that you hoped looked brave.

You must’ve succeeded, because Steve’s mouth curved into a pleased grin and his hand slid higher up your leg and settled on your thigh just above your knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. His big palm on your bare skin sent a riot of sensation through your body, and when he squeezed you, you felt a mirroring clench of your inner muscles, your body aching to be filled.

“That’s my girl,” Steve murmured affectionately, his blue eyes glimmering with so much proud satisfaction that you felt your face heat and you ducked your head to hide a giddy grin. 

Steve gave your thigh one last squeeze before pulling away to put on a new pair of gloves and refill his tattoo needle.  While he worked, you couldn’t help but close your eyes and sigh silently, your skin feeling much too cold without him touching you.

For the rest of the tattoo, you tried to sit still while the tingling warmth rolled through your body, settling deliciously between your thighs and teasing your throbbing core until you were dripping into your panties. You had the absurd urge to spread your legs, to beg Steve to fill you—with his fingers, his cock, anything, so long as it put an end to the ache pulsing insistently in your body. 

You tried to be good, to be still and quiet so Steve could finish your tattoo. But apparently you weren’t doing as good of a job as you hoped. 

“If you keep squirming, ‘m gonna have to tie you down, pretty girl,” Steve rumbled, his head bent low over your ankle while he worked diligently. 

His voice was so low and deep, you swore you could feel it in your belly, the delicious rumbling tenor teasing your clit, and your hips shifted again, your thighs clenching tight against your needy slit. 

“Sweetheart,” he growled in warning, his hand gripping your foot firmly and tugging on it hard enough that you slid a few inches down in the chair. 

It took every ounce of your self-control not to whimper with desire at the evidence of Steve’s strength. Your imagination flooded with visions of him tossing you around in his tattoo chair, bending you over while he pressed his bulge into your ass or flipping you onto your back and folding you in half so he could pound into your pussy. 

A whine clawed up your throat, desperation flooding your body and making you want to writhe and beg and plead, but you bit it all back. Forcing yourself to be still, you asked, “Are you almost done?” in a tight, tense voice. 

“Almost done,” he confirmed, his voice soothing. He looked up briefly, giving you a rakish grin. “You can be good for me, can’t you, sweet girl?” 

Your heart lurched in your chest. It was all you wanted, to be good for Steve. So you nodded eagerly and tried to relax back into the chair. Your fingers were digging into the padded leather of the armrests and you pushed yourself deeper into the reclined seat, doing your best to ignore the heat and desperate, aching, insistent need pounding through your body.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you said on a small huff, your eyes shut tight so you couldn’t see Steve’s reaction. Your voice was little more than a whine as you went on, “I’ve never felt like this.”

You heard Steve chuckle, the sound rolling over you like a deep, delicious wave. Then, just barely over the buzzing of the tattoo needled pressed to your skin, you thought you heard him say, “Just wait, sweet thing,” in a dark, ominous voice you hardly recognized.

But you didn’t have a chance to try to parse out what he meant, because suddenly, you felt the sensation of a cold, hard shackle closing around your ankle.

It felt so real, and so at odds with the sensation of Steve pulling the needle away from your skin, that your whole body jerked. Quickly, you sat up and stared down at your leg, but there was no metal cuff. Only the tattoo. Finished.

Fresh black ink shimmered from your skin, and you had a brief moment to appreciate the artistry of Steve’s work, the beautiful, intricate design of the symbol. The phantom feeling of a manacle wrapped around your ankle remained, and you looked up at Steve, finding him wearing a smug, devious smirk. 

You couldn’t make sense of his expression, and in the next breath, it didn’t matter, because the fire that had been simmering in your blood suddenly blazed into an inferno. You couldn’t help the pained cry that fled your lips as you fell back into the chair, desire burning a demanding path through your body and tearing through your mind. 

Your legs fell open on the leather seat, a pornographic moan slipping from your lips when the cool air of the tattoo shop brushed against your inner thighs. Your fingers tugged fussily at your sweater, trying to claw off the once-cozy garment that suddenly felt too heavy and constricting against your scorching skin. 

Your eyes swiveled in your head, seeking and finding Steve, who was standing beside the chair and staring down at you. His gaze was lit with a depraved fire and his mouth was curled into a delighted grin.

“Aw, poor little plaything, are you feeling hot and bothered?” he cooed at you in a mean, patronizing tone that was so at odds with the charming affability you’d come to expect from the tattoo artist that you felt like you’d been slapped. 

A pathetic whimper slipped from your lips, and Steve’s eyes seemed to glow brighter, his smile hitching wider, growing more hungry and more eager at the same time. Leaning over your squirming body, Steve stroked the tips of his fingers down your cheek.

Your body’s reaction to his touch was instantaneous. The burning, blistering pain of need calmed enough that it no longer hurt, and you chased Steve’s fingertips instinctively, associating his contact with relief. He let you nuzzle into the palm of his hand, chuckling darkly when you sighed happily, your mind moving too slow to process what was happening.

“Should we get this cumbersome sweater off you, sweet thing?” Steve murmured, his hands curving around your shoulders before stroking down your sides. His thumbs brushed over the tips of your breasts and your spine arched off the chair, pushing into his touch, needing more. 

You were so hot, so achy, so needy, and you somehow knew Steve was the only one who could help you feel better. Distantly, you knew it was highly inappropriate to let your tattoo artist undress you, even one as hot as Steve, but in that moment, you didn’t care. His touch through your sweater wasn’t enough—you needed him to touch your bare skin. 

So you nodded frantically, whimpering, “Yes, please, Steve, help.”

The man laughed, a dark, evil chuckle rumbling from his chest. 

You didn’t understand what was funny, but you didn’t protest because his big hands slipped under the hem of your sweater and he touched you properly. His palms were warm, his fingers calloused and rough against your belly. 

You sucked in a surprised breath when his touch sent sizzling tingles of pleasure through your body, gathering in your throbbing slit and making more wetness gush into your panties. 

If you’d been in your right mind, you might’ve felt embarrassed over how wet you were from Steve sliding his hands up your stomach, but all you could do was revel in the pleasure his touch brought you. Your mouth curved into a delirious smile as you stared dazedly up at the supernaturally handsome man like he was the center of your universe.

Slowly, almost torturously, Steve slid your sweater up until it bunched above your breasts and he paused. His hands wrapped around your ribs, thumbs stroking over your skin beneath the band of your bra. He stared down at you, his blue eyes nearly glowing with hungry desire as his gaze raked over the lace containing your breasts.

Your chest heaved with your gasping breaths, and you took the moment to try to settle. The fire in your blood didn’t burn painfully with Steve touching you, but you still wanted—no, needed—more. Your hips squirmed in the leather seat and a whine clawed up your throat until it spilled free.

“Steeeve, please,” you begged, staring up at the tattoo artist with wide, imploring eyes. At the same time, you lifted your arms above your head and sat up a little in an effort to get him to pull your sweater the rest of the way off. Instead of spurring him to move, though, it had the opposite effect. 

Steve went still, closing his eyes like he was savoring the sound of your whining voice and begging words. When he opened them a moment later, they appeared darker—the soft, sky blue of his irises darkened to an almost midnight black, with inky swirls of darkness creeping in from the edges.

Then he blinked, and his eyes went back to normal. 

You were too distracted by your body’s need to think much about the fact that his eyes had gone nearly pitch black—that he’d looked, for a moment, like one of the monstrous demons from the art adorning the walls of Hell. 

Your delirious, desirous mind let the moment slip by unquestioned, instead focusing on your lust—and on Steve. 

“Lift up for me, pretty thing,” he cooed, his tone almost gentle despite the grit and gravel in his voice. 

You did as he said, lifting your back away from the chair so he could pull your sweater off, leaving you in just your bra, skirt and panties on his tattoo chair.

In the short moment when Steve’s hands deserted your body, the blazing inferno of need returned. You groaned in pain, reaching for Steve and latching on to his wrist. The burning sensation abated the second you touched him, but you didn’t stop there, dragging his hand back to your body and sighing in further relief when you pressed his palm to your breast. 

You didn’t know if Steve pushed you back into the chair or if you fell back and he followed, but he leaned over you, his big hands kneading your tits through your bra. A moan tumbled from you as you sank into the feeling, melting beneath his touch. It just felt so good—and the rougher he got, the harder he groped your tits, pulling and pinching on your nipples through the lace of your bra, the better it felt.

“That’s it, plaything, moan for me—let me hear how much you love it when I abuse your tits,” Steve growled, leaning so far over you that his head blocked out the light above the chair. His face was contorted into a greedy expression, his eyes sharp and hungry as he watched pleasure dance across your features. “You’re such a dumb little doll, you have no idea what’s heppening to you, do you?”

His tone was mean and mocking, but your body responded to the deep tenor of it all the same, wetness gushing between your thighs while your hips writhed on the leather seat, seeking something to grind against. 

Your mind was hazy with lust and pleasure and confusion. It took you a long few moments to understand what he’d asked and when you did, it sparked a bit of fear. But even that dissolved into pleasure and you moaned, your hands clinging to Steve’s wrists—not trying to pull him away, just anchoring yourself to him. 

“Wha-what’s happening to me?” you whined breathlessly, blinking your eyes up at Steve with an equal amount of uncertainty and trust. You still didn’t realize he was the reason for what was happening, but you’d come to learn that soon enough. Not that it would matter.

“Oh, baby, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that,” Steve cooed, his tone changing so quickly back to gentle and reassuring, it nearly gave you whiplash. 

Still, pleasure swirled in your chest at the sweet praise in his words, even if they were more than a little condescending. A smile curled the corners of your lips, but you forced yourself to focus. There was something you wanted to know—something Steve knew, and you were determined to get the answer from him. You knew it was important, even if you couldn’t remember why.

“Steve, pleeease,” you whimpered, your words dissolving into a moan when he shoved the lace cups of your bra down and pinched your nipples harder, pulling and twisting them until your spine was arching up off the leather seat. It took you a long moment to remember your train of thought and continue on. “Tell me, Steve, please, I can handle it—what’s happening to me?” 

A wide smirk spread across Steve’s face and his eyes flickered with shadows that seemed to want to consume his gaze the same way he looked like he wanted to consume you. Bending over your squirming, twitching body, Steve’s face hovered just above yours, an evil kind of mischief in his expression. 

“If I tell you, do you promise you’ll take it like a good girl?”

Images assailed your imagination—Steve shoving his cock deep in your cunt, growling at you to take it like a good girl while he fucked you like a bat out of hell. Steve pounding into your mouth, grunting his pleasure as he spilled down your throat and ordered you to take it like a good girl. Steve stretching your ass around his cock, smoothing a hand down your spine as he cooed at you in that meanly patronizing tone to take it like a good girl. 

A loud, debauched moan slipped from your lips as bliss pulsed through your body. It took you a long moment to push the images from your mind and gather your scattered thoughts enough to blink your eyes open and nod up at Steve.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you said fiercely, knowing somewhere deep down that if you were a good girl for him, the visions you’d had would become a reality. And you wanted so badly for them to become a reality—at any cost. 

A devious, delighted grin spread across Steve’s face at your answer, satisfaction shimmering in his eyes. Then one of his hands let go of your breast and skimmed down your body, over your hip and down your leg until his fingers circled your ankle, just above the tattoo he’d given you. 

“This design you chose, it’s not just something I designed—it’s my mark,” he purred, putting emphasis on the last two words as if you’d know what that meant. But you still didn’t understand what your tattoo had to do with what was happening to you. His explanation just made you more confused.

“What does that mean?” you whimpered, your voice desperate and pleading. You wanted to understand, you wanted to be good for Steve and grasp whatever it was he was trying to tell you, but the meaning of his words was still out of reach.

“Think hard, sweetheart,” Steve cooed, his voice turning sweet in a way that had your belly swooping deliciously. 

When you still didn’t seem to understand, Steve’s hand slid down, his palm covering your fresh tattoo and you gasped. His touch against the mark felt like he was yanking on a thread that had been tied behind your belly button. It felt like you were tethered to something…to him, you realized. 

You were tethered to Steve by some sort of magic. The mark he’d tattooed on your skin had bound you to him…

All the air fled your lungs as comprehension sank into your mind. Your face twisted in shock and understanding, though the expression didn’t last long. 

“There it is, that’s my girl,” Steve praised, squeezing your ankle and pressing his palm more firmly down on the mark. 

The touch dragged a reluctant moan from you as pleasure swirled through your body, and you weren’t certain if it was your own or the result of the bond between the two of you. When you got control of yourself, you glared up at the devious tattoo artist, letting him see the betrayal written plainly across your face.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, baby,” Steve rumbled, his other hand wrapping around the front of your throat and tipping your chin up while he bent down until there were mere inches between you. “You heard the story, and you ignored its warning.” He tsked at you, shaking his head when you only narrowed your eyes in anger. “You weren’t careful about getting tattooed on Friday the 13th and now you’re enslaved to a dark force—you’re enslaved to me.”

He didn’t give you a chance to react to that declaration, only closed the distance between your lips, covering your mouth with his own to steal a kiss. And, god help you, what a kiss it was. 

Steve’s mouth slanted perfectly to yours, his lips soft and seeking as they brushed against yours. His tongue flicked out, licking along the seam of your lips as if asking for entry, and you were helpless to the pleasure he offered. 

Your lips parted with a soft gasp, an invitation if ever there was one, and he wasted no time slipping in. Steve took possession of your mouth, plundering your body while his hands held you firmly pinned beneath him. 

It wasn’t long before you were moaning into his mouth and kissing him back, your fingers plunging into his soft, blond hair and nails digging into the skin at the nape of his neck until he was growling into your mouth. 

His hand around your neck squeezed harder, choking you lightly in retaliation for the bite of your nails and you pulsed with so much heat, you cried out sharply, the sound transforming into a whine of need. 

Steve nipped your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, and the coppery taste mixed with the heat of his tongue as he licked it from your mouth. When he pulled away a moment later, you could see the traces of red staining his lips—though that wasn’t nearly as disturbing as the sight of his eyes. 

Writhing shadows had blotted out the blue irises of his gaze, leaving only two fathomless pools of darkness shimmering in the warm lights of Hell. A shiver raced down your spine, unease and curiosity filling your chest as you stared at the suddenly inhuman visage of the handsome tattoo artist. 

Steve Rogers was still attractive, even with the unnatural eyes of a demon, but the shadows in his gaze changed the terrain of his face. His teeth looked sharper in his mouth, and the curve of his smirk looked more cruel. His jaw looked more angular and his body seemed bigger, broader, more intimidating as he loomed above you. 

And yet…

You liked how Steve looked when he’d shed the pretense of humanity. He was somehow, impossibly, hotter. More dangerous, sure, but also freer in a way that you found enticing. 

It took you a moment, your mind swimming with pleasure and the tingling remnants of his kiss, to pinpoint exactly what you liked about seeing Steve without the guise he must’ve been wearing. He was more himself. And this version of him, this demonic visage, called to the darkness inside of you in a way that made you feel like he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

Pressing a palm to your forehead like you could push that thought straight out of your head, you forced yourself to focus on the present. “Nooo,” you moaned in a small voice, mostly to yourself because you were already thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to belong to Steve, especially if he belonged to you, too. 

But, for all you could feel the bond between you and the demon strengthening and solidifying as your tattoo healed supernaturally fast, his desire and lust mixing with your own, he still couldn’t read your mind. And he must’ve thought you were protesting the newfound connection between the two of you.

“Ohh yes, sweetheart,” Steve growled, his fingers digging into the sides of your throat and tipping your face up so he could see your eyes. 

The two shimmering pools of darkness were writhing with agitation, and you stared at them in wonder, your mouth falling open with awe. They were just as beautiful as his human eyes, looking like the surface of the deep ocean at night. 

“You’re mine, pretty little plaything,” Steve rasped, his voice low and dark and vehement, like he was determined to make you understand your new reality. “Your heart, your body, your soul—it’s all mine,” he went on, pausing only to capture your lips in a brief, but searing kiss, like he was marking you all over again. “You’re bound to me for eternity, baby, enslaved to all my whims, and I bet you know what I want rigt now.”

You did know. You could feel Steve’s lust slinking through the bond, flooding your body and creating the burning need that was so painful when he wasn’t touching you. But beneath it, you could feel your own desire, too. The yearning you’d felt for the tattoo artist that had only grown since you’d discovered his true nature as the demon from the Friday the 13th legend. 

Watching your face keenly, Steve let go of your ankle, grabbing one of your wrists and bringing your hand to the bulge in his pants. It was so big and hot and hard, even through the stiff denim of his jeans, that you whimpered. But you didn’t pull away, letting Steve use his grip to make you stroke his cock. And when he groaned his pleasure, your fingers tightened, giving his thick length a curious squeeze. 

“This is what you do to me, pretty girl, this is why you’re the one I chose,” he growled, his voice so deep, it sounded animalistic. “I knew from the moment you walked into my shop with your sweet little skirt and your dark little heart that you were going to be mine—and now I’ve got you.” 

It occurred to you to ask what he meant about your heart, but you suspected you knew. He’d looked deep into your heart and soul saw the darkness there—and it was exactly what he wanted. 

The knowledge that you were what he wanted filled you with a sense of pride, and you took over from Steve. You stroked his cock through his jeans without his guidance, squeezing him while you stared up at him, devotion written across your face while you pressed your throat into his hand, knowing the tattoos on his fingers were making a pretty necklace.

“You’re my precious little plaything, aren’t you, baby?” Steve cooed at you, sweeping his thumb over your jaw and swiping it across your lower lip. “Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy being mine.”

You ducked your head, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking on him, your eyes going heavy lidded as you nodded your agreement. Steve grunted a pleased sound.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he purred, pressing his thumb onto your tongue and pushing deeper into your mouth. “You’re gonna be such a good fucktoy for your demon master, aren’t you?”

You could feel Steve’s cock twitch beneath your fingertips and you squeezed him harder, moaning when you felt an answering pulse deep in your cunt. The burning desire that had been held at bay by the realization of what exactly he was and what he’d done to you returned with a fury that would not be ignored.

“Yes, master,” you murmured obligingly after tipping your head back to slide him from your mouth. You pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb and smiled up at Steve, your eyes hungry and eager.

The demon’s gaze darkened further somehow, filling with greed and lust and just about every sin you could imagine—all promising to do dirty, filthy things to your body in the name of slaking the desire that burned brightly in both of you. 

“I knew you were perfect,” he growled, grabbing your throat and pulling you in for another kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, his kiss inciting the fire in your body to burn hotter, making the throbbing between your legs impossible to ignore. 

While he kissed you breathless, your fingers kept stroking his cock through his jeans, your other hand sliding beneath the hem of his t-shirt to rake your nails through the thin trail of hair dusting his abs. Both of you groaned at the contact, Steve’s tongue plunging into your mouth as his hips thrust against your palm. 

Just as quickly as he’d dragged you into the kiss, Steve pulled away, shoving you roughly back into the chair. Your back hit the padded leather, a light, “oomph,” of surprise tumbling from your lips. One of his hands gripped your thigh possessively, fingers digging into your soft flesh while he leaned down and pulled a lever somewhere on the chair.

The footrest dropped away, allowing Steve to step between your legs, his hands groping roughly at your thighs, your hips, your tits. A low rumbling growl sounded in his chest every time his hand touched a piece of your clothing, as if they offended him personally. You squirmed in your seat, trying to find the words to beg him to take off the rest of your clothes, but all you could manage was a desperate whine.

“Are you still feeling hot, baby?” Steve asked, his tone playfully condescending as he skimmed his hands up your bare legs and tugged on the hem of your skirt—which, at that point, was barely covering anything with the way your legs were splayed open around his hips. “Should we get rid of the rest of these tiresome clothes?” 

You were nodding your head before he even finished his question, his hands making quick work of unzipping your skirt and tugging on it until you lifted your hips so he could drag it down along with your panties. He stepped back so he could pull them off your legs, raking his gaze up your body and pointedly looking at your bra.

“Take it off, fucktoy,” he growled, his tone going mean again. 

The quick change of his mood had you gasping with surprise, even as his rough voice made you gush more wetness between your thighs. You didn’t know if you’d ever get used to the demon’s mercurial moods, but you liked the unpredictability—it meant you’d never grow bored.

Scrambling to do as Steve said, you pushed forward from the chair to unclip your bra and ripped it off, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor. When that was done, the demon shoved your legs open and stepped back between them, pushing your legs up to drape over the armrests of the chair.

“Good girl,” Steve rumbled, stroking his hands down your thighs, digging his fingers in suddenly, hard enough to make you squeal and squirm. He chuckled, looking like he enjoyed your reaction, and pushed your legs wider, spreading you so fully, you felt a twinge of discomfort in your hip. But the pain was soothed away a moment later by the pleasure throbbing through your body.

A sharp exhale gusted from Steve the moment he laid his eyes on your bare pussy. He was staring down at you like you were everything to him, like you were the center of his universe. He looked like he was a mere second away from getting down on his knees and worshipping at the altar of your body.

More surprising than the way he was looking at you was what you could feel through the bond tethering you to the demon. You could feel his devotion in your soul, the sensation curling round your heart and filling you with a sense of adoration that was both yours and Steve’s. 

As much as you were his, you knew, with absolutely certainty, that he was yours, too. For better or for worse.

But the longer Steve stared down at your body, his hands unable to stop touching you—exploring every inch of your skin, his palms cupping your breasts, thumbs stroking over you nipples before he curved his fingers around your ribs and skimmed down to your hips, feeling you, learning you—the more you began to believe it wasn’t so bad being bonded to a demon.

You hadn’t noticed your gaze had drifted away from the demon, staring unseeingly over his shoulder while you reveled in the feel of him touching you, until his hand came down sharply on your slit, slapping your pussy so sharply, you cried out in surprise, tears springing to your eyes. Pleasure and pain burned through you, writhing and fighting for dominance, and you were helpless to the sensation.

“Eyes on me, fucktoy,” Steve growled, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. His fingers dug into your cheeks, his face looming over yours while his hand came down again, spanking your cunt and making your whole body jerk in the leather chair from the sharp, stinging pleasure. “You’re my dumb little cock slave, and you’ll look at me like a good girl when I’m playing with you like you’re my own personal fuck doll—got it?”

The demon punctuated his seething question with another spank to your pussy, and it was the hardest of all, but though you expected pain, you felt only pleasure. A loud, pornographic moan, spilled from your lips while your mind swirled, your whole body throbbing like you were one big nerve ending. 

Forcing your eyes open, you found Steve watching you expectantly. You gasped for air and scrambled for words “Yes, master,” you cried, surprising even yourself when you shouted, “I’m your good little fucktoy!” 

Steve seemed appeased, a satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth while his fingers rubbed through your drenched folds. “You are, baby,” he assured you. “You’re such a good little plaything for your master.” 

His words were an alluring purr, soothing you. Then, he surprised you by shoving three of his fingers into your cunt, making your whole body shudder from the unrelenting and sudden fullness.

“Oh god,” you moaned, pleasure ricocheting violently through your body. You squirmed in the chair, feeling your pussy spasm with delight, your wetness gushing out of you and dripping down between your ass cheeks, making a mess on the chair. 

“God’s not going to help you now, sweet thing,” Steve rumbled with a smirk, pulling his fingers out of you before pushing them deep into your sopping wet hole again. “You sold your soul to me, He has no dominion over you anymore—you’re mine for eternity.”

His thumb rubbed your clit and you cried out helplessly, barely hearing his words as your body focused on the pleasure he was giving you. He pushed deeper, his fingers stroking a spot inside you that had your spine arching and your hips bearing down on his delicious intrusion. You were so wet, he fucked you easily with his three fingers, spreading them wide to stretch you open. 

“Oh fuck,” you whined, your whole body shaking with need while the demon fucked you slowly with his fingers. You watched them slide into you, your folds swollen and puffy from his rough spanking. He was moving with a torturous laziness and you squirmed, mewling for more, “Faster, Steve, please.” 

Suddenly, Steve’s fingers pulled free from your obscenely wet pussy, and a second later they were being shoved into your mouth. Your sweet, musky taste exploded on your tongue as the demon pushed them deep, making you gag on his slick fingers while he loomed above you. 

“What did you call me?” he seethed through gritted teeth, the dark shadows of his eyes roiling like a churning sea.

“M’m sowwy,” you mumbled around his fingers, drool dripping down your chin and tears spilling onto your cheeks. 

Steve’s mood immediately calmed at the sight of your tears and he made a soft shushing sound as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. “There, there, my sweet little plaything,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss and lick the salty tears from your skin. “I like it better when you call me master—can you be a good girl and call me master?”

The way Steve was bent over you, the bulge in his jeans pressed into your leaking cunt and you rubbed against him like a cat in heat, your hole aching to be filled, but you knew you had to answer his question first. 

“Yes, master,” you whimpered, “I’mma be a good girl, I swear.” 

“That’s my girl,” Steve purred, swiping the drool from your chin and pressing a kiss to your mouth. It was sweet and slow, his mouth praising you without words and making your head spin with the feeling of affection slipping through the bond. 

When he pulled away, Steve gave you a stern look, his brow lowered over his black eyes and his mouth pressed into a firm line. 

“Now, I can feel you rubbing your cute little cunt on my cock, baby,” he rumbled, his hands groping your thighs, but not pinning you down to make you stop. So you kept humping against him, your body shameless in its need for him. “But I want you to use your words—what do you want from your master?”

“Fuck me, master—please, oh g-fuck, I need your cock, master, please, please, please give it to me,” you babbled, blinking away the last of your tears to stare up into the handsome face of your demon. 

You could still feel his lust and desire and fondness thrumming through the bond he’d created, but beneath that, deep in your own heart, you felt your own affection swell. You’d had a crush on Steve before he’d sealed the bond, and—god help you—those feelings didn’t waver in light of his trickery. If anything, every touch, no matter how rough or soft, only strengthened them. 

Steve’s fingers dug into the plush flesh of your thighs, his grip possessive as he stared down at you with a satisfied smirk. 

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you beg for me, baby—not for a millennia, at least,” he murmured, ducking down to capture your swollen lips in a kiss. 

At the same time, he rubbed his bulge against your sensitive pussy, making you cry out so that he could swallow the sound down. 

Kissing him back, you whimpered into his lips, need burning through your body and making you impatient. Your fingernails raked down the front of Steve’s chest, reveling in the way his firm muscles contracted, and the sharp little breaths he took. 

You hooked your fingers under the lower hem and tugged the shirt up with a desperate whine until Steve yanked it off over his head, breaking your kiss for only a second. 

Your fingers explored the smooth planes of Steve’s chest, brushing over his beautiful tattoos as you traced his hard muscles. All the while, he kissed you, devoured you, his own hands kneading your thighs and your tits and plucking at your nipples until you were writhing mindlessly beneath him. 

“Please, master,” you keened, arching your spine and pushing your tits into his palms. “Fuck me, pleeease!” You tugged demandingly on the waist of his jeans, your fingers fumbling to undo the buckle of his belt.

Steve only chuckled maddeningly, rubbing his clothed cock into your sopping wet pussy while he pressed kisses to your jaw. 

“C’mon, baby, you can beg better than that, can’t you?” he rumbled, his tone playful and warm, but it quickly turned dark and demanding. “Beg me to split you open on my dick, to fucking ruin your pretty little pussy with my fat demon cock—use your filthy mouth, sweetheart, tell me all the dirty things you want your evil master to do to you.”

“Oh fuck, yes,” you groaned, squirming beneath him and humping shamelessly against his bulge. “Please, master—please ruin me, hurt me, abuse me,” you cried, not knowing where the words were coming from, but you suspected they were being ripped right from that dark place deep in your heart, your soul. “Fill my holes with your demon cock and pump me full of cum, wanna be bulging with your seed, master—wanna be your dumb little fucktoy for all eternity. Make me yours, please!”

You cut off on a broken, desperate sob, and Steve’s mouth covered yours with an animalistic roar, kissing you hard—like he was branding you all over again. It made you moan louder, kissing him back just as fervently.

Your head spun from Steve’s kiss, but you could feel his hands fumbling between your legs. Then, the hot, hard length of him smacked against your swollen, smarting pussy, making you cry out into his mouth. 

Steve drank down your sounds greedily, like they were the nectar of the gods. His tongue pushed into your mouth, licking into you as if trying to lap up your pleasured noises straight from their source.

“You’re fucking perfect, baby,” Steve praised when he pulled away, his voice silky and earnest in a way that made your heart warm in your chest. 

His mood had switched again, and you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the way it could shift like the wind. It was exciting and thrilling—like riding your own personal roller coaster. But no matter how his mood seemed to shift, you always felt his affection through the bond. Your demon was just fickle about how he liked to show that affection.

“Such a good fucking girl for me, ‘m gonna give you exactly what you want, sweet thing,” Steve went on, rubbing his hot, hard length through your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness. “Gonna bury my cock in your holes for an aeon, keep you dumb and drunk on my cock, gonna make you my precious little plaything.” 

“Yes, master, please,” you whimpered, your hands finding Steve’s waist and pulling your bodies closer, your ass sliding to the edge of the chair. “Fuck my tight little hole, please—please!” 

Something in Steve seemed to snap, and with a snarl, he folded you in half in his leather tattoo chair, pushing your knees to your chest and lining up the head of his cock with your weeping entrance. In the next breath, he shoved his cock deep into your cunt, splitting you open with such a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure that your screams filled the whole of Hell. 

Steve gave you only a moment to adjust to the sheer girth of his thick, massive cock before he pulled back and snapped his hips forward, the sound of his thighs hitting your ass making a loud clapping sound. 

Your mouth fell open, the most obscene, pornographic moans coming from your lips. Against your will, your eyes slid closed.

Grabbing the back of your head to hold it still, Steve slapped your cheek—hard—making your eyes fly back open. The stinging pain blurred into a deep, aching pleasure, and your cry of surprise devolved into a lewd moan. 

“What did I tell you, fucktoy?” Steve growled, slapping you again, harder. The pools of his eyes churned dangerously, his mouth twisted with determination as he reminded you of his earlier command. “Keep your fucking eyes on me.”

Though you knew his strikes were meant to be punishing, he was keeping a tight leash on his strength. His hand smarted but he never truly hurt you. 

It was more degrading, feeling Steve slap your face, and you enjoyed it much more than you would’ve expected. The sounds of your desperate, depraved pleasure spilling freely from your lips. 

When you managed to focus your gaze on your demon, you found Steve watching you with a smug smirk on his face. 

“Do you like it when I slap you, sweet thing?” he cooed, his hips driving into yours, fucking you deep and hard with his thick cock while he held the back of your head. He didn’t wait for an answer, slapping you again, letting your face twist to the side before forcing you back to look at him. “Do you want me to hurt you more, pretty girl?”

“Yes, master!” you cried, surprising even yourself. But you were greedy for the mixture of pain and pleasure Steve offered, finding you were quickly growing addicted to the wicked way he made you feel. “Play rough with your fucktoy—please, master, I want it!”

“Good girl,” Steve purred, grinning wider and using his free hand to slap your tits, your thighs, anywhere he could reach. The sharp smacking sounds joined with the clapping of his hips against your ass and the obscene wet noises of your pussy being fucked. “You’re such a perfect little plaything, baby, taking it like such a good girl for your master.”

Steve leaned more heavily on top of you, his hips pressing his cock so deep, you sobbed with pleasure, feeling like he was pushing into your cervix. Pain and pleasure made your mind spin, and your hands clung to Steve’s thick biceps, your nails digging sharply into his skin.

Your demon hissed out a breath at the bite of your nails, his hips stuttering and fucking more powerfully into you. He slammed against a spot deep inside your cunt that had you thrashing beneath him in the leather chair, clawing at him even more.

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart, hurt me back,” he growled, his tone taunting you meanly as he went on. “Show me what ya got, I can take it.” 

Darkness rose inside of you, and though it was tempting to believe it was solely the effect of the demon’s mark on your body, you knew it wasn’t. This was the darkness that had grown within you over the years, the one that had called out to the demon and had been so pleased when he answered your call by binding you to him for an eternity of sinful servitude. 

Skimming your hands up to Steve’s shoulders, you didn’t miss the way he looked a little disappointed at your light touch. You curled your lips in an impish grin—the only warning you gave him before you dug your nails deep into his skin, dragging them down over his inked shoulders and biceps as hard as you could.

Though you didn’t break skin, dark red lines appeared on his pale skin where it shone through and Steve groaned loudly, his hips twitching before he picked up his pace. He fucked you faster, with punishingly violent strokes that had you babbling an endless stream of pleasured noises.

“That’s it, plaything, let it out—take it out on me,” he growled encouragingly. 

You didn’t know what exactly he was prompting you to let out, but you suspected it had something to do with the darkness churning in your chest. And his reaction, his pleasure in response to the pain you’d given him, lit something inside you. The darkness unfurled further as you finally let it free, and you felt Steve’s encouragement through the bond you shared.

Tilting your hips up so that Steve could pound harder and deeper into your pussy, you reached around to his lower back, raking your nails up the long length of his muscles. You pressed so deep, you would’ve gouged into a human’s skin. But your demon was made of sturdier stuff, and he simply grunted in pleasure, fucking you harder—so hard, it nearly hurt.

Steve was glorious above you, his demented coal-black eyes staring down at you with a fathomless greed you could feel thrumming in your own heart. It made you want to hurt him. It made you want to love him. 

Frightened by both impulses, you grabbed Steve by the back of his neck, digging your nails into his skin as you pulled him down. Instead of kissing him, though, your face buried into the crook of his neck and you sank your teeth into the spot at the base of his throat, the one free of ink, biting him hard enough you thought you might actually pierce the demon’s skin.

He tasted like fire and smoke and salt. 

Steve’s growling groan rumbled in his throat and you felt it against your cheek, moaning in answer while you licked his warm, golden skin. You sucked on him hard, wanting to leave your own mark on your demon, sinking your teeth in further while his cock pressed deep inside you.

Your demon allowed it for a moment, then his hand wrapped around the front of your throat and he pushed you away, pinning you hard against the back of the tattoo chair while he climbed on top of you. The back gave way until you were laying flat and Steve’s big body was covering yours. 

The chair rocked dangerously, but stayed upright and Steve caged you in beneath him, fucking you in slow, lazy strokes.

“You bite me like that again, sweetheart, and ‘m gonna blow my load way too soon,” he grumbled, glaring at you, though there wasn’t any heat to it. Especially since you could feel his pleasure through the bond. 

“Oops,” you said, unable to hold back your giggle. Steve didn’t look nearly as amused as you felt, so you forced yourself to look a little contrite as you pouted and simpered, “Sorry, master.”

Shaking his head and huffing a laugh, you felt his humor slip through the bond and saw his mouth flicker in a smile. 

“Baby, baby, baby, what am I gonna do with you, huh?” he purred. Tilting his head to the side, he considered you with smirk. “You’ve only been bound to me for an hour and I’ve already corrupted you, sweetheart.” 

He ducked down, dragging his nose from the base of your throat up to your jaw, nipping at the spot just below your ear that had you moaning softly. Your legs clung to his sides, holding him close in the cradle of your body while he kissed your neck.  

“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement, even though you both knew it was the darkness in your heart that had drawn him to you in the first place, not that he’d corrupted you. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me, master,” you said sweetly, lifting your hips to meet Steve’s languid strokes, gasping when the tip of his cock hit that spot deep inside you that had you seeing stars. 

At your words, Steve huffed a laugh, burying his face in your neck and mumbling against your skin, “As if I’d ever be able to let you go.” He rocked into your body, wringing another moan from you as he grunted his own pleasure. “Fuck, your cunt feels so good, ‘m not gonna last much longer.”

“Master, please, ‘m so close,” you whimpered into his ear. You wrapped one of your arms around his broad shoulders while your other hand dove into his soft, blond hair. You clung to your demon while he dug his arms beneath your back, holding you pinned beneath his body so he could rut ferociously into you.

“Bite me, baby,” Steve growled, pounding into you with short, hard thrusts, grinding the base of his cock against your clit with each one. “Mark me—show me I’m yours.” His voice was a desperate, greedy rasp, his need thrumming through your body through the bond, and you couldn’t think of doing anything but indulging him.

Your teeth sank deep into Steve’s neck, in the one spot that wasn’t covered in ink, and sucked hard on his skin, licking his throbbing pulse point at the same time. He growled wildly, his thrusts turning harder and meaner, his fingers slipping between your bodies to find your clit and rub ruthlessly.

You didn’t know which of you came first because it seemed like you both pushed each other over the edge in the same instant. 

The coil of pleasure deep in your belly snapped suddenly, and pleasure exploded through your body, leaving devastation in its wake as you screamed your release. At the same time, Steve groaned, long and loud, his cock throbbing deep inside your cunt while he spilled his seed into your fluttering channel. 

Your demon kept fucking you as you both rode out the waves of pleasure, your body clinging to his and milking his cock while he held you crushed to his chest. 

Your gasps for air turned to deeper breaths as you slowly came down from your peak, and you were distantly aware of Steve hauling you up from the chair and spinning around to sit while you sprawled in his lap.

As you recovered together, Steve’s fingertips danced up and down your spine while your head lay on his inked shoulder and you watched the red indents of your teeth slowly fade from his neck. A frown pulled at the edges of your mouth, and you wondered how on earth he’d managed to get tattooed if it was so difficult to leave a mark on his skin.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked in a deep, gruff voice, like he’d been on the brink of sleep. 

It took you a moment of being confused about how he could’ve possibly seen your frown before you remembered the bond. You still felt the tether to him, like a string tied behind your belly button, but you didn’t feel a tug on it until his palm skimmed down to your ankle and his hand closed over the tattoo he’d given you, which was healed somehow. 

“How did that heal so fast?” you asked, sitting up twisting around to look at your ankle. The sweeping, delicate curves peaked out from behind Steve’s hand, and you brushed your fingertips over the inked lines with wonder. 

“There was a drop of my blood in the ink,” Steve answered, and when you looked at him, he wore a mischievous smirk. “I told you the ingredients were all-natural, didn’t I?” he asked charmingly and shot you a wink, making you laugh and shake your head. 

But then your eyes fell on the spot on his neck where you’d bitten him. He’d healed so fast, you couldn’t see any trace of your teeth anymore, and you brushed your fingers over it sadly. Steve caught your hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to each of your fingertips.

“There’s a special method to tattooing a demon,” Steve answered your unasked question, skimming his free hand down his chest and over all the other ink on his skin. “I can teach you how,” he offered.

Your eyes had drifted down to his chest, tracing the lines of the tattoos that had been hidden by his shirt, but at his words, you glanced up—and were surprised to see the darkness had receded from his eyes, leaving them a bright, sky blue. The look he was giving you was earnest, and you felt it reflected in the bond that hummed in your body.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, ducking your head into the crook of his neck and licking the spot you wanted to mark. 

He still tasted like fire and salt and smoke and you wanted to savor him for an eon. With a sigh, you gave into the urge, licking and kissing him idly while you cuddled into his chest. Steve held you securely, your body still impaled on his half-hard cock while his cum dripped out of you, and you thought you could stay like that forever. 

Instead, after a few moments, you asked, “So what happens now? Do you take me back to hell or the underworld or whatever?”

A chuckle rumbled in Steve’s chest. The sound reverberated through your sternum where you were pressed together and you smiled into his neck.

“I figured we’d stick around Brooklyn for a couple decades, then we can head down below,” he murmured, tracing patterns on your lower back with one hand while the other gripped your ass possessively. “I think you’ll like it there—I’ve got all kinds of fun toys to play with.”

You could hear the depraved excitement in his tone and snorted a laugh. But then something occurred to you and you pushed up from his chest to sit back so you could see Steve’s face. He looked confused by your suddenly serious expression.

“When you say toys, you don’t mean other people you’ve bound to you, do you?” you asked him with your eyes narrowed. Your focus was almost entirely on the bond, waiting for his reaction. You knew you’d be able to tell if he was lying, or hiding something.

But you felt only amusement from him, and watched as a grin spread across his face. “Nah,” he said, his hand wrapping loosely around the front of your throat to pull you in for a kiss. “I’m not actually the demon from the urban legend,” he confessed. “It’s just one of the ways we trick pretty little humans like you to sell your souls to us—you really should’ve read the fine print of that contract you signed.”

You huffed an exasperated laugh, because what else could you do, and kissed your demon again. He chuckled into your kiss before deepening it, his mouth sliding possessively against yours. When he pulled away, he nipped your lower lip, soothing the sting away with his tongue as he growled into your mouth. 

“You’re the only soul for me, sweet girl.”

Your heart beat harder in your chest, and you felt his deep affection swirling with your own in your belly, twining together around your heart to create something real and deep. It was something that would grow and strengthen over the millennia you spent together.

You knew in that moment that there would be no running from the demon you’d unknowingly bound yourself to, and that you wouldn’t want to escape him anyway. Steve may have tricked you—and you’d make him grovel for your forgiveness for at least a century for that—but he was yours now, just as surely as you were his. 

“You’re the only demon for me, Steve Rogers.” 

You moaned for your demon when his hands grabbed your hips and began bouncing you on his hardened cock. His cum was still leaking out of your cunt, making a mess of both of you, but neither of you cared. Your kisses turned messy with your grunts and groans of pleasure, your bodies pushing each other toward the edge of another release as you gave in to the insatiable need you both felt for the other.

It would be a long time before that need was finally sated—so long that it was no longer Friday the 13th by the time you stumbled out of Hell, Steve’s heavy arm draped around your waist. His strong body kept you upright on unsteady knees while he walked you to his brownstone around the corner.

For years after that fateful Friday the 13th, you helped Steve keep up appearances as a tattoo artist, playing his devoted girlfriend during the day. Then at night, he took you home and made you his personal plaything, bending you over and fucking your ass with his fat demon cock or unloading his cum down your throat. 

In the rare moments when you weren’t fucking, Steve taught you how to tattoo, and the method of how to tattoo a demon specifically, all so you could leave your mark on his skin. You tattooed an outline of your teeth marks on his neck, in the spot he’d left open for you since the night you’d met.

You’d even included a drop of your blood in the ink, even though Steve said it wouldn’t strengthen the bond. But afterward, you did feel like you were close to him, and he admitted he felt it, too. 

Years later, Steve surprised you by asking you to marry him, and though you thought it was a little unnecessary, you said yes. It just seemed a bit like overkill to have a whole wedding ceremony when your souls were already bonded for eternity, but you had to admit it was a good time. Plus, all your friends and family cried happy tears—even the demons. 

Finally, when it began to get suspicious that you and Steve weren’t aging while the humans around you were, Steve passed on ownership of Hell to one of the other artists and he took you down below to the real thing. He carried you across the threshold of his house and welcomed you home, where you’d live happily together until you decided to go topside again.

There in hell, Steve spent centuries shattering you apart with his cock before rebuilding you, only to break you down into his dumb little fucktoy all over again. Together, you used every toy Steve owned. You were your master’s good little plaything while he delivered pain and pleasure that sent you to new planes of existence. 

Then, of course, Steve taught you how to use them all on him, too, because your demon master liked a little bit of pain, too.

You’d loved your time in Brooklyn with Steve Rogers, the tattoo artist and owner of Hell, but you loved your time in hell with your demon master even more. Together, you allowed yourselves to be truly free and give in to your darkness together. You allowed yourself to love him, and let him love you in return. 

It was everything you could have dreamed of, living a happy life for the rest of eternity with your demon in hell.

And all you had to do was follow one rule: When in hell, do as the demons do.

[onlymingyus]

Beautiful Liar

pairing; kim mingyu x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), toxic, angst, dark content, fluff

summary; Kim Mingyu's life has always been complicated, but you just add another layer. At least he is a beautiful liar.

dark content/content warnings; mafia au, murder, guns (used/sold/bought), cops, gun dealer!mingyu, mafia boss!jun (shut up), second in command/drug dealer!minghao, lawyer!wonwoo, blood, fighting/beating, drugs mentioned, smoking (cigarettes), alcohol, alludes to alcoholism, depression/anxiety, toxic relationships, commitment issues -- best friends sister to lover, bosses sister to lover, jun's sister!reader, soonyoung, dino (chan), vernon as side characters, names eunseok and haneul used (have no connection to riize and kiof), crying, food and drink as always, mentions being sick, doctor!reader, medical terminology and medical procedure/wound described -- as always i'm certain i have missed something. if there is anything glaring send me an ask.

smut warnings; dom!mingyu, mean dom!mingyu, brat!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, pulling out, creampie, cum on skin, cum play, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, edging/orgasm denial, degradation, pet names/degrading names, praise, impact play, pussy slapping, biting, crying from pleasure, dacryphilia, aftercare. as stated above, i am sure there is something i am forgetting. send an ask if it is glaring.   

w/c; 25.6k and some change (2.8k extra words for patreon bonus) 

beautiful liar - monsta x

a/n; thank you to my @junkissed for proofreading for me once again, i love you forever. i hope you all enjoy this one. i missed my boy so much and i wanted to expand a bit on gyu from shut up. give him a bit of life. its not the end of some of these characters, but we will see where they pop up in the future.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Put that box over there.” Wiping the sweat from the back of his neck, Mingyu sighs out his words gesturing with his free hand as Lee Chan and Kwon Soonyoung lift the large box full of guns from the back of the trailer and onto a table in front of him. It was hotter than usual today and Mingyu didn’t want to be at the bar on his Saturday, but yet here he was, ever diligent.

“What did you buy me?” 

Taking a breath to the sound of his boss, Mingyu puts on a good face before glancing towards Wen Junhui and letting the corner of his lips pull up, at least on one side. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jun, it was more that he was tired. Jun had gotten breaks over the past few months after a run in with Park Bonhwa, but Mingyu hadn’t. Things hadn’t gotten much better on the back end, they had just gotten quieter. 

Pointing at the box in front of him before picking up a pry bar, Mingyu grunts as he loosens the nails and takes off the top for Jun to see. 

“This one is Glocks and revolvers.” Gesturing with the pry bar towards where Chan and Soonyoung were pulling the other box from the truck, Mingyu tilts his head. “Should be rifles, mostly AKs. Just like you asked for, boss.” 

Jun knew what he had asked Mingyu to acquire for him, he just liked to see a job well done and Mingyu rarely disappointed, especially as of late. Slapping the larger man’s shoulder, Jun reaches in with his free hand to take out one of the revolvers, a Smith & Wesson, to test the balance in his hand. “It’s good work, Gyu. These should hold us over for a few weeks.” 

Putting the gun back into the box, Jun reaches up to scratch at his eyebrow as he glances towards Xu Minghao, his second in command, with a sigh on his lips. “Listen, speaking of. I’m going out of town for a few weeks. Gonna take Kitten on a little vacation.” 

Making a bit of a face at the pet name, Mingyu lifts his brows as Minghao rolls his eyes and speaks up, leaning against the table beside him. “Couldn’t call her anything else? She has a name.” 

Shooting his best friend a look, Jun scoffs and tilts his head. “Not any name that matters; I’ll call her what I want. The point stands, we are going out of town. Hao, you are in charge and Mingyu...” 

Hearing his name, Mingyu straightens his back and meets Jun’s eyes, uncertain what is about to be said, but his anxiety seems to know before it’s even out of his mouth. 

“You’ll take on second. Don’t let my bar burn down.” 

As if he didn’t have enough of his plate already. Seeing the look in Jun’s eye, Mingyu puts on a good face and nods. “Got it.” 

Mingyu was a complicated man. There were some who knew him as a cheerful person, most of those people got to know him when he was drunk. There were those who knew him as threatening, those were the people who got to know him on a bad day, and then there were people who had known him for most of his life—those people could tell when he was bluffing. 

Following behind Mingyu after he had checked the last box and sent the others home for the day, Minghao watched his friend closely before finally speaking up, knowing they were alone, at least enough that he didn’t have to worry about being heard. “I won��t make you do anything you don’t already do while Jun’s out of town, Gyu.”

Leaning his head back in annoyance, Mingyu stops in his tracks at the sound of Minghao’s voice. He should have known he wasn’t alone and if it had been anyone else, he probably would have. Xu Minghao, however, was quiet, and that’s what had made Jun interested in him in the first place. 

Turning to face the man, Mingyu puts on the same face he had given Jun before shrugging. Even if Minghao gave him more to do, that wouldn’t be the end of the world; it wasn’t like he had a life outside of this bar anyway. Mingyu had known what he was getting into all those years ago when he took that first wad of cash from Jun. 

“I don’t care. You could send me to the moon to buy you a 1911 Colt and I’d make it fuckin’ happen.” Minghao could hear the stress in Mingyu’s voice and it caused the corners of his lips to turn down as he took a step closer to his friend. If anyone needed a vacation from here, maybe it was him, but he knew those were few and far between—Jun got what he wanted when he wanted it, but that was owner privilege. 

Reaching up to rub at his neck, Minghao glances back towards Jun’s office, hearing him talking low on the phone. He knew Jun’s schedule and what he could get away with and in theory, what Mingyu could get away with, at least for the time being. “Take tonight off. Jun doesn’t leave until tomorrow night. I’ll need your big ass here then, but I can’t have you tired and moping around the door like this tonight.” 

Scoffing, Mingyu shakes his head and tosses the towel he had been using in the warehouse into the laundry room as he starts to walk away from Minghao as he speaks up a bit louder to make sure he’s heard. “We don’t get nights off, Hao. I’m fine. I don’t trust anyone else at the doors. Anyone could walk in.”

Mingyu had already thrown out five people and the night had barely started. Minghao already felt like ripping his hair out as he heard another disgruntled patron trying to drunkenly state their case to the large man as he hauled them back towards the door. While Minghao didn’t disagree with most of the people that Mingyu had thrown out, some of it was for petty shit that on most nights they would look in the other direction of—like this one. 

“Man! What the fuck? I said I was sorry. My hand slip—slipped.” The man hiccuped through his explanation, but clearly Mingyu wasn’t hearing any of it as he pushed the door open and started to toss the man out towards the ground. 

Sighing, Minghao grabbed Mingyu’s arm, feeling the larger man push back against him, fire in his eyes, before he realized who had a hold of him. “What? Are you gonna punch me? Throw him out and meet me in the back. We need to talk.” 

The sound of the man’s body hitting the concrete makes Minghao shake his head as he hears those waiting in line let out a reaction. Some of them are amused and others seem shocked or horrified. Throwing up his hands, Mingyu meets some of their eyes before slamming the door and rolling his neck as he follows Minghao back towards the warehouse, feeling his blood boiling. 

“Can we make this quick? I really don’t trust Soonyoung on the door alone. He lets any chick through the door if she flashes her tits…” 

Shooting Mingyu a look, Minghao scoffs at the man’s words before running his hand over his face out of stress and impatience. “You used to too, Mingyu. Cut him some fuckin’ slack… matter of fact, cut everyone some slack tonight.” Minghao’s words are strained as he meets his friend’s eyes, seeing the same look he’s seen for weeks. 

Shaking his head, Mingyu lifts his hand to run it through his hair before turning away from Minghao to take a deep breath. He could feel himself getting angry at his friend and he didn’t want to let his anger get the best of him. He wasn’t like this all the time… just when he was stressed or tired and lately that was all he knew. 

“What—you know what, Hao? We spend all fucking night catering to these drunk assholes who grope the girls or pick fights with us and you expect me to just cut them some slack?” There was a layer of resentment in Mingyu’s voice as he finally turned back to face Minghao and meet his eyes. 

Throwing up his hands, Minghao groans, feeling his own frustration coming to a boiling point. He had tried to get Mingyu to take a night off but the big oaf had been too stubborn; now they were all paying for it. 

“I’m just saying that you need to chill the fuck out. It’s either that or you can go the fuck home. You understand me?” Watching Mingyu’s jaw clench, Minghao clenches his own and takes a step closer to the man he has known for the better part of a decade. “Go out there and enjoy this job—at least pretend to. Find a girl and get your dick wet—something! But stop walking around like you are going to knock everyone’s head off.” 

Mingyu wanted to. He really did. He had been spending more and more time in the gym with a punching bag in front of him, to the point that his knuckles would swell and bleed. Right now, he wanted to put someone’s head through a wall, but even thinking about it made his skin crawl. Minghao was right; he even knew this wasn’t like himself. He felt like he was drowning. 

Taking a shaky breath, Mingyu takes a step back from Minghao and runs his hand over his lips before looking around the room. “I just… I’m not sleeping. I’ll call it for the night, alright?” Mingyu didn’t look for sympathy and he didn’t want to look weak because he wasn’t. So even now, as he felt Minghao get closer to him, he wanted to bolt out of the room as bile rose in his throat. 

“Like I said—get your ass out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The sound of his phone going off made Mingyu feel like his head was going to explode. He had done what he said he was going to do after leaving work. He had gone home and gone to bed. It hadn’t been his fault that his sleeping partner had been a fresh bottle of Jack and that bottle now lay empty next to him. 

Smacking at the nightstand with a large hand, Mingyu swipes the phone from it and puts it to his ear with a groan as he answers it. “What?” His voice is deep, full of sleep, as Mingyu rests his forearm over his eyes, trying to block out the sun that dares to peek around his black out curtains. 

Jun smirks against his thumbnail as he hears the sound of Mingyu’s voice. He knew Mingyu had gone home early the night before and he had assumed that the man would be all bright eyed and ready to get on with his day; instead, he sounded like he had just crawled into bed. 

“Morning sweetheart. Did I wake you?” 

Whining to the sound of Jun’s voice, Mingyu turns to his side, laying the phone on the pillow next to him for a moment before putting it back against his ear and forcing his eyes open. If it were anyone else, he could tell them to shove their phone up their ass and not call them back, but no, it had to be Wen Junhui. 

“It was a long night. Do you need me? I can be there in like—” Mingyu starts to count up how long it would take him to shower off the stink of whisky and to get dressed when Jun smiles into his words and saves him the trouble. “I do need you, Gyu. I always do, but I’m already on the way to the airport. Much to my surprise, I need you for other things.” 

Furrowing his brows, Mingyu sits up with a pained groan, feeling the blood rush from his head and eyes. He knew Jun was picking on him, but what could he possibly need help with if he and his lady were already going out of town? Blinking a few times, Mingyu slides off the bed and rubs at his neck with his free hand as he trudges towards his kitchen. 

“What things? Guns?” Mingyu sounds confused and tired as Jun listens to the sound of him rummaging around his apartment. Turning to look at Haneul, his fiancée as he runs his fingers along her cheek, Jun sighs and shakes his head. “No, that’d be easier. I got a call earlier from my sister. She’s landing in a couple hours.” 

Taking a large gulp of water, Mingyu pauses midswallow, only to get choked at the thought of Jun having a sister. Did he know that? Had he met Jun’s sister? What did this have to do with him? Coughing, Mingyu shakes his head and takes a breath, barely hearing Jun sigh in annoyance until he catches his breath and wipes at his lips, his voice a bit strained. “Sister? Landing? Like a flight? Where?” 

“You are learning new words, Mingyu?” Feeling Haneul smack at his hand and telling him to be nice, Jun sighs and purses his lips before rolling his eyes and explaining. “Yes, my sister, Y/N. Her flight lands at Incheon at 4:45 pm. I want you to pick her up and take her to the family penthouse.” Pinching his brows, Jun shakes his head and lets out a breath. “She didn’t tell me until this morning she was even coming or else I would have... it doesn’t matter. Just keep her entertained until I get back.” 

His mouth felt dry as Mingyu nodded along with Jun’s words, as if they were a language that he understood. First he learned that Jun had a sister and now he was learning that he had to pick you up and keep you entertained. How did one entertain their boss’ sister? 

“Wha—sure…okay. What does Y/N like? Should I just take her to the lounge—-” 

“Fuck no. Don’t you fucking dare take her to the bar. She’s a respectable woman, Kim Mingyu. Keep her away from anything that is remotely underground, understand?” Waiting to hear Mingyu agree with him, Jun nods along with his ‘yes’ before continuing. “Also, keep it in your fucking pants.” 

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Mingyu tries to speak and come up with what to say in response to that, but the line goes dead, with Jun hanging up on him. Lowering his phone to the counter, Mingyu looks at the time and shakes his head. 2:15 pm… he had a little time to make sure he didn’t look like garbage.

“I don’t even know what Kim Mingyu looks like, Minghao.” You pout into your words as you roll your carry-on next to you towards baggage claim, your phone resting between your ear and shoulder. 

Minghao smiles at the sound of your voice as he shakes his head and sits down behind Jun’s desk at the lounge to turn on the laptop in front of him. “Look for a big idiot with nice hair. I’m sure he will have a sign with your name on it, honey.” 

Wrinkling your nose, you lift your eyes towards where most of the drivers and families were waiting, managing to see one man who stood out amongst the rest. He was tall, muscular, and gorgeous. Biting your lip, you try to see who’s name he’s holding, but the writing is messy, making it almost impossible to read unless you get closer. 

“Wow, is he really, um–” You try to think of how to ask Minghao about Mingyu when you sigh and bite the bullet, laughing. “Hot?” Lifting his brows, Minghao hears how you laugh and it makes him curious and a bit worried. He had already been told to tell Mingyu to behave, but did he need to tell you the same thing? “He’s... decent looking for an oaf, Y/N.” 

Nodding, you smile at the tall man as he glances down at his sign and back up at you, tilting his head like a puppy. “Then I found him. Talk to you soon, Minghao.” You hear Minghao try to speak, but you are quicker to end the call. Getting close enough to read your name in the chicken scratch on the piece of paper in the man’s hands. You laugh softly and look up at him with a sigh. “You must be, Mingyu.” 

Fuck. Fuck! That’s the only word that is repeating in Mingyu’s mind as he looks at you. He had to be decent. He has to respect you, but fuck! You are so beautiful. Swallowing hard, Mingyu nods before lowering the paper in his hand and nodding. “Miss Wen… I’ll get your bag. Jun told me to take care of you and get you to your family’s penthouse.” 

You watch as Mingyu turns his head away from you, quickly making your lips pull up in a curious smile. Following him towards the luggage carousel, you can’t help the way your eyes move along his body and land on his biceps as he pulls your suitcase from the track before turning back towards you and reaching out for your carry-on. 

“So... you are a driver for my brother?” 

Your words cause Mingyu’s brows to furrow, his breath getting caught in his throat as he walks with you towards the parking garage, being careful of traffic. Glancing towards you, he offers you a smile before tilting his head as if trying to think of the right thing to say before letting out a breath and finally speaking. “Uh, sometimes. I do a lot of things for your brother.” 

Reaching the G Wagon with him, you purse your lips, surprised not to see something different even as Mingyu loads your luggage into the back and moves around to open his passenger's side door for you. Seeing the look on your face, he lifts his brows slightly and presses his lips together, glancing at his car and back at you. 

“Is... is this not okay? Do you want to sit in the back? Do you not like my car?” Scratching the back of his head, Mingyu watches your lips pull up into a smile as he rambles. “Jun just told me to pick you up, so honestly, I don’t know much about what you do and don’t like... Miss Wen.” 

Finally laughing, you slide past Mingyu and climb into the car, glancing up at him as he rests his hand on the door, giving you a curious look. Letting out a breath, you lean your head back into the leather headrest and reach for the seatbelt as Mingyu keeps his eyes on you, even as they move along your face and down your body before he quickly moves them back up, realizing what he is doing when you finally speak to him. “I don’t like being called Miss Wen. Just call me Y/N, please.”

Swallowing hard, Mingyu then rubs his lips together out of nerves before lowering his head with a laugh. He just didn’t want to piss Jun off and while trying not to do that, he was being weird around you. Patting the top of the door frame, Mingyu nods before taking a step back to close your door. “You got it, Y/N.” 

Glancing around the large living room, Mingyu glances towards you as you drop your bag onto the couch before moving towards the floor to ceiling windows. He knew he really didn’t have to do much more for you. Yes, Jun had told him to keep you entertained, but he had done the first part. He had gotten you from the airport to the penthouse. The bar was going to open soon. 

Biting at his lip, Mingyu takes his phone from his jacket pocket and checks his messages when you glance back to look at him in the hallway, your luggage on either side of him. You could see his brows furrowed even from across the room. He had seemed so tense the entire drive from the airport and you could barely get him to open up to you. He was like a puzzle that you were dying to solve. 

“Talking to your girlfriend?” 

Your words pull Mingyu out of his haze as he reads Minghao’s text and back into the present with you. Lifting his brow, Mingyu scoffs but quickly clears his throat before shaking his head and sending a quick text back to Minghao. "No, I don’t have one. I was just letting Minghao know I had you here. Seeing if he wanted me at the loun—at work.” 

You watch as Mingyu quickly changes his wording and clears his throat once again. Stepping closer to the middle of the room, you can see the way he swallows hard and you know it’s because he’s trying to hide something from you. Smirking, you nod and gesture towards your bags before pointing towards another hallway. Mingyu’s eyes follow your hand before finding your eyes once again when you speak, some teasing in your voice. "Well, before you leave me for my brother’s shady bar, can you put my stuff in my room?” 

Mingyu feels his stomach in his throat as you mention the bar and start to walk towards the bedrooms. Groaning, he closes his eyes, feeling his phone go off in his hand, finding himself unwilling to look at it right away as he listens to your high heels click against the floor. 

So you knew about the lounge. Jun had told him you were a respectable woman. Mingyu had done his own research. Respectable was putting it simply. You were a doctor and where Jun might have lined his family’s pockets in his own way, you were like a beacon of joy for them, with your face in scientific journals and standing in front of hospitals with sick children. The lounge was so far away from who you were. 

Looking around the master bedroom, you nod before glancing back towards the door when Mingyu moves into the doorframe, only to stop and clear his throat as if asking for permission. He was not only breathtakingly handsome, but one of the most adorable men you had ever seen. You knew he worked for your brother in some capacity and in his less than desirable business adventure, but you couldn’t imagine it right now. Mingyu did not seem like the type of man to work for your brother. Then again, at one point in your life, you said the same about Minghao. 

“You can come into the room, Mingyu. What did my brother say to you to make you so afraid of me?” You smile, a small laugh in your words, as you take a step backwards to sit on the end of the bed as Mingyu puffs up his cheeks. 

Pushing your suitcases into the room, Mingyu looks down at you on the bed and he feels the image being burned into his brain as he tries not to imagine you lying back on it as he—sighing—shakes his head and lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair. “He told me to take care of you. Entertain you while he was gone, but he also told me to behave... in not so many words.” 

Biting at your lip, you laugh once again, lifting your leg to cross it over the other, feeling Mingyu’s eyes drop to your legs before he has to force himself to look away, pulling out his phone once again to check his messages. “Behave, huh? And what does that mean? Are you bad, usually?” 

Feeling heat rising in his neck, Mingyu swallows hard, not only at the text messages from Minghao but also at your words. What were you trying to do? You were obviously testing him. You were teasing him. He should run for the hills and a cold shower. 

Laughing, Mingyu focuses on his phone, sending one last text to Minghao, pressing send harder than necessary as you watch him closely. “Who are you texting, Mingyu? Still talking to Minghao? I might start to get jealous. I thought you were supposed to entertain me.” 

Glancing at you over his phone, Mingyu sees the smirk on your lips. You were causing some intense feelings for him. He was afraid of you for so many reasons already. You were bad for his job and his friendships. You were a brat and he could tell you were having fun, seeming to know that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Minghao: Don’t need you tonight. Jun wants you to get some shit and guard Y/N 

Mingyu: You gotta be kidding me.

Minghao: I don’t need to remind you, but I will, because she’s like my sister too 

Minghao: Keep your dick in your pants 

Mingyu: I’m not an animal

Minghao: Yes, you are. Don’t let anything happen to her 

Minghao: Understand me? 

Mingyu: I understand! 

Giving you a strained smile as he shoves his phone into his pocket, Mingyu takes a step back from you and lifts his shoulders with a deep breath. “Which room is mine?” 

You had already known that Mingyu was going to be assigned to be security for you until your brother got back, even if you had told Jun and Minghao that you didn’t need a babysitter. At the time when you said it, you hadn’t known who Mingyu was or how much fun it might be. Now you are happy to have company. 

Smiling, you slide off the bed and up to your feet, glancing around your room with a teasing smile as Mingyu lets out a breath, afraid of what you are implying. Stepping past him, you glance up at him, letting your fingers trail over his hand before moving to the door. “Follow me.” 

Mingyu’s skin felt like it was on fire where your fingers had brushed over his. He was being stupid with just a small touch, but god, you were driving him crazy. You knew exactly what you were doing; it was going to take everything in him to keep some professionalism about him during this. He was already counting down the days, hours, and minutes until Jun would be back and this job would be over. 

Following behind you, Mingyu lets his eyes move down your back and over your ass before he glances off to the side when you make a quick right turn into the room right beside yours and nod. Glancing over your shoulder at Mingyu, you lift your hands to do a quick eye to hand measurement of his height before doing the same for the bed and making an unsure sound. “You might fit, big boy.” 

Unable to stop the scoff before it starts to leave his mouth, Mingyu walks past you into the room and looks at the bed. It wasn’t a small bed, and he wasn’t that big. Meeting your eyes, Mingyu watches you smirk at him before you glance around the rest of the room and pout your lips at him. “You didn’t bring anything with you? Maybe I could take a ride with you and stretch my legs while you pack a bag.” 

You knew he didn’t have anything else with him. Clearly, he hadn’t been planning on staying, but you seemed to have known he was going to be sticking around before he did. Sighing, Mingyu scratches at his eyebrow before gesturing towards the door and giving you a strained smile. You could tell you were wearing him down. You wanted to crack him. Get to the real Kim Mingyu, not this professional mask he was wearing for the sake of your brother. 

Mingyu hadn’t expected you to follow him up into his apartment, so when you did, he could feel the heat rising in his neck and face. His apartment was nothing compared to the penthouse you were staying in or the penthouse that Jun owned. All Mingyu had was a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment in a decent part of town and he kept it pretty clean. Thank god. 

“Uh, I’ll be quick. Just—” You watch as Mingyu hurries past you into his living room to swipe a gun from his coffee table, a few bullets hitting the floor as he curses under his breath, leaning down to pick them up. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” Glancing over his shoulder at you, Mingyu pushes the bullets into the magazine in his hand before pushing the magazine into the pistol and hearing it click. 

Your brows were raised and you were watching him curiously. He hadn’t planned for you to be in his space. He had been cleaning one of his guns the night before, well before the bottle of jack, but normally people weren’t inside his apartment. Especially people who looked like you and were decent, normal people. 

Following Mingyu with your eyes, you watch as he leaves the door crack, probably to listen to in the other room as he grabs a bag and starts to fill it with various things. You weren’t surprised that he had a gun and it didn’t bother you; in fact, it made him even sexier somehow. You felt a bit safer around him knowing that he was armed, especially if he was supposed to be taking care of you. 

Looking over the books on his shelves, you tilt your head and smile at the titles. They weren’t what you would expect someone like Kim Mingyu to have. As that thought crosses your mind, you think to yourself that it isn’t fair of you to think that. You didn’t know him well enough to judge his reading habits or intelligence. You just hadn’t expected to see The Count of Monte Cristo sitting on his shelf with the binding broken as if it had been read several times. 

Pulling the book out, you hold it delicately in your hands as you flip through, reading over the words—some you remember, others that you hadn’t forgotten, having not read it in so long. What makes you smile are the notes in the margins in the same chicken scratch that you had seen your name written in at the airport. 

Grabbing a few things from his bathroom, Mingyu zips up his bag and checks his pistol before sliding it into the holster under his jacket. You were quiet in the other room and that was making him nervous. He had tried to be quick while packing, but he had no idea what to bring, so he went simple and only took what he needed. 

Turning the corner into his living room, Mingyu stops in his tracks, seeing you standing in front of his bookshelf with one of his books in your hands. You were gorgeous in the evening light pouring in from the decently large windows he had been blessed with, and you had the prettiest smile on your lips as you ran your fingers over the margins of the book. He could already tell what book you were looking at before even getting closer. It was his favorite, but that was probably easy to see, which is probably why you picked it up. It was obviously the most well loved book on the entire shelf. 

“All human wisdom is contained in these two words–Wait and hope.” You read the quote from the book that Mingyu had re-written at the top of the page before glancing up at him as he watches you carefully. Closing the book, you slide it back into his place and take a breath before offering him a smile. “Are you a tortured soul, Kim Mingyu?” 

Laughing into a scoff, Mingyu adjusts his bag on his shoulder and shakes his head. “I just enjoy the idea of revenge being fulfilled, I think.” Mingyu watches you nod and take a few steps closer to him, the air feeling thicker as he tries to take a breath only to get a deep breath of your perfume. 

“And it has nothing to do with the love story attached to it? That isn’t why you’ve read that book so many times that the pages are falling out.” Mingyu’s eyes fall to your lips as you speak and he has to force himself to look back up to your eyes before pulling his gaze away from you and towards the window with the golden light. 

“It’s just a story.” You think to yourself as you hear the words come out of Mingyu’s mouth—what a beautiful liar he is.

Leaning back in the chair, Mingyu glances around the penthouse as you open the fridge and sigh. He wasn’t sure what you had expected to be in there. From what he understood, you hadn’t given Jun much of a heads up about this visit so it wasn’t like he could have things stocked and ready to go for you. Obviously, there wasn’t going to be a fridge full of food just waiting for you to use. 

“What is your favorite food, Mingyu?” Closing the fridge, you turn back towards the living room to lean against the kitchen island to face Mingyu. He looked surprised by the question, but you already had your phone out and were ordering groceries while waiting for him to answer you. 

“Whatever you like.” 

Smirking at his answer, you glance up from your phone and tilt your head before stepping around the island and into the living room to sit on the couch closest to the chair that Mingyu had chosen. The moment you had gotten back to the penthouse, you had opted to change. Your flight had been long; you were ready to get out of your clothes and into something more comfortable, so now you were in leggings and a tight tank top that Mingyu was having a hard time not staring at. 

“Oh? You like all the foods I like now? Have we reached that point in our relationship, darling?” Teasing him, you smile when Mingyu rolls his eyes and runs his hand over his mouth, opting to lean forward and look down at his knees to keep himself in check. You could almost see the stress rolling off of him; he needed a massage, maybe a vacation, but he for sure needed a good fuck before he suffered a heart attack. “I’m just picking on you, Mingyu.” 

He knew what you were doing and he wasn’t an idiot. You weren’t some angel like your brother and Minghao thought you were. Shaking his head, Mingyu glances up to meet your eyes before leaning back in the chair and laying his head back against the back of it. “Anything with meat. I’m not a fucking rabbit. If you need me to go get food, I can. Just give me a list.” 

Lifting your phone, you show him the groceries you had ordered and then swipe over to the delivery app to show him where you had chosen to get dinner from. “Work for you? We’ve already been out enough today. I’d rather we both stay in for the rest of the evening.” 

Mingyu couldn’t argue with you on that. Nodding to the choices, he stands to take off his jacket, drawing your attention to not only his arms under his t-shirt but also the gun holster on his side. Feeling your eyes on him, Mingyu takes a breath and shakes his head as he takes the pistol from the holster and turns it to the side to show you his thumb resting against the safety. “It’s on. I know how to use it, or else your brother wouldn’t have asked me to be here.” 

While you were curious about how and why Mingyu was so comfortable with the gun, you just nodded and leaned back on the couch, crossing your legs as he moved to put his gun down on the dining room table so he could unhook his holster and take it off. 

“I wasn’t going to ask if you knew how to use it, Mingyu. I mean, clearly, you do. Dressed like that.” Meeting your eyes briefly, Mingyu smirks as you glance away quickly and back to your phone as he lays the leather holster down on the table next to his pistol. Maybe it was that he had been with you for so many hours and that he was still feeling hungover, but what could it actually hurt to give you a taste of your own medicine. “Yeah, dressed like what, sweetheart?” 

You close your eyes, feeling yourself clench the moment Mingyu calls you sweetheart and his voice drops an octave. He was fighting dirty now and your body was a traitor. Shifting your legs, you tighten your thighs and clear your throat as you tilt your head, letting out a scoff. If he wanted to play, you could play. 

“Like that, you know, like a bad boy.” Giving Mingyu a once over, nice and slow, you finally meet his eyes and find that was a mistake as he lifts a brow and grins at you. Taking a deep breath, you think you turn your head away slowly, coolly, calmly, and collected—but Mingyu sees you panic and look away, making his ego grow. 

“What if I am a bad boy? Is that what you asked me before? If I was bad? If I misbehaved?” 

When had his voice gotten so low and sexy? When did Mingyu get so close? You could feel his hands on either side of you on the back of the couch as he leaned over you, standing behind the couch, but you didn’t dare look up. Instead, you focus on your phone even as you tap your foot against the floor, trying to hide how you are pushing your thighs together. Shrugging, you sigh, but it comes out shakier than intended, especially when you speak up. “I—well, I did ask that, but I was teasing you.” 

Grinning, Mingyu leans down to speak next to your ear, his eyes on your lap as he does. “And I’m teasing back. Can’t handle the heat? Stay out of the kitchen, baby.” Blowing a kiss next to your cheek, he laughs before standing back at his full height and stretching, pulling his arms behind him as he walks around the couch and towards the hallway. “I’m gonna take a shower; let me know when dinner is here.” 

You could feel sweat running between your breasts and your neck at how hot Mingyu had literally made you. Swallowing, you run your tongue over your lips and lean your head back against the couch, hearing the door to his bedroom shut, giving you a moment to finally catch your breath. God, you were in trouble. It had been fun at first, but now you wanted him. You wanted him badly. 

The rest of the night had gone fine. Even sleeping in a bed that wasn’t his—that was fine, but what wasn’t fine was waking up and walking into the kitchen to see you barely wearing anything. You were standing in front of the fridge, one hand on the door, the other pulling the carton of juice out, as you ran your toes along the back of your exposed calf. Mingyu couldn’t help but let his eyes run along your bare legs up to where your tiny shorts barely covered your ass. 

“I—aren’t you cold? I mean standing in front of the fridge like that.” 

Mingyu wasn’t much better than you were. He hadn’t opted to put on a shirt, so when you looked over at him, ready to give him some smart comments back, you almost lost grip of the juice in your hand. Choking on your words, you close the fridge and turn towards the kitchen island, reaching up to pull down two glasses, sneaking glances towards the man as you pour juice in both. “I—no. No… I’m not cold. It’s the summer, Mingyu. Clearly, I mean, you’re running around half naked.” 

Looking down at his torso, Mingyu shrugs, moving closer to the other side of the island, reaching out for one of the glasses of orange juice as you slide it to him. You had a point, but in his opinion, it was one thing for him to be shirtless and it was another for you to have your ass hanging out and your tits—god, your tits—just on display through that thin little tanktop. 

Swallowing his juice hard, Mingyu looks away from you, trying hard to think with his brain and not his cock, even as he feels it threatening to get hard just looking at you. Keep your dick in your pants. That’s what he had been told twice by Jun and Minghao, and yet you had been looking at him like he was a fucking three course dinner from the moment he had picked you up at the airport. How was he supposed to keep it civil with you when you were acting like you wanted to fuck him as badly as he wanted to fuck you—and he barely knew you. Did that even matter at this point? It had never mattered before with any other girl. 

You were doing your best not to ogle Mingyu, but it was easier said than done. With your glass against your lips, your eyes walked the line from his face to the top of his pajama pants, where they hung low on his lips. You could trace the line of his v-cut and you could imagine doing it with your fingers or your lips, it was only when he cleared his throat, sat his glass down and moved around the island towards you that you were startled enough to stop staring. 

“What are you doing?” Shifting out of Mingyu’s way, you watch as he opens the fridge and mutters to himself, ignoring your question as he pulls out a few things and sits them on the counter. Giving you a smile, he furrows his brows and opens a few of the lower cabinets until he finds the pots and pans he wants. “Making breakfast, sweetheart. What’s it look like? Didn’t look like you were gonna do it. I figure bigwig doctors don’t have to cook for themselves anyway.” 

Rolling your eyes, you shift slightly, letting Mingyu pull the drawer open next to you as you feel his body pressed against yours. His skin was hot to the touch, and while his words frustrated you, having him so close made you struggle not to grab him. 

Taking a spatula from the drawer, Mingyu winks at you and pushes the drawer shut, stepping back to hear you let out a slow breath. He could tell you were irritated with him. He liked it. You were a brat and he was enjoying pushing your buttons. It didn’t matter if you were this smart as fuck doctor who could probably run laps around him when it came to most things, he could still teach you a few lessons. 

“What? What’s that look for? Am I wrong? You don’t have a personal chef?” Cracking a few eggs into a bowl in front of him, Mingyu watches you cross your arms over your stomach as you scoff. You weren’t able to say anything, which told him he wasn’t that far off. “Or you do. Is that a doctor thing or a Wen thing?” 

“You are so fucking annoying... I hope you cook as well as you run your mouth.” There was some fire to your tone of voice and it was going straight to Mingyu’s cock again. Smirking to himself as he pours the eggs into the pan, he adjusts the heat and meets your eyes only for a second before taking a few slices of bacon from the package and adding them to another pan. 

“Afraid I’ll try to put something in your mouth you won’t like?” Mingyu’s words make your cheeks heat up. Scoffing, you try to think of the right thing to say, but nothing comes to mind quickly enough so he fills the empty space with his irritatingly handsome laugh. “Come on, you know that was funny. I have to tease you a little bit. You’ve been keeping me on my toes, sweetheart.” 

Pushing your tongue against your cheek, you meet Mingyu’s eyes as he puts the bacon next to the eggs and puts the pan back on the stove, only to rest his hand on the counter next to your hip. “Keep lookin’ at me like that and you’ll make me think you want me to do more than tease.” 

“Yeah? And what happened to behaving?” You smirk, looking down at Mingyu’s hand, then back up at his eyes as he takes a step closer to you. Both of you knew this was a bad idea, but as you bite at your pretty bottom lip, letting it get caught between your teeth as you smile at him, Mingyu’s resolve breaks. Stepping in front of you, he puts his other hand on the other side of you to keep you pinned to the island as you take a deep, shaky breath. “I think I’m done trying to behave. How ‘bout you, sweetheart?” 

Mingyu had put the ball in your court. He wasn’t touching you yet. If you wanted to get away from him, you could. He would listen to you if you told him to get away, but those words never left your mouth. Instead, you whine his name, reaching up to grab him by his neck and pulling him down to your lips. Mingyu groans into the kiss, feeling your nails scratch at the back of his neck and into his hairline. It had been a while since a kiss had made him feel like this. He usually avoided kissing his hookups, but occasionally they would whine about it enough that he’d give in and they were nothing like this. They were nothing like you. 

Sliding his hands from the counter to your hips, Mingyu nips at your lips as his fingers dig into your flesh through your clothes and he lifts you up and onto the counter. Stepping between your legs, he smiles against your lips before licking the seam of your lips, asking for permission until you give it to him, parting your lips. His tongue glides along yours and he groans to the taste of your mouth as his hands pull you forward and into his hips, letting you feel his cock hard between your legs. 

Furrowing your brows, you lean your head back to take a breath, hoping your mind might clear—that you might come to your senses—but Mingyu’s lips move to your jaw and then your neck. He only makes you want him more. You weren’t like this usually. No man could make you throw yourself at them, but there was something about Kim Mingyu. Maybe it was being away from home and having no one around to tell you to be perfect. You felt like you could go on desire instead of common sense. 

“Oh my god, Mingyu...” You sound so desperate that it makes Mingyu groan against your throat, his hands finding the counter under you once again. He feels his cock twitch in his pajama pants at the breathy moans leaving your mouth and every single lie that he will have to tell Jun and Minghao feels worth it. 

“Fuck, you sound so pretty. Just like an angel.” Taking a step back, Mingyu runs his fingers along the sides of your legs, feeling chill bumps spread along your skin until he meets your shorts. Tilting his head, he licks his lips and meets your eyes, looking for you to give him permission as he pushes his fingers into the top of your shorts. Nodding, you lift your hips and press your lips together when Mingyu tugs your shorts down to your thighs with a groan. “Baby, you’re trying to kill me. You knew what you were wearing when you came into this kitchen. You were asking for me to fuck you, huh?” 

Shaking your head, you still smile as Mingyu lifts your legs and drops your shorts onto the kitchen floor at his feet. You shiver at the feeling of his nails lightly scratching along the slides of your legs as he steps back between your legs, his eyes falling to his prize. “‘Course you were. It’s okay; you can tell me, angel. Have you been this wet the entire time?” 

Lifting his hand to his lips, Mingyu runs his tongue along the pad of his thumb as you watch. Keeping his eyes on you, he uses his thumb to spread your wet folds, searching for your clit. When you arch your back, pushing your hips toward his hand, Mingyu smirks and draws a circle around the small bundle of nerves. 

“Please, please, oh my god.” Your voice goes straight to Mingyu’s cock. He feels himself start to leak against his pants as he turns his hand, brushing his knuckles against your folds when you lift your hips, trying to get more from him. 

“Please what? You know... you haven’t been very nice to me, Y/N.” Mingyu meets your eyes, and as he pouts his lips, his words almost sound sad. Scoffing, you glance down at his hand only to have his free hand grab your chin, bringing your eyes back to his face. “Eyes on me. You have teased me since you got here. You might be pretty as an angel, but you are a brat. I need to teach you a lesson, baby.” 

Whining, you lean your head back, a pout on your lips this time as Mingyu’s fingers move from your pussy to your leg. “No, no… I’m sorry. Touch me. I can be good.” Mingyu’s lips pull up in a smirk as he tilts his head, listening to your begging. He could get used to the sound of that, but it wasn’t good enough. All he had done was threaten, and he had to follow through. 

“Are you scared?” Strong hands grip your hips as Mingyu slides you to the end of the counter. You meet his eyes and try to think about how to answer him. Swallowing hard, you nod, and Mingyu nods, lifting one hand up to cup your cheek. Taking a step back, he leans in and kisses you so sweetly that your head spins, only for you to gasp into a surprised moan when his other hand comes down in a sharp slap over your wet folds. “Want me to stop?” 

Breathing hard against his lips, you close your eyes tightly to the strange feeling of pain and pleasure as Mingyu’s fingers run through your folds once again. Pushing his index finger into your tight hole, he keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer, but you only shake your head. “Words, angel, or I will stop.” 

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you push Mingyu’s finger into you further and he groans on your lips, meeting your eyes. Leaning in a few inches to press your lips to his, you speak between kisses, keeping your eyes on his. “Don’t stop. Teach me a lesson, Mingyu.”

A deep groan comes from Mingyu’s throat, almost a growl as he leans his forehead against yours, hearing those words come out of your mouth. You were where this untarnished, this perfect white rose… and he was going to ruin you. 

“Oh, I’ll teach you something you’ll never forget, baby. You're dripping down my finger, just like a little whore.” Gasping not only at Mingyu’s words but also at the feeling of a second finger pushing into you beside the first, you grab at his wrist again. Mingyu grins, an almost cruel laugh on his lips, as he rubs his fingers back slowly towards his palm, feeling your soft walls on his fingertips. “I thought you were supposed to be respectable. That’s what your brother told me.” 

Trying to lift your lips, you whine Mingyu’s name when his free hand pushes your hips back down on the kitchen counter. Tsking at your behavior, he leans his head back and meets your eyes as he lifts his brows and slides his fingers out almost all the way. “I’m talking, angel. Stop being so fucking impatient. You told me to teach you a lesson, so listen to me.” 

Fingers plunge back into you, causing you to choke on a moan. Mingyu relishes the sounds coming from your mouth as much as he enjoys the feeling of your pussy sucking his fingers back in with every thrust. 

“Please… please. I’m good. I’m listening.” Your words are almost incoherent babbling and Mingyu can’t help but smirk. Were you that drunk off of him already? He had barely started. All you had gotten from him was a kiss and his fingers fucking you, and you were struggling to remember how to speak. 

“So fucking pretty and making such a mess.” Your cheeks burn in embarrassment because you know that Mingyu isn’t lying. You can hear how wet you are as his fingers fuck into you at such a brutal pace that you are seeing stars. 

Unable to keep yourself up anymore, you slide your hands back, only to gasp in surprise when  you hear the sound of glass hitting the floor and shattering. Mingyu laughs, his eyes on you, as you try to look for what fell. “Who the fuck cares? I don’t even want breakfast anymore. I got mine right here.” 

Running your hand over your face, you struggle to catch your breath as you lay back on the counter, feeling Mingyu’s fingers slide from you, leaving you right on the edge of your orgasm. If you were any more coherent, you would have yelled at him for not finishing, but you didn’t have time to come to your senses or to be angry. The feeling of Mingyu’s tongue taking the place of his fingers has your stomach in knots. Trying to push your thighs together, you find it impossible as a strong hand holds one leg up, and Mingyu’s face grinds into your pussy. 

There were few things that Mingyu loved more than getting his dick wet, but eating pussy was one of them. The feeling of a woman’s thighs around his head, having to take deep breaths between groaning against her soft plush folds—that was better. Mingyu could feel himself getting close to his own climax. He knew he could ask you to let him fuck you, that you’d probably agree, but this was it. This was what he had wanted the moment he walked into the kitchen and saw your ass peeking from under those little shorts. 

Digging his nails into your skin, Mingyu nudges his nose against your clit as he sucks at your pussy, enjoying not only your taste but the smell and feeling of you against his mouth and skin. Yes, this was one of his favorite things to do, but with you? This was fucking heaven. You were heaven. He had been calling you an angel because of how you were moaning his name, but tasting your cum on his tongue and feeling you grind against his face? You had to be his one gift from God. 

You weren’t sure how many times Mingyu had made you cum on his tongue. You had never felt anyone use their mouth like him and by the time that you had your fingers in his hair pulling him from your thighs, you were sobbing and your legs were shaking. Meeting your eyes, Mingyu licks his lips before glancing back down at his prize with a groan. You were beautiful. From the top of your head to your toes, your pussy—wet and swollen from his mouth was to die for. 

“I need—I wanna help you. God, you are trying to kill me.” You watch Mingyu run his fingers through his hair, a sheepish grin on his face as he stands up between your legs. You were out of breath, you looked exhausted and pliant. Mingyu shakes his head as he wipes his mouth, feeling your fingers tugging at his hand, only for him to wrap his fingers around your wrist and keep your hand still. 

“I’m good. You did help me.” Shaking your head, you move to your elbows and whine, reaching for Mingyu’s pajama pants, when you realize he’s not hard anymore. Furrowing your brows, you meet his eyes once again to see his brows lift as he licks his lips. “I came, baby. ‘Sides... told you I had to teach you a lesson. It was a lesson in what happens when you tease me.” 

Mingyu watches a pout form on your lips. You were devestantly cute and it was bad for not only his job but his health. Jun and Minghao were going to kick his ass or they might just kill him. Shaking his head, Mingyu leans down to press his lips to yours as you whine his name and slide your fingers along his sides, feeling a thin layer of sweat under your hands. 

“I know I need a fuckin’ shower now... and you need to eat. I’ll clean up the glass. Don’t step on the other side.” 

He was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Watching Mingyu move away from you, you furrow your brows as he picks up a dish towel and leans down to clean up orange juice and broken glass. Just moments ago, he was calling you a little whore, and now he was worried about you getting hurt and needing to eat. Biting at your lip, you swallow hard and slide off the counter to pick up your shorts and put them back on as you listen to Mingyu pick up the pieces of your cup. 

“Should we—I don’t know, should we talk about what just happened?” Your voice makes Mingyu want to laugh as he puts pieces of glass into the dish towel and tries to avoid cutting his fingers. You seemed confused or maybe even like you regretted it. Shaking his head, Mingyu lets out a breath and moves to the trash with his towel, dropping it all in before meeting your eyes. “Do you wanna pretend it didn’t—” 

“Oh my god! No… I liked it. I just—Jun and Hao. Should we talk about—” Lifting his hands, Mingyu laughs, making you stop before you spiral. Moving back around the counter, you watch him take in a deep breath and it draws your eyes to his chest once again. God, he really was the most beautiful man you had ever seen and you had just had his face between your legs. Your mind was spinning. 

“It’s between us. I won’t tell them if you don’t. I’d actually prefer to keep my cock attached to my body.” Smirking, Mingyu tilts his head, reaching up to grab your chin, making you meet his eyes instead of looking at his chest. “You seem to be interested in it too, so... deal?” 

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He was so lewd. He went from being almost sweet to making you feel like you were dirty. Nodding, you feel Mingyu’s thumb run over your bottom lip as he hums happily. “That’s a good girl. I’m gonna shower, eat what I made, even if it’s cold.” 

Dropping his hand, Mingyu lets his fingers trail over your hip as he walks towards the hall, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your head spinning and your thighs aching. 

You had hoped that Mingyu would act differently after the morning’s extracurricular activities, but as soon as he got out of the shower and you were back in the living room with him, you found him with his phone in his hand. You were starting to hate his phone. He sat with you on the couch and didn’t care when you tried to lean in close to him, but he didn’t attempt to make any more moves on you. 

It was like night and day. 

Sighing at his phone, Mingyu shifts against you as you watch tv. Glancing at his wrist, he rolls his eyes and slides letting you unceremoniously fall against the cushions. Pushing yourself back up, your eyes follow him as he moves to pick up his leather jacket and pulls it on before glancing at you with an unsure look in his eyes. Words on the tip of his tongue before he finally bites the bullet, “I have to go into work. It’s gonna be busy, I can’t let Minghao cover that shit alone.” 

Sitting up, you glance around the room before meeting his eyes once more as he waits for you to give him permission, though he knows he doesn’t need it. Yes, he was supposed to keep you safe and “entertained”, but what all could happen to you in a cushy penthouse. “So… be a good girl, and I’ll be back in the morning.” 

Your mouth falls open and you are on your feet before Mingyu takes the first step. You weren’t going to be a good girl, it seemed. Sighing, Mingyu runs his fingers through his hair. He had a good idea what you were about to ask, but hearing the words come out of your mouth didn’t make them easier to hear or to decline. “Can I come?” 

Shaking his head no, he moves past you, feeling your hand grab his wrist as you stomp your feet and whine his name. He had been told explicitly not to bring you to the lounge. Of course, he had already broken some rules with you, which made it harder to look you in the eye. 

“Your brother told me to absolutely not bring you to the lounge. Y/N, baby, please. Just stay here and be good. Place isn’t for women like you anyway.” Mingyu’s words make you scoff. Women like you. What did he think you were? Some saint? Trying to jerk Mingyu’s arm back towards you, you aren’t surprised when he is able to pull free with little effort. 

Mingyu hated saying no to you, especially with how you were looking at him. He could tell you were upset with him, but he’d rather you be a little irritated than have you being felt up by some low life at the bar. Reaching up to grab your chin between his fingers, Mingyu presses his lips to yours, feeling you pout into the kiss for just a moment until you relax. You couldn’t stay mad at him. It wasn’t like he could just put his life on hold for you, though you desperately wanted him to. 

“Mm, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. We’re closed… I’ll treat you so good.” You could feel your knees go weak at the smooth tone of Mingyu’s voice as his fingers traced your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle and you just nodded like the pathetic girl you are before kissing him once more at the door. 

Watching the door shut, you whine and throw your head back dramatically before picking up your phone and laying on the couch. You knew Mingyu was probably right, but that didn’t make it any easier to feel like Rapunzel stuck in a glass tower. 

Y/N: [picture attached]

Mingyu sighs out a breath of smoke as he uses the palm of his hand to pull his G-Wagon into his usual parking spot. It was already getting late in the afternoon so getting to the lounge this late was like getting to class after the bell. 

Taking one last pull from his cigarette, Mingyu tosses it to the pavement before pushing it into the concrete with his boot as he takes his cell phone from his pocket to check his messages from you. He knew he had a few. You were tempting him to come back to the penthouse and as much as he wanted to bring you along, or get back and throw you on a bed, he had a job to do. 

Mingyu: That doesn’t look like a good girl. Just a pretty slut with great tits. 

Mingyu smirks to himself as you send a string of dramatic responses before he slides his phone back into his jacket and makes his way towards the building. You’d be fine. You were safe and away from the shit that your brother had hoped to keep secret from you. It wasn’t Mingyu’s fault you knew about it, but he could at least do what he was told and not bring you in right under Minghao’s nose. 

“Hey man, I thought I was gonna have to do this shit by myself again.” Taking a deep breath, Mingyu shakes his head at Soonyoung’s words as he slips by the smaller man at the door. There were already a few people lined up waiting to get in. He had been in Soonyoung’s place before, and while he could handle it by himself now, he remembered the stress of being newer and being left to the dogs. 

“Nah… I’m here. Sorry about last night. Had something else the boss wanted me to do.” Mingyu grabs one of the glasses from the bar and pours himself a shot of whiskey as Soonyoung nods along with his words before droning on about the night before. He liked Soonyoung, but he could already feel a headache behind his eyes as Chan turned up the volume at his booth, the bass causing his ears to ring. 

“So, I’m just sayin’... there are some real pricks comin’ every single fuckin’ night.” Leaning his head back, Mingyu winces at the burn of the alcohol before nodding, not even meeting Soonyoung’s eyes. “I get it. Don’t fucking worry about it. If they show up, I’ll take care of ‘em.” 

Soonyoung’s shoulders relax at Mingyu’s words. He was happy to have him back. He could do his job and Vernon was decent help, but there wasn’t anyone like Mingyu. It was different when you had a 6’2” wall next to you who wasn’t afraid to put someone in their place. “Cool, cool, alright, man. Thanks.” 

For the first couple of hours, Mingyu felt like he could fall asleep at the door. It was mundane and he was beginning to wonder if this was actually a Saturday night or not, but by hour three, he was eating his words. After four bar fights and a debate on whether one man needed an ambulance or not later, Mingyu was taking a much needed smoke break. 

Scrolling through texts from you, he found himself smirking at how needy you were being. It wasn’t just that you wanted him to come home and fuck you—it was that you were bored and spoiled. All he had done was play around with you a bit, fuck you on his tongue and fingers and you were already a spoiled little princess. 

Mingyu: Baby… I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t you remember what I said? Trying to make me regret it? 

Mingyu: Want me to take it back?

Pouting at your phone, you push your head back into your pillows as you kick your legs from under your blankets. You couldn’t believe he was actually going to stay out all night. You couldn’t believe that Minghao would keep him out that late, knowing that you were here, but you also knew you were being unreasonable. You knew that Mingyu had a life before you got here, and he’d have one once you flew back home. 

Y/N: No… Just miss you. It’s lonely in this big, ‘ol apartment. How’s work?

With his cigarette between his lips, Mingyu scoffs softly, almost feeling a bit soft at your response. You were so sweet, it was frustrating. You made him feel a bit crazy. Mingyu knew you weren’t his for long. You shouldn’t be his at all… he had made promises, but you had landed in his lap and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. 

Mingyu furrows his brows at the sounds of footsteps behind him as he looks down at his half written response to you on his phone. It could be anyone; he was behind the building, but not many people came out unless they were doing exactly what he was doing or they were looking for someone. Someone looking for him? Soonyoung? Minghao? 

Turning his head and starting to speak, Mingyu feels the breath get knocked from his lungs as the cigarette falls from his lips to the ground along with his phone. Concrete bites at the heels of his hands as Mingyu hits the ground, the sharp feeling of a boot hitting his side knocking any chance of a full breath from his lungs. 

“Get up, motherfucker.” 

Mingyu groans, tasting copper in his mouth, his head lifting just in time for him to react and use the strength he has to catch the foot aimed at his head. Twisting hard, Mingyu rolls his body over, pulling the man down until he is under him, bringing his elbow down across the man’s cheek with a loud crack. 

Neither notices the doors to the building opening until the light spreads over the ground, letting Mingyu see who had attacked him. Lee Eunseok, one of the men he had thrown out earlier in the night for starting a fight, and more importantly, one of Park Bonhwa’s faithful followers. 

“Gyu! He’s down, it’s done!” 

Minghao’s voice rings in Mingyu’s ears as he lands another punch to the side of Eunseok’s face, feeling muscle and bone give under his knuckles. He only stops when Soonyoung, Minghao, and Vernon pull him off, leaving the other man to catch his breath and bleed on the ground. 

Tugging his arms away from his friends, Mingyu’s voice comes out as more of a growl as he feels his lungs and stomach twist in pain. “Get the fuck off me!” Hands move from him, but they stay close, keeping him from going back to Eunseok as he rolls on to his side, laughter escaping his cracked, bleeding lips between words. “Such a little bitch, Kim.” Sliding his hand towards Mingyu’s phone, he looks at the screen at your name before holding it up to show it to Mingyu and the others with a look on his face that makes Mingyu feel sick to his stomach. “Your girlfriend? Should I call her and say hi?” 

Minghao moves forward before Mingyu can, grabbing the phone from Eunseok reading your name and turning off the screen. His eyes meet Mingyu’s and it tells him everything he needs to know. Not only had Eunseok struck a nerve, but there was plenty to talk about later. 

“Get this son of a bitch off the property.” Mingyu’s eyes never leave Minghao's, even as Soonyoung and Vernon move to lift Eunseok from the ground and drag him towards the parking lot. Offering him his phone, Minghao gives Mingyu a once over shaking his head as the larger man takes it and spits blood onto the ground to clear it from his mouth. 

“I don’t wanna talk about—” 

“I don’t give a fuck what you want to talk about. What did I tell you?” Sucking in a breath as he lifts his hand, running it through his hair, Minghao curses under his breath, pointing towards the doors for Mingyu to move. In theory, Mingyu knew he could tell him to shove it up his ass. He could walk away, but he also knew that would be the end of his life. Jun wouldn’t let him just walk away. So Mingyu put his head down like a child in trouble and walked towards the building as Minghao followed in tow. 

The sound of the office door closing only makes Mingyu’s head throb more. He felt like he could finally catch his breath, though he knew he had bruised ribs. He could still taste the blood in his mouth and all he wanted to do was go after Eunseok and finish what the man had started. It wasn’t in Mingyu’s nature—at least as of late—to just “let it go”. 

Sitting down against the desk, Minghao runs his fingers through his hair, giving Mingyu a good once over. He had seen him be careless the last few weeks, but directly going against orders—even that was bold for him. He knew that you were attractive and could be a tease, that didn’t excuse Mingyu from thinking with his dick instead of his head. 

“If Jun finds out—”

“Why does he have to?” Rolling his neck from side to side, Mingyu lets out breath before lowering himself into a chair in front of Minghao. To him, this was simple. He knew that Minghao was Jun’s best friend, but he was also supposed to be his best friend. Where was his protection? Where was his bit of grace when he fucked up? He never got that. He just got sent to a corner or told to clean up someone's shit. 

Scoffing, Minghao rests his hands on the desk under him, studying Mingyu. “You think it’s just that easy? That I can lie to Jun about something to do with his sister?” Minghao shakes his head and looks towards a painting on the wall as Mingyu shifts in the seat, feeling anxious, ready to get up and leave. 

“Not like I’m knockin—” Before the rest of the words are out of his mouth, Minghao’s eyes are back on Mingyu and his mouth shuts as he rethinks his words again. “It’s just fun. It’s fun for her. I wouldn’t do anything to fuck it up. I’m not stupid.” 

That was up for debate as far as Minghao was concerned, especially with what had almost come out of Mingyu’s mouth. Just the idea of him getting you pregnant was enough to give Minghao a migraine and for him to watch Mingyu out of his sight. Lifting his hand, Minghao rubs at his eyes with a groan of annoyance as he shakes his head. His words are strained, and he regrets them as soon as they are spoken. “Just keep it to yourselves. I don’t want to see it and I don’t want to know about it. Jun will break your fuckin’ neck, Gyu.” 

Lifting two fingers to his forehead, Mingyu gives Minghao a sarcastic salute as he sighs and pushes out of the chair. “Got it, boss. I’m cuttin’ outta here early. I think getting the shit kicked out of me gives me a pass, don’t you?” 

There was something eating at Minghao about how Mingyu was acting, but he couldn’t blame him for wanting to leave a couple of hours early to get some rest after what had happened. Taking a deep breath, he nods before saying Mingyu’s name, watching the large man turn back towards him with a clenched jaw. “Text me when you get home. Just wanna make sure you're feelin’ okay. You were spittin’ up a lotta blood before.” 

Waving Minghao off, Mingyu mutters under his breath as he pushes the door open and his eyes move right for the exit. Minghao would be waiting a bit for that text. 

Mingyu wasn’t thinking clearly; he was just seeing red as he drove towards where he suspected Eunseok to be. Throwing his car into park, Mingyu winces as he looks at the back of the blacked out Cadillac. He knew he was in the way as Eunseok put the Cadillac in reverse and cursed under his breath while watching Mingyu get out of his vehicle and walk towards his door. 

“Get the fuck out.” Point his finger towards the window; Mingyu doesn’t need to see Eunseok’s face to know he can hear him. When he doesn’t open the door immediately, the red Mingyu had been seeing goes to black as he jerks the door open and reaches for the man. He grabs  Eunseok’s shirt under his hands and Mingyu grits his teeth, seething as he tries to pull him from the car. Falling back, he feels searing pain in his right arm. 

The sound of the gunshot doesn’t even register as much as Eunseok’s panicked breath and the way he fumbles the gun. Taking a step back, Mingyu looks down at his arm, the blood running along the brown leather and he acts before he thinks. His fingers wrap around the grip of his gun and before Eunseok can get off a second shot, Mingyu pulls the trigger, watching the man fall back across the center console. 

The ringing in Mingyu’s ears dulls to a low hum as the world seems to slow down. Calming down, his breath slowing, the pain in his arm becomes all the more apparent. Hissing under his breath, Mingyu rolls his shoulder before looking back into the Cadillac at Eunseok’s limp body. He was half expecting the man to move and to groan in pain, but nothing happened. 

Taking a step forward, Mingyu furrows his brows as he looks at the blood splattered across the dashboard. His eyes fall to Eunseok and the blood seeps from the wound on his chest. Wiping his hand across his lips, Mingyu groans, stopping himself from reaching for the door to steady himself. He hadn’t meant to kill him. It was self defense—instinct, but that didn’t stop the bile in his stomach from churning. 

“Fuck…” Glancing around the parking lot, Mingyu rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to keep himself calm, though his heart was beating hard, causing blood to seep even quicker from the gunshot in his bicep. There wasn’t a lot of time to stand and ponder, so acting on instinct once again, Mingyu reached for Eunseok’s jacket and took out his wallet. Pulling the cash from it, he pockets it and uses his shirt to wipe his prints from the leather before laying it on the man’s lap. 

It wasn’t perfect. If he had more time, he’d get rid of the car and Eunseok’s body completely, but the sun was going to rise soon, and Mingyu was bleeding too much. There was already a chance his blood was somewhere and if the cops looked too closely— no, he wouldn’t let himself think about that. 

Slamming the door shut, Mingyu wipes down the door handle and stumbles backwards, feeling the loose concrete under his feet as he takes one last look around. There had been many times when he had fucked up, but this time really took the cake. Mingyu slides behind the wheel of his car and winces in pain as he shifts it into reverse, the wheels spinning the gravel as he speeds off towards your penthouse. 

Minghao: Has Mingyu gotten in yet?

Y/N: No, he said he’d be back in the morning. 

Staring at your phone, you felt a sense of dread in your stomach. Why would Minghao be asking you about Mingyu? And why would he be asking if he was back yet? Something felt wrong. 

Pressing down on Mingyu’s name, you put your phone to your ear, listening to the sound of it ringing as you bite on your lips. If he were at the bar, he might not answer you. He had stopped answering your texts, but you had assumed he was busy. But then there was that text from Minghao. Wasn’t he also working? 

No answer. You start to pace, your lips starting to feel raw as you hit Mingyu’s name again and listen to the three rings and then Mingyu’s voice tells you he can’t come to the phone. “What the fuck, Mingyu?” 

Leaning against the door to the penthouse, Mingyu groans, feeling his phone go off in his pocket. He didn’t know if it was Minghao, Jun, you, or worse... but he just had one thing on his mind, getting inside. You drop your phone on the couch as you hear the sound of the door opening, rushing towards it. Stopping to lift your hands to your mouth in shock as Mingyu moves through the door and leans back against it to take a deep breath. 

Your eyes follow the blood as it drips from his jacket onto the white tile, keeping you frozen in place for only a moment until you rush forward and push at his jacket, trying to get it off. “Let me see it.” Shaking his head, Mingyu knocks his head back against the door at your panicked voice. In that moment, he forgets who you are, besides the girl he’s been flirting with. All he can think is that you are being dramatic, but your fingers on his face pulling his attention to you brings him back to reality. “Take off the fucking jacket, Mingyu. I need to see what happened. Is it a gunshot? I need to see if it went through or if I need to get the bullet out.” 

Mingyu’s brows furrow as he shrugs his shoulders, letting you remove his jacket and tossing it to the floor. You’re a doctor. That realization comes back to him as you tug his t-shirt sleeve up and carefully inspect his arm. “Gunshot.” One word. That's all Mingyu can manage, but it’s enough for you. Meeting his eyes, you nod and take his left hand, leading him through the living room and finally to the couch. 

“Sit down. I need to get a few things.” Pointing at the couch, you wait for Mingyu to sit, but when he doesn’t right away, you sigh and push at his chest to guide him down. “Y/N… I can deal with it myself. You don’t gotta—” 

As if you know what Mingyu is going to say, you give him a sharp look, leaning to press your lips against his, silencing him. Leaning back just enough to look him in the eye, you furrow your brows and let out a slow breath. “Stay here and stop fucking complaining.” 

Leaning his head back on the back of the couch, Mingyu takes a deep breath, feeling the throb in his arm. Without his jacket on, the pain was even more intense and it felt like you were taking your time. In reality, you were going through your bag as quickly as possible to find what medical supplies you had the forethought to pack. The gunshot on Mingyu’s arm wasn’t life threatening, it wasn’t even something you hadn’t dealt with before, but it was more that it was him. 

Your slippers hit the floor as you quickly make your way back to Mingyu, finding him already getting antsy. You knew he could be reckless but now he was being willfully ignorant. Mingyu clinched his teeth as he pushed the skin on his bicep together as if he were making anything about his situation better—as if without any tools he could mend it. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Mingyu?! Get your dirty hands off. I swear to God, are you just being stu—” You stop mid sentence when you meet Mingyu’s eyes, seeing what you swear are tears on the rims of his eyes. You knew he was in pain; he had to be. It was one thing to be shot, the bullet to go straight through, but whoever had shot him had almost missed him and the bullet had cut through muscle and flesh, leaving a good two to three inch gash, dripping blood angrily down his arm. 

Sitting beside him, your eyes follow Mingyu’s shaky hand as it drops to his lap, blood covering his fingers. “I’m not tryin’ to be stupid. Just… it fucking hurts, Y/N.” Your stomach twists at his words, but you keep your head pulling a pair of gloves on and moving closer to get to work. 

You didn’t have everything you would have in a normal hospital setting. There was no anesthetic. You didn’t have anything to make your needle less painful as you worked it through Mingyu’s skin, and yet he didn’t complain. The most you heard from him were sharp breaths and the occasional grunt, but when you put in the final stitch and meet his eyes, Mingyu gives you an exhausted nod. 

“It’s not the best work I’ve ever done. If you had gotten here sooner and didn’t fuck with it, I might have been able to save you from some of the scarring, but—” Mingyu’s eyes follow you as you take off your soiled gloves and put them into a bag, along with a few other things, and your voice falls off into a soft breath. He didn’t care about the scar. He had plenty; another one wasn’t going to change anything. 

“Thank you. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Mingyu’s words cause you to scoff. Moving to your feet, you carefully discard the items you used before making your way to the sink to scrub your hands. He had no idea how much he had scared you and how much it frightened you that you felt anything about it. “Comes with the job. I mean, not all the time. Shit happened tonight. I didn’t mean—” 

Lifting your hands, you look up at Mingyu and shake your head, watching his mouth close, his explanation go unfinished. “I’m not sure I want the specifics. I’m just glad you aren’t any more hurt than this. When I saw the blood—” Letting out a breath, you turn off the sink and lean over the counter, looking down at the white quartz countertop under your fingers. “I know you are used to getting hurt, but it scared the shit out of me, Mingyu.” 

The bile that Mingyu felt after seeing what he had done to Eunseok churns in his stomach once again as you speak. His eyes move over your pretty face as you look at the countertop, as if it will ground you. This was why he didn’t get too close to people. If he got hurt or killed, no one would care. No one should care. Why would you care? But if you got hurt, the idea of it—thinking about you hurting like he was tonight—made Mingyu want to scream.

“Well, I’m fine, baby. You patched me up, and if you think I look bad, should’a seen the other guy.” It was a bad attempt at de-escalating the situation and Mingyu knew it. He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Shaking his head, Mingyu looks down at his blood stained fingers as you take a sharp breath, seeming to realize the magnitude of the situation. Mingyu had been shot. Someone had to have been firing that gun. What had happened to the one holding it? 

“What about the other guy, Mingyu?” Moving around the kitchen island, you wait for Mingyu to answer you, but instead he stands up and winces at the way the muscle in his arm pulls. Shaking his head, he avoids your eyes, looking towards the hallway, before bringing his hand up to his lips to start to wipe them, only to smell the copper and stop. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to take a shower and get some sleep. Thanks again, Doc.” 

Leaning his head back into the stream of water, Mingyu sighs, feeling the stress of the day weighing on him. He had thought that things were getting better. You had been a great distraction for a bit, but today was a painful reminder that his life wasn’t going to change. The pain radiating down into his fingertips was enough of a sign that this was all he was going to get. 

There was a reason that Mingyu was the way he was. He didn’t speak to his family. He didn’t keep women around for more than a night. The friends he had were all in the same line of business as he was and he wasn’t sure if things came to push or shove or if some of them would take a bullet for him. Mingyu was good at keeping people at a distance and it was for a good reason. 

You had been in his life for less than a week; barely anything had happened between the two of you, and already Mingyu was stressed over you getting hurt. He didn’t want to hurt you or be the cause of it. That had been the main reason he had gone after Eunseok the way he had. If Eunseok hadn’t seen your name, maybe Mingyu would have come back to the penthouse and called it a night. Maybe he could have let everything go, but seeing that smirk on the man’s lips and thinking of a dozen things that could happen to you had sent him over the edge. 

Leaning his forehead against the shower wall, Mingyu runs his tongue over his lips, collecting the water from them as he curses himself mentally. What would you think he told you about why he had killed a person tonight? What would you think if you really understood that he had killed someone? You’d be terrified of him, and rightfully so, but that was Mingyu’s life. That was this life that Jun was trying to keep you from. 

Hitting his head lightly against the tile as he groans, having made up his mind, Mingyu stands at his full height and reaches over to turn off the shower with more force than necessary. Things had been fun while they lasted but if he was going to keep you safe—safe from him—he needed to distance himself from you. Jun would be back in another week and you would be out of his hair. He just needed to do the bare minimum and keep you out of trouble. You weren’t important to him. 

Even thinking the lie made Mingyu feel sick to his stomach as he swiped his hand across the mirror, wiping the condensation from it. His eyes move to his arm and your careful work. While he was in pain, Mingyu knew it could be much worse. He had been in worse situations before, with hack-job doctors patching him up, leaving him with infections. Being careful not to touch the stitches, Mingyu furrows his brows as he runs his fingers along his bicep and sighs your name under his breath as if it will make his plan any easier. 

A towel around his waist, Mingyu pushes the door to his bathroom open, still going over what he’s going to say to you once he’s dressed, only to stop in his tracks when he sees you sitting on his bed. Every thought of pushing you away almost instantaneously slips from his mind when you give him a sad smile, lifting your shoulders as your eyes move over his body finally landing on his arm. 

“I wanna wrap your arm. You need to keep it clean and dry.” Looking down at the gauze in your hand, you try not to focus on how Mingyu’s body makes you feel, because in that moment, it’s not why you are there. You had come to his room to help him and to tell him something important; it wasn’t your fault that he was wet and almost naked. Clearing your throat, you nod, still looking at your hands and listening to the sound of Mingyu’s feet on the wood floor as you speak. “And I wanted to apologize for what I asked earlier. It’s not my place to question your job. I know you are doing your best. Mingyu—” 

Fingers slide along your jaw and the heel of Mingyu’s hand lifts, tilting your head up towards him as he stands next to the bed in front of you. You can see the sadness in his eyes and it makes you want to question him, but instead you just whine his name one more time, breaking his resolve completely. There was no staying away from you, no doing the bare minimum—that was the stupidest idea Mingyu had ever thought of. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of your soft lips against his as he leaned over you. 

Your fingers flex in the air before you reach for something in front of you, one hand finding Mingyu’s waist and the other his forearm. The feeling of his damp skin under your hands grounds you and reminds you why you were there in the first place, giving you the strength to pull back from the kiss even as Mingyu chases your lips. “Wait, no, I want it. Please, Mingyu… I want this. I just—let me wrap your arm first. Okay, baby?” 

Baby. Hearing that name on your lips causes Mingyu to shudder, his mouth falling open as he nods silently. You tug gently on his arm, bringing him towards the bed, feeling shy under his intense gaze. Your touch is gentle as you work the gauze around Mingyu’s bicep a few times, covering the wound completely. Mingyu smirks to himself, watching how your brows crease in the middle when you concentrate, being careful to place the medical tape in the right places before finally meeting his eyes. 

“Am I allowed to kiss you now? Can I move?” You make an unsure sound at Mingyu’s question even as he takes the roll of tape from your hands and puts it on the nightstand beside you. “I—yes, but you have to be careful, and... take these first.” Dodging another kiss, you listen to Mingyu groan in frustration as you swipe two pills from the nightstand and offer them to him along with a glass of water. 

“What are they?” Furrowing his brows as he looks at the pills in your palm, Mingyu extends his own hand for you to drop them into before popping them into your mouth without hearing the explanation first. “Vicodin… I don’t have a lot with me, but I keep a few things... just in case.” 

Taking a gulp of the water, Mingyu nods along with your words, feeling grateful. He knew he would have had his own way of coping with pain, but your way seemed safer in hindsight. Letting you take the glass of water back, Mingyu tilts his head, waiting for you to stop him once again, but a small smile on your lips causes one to pull on his own. Using his left hand, Mingyu wraps it around your waist and tugs you down in bed, relishing in the sound of your surprised breath as he leans over your body and smiles against your lips. 

“Be careful… don’t pop your stitches.” Lightly running your fingers along Mingyu’s right arm, you stay away from the end of the gauze as Mingyu moves his lips to your jaw, speaking between kisses. “‘M fine. I don’t need that arm for this. Just need your clothes off.” 

Your mind felt clouded from the moment that Mingyu’s lips were on your skin. You couldn’t think of anything other than him. You were enjoying the warmth of his breath on your neck, the way his nails scratched at your skin as he pulled your clothes from your body, and how big he felt against your thigh under his towel. 

Tracing his side, you arch your back as Mingyu’s lips brush over your nipple, his teeth catching the bud between them with a groan. Your fingers push into the top of the towel wrapped around Mingyu’s waist and a soft chuckle against your breast tells you everything that you need to know. Glancing down at where the towel had once been, Mingyu shakes his head and tosses it to the ground, letting you feel his leaking cock against your skin. 

“If you wanted my cock out all you had to do was tell me, sweetheart.” Your eyes fall to where you feel Mingyu rut against your leg and your lips fall open in a soft moan at the sight. He was perfect. Everything about him. From his face, to his body, to his cock… he was everything you wanted in a lover. “Oh my god, Mingyu. Let me ride you.” 

That hadn’t been what Mingyu had expected. Smirking, he presses a soft kiss on your chest as he meets your eyes and tilts his head. “Yeah, that’s what you want? You don’t want me to fuck you into the mattress?” Whining, you lean your head back, trying to escape his eyes, only for Mingyu to reach up with his left hand to tilt your head back towards him before he works his kisses along your stomach, downwards. “Asked you a question, pretty girl.” 

Lifting your hips, you whimper, feeling Mingyu’s breath fanning across your folds as he moves your legs apart so he can rest between them. Putting one leg over his left shoulder, the other bent up and resting to the side, he keeps his eyes on you as he runs his index finger through your wet folds, waiting patiently for you to speak. 

“Yes… I mean—fuck, Mingyu. Can’t I ride you tonight? You can have me anyway you want later. Rest your arm. Let me sit on it.” The more you speak, the more embarrassed you get, and your voice gets meeker and meeker. You watch as Mingyu’s smirk spreads into a grin and he leans to press a kiss on your inner thigh before nipping lightly at the soft skin. 

“Mmkay, angel. You can sit on my dick, but first I gotta make sure you even can.” Before you can speak, question him about what you already know he’s going to do. Mingyu runs his tongue in a long stripe from your dripping hole to your clit with a groan. Choking back a moan, you grab at the comforter under you, getting flashbacks at how hard he had made you cum at breakfast with his tongue. 

“Please, please, please...” Mingyu wasn’t sure what you were begging for, but he wanted to give it to you. He didn’t want to make you wait for an orgasm tonight because, in his mind, that only prolonged his and he was already leaking obscenely as he rocked his hips against the bed under him. The sound of you moaning his name alone was enough to make him feel like he was going to cum, but this time he was determined to feel your pussy around his cock. 

Working two fingers into you, Mingyu pulls back from your soaked folds to watch your mouth fall open with a silent gasp at the intrusion. You were so tight that even two fingers were stretching you out. He was bigger than two of his fingers, and you were making his mind spin with how you were fucking yourself on them, begging for more. 

“Yeah? More? Fuck, you are such a pretty little slut. Taking my fingers so good in this tight cunt. What if I—” Pushing a third in beside the first two, Mingyu groans, resting his forehead against your thigh when your moan raises an octave, your walls closing around his fingers like a vice. “That’s my girl… Want you to cum for me. You want my cock? You better cum for me.” 

Throwing your head back against the pillows, you scream Mingyu’s name as your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave. Even if Mingyu hadn’t told you to cum for him the moment his fingers had filled you the way they had, you were a goner. He seemed to know what made you tick and exactly what to do to make you fall apart, and he did it so well. 

Chuckling under his breath, Mingyu brushes his lips along your jaw before pressing a kiss to your lips and nodding to the feeling of your cum soaking his fingers. After a few more thrusts of his fingers, he carefully slides them away from you and groans to the feeling of your body trying to suck them back in. “You are so fucking greedy, angel. What are you doing to me?” 

Shaking your head, you whine out Mingyu’s name, trying to answer his question, but you don't know the answer. You weren’t necessarily trying to do anything to him, you just wanted him more than anyone you had ever wanted in your entire life. Groaning on your lips, Mingyu trails his wet fingers along your hip to your side, pushing you down on the bed until you push at his chest, making him laugh. You were persistent. 

“I know, baby. I promised. It’s yours.” Licking his lips, Mingyu turns to roll from laying on top of you to resting beside you, adjusting a pillow behind his head. When you meet his eyes, you can’t help but roll your eyes at how cocky he looks. You watch as he licks his fingers clean of your cum and smiles around them, lifting his brows as he waits for you to get moving. 

“You are insufferable.” Mingyu laughs at your words, his eyes moving along your body as you move to your knees and slide one leg over his thighs so you can sit over them. Even he had to admit that it was a beautiful fucking view. He could feel his cock jerk and leak from just the sight of you; he couldn’t imagine what he was going to do once he was inside of you. “Yeah? Maybe, but you are the one who’s gonna be sitting on my cock.” 

Mingyu’s fingers slide along your thighs as he smirks up at you. He looked too good to be true, lying somewhat impatiently under you. It was almost unfair how perfect he could look even with the gauze wrapped around his arm, a bit of crimson seeping through from movement. Grabbing his right hand, you pin it to the bed gently as you shake your head and wrap your other hand around the shaft of his cock, stroking him slowly. “Keep this arm down.” 

Groaning, Mingyu lifts his hips towards your hand and flexes the fingers of his right hand, tightening them into a fist as he grips at your thigh with his left. He both loved and hated this. He loved your hands on him, but he wanted to be inside of you so badly that he wanted to put you back on your back. He wanted to have you on his cock and screaming his name, but instead you had him whining yours. 

“Fu—fuck. Don’t tease. I haven’t… I didn’t tease you tonight. Said you wanted to ride me, so ride it.” Mingyu’s strained words have your eyebrows lifting in surprise. Pre-cum was running along your fingers with each stroke of your hand and you were beginning to wonder if you kept doing this for too long if he’d cum. From the sounds leaving his lips, you were almost certain he would. 

Moving to your knees, you press your hand to the center of Mingyu’s chest as you use the other to keep his cock exactly where you want him. Your eyes never leave his face as you slowly take him inch by inch until you are sitting flush against his hips, your mouth falling open in a soft moan. 

Mingyu tried to keep his hands down and do what you had told him to do, but the moment he was inside of you—feeling you around him for the first time—he felt like his brain was going to explode. Hands grab at your waist as Mingyu groans, trying to sit up and move you over him, desperate to get some relief. 

“Why can’t you do what I told you? Be good, Gyu.” Your words were driving him insane. You had to know what you were doing. Your soft fingers trail over Mingyu’s arm, putting his hand back on the bed next to him as your other hand slides up his chest, forcing him back down on the bed. 

Rolling your hips down over Mingyu, you have to close your eyes and take a breath, feeling just how much his cock is stretching you. You knew he was big. There was no way you hadn’t noticed, but seeing it and feeling it was different. There was so much about Mingyu that you were getting used to and you were becoming addicted to the feeling. 

“I just—fuck, Y/N. Feel so fuckin’ good. Ride me, baby. Bounce on my cock, huh? You are squeezing the hell out of me.” You knew you were doing it even before Mingyu told you. No matter how much you tried to relax, it was hard to do as you felt him rutting his hips up towards yours. 

Bracing yourself with one hand on Mingyu’s chest and the other holding his left hand, you nod and fall back to your knees, lifting yourself up before sitting back down. The feeling is overwhelming in all the best ways. You can feel how deep Mingyu is inside of you. You can feel the pressure building in your lower abdomen and rising even towards your chest as tears coat your eyes. 

Mingyu furrows his brows, his eyes fixed on your face, as you get into a rhythm moving over his cock. Each time your ass meets his thighs, he thrusts his hips up hard, listening to you cry out in pleasure. 

“Please, it feels so good, Mingyu. I need to cum.” The words are almost spoken on a sob as you start to slow down, getting tired. Mingyu can tell you are frustrated not only by getting tired but also by your desire. Using his left arm, he wraps it around your waist and flips you on your back, reaching between the two of you to push his cock back into you in one fluid motion. 

Surprised, you reach for Mingyu’s right arm, only for him to pin your hand to the bed with his right hand and thrust into you hard and deep. “I’m fine… just need you to cum on my cock. That’d make me feel better. Wouldn’t it make you feel better, angel?” 

Nodding, tears running from your eyes towards your temples, you whine Mingyu’s name as his thrusts become urgent, almost desperate, pushing you over the edge. Lips find your throat, a deep groan of pleasure leaves Mingyu’s throat as he slips from you and you feel warm, sticky cum spill from him on to your stomach. 

Running your fingers through Mingyu’s hair, you lick your lips while trying to catch your breath, feeling him do the same in the crook of your neck. It takes a few minutes before he finally sits back and his eyes move along the length of your body, finally resting on your stomach, where his cum paints your body. 

Shaking his head, Mingyu doesn’t even try to hide his smirk as he pushes his index finger through the cum, spreading it over your skin and enjoying seeing it on you. “That feels gross.” Chuckling under his breath at your complaint, Mingyu lifts his brows, dragging his finger up towards your breast, stopping short and moving his eyes to yours. “But you look so fucking sexy covered in my cum, sweetheart. Almost hate to wash it off of you.” 

Lowering your eyes to where his fingers rest on your ribs, you let out a faux annoyed sound that makes Mingyu laugh once again, his lips meeting yours as you smile, speaking between gentle kisses. “Then I guess you’ll just have to fuck me more often, Kim Mingyu…” 

With a gentle nip at your bottom lip, Mingyu pulls back to look down at you once more before finally moving to stand at the side of the bed and reaching for his discarded towel. You suck in your stomach at the feeling of his fingers pushing against it, cleaning his cum from your body so delicately as he purses his lips. “Maybe I will.” 

Despite pain being what wakes him up first, Mingyu finds himself staring at you as you lay facing him in the low light of the bedroom. It didn’t matter if he felt like shit; if his arm felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, he still managed to turn on his side and lift his left arm so that he could carefully touch you. 

In Mingyu’s opinion, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. You made him jealous of the sun as it slowly creeped along your exposed skin. He couldn’t help but give in to his temptation, gently following the light with his fingers as he walked them along your skin. You made him wish for more; you made him wish for this… Things that seemed so far from what he knew. Life with you seemed like it could be so simple and more importantly, it seemed so warm. Mingyu had never felt so warm. 

All of those feelings are ripped away from him by the sound of his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. It wouldn’t be his mom or his dad. It wouldn’t be his sister or an aunt calling to ask if he was having a good day; there were only a few people it could be and as he turned over to pick it up, the searing pain in his arm and blood staining the sheets from where it had leaked through the gauze reminded Mingyu even more that his life wasn’t simple and warm. He was cold and impossible. This with you was an impossible, stupid, childish dream, and Mingyu needed to wake up. 

Giving one more lingering look at you lying peacefully in bed, Mingyu grabs his phone from the nightstand, a pair of pants from a chair, and moves into the living room. “Yeah?” 

That wasn’t how Minghao expected or wanted Mingyu to answer his call, but it didn’t surprise him. Nothing did anymore. At least he was alive, even if he did sound worse for wear. “So you do know how to pick up the phone. What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Sitting down on the couch, Mingyu glances over at his arm, his brows knitted together at not only Minghao’s nagging, but also the feeling of the gauze sticking to his stitches. Pulling at the tape, he sighs and balances the phone on his left shoulder as he unwraps his arm, realizing he had forgotten to call Minghao the night before. “I just got busy—” 

“Fuck you. I know exactly what you were doing.” At first, Mingyu wonders if Minghao knows about you and him, but when Minghao continues, it’s even worse. “Lucky for you, the dumb ass cops in that district actually believe it’s a mugging gone wrong. At least you aren’t a complete fuckin’ idiot.” 

Wadding the gauze up in his hand, Mingyu leans his head back and lets out a longer sigh. Minghao was worse than a parent when things happened that weren’t ideal. No, killing Eunseok wasn’t ideal, but it had happened and now, in Mingyu’s mind, at least the cops weren’t looking for him. At least they didn’t think it was linked to the lounge. "Well, thanks; it means a lot coming from you. Sorry I inconvenienced you, Hao.” 

Minghao had heard of Mingyu’s pity parties and been there for his mental breakdowns, but this one was the worst. Lifting his hand to the bridge of his nose, Minghao shakes his head and sighs. The call suddenly becomes quiet, causing Mingyu to shift on the couch anxiously. As much as he put on a brave face and stood up to Minghao, he still didn’t want him to be that disappointed in him; he didn’t want to cause major problems. 

“It—look…I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t fix it. I can’t really fucking fix it. It happened so fucking fast.” Mingyu knew he was rambling, but the self loathing that he always felt was bubbling to the surface. He felt the disappointment even through the phone. “He shot me and I reacted—” 

“He shot you? What the fuck? Are you okay? I fuckin’ told you to call me Mingyu!” Hearing the sound of Minghao moving around, grabbing keys, and god knows what else, Mingyu sits up, his voice strained as he tries to calm his friend down. “I’m fine! A bad graze, but... it’s fine. I should have called. You don’t have to come here. I can come to you if you want.” 

Stopping in the doorway of his apartment, Minghao narrows his eyes and grips the doorframe tightly as he sighs and takes a step backwards. “You need to get one of Jun’s guys to look at it. You can’t just hold it together with shitty tape like you tried to do with your leg—” 

“I’m not! Y/N…” Minghao has to listen even closer to hear Mingyu when he speaks softer, his volume dropping almost to a whisper, as if he’s afraid you might hear him. “Y/N, she stitched it up.” 

Minghao isn’t sure if that is better or worse. The fact that a doctor—a real hands to god doctor—had taken care of him but that same doctor was you. You had seen some of the worst parts of what he and Jun tried to keep from you. Mingyu was reckless and stupid. “She’s supposed to be kept away from this shit, Mingyu. Remember that? Or is that something you forgot, like keeping your dick in your pants?” 

Leaning forward, Mingyu rests his head in his hand. The words should have made him mad, but after waking up and having his own coming to Jesus moment, he knew that Minghao was right. “I know. I fucked up. She’s too good for this, she’s way too good to be messed up with a piece of shit like me.” 

There was truth to Mingyu’s words, but there was also a lot of self loathing mixed in that made Minghao even more pissed off and concerned about him. It wasn’t that he wanted Mingyu with you, but he also didn’t think that he was the biggest piece of shit that you had ever had the misfortune to lock lips with. There were worse choices, even if this choice was a walking headache at the moment. 

“She is good. She’s too good for all of us, Jun included, but that doesn’t mean—” Mingyu listens to Minghao sigh loudly, cutting himself off. “Nevermind, lay low. I don’t want you in or around the bar for a while.” 

The last thing that Mingyu wanted to do was avoid the bar. He wanted to keep his mind busy and not dwell on what had happened, but even as he starts to argue, Minghao is quick to shut him down. “I’m not asking! Jun left me in charge, so you’ll do as I say. If the cops come snoopin’ around, I don’t need your big dumb ass here.” 

Of course, Minghao would pull the ‘I’m in charge’ card now. Mingyu knew he was right, it would be stupid to go to the last place that he and Eunseok were seen together, but it wasn’t like him to hide. Groaning under his breath, Mingyu nods before sitting up and letting out a deep breath. “Fine. Whatever you want.” 

Minghao hated benching Mingyu; he needed him at the bar in reality, but he had done this to himself and now he had to clean up the mess. “Glad you understand. I’ll call you later.” 

You smile softly, feeling warmth on your hip and walking along your side. In your head, you picture Mingyu’s fingers causing that warm feeling. You can see him lying beside you, his eyes moving along your body as you slowly wake up, but when you open your eyes, you only see a bit of blood on the white sheet where he had been. Your smile is quickly replaced by a look of concern as you sit up and look around the room for him, only to see a pair of pants you had seen yesterday missing from a chair. 

Running your hands along your arms, you realize how cold the room suddenly feels without him. One more look at the splotches of blood tells you his gauze needs to be changed out and his stitches checked, but maybe he was taking care of something. Looking for your cell phone, you grab it from the nightstand and furrow your brows at a missed call from Jun. It had been a few days since he had checked in, and you find yourself missing him. The trip had originally been to see him and catch up, but the timing had been off. 

Glancing down the hall, you hear Mingyu’s voice low and a bit tense as he talks to someone on the phone. Wanting to give him time and privacy, you turn towards your bedroom and put your phone on the nightstand, hitting Jun’s name and putting it on speaker phone so you can talk to him and get dressed at the same time. 

“Sleeping in late on your impromptu vacation?” At first, Jun’s voice makes you smile until you hear the strain in it. There was a layer of anxiety that you could pick up on even in another country or through a phone call. “A little bit... what’s wrong?” 

Jun wanted to be in the pool with his fiancée. He wanted to be enjoying the island and getting drunk, but instead this afternoon he was trying not to rip his hair out. “Just wanting to check on my sister. Is that a crime? I miss you.” 

While you could believe most of what Jun was telling you, the way his voice sounded kept you on edge as you pursed your lips and pulled a pair of jeans up your legs. “I miss you too. How’s your vacation? How’s Haneul?” 

Jun watches the sun move across the water as Haneul moves through it with a smile on her face, unaware of the situation, just as he likes it. Meeting her eyes for a moment, Jun winks at his pretty fiancée before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “She’s perfect. The island is nice. You should have just met us here; there’d be less idiotic temptation.” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at hearing what you think is the main reason why Jun sounds like he does. Obviously, he had heard something about you and Mingyu. Your scoff doesn’t go unnoticed by your brother, who lifts his brows and lets out his own scoff before starting to scold you. “I told you to be good while I was gone. You insisted on this trip even though you knew I wasn’t going to be there. I knew leaving you with that whore was a mistake.” 

Hearing Jun call Mingyu a whore makes you stop what you are doing as you laugh at how ridiculous it sounds. Tugging your shirt down your torso, you shake your head before looking up at the ceiling and starting to tell him as much when Jun speaks first. “I know it sounds funny, Y/N, but I’m not kidding, okay? He goes through women faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. He’s not good for you. He’s dangerous.” 

Jun telling you that anyone was dangerous also seemed like a joke, but you had spent the night before putting stitches into Mingyu’s arm, so you knew there was a layer of truth to it. Swallowing hard, you look back down at your hands, shaking your head once more. “Jun—I… come on. He’s so sweet—” 

“So he can get in your pants, Y/N! Use that smart brain of yours. Have your fun, but know that he’s not serious and he really is dangerous. I’m not joking about that.” You try to come up with the right words to tell Jun that you don’t care, that you aren’t afraid of Mingyu, and that he can change. But feeling eyes on you from the doorway, you turn to meet Mingyu’s gaze. The look in his eyes is disappointed but resigned and it breaks your heart. 

“I gotta go.” Jun tries to argue with you, telling you that he needs to know that you understand, but you are quick to end the call, watching Mingyu shake his head and turn from your room, moving towards his own. “Mingyu! He’s–where are you going? Don’t worry about what Jun says. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Mingyu knew you’d say something like that. You were a good person, a sweet girl, but your brother was right. Grabbing a shirt, Mingyu pulls it over his head and runs his fingers through his hair as he hears you move into the room behind him. “You should listen to him. He’s my boss for a reason. I’m trouble, just like he said.” 

Reaching out for him, you get your hand around his waist only to feel his shirt slip from your fingers as Mingyu scoffs and sidesteps out of your grasp. “Y/N, grow up. If last night, seeing that shit didn’t prove it to you, you must be fuckin’ stupid.” 

Turning to face you, Mingyu isn’t surprised to see a shocked look on your face at hearing him call you stupid. His words bite at your confidence, but mostly at your heart. You can see the look in Mingyu’s eyes—how he is trying to push you away by hurting you—and it only makes your heart hurt worse. 

“Stop it. Why—no, I’m not stupid. I know who you are. Don’t do this, Gyu.” You sound so desperate and almost like you are in love with him that Mingyu’s chest feels like it’s going to implode. He wants to give into you, pull you into his arms and tell you how sorry he is for calling you stupid, but that isn’t how to fix this. He had to keep you safe, and safe is as far away from him as possible. 

“Do what? Tell a little girl the truth. Wake the fuck up, sweetheart. Use those brains you claim to have. I got fuckin’ shot yesterday. You think that’s a one time thing?” Watching tears coat your eyes, Mingyu takes a step towards you, even as you take one backward. “You think you are special? Like you are the only girl I’ve fucked? Nah, another notch in my belt.” 

Mingyu’s words are like a gut punch and as much as you know he is trying to hurt you, he is succeeding. Once he has walked you out into the hallway, Mingyu gives you one last look. The pain of seeing tears running down your cheeks is unbearable, but he keeps himself stone faced as you follow him into the living room, watching him pull on his damaged leather jacket, wincing in pain. “Where are you going? Do you think it’s a good idea to go out?” 

Speaking between sniffing back tears, you aren’t even sure Mingyu hears you as he shoves his gun into the holster on his side until he gives you a passing glance. Shrugging, he grabs his keys, shoves them into his pocket and lets out a deep sigh. “Who gives a fuck?” 

Sitting at the bar of the Dovetail Casino, Mingyu taps the glass in front of him to signal to the pretty bartender to fill it back up. He was on his fourth drink and had no intention of slowing down. Beside him, Jeon Wonwoo watches as Mingyu’s phone goes off for the umpteenth time. Someone was trying to get into him desperately and clearly Mingyu had no intention of picking it up as he once again reached over to decline the call. 

“Don’t wanna talk to Y/N?” Scoffing at hearing your name on the lawyer’s lips, Mingyu rolls his eyes and smiles at the bartender as she fills his glass up with whiskey once more. “You shouldn’t read other people’s phones. Don’t they teach that in lawyer school?” 

While Wonwoo didn’t know who you exactly were, it didn’t really matter; you clearly mattered to Mingyu, and the two of you were having a fight of some sort. He had been a lawyer long enough to recognize that, though anyone with eyes could probably tell that Mingyu was getting drunk for a reason. “Girlfriend?” 

Shooting Wonwoo a dirty look, Mingyu tips his glass back, ice meeting his lips, slowing down how quickly the alcohol can pour into his mouth, but only by a slight margin. The sound of the glass hitting the wooden bar makes Wonwoo hiss, knowing he was either on the right track or he had hit a nerve. 

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just some stupid girl with some idea of me that she’s made up in her head. She thinks she’ll get some white picket fence with me.” Gesturing towards himself, Mingyu scoffs and Wonwoo gives his friend a once over sigh, knowing what he is trying to say as Mingyu continues. “She’s an idiot to be so fucking smart and beautiful…” 

Wonwoo brings his own glass to his lips, nursing it much slower than Mingyu was. Mingyu was already getting drunk, while Wonwoo was barely filling a buzz. Wonwoo could see what was happening even if Mingyu didn’t want to. Just from the brief description of you that he had gotten, he knew that Mingyu was full of shit. You might not “be his girlfriend,” but that didn’t stop Mingyu from being into you. 

“Why is it bothering you so much? This is the girl you’ve been watching.” Watching Mingyu nod and look at his now empty glass, Wonwoo sighs as Mingyu lifts his hand, asking for a fifth drink. “Just have Minghao take over. It’s that easy, right? Then you don’t have to be with her all the fucking time.” 

It could be that easy, but hearing Wonwoo say it made Mingyu want to throw up. Maybe it was all the whiskey on an empty stomach, but Mingyu didn’t want anyone else watching over you. He didn’t care if Minghao was like family to you; he had been asked to do this and he wasn’t going to just give up.

“What—no. Just admit I’m a failure. Do I look like a fuckin’ failure to you?” Hearing Wonwoo sigh, Mingyu looks back down at his empty glass, the ice melting, wishing the bartender would be a bit quicker about filling it up. “She leaves next week.” His words are quieter than they had been the entire time the two had been sitting at the bar. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but he hated the idea of you getting on that plane. He hated that you were sitting at home pissed off at him and worse, he had made you sad. Yes, he had done it on purpose, but he had his reasons. If you were mad at him, if you distanced yourself from him, it would be easier to watch you leave him. 

Nodding, Wonwoo furrows his brows, seeing the pain on Mingyu’s face as the bartender tells Mingyu he’s reached his limit and she won't give him another for a while. It was for the best, he could tell Mingyu didn’t need anything else to drink; he was staring at the empty glass like it was a life preserver, even though the alcohol that had been in it was only helping him to sink further. Wonwoo understood the feeling better than Mingyu probably realized. 

“My advice, whether you want it or not, get your shit together. Don’t lose her because of your pride and because you think you know best.” Furrowing his brows, Mingyu glances over at Wonwoo, trying to figure out how he’d know so much about what he was thinking about, but the look on his friend’s face, the pain written in his eyes make him stop and just listen. “Trust me, I understand something about losing someone who means so much to you. Wishing you could go back and change who you were… Don’t fuck it up like me.” 

Mingyu wants to ask what happened, who Wonwoo had lost, but he watches as Wonwoo tips his drink back, draining it before putting it back down on the bar with a sigh. He had never seen Wonwoo look so sad and stuck in the past before and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to again. 

Digging the spoon out of the ice cream once again, you bring it to your lips as you sniff back your tears, your eyes not really focusing on what is on the television in front of you. After Mingyu had left, you had resorted to a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream while sitting on your bed and trying to become one with it. 

You had been through plenty of breakups in the past, but Mingyu’s words hurt you worse than any other man’s ever had. You knew he had been trying to hurt you and you also knew he was full of shit. He didn’t really mean it, even if he was trying so hard to convince himself that he did. For some reason, he wanted you to hate him and the longer you sat in bed, the ice cream in your lap disappeared. You felt like it was a possibility. 

But as much as you wanted to give into that feeling, just hate him, you could still feel how good it felt to be in his arms. To feel his lips and fingers on your skin as he made you feel comfortable and safe. So instead of hate, you just felt depressed. You were beginning to wonder if you should look at available flights to leave early. 

Standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, Mingyu watches you pout into your glass of wine before you follow the sip with a bite of ice cream. You were adorable as you paid more attention to what was on your phone, sniffing back your emotions, than you did to whatever you had playing on the television.  

He knew he should just make a right into his room and leave you alone, but all Mingyu can hear are Wonwoo’s words echoing in his mind. ‘Don’t fuck it up like me.’ You drove him crazy. No other woman had made Mingyu feel like this. He knows he could keep lying to you, keep making you cry and watch you get on that plane in a week, but just the thought of it makes Mingyu’s stomach churn. 

Taking one step after another, Mingyu moves into your bedroom, drawing your eyes up from your phone to him. You can’t help the surprised look on your face as he reaches for the remote, turns the television off and tosses the remote into the chair without a second glance. “Mingyu…” Your voice is soft, confused, and full of hurt. The sound of it breaks Mingyu’s heart and his resolve as he takes the ice cream out of your lap and puts it on the nightstand with your wine before sliding his hand along the side of your face and pressing his lips against yours. 

The kiss isn’t rushed and it is so different from every other kiss that you and Mingyu have shared up to that moment. Mingyu’s tongue glides along yours as you moan softly into the deep kiss, your fingers grabbing at his jacket, tears already running down your cheeks as your emotions get the better of you. Leaning back, Mingyu brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, then presses kisses on each one before standing up to his full height and taking his clothes off piece by piece before repeating the process with you. 

You feel your head spin once his lips are back on yours and your back is on the mattress. Mingyu’s body pressed against yours. He groaned into your mouth, feeling your hand slide along his hip towards his cock before leaning back to wrap his hand around yours, bringing your fingers to his lips. 

“Just let me...” The sentence seems unfinished, but you nod, feeling Mingyu’s fingers slide along your forearm as his lips find your jaw and work to your neck, leaving you breathless. He had kissed you before. You had felt his lips almost all over your body, but this was different. He was almost worshiping your body this time and he wasn’t in a rush. 

It was as if Mingyu was seeing you—really seeing you for the first time. He was taking the time to touch every mole or scar on your body and then kiss it before meeting your eyes when you sighed out his name. If Mingyu hadn’t been addicted to you before this, now there was no way he could deny it. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful. Sound so pretty for me. Wanna… just—” Mingyu was talking to you—or more so, he was talking at you as he worked his kisses along your leg and towards your inner thigh. When his lips meet your wet, soft folds, you lift your hips off the bed and Mingyu groans quietly, gently pushing you back down. Any other time he would have pinned you to the bed and devoured you but this time his touch was gentle; you were floating from it and the feeling of his tongue circling your clit. 

It doesn’t take long before your thighs are closed around Mingyu’s head, his groans muffled as his hands grip your hips, holding you close to him until you fall apart on his tongue. When your legs start to tremble, you let out a sob of Mingyu’s name, your fingers running through his hair as you push your hips into the bed, asking for mercy. Smiling against your now swollen folds, Mingyu presses one more kiss on your pussy before pushing himself up on the bed with his left arm to watch you try to catch your breath, coming down from your orgasm. 

“Taste so good, baby. I could do that all damn night.” Shaking your head, you reach for Mingyu, whining as he laughs and moves up in bed between your legs. His lips once again find your neck and you try to continue to come down from your orgasm, but when Mingyu nips at your skin, you moan his name, making him smile. “Love hearing my name on your lips so fuckin’ much. Wanna hear it all the time. Can I?” 

At first, you aren’t sure if he’s asking for you to say his name again or something else, but his fingers brushing through your sensitive folds before he does the same with the head of his cock makes you understand. He hadn’t asked any other time; why this time? Did it even matter why? It seemed to matter to your heart as your chest tightened when you nodded and whispered out your pleas for him to get inside of you. 

Carefully pushing the head of his cock into you, Mingyu closes his eyes and groans to the feeling of your warmth pulling him in. He feels the urge to just bury himself into you in one hard thrust, but instead he prolongs it. Meeting your eyes, he watches your mouth fall open in a moan as slowly, inch by inch, he pushes into your walls, letting them hug him tight. “Holy shit. That’s my girl. Holding me like you don’t wanna let me go, huh?” 

You didn’t. You never wanted him to leave you, both in bed and in your life. You loved the way he was looking at you. You loved the way he was kissing you and the way he was making love to you. Every other time he had fucked you, this was making love. Even if he probably wouldn’t admit it, you knew the difference and you knew that he did too. 

Mingyu’s forearms rest under your arms, his hands on either of your shoulders as he presses his forehead to yours. Each one of his thrusts is deep, powerful, but slow, as if he wants hours of you in this bed. Nudging his nose against yours, Mingyu smiles, hearing your choked moans as he pushes one of his knees into the mattress, changing the angle of his thrusts so that his cock perfectly rubs against that spot with each movement. “All I want is one more. Just love making you feel good, angel. Love hearing you sing for me, feeling you all over my cock.” 

There was dirty talk and then there was Kim Mingyu’s dirty talk. He could be almost lewd at times, but this was completely different. He had made your skin feel like it was on fire—calling you a whore or a slut, but this—loving everything about you, wanting to hear you sing for him, making you feel good? This was pushing you over the edge, possibly even more than the feeling of his cock brushing against your g-spot over and over again. 

Scratching at Mingyu’s sides, you tighten your legs around his hips, feeling the pressure that had been building in your abdomen give way. Your orgasm rips through you and Mingyu can barely move with how tightly your walls close around him. Gasping into a groan, he tries to get a full breath and keep himself from losing control. 

Trying to pull from you to keep himself from cumming inside of you, Mingyu meets your eyes, sees the pout on your lips and feels your legs hold him tighter. You didn’t want him to pull out. He never came inside of girls. That was another one of his rules, a way to keep himself from catching feelings or any trouble, but with one more deep thrust, Mingyu breaks that rule. 

Groaning your name against your lips, Mingyu is the one who feels like he’s losing his mind with how good it feels to be inside you and to feel your warm, soft walls around him as his cums. He loved seeing his cum on you, but this was special. It’s like you were made for him and made to take everything he gave you. 

Running your fingers through Mingyu’s hair, you close your eyes, letting him rest his cheek against your shoulder. Both of you slowly come down from your euphoric highs. A smile pulls at your lips when you feel your lips press against your throat and Mingyu’s hands slide from under you so he can carefully pull from you and look down at you. 

“Was—is that okay? What happened?” You could see the concern written in Mingyu’s eyes. Lifting your hand, you brush your thumb over his cheek and feel your chest once again tighten as he rests his face in your palm, waiting for you to answer him. “Of course it was. I wanted it. I wouldn’t have let you if I wasn’t on birth control and sure, Mingyu.” 

Taking a deep breath of relief, Mingyu nods before turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. You watch as he slides from the bed and rubs his lips together, glancing around the room before landing on the door to the bathroom. Smiling, you let your eyes follow him as he moves into the ensuite before you hear him turn on the tap in the shower. 

Coming back into the bedroom, Mingyu rubs the side of his neck with his right arm as he offers you his left hand. Though you take his hand, sitting up, ready to go with him, you can’t help the way your eyes migrate from his face to the angry stitches on his right arm. Furrowing your brows as you stand, you mutter his name and carefully touch the hot skin around the wound before meeting Mingyu’s eyes. 

“I’ll clean it and wrap it after the shower, okay? You have to take better care of this. It’ll get infected, babe.” Letting go of Mingyu’s hand, you don’t see the way his brows furrow and how his breath gets caught in his throat when you call him babe. His eyes follow you into the bathroom as you open a bag on the counter, digging through different pill bottles until you find the one you want and say his name once again. 

“I have some antibiotics. They should help… if I can talk to someone here in Seoul, I can get you an actual script.” Looking around for Mingyu in the bathroom, that’s when you realize he’s still standing in the bedroom looking at you, almost dazed. Lifting your hand out for him is what brings him back to you and gets his feet moving. 

Sliding his fingers along yours, Mingyu swallows hard and looks at the pills in your hand when you offer him two, ready to tell him to take them after the shower, only to watch him dry swallow them. Scoffing, you shake your head and sigh, knowing you were falling hard for him, as Mingyu simply smiles at you and guides you towards the shower with him. 

A week later, you found yourself settling into a routine with Mingyu. It was a confusing existence, but you were happy even if Jun wasn’t. He had cut his own vacation short to see you before you were planning to head back to China, and finding you and Mingyu playing house didn’t sit well with him. It took a lot of convincing and reminding him that you weren’t a child for your brother to let you “make your own mistakes” and let you see this through. 

It wasn’t like you could just look at him or Minghao and give them an easy explanation of what was happening. You weren’t even sure. There were no labels for what you and Mingyu had. You wanted to say that you were with him, but were you? 

The sex was mind blowing. Mingyu was the best lover you had ever had in your entire life, but more than that, you would fall asleep in his arms every night and wake up to a kiss from him every morning. That bliss would quickly end if you brought up the question of who the two of you were and where he wanted this to go. Mingyu was a great liar and he was good at changing the subject.

You were just happy that the two of you had been happy. The tension in the penthouse had been low and there had been an air of “ignorance is bliss”—at least there was until the night before your flight. 

“Baby, does pasta aglio e olio sound good for dinner?” Mingyu’s voice carries through the penthouse from the kitchen as he purses his lips at what ingredients he has on hand. Hearing your muffled answer from down the hall, he smiles, shaking his head before heading towards you. “What did you say? You good with—” 

The words get caught in Mingyu’s throat, seeing your suitcase on your bed and your clothes in piles on the bed as you work to pack for the next day. He knew it was coming, but seeing it firsthand was like a stab to his gut. 

Glancing up, a sad but thoughtful look on your face, you look over Mingyu’s expression when he stops mid sentence. You had heard his question, but you were trying to get through a task that felt impossible. Packing meant you were actually leaving and it was breaking your heart, but Mingyu hadn’t asked you to stay. 

Staying would take work, but if he really wanted you to... if he asked you to do it, you had decided in your mind that you’d figure out how to do it. That was why you had asked him so many times what he wanted from the relationship, what he wanted from you, but every time he avoided it—that told you he wanted you to go home. 

“Dinner sounds good, Gyu. Are you okay?” Mingyu could hear the changes in your voice. You didn’t sound like the happy, carefree girl that he had just made love to the night before. The sound of your voice makes his chest feel tight and reminds him that he promised to drive you to the airport. How was he going to do that? How was he going to stand at that gate and watch you walk away? 

Mingyu’s mind quickly puts up defenses, doing what it has always done best—it builds walls. Hurt and pain are on the horizon, so a wall goes up and he’s reminded that this is for the best. He’s bad for you. You have an entire life back in China. You have a clinic and patients who rely on you. He’s selfish and pathetic. He’s dangerous. You stitched him up and watched him shatter. He’s going to get you killed or make you miserable. 

Shaking his head, Mingyu quickly follows it by scoffing and putting on a fake smirk. “Uh yeah, yeah. I’m good. Uh…” Gesturing towards your bags, Mingyu reaches up with his other hand to run his fingers through his hair, something you’ve realized he does when he’s stressed. “When’s your flight again?” He knew what time the flight was. He had looked at the booking hundreds of times but you were looking at him to say something and this was the only thing he knew to say. 

Stepping towards Mingyu, you watch as he takes a step backwards and it makes your heart rise towards your throat. You knew what he was doing. You have already done this. That tension was back and Mingyu was pushing you away again. He was afraid, but so were you. “It’s at 1, but you know that. Mingyu, talk to me.” 

Taking a sharp breath when you take a step towards him, Mingyu feels the door frame behind him as he looks away from you and laughs. The laugh is hollow and fake. You know that it’s supposed to be painful and it is. It hits right at your heart and makes you feel almost sick as you watch him turn from you and head into the hall, his words carrying back to you. “Just needed the time, Y/N. Finish packing so we don’t have to fuckin’ rush in the morning.” 

There it was. Mingyu was purposely trying to be cold and mean again. You had drunk your weight in wine last time; this time you followed him. He didn’t go back to the kitchen; instead, Mingyu turned into his bedroom. Staring at his back, you try to keep the tears at bay, but taking a deep breath, you quickly lose that fight when the first words leave your mouth, anger and sadness coming out in waves. 

“No! You don’t get to do this again, Mingyu! Why are you closing me out? Just…” Mingyu closes his eyes, hearing the sobs between your words. “Please? Why can’t you ask me to stay? Huh?” 

Tears threaten Mingyu’s eyes at that. He wanted to so badly but that wasn’t fair to you. His brain was repeating it all on loop for him. 

You’re selfish and pathetic. You’re dangerous. You’re going to get her killed or make her miserable. You’re selfish and pathetic. You’re dangerous. You’re going to get her killed or make her miserable. You’re selfish and pathetic. You’re dangerous. You’re going to get her killed or make her miserable…

The words in his mind are so loud that even as you move close to him and push at his back, inching him forward, Mingyu stands still. Your choked sobs are what bring him somewhat back to the present, only for his heart to shatter one more time. “Mingyu! Why can’t you ask me if I love you? Tell me that you love me!” 

It takes everything in Mingyu not to turn around, wrap you in his arms and apologize. He isn’t even sure if he wants to apologize for not doing what you’ve asked or for making you feel the way you do. He just doesn’t want you to feel like this anymore, but if you are in this much pain, maybe he can make you hate him. “I don’t love anyone, Y/N.”

Hearing Mingyu speak, you let out one more painful sob and punched at Mingyu’s back, your words weak. “I hate you so much. God, I—why did you make me love you?” Turning to face you and hearing what he wanted, Mingyu closes his fists tightly so he doesn’t reach out to grab on to you. The look on your face shatters him further, but he tries to cover it, even if his eyes give it away. You see the despair written in them, though his mouth stays shut firmly, his jaw is set tightly. 

Smacking your hands at his chest weakly, you try to hold on to your anger as you meet Mingyu’s eyes. Shaking your head, you finally lift your hand and start to bring your palm across his cheek when Mingyu finally moves, his fingers wrapping around your wrist gently to finally stop you. “Why can’t you just let me go? Go be happy... Be safe.”

You see the tears in Mingyu’s eyes as he speaks, his voice cracking. Rubbing his thumb in a circle on the inner side of your wrist, Mingyu watches you start to speak, but he shakes his head and sighs. You can hear how tired and desperate he is in his voice as he finally begs you, but not in the way you want. “Just... let me be alone? Let me lie and be miserable on my own. I can’t fuck up your life.” 

Shaking your head as you look up at Mingyu, you see him searching your eyes for understanding. You pull your hand free from his and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down so your lips can brush over his. Hissing into the light kiss, Mingyu whines your name while trying to keep his hands to himself as he tastes your tears on your lips. 

“I can’t let you do that, Mingyu. I love you.” Trying to make him understand, you kiss at the corner of Mingyu’s lips and once again on the fullness of his bottom lip as you whine into your words, fresh tears on your cheeks. “Please, I love you so much. Stop lying and tell me that you love me, baby. Ask me to stay.” 

Groaning in mental pain and at how tight his chest feels from hearing your words, Mingyu finally breaks. Hands grip at your waist before he lifts you and walks the few steps to the bed, laying you on your back so he can rest over you. The kiss before had been hesitant and guarded, but now Mingyu was almost bruising your lips as if he were willing you to hear how he was feeling through his passion. 

You lift your hand and run your fingers through Mingyu’s hair before walking them along his face to his cheek, feeling his skin damp under your touch. Whispering between kisses, you finally feel a sense of security in being back in Mingyu’s arms as he clings to you as if he’s never going to let you go. “I love you, Mingyu.” 

Mingyu’s sigh against your lips almost sounds like a half sob and a laugh. Resting his forehead against yours, he groans softly and keeps his eyes closed, taking in the moment before finally leaning back to look down at you as your fingers wipe away the tears from his cheek. “I love you so fucking much, baby. I hate myself for how much I love you.” 

Watching you shake your head, Mingyu can see you are going to argue, but he furrows his brows and kisses your lips gently before continuing. “I’m so fucking scared that I’ll lose you. I’m afraid that ‘cause I love you, that’s gonna get you hurt or worse, baby. I—I’d fuckin’ lose it.” 

There had been brief moments of honesty in your short relationship with Mingyu, but this was complete honesty and clarity. It made you think back to what had happened a week ago with the man who had lost his life and you wondered what had been said or done to make Mingyu do what he did… Your mind goes back to Mingyu’s bookshelf and when you had asked him, “Are you a tortured soul, Kim Mingyu?”  

Kim Mingyu was a complicated man, but you were beginning to understand him. 

“Gyu, baby… I’ll be okay. You can’t live your life thinking that disaster is waiting for you around every corner. Just... maybe live it with me? Be happy with me?” 

Taking a deep breath, Mingyu lets the gravity of your words settle on him before he brushes his lips over yours and then presses another kiss on your jaw before nodding. He had only committed to a few things in his life and none of them had ever been this terrifying, but you were worth it. 

Running your fingers through the back of Mingyu’s hair at the nape of his neck, you smile, feeling him nod in agreement. Taking a deep breath, you rest your head back against the bed and let out the breath, finally meeting Mingyu’s eyes once again as his fingers brush along the side of your neck. Smiling, Mingyu’s eyes move along your face before he finally settles back on your eyes.

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[buckets-and-trees]

Camaraderie

Characters/Pairings: raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Meeting up with the impossibly hot guy from the thirsty to fuck dating app didn't turn out to be a one-time thing... Hooking up with Bucky Barnes wasn't healthy, and you couldn't quit the habit, but he's so good at what he does, you can't resist the itch for him when it needs to be scratched.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship, explicit and rough smut, oral (male and female receiving)/deep throating, 69, vaginal fingering, some overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, humiliation, degradation (use of "slut"/"whore"), use of "baby" as a term of endearment, praise, general dirty talk, cum play/marking, taking photos, aftercare

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem, but can absolutely be read as a standalone and/or out of order.

Logistical Notes: My September/final offering for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo 23-24 using the ANTI-HERO and AFTERCARE prompts. I'm also submitting this for @steviebbboi's 200 Follower Celebration (kink prompts: oral sex, overstimulation, mild degradation, dialoge prompts bolded) and @mercurial-chuckles's SMUT-BER fest (prompt: marathon session).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You know you should never text Bucky Barnes.

Daytime you knows he’s horrible for you.

A relationship would go nowhere with him.

You know it. He knows it.

You’ve both been very clear this is only sex.

Dirty, late night hook ups.

The next morning, you’re always resolved that last night was the last time.

But you don’t delete his number.

He gives you space. So much space. There’s no pressure, and that’s one of the reasons you don’t close the door completely.

Sometimes he initiates a conversation, sometimes it’s you. It goes about four to six weeks like clockwork.

And always after midnight.

Tonight it’s you who sent up the bat signal.

YOU: Hey! It’s been a while! How’ve you been?

HIM: Not bad… How’s life for you?

YOU: Also not bad. I moved - pretty close to where you work, actually…

YOU: You working tonight?

HIM: Got a new job actually. Still night shift, but building security downtown.

YOU: Oh, that’s good though, right?

HIM: Better gig, better pay. Still bad hours, but our fun doesn’t have to end…

YOU: Oh?

HIM: Let me come over when I get off and I’ll get you off.

There’s literally nothing romantic about it.

But you’re aching for a good fuck.

And that’s why you agreed to let this man you’ve been hooking up with in the dead of night in a parking lot for the last eight months to show up for a bootycall between two and three am.

Because it was going to be so late, you told him where the spare key was, told him to let himself in, to come to your bed, and to wake you up when he got there.

The forbidden thrill of that arrangement gave you a bit of a second wind, but when you’d tucked yourself back in bed and done a bit of doom-scrolling, your eyes had eventually drooped and you’d dropped into sleep.

You stir a little bit as you are nudged onto your back, but it’s when Bucky starts in on aggressively groping your breasts, having immediately pushed up the silk camisole you put on, that you groan and come to.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness. Bucky's silhouette looms over you, his calloused hands cold against your skin as he roughly kneads your tender flesh. A shiver runs through you, desire pooling low in your belly.

"Missed these tits," he growls, voice husky with desire.

You arch into his touch, your body responding even as your mind struggles to catch up. Bucky wastes no time, his hot mouth latching onto a nipple. You gasp at the sensation, your hands instinctively flying to Bucky's hair. He bites down, just hard enough to make you whimper, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Fuck, Bucky," you moan, already breathless.

He releases your breast with a wet pop, moving to give the other the same treatment. He sucks hard, teeth grazing your sensitive peak, and you whimper. His other hand slides down your body, groping at your pussy over your silk shorts.

“You put these on special for me, yeah?” he probes, and you nod. “Such a whore, though,” he continues. So desperate to let me use you that you told a fucking stranger how to get into your house so he could ruin you.”

His words make you clench around nothing, desperate for him to ruin you just like you know he can. Bucky chuckles darkly when you mewl as he grinds the heel of his palm over your clothed clit.

"Such a needy little slut," he murmurs approvingly. "Bet you've been thinking about my cock all night."

"Took you long enough to get here," you whine.

He doesn't respond, just crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. His stubble scratches your chin, sending tingles down your spine. You clutch onto his bulky arms. His mouth is minty - either gum or mouthwash or mints popped at the last minute - but the rest of him just smells like sweat and faint musk. You doubt he even owns cologne. His body and the way he uses yours are why you don’t fight the itch when it flares up for nights like this.

Bucky breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck. He bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, surely leaving a mark. You gasp, arching into him.

"Gonna use you so good," he growls against your skin. "Gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk straight."

"God, yes," you moan, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Bucky hooks his fingers into the waistband of your silk shorts, yanking them down roughly along with your panties. The cool air hits your heated core and you shiver. Bucky's hand slides up your inner thigh, his calloused fingers teasing your sensitive skin.

"Already so wet for me," he growls approvingly as he cups your sex. "Such a dirty girl."

You whimper as he slides two thick fingers inside you without warning, pumping them slowly. His thumb circles your clit, building the pressure steadily. Your hips buck against his hand, chasing more friction.

"Please," you gasp, clutching at his muscular shoulders.

"Please what?" Bucky asks, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside you that makes you lose all shreds of dignity around him.

"Please give me your fat cock, Bucky!” you beg.

He chuckles again. “I bet you’re such a good girl in the day where everyone else can see you, but you crave this - you crave the depraved things I do to you in the dark. That’s why you’re so fast to beg for me already.”

You moan, and your body trembles with anticipation as Bucky's other hand roams over your chest, then grips your neck, rough and possessive.

He squeezes slightly, and you whimper. “Please,” you croak out.

He withdraws for a moment, but you bite back any sounds of protest as you hear the rustling of fabric, clang of a belt, and the pull of a zipper as he quickly sheds his clothes.

He sits back on his heels, looking down at you as you squirm, holding his thick, hard cock. You lick your lips at the sight, your pussy clenching in anticipation. Bucky strokes himself a few times with the hand that had been in your cunt moments before, spreading your wetness along his length.

"Don’t worry, baby," Bucky coos. "I'm gonna give you exactly what you need."

With his other hand, he grips your arm and pulls you down so you lay sideways across the mattress. You’ve only ever hooked up in his truck, so the freedom of space adds an element of mystery to what hell do with you, and you love it. He kneels with thighs on either side of your head, looming over you, and then he slaps your face with his cock.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and he hits you with it a couple more times. Bucky grins down at you wickedly, clearly enjoying your shock.

"Open up, slut," he grunts.

You obey eagerly, parting your lips as he guides his cock into your mouth. He doesn't ease into it, instead shoving himself deep until you gag around his length. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

Bucky holds your head in place with his thick thighs, his hips pistoning as he fucks your face mercilessly. The wet, obscene sounds of your gagging fill the room, mingling with Bucky's grunts of pleasure.

"That's it, take it all," he groans, pushing even deeper.

You relax your throat as best you can, letting him use your mouth with abandon. He leans forward, pushes your thighs apart, and buries his face in your cunt.

You moan around Bucky's cock as his tongue laps at your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He sucks hard on your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily. The dual sensations of his thick length stretching your throat and his skilled mouth on your pussy are overwhelming.

Bucky's stubble scrapes against your inner thighs as he devours you, his left hand gripping your hip to hold you in place. His flesh hand snakes up to squeeze and pinch your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your body. You whimper and writhe beneath him, struggling to focus on pleasuring his cock as he rapidly brings you to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" Bucky growls against your cunt, the vibrations making you shudder. "Want you to cum all over my face while I fuck that pretty little mouth."

You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss in pleasure. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he batters the back of your throat, but you don't pull away. You live for these moments when Bucky uses you roughly, treating you like you’re worthless, only a set of holes to be used, because you’re so tired of being good, of working hard, of over achieving, of living up to everyone’s expectations. The only thing he wants from you is your body, and it feels better than any guilty pleasure you’ve ever indulged in before.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly and forcefully. Your body convulses as waves of pleasure crash over you, muffled cries vibrating around Bucky's cock. He doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your oversensitive clit as you writhe beneath him.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls back, releasing your hips. He slides his cock from your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. Before you can catch your breath, he flips you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up.

"That's one," he growls. "Let's see how many more I can wring out of you before I'm done."

Without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he sets a punishing pace. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room in the dead of night.

"This what you've been craving, sweetheart?" he taunts, pulling his cock out and rubbing the head of his it through your folds. "My cock splitting you open?"

"Yes, yes, Bucky!” you sound like a cliché porn star, but you know he loves it, and you don’t care about letting loose and going mindless and dumb around him. He doesn’t expect anything more from you.

Without warning, he slams back into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You cry out, the stretch bordering on painful. Bucky doesn't give you time to adjust, he never does. He pursues a punishing pace, and now the headboard bangs against the wall with each powerful thrust.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Bucky grunts, his hips snapping against yours. "You always feel so good around me, baby. Such a perfect little cock sleeve."

His vulgar words send a thrill through you. You moan shamelessly, pushing back to meet his brutal thrusts. Bucky's metal hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, while his flesh hand snakes around to rub harsh circles on your clit. The dual stimulation quickly builds the pressure in your core.

"That's it, take it slut," Bucky growls, his hips pistoning relentlessly. "You love being used like this, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, beyond shame at this point. "God, yes, Bucky!"

He chuckles darkly, then suddenly pulls out. Before you can protest, he flips you onto your back and hooks your legs over his shoulders. He slides back in with a groan, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper.

"Wanna see your face when you cum on my cock," he pants, leaning down to lick a stripe lewdly up your face.

"Oh fuck, Bucky!" you cry out as he pounds into you relentlessly. The new angle has him hitting your g-spot with every thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bucky's eyes are dark with lust as he watches you come undone beneath him. One hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head swim. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he jackhammers into you.

"That's it, baby," he growls. "C'mon, don't you wanna be good for me?"

You nod frantically, unable to form words as the pressure builds inside you. Bucky's thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles that have you seeing stars.

"Cum for me," he commands. "Now."

As if your body is conditioned to obey him, your walls clench around him rhythmically, but Bucky doesn't slow his pace. He fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you're a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes from the intensity.

"That's two," Bucky growls, his hips still snapping against yours. "Think you can give me one more?"

You whimper as he squeezes your throat, starting to restrict your oxygen.

Your head swims as Bucky's hand tightens around your throat, his hips never slowing their relentless pace. The mix of pleasure and oxygen deprivation has you floating, barely aware of anything beyond the stretch of his cock inside you and the pressure of his fingers on your windpipe.

"Answer me," he growls, loosening his grip just enough for you to gasp out a response.

"Y-yes," you croak, your voice hoarse. "Please, Bucky..."

He grins wickedly, releasing your throat entirely. You gulp in air as he hooks his arms under your knees, folding you nearly in half as he drives even deeper. The new angle has you seeing stars, each thrust hitting spots inside you that make your toes curl.

“Let's see how much more you can take."

Bucky's pace becomes even more brutal, if possible. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, and you hope your neighbors are heavy sleepers. Every nerve of your body is on overdrive, overwrought.

You're trembling, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but Bucky shows no signs of slowing down. His cock pistons in and out of you relentlessly, the obscene wet sounds of your coupling filling the room as he keeps you folded in half. You're vaguely aware that you're babbling, a stream of "please" and "fuck" and "Bucky" falling from your lips.

His hot breath fans across your face as he looms over you, steel-blue eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Look at you," he growls, voice rough with exertion. "So fucking desperate for my cock. You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?"

You nod frantically, beyond words at this point. Bucky's hand comes down to rub harsh circles on your clit, and you cry out at the added stimulation. Your oversensitive body trembles, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"Cum for me again, baby," Bucky commands. "Show me how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

He pinches your clit harshly, and you scream into another orgasm. And still he fucks you as you shake and tremble beneath him. He’s too big and too strong for you to do anything but take it.

He clamps a hand down on your throat again, and your vision starts to blur at the edges as this filthy god moves like a machine above you. The lack of oxygen intensifies every sensation - his cock pounding into you relentlessly, his thumb still circling your oversensitive clit, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls out. Your legs fall clumsily to the bed, and Bucky moves so he’s sitting on your chest, straddling just below your breasts, and pinning your arms down to your sides as well. He viciously strokes his cock, grunting for a few more moments, before he groans and shoots his load over your face and chest, ribbons of hot, sticky cum hitting your skin.

You gasp and pant, struggling to catch your breath as Bucky's cum cools on your skin. Your body feels like jelly, utterly spent from the intensity of your multiple orgasms. Bucky sits back on his heels, still straddling your chest, admiring his handiwork.

"Fuck, you look good like this," he growls, voice husky with satisfaction. "All marked up and used."

You whimper, too exhausted to form words. Bucky chuckles darkly, running a finger through the mess on your face and pushing it between your lips. You suck obediently, tasting the salty bitterness of his release.

"Such a good little cumslut," he praises, his other hand trailing down to tweak one of your nipples, making you yip beneath him.

Bucky's weight lifts off you as he shifts to the side, his breathing also heavy.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your combined panting filling the dark room. Then Bucky chuckles low in his throat. "That was better than the truck."

You manage a weak laugh in response, still too overwhelmed to form words. Bucky reaches over and flicks on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. His eyes roam over your body, taking in the full mess he's made of you – the cum on your face and chest, the bruises already forming on your hips and thighs, the way your pussy is still clenching around nothing. He rolls off the bed and roots round in his discarded clothes, then stands once he’s found his phone.

"Hold still," Bucky commands, raising his phone. You hear the click of the camera as he captures your debauched state. "Something for me until next time."

You should protest, should demand he delete the photos. But a part of you thrills at the idea of Bucky having these reminders of you, of looking at them and getting hard thinking about using you again.

He disappears into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm washcloth. To your surprise, he gently cleans you up, wiping away the evidence of your encounter from your skin. It's an unexpectedly tender gesture from someone who was just fucking you senseless.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice hoarse.

Bucky just nods, tossing the washcloth aside when he's done. He starts gathering his clothes, pulling them on efficiently. You watch him silently, knowing there was no version of this where he stayed, and honestly you didn’t want him to. You wanted to sprawl freely in your bed and drift away into the few hours of blissful sleep you could steal before having to get up for work and didn’t want to deal with a morning after.

After hunching over and lacing up his boots, he stands, reaches for your hand and pulls you up and to the edge of the bed. “C’mon, get up,” he urges.

Too tired and bewildered to protest, you amble out of bed and follow as he tugs you along, leading you to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, grabs a towel and tosses it over the rod for you. He checks the water temperature, adjusts it slightly, then turns back to you.

He laughs, and you realize your face is broadcasting your confusion. “You’ll sleep better if you shower off the sex and sweat, baby.”

He steals a filthy kiss, licking slowly into your mouth, then ushers you into the shower. “See you next time.”

Next time. The words send a shiver through you, even as your body aches from the intensity of what he’s just done to you.

“I’ll lock the door behind me when I let myself out,” he says.

“Okay,” is all your exhausted mind and body can put together. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he echoes and smirks.

The hot water washes away the smell and grime of the debauchery, soothe your aching limbs, but they don’t wash away the memories of what he did, and you don’t want it to. They go into a collection of how he extracts pleasure from you, and those memories will tide you over for a while on some of the darker nights when you’re feeling particularly horny.

But he’s right.

You won't feel this way in the morning.

But there’ll be another next time, your middle of the night self will win out eventually, you’ll just put it off for a while. Besides, it’s due to be his turn to be he one to break first and put out the feelers for a bootycall.

You won’t say no.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[hkthatgffan]

Hey, Kiki-Kit. Your customers are waiting!

Well, this is a painful post to make given the respect and admiration I had for her, but a long overdue one because I'm not alone in this mess and I refuse to let another fan fall for it when I could've said something!

Back in February, I bought a commission from Kiki-Kit. You may know that artist as she was one of the best in the Gravity Falls fandom back in the day and the illustrator of Don't Dimension It in Lost Legends.

She'd been running emergency commissions at the start of the year and I got one from her for $40 USD.

I have the invoice and everything saved and also messages with Kiki of us talking about the comm and me paying her. I owe nothing on my end money wise! I paid in full.

She said later she'd have them finished by around the end of March but come late April, still no response. So, I messaged her about it. Nothing odd I thought. I get things can happen and if Kiki is busy, at most she'd reply telling me it'll be a while longer and all's good.

But I got nothing. I messaged her, emailed her on the commissions email she had and tweeted at her. NOTHING! Turns out there were other people, including some friends of mine who had not heard back either. Then in June, Kiki made an update post explaining the situation.

Naturally I felt bad and wished her the best. She said iirc, she'd have the remaining comms done by the end of the Summer but here we are at the end of October and still nothing. I messaged her too again and no response.

You know, it's one thing if there's a reason for no response for a few days but then another when it's been months and still nothing. Oh and btw, I very much remember Kiki on Twitter liking tweets (back when Twitter let you see liked tweets) while I was there messaging her for an update. Real sus if you ask me.

But okay, I shouldn't rush it. Everyone has reasons to take time and maybe Kiki is just very busy and can't get back. She went through a very rough and difficult experience and I can understand and respect that. I'm more than happy to wait. But how long is too long without an update? Maybe a bit longer I guess. Art takes time.

Well, IDK about you all, but I don't remember any other Gravity Falls fan artist taking oh, idk...FIVE YEARS TO FINISH A COMMISION AND STILL NOT RESPOND!!

FoxieSkullzArtz on Twitter made me aware she has been waiting since 2019 for Kiki to respond to a commission they paid her for.

2019!!

I'm not an artist, so forgive me if I'm wrong. But I don't think it should take any artist 5 years to make a commission and even if, at least communicate with the person who paid you about it so they're not left guessing.

Oh, and it gets worse. I got another person who let me know they've been waiting since 2020 for a comm and Kiki handled it far worse!

Oh yeah, she blocked them for asking about it!

And okay, even if we give Kiki-Kit the benefit of the doubt and assume she has reasons to not communicate with people and maybe even assume people messaging her are being mean about it, then why not refund them? Nice or bad, you were paid by them to do something but also have the power to deny it and refund their money. And yet, Kiki did not even do that. And even if we be super kind and assume everyone is lying, I'm still here.

I paid Kiki-Kit $40USD for a comm I thought I would get in late March and it's now late October and still nothing. And even if you don't wanna believe me cause you can't believe an artist like Kiki-Kit would do this and assume I'm after clout (which would be odd, given why would I take pleasure in calling out an artist I respected)...well, there's gonna be someone else who says this too. And people have been saying this for years and she still is getting away with it!

It's disappointing honestly. Kiki-Kit is a name so many in this fandom know and love. And I love her art too. She's a fan artist who got to be on Lost Legends. We all celebrated that in 2018 and still remember it. And I know how hard it may be to hear this, but it has to be said.

I do not like having to do this, but I have a platform that can get this message across further than others could and having been someone who lost money to her too, I know first hand what all these people have been through.

And before you say "Kiki was going through a rough time in her life. Why are you blaming her? Be patient and she'll get your stupid art done," read over everything again. I'm not saying Kiki-Kit needs to be making art 24/7 and fulfilling these comms. I'm not saying she isn't allowed to be offline and not finish things on time for reasons out of her control. What I'm saying is that she hasn't communicated properly with anyone here who paid her and has continued to accept more and more commissions from people despite not finishing ones she has backlogs of.

When an artist opens commissions, why do you think they have slots or only accept a few? Because they know they can get that many done in a certain time or know anymore will take longer. And even if it took longer, at least they give updates. I bought a commission for the interview with Alex Hirsch and got it both on time and with proper communication from the artist.

And even if you disagree with all this, be honest with yourself...is making someone wait since 2019 or 2020 for a comm and not responding to them really something still worth defending?

I'm not here to cancel anyone. I don't want Kiki-Kit's reputation to be that of an scammer who stole money from people. But she's painted herself that way to far too many people who have been warning about this for ages but no one either saw or listened to them.

I tried to be nice and messaged Kiki-Kit over and over for an update and she never responded. I had friends who she took money from who similarly have not heard anything back! If you know Kiki directly, tell her to reach out to these people and all the ones she has taken money from and not gotten back to and either refund them or commit to finishing their commissions. Please don't be rude or hostile either though, given despite it all, she is still a person like your or me who deserves a chance to make things right.

I wanna believe Kiki-Kit has just made some negligent mistakes and isn't the best with time management or communication. I mean, I'm not the best either. But I'm not asking people for money for something and then not getting back to them with it. I'm sorry to everyone who is learning about this who saw Kiki in a positive light and I'm sorry also to everyone like me who lost money to her.

I hope if nothing else, Kiki will respond and make whole everyone she has taken money from. If she really cares about this fandom that put her on a pedestal high enough that Alex Hirsch himself picked her to work on his book, she can respond to us and fulfill what we paid her to do.

I'm not asking for my commission to be done tomorrow...I just want an update. That's all. We all do! No more stalling, @kiki-kit. Please respond to us now!

Sincerely,

Every person who has paid you for a commission and has yet to hear back from you and every Gravity Falls fan who your work inspired and are now having to learn this about you!

[contact-guy]

lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual