#except for three or four people ..i miss them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slaybinnie · 2 months ago

Text

ALLEYWAY BOY

╰┈➤ sieun x fem!reader

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), violence, explicit language, no sexual protection.

about: while at your new school, one student catches your attention. when you help him during a fight you’re welcomed into his friend group. now in university, sieun begins to open up more, emotionally and physically.

⤷ WORD COUNT: 5k

The classroom was loud with chatter as everyone waited for the teacher to arrive for the first class of the day. You had transferred to Eunjang High School just a week ago and were still trying to find your place among the complex social hierarchy.

No one really stood out except one person. You noticed him immediately. A boy sitting alone by the window, his face expressionless as he stared outside. Something about him drew you to him. While everyone else moved in groups, laughing and talking loudly, he existed in his own bubble. You had occasionally seen him hang out with three other boys but most days he was to himself.

Oh. You’re looking at Sieun?” Whispered the girl sitting next to you, catching you staring. “He doesn't talk much. He transferred a little before you. Apparently he killed someone at his old school.”

You nodded, trying to look disinterested even as your eyes kept drifting back to him.

Your chance to actually meet him came a few days later. You had stayed late at school to complete a makeup test and were walking home alone when you heard yelling in the ally way. You should’ve taken that as a sign to turn around and take a different way home but curiosity got the better of you.

You looked around the corner and saw four guys surrounding someone. When they moved around, you caught a glimpse of Sieun, standing there with the same frown on his face.

“You think just because you took down Seongje means we’re scared of you?,” one of them was said.

Sieun's voice was quiet but firm. “No.”

What happened next was so fast you barely registered it. One moment one of the guys was lunging toward Sieun and the next moment he was on the ground clutching his stomach. The others rushed in but Sieun moved with a quickness, fighting back.

In less than a minute, all of them were on the ground. The first guy Sieun took down pulled out a small knife, and that's when you gasped involuntarily. Everyone froze. Sieun's eyes snapped to where you stood, and in that moment of distraction the knife-wielder lunged. Without thinking, you shouted, “Behind you!”

Sieun dodged it just in time, the blade missing his face by inches. He grabbed the guys wrist and twisted until the knife fell to the ground.

All four boys fled and Sieun turned to you. You expected him to show anger for you interfering but his face didn’t show anything actually.

“You should go home,” he said finally. “It's not safe here.”

“You're bleeding,” you pointed out, noticing a cut on his cheek.

He touched it softly. “It's nothing.”

Instead of leaving, you dug into your bag and pulled out a packet of tissues and a small first-aid kit your mother had insisted you carry. “Let me help.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you. Then, to your surprise, he gave a single nod and leaned against the wall, allowing you to dab at the cut with a wipe.

“Why did you warn me?” he asked suddenly. “You don't even know me.”

You focused on cleaning the cut, avoiding his intense gaze. “Should I have let him stab you instead?”

He exhaled a breath. “Most people would have run away.”

“Well I didn’t want to see a fellow Eunjang student hurt,” you replied with a smile on your face.

“Yo, Sieun!” a voice called. Three boys approached, the one with a basketball jersey frowning when he saw the signs of a fight. “What happened?”

“Nothing important,” Sieun replied, straightening up.

The basketball jersey boy's eyes shifted to you, suspicious. “Who's this?”

“A classmate,” Sieun said before you could answer. “She helped.”

The introduction was short and sweet. You learned that Baku was the one with the jersey on. Junate and Gotak were the other two boys. These were the boys you had seen Sieun hang out with every now and then.

From this moment you were cautiously accepted into their friend circle. Sieun rarely spoke to you directly at first but sometimes you would catch him watching you when he thought you weren't looking.

It took months to break his walls down with you. You had slowly earned his trust and got to learn about the story behind his fighting skills and the way he kept everyone at a distance. You learned about his troubled past, his friend in the hospital, and got to know his personality more.

By the start of your senior year everything was starting to look up. Suho, Sieuns hospital friend, had woken up, Eungjang high was no longer bothered by the union and your friendship with Sieun developed into something more.

One year later and you’re all now in University. The campus coffee shop was loud with voices and machines as students rushed to grab their caffeine before afternoon classes. You sat at a corner table, textbooks spread across the surface as you tried to make sense of your class assignment.

University life had been treating you well, balancing classes with part-time work and a social life was challenging, but manageable.

Sieun hadn't changed much since high school. His face still carried that same deadpan expression, sharp eyes that softened only for you, and a quietness that intimidated most people. What did change was your goals for him and you.

Since starting university, you'd made it your mission to get more reactions out of him. It had become something of a game between you and him trying to maintain his composure while you tried your best to break it.

Sieun walked in the coffee shop, his dark hair slightly messy from the breeze outside. He looked so good. Despite being your boyfriend for almost six months now, the sight of him still made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you. “Sorry I'm late. The professor wanted to discuss my project”

You smiled, pushing your untouched ice tea toward him. “No problem. How did it go?”

“Better than expected.” He reached for the drink, his fingers brushing against yours. Even after months of dating, these small touches still sent electricity through your body. “He thinks I might be able to submit it to receive a full ride scholarship.”

“That's amazing” Your genuine excitement made him bow his head slightly, still unused to praise despite his talents.

Sieun took a sip from your drink, using the same straw you had been using. When he realized what he'd done, a faint blush crept across his cheeks. He quickly set the drink down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at your face.

You couldn't help but laugh. For someone who had faced the craziest situations in high school, it was interesting how flustered he could get over such small intimacies.

“Sieun…” you started, taking another sip from the same straw, “ you know sharing drinks is what couples do.”

His blush deepened. “I know that.”

“Do you?” You leaned forward, resting your chin on your palm. “Because sometimes I wonder if you remember we're dating.”

Sieun's eyes met yours, embarrassment written all over his face. “Of course I remember we’re dating.”

“Then why do you still get so flustered when I do this?” You reached across the table and gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. As expected, he stiffened slightly before relaxing into your touch.

“I'm not flustered,” he insisted, though the color in his cheeks said otherwise.

You laughed softly. “Sure baby.”

Honestly, you found his shy reactions adorable. Sieun had always been reserved, even after you'd started dating. Breaking through his walls had been a slow process but every small victory felt significant. You loved to see him gradually allow himself to be vulnerable with you.

“How's your assignment going?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“It’s going horribly,” you admitted dramatically. “This subject makes no sense to me.”

Sieun scooted his chair around to sit beside you, his shoulder pressing against yours as he looked at your textbook. “Let me see.”

As he began explaining concepts you found yourself watching the movement of his lips more than listening to his words. When he paused to see if you were following, you impulsively leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He froze mid-sentence, eyes widening. “What was that for?” he asked, voice slightly cracking.

"I just wanted to kiss you,” you replied with a shrug. “Is that okay?”

Sieun swallowed hard. “Yeah... it's okay.”

You smiled and turned back to the textbook, acting as if nothing had happened, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. You had to have a nice balance with Sieun, pushing just enough to help him become comfortable with affection without overwhelming him.

For the next hour, you studied together, gradually shifting closer until your thighs touched under the table. Every so often, you would find excuses to touch him. You’d reach across to point at something in the book and let your arm rest against his. Each touch left him momentarily flustered before he composed himself again.

“We should get going,” he said, closing his textbooks and glancing at his watch. “We're supposed to meet the others for lunch in twenty minutes.”

You groaned, remembering the lunch plan. “Do we have to? I was hoping to have you to myself today.”

A small smile played on his lips. “They'll never let us hear the end of it if we bail.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, gathering your books. “But you owe me.”

“Owe you what?” he asked, helping you pack up.

You leaned in close, your lips nearly brushing his ear. “Time. Just us. No interruptions.”

The blush returned full force, spreading from his neck to his ears, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. There was something addictive about making Sieun flustered.

As you walked across campus to meet your friends, your hands occasionally brushed until Sieun finally took the initiative and laced his fingers with yours. It was a small gesture, but knowing how much he disliked public displays of affection, it meant everything to you.

The campus restaurant was crowded when you arrived, but you spotted your friends immediately. Baku was gesturing wildly, telling some story that had Juntae rolling his eyes. Suho noticed you first, waving you guys over.

“Finally!” Baku exclaimed as you sat down. “We thought you two might have gotten distracted.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“We were studying,” Sieun said simply. “Unlike some people.”

Gotak laughed. “He's got you there, Baku. When's the last time you stepped foot in the library?”

“Libraries are for people who have to read to learn,” Baku said with a big grin, tapping his forehead. “Me? I just stand near smart stuff and it jumps into my brain!”

“Is that why you're failing statistics?” Juntae asked dryly making the whole table laugh,

As your friends fell into their usual banter you noticed how clam Sieun was. This friend group was good for him. Everything felt right.

“How's the new apartment?” Suho asked Sieun between bites of his lunch.

“It's alright,” Sieun replied with his typical shortness.

You rolled your eyes. “What he means is that it's great but he's still living out of boxes because he refuses to properly unpack.”

“I have a system,” Sieun defended himself.

Sieun had moved into his own place just a month ago, leaving the dormitories for a small studio apartment off-campus. You had helped him move, shocked by how few items he actually owned.

“You should see it,” you told the others. “The only decoration he has is a plant I bought him, which is somehow still alive.”

“It's just a place to sleep,” Sieun shrugged. “I don't need much.”

Baku leaned forward. “So, Y/n, how often do you stay over at this minimalist paradise?”

You kicked him under the table while Sieun suddenly became very interested in his food.

“None of your business, Humin,” you replied sassy.

The truth was, while you had been to Sieun's apartment many times, your relationship had progressed slowly in physical terms. Sieun wasn't one to rush, and you respected his pace. You were fine as long as he was by your side.

As everyone prepared to leave for afternoon classes, Suho pulled you aside briefly.

“He seems good,” he said quietly, nodding toward Sieun who was arguing with Baku about something. “More settled.”

You smiled, watching your boyfriend's rare animated expressions. “I think he is. You being here is definitely a big reason why”

“It’s not just me. It's because of you too,” Suho continued. “He was always so... contained back then. Even with me. You've given him something the rest of us couldn't.”

“What's that?”

“Permission to be a normal guy,” Suho said simply. “To care about something besides survival.”

Before you could respond, the others joined you, and the moment passed. But Suho's words stayed with you as you and Sieun split from the group to head to your next classes.

“I have to finish a lab report tonight,” Sieun said as you guys reached his next class. “But maybe after…”

“After?”

He met your eyes, something determined in his gaze. “Maybe you could come over. We could watch that movie you've been talking about.”

You smiled, knowing the invitation was not just to watch a movie, but to spend time together in his personal bubble. “I'd like that.”

For a moment, he stood there, seeming to debate something. He looked around quickly to ensure no one was watching and leaned in to kiss you briefly. Before you could react, he had already pulled away, a flush spreading across his cheekbones.

“I'll text you when I'm done,” he said rushed, then turned and walked into the building, leaving you standing there with a surprised smile.

It was 8:30 when you got the text from Sieun, "Lab done. Come over if you still want to.”

Pf, of course you still want to. You quickly washed up and headed over to his apartment, giving his door a soft knock. The door opened almost immediately, revealing Sieun in a simple black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was damp from a recent shower. He looked so handsome.

“Hi,” you said, suddenly feeling a little nervous without knowing why.

“Come in,” he replied, stepping aside to let you enter.

The apartment was indeed minimalist, just as you'd described to your friends. A bed in one corner, a small seating area with a couch and coffee table, a tv stand with a tv, a cute small kitchen, and a desk with a laptop, the plant you gave him, and neatly arranged textbooks on it.

But something was a little different. You noticed immediately that he had finally unpacked some of the boxes. A bookshelf now held his small collection of books and a few framed photos, including you in them. One of the two photos with you in them was from the end-of-year festival in high school.

“You unpacked,” you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.

Sieun shrugged, but you could tell he was pleased that you'd noticed. “Had some time after finishing the lab report.”

You moved to examine the photos more closely. “I can't believe you kept this,” you said, picking up the festival photo.

“It was a good day,” he said simply, coming to stand beside you.

You remembered it well. A day full of fun. The day had ended with him awkwardly asking if you wanted to “maybe go out sometime,” his confidence completely absent as he stumbled over the words.

Setting the photo down, you turned to face him. “I can put on the movie,” you said picking up his remote and turning on the TV, “but I'm also fine with just talking if you're tired.”

“I’m good with the movie,” he replied, “I made food. Nothing fancy, just ramen.”

“Fancy ramen or instant?” you asked with a smile.

“Somewhere in between.” He gestured to two bowls on the coffee table, steam still rising from them. You noticed he'd added eggs, green onions, and a few other ingredients to elevate the simple dish.

After putting the movie on you settled onto the small couch suddenly aware of how intimate the space felt. You had been here before, but something about tonight felt different. Sieun joined you on the couch, sitting close enough that your shoulders touched.

For the first twenty minutes, you both ate and watched in comfortable silence but as the main characters in the film shared their first kiss, you became hyperaware of Sieun sitting beside you.

Setting your empty bowl aside, you casually leaned into him. After a brief moment of tension, he lifted his arm and placed it around your shoulders, allowing you to rest against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, slightly faster than normal.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head to look up at him.

Instead of answering, he surprised you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle but lingered longer than his usual hesitant kisses. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with an emotion you rarely saw him display.

“More than okay,” he finally answered, voice slightly rough.

You reached up to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertips. He remained perfectly still under your touch, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“I've been thinking,” you said softly, “about us.”

“What about us?” His voice was quiet.

“About how far we've come. From that day in the alley to here.” You continued tracing patterns on his skin, moving to his neck where you could feel his pulse jumping beneath your touch. “You used to flinch when I got too close.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I wasn't used to it.”

“And now?” you asked.

Instead of answering with words, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hand moving to the small of your back to pull you closer. The movie continued playing but it was completely forgotten as you lost yourself with Sieun's lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart you couldn't help but smile at the cute look on his face.

“I'm still not used to it,” he admitted quietly. “But in a different way now.”

“Explain,” you encouraged, your hand now resting on his chest.

Sieun took a moment to gather his thoughts, “Before, it was unfamiliar. A little uncomfortable. Now it's unfamiliar because it feels too good. Like I don't deserve it.”

Your heart ached at his words. Despite all your time together, parts of his past still haunted him.

“You deserve every good thing, Sieun,” you said firmly, taking his face in both hands so he couldn't look away. “Every single one.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I'm trying to believe that.”

“Let me help you believe,” you whispered, and kissed him again.

The kiss deepened quickly, a year of careful restraint giving way to something more urgent. Sieun's arms tightened around you, pulling you practically onto his lap as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His usual composure was slipping, and you reveled in it, your hands sliding under his t-shirt to touch the warm skin beneath. You felt his muscles tense at the contact, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he made a low sound in the back of his throat that sent heat flooding through your body.

“Sieun,” you breathed, needing to hear his response, to know he wanted this as much as you did.

“I'm here,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back slightly to meet your gaze. “I'm always here with you.”

Something about those simple words, the sincerity behind them, made your heart swell. This was Sieun. He was a man of few words but had deep feelings. He expressed himself through actions rather than speech. You loved him.

Slowly you moved to straddle his lap, careful to make sure he was comfortable with your weight on him. Your eyes never left him to ensure this was okay. His hands settled on your waist, his breathing was noticeably uneven now.

“Is this too much?” you asked, knowing his boundaries had always been important to respect.

He shook his head, but still looked slightly overwhelmed. “Just give me a moment.”

You stayed still, watching the emotions play across his face. His hands tightened on your waist, then relaxed again.

“I've wanted this,” he admitted softly, the confession clearly difficult for him. “For a long time.”

“Me too,” you whispered, leaning forward to press your forehead against his again. “We can go as slow as you need.”

A small smile pulled at his lips. “We've been going slow for years.”

The observation, so accurate and yet so unexpected coming from him, made you laugh. “True. But that's okay.”

His smile widened slightly, and in that moment, he looked younger, lighter, and unburdened by the weight he always carried. You vowed to yourself to make him smile like that more often.

Sieun's hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until your chests pressed together. “Maybe,” he said, voice low, “we could go a little faster now.”

Your breath caught at his words. “I'd like that.”

Siuen grabbed your hand and dragged you towards his bed. He gently pushed you down on the bed and followed you down. He captured your lips once again and you sighed into the kiss. Your hands found their way under his shirt and traced his stomach. Sieun shivered at your touch.

You tugged at the hem of his shirt and he understood, pulling his shirt over his head. The sight of him shirtless wasn't new to you. You had seen him like this before but the context was different now. It was more intimate. Your eyes traced his chest, faint scars littered all around, reminders from his past.

Sieun watched you look at his chest, heat rising to his cheeks. “Your turn,” he said softly, his fingers playing with the edge of your top.

You sat up, allowing him to remove your shirt. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you in your bra. His hand came up to trace your face all the way down to the curve of your cup. His hand found the clasp of your bra and hesitated for just a moment until you nodded. He unfastened your bra, the straps sliding down your arms.

Your chest was bare in front of him and your nipples hardened when the cool air touched them. Sieun reached to touch your breast, gently gliding his hand against them. You couldn't help but shiver at the contact, your body responding to his exploring hands.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered.

You reached up to touch his face, drawing him back to your lips. The kiss deepened as his hand continued to caress your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple and pulling a soft moan from your throat. The sound seemed to embolden him, his movements becoming more confident.

Sieun broke the kiss and moved his head down towards your left breast. He looked up at you, making eye contact before kissing your nipple then sucking it into his mouth.

The pleasure that crashed through you was immediate and intense. Your back arched slightly, pressing your breast further into his mouth. Sieun's free hand moved to your other breast, thumbing over your nipple as his tongue swirled around your other nipple.

“Sieun,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his dark hair, holding him to you.

His mouth moved to your right breast, giving it the same attention while his hand replaced his mouth on the left.

Sieun pulled back and thumbed at your nipples to make up for his mouth moving away. He was breathing hard and his eyes were full of lust. Sieun kissed your nipples one more time before his hands moved to your waist, his fingers tracing the waistband of your pants.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed, lifting your hips to help as he carefully slid your pants down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear.

Sieun took a moment to look at you, his eyes traveling over your body with such intensity that you could almost feel it like a physical touch.

“Your turn,” you said with a small smile, copying his earlier words.

He removed his sweatpants, leaving both of you in just your underwear. The sight of him nearly took your breath away. His erection was evident and you could see a tiny bit of pre-cum seeping through his boxers.

“Sieun.”

“Hm?”

“I want your fingers so bad.” You said while grabbing his hand and placing it to where you needed him the most.

Sieun leaned in to kiss you. His hand slipped beneath your underwear and you gasped against his mouth as his fingers found you wet and waiting.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his movements slow and careful.

“More than okay,” you assured him while you guided his hand to your core.

Sieun was a quick learner. He watched your reactions carefully, noting what made your breath hitch, what made you moan. When he finally found your clit a moan was ripped out of you. “Fuck Sieun! Right there! Keep going.”

Sieun nodded, feeling emboldened by your response he grew more confident in his movements. He rubbed your swollen clit a bit faster and harder, making you squirm more and more. He lowered his head to your breast, lips closing around your nipple as his fingers worked between your legs. The dual sensation had you moaning his name, your hands tangling in his hair.

Siuen pulled off your breast and moved his fingers down towards your hole, circling your entrance. “Tell me what feels good,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving your face as he kept circling your entrance.

“Everything you're doing,” you breathed, gasping when he slowly slid a finger inside you. “Oh Sieun…”

He added another finger, stretching you gently as his thumb continued to work your sensitive bud. The dual sensation had you moaning beneath him, your hands clutching his shoulder.

“Sieun. Baby,” you gasped, “I'm close.”

“I got you,” he murmured against your skin. The tenderness in his voice combined with the movement of his fingers sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered as waves of pleasure washed over you with Sieun's name spelling out your lips.

As you came down from your high, you opened your eyes to find him watching you with a mix of awe and satisfaction. “Did I do good?”

You smiled lazily up at him, getting cuteness aggression from him wanting approval. “Of course you did, baby.”

You then reached for him, wanting to bring him the same pleasure he'd given you. Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his cock. Sieun's breath hitched, his eyes closing briefly at your touch.

“You’re so hard, baby. Did you get turned on making me feel good?”

Sieun just nodded.

You smirked, and guided him onto his back. You removed his boxers then straddled his thighs before stroking him again. His eyes never left yours as you stroked him, learning what he liked by the subtle changes in his expression, the way his breath caught, the tension in his muscles.

You pulled your hand away making Sieun whine. He quickly shut up when you leaned down and kissed his tip. You licked from his tip to his base, then backwards, teasing him before finally taking him in your mouth fully.

Sieun's head fell back against the pillow, a low groan escaping his throat. His hands hesitantly moved to your hair, not pushing or guiding, just connecting with you as you sucked him off. The sounds of soft gasps and quiet moans encouraged you to continue, taking him deeper.

“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “That feels...ah. So good.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, the vibration making him tense beneath you. His breathing grew more erratic as you continued. It was intoxicating to see him like this.

After a few minutes, his hand tightened slightly in your hair. “Wait,” he gasped. “I'm close. I’m going to-”

You pulled back, wiping your mouth as you looked up at him. “Sorry. I want you to cum inside of me.”

Sieun’s eyes widened but he nodded, complying with anything you said. You pulled him in a heated kiss. “I’m going to ride you.. With no condom, okay?” You whispered against his lips.

“Okay.” Sieun agreed, straightening himself against the headboard.

You positioned yourself above him and lowered yourself slowly until you were stuffed with his cock. Both of you gasped at the sensation. You stayed still for a moment to adjust. Sieun's hands gripped your hips, his eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he asked, always concerned for your comfort even in his own pleasure.

“Perfect. You?”

“Good but, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You giggled before moving your hips up a little, careful not to pull off of him, then slammed back down his cock. The both of you moaned, Sieun moving his head into the crook of your neck.

You again started to slowly go up and down, Sieun was still hiding his face on your neck. He was biting his lips, trying to keep himself from moaning too loud. You were so tight around him, he thought he was going to die as you continued your motion on his cock.

You started to get a bit winded and Sieun noticed. Sieun surprisingly rolled you guys over and took charge, pushing into you softly. You both were close, desperation evident from the way you were whining and on the way he was sloppily rubbing your clit while thrusting.

“Sieun, I’m close. Please. Let’s cum together.”

Sieun nodded and sped up his hips, his thrusts becoming more desperate as he chased both your pleasure and his own. His fingers worked against your clit with renewed determination, his movements becoming more confident with each of your soft moans.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained. “I can't hold on much longer.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “Then don't,” you said, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Let go, baby.”

His rhythm faltered as he drove into you one last time, burying himself deep. You felt him pulse inside you as he came, the sensation triggering your own release. Your walls clenched around him as waves of pleasure washed over you both. Sieun's mouth found yours in a messy, passionate kiss that swallowed your cries of pleasure.

For a moment, you stayed locked together, hearts racing, bodies trembling with aftershocks. Sieun's forehead rested against yours, his breathing gradually slowing as he came down from his high. When he finally opened his eyes, they were filled with such tenderness that it made your heart ache.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

You smiled, still feeling the pleasant hum of satisfaction throughout your body. “More than okay.”

He made and a move to pull out of you but you wrapped your legs tighter around him. “No stay.”

Sieun laughed a little, “Y/n I need to clean you up. My cum is still inside you.”

You pouted, “I don’t care.”

“You’ll care when we’re getting plan b from the pharmacy,” Sieun joked.

You punched his arm jokingly while laughing, “Stop. I’m on the pill anyways.”

Sieun visibly relaxed at your words, a small smile playing on his lips. “Still I need to clean us up.”

He carefully pulled out of you and rolled you to face him. His arm draped over your waist, keeping you close as his dark eyes studied your face.

“I love you.” He said it so quietly you almost missed it.

Your heart skipped a beat. Those three words. He'd never said them before even though you’d known how he felt for a long time. Sieun showed his feelings through actions, not words, but hearing it spoken aloud made tears well in your eyes.

You tilted your head up to look at him. “I love you too. So much.” You pressed a sweet kiss to his chin “And I am so happy.”

You laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, occasionally stopping to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay the night?” he asked after a while, his voice hopeful.

“Obviously.” You replied, content.

────୨ৎ────

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to message me and request stuff! I havent written in forever but WHC woke me up from the dead. <3

#weak hero class x reader #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class 2 #yeon sieun #sieun #sieun x reader #yeon sieun x reader #whc #whc1 #whc2 #whc1 x reader #whc2 x reader #whc x reader #whc smut #weak hero class smut #kdrama imagines #kdrama smut #whc imagines #weak hero class

1K notes · View notes

midniqhtt · 2 months ago

Text

james buchanan ‘bucky’ barnes

masterlist • marvel • 07/02/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs six II one I two I three I four I five

gif credit - @/newavengers

here are some bucky barnes stories i’ve read, loved, and reblogged. all the admiration for the writers who share their talent so generously. please be sure to read the warnings on each fic. and if you enjoy them, let the author know by a comment, reblog, or both! ♡

𑣲 friendly banter I @wwinterwitch

sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

𑣲 friendly introductions I @/wwinterwitch

bucky unexpectedly shows up at your apartment, and he's brought a few people with him

𑣲 a place for yelena I @eufezco

after disappearing for weeks, consumed by her own darkness, yelena shows up in your house unexpectedly and decides to reach out to you and bucky, her best friends, just to find out that you're pregnant and you wanted her in your baby's life.

𑣲 in the middle I @ama3003

Being caught in the middle is always hard.

𑣲 everything’s just perfect I @/ama3003

You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.

𑣲 thunderbolts? I @ang3ltine

An unexpected surprise awaits you when Bucky shows up at your house with a group of strangers

𑣲 alone in this shitty world I @starktonyx

After Yelena’s sudden outburst, the group scatters around the streets of New York. And, as if this wasn’t already the weirdest day of your life, you find yourself reaching to comfort the last person you ever thought you'd feel sorry for, John Walker. And Bucky is as confused as you are.

𑣲 would you still love me if i was a worm? I @/starktonyx

A stupid little question turns into a makeout session. Your teammates hate to see it, except for one.

𑣲 small circles I @aquaticmercy

Bucky Barnes is still getting used to modern dating… and hates that you have to work with your exes.

𑣲 interstate love song I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky tells the team he saw his Hydra days in The Void. You are the only one who knows him well enough to know he is lying.

𑣲 meet me halfway I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky has to recruit the love of his life to save New York from the void. He doesn't know if she wants to ever see him again, though.

𑣲 patron saints of nightmares I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky needs to go on a mission, so he asks the rest of the team to take care of his girl.

𑣲 elevator, baby! I @/aquaticmercy

The team thinks Bucky has a crush on the tower’s interior designer. They don’t know that they’re already married.

𑣲 cycle I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky gets jealous of your friendship with Bob… until he realises he has nothing to worry about

𑣲 get around I @/aquaticmercy

After going on a date with Bucky, Sarah realises they're better off as friends. So she does the next best thing: sets him up with you, the Wilsons’ childhood best friend.

𑣲 milestones I @/aquacticmercy

Bucky feels guilty for missing three months of his baby’s life while on a mission.

𑣲 not exactly a secret I @navybrat817

You and Bucky are really good teammates... and more.

𑣲 don’t look or touch I @/navybrat817

Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

𑣲 hit to the head I @/navybrat817

Bucky doesn't think he needs medical attention after a hit to the head, but he's glad he met you.

𑣲 for better or for worse I @helaintoloki

You want a divorce, but Bucky needs your help for one last mission. Luckily, marriage is all about compromise

𑣲 grumpy!bucky I @lovebugism

the one where bucky wants to kiss you but the rest of the thunderbolts won't seem to let him

𑣲 in the suit?! I @delicatebarness

𑣲 you or nothing I @feathersandferns

when the Thunderbolts enter the void, Bucky goes missing. You take it upon yourself to find him, venturing into his deepest pockets of his shame.

𑣲 midnight confessions I @jobean12-blog

A late night gives you the opportunity to flirt with Bucky and the next night he comes right back for more.

𑣲 drawing the line I @fireinmoonshot

Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts.

𑣲 super soldier domesticated I @writingcroissant

Domestic scenes with Bucky Barnes, because Bucky Barnes deserves to be happy.

𑣲 the one that got away pt2 I @writing-for-marvel

When Bucky enters the void, he expects his memories as The Winter Soldier to haunt him, or perhaps even death itself, instead, he finds himself face to face with you the night you broke up.

𑣲 congressman!bucky I @bruisedboys

𑣲 dye me a lie I @byhuenii

You’re just a girl. an Avenger with a mind-reading gift, hair that changes when the heart breaks too loudly, and feelings for Bucky Barnes that you’ve done everything to bury. But the silence between you is loud. Misread glances, inside jokes that don’t feel like yours, and insane jealousy. He doesn't know how to love you. You’re not sure how to stop.

𑣲 a kiss to change everything I @marvelwitchergilmore

When Bucky becomes the Winter Soldier again, he follows you around. Only you. Funny thing is, you and Bucky aren't exactly friends. So why is the Winter Soldier protecting you?

𑣲 winters child I @/marvelwitchergilmore

You and your daughter live across the hall from Bucky. However, one night when your daughter won't settle, you turn to him for help.

𑣲 a thousand times before I @marvelstoriesepic

Bucky travels to an alternate universe for the sake of a mission. But he doesn’t expect to come face to face with a version of you that loves him, completely and openly. Back in his own world, he is left with a truth he can’t keep to himself anymore.

𑣲 a soldiers solace pt2 I @daystarpoet

Bucky has kept his marriage secret for three years now. He always intended to keep it that way. That was until a mission went sideways, and he found himself having to resort to the one person he swore to protect.

𑣲 i thought we were already dating I @danysdaughter

you thought you were spiraling over a situationship—meanwhile, bucky barnes had been acting like your very committed, very oblivious boyfriend the entire time. one public meltdown, a congressional office full of witnesses, and a very intense kiss later… you're officially his girl (and he never doubted it).

𑣲 wanna be yours I @daddyjackfrost

Bucky’s been in love with you for longer than he’ll admit. But when a moment of clarity after a misunderstanding on his part cracks the tension between you wide open, he finally gets to show you just how much.

𑣲 if we talked I @pellucid-constellations

After overhearing some choice words between Bucky and his best friend, you make the difficult decision to avoid him. For a week. Bucky loses his mind in the process.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fic recs #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #winter soldier #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts

1K notes · View notes

prkhaven · 11 months ago

Text

FEELS LIKE SUMMER -l.sh, p.js, s.jy, p.sh-

Meant to be a peaceful summer day somehow leads to an eventful afternoon

pairing— enhypen!hyung line x fem!reader

genre: smut minors do not interact, summer au, p without any plot

wc: 7.1k

warnings: hyung line is very horny, all of them (besides jake) are mean, profanity, magically they are the only people at the beach, so unrealistic

smut warnings: filthy, fivesome, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap the willies), so much cum, creampies, p in v, degradation, praising, slut shaming, multiple rounds, exhibition, agoraphilia, dumbification, squirting, slight manhandling, cum eating, dom!enhypen hyung line, oral (m+f rec.), usage of nicknames(good girl, angel), overstimulation, throat fucking, pussy slapping

Three out of the four yelled in the car in pure excitement, the ocean smell filling the car through the open windows as the breeze swept through their sweaty bodies. Their music blaring as they past through, none of them caring for the looks thrown their way from their ruckus.

“I’ve been waiting all year this, it’s finally summer!” Jake yelled as he slapped his knees repeatedly in anticipation, “How much longer till we get there Hee?” He asked the one driving, who took a look to the GPS

“10 more minutes till we’re experiencing paradise beach boys”

This beach was said to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the costal area that barely anyone came to. It was too far out for most so no one never really bothered going with the exception of a few but in their minds it was jokes on the people who missed out on this beach.

The friend group was more than ready to do the long drive just to experience the wonders of the beach for themselves, desperate to make the most out of their summer.

“Can’t wait to get wet” Sunghoon murmured under his breath, feeling the sweat trickling off his body but Jake shoved him with a disgusted face, “Not like that you nasty freak” Sunghoon spat when he realized how Jake interpreted his words

Jake broke out into a fit of giggles before shifting to the middle seat, squeezing his arms in the middle compartment between the driver and passenger seat. “Jay! I can’t believe you’re sleeping through this awesome trip to the beach. Wake up!” Jake forcefully woke his said friend up from his slumber

“Shut up Jake” Was all Jay said not even opening his eyes as he nestled his head deeper into the head rest

“Don’t stress over it too much Jake. Jay needs his beauty sleep in order to drive back”

Jay teared his eyes opened and whipped his head, staring at Heeseung in disbelief “When did we ever establish that I was making the drive back?” Jay asked and Heeseung cheekily smiled

“Uh about 5 seconds ago”

Heeseung noticed in the mirror how Jay almost launched himself at him and he held out a finger and shook it, letting out an ‘Uh uh’. “Can’t hit me I’m the driver” Jay huffed at his friend’s response, rolling his eyes as he folded his arms in annoyance

“I’m gonna take you down the moment we get to the beach Hee”

Heeseung jokingly shivered in fear but laughed out loud hearing how Jake and Sunghoon erupted in a loud laughter.

“You guys are so annoying” Jay frowned and Sunghoon who sat behind him in the back seat snuck his hand and poked Jay’s cheek causing him jerk away and attempt to grab Sunghoon’s hand

Sunghoon laughed as Jay turned around to glare at him. “I’ll take you down too Sunghoon”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try” Sunghoon raised his eyebrow, instigating his friend but they were interrupted when the car was parked

“And we’re here!” Heeseung announced and Jake was the first one to shoot out of the car and run towards the beach with a scream

The beach was in fact very true to its reputation, not seeing a single soul there other than them and he was in awe by how beautiful the beach was.

The sand felt like fresh soft snow, the clear water allowing to see the ocean floor. This beach was utterly perfect, Jake felt an arm around his shoulder and he looked to see Heeseung who closed his eyes and sharply inhaled.

“Now it feels like summer”

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Jay stayed true to his words as he was quick to grab Heeseung once they all settled down and attempt to drag him into the water.

“Let go of me!” Heeseung tried to peel his friend off of him as they got closer to the water, “You also wanted to get Sunghoon! Get him and spare me, I’ll even help you!”

Jay stopped hearing at the sudden offer of help to take down the said other friend instead and he let go of Heeseung to show a sign of truce.

Heeseung sighed in relief seeing that he was spared as he followed in suit after Jay who was already marching back to the poor blanket they established for themselves where the other two friends were settled down at.

The summer sun blared against them and Sunghoon who was minding his own business talking to Jake took notice of his two friends looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“What?” He asked and before he knew it, his two friends grabbed him by the arms and attempted to drag him to the water, “What the fuck?!” Sunghoon thrashed in their hold to break free

“Jake help us! You know he’s stronger than all of us” Heeseung called out to the last friend who immediately jumped in and pushed Sunghoon with his shoulder closer to the water

And right when Sunghoon was able to manage free one of his arms from their hold, he was pushed harshly into the freezing cold sea. He landed face first and gasped loudly as he jumped up, covering his face with his hands as he panted for air.

“Thought you said you couldn’t wait to get wet Hoon” Jake teased with the previous words said in the car and Sunghoon shot a sharp glare to his friends who were laughing loudly seeing his soaked state

“You three are so done for” Sunghoon announced before taking big strides out of the water to chase after his already running friends

They were in their own world, oblivious to you, the only other person on the beach who arrived not too long after them. You frowned, ripping off your earbuds as you rested yourself up on your elbows hearing the loud ruckus on the beach.

This was supposed to be a hidden peaceful beach, so why were you hearing not one, not two, not even three but four guys screaming on the top of their lungs.

When you caught sight of the four guys on the beach, you grimaced to yourself realizing they were just like you, just trying to enjoy the summer day on the beautiful beach.

You dragged down your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose to properly get a look at them and your breath slightly hitched seeing them in their little establishment of a blanket that held all of their belongings.

Sunghoon pulled his damped shirt off and twisted it to get the water drained out of it, seeing how the stream of water fell from his favorite shirt made him frown deeply.

“Cheer up Sunghoon, it’ll dry up in the most natural way” Heeseung patted his bare back before pointing into the sky, “By the sun” Sunghoon swatted his friend’s hand away making him chuckle before giving a few more extra pats just to spite Sunghoon

As the rest of his friend were following in suit of removing their shirts, Sunghoon looked around the beach, his eyes squinting from the sun’s glare before stopping on you, he didn’t notice there was someone else besides them.

He froze up, noticing your piercing gaze on them from the opening of your sunglasses that rested midway on your nose bridge.

“Hey” He called out to garner his friend’s attention and Jake who already took of his shirt and threw it down next to Sunghoon’s was the first to react to his friend’s calling

He noticed how Sunghoon was looking off to the distance so his eyes trailed the line of sight and he finally noticed you. Jake immediately slapped Jay’s body in a haste before he could even take off his shirt and the boy was going to curse at his friend before noticing something or more like someone had Jake’s full undivided attention.

He looked to where his two friend were staring at as he saw your held up self by your elbows, your fingers holding your sunglasses down just enough to fully see them.

“What are you guys so quiet?” Heeseung laughed, not paying attention to what was happening and when he finally did

He turned his gaze from his frozen friends to you, the one that made them all suddenly speechless.

There was no denying the fact that you were beautiful. Your skin glistened from combination of sunblock, lotion and sweat as your eyes never once left them. Your eyes hoping from each of them as you drunk in their undeniable strong appearance.

Today must’ve been your lucky day, you were blessed with four conveniently attractive guys on the beach on the hot summer day.

You smirked before bringing your sunglasses up and laying back down on your back to continue allowing the sun to drown your skin.

When you finally looked away, the guys were finally able to breathe as they all turned to each other with shaky eyes. They didn’t know what, let alone why, they were feeling like this but there was one thing they all collectively felt and it throbbed right in between their legs.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

“Go long” Jay shouted to Jake who ran through the sand, arms out to catch the football thrown to him

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived at the beach (and since they realized your presence). You respectfully kept your distance and they did the same, worried what would happen if the 5 of you got close enough.

Jake thought he would be able to catch the football but instead it slipped through his hands and fled past him only to land right next to you. Great.

You heard the thud next to you and you peered over your shoulder to spot the football that landed almost perfectly next to you. You turned to the side seeing how Jake was mumbling to himself before lightly jogging over to you with a hand up and a tight smile.

You fully turned around and sat up, grabbing the football next to you waiting until he arrived in front of you. Jake slowed down his pace, gulping down a pant that he excused to be from jogging and nothing else.

“Sorry about that, it slipped through my fingers” The guy in front of you rubbed his nape awkwardly, looking everywhere but at you

You frowned lightly before tilting your head, fully removing your sunglasses. Jake finally noticed you and he let out an audible gasp, seeing your face up close without your sunglasses blocking your face.

As weird as it sounded in his head, you had the most perfect pair of eyes he’s ever see. His eyes that stayed on your face, now lingered down your body. He threw himself into a daze as he unconsciously licked his lips as he tried to burn the sight of you into his eyes.

He realized he must’ve been staring when he hadn’t said anything and the football was still in your hand, he embarrassingly pulled his gaze back to your eyes.

You looked up to his standing figure and slightly smirked seeing the faint reddening in his ear as you realized where his lingering eyes were. You shook the football in your hand, “Make sure to catch it next time” Hearing your voice for the first time made his heart pound uncomfortably against his chest

Everything about you was perfect. He gulped, knowing if he opened his mouth he would ruin the moment. Sticking to only nodding his head and grabbing the football from you as you gave him a sweet sickening smirk, a glint in you that he caught before you placed your sunglasses back on.

You laid back down on your front with ease, your boobs slotting into the holes in the sand you made to fit them perfectly.

Jake began to walk away, trying to get his mind off of you but it was impossible, not after seeing you so up to close even hearing your voice before any of the others.

You made his mind too fuzzy to think properly that he spontaneously turned his heel and walked back towards you, calling out to get your attention.

You raised your head up again and he could feel your questioning gaze through your glasses towards him but he pushed past that as he held the football out to you.

“Wanna come play with us?”

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Now what Jake meant by if you wanted to play with them consisted of you throwing the football back and forth every now and then but mainly for you to just hang around and talk with them.

He didn’t expect to have you sucking the life out of him, his head thrown back as he held back whines by how easily you took all of him in your mouth. Jay who you were sitting in between of his legs had your swimsuit bottoms pushed to the side as his fingers were buried deep inside your dripping wet core.

Heeseung and Sunghoon huddle over you, silently watching the scene before them. It was something straight of a porn video but instead it being through a video, it was happening in real life and to them.

“F-fuck, y-you’re such a good girl. Taking all of me in your mouth” Jake groaned as you continued to bop up and down his shaft in a haste, as your mouth vibrated around him from the curling of Jay’s finger deep inside you

“She’s no good girl” Jay spat as his fingers pumped in and out of you and he smirked wildly feeling you clenching around his fingers, you whined around Jake’s cock, feeling your stomach tightening and Jay could feel you getting closer to your orgasm

He hastily continued to glide his two plunged fingers deeper and faster into you causing you to be a moaning mess. “Continue sucking him off, he didn’t come yet” Jay slipped out his fingers that ripped you away from your orgasm only to slap your pussy harshly making you jolt

You could feel the tears building up in your eyes as spit formed in the corner of your mouth as you tried to continue sucking Jake’s cock after having your orgasm ripped from you.

“You’ll let me use your pretty mouth right?” Jake let out almost like a plea as you weekly nodded and that was all Jake needed before he was holding the back of your head as his hips slammed against your face to chase his own release

You gurgled out chokes as you felt him deep into your throat, his heavy balls slapping your chin from his fast thrust as he fucked you like you were nothing more than just a toy for him. “Your mouth is absolutely perfect” He panted, feeling the build up in his stomach coming closer and closer

Jay who was circling your folds together, smirked seeing how you let Jake use you and he decided to be the second nice one out of the bunch and reward you. His slipped his fingers back into your gaping hole and you strained out a weak gasp, your oxygen levels dropping as you were filled from two holes.

“Taking what I give you so well” Jay hummed satisfied how you easily took his fingers back in, as if they were meant to always be buried in you

“Fuck!” Jake shouted as he stilled his thrust and his warm seed shot down your throat making sure he dumped everything in to have you swallow

He gave a few more shallow thrust before finally pulling away from your mouth with a pop, his lips shivering from the sudden hit of cold air on his wet warm cock. He weakly looked to you to see your dazed out expression, weak moans falling from your lips as Jay continued to slam his fingers into you.

Jake cooed seeing you cupping your face with his hands and rubbed his thumbs against them to ease you. You let out wet strained noises as Jake remained eye contact with you.

“Let go on his fingers” Jake’s soft voice sent jolts into your body and straight down to your stretched out hole

Those words caused you to clamp down harshly on Jay’s fingers as his other free hand found your swollen clit and harshly rubbed it. You squealed as you clawed onto Jake’s body who carefully held you.

“Give it to me” Jay sneered as the stimulation was making you see stars but alongside of the usual build up in your stomach, you felt something else

You shook your head violently, realizing what he was trying to draw out of you. You tried to get away from Jay’s protruding fingers but Jake kept you in your place to continue sucking in Jay’s fingers

You screamed as the gush of stream shot out of you, drowning Jay’s finger, your swimsuit bottom and Jay’s lower body in your release. His fingers slipped out of you and messily rubbed away at your gushing hole, encouraging more of your release to burst out of you.

Your body jerked into Jake as he held you tightly, watching the scene in pure awe. He was going to need that moment tattooed into his brain.

“Shit that was so hot” Jay panted as you shivered violently from the high you were in as your body fell limped against theirs

Jay soothed your bum with his hand as if to tell you ‘good job’.

You could feel your body spent but it was far from over.

“Alright move it’s our turn” You faintly made out a voice through the ringing of your ear, you suddenly felt your body tussled from one to another with ease

You gasped and through the haze of your eyes, you looked to recognize Sunghoon, the first guy you saw on the beach.

“Hoon are you sure she can handle it? Look at her” Jake shoved his softened self back into his trunks as he pointed out your dazed expression and Sunghoon smirked before taping the side of your face with his hand

He smirked to your dazed expression as you stared at him with your teared filled eyes, “Of course she can, she’ll be good to us after all, won’t you?” Your hole clenched around nothing hearing the words thrown to you

You let out a whimper when you felt your swimsuit bottom be pulled the side once again but this time by Heeseung as he watched your closing and opening hole. “So fucking pretty”

“Don’t even think about it” Sunghoon warned as he noticed Heeseung taking in your glistening core with hungry eyes

Heeseung peered away from you to his friend surprised as he saw a stern look on Sunghoon’s face. “I saw her first, she’s mine” He slight shoved Heeseung away from you causing your swimsuit bottom to slip from his hand and snap against you making you squeal

“Shh it’s okay, gonna make it all feel good” Sunghoon whispered in your ear before suddenly pushing you into their poorly held blanket

You had your face down being able to feel the snow underneath the blanket against your face as your ass was raised high to be displayed.

All of sudden like a bunch of seagulls, all his friend flocked around as Sunghoon pulled your bottom to the side to catch glimpse of your dripping self. The moment was embarrassing, having four guys stare directly at your exposed self like it was the best thing to ever exist(to them it was).

Sunghoon’s quickly brought his trunks down just enough to have his harden cock spring out before he protruded it into your hole not wanting to waste anymore time that prevented him from feeling the paradise he knew you were. “Fu-Fuck Jay you didn’t prep her for shit! She’s still so fucking tight”

“How come you’re the first one to fuck her?!” Jay shouted as you struggled to take Sunghoon in your hole, gasping because it was true, you weren’t nearly prepared enough to take him

“Because I saw her first” Sunghoon grunted as he was finally able to bottom out, the grip on him almost made him cum right then and there as you panted by how full you felt

Yet, you didn’t have enough time to get used to his size stretching you out as he suddenly started to slam his hips to you. Your body was sent deeper into the blanket as you gasped loudly, feeling the sand underneath your hand as you clawed at the blanket for leverage.

Your whines soon became louder as Sunghoon sent a smack to the side of your ass loudly. “Sucking me in so good like you were made for this shit”

Your mouth fell slacked, moans, whimpers and babbles mixed together as your back was being blown out by Sunghoon.

His tip soon found the bundle of nerves in you that made your fall completely apart of his cock, “That’s right, fall apart of my cock- Just like that-“

You felt dizzy, the wind was getting knocked out of you by each of his harsh thrust, lead by primal need to fill you up.

“Gonna milk my cock? Going to be good and take everything I give you?” Sunghoon gruntled out as he could feel the knot forming in his stomach daring to snap

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You answered to his question, not having a full comprehension of what was being said but what you wanted was to milk him of everything he’s got

Sunghoon muttered multiple ‘fucks’ as his pace became brutal chasing the high, the way you tightened around him, the way that you kept sucking him back in when he tried to get even as little a more than midway away from you to slam his cock back into you.

Your hole gripped him like it never wanted him to leave as the wave of pleasure finally crashed down on you as you let out a loud moan as you came all over him. Sunghoon smirked and sent another smack to your ass, you whined loudly as his thrust finally started slowing down with grip on your hip that you knew there was no way there weren’t bruises left behind.

Sunghoon’s warm seed painted your velvet walls white, as he groaned, “So fucking good”

You whimpered as his twitching cock slipped out of you. He was covered in his and your release and he watched how his cum oozed out of you. Fuck he loved it so much.

“Out of my way Sunghoon” Heeseung shoved his friend to the side who tripped over his feet, “I drove over here, it’s only fair that I get to go second” Heeseung explained, excited to finally be getting in on the action after being deprived unlike his friends who at least did something with you

“Nu uh Hee” Heeseung felt a hand on his shoulder as he was pulled back to have Jay squeeze through behind you instead of him, “I’m the one driving back, I deserved to go second”

Heeseung mouth fell slack and the tent in his trunks twitched in desperation need as it realized that it was going to continue being deprived of relief.

Jay on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to rip out his aching self into his hand and gave a few stroke to himself, he saw how Sunghoon’s release came out of you and he felt the need to replace it with his own.

Your broken out noises turned into another loud gasp as you felt an even larger of a stretch by Jay who struggled to slip into you. “All about talking shit Sunghoon- Fuck!-But you didn’t even loosen her enough for me” Jay gruntled as your hole tried to get accustomed to the wider stretch

“O-oh my-“ You clawed harder onto the blanket as the stretch was almost too much for you to handle and Jay took notice of that

He cooed as he rubbed up and down your back, forcing yourself to arch even more for him, “Taking two cocks back to back huh?” He sneered as he tried to remain his usual composure as he moved painfully slow

You whined as you moved your hips to meet with his slow thrust and Jay smirked wildly seeing you were starting to fuck yourself on him.

Jay stopped his thrusting and let you do all the work. You weakly slammed your lower half against him trying to build up the pleasure lingering in your stomach. Jay’s hand rubbed your back as he watched his cock barely disappear inside of you from how shallow you were fucking yourself.

“Come on, you can go faster than that. Don’t you wanna come again?” Jay snarked and he could feel the pure desperation in your movements for him to take over

But he wasn’t going to take going to give you what you wished for. If you wanted him, you needed to prove that you do.

“Please” You begged, your hips not meeting his in the same fast pace you wished for, “Pl-please” Fresh tears spilled from your eyes

“Please what, I need words”

“Please fuck me, I’ll be good- Just please!” The scene before Jay was pathetic

“Never met such a cock hungry girl before, better take all I give you” And with that Jay snapped his hips hard to meet yours half wall causing you let out a loud moan

Jay didn’t have to time to waste, his fingers left indents right next to Sunghoon’s on your hip. “Tightest pussy ever” Jay groaned as all you could do was have your mouth open wide by the sheer stretch he gave your hole

You’ve never been this stretched out before and it made your mind turn into mush. “Letting random guys fuck you on the beach, what if someone were to come and see?” Your hole clenched harder at the thought and Jay smirked, letting out a stifle laugh, “You like knowing that anyone could see you right now”

Your moans and sounds of skin slapping filled the beach as the waves crashed against the shore, the wetness not being able to match the wetness that gushed and stained your hole and Jay’s ramming cock.

His thrust only remained sloppy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass making you coat him in your release as you let out an obscene whine, “Perfect pussy” Jay praised as he felt you grip onto him that even almost forcing him out if it wasn’t for him continuing his raging pace.

“Al-almost there- Shit!” Jay thrust shot your body deeper and deeper, the overstimulation make your eyes roll to the back of your head wondering just how you were able to be in this position

Jay was brutal, merely using you for his own pleasures and it soon came for him as his thrust only got messier until his warm seed coated your already mixed velvet and white walls with his own release. He gave a few harsh thrust deep inside you to push his cum deeper than Sunghoon’s wanting to have his mark in you deeper than the others.

He groaned loudly, feeling the way you gripped him making sure you took everything he gave you without a single thing falling out. When he pulled out, Jay quickly shoved his fingers deep inside you to hold his cum in your hole. You squeaked feeling the replacement of his cock with his fingers. “Gotta make sure it stays in there”

You wailed feeling how your hole fluttered around his large fingers in you and how he would pump them slowly giving the excuse that there was some falling out and he couldn’t have you leaking.

However, there was a tap on Jay’s shoulder and he looked to see Jake who had a softer look in his eyes than him and Sunghoon, “Let me take care of her you assholes” Jake told as he motioned for his friend to move, seeing your fucked out expression and red filled with white hole

Jay scoffed as he harshly removed his fingers from you, seeing how it was coated beautifully by you. He admired his fingers before delivering a light smack followed by a few faint taps against your sore core making your shudder loudly.

Jake ushered his friend to move and Jay rolled his eyes, stuffing himself back into the restraints of his swimming trunks before finally letting his other friend have you.

Jake could feel the betrayal gaze on him and he knew Heeseung wanted to go next, badly too. But Jake saw the way Jay and Sunghoon had used you and that he needed to step in and treat you the way you should be treated for, like the gifted paradise you were for them.

“Hey it’s okay, I actually got you” Instead of continuing your position and having your face down and ass up, Jake carefully flipped your sensitive body around to have you facing him

The sunlight blinded your eye sight, your chest rising and falling from how heavy you were breathing but you could feel the pairs of hungry eyes on you as you laid sprawled in front of them, your dazed out expression, your fluttering hole that leaked the releases that it held. You looked perfect in their eyes.

And Jake was going to make sure you knew just how precious and perfect you are.

Instead of diving straight into your hole with his aching hard on, he wanted to treat you. Jake slotted himself in between you, raising your legs over his shoulder, his breathing fanning over your wet core, he gave butterfly kisses on your inner thigh as he traveled down further and further until he finally made contact with your wet heat.

You gasped, the overstimulation started to overwhelm you but Jake soothed your body with his warm hands, trying to help calm your jolting self.

As he gave open kisses, through the haze of stimulation, yours hands ached to tangle in his hair, his tongue gliding with ease as he buried himself in the sweet venom of you. His nose rubbing against your clit perfectly which finally made you finally claw at his hair. Jake groaned feeling your hands tangle with his already messy fluffy hair and that sent shivers running through as it added beautifully to the sensation of his mouth.

“Taste so sweet” Jake blabbed, “So fucking good, so addicting”

Jake continued to eat you out, his tongue teasing your entrance as his lips worked its wonders on you. The dazed feeling of his open mouth to it closing, sucking everything that was coming out of you. Jake could get lost in you and he was.

The way you tasted, the way he had you arching your back, your hands pulling against his hair as he could feel you closing in on his tongue, this was what Jake strived to forever be in.

Your mewls encouraged him further and right when you could feel the same build up in the stomach that you didn’t even know you could bring out again, Jake disconnect his mouth from you.

You closed your eyes whining how your orgasm was ripped away from you and you lazily looked to Jake who was panting heavily, the bottom of his face smeared with his own spit, your mixed arousals, as he stared at your desperate self. He leaned in once more to give a kiss on your swollen clit before raising his body to clash with yours.

You felt how Jake pressed himself against you as he softly whispered in your ear, “I’m sorry angel, need you to come on my cock instead” He placed a kiss on the side of your face, making your heart twist feeling the wet sensation on your face which it soon melted you as you feel his guided intrusion stretching you out a second later

You gripped his shoulders as he buried himself in the crock of your neck, his thrust allowing him to ease in more and more, his tip pushed further into you as his thrust were desperate but slow. Jake gripped your sides when he was able to find the pace that allowed him and you to feel even more than how you already were with each other, “Such a beautiful angel” His praises made your insides turn mushy as you let yourself get used to the tender side kisses and touches left by Jake

His buried cock slipping in and out of you with a growing pace and you started to feel how he was losing his sense of direction as he started to snap his hips faster into you, “Absolutely perfect- How can you be so- F-fuck” Jake felt your tightening hold on his cock as you wrapped your arms over his shoulder, your chest meshed with his and he shattered feeling the very mounds that he couldn’t get his mind off ever since he saw them

Jake’s hand grabbed your breast in his hand to squeeze like a personal stress ball as his body was succumbing to you. The touch to your sensitive mound made you shake as he only thrusted into you at his quick pace, “I’m- I’m gonna come-” Jake whined as he placed harsh kisses against you neck almost immediately finding your sweet spot which made you break

Just as you gripped him tighter, you felt the twitch of his cock as his thrust were growing frantic for his release, his hot breathe in your ear with endless praises, the hold on your boob growing tighter as the thrust into you were finally becoming sharp thrusts.

His spurts shot inside of you which prompted your own release as yours and Jake’s mixed pleasure came together, coating each other in your releases.

You shivered feeling the new load in your already full stomach, Jake’s pants filled your ears and he continued to place the kisses all of your chest and collarbone, “You did so good angel, the best ever” Jake tried to soothe your shivering self as you heavily panted, closing your eyes, allowing yourself to get used to the warmth of his body with you but that was taken away from you as you felt Jake achingly pull himself out of you

You felt the emptiness once again as he planted a kiss to your worn out knee, a sign of affection before leaving your sore body on the blanket, your expression too far beyond any comprehension.

Jake didn’t want to leave you, wanting to continue relishing in your warmth that engulfed him but he couldn’t be selfish, not when he knew that there was someone else, his own friend who’s been patiently waiting long enough.

When Heeseung realized it was finally his turn, the weight on his shoulder felt heavier instead of lighter, he stared at you with a crazed expression knowing he had to go out with a bang.

You body still shuddering trying to come down from your high and the new addition of release inside of you. You closed your eyes trying to catch you breath when suddenly you felt your weak legs be spread open and you shot your eyes open to see Heeseung staring at your messy sticky hole coated with his friends and yours release. His unreadable expression made your heart hammer against your chest, your mind too fucked out to even try and attempt to see what was going through his head.

Yet, the only thing that coursed through his head was the thought and determination to completely fill you up to the brim.

You exposed on full display for him made him let out a dopey smile before diving his face right into you. Feeling the stride of Heeseung’s tongue on you made you squeal as you blabbed that you couldn’t take anymore, the overstimulation hazed your senes, it being too much for you.

But you could feel the smirk against your core as Heeseung gave it a few kisses and harsh pulls with his teeth making you yelp loudly.

“Come on, you have one more cock to take” Heeseung laughed as he pulled away, his thumb rubbing over your core before lightly intruding it but just as quickly as he gave you that taste, he ripped it away from you

You pathetically let out a whine even though you were complaining you couldn’t take anymore, “Shh it’s okay, I know what you want. Don’t worry, I’ll give it to you” And just like that without a moment wasted, Heeseung pulled himself out, smearing his tip filed with precum with your mess before lightly intruding your hole with his tip that slipped in with ease thanks to his friend’s and yours mixed arousal

You threw your head back into the depths of the blanket feeling the sand that was molded to you head by how much you were pressed onto it. Heeseung soon pushed his tip painfully slower into you and the stretch and his length made your mind go on overdrive and there were no more thoughts in your head. Just thinking about the paradise beach guys.

“Yo-You’re taking me so well..- Shit! You actually are perfect” Heeseung grumbled, feeling himself get lost in you by the sheer amount of pleasure you were giving him

After hearing how well you’ve been taking them, it soared your dark ego as you continued to bathe in the degradation and praises you were receiving for being just so good to them.

He didn’t allow himself to bottom out, wanting to start now rather than later as he’s been the only one deprived for so long unlike his friends. Your body melted into the more easy pace, seeming like he wanted to take his time with you, to have his cock memorize your insides and see which thrust would be able to have you see stars and crumble just for him.

Heeseung’s hands soothed your aching hips as his pelvis would meet yours with slow but harsh thrust, it made your sealed breast to move within the restraints of your swimsuit and Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. He bundled up the top of your swimsuit before yanking it down to release your held breast to witness the beauty of them bouncing with each of his thrust.

The sight of it made his pace stutter and one of his hand gripped your right one, his left hand holding your waist to continue his deep thrust into you. His fingers played with your perky harden nipples which made your body jump, shaking your head as you felt the overstimulation of the sensation mess with your soul.

He pinched your nipple hard when he finally found the spot needed that made you squeal, muttering how you couldn’t possibly take anymore. The tip of his cock kissing your insides perfectly and he darkly chuckled hearing your babbles.

“You can take it- You‘ll take it like the good girl you are” Heeseung’s deep and calculated thrust into you made sure of it, you were going to give him another one and you were going to take what he gives you

Your mind already mushy, you only nodded in acceptance. You knew your babbles weren’t true. You would take what he gives you just like how he said you would. Your cries and moans mixed with the crashing waves of the ocean.

Your hands found the wrist of his hand that continued to pull and pinch your nipple as he simultaneously matched his thrust with the pull your already hard nipple. Your face scrunched harshly from your senses being thrown away as your ears rung, only hearing the waves crashing against the shore.

And right when a large wave crashed, so did you.

You clamped down harshly on Heeseung, who groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him and he lost control as he started to slam his hips into you in order to chase his own high. Your soft moans soon grew louder as ‘uhs’ left your mouth, your boobs bouncing faster.

“S-shit, gonna take me for all I’m worth” Heeseung spat and you only chanted ‘yes’ nonstop until one final harsh thrust lead to the emptying of his balls filled of him to litter your hole with his release.

And just like his promise, he filled you to the brim that it was almost impossible to know if you would ever stop leaking after being pumped so full of cum. Your body too tired and spent as you closed your eyes and heaved heavily trying to come back from the heavy trance they left you in. Heeseung pulled out and all of the friends gathered around to watch your hole leaking out of all of their release alongside yours.

You were the perfect paradise sent their way in order to experience what summer is supposed to truly be like.

Sunghoon who held a marker in hand used his mouth to bite the cap off throwing it off somewhere into the sand as he walked over to your spent self, carefully picking up you aching leg which made you shiver and he rubbed his thumb in a calming matter, smirking at the scene before bringing the marker on your skin.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

You looked down to your littered body, seeing the faint dried up splotches of cum that you didn’t know who it belonged to, the faint indents of their fingers left on your hips.

But what made your heart hammer to your chest were the four phone numbers on your body. Your left forearm having Jake’s number with a small ‘:)’ next to his name.

Jay writing his number on the back of your hand as it trailed to the bone of your wrist with just ‘J’ next to it. While Heeseung wrote down his number on the back of you calf which you had to take a picture of in order to properly see the number and the small ‘Hee’ he added with a dash next to it

While Sunghoon wrote his number in crevice on your inner thigh that was close to your fucked out hole from all that it was put through. But along with Sunghoon’s name with his number he wrote a simple note next it.

‘Call us’

The beach was indeed a paradise like its names as it now held the best memory to date of the perfect summer for all five of you.

——

1K notes · View notes

iamquiantrelle · 4 months ago

Text

BLOOD OATH (chapter 1) • iamquaintrelle

# pairings: mob!lewis hamilton x black reader (☔️⚡️)

# tags: @queenshikongo3 @httpsserene-main @simplyyalika @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @serpenttines @lewisroscoelove @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @saturnville @donteventry-itdude @snowseasonmademe @szariahwroteit @amirawrah @imjustheretomanifest @iamryanl @greedyjudge2 @beauty-gurl @hotfudgeslug @jessnotwiththemess

# summary: A marriage of convenience between crime families was supposed to be simple. No one mentioned it would be this complicated...or this deadly. masterlist

# a/n: I'm here for a good time not a long time....trying something new and don't worry I will come back to Wilo & Juju but I needed some rest out of the footballer world.

next chapter |

Sunday mornings in the Ricci household were sacred— literally. No matter what blood had been spilled or what deals had been struck the night before, the family attended 9 a.m. mass at St. Anthony's without exception. Your father, Salvatore Ricci, would sooner put a bullet in a man's head than miss confession.

Last night's cleanup had been particularly messy. You'd overheard enough on your way to bed to know someone had talked to the feds. By morning, the problem had been "resolved," and your father had prayed extra long during confession.

You adjusted the simple gold cross around your neck as you sat in the third pew, the same spot your family had occupied for as long as you could remember. Your three younger sisters fidgeted beside you while your mother gently shushed them, her dark hands elegant against their designer dresses. Francesca Ricci, née Williams, had become the very picture of a mafia wife over the past thirty years, though the journey hadn't been easy. Being Black in the traditional Italian underworld had meant proving herself twice over, earning respect through unflinching loyalty and quiet strength.

You'd inherited her brown skin and sharp eyes, along with what your father called "that stubborn American backbone." The combination of your mother's Jamaican-American heritage and your father's Calabrian blood had given you a face that turned heads—not that anyone in your father's circle would dare look too long. Not after what happened to Tommy Venucci, who'd made a crude comment about mixing bloodlines at a family gathering three years ago. He still walked with a limp.

As Father Donato delivered his homily about the prodigal son, you found your mind wandering to the meeting scheduled for that afternoon. Suitor number four. The mysterious Englishman you'd heard whispers about for weeks. Your father's capos had been arguing about this one—bringing in an outsider, a non-Italian, was controversial. But his reputation preceded him: ruthlessly efficient, technologically savvy, and with legitimate business fronts that even the FBI couldn't crack.

Three men had already come to present their cases to your father. Three men had measured you like prized livestock, their eyes calculating your worth in territory and influence rather than seeing a woman with a mind of her own. The Sicilian had practically drooled, his reputation for violence preceding him—you'd seen the photos of what he'd done to a rival, the body barely recognizable afterward. The Irishman had been old enough to be your grandfather, his breath reeking of whiskey even at noon, hands stained with decades of other people's blood. And the Cuban... just the memory of his eyes on you made your skin crawl. Your father's men had whispered about his "special room" where women who displeased him disappeared for days.

"Peace be with you," Father Donato intoned, snapping you back to the present.

"And with your spirit," you murmured along with the congregation.

Your mother squeezed your hand, somehow sensing the direction of your thoughts. She'd been in your position once—the daughter offered as a bridge between families, though in her case it had been to bring peace between rival factions in New York. Your grandfather had run numbers in Harlem until the Italian families decided to expand their territory. Instead of war, they'd chosen marriage. At least she and your father had found genuine love over the years. You couldn't imagine being so lucky.

"He'll be here at three," your mother whispered as you all stood for the final blessing. "I've heard he's... different from the others."

Different. You'd been hearing that word a lot lately. Different business model. Different approach. Different standards. But at the end of the day, he was still a man looking to acquire you like a business asset.

Back at the estate, you changed from your church clothes into something more appropriate for meeting a potential husband—a knee-length navy dress that was modest enough to please your father but tailored enough to command respect. You weren't about to present yourself as either a nun or a trophy.

From your bedroom window, you could see your father's men patrolling the grounds, Berettas and Glocks barely concealed under their jackets. Through the iron gates, you caught glimpses of the cars parked along the street—not just your father's security, but watchers from other families. The Sicilians in particular had been keeping eyes on the estate since their heir had been rejected. In this world, wounded pride often led to bloody retribution.

"You're not even trying to look excited," Sophia, your youngest sister at seventeen, lounged across your bed, scrolling through her phone. "I'd be thrilled if Papa was setting me up with a hot British guy."

"You don't know that he's hot," you replied, securing your hair into a sleek twist. "And I'm not excited because I'm being traded like a racehorse."

"Better than being stuck with Lorenzo Bianchi," she shuddered, referring to the Sicilian. "Did you see those teeth? Like a shark that chews tobacco. And those gross neck tattoos that look like he let a drunk toddler draw on him."

You couldn't help but smile at her assessment. "True. Or Patrick O'Malley with his wandering hands and breath that could strip paint. Pretty sure he was checking out your ass too, by the way."

"Ugh, stop! I still have nightmares." She made a gagging sound. "At least the Cuban was good looking, even if he gave off serial killer vibes."

"Raúl Suarez doesn't just give off those vibes. Why do you think Papa suddenly had that basement remodeled after his visit?" You raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

Sophia's eyes widened. "Wait, seriously? I thought that was just a rumor."

"Talia in the kitchen overheard Papa and Uncle Paolo talking. Three girls went missing from his clubs in Miami last year. No bodies, no witnesses."

"Jesus Christ," Sophia whispered, crossing herself reflexively. "And Papa was still considering him?"

"The Suarez connection would have opened up shipping routes we need," you explained, repeating what you'd overheard at the door of your father's study. "Business is business."

"See? That's why this British guy might be better!" Sophia sat up, suddenly serious. "Papa wouldn't choose someone horrible for you. Not really."

The faith your sisters had in your father was touching, if naive. Salvatore Ricci loved his daughters fiercely, but business was business. The empire always came first—an empire built on gambling, protection rackets, and increasingly, designer drugs that catered to Wall Street instead of street corners. Class had always been your father's obsession; he wanted the Ricci family mentioned alongside the Gambinos and Genoveses, not relegated to some minor footnote in mafia history.

A knock at your door announced your mother, elegant as always in a simple black dress, gold at her throat and wrists—the uniform of a donna who knew her worth.

"He's arrived," she said simply. "Your father wants you downstairs in ten minutes. Not before."

The power play was familiar—make the suitor wait, establish dominance from the start. You nodded, applying a final touch of lipstick.

"Is he..." you hesitated, unsure what you even wanted to ask.

Your mother seemed to understand anyway. "He's older. Established. Carries himself with confidence." She paused, something like surprise crossing her face. "And he's... not what I expected. Quite striking, actually."

That piqued your interest. Your mother wasn't easily impressed by men's appearances.

"And he came alone," she added. "No entourage."

That was unusual. Most made a show of strength, bringing captains and consiglieres to these meetings.

"Smart," you mused aloud. "One man alone in the lion's den shows he's either foolish or fearless."

"We'll see which," your mother replied with the faintest smile. "Ten minutes."

You used all ten, not out of vanity but strategy. The longer this Lewis Hamilton waited, the more you could observe without being observed in return. The security feed on your tablet showed the grand study where these meetings always took place, giving you a perfect view of the potential fourth suitor.

He sat perfectly at ease in one of your father's leather armchairs, legs crossed casually, declining the offered espresso with a polite gesture. Not a hint of nervousness or impatience crossed his face as the minutes ticked by. Unlike the others who had fidgeted, paced, or tried too hard to impress your father with crude jokes, this man simply existed in the space like he belonged there.

What struck you immediately was how different he looked from what you'd expected. Your father's world was full of either old-school traditionalists in tailored suits or younger men trying too hard with flashy designer clothes. Lewis Hamilton was neither. His suit was impeccably tailored, yes, but modern in cut. More noticeable were his looks—his hair styled in neat braids with a precise fade at the sides, double nose piercings glinting subtly in the light, and multiple earrings in both ears. Tattoos covered his hands in intricate patterns, and you could see more ink peeking above his collar.

Your father, old-school to his core, would typically dismiss such a man instantly. The fact that he hadn't spoke volumes about what Hamilton must be bringing to the table.

At thirty-nine, he had fourteen years on you, but carried them well. Not a young hothead with something to prove, but not an old fossil clinging to outdated ways either. Even on the grainy security feed, you could see his eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

"Time," your mother called softly from the hallway.

You tucked the tablet away and took a steadying breath. Whatever game this Englishman was playing, you weren't about to be a passive piece on the board. If your hand in marriage was the prize, you'd make damn sure everyone understood exactly what they were getting.

The walk downstairs felt longer than usual, each step bringing you closer to a future being decided by men's ambitions rather than your own desires. But unlike many in your position, you weren't entering this blind. Years of listening at doors, reading files left unattended, and cultivating your own network of informants meant you knew more about your father's business than he realized. You knew about the cops on payroll, the judges who could be bought, and exactly how many bodies were buried in the foundation of your father's newest hotel development. Knowledge was the only power you'd been able to accumulate—and you intended to use it.

As you approached the study doors, you heard your father's distinctive laugh—a rare sound in business meetings. Whatever Hamilton had said had genuinely amused him, which was either very good or very dangerous.

You straightened your shoulders, lifted your chin, and nodded to Marco, your father's most trusted guard, to announce your arrival.

The conversation inside went quiet as Marco opened the door. "Signorina Ricci," he announced formally, a small nod of encouragement just for you.

Three sets of eyes turned as you entered—your father's familiar scrutiny, your uncle Paolo's curious assessment, and the cool, evaluating gaze of Lewis Hamilton, who rose smoothly to his feet.

Up close, his presence was even more striking. The tailored suit couldn't quite mask the physicality beneath—this wasn't a soft businessman but someone who clearly maintained his body as meticulously as his appearance. The tattoos on his hands were mathematical in design, all clean lines and precise geometry, nothing like the crude symbols the Irish thugs or Italian soldiers typically wore. His braids were perfectly maintained, the fade on the sides mathematically precise. The piercings that should have looked rebellious somehow just enhanced the sharp angles of his face.

Your father gestured you forward. "My daughter," he said simply. "The jewel of our family."

You extended your hand as you'd been taught, expecting the usual kiss that suitors performed with varying degrees of sincerity. Instead, Hamilton clasped it firmly in a handshake, as if greeting a business equal rather than a prospective bride.

"Ms. Ricci," he said, his British accent crisp and refined. "Lewis Hamilton. I've heard a great deal about you."

"Strangely," you replied, meeting his gaze directly, "I've heard very little about you."

A flicker of something—surprise, perhaps amusement—crossed his face so quickly you might have imagined it. Your father cleared his throat in warning, but Hamilton didn't seem offended by your directness.

"Perhaps we can remedy that," he said, releasing your hand and gesturing for you to sit.

As you took your place in the chair beside your father, you noted how Hamilton waited until you were settled before sitting himself—a small courtesy the others hadn't bothered with. He moved with the fluid economy of someone comfortable in his own skin, his attention seemingly casual yet you could feel the intensity of his observation.

This was a man who missed nothing, categorized everything, and revealed only what served his purpose. In that, at least, he was like every other man in this room.

"Mr. Hamilton was just explaining his unique business structure," your father said, the enthusiasm in his voice telling you he was already impressed.

"Legitimate enterprises supporting our more... specialized operations," Hamilton explained, his voice low and measured. "Technology has changed our world. The old ways of doing business leave too many vulnerabilities."

"And what exactly are your specialized operations, Mr. Hamilton?" you asked, earning another warning look from your father.

But Lewis Hamilton didn't seem troubled by your question. In fact, the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, not quite a smile but an acknowledgment.

"Let's just say I provide certain hard-to-acquire items to people with specific needs," he replied smoothly. "And ensure that financial matters remain... private. In today's digital world, that's becoming quite the valuable service."

Guns and money laundering. The cornerstones of power in your world, dressed up in polite euphemisms. You'd seen the reports on your father's desk—Hamilton's operation was smaller than the traditional families, but his weapons were military-grade, his financial networks impenetrable even to federal investigators. He'd built something sleek and modern while the old families were still using ledger books and cash drops.

"My daughter has been educated at the finest schools," your father interjected, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "Fluent in four languages, accomplished in music and art."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. The sales pitch was always the same—as if your college degrees and cultural accomplishments were nothing more than decorative features, like listing the premium options on a luxury car.

"Brilliant," Hamilton nodded, but his eyes remained on you rather than shifting to your father. "And what gets you going beyond your formal education? What interests you?"

The question caught you off guard. None of the others had bothered to ask about your interests. They'd been content to let your father extol your virtues while they imagined you in their bed.

"I'm particularly interested in business strategy," you answered honestly, curious to see his reaction. "Especially how traditional operations can adapt to changing markets and technologies."

Your father shifted uncomfortably beside you, but Hamilton leaned forward slightly, his interest seemingly genuine.

"Any specific areas?" he pressed, ignoring your father's obvious desire to change topics.

"Digital currency," you replied, deciding to test how seriously he'd take you. "Its implications for our particular... industry. The blockchain creates both opportunities and vulnerabilities that most traditional families haven't begun to address."

A flash of genuine surprise crossed Hamilton's face before his expression settled back into its usual controlled mask. "I'd be proper interested in hearing your thoughts on that sometime," he said, a hint of his British vernacular slipping through the polished exterior.

The conversation shifted then, your father guiding it toward the proposed alliance between families. You sat quietly, observing rather than participating, noting how differently Hamilton conducted himself compared to the others. Where they had boasted and promised, he stated facts. Where they had emphasized tradition, he spoke of innovation. Where they had leered, he maintained respectful distance.

It didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. If anything, the control he exhibited made him more so. This was a man who wouldn't lose his temper and lash out—he would calculate exactly how much force was needed and apply it with surgical precision. You'd heard whispers about his operation in London—small but lethal. People who crossed Lewis Hamilton didn't end up beaten or threatened; they simply disappeared without a trace.

As the meeting concluded, Hamilton rose, shaking your father's hand and your uncle's before turning to you once more.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Ricci," he said, his eyes meeting yours directly. "I look forward to our next conversation."

The certainty in his voice suggested he already knew your father's decision—or was confident enough in his proposal not to doubt it. Either way, something told you Lewis Hamilton wasn't a man accustomed to hearing the word "no."

"Until next time, Mr. Hamilton," you replied neutrally, giving nothing away.

As Marco escorted him out, you felt your father's eyes on you, assessing your reaction.

"Well?" he asked, unusually interested in your opinion. "What do you think?"

You considered your answer carefully. "He's different from the others," you admitted.

"Those piercings," your uncle Paolo muttered, shaking his head. "And the tattoos. Like some street thug."

Your father waved his brother's concerns away. "Times are changing, Paolo. His operation is smaller, but cleaner. More modern. The connections to legitimate business would give us protection we currently lack."

Protection. That was what this had always been about. Your father had built an empire on blood and loyalty, but times were changing. The old ways were becoming more dangerous, and Salvatore Ricci had no son to guide the family into the future.

Just four daughters, with you as the eldest—the crown princess who could never wear the crown yourself, but could place it on the head of a worthy husband.

"You'll have dinner with him tomorrow night," your father said, not a question but a command. "Alone. I want to see how he conducts himself with you when we're not watching."

A test, then. For him, or for you, or perhaps for both.

"Whatever you think is best, Papa," you agreed, mind already racing with possibilities.

Lewis Hamilton was undoubtedly the most intriguing of your suitors, but that didn't change the fundamental truth of your situation. You were still a commodity being traded, a bridge between empires.

The question now was whether you could turn this arrangement to your advantage—and whether the careful control you'd glimpsed in Lewis Hamilton would prove to be your prison or your opportunity.

*************************************************

The next evening found you standing in front of your closet, contemplating the impossible task of dressing for a dinner with a man who might own you by the end of the month. Too conservative would suggest meekness, too bold would offend your father, and either way, you'd be telling Lewis Hamilton something about yourself before you were ready for him to know it.

"The black Tom Ford," your mother suggested from the doorway, always able to read your mind. "Elegant but not trying too hard."

You nodded, pulling out the dress in question—a simple black sheath with architectural details at the neckline that walked the perfect line between sophisticated and interesting. Like armor disguised as silk.

"You know you don't have to do this if you truly don't want to," your mother said quietly, closing the bedroom door behind her. It was a conversation you'd had before, one that always ended the same way.

"And what's the alternative, Mama?" You slipped off your robe, stepping into the dress. "I run away and do what exactly? With what money? What protection? How long before someone uses me to get to Papa?"

Your mother sighed, moving behind you to zip the dress. "I just want you to have choices I didn't have."

"You chose Papa," you reminded her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Eventually."

"I grew to love your father," she clarified. "I was lucky. Not every arranged marriage turns out that way."

You turned to face her. "Do you think he's decided already? On Hamilton?"

Your mother's expression was measured. "Your father was impressed. And the message that arrived from the Bianchi family this morning may have sealed it."

"What message?" This was news to you.

"Lorenzo's father sent over a 'reconsideration' proposal. Doubled the territory offer, added shipping routes through Sicily."

You couldn't hide your disgust. "So he's literally trying to outbid Hamilton for me?"

"It's business," your mother said simply, the phrase all of you used to rationalize the uglier aspects of your life. "But your father was... displeased with the approach. Said Bianchi should have led with their best offer, not tried to undercut after the fact."

You turned back to the mirror, applying your lipstick with perhaps more force than necessary. "And the Cuban? Has Suarez given up?"

Your mother's expression darkened. "He sent flowers. Again. With a note your father wouldn't let me read."

That explained the fresh roses on the foyer table that hadn't been there this morning. Raúl Suarez's idea of courtship had a distinctly threatening undertone, like each bouquet carried an implicit "or else."

"So I'm still on the auction block," you said, keeping your voice even. "With Hamilton as the current high bidder."

"It's not—"

"It's exactly like that, Mama. Let's not pretend."

Your mother didn't argue the point. Instead, she reached for your jewelry box, selecting a pair of diamond studs. "Hamilton requested to meet in the city. Your father agreed, but only with security protocols in place."

That was unexpected. Most meetings happened on family territory, where your father controlled every variable. Allowing you to go into Manhattan, even with security, was a significant concession.

"Where in the city?" you asked, suddenly more interested. It had been months since you'd had an excuse to leave the compound in Mill Neck. Your father's insistence that you live at home "for your safety" had become increasingly restrictive over the past year, as tensions with rival families escalated.

"Eleven Madison Park," your mother replied, a hint of approval in her voice. At least Hamilton had good taste. "Antonio will drive you. Marco and Luca will provide security, but they'll maintain distance unless needed."

You nodded, a small thrill running through you despite everything. An evening in Manhattan, away from the estate's watchful eyes and your father's immediate presence, felt like temporary freedom—even if it was just an illusion.

"Is this Hamilton's way of testing boundaries?" you wondered aloud. "Seeing how much control he can take from the start?"

"Or offering you neutral ground," your mother suggested. "A place where neither family has home field advantage."

You hadn't considered that perspective. "Interesting theory."

"Just... keep an open mind," your mother advised, squeezing your shoulders gently. "And remember everything I taught you about reading men."

You smiled at that. While your father had trained you in the visible aspects of the business—the legitimate enterprises, the social connections, the charitable foundation that laundered both money and the family's reputation—your mother had taught you the more subtle arts. How to read microexpressions, how to extract information while appearing to share nothing, how to make men believe your ideas were actually theirs.

"I'll read him like a book," you promised, securing your mother's diamond studs in your ears. "But I doubt he'll be that easy to decipher."

"No," she agreed thoughtfully. "But that might make him more interesting than the others."

The others. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a text. Lorenzo Bianchi's name flashed on the screen, the fifth message today. You showed it to your mother with a raised eyebrow.

"He's persistent," she acknowledged. "And his family is dangerous when rejected."

"They're all dangerous," you reminded her, deleting the message without reading it. "That's the whole point of this arrangement. Finding the devil whose hell I can live with."

Your mother didn't contradict you, just helped you select a simple gold bracelet to complete your outfit. "Antonio will be ready at six. That should put you at the restaurant by seven, even with city traffic."

An hour in the car each way. Normally that would seem tedious, but tonight you welcomed it. The ride from your family's North Shore estate into Manhattan would give you time to prepare mentally. To strategize. To remember that no matter how intriguing Lewis Hamilton might be, this was still a business transaction at its core.

At precisely six, you descended the grand staircase to find not just Antonio waiting, but your father as well. He stood in the foyer, examining you with a critical eye.

"You look beautiful," he said after a moment, the compliment sounding oddly formal. "Remember who you are tonight. You represent our family."

"I always do, Papa," you replied, accepting his kiss on both cheeks.

"Hamilton is... unconventional," your father continued, walking you to the door. "But he's smart. Connected. His operation in London has expanded into five countries in just eight years. No arrests, no leaks."

You nodded, understanding what your father was really saying. Lewis Hamilton represented new blood, new methods. A way to modernize the Ricci empire without sacrificing its core business.

"The Bianchis have been calling all day," your father added, his expression hardening. "Lorenzo claims he's in love with you. After meeting you once."

You couldn't help the derisive sound that escaped you. "Lorenzo Bianchi wouldn't know love if it stabbed him in the chest. Which, according to what I've heard, is his preferred method of solving problems."

Your father didn't deny it. "Just be careful. These rejected suitors... their pride is wounded."

"I'll have Marco and Luca," you reminded him, though the concern in his voice was touching. For all his faults, your father did love you. He just loved the family business more.

"Yes, well." He adjusted his tie, a nervous gesture you rarely saw. "Hamilton strikes me as capable of handling himself if trouble arises. But still, be cautious."

The idea that your father was entrusting your safety partly to Hamilton was telling. Perhaps his mind was already made up about this match.

"I'll text when I arrive at the restaurant," you promised, stepping outside where the black Escalade waited, engine running.

Antonio, your family's most trusted driver, held the door for you with a respectful nod. At thirty-five, he'd been with the family since before you were born, rising from teenage errand boy to become one of your father's most reliable soldiers. If trouble found you in the city, Antonio was nearly as deadly as Marco and Luca combined.

As the car pulled down the long, tree-lined driveway of the estate, you felt the familiar mix of relief and anxiety that always came with leaving the compound. Your family's ten-acre property in Mill Neck represented both prison and protection—a gilded cage that kept you safe from enemies while simultaneously restricting your freedom.

The gates swung open, revealing a black sedan parked just outside the property. You didn't need to see the occupants to know it was Bianchi's men, maintaining their unwelcome surveillance. They'd been there for three days now, ever since Lorenzo's proposal had been declined.

"Persistent bastards," Antonio muttered, accelerating past them.

You watched in the side mirror as the sedan pulled out to follow at a discreet distance. "They're still tailing us?"

"Don't worry," Antonio assured you, his hand moving briefly inside his jacket where you knew he kept his Glock. "Luca and Marco are right behind them. They won't get close in the city."

You nodded, settling back against the leather seat. This was your normal—being followed, guarded, watched from all sides. Sometimes by people who wanted to protect you, sometimes by those who wanted to use you as leverage against your father. The distinction hardly mattered when the end result was the same: limited freedom.

As the Escalade merged onto the highway, you watched Long Island's affluent suburbs give way to increasingly urban landscapes. The city gradually appeared on the horizon, a collection of glittering towers against the darkening sky. Despite everything, you felt a flutter of excitement. It had been nearly three months since you'd been to Manhattan, your movements increasingly restricted as multiple families vied for alliance through marriage.

"Looking forward to dinner?" Antonio asked, catching your eye in the rearview mirror.

"I'm looking forward to something different," you replied honestly. "Even if it's just another man evaluating me like a prize thoroughbred."

Antonio had the grace to look uncomfortable at your candor. He'd known you since childhood, had taught you to drive (secretly, against your father's wishes) when you were sixteen, had even covered for you once when you'd snuck out to a college party. But the realities of your position in the family were something even loyal Antonio couldn't change.

"This Hamilton," he said carefully. "Word is he's formidable. Not like the others."

"So I've gathered," you replied. "Is that good or bad, in your opinion?"

Antonio considered this as he navigated through increasing traffic. "Good, maybe. A man secure in his power doesn't need to prove it constantly. Might make him a more... reasonable husband."

The word "husband" still sent an uncomfortable jolt through you. This time tomorrow, your father might well have decided to give you to Lewis Hamilton for the rest of your life.

"We'll see," was all you said, turning your attention to the city lights now fully visible ahead.

Your phone buzzed again. This time it wasn't Lorenzo Bianchi but Raúl Suarez. A photo message that you opened against your better judgment.

It was a picture of you. From yesterday. Walking from the house to the garden, completely unaware you were being photographed.

Looking forward to changing your mind, belleza, the accompanying text read. I'm a patient man.

You deleted it immediately, suppressing a shiver. The Cuban's tactics were becoming increasingly concerning. At least Bianchi limited himself to excessive texts and flowers.

"Everything okay?" Antonio asked, noticing your expression.

"Fine," you lied smoothly. "Just another reminder of why I need to choose the least objectionable option."

As the Manhattan skyline enveloped you, traffic slowing to the typical crawl of early evening, you found yourself wondering what kind of man Lewis Hamilton really was beneath the controlled exterior and strategic business proposal. Was he truly different, as everyone kept suggesting? Or just better at disguising the same possessive, controlling nature that seemed endemic to men in your world?

You'd find out soon enough. For now, you were determined to enjoy this rare taste of the city, this brief illusion of freedom before decisions were made that would determine the rest of your life.

And if Lewis Hamilton thought you'd be an easy acquisition, a docile addition to his growing empire, he was about to discover exactly how mistaken he was.

Eleven Madison Park glowed with understated elegance, its Art Deco interior a testament to old New York money and taste. The maître d' greeted you by name before you could even introduce yourself, suggesting that Lewis had ensured they knew exactly who to expect.

"Mr. Hamilton is already seated," the man informed you with a deferential nod. "If you'll follow me."

You felt eyes tracking your movement through the restaurant—the curse of being a Ricci in Manhattan, where your family name was whispered in both boardrooms and back alleys. Marco and Luca had already positioned themselves strategically at the bar, pretending to be just another pair of Wall Street types unwinding after hours, but their eyes constantly scanned for threats.

Lewis rose as you approached the table, set in a discreet corner that offered both privacy and a clear view of all entrances. The tactics of a man who never let his guard down. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that somehow made his tattoos and piercings look deliberate rather than rebellious, like they were as much a part of his carefully crafted image as the Italian leather of his shoes.

"Ms. Ricci," he greeted you, that British accent wrapping around your name in a way that was irritatingly pleasant to the ear. "Thank you for joining me."

"As if I had a choice," you replied, allowing him to pull out your chair.

Instead of looking offended, a small smile played at the corner of his mouth. "There are always choices. Even when they're all bad ones."

You settled into your seat, noting how he waited until you were comfortable before sitting down himself. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"Just honest." He signaled to the sommelier, who appeared instantly at his side. "The Puligny-Montrachet we discussed earlier, please."

You raised an eyebrow. "Ordering for both of us already?"

"Just the wine," he clarified. "Unless you'd prefer something else?"

The challenge in his tone suggested he'd done his homework—probably knew that white Burgundy was your preference, information easily obtained from any of the high-end restaurants your family frequented. You decided not to give him the satisfaction.

"That's fine," you conceded. As the sommelier departed, you added, "Though I'm surprised you didn't choose something British."

A subtle shift crossed his features—not quite a smile, but the suggestion of amusement. "British wine is improving, but I'm not a patriot when it comes to vintages."

"Just when it comes to business?"

"Especially when it comes to business." His dark eyes held yours with unsettling directness. "I value loyalty above all else, Ms. Ricci. To people, not countries."

The sommelier returned with the wine, going through the tasting ritual with Hamilton, who handled it with the practiced ease of someone used to fine dining. Once your glasses were poured and you were alone again, you decided to cut through the preliminary niceties.

"So why exactly are we here, Mr. Hamilton? My father could have made his decision without this... interview."

"Interview?" He seemed genuinely amused now. "Is that what you think this is?"

"Isn't it? You're evaluating whether I'll be suitable for whatever role you've envisioned in this merger of empires." You took a deliberate sip of wine, noting that it was, annoyingly, excellent. "Or did you just want to see the merchandise up close before finalizing the purchase?"

Something flickered in his expression—a brief hardening of his features that vanished so quickly you might have imagined it, replaced by that same controlled composure. But in that fleeting moment, you glimpsed what might happen to anyone who truly crossed Lewis Hamilton. It wasn't hot rage like the Sicilians or cruel pleasure like the Cuban—just cold, efficient finality.

"If I viewed this as a purchase, Ms. Ricci, I wouldn't have bothered with dinner," he replied evenly. "Business transactions can be handled over the phone."

"Then what is this?"

"A conversation between two adults who might be spending quite a bit of time together in the future," he said simply. "I find it's useful to know who you're dealing with before making commitments."

The waiter appeared, saving you from having to respond immediately. You both ordered—you, the sea bass; him, the duck—and when you were alone again, you decided to press further.

"Why me? Why the Ricci family? Your operation seems entirely self-sufficient."

Hamilton considered his answer, turning his wine glass slowly between tattooed fingers. "Expansion requires allies. Your father has established routes and connections I could use. I have technological innovations and legitimate business fronts he needs. It's symbiotic."

"And I'm the connective tissue in this symbiotic relationship," you finished for him. "How flattering."

"You're underestimating your importance," he countered. "Your father doesn't need a son-in-law. He needs a successor he can trust. There's a difference."

The distinction was meaningful, suggesting he'd actually thought about this beyond mere territorial acquisition. Still, you weren't convinced.

"And what exactly do you get out of it?" you pressed. "Besides the business advantages, which you could negotiate without marriage. Why tie yourself to a woman fourteen years younger? I'm sure there are plenty of eligible women in London closer to your age who'd be more... compatible."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, unexpected and transformative. It didn't soften him, exactly, but it added a dimension you hadn't anticipated.

"Perhaps I appreciate the view beyond the business benefits," he said, his eyes making a deliberate, assessing sweep that should have felt offensive but somehow didn't. It wasn't leering, just honest appreciation.

Before you could respond, he added, "Age is largely irrelevant. I've met twenty-year-olds with the cunning of veteran strategists and sixty-year-olds with the wisdom of children. You're not some naive girl, Ms. Ricci, regardless of your birth year."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"It's supposed to be an answer. I'm not interested in this arrangement because of your age, but despite it. Your father has kept you involved in enough of the business that you understand the world we operate in. You're educated, strategic, and from what I can tell, not easily intimidated." His eyes locked with yours. "All useful qualities in a partner."

The word "partner" caught you off guard. Not "wife" or "possession" but "partner"—suggesting if not equality, then at least value beyond decoration or bloodline.

"Most men in your position want docile trophy wives," you noted, watching his reaction carefully. "Not partners."

"Most men in my position are fools," he replied without hesitation. "Wasting half the intelligence available to them out of archaic notions of gender. I don't have that luxury."

Your first course arrived, temporarily pausing the conversation. You used the moment to study him more carefully. His movements were precise, economical. Nothing wasted. The tattoos on his hands were intricate geometric patterns, almost mathematical in their precision. His braids were immaculate, suggesting attention to detail that extended to every aspect of his presentation.

"Your security detail is quite good," he commented casually, gesturing subtly toward Marco and Luca at the bar. "Though they might want to vary their positioning. Too predictable."

This surprised you. Most people never noticed your family's security arrangements. "You have men here too?"

His smile was brief but genuine. "What makes you think I need men?"

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down your spine. The rumors about Hamilton handling his own enforcement suddenly seemed very plausible. His athletic build wasn't just for show, and those hands with their beautiful, precise tattoos had probably ended lives with the same efficiency they now used to cut into perfectly prepared duck.

"I heard you dealt with problems personally in your early days," you said, testing the waters. "Is that still your preference?"

He regarded you steadily. "I find that delegation is necessary for growth, but direct intervention is occasionally... clarifying for those who might misunderstand my intentions."

It was the most diplomatic description of enforcement you'd ever heard, but no less chilling for its restraint.

"Like the situation with the Brennan family in Dublin?" you asked, dropping the reference deliberately.

His expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, that you knew about an operation that had been kept remarkably quiet. Three years ago, a Dublin crime family had tried to hijack one of Hamilton's weapons shipments. All five men involved had disappeared without a trace. No bodies, no witnesses, just gone—along with the family's patriarch a week later.

"You've done your homework, Ms. Ricci," he acknowledged, neither confirming nor denying.

"As have you, apparently," you countered. "The wine choice, the restaurant reservation under my name rather than yours, the awareness of my security. You've been watching me."

"Prudent research before a significant investment," he replied smoothly. "As I'm sure you've done as well."

The main course arrived, giving you a moment to recalibrate. Hamilton was harder to read than you'd expected. The calculated control you'd sensed at yesterday's meeting extended to every aspect of his behavior, yet didn't feel like the facade that so many men in your world maintained. This was simply who he was—disciplined, precise, lethal when necessary but not gratuitously cruel.

"May I ask you something direct, Mr. Hamilton?" you said after a few bites of excellent sea bass.

"Please do."

"If we were to move forward with this arrangement, what exactly would you expect from me? As your... partner."

He set down his fork, giving the question his full attention. "Loyalty, above all. Discretion. Intelligence applied to our mutual benefit." His gaze was unwavering. "I don't require you to love me, Ms. Ricci, but I do expect your allegiance to be absolute. No divided loyalties between my interests and your father's once we're married."

The bluntness was almost refreshing after the veiled language of most business discussions in your world.

"And what would I get in return?" you challenged. "Besides the obvious financial security that I already have."

"Protection. Freedom to pursue your own interests within reason. Respect." He took a careful sip of wine. "And a certain degree of autonomy that I suspect you haven't been permitted under your father's roof."

He'd identified perhaps the one thing that might actually tempt you—the promise of freedom, even if limited. The ability to move through the world without constant supervision, to make decisions without your father's approval.

"That's quite an offer," you said carefully. "But words are easy. How do I know you'd follow through?"

"You don't," he admitted. "Just as I don't know for certain that you wouldn't betray my trust at the first opportunity. Marriage is a risk, Ms. Ricci, even when it's a business arrangement."

You considered this, appreciating his honesty if nothing else. "And if I said no? Hypothetically."

"Then I'd finish this excellent meal, thank you for your time, and pursue a different approach to expansion." His tone was matter-of-fact. "Your father would likely move on to the next suitable candidate for your hand, and our paths might not cross again."

The complete lack of threat was notable, especially compared to how the Sicilian and Cuban had responded to the mere suggestion of rejection. Either Hamilton was supremely confident that the deal would proceed regardless of your opinion, or he genuinely wouldn't force the issue.

"I find that hard to believe," you said. "Men like you don't simply walk away from strategic advantages."

"Men like me?" His eyebrow raised slightly. "You seem to have placed me in a category, Ms. Ricci. I'm curious which one."

"Dangerous men who build empires and eliminate obstacles," you replied without hesitation. "Men who don't take no for an answer."

That small smile returned, transforming his severe features momentarily. "I always accept 'no' in personal matters. It's more efficient than the alternative." He leaned forward slightly. "But in this case, I don't think you want to say no. I think you're considering whether being tied to me would be better or worse than your current circumstances."

The accuracy of his assessment was unsettling. He read people too well—a dangerous quality when combined with everything else you knew about him.

"And what's your assessment?" you asked, meeting his gaze directly.

"I think you're calculating whether I'd be a prison or a pathway. Whether trading your father's control for a husband's would improve your situation or merely change the scenery of your confinement." He said this without judgment, simply stating what he observed. "It's the logical analysis, given your position."

Before you could respond, a commotion near the entrance caught your attention. Marco had shifted position, his hand moving subtly toward his concealed weapon. A group of men had entered—three Italians in expensive suits who were definitely not there for the cuisine.

Hamilton noticed your attention shift and glanced casually over his shoulder. "Friends of yours?"

"Bianchi's men," you replied quietly. "The rejected Sicilian. Apparently he's not taking no for an answer."

Instead of looking concerned, Hamilton merely nodded, returning to his meal with infuriating calm. "They won't approach while you're with me."

"You seem very confident about that," you observed, noting that Marco and Luca were now on high alert, communicating silently across the room.

"They've already seen me," Hamilton replied, cutting into his duck with precise movements. "They know who I am and what would happen if they created a scene."

You studied him with new interest. "And what exactly would happen, Mr. Hamilton?"

He met your eyes, and in that moment, you saw it again—that flash of cold finality that suggested absolute certainty in his ability to handle any threat. "They'd regret it deeply in whatever time they had left."

The matter-of-fact way he said it, without bravado or theatrics, made it all the more chilling. This wasn't a man who made threats; this was someone stating simple causality. Action and consequence.

True enough, Bianchi's men maintained their distance, settling at the bar where they could watch but not interfere. Your security team adjusted accordingly, creating a careful balance of power across the restaurant floor.

"Tell me something, Ms. Ricci," Hamilton said, smoothly changing the subject as if the potential threat were inconsequential. "If you weren't bound by family obligation, what would you do with your life?"

The question caught you off guard—no one had asked you that in years, perhaps ever. "I—" you hesitated, unused to such direct inquiry about your own desires rather than your family's needs.

"That's not a fair question," you finally said. "I've never had the luxury of that kind of thinking."

"Humor me," he pressed, those dark eyes fixed on yours with unexpected intensity. "If you could choose any path, what would it be?"

You considered deflecting again, then decided against it. This man might own half your life soon; he might as well know what he was buying.

"I'd want to build something of my own," you admitted. "Not separate from the family business necessarily, but something that was mine to shape. I have ideas about expansion into tech and legitimate finance that my father considers too risky."

Hamilton nodded, looking genuinely interested. "Forward-thinking. Your father mentioned you studied finance at Columbia?"

"And computer science," you added. "Though he prefers to emphasize my language skills and social graces when presenting me to potential husbands."

A brief smile touched his lips again. "The criminal world is changing. Technology and finance are the future. Your father knows it, whether he admits it or not. It's why he's considering me despite—" he gestured to his appearance, "my departure from traditional values."

The rest of dinner passed with surprising ease. Hamilton asked about your ideas for modernizing operations, listening with what seemed like genuine interest rather than performative attention. You found yourself speaking more freely than you had in months, outlining concepts for digital money laundering and secure communication networks that you'd never dared share with your father.

As dessert arrived, you realized with some surprise that you'd almost forgotten this was essentially a business meeting disguised as a date. Hamilton was unexpectedly easy to talk to when he chose to be, his questions precise and thoughtful, pushing you to expand on your ideas rather than simply agreeing.

"You're not what I expected," you admitted as you finished your chocolate soufflé.

"Is that good or bad?" he asked, watching you with those calculating eyes.

"I haven't decided yet," you replied honestly. "But it's... interesting."

He nodded, accepting this assessment without pressing for more. As he signaled for the check, you noticed Bianchi's men were still at the bar, watching with poorly disguised resentment.

"They'll follow us out," you said quietly.

"Probably," Hamilton agreed, signing the check without even glancing at the total. "Though they won't get close."

"Because of Marco and Luca?"

"Among other reasons." His tone suggested something you couldn't quite identify.

As you both stood to leave, Hamilton offered his arm in a surprisingly old-fashioned gesture. You took it, aware of the statement it made to the watching eyes. Bianchi's men would report back that you seemed comfortable with Hamilton, that there was a connection forming. Whether true or not, perception mattered in your world.

"I'll walk you to your car," Hamilton said as you exited the restaurant into the cool evening air.

"That's not necessary. I have security."

"I'm aware." Something in his tone made you look up at him. "But I'd like to anyway."

Against your better judgment, you nodded. As you walked the short distance to where Antonio waited with the Escalade, you felt Bianchi's men emerge from the restaurant behind you. Marco and Luca immediately moved to intercept, creating a buffer between you and the potential threat.

Hamilton continued walking as if completely unconcerned, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back—proprietary but not controlling. The gesture shouldn't have felt as reassuring as it did.

When you reached the car, Antonio opened the door, his face carefully neutral despite the unusual situation. Before you stepped in, Hamilton turned to face you.

"Thank you for dinner, Ms. Ricci," he said formally, mindful of the watching eyes from multiple directions. "I look forward to continuing our conversation."

"As do I, Mr. Hamilton," you replied with equal formality.

He took your hand, and instead of the handshake you expected, raised it to his lips in the briefest, most controlled kiss. The gesture was calculated, you knew—a clear signal to Bianchi's watching men about his intentions. Yet something about the fleeting pressure of his lips against your knuckles sent an unwelcome shiver up your arm.

"I'll be speaking with your father tomorrow," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "If you have any objections to moving forward, now would be the time to voice them."

The question surprised you—again, he was offering a choice where none was expected. You studied his face, trying to discern his true intentions behind the controlled exterior.

"No objections," you heard yourself say. "Yet."

That subtle smile appeared again, transforming his severe features for just a moment. "Prudent. Never commit without leaving yourself an exit strategy."

With that, he stepped back, allowing you to enter the car. As Antonio closed the door, you watched through the window as Hamilton turned to face the direction where Bianchi's men stood. He didn't approach them or make any obvious threat, just stood perfectly still, watching them with the focused intensity of a predator assessing prey.

Even from inside the car, you could see the Sicilians' discomfort grow under that unwavering gaze until they finally retreated to their own vehicle.

"Home, Miss?" Antonio asked, interrupting your observation.

"Yes," you replied, your mind already racing ahead. "Home for now."

As the Escalade pulled away from the curb, you found yourself wondering if Lewis Hamilton represented a different kind of cage or the key to one you'd been in your entire life. Either way, you suspected your father's decision was already made—and for once, you weren't entirely opposed to the arrangement.

Dangerous men were common in your world. But dangerous men who saw you as more than decoration or a means to an end? Those were rare enough to warrant further investigation.

Tomorrow would determine whether you'd found a partner or simply a more sophisticated jailer than the others who had sought your hand.

*******************************************

Your father summoned you to his study the following afternoon. You'd barely slept, your mind replaying every moment of the dinner with Hamilton, analyzing his words, his carefully controlled expressions, the brief moments when something genuine seemed to break through his disciplined exterior.

When you entered the study, your father wasn't alone. Uncle Paolo sat in his usual chair by the window, while your mother stood behind your father's desk—her presence unusual for these kinds of meetings. Whatever decision had been reached, it was significant enough to warrant the family's core leadership.

"Sit," your father said without preamble.

You took the chair across from his desk, smoothing your skirt with practiced composure. The heavy silence told you everything before a word was spoken.

"Hamilton has made a formal offer," your father finally said, gesturing to a folder on his desk. "The terms are... substantial."

"I'm sure they are," you replied evenly. "Since I'm such a valuable asset."

Your father's eyes narrowed slightly. "This isn't the time for attitude. This is business."

"It's my life, Papa."

"It's both," your mother interjected softly. "Which is why we want to know your thoughts before proceeding."

This was unexpected. Your father rarely solicited your opinion on family matters, let alone ones that involved strategic alliances.

"My thoughts?" you echoed, careful to keep the surprise from your voice.

Your father leaned forward. "Hamilton specifically requested your consent be part of the agreement. Said he has no interest in an unwilling partner." A flicker of annoyance crossed his features. "Very modern of him."

That explained it. Your opinion wasn't being sought out of respect for your autonomy but because Hamilton had made it a condition. Interesting that he'd actually followed through on the choice he'd offered you last night.

"So if I said no, this deal wouldn't proceed?" You tested the boundaries of this supposed freedom.

Uncle Paolo scoffed. "Let's not be dramatic. The alliance has significant benefits for both families. Hamilton is simply being... diplomatic."

Translation: Your consent was expected regardless of how it was framed.

"What exactly are the terms?" you asked, redirecting to practical matters.

Your father pushed the folder toward you. "Marriage within the month. You would relocate to London initially, though Hamilton maintains properties in several countries. Your trust fund remains independently yours, with additional provisions from both families."

You opened the folder, scanning the documents inside. Legal language camouflaged what was essentially the transfer of partial ownership of you from one man to another, albeit with surprisingly favorable conditions. Hamilton had negotiated for your financial independence and included provisions for your continued education if desired—details most traditional suitors wouldn't have bothered with.

"And the business arrangements?" you asked, knowing that was the true heart of the agreement.

"Access to his distribution networks in Europe. Technology integration for our financial operations. Weapons procurement without the usual middlemen." Your father couldn't hide the satisfaction in his voice. "In exchange for our established routes in North America and our political connections."

"Hamilton also has legitimate businesses that could help launder our more... problematic income streams," Uncle Paolo added. "Very sophisticated setups. Even the feds haven't been able to crack them."

You continued reading, noting the careful delineation of territories and responsibilities. Unlike most alliance agreements you'd seen, this one didn't simply absorb one organization into the other. It created distinct spheres of influence with clear boundaries.

"And the Bianchis? The Suarez family? How are they taking this?" you asked, thinking of the men who had watched you at the restaurant last night.

Your father's expression darkened. "Not well. Lorenzo Bianchi has been particularly vocal about his... disappointment."

"That's why we need to move quickly," Uncle Paolo interjected. "The longer this drags out, the more opportunity for interference."

"Interference," you repeated. "You mean attempts to kill Hamilton? Or me? Or both?"

"Don't be dramatic," your father snapped, but the tightness around his eyes confirmed your suspicions. "Appropriate security measures will be in place."

"Including Hamilton's own people," your mother added. "He's sent two advance team members who arrived this morning."

That explained the unfamiliar faces you'd glimpsed patrolling the grounds. Hamilton was already moving pieces into position, securing his investment.

"So it's decided then," you said, closing the folder. "I'm to be Mrs. Hamilton by the end of the month."

"Not if you truly object," your mother said, earning a sharp glance from your father. "Lewis was quite clear about that condition."

You studied your mother's face, wondering if she actually believed you had a choice or was simply playing her role in this carefully choreographed negotiation. Either way, the question remained: did you want to object?

Hamilton was dangerous, certainly. But so were all the men in your world, including your father. At least Hamilton seemed to value your mind alongside your family connections. And despite the age gap, he was undeniably intriguing in ways that Lorenzo Bianchi and Raúl Suarez could never be.

"I don't object," you finally said. "But I'd like to speak with Hamilton again before anything is finalized. Alone."

Your father's eyebrows rose. "That's not traditional."

"Neither is he," you countered. "If I'm going to bind my life to his, I want to be clear about certain... expectations."

Uncle Paolo looked scandalized, but your mother nodded slightly, understanding passing between you. Every marriage in your world involved unspoken rules and boundaries. Better to establish them early than discover incompatibilities too late.

"Fine," your father conceded. "He's coming here tonight to discuss final arrangements. You can have thirty minutes with him beforehand."

"An hour," you negotiated automatically. "And in the garden, not the house."

A flash of irritation crossed your father's face, but to your surprise, he nodded. "You're already taking after him. Negotiating everything."

You accepted this as the backhanded compliment it was intended to be. "What time?"

"Eight o'clock. Don't be late." Your father turned his attention to other papers on his desk, a clear dismissal.

As you rose to leave, your mother followed you out, closing the study door behind her.

"A word," she said quietly, guiding you toward her private sitting room where conversations couldn't be overheard.

Once inside with the door secured, she turned to you with an expression more candid than she usually allowed herself.

"You should know that your father has additional expectations from this union that aren't in the formal agreement," she said without preamble.

"Let me guess. Grandchildren." It wasn't a question.

Your mother nodded. "Within the first two years of marriage. He sees Hamilton's bloodline as... advantageous for the family's future."

You couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped you. "Of course. Not only am I being traded like a thoroughbred, I'm expected to breed like one too."

"That's the reality of our world," your mother said, not unkindly. "I just wanted you to be prepared when the subject arises."

"Is that what happened with you and Papa? Was a baby part of the merger agreement?"

Your mother's expression softened slightly. "Yes. Though in our case, we were fortunate enough to develop genuine feelings before you were born." She touched your cheek gently. "I hope the same for you, whatever you may think of the arrangement now."

You leaned into her touch briefly before pulling away. "Did Hamilton agree to this... breeding schedule?"

"It wasn't presented to him directly. Your father considers it a family matter, not a negotiation point."

"How convenient," you muttered. "Anything else I should know before I'm shipped off to London?"

Your mother hesitated, then said, "Hamilton has a reputation for certain... tastes. Nothing concerning," she added quickly, seeing your expression. "Just... particular."

"What kind of particular?" You weren't naive about what happened in bedrooms, but your experience was admittedly limited—a college boyfriend your father had eventually scared away, and a brief affair with an Italian businessman that had fizzled when you realized he was more interested in your family connections than you.

"Controlled. Dominant." Your mother chose her words carefully. "But not cruel, from what I understand. Unlike some in our circle." The unspoken reference to men like Raúl Suarez hung in the air.

"Wonderful," you said dryly. "I'm to be the obedient wife in the boardroom and the bedroom."

"Not necessarily." Your mother's tone suggested she knew more than she was saying. "Just... be prepared to discuss boundaries clearly. Men like Hamilton respect directness more than they let on."

The conversation left you with more questions than answers, but at least you were forewarned. As you headed back to your room to prepare for the evening's meeting, your mind raced with everything you wanted to establish before signing your life away.

********************************************

The garden at dusk held a particular magic, the fading light softening the carefully manicured grounds of the estate. You'd chosen this setting deliberately—outside the confines of the house, away from listening ears and watchful eyes, but still within the secure perimeter of the property.

You wore a simple wrap dress, casual enough to suggest this wasn't a formal negotiation but elegant enough to maintain the upper hand. Your hair hung loose around your shoulders, a small rebellion against your father's preference for the sleek, controlled styles he considered appropriate for business meetings.

At precisely eight o'clock, you heard footsteps on the stone path. Lewis Hamilton moved with that same contained grace you'd noticed at dinner, his attention seemingly casual but missing nothing as he scanned the garden. He wore dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to reveal more of the intricate tattoos on his forearms. Less formal than yesterday, but no less commanding.

"Ms. Ricci," he greeted you, those dark eyes taking in your appearance with that same assessing gaze. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."

"I'm the one who requested it," you reminded him, gesturing to the bench beside the rose trellis. "Please, sit."

He complied, maintaining a respectful distance as you settled beside him. The evening air carried the scent of late summer blooms and the faint spice of his cologne.

"I understand congratulations are in order," he said, those eyes never leaving your face. "Your father has accepted my proposal."

"With the condition of my consent," you noted. "Which was an interesting stipulation to include."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I don't believe in forced partnerships. They tend to... malfunction at critical moments."

"How pragmatic of you."

"I'm a pragmatic man." He leaned back slightly, one arm extending along the back of the bench though he didn't touch you. "I assume you have questions or concerns you wanted to address privately."

"Several," you confirmed. "Starting with what happens after the wedding. You mentioned London?"

He nodded. "Initially. I maintain a residence there, another in Amsterdam, properties in several other locations. I thought we might begin in London while you acclimate to the arrangement, then discuss preferences."

"And my involvement in the business?"

Something like approval flickered across his features. "That depends on your interests and aptitudes. From our dinner conversation, I gather you have significant insights into modernization opportunities. I'd welcome your input in those areas, to start."

"To start," you repeated. "With the possibility of expansion."

"Precisely." He studied you for a moment. "You seem surprised."

"Most men in your position view wives as decorative accessories, not business partners."

"Most men in my position are shortsighted," he replied simply. "I prefer to utilize all available resources effectively."

"Is that what I am? A resource?" You kept your tone neutral despite the provocation.

That slight smile appeared again. "We all are, in different contexts. The question is whether we're valued appropriately for what we bring to the table."

It was a fair point, if somewhat coldly phrased. "And what exactly do you think I bring to the table, Mr. Hamilton?"

"Intelligence. Strategic thinking. Social connections my organization currently lacks in certain circles. Perspective from a different generation." His assessment was calm, matter-of-fact. "And of course, the Ricci family alliance, which opens doors that would otherwise remain closed to me."

"That's quite a list." You weren't sure whether to be flattered or offended by his inventory of your attributes. "And what about the personal aspects of this arrangement? I assume you've considered those as well."

"Of course." If your directness surprised him, he didn't show it. "Marriage typically involves certain... intimacies."

"Is that what we're calling it?" you asked dryly. "Intimacies?"

For the first time, a genuine smile broke through his controlled expression. "What would you prefer to call it? Fucking? Sleeping together? Making heirs for our respective families?"

The crude language from his cultured British accent was jarring, but not unwelcome. At least he wasn't treating you like some delicate flower who'd wilt at plain speaking.

"All of the above, apparently," you replied, matching his bluntness. "My father expects grandchildren within two years, though he didn't include that in the formal agreement."

Hamilton's eyebrow rose slightly. "Interesting that he'd leave such an important detail out of the negotiations."

"He considers it a family matter, not a business point."

"When in fact it's both," Hamilton observed. His gaze turned more assessing. "And how do you feel about this... breeding arrangement?"

The crass term made you wince, though it accurately described your father's approach. "I haven't decided. Children weren't in my immediate plans, but I always assumed they'd be part of my future eventually."

"Regardless of your father's timeline, that particular aspect would be between us," Hamilton said firmly. "Not subject to external schedules."

The clear boundary he established around your shared decisions versus family expectations was unexpectedly reassuring. "And the... physical aspects of marriage in general? What are your expectations there?"

Hamilton considered you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "I expect mutual respect and clear communication about boundaries and preferences. I don't believe in coercion of any kind, but I do value honesty."

"That's very diplomatic," you noted. "But not very specific."

"Would you prefer specifics?" he asked, that dangerous edge suddenly more apparent beneath his controlled exterior. "I can be quite direct, Ms. Ricci, but most find it... uncomfortable."

"I'm not most people," you countered. "And if we're to be married, I think I deserve to know what I'm agreeing to."

A brief nod acknowledged your point. "Very well. I enjoy control—giving it completely in business settings tends to make one appreciate having it in private ones. I prefer partners who understand the value of clearly defined roles and boundaries." His gaze was unwavering. "I don't believe in ownership or subjugation, but I do expect a certain level of... deference in intimate settings."

The frankness of his assessment sent an unexpected heat through you that you hoped wasn't visible in the fading light. "And if that arrangement doesn't appeal to me?"

"Then we negotiate alternatives," he replied simply. "As I said, coercion has no place in my world. But I've found that compatibility in these matters tends to reveal itself naturally, given time and trust."

The conversation should have been mortifying—discussing sexual dynamics with a virtual stranger who might soon be your husband. Instead, you found his directness refreshing after a lifetime of veiled implications and unspoken expectations.

"Any other concerns you wish to address?" he asked, seeming entirely comfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

"Freedom of movement," you said, returning to practical matters. "My father keeps me under constant surveillance for 'protection.' Would I be exchanging one form of confinement for another?"

"Security is necessary in our world," Hamilton acknowledged. "But I don't believe in cages, golden or otherwise. With appropriate measures in place, you would be free to pursue your own interests, travel within reason, maintain your own social connections."

"Within reason," you repeated. "And who defines what's reasonable?"

"We would—together. Based on security assessments and legitimate risk factors, not arbitrary restrictions." His tone suggested this was non-negotiable. "I won't apologize for prioritizing your safety, but I have no interest in controlling your every movement."

It was a fair compromise, better than you'd expected and certainly better than your current situation. "And fidelity? What are your expectations there?"

"Absolute," he replied without hesitation. "On both sides. Anything else introduces unnecessary vulnerabilities and complications."

"At least we agree on something," you said, surprising yourself with the admission. Infidelity was common in your world—your father had kept mistresses over the years despite his genuine love for your mother—but you'd always found it distasteful and dangerous.

"We'll likely agree on more than you expect," Hamilton said, his voice softening slightly. "This arrangement may be unconventional in its origins, but that doesn't mean it can't evolve into something mutually beneficial on multiple levels."

The diplomatic phrasing couldn't quite disguise what sounded dangerously close to optimism about your potential relationship. You weren't sure what to make of that.

"One last question," you said, aware that your allotted time was nearly up. "Why me, really? Beyond the business advantages and family connections. You could have pursued alliances with a dozen other families, many with more extensive operations than ours. Why choose the Ricci family? Why choose me?"

Hamilton was quiet for a moment, considering his answer carefully. When he spoke, his voice held a different quality than before—less measured, more genuine.

"Your family's operation is smaller than some, yes, but more adaptable. Old enough to have established roots but not so entrenched that evolution is impossible." His eyes held yours steadily. "As for you specifically... I make decisions based on careful assessment of potential and compatibility. You possess qualities I consider valuable—intelligence, adaptability, strategic thinking, resilience."

"You gleaned all that from one dinner and a brief meeting at my father's house?" Your skepticism was evident.

"I've been researching your family for months," he admitted without apology. "You specifically for weeks. The dinner merely confirmed what my investigation suggested."

The revelation shouldn't have surprised you, yet somehow it did. "That's... thorough."

"I don't leave important decisions to chance or superficial impressions." His gaze was unwavering. "Marriage is a significant commitment, even when it's primarily strategic."

Before you could respond, the garden lights activated automatically with the deepening dusk, illuminating the space around you. In the sudden brightness, you could see Hamilton more clearly—the precise lines of his face, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle pattern of the tattoo visible at his collar.

"Our time is nearly up," he observed. "Your father will be expecting me in the study."

"Yes," you agreed, oddly reluctant to end the conversation. "I suppose he will."

Hamilton rose, offering his hand to help you up. You took it, noting the controlled strength in his grip, the warmth of his palm against yours. He held on a moment longer than necessary, his eyes searching yours.

"Have I addressed your concerns adequately, Ms. Ricci?" he asked, his voice pitched low enough that only you could hear it. "Or do you have objections to proceeding?"

The question echoed the one from last night—again offering you a choice, or at least the illusion of one. You considered your options realistically. Refusing would create chaos in the family, potentially trigger violence from rejected suitors, and leave you back where you started—under your father's thumb, awaiting the next strategic match.

Accepting meant embarking on a life with a dangerous, controlled man who nonetheless seemed to see you as more than a decorative accessory or breeding stock. A man who, despite the age gap and cultural differences, offered something resembling partnership rather than ownership.

"No objections," you said finally. "Though I reserve the right to revisit these discussions as needed."

Something like satisfaction crossed his features. "I would expect nothing less." He released your hand slowly. "Shall we join your father?"

As you walked together toward the house, you were acutely aware of the weight of the decision you'd just made. Within weeks, you would be bound to this man—leaving behind the familiar constraints of your father's house for the unknown territory of marriage to Lewis Hamilton.

Whether that represented freedom or simply a different form of captivity remained to be seen. But for the first time in years, you felt something dangerously close to hope about your future.

"One last thing," Hamilton said as you reached the terrace doors. "Once we're married, I'd prefer you call me Lewis. 'Mr. Hamilton' seems excessively formal for a wife, don't you think?"

The request was so unexpectedly ordinary after the intensity of your conversation that you couldn't help a small, genuine smile. "I'll consider it... Lewis."

His name felt strange on your tongue, intimate in a way that caught you off guard. The slight widening of his eyes suggested he felt it too—this small shift from formal negotiation toward something more personal.

Without another word, he opened the door for you, and together you stepped back into the house to finalize the arrangement that would bind your lives together—for better or worse.

…….tbd

#quainwritings #lewis hamilton x black oc #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton #au lewis hamilton fic #mob!lewis hamilton #mob!boss lewis hamilton #blood oath quainstory #quain’s masterlist #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader

445 notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Text

Birdritch what? Part 7

masterpost

It was warm.

That was the first thing that Danny noticed as he started to wake.

Danny didn’t sleep warm. Too often if it was too warm, Danny would wake up and have to push aside layers of bedding or shed clothing. Cooling sheets, heat wicking pillow, and light pajamas was the way for Danny to sleep best. He felt oddly rested despite the heat.

It was also heavy.

That was the second thing that Danny noticed.

Maybe he fell asleep with the weighted blanket on the couch?

Except that didn’t feel right.

His couch wasn’t that firm. His couch didn’t snore and his weighted blanket didn’t have arms. Yeah, okay, yep. Someone definitely had their arms wrapped around Danny, tucking him close to their very well defined chest and under their chin. Someone else, a much smaller someone, was tucked close to Danny’s elbow and breathing softly.

What the fuck did he get up to last night?

And why couldn’t he remember any of it?

Someone else mumbled something sleepily. That was three at least, four counting him. Maybe five with the soft, breathy snore? Danny stayed as still as possible and tried to mentally retrace his steps.

He had been at work. Right, Lucius had sent him home since it had gotten late. Danny had gotten food and headed home. He must have gone through Ivy’s park, it would have been the closest way…

…and that’s all.

He couldn’t remember anything after that.

There were flashes of fear and burning lungs and that deep-seated need protect, but over all of that there was a sense of belonging. No, belonging was quite the right word. It was less that he had belonged but more like he had found the missing pieces that had belonged to him.

As much as the snatches of feelings were coated with good, Danny couldn’t help the panic that settled in his chest. He didn’t remember. He should remember, being what he was. Why didn’t he remember? Why hadn’t he just gone ghost? Why did his bones ache like he had gone ghost? If he had he should remember.

Fuck, what sort of rogue shit had he gotten dosed with in the park?

The hand on his chest pressed down purposefully.

“Breathe.” The voice was low and rough, heavily with sleep over a deep gravely timber.

Danny wanted to say that he was trying to breathe, thank you very much whoever the fuck you are, but all that came out was a little wheeze of air.

“Okay. Here’s my other hand. One squeeze for yes, two for no.”

A large, calloused hand slipped into Danny’s, twining with his own scarred and bandaged fingers. Danny gave the hand a squeeze.

“Has this happened to you before?”

One squeeze.

“Often?”

Two.

“Is this an allergic response?”

Two quick squeezes.

“Asthma?”

Danny hesitated before giving three squeezes. He could hear other people starting to stir now, but kept his eyes stubbornly closed. He wasn’t ready to actually deal with the people he had fallen asleep with. Besides, it was hard to hear over the beat of his own heart.

“…No, or more, not yet?”

One firm squeeze.

“Panic or anxiety attack then?”

One hesitant, embarrassed squeeze.

“Alright. I am going to sit us up. Lean back against me and follow my breathing.”

Danny tried not to whimper as he was shifted. He failed.

“I’ll get a damp towel,” another voice offered quietly.

Fuck towels, Danny wanted his pain meds. He must have not taken them last night and now everything was stiff and tight. Forget breathing, Danny just wanted to stay curled up in the blanket and not move. Maybe everyone else would leave wherever they were and Danny could just go ghost and slip out of there without dealing with any of this.

“Relax,” the low voice rumbled.

Danny would have cussed them out if he had the voice to.

The board chest that Danny was resting against took an exaggerated breath. Danny struggled to try and follow it. It didn’t seem like he was getting out of breathing, damn it. An ice cold cloth suddenly pressed against his neck, startling Danny enough to suck in a breath of air.

“There, keep that up,” the main voice instructed.

Danny pinched the fingers still closed gently around his in retaliation.

Someone else, more feminine sounding, laughed while the person behind him let out a slightly amused huff. “I know you know. Now your body just needs to know.”

Danny pinched them again, though to their credit they didn’t pull away their hand. Which was… sorta nice. As much as Danny was sulking about it all, the comfort of a hand in his was nice. The calloused thumb rubbed gently over that web of skin between Danny’s thumb and pointer fingers in a pattern that Danny worked to match his breath to. Finally Danny figured he needed to brave opening his eyes.

He wasn’t in a hotel.

Or an apartment.

Or any sort of room.

No, he was in a cave. As suspiciously well furnished cave completely with a grouping of vigilantes watching him curiously.

“Well, at least it wasn’t an orgy,” Danny grumbled.

He heard someone trip further into the cave.

#dp x dc #spirit halloween ship #birdritch

2K notes · View notes

winter-parrot · 21 days ago

Text

for @911whatisyourpride week 3: family. took this prompt a little sideways but the idea hit me like a truck like two hours ago and then i typed this entire ficlet directly into the tumblr post dialog like a madwoman, so.

buck doesn't exactly try to adopt a dog, and fails anyway. tommy picks up a dog and an (ex?)-boyfriend. | bucktommy (duh) | post season-8 | 2.4k

now on ao3!

------------

Buck keeps thinking about Blaze. Not Bingo, who went back to his family and is probably spoiled and happy and exactly where he belongs. But Blaze, whom for that single day had belonged to Buck. Who had been a friend when he and Eddie were on the outs, and everything was falling apart, and he had nobody to talk to because everyone thought he was overreacting. Someone who was happy to see him, who looked at him adoringly, who took joy from Buck's mere existence and gave joy in return.

Now, his life is a hundred times the mess that it was back then, but the parallels aren't escaping him.

And yeah, yeah, he's always got Maddie. But she's not his, not really; she's got more important people in her life. Her own family. Chimney, and Jee, and newborn baby Robert-who-he-still-cannot-call-Bobby. Chim's got her and Jee and Robert, in return. Eddie's got Chris, and Tia Pepa. Hen's got Karen and Denny and Mara too, now. Athena's got May and Harry, and anyway he's not going to impose on her, not now, not after everything.

Point is, everyone's got someone who's theirs. Everyone except him, that is. For a minute there he thought he might have Tommy, but well. Shows you how much he knows about love, about building a family.

So instead he's sitting all alone--in a shitty little Airbnb he's got for the week, because apartment hunting in LA is anything but fast--thinking about Blaze. And looking up dog rescues, just to dream about holding them all, and bringing one home, and having someone to greet him and be excited to see him when he gets home.

He knows it's pathetic--knew it even then, when he was clinging to Blaze and ignoring Eddie--but the one thing more pathetic than having a dog for your only friend and source of love, is having no one for a friend and source of love. Although, dreaming about having a dog for his only friend and source of love, when he can't even get a dog because he doesn't have a home address and anywhere with a pet deposit is going to be way out of his price range, is probably more pathetic than both.

The thought doesn't stop him from scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling past the little squares of photos and blurbs. There's a five-year-old beagle named Dot that reminds him a little too painfully of Blaze. A six-month-old mutt of a puppy--they think it's maybe a boxer mix--with bright blue eyes called Frankie. A massive ninety-pound Doberman named Sergeant with a noble air to him--and behaviour problems, apparently. A tiny yorkie, by far the teey-tiniest dog he's ever seen, called Mini.

And then, at the bottom, a raggedy three-legged lab mix called Tres. He's the longest-running resident of the shelter, according to his bio. Lost his leg in an accident, while wandering in the streets. Seven years old, old enough to have trouble being adopted even without the missing leg. He's also got the biggest, most soulful brown eyes Buck's ever seen on a dog. Ever seen period, maybe.

Before he quite realizes what he's doing, Buck has the address memorized and the keys to his Jeep in his hand. No, that's not entirely true. He sort of halfway realizes what he's doing, but refuses to let himself recognize it all the way. Because if he did, then he'd have to acknowledge that it's insane, and then he'd have nothing to do but sit there and think about how pathetic he is, and how sad Tres looked in the photos.

The shelter is almost halfway across the city, because he wasn't exactly paying attention to the location when he started down this impromptu spiral. But that's alright; he's on day one of a four off, so he's got the time to kill. It's early enough, too, so traffic won't even be that bad. (He Does Not think about why he was up so early on his day off. That way lies grief and pain and danger, and he does not want to end up accidentally wrapping his car around a power pole.)

Still, this is LA, and "not that bad" ends up being nearly an hour instead. Plenty of time to think about what the hell he's doing, and all the million reasons it's a stupid, impulsive idea. But he's started this already, going Full Buck as they'd say, and he's determined not to turn back. Maybe he can't take Tres home, doesn't even have a home to take Tres to, but that doesn't mean he can't go see the dog, right? Maybe he can't be enough for anyone in his life, can't make them happy or hold them together, but surely he can be a bright spot in one sad dog's day. He can be good for this one thing.

The shelter's open, but just barely, when he gets there. No cars in the tiny parking lot, thank God, because most sane people don't show up to animal shelters at--he checks his phone--8:17 in the morning. The tiny bells above the door chime a happy little chorus as he walks in. A woman behind the front desk looks up, seeming startled to see him there. Fair enough.

"Hi, u-um, I saw this dog on your website?" Buck says, uncertainty tilting his sentence up into a question.

"Are you looking to adopt?" the woman--Miranda, according to the name tag Buck's now close enough to read--asks, already rummaging for some forms.

"U-um, not-not yet. I don't, um, I don't currently have a pet-friendly place," Buck says. He doesn't have any place, of course, but that's a lot to unload on this poor woman at barely eight in the morning. "B-but, um, but I'd like to someday. When I'm in a- a better place." Winces at the phrasing; apparently he's so chock full of death euphemisms these days, it's leaking out everywhere. "I just, um, I just wanted to see the dog for now? Maybe play wit him for a bit, if-if that's something I can do?"

Miranda looks at him for a long moment. It feels, oddly, like the way Bobby used to look at him. Piercing and uncompromising, but not unkind. Like she was looking at him, really looking, past his shell and right down to the core of him--not to judge, or find him wanting, but just to see. To understand. To maybe even help. The moment stretches like gum, and Buck's not even sure he's breathing. Not until she nods once, sharply, and says, "What was his name? The dog you were looking at?"

"U-um, Tres," Buck says, somehow surprised by this turn of events despite literally showing up here for it. "I was looking at Tres."

Miranda's face turns apologetic. "Oh hon, someone already put in yestereday to adopt him."

Something inside Buck stretches past breaking point, snaps into overstretched pieces. Of course he can't even do this right. Too late and not enough. Forces his lips into a smile that feels far too brittle for how practiced it's become, these past few weeks. "R-right. Okay. That's, that's good for him, right? G-going home to someone who can love him." Love him better than Buck ever could. Who probably has a yard for Tres to play around in, and a cozy fireplace for Tres to curl up in front off, with a fluffy dog bed all set up and waiting.

Miranda nods, but she seems distracted, chewing at her lip. Looks down at her desk. Shuffles through some papers, looking for something. Squints down at one sheet, running her fingers along the lines. "Pick up time, pick up time... ah! Yeah, that's what I thought." She looks up at him, still holding the paper in her hand. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy--the people who come here for the saddest dogs usually are. You can see other dogs, of course, whichever ones you want. But if you've got your heart set on Tres, The owner's out back right now, picking up Tres and his stuff. I can go and ask if he'd be okay with you at least say hi to Tres."

Buck nods, mumbles out a thanks that may or may not come out intelligible past the growing knot in his throat. He can't explain it, why meeting Tres feels so important. Maybe it's because he felt like they were kindred souls, in some terribly pathetic way, forgotten and left behind and waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to finally want him. Maybe it's because he thought that he could save someone, even just one sad dog, from the terrible loneliness eating him up from the inside--and be saved in return. Maybe he just wanted to be good for something, anything, and this was the one tiny thing that felt maybe, possibly, within his reach.

Or maybe he was just a sucker for a sob story and big sad eyes and abandoned dogs. It doesn't have to be that deep.

Miranda pops her head in from the back door where she'd disappeared to. "He said yes, of course. Come on and meet Tres. It'd be good for his socialization anyway, to meet some more people."

Well. At least this whole insane trip wasn't a total loss, then. He can go meet Tres and his new owner, play with a dog for a few minutes, and then drive back to his sad Airbnb so he can keep searching apartment listings. Buck makes his way across the lobby, towards the door that Miranda's holding open. Ducks out through the gap. Steps into a little back yard, lined with straggly grass and patches of sand. Looks around for Tres.

Finds himself looking at familiar blue eyes, instead.

"Evan?" Tommy says, staring right back at him like he's seeing a ghost. His eyes are wide, and so blue, and rimmed faintly red with exhaustion. Buck's pretty sure there's new lines in their corners, stupidly wants to reach out a run a gentle finger over them, to learn their new shapes. Clenches his hands into fists in his pockets to stop himself.

"T-tommy," he says, more breath than word. Has to swallow twice and clear his throat awkwardly before he tries again. "Hey. I, uh, I didn't know you were in the market for a dog."

Tommy shrugs, a little awkward. Something about the motion somehow makes those strong, wide shoulders seem small. "House was feeling too quiet. Thought a dog might help liven things up. Plus, I've always been weak for the puppy eyes." The last sentence comes out with the weight of a confession, too heavy for the back yard of an animal shelter with a soon-to-be-spoiled three-legged dog sniffing around by their feet.

Buck makes his lips curl up at the corner, pretends he doesn't notice it feels more like a grimace than a smile. "You've got good taste," he says, jerking his chin towards Tres. "I had my eyes on him this morning, too."

"Sorry," Tommy says, and it feels like he's talking about more than the dog. "Didn't mean to steal him from you."

It's Buck's turn to shrug, this time. He tries not to think about other things Tommy's stolen, not from him but for him. Tries to hold on to the fading memory of how he felt that sun-drenched morning in Eddie's kitchen, in that helicopter still full of hope over the LA skyline. Tommy's going to be good to Tres. Buck knows, because he was good to him, too. Besides, Tommy's got a solid house, big back yard and a fireplace just like he'd been picturing.

Buck's got no house, and no dog, and no one to go home to. He leans down to pet Tres instead of thinking about that. Lets Tres lick his face and slobber all over him. Pretends that's why dampness weighs down his lashes.

"I was just gonna take him home, get him settled in," Tommy says above him, after a few prolonged minutes of silence.

Buck get up, because he does know how to take a hint, sometimes. Time to get out of Tommy's hair, let him take home the dog he wants without the ex-boyfriend he didn't want. Doesn't meet Tommy's eyes as he turns to leave, because even he's got a limit for how pathetic he's willing to be in one day.

"Do you want to come with me?" Tommy says, the words uncharacteristically rushed.

Buck looks up with surprise. Tommy's got a hand rubbing against the back of his neck in a gesture Buck hasn't seen in ages.

"D-do you want me to?" Buck says. Tries not to feel like he's asking about more than just Tres. Fails. It's like they're having a whole second conversation--except they're not, because they haven't said more than maybe fifty words to each other and neither of them are actually saying it. So maybe it's all in Buck's head; maybe he's gotten so desperate that he's reading signs into innocent

Tommy's wide-eyed again, breathing a little fast and shallow. For a second, he looks almost panicked. Doesn't quite look at Buck as he reaches down to clip a leash onto Tres's collar, and lingers to pet down the line of Tres's spine with a huge hand.

When he stands back up, something in him has straightened. He's steady, looking Buck straight in the eyes as he nods firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I want you to come home with me." Glances down at his feet, where Tres is sitting patiently with his tongue rolling out. "You and me and Tres."

They're still not talking, not really. Not about the them of it all But it's the closest they've come since the helicopter--no, since before that. Since that morning, maybe.

It feels like an invitation. Like a closed door, reopened. Like a second, third, fifth chance at something.

Buck leans down to give Tres one last pat--for luck, for hope, for gratitude, for courage. He takes the hand Tommy opens to him. Him and Tommy and Tres. It feels like a good place to start.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fic #911 fic #911 #911whatisyourpride #my fics #9-1-1 #this is SO LATE for this week too #but it's not midnight yet!!!! (just barely)#anyway i said '1k' at the top of this thing when i started writing it #like a hopelessly optimistic idiot #in my mind they go home and actually fucking talk #and buck moves in to tommy's spare room so they can co-parent a dog together #before they're even together-together #but they get their shit together eventually #and buck moves in probably instead of pretending he's just a prolonged guest camping out in the spare room #and they live happily ever after with tres and like three kids the end #i ain't got time to write all that though #this is all i got for tonight #i was supposed to do so many other thing sintsead of write a fic for two hours #i will pretend i'm gonna clean this up someday later #bc otherwise i'll lose my mind over posting this

331 notes · View notes

izzih22 · 2 months ago

Note

Heyy, would you write a fic based on this interview that paige and Azzi did:

"Wow, I didn't think about that," Fudd said Friday.

"I had not thought about that part because I'm just super-excited to play in the tournament. I know Paige has been on me because I've been, a couple of times, relying on her. If my shot is not falling I can take a step back and Paige will take care of it. She's been on me to not let that happen. She's like, 'These are our last few games together regardless of what happens. There won't be more. I want to see you play well.' She's been challenging me to step up and be more aggressive with her."

"I don't ever want her to defer," Bueckers said. "I want her to think, 'I've got this.' We want her to be her best, aggressive self. Don't defer, don't necessarily look to pass, look to score and do it every time she touches the ball. That opens everything else up for our team."

Don’t Defer

Note: hope y’all like it!!

They were the last ones on the court.

The rest of the team had cleared out an hour ago, the lights in the practice facility dimmed except for the ones directly over the main court. The echo of bouncing balls and squeaking shoes had long faded, replaced by quiet.

Azzi sat on the hardwood, legs splayed out in front of her, gently rolling her ankle with one hand and staring at the opposite basket. Paige stood a few feet away, dribbling lazily between her legs, glancing at her every so often.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Azzi could feel it. The weight of it. The end creeping closer. Whether it was a week away or three, they both knew — this was it. The last tournament run. The last bus rides. The last post-practice meals. The last of this version of them.

The air between them had been different all week. Charged. Not bad. Just… more.

“I was watching film,” Paige said, still dribbling.

Azzi blinked, then turned her head slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi didn’t ask what film. She already knew.

Paige hesitated. “You passed up four shots in the first half against Marquette.”

Azzi sighed and leaned her head back onto the floor. “Here we go.”

“No, really.” Paige stopped dribbling and walked toward her, the ball thudding against her hip. “Four clean looks. You made the right pass, technically. But we didn’t need the right pass. We needed you.”

Azzi closed her eyes. “My shot wasn’t falling.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Exactly.” Paige dropped the ball and it rolled away. She crouched down beside her, hands on her knees, staring down at her girlfriend. “You’re in your head before the ball even hits your fingers. And you know it.”

Azzi didn’t move, but her throat tightened. She hated how well Paige could read her. Sometimes she wished she couldn’t.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Azzi said quietly.

Paige sank the rest of the way down, sitting cross-legged next to her. Her voice softened. “You think passing up open shots is how you protect people? Because it’s not.”

Azzi let the silence stretch again, but Paige didn’t fill it. She just waited.

Finally, Azzi turned her head toward her. “What if I miss?”

“Then you miss.” Paige shrugged. “You miss, and we get back on defense. But if you don’t even try? That’s worse.”

The lights buzzed faintly above them.

“I’m not trying to shrink,” Azzi whispered. “It just happens.”

“I know,” Paige said. And then, after a beat, “But I also know you. You want this. You’ve been working for this your whole life. So stop playing scared.”

Azzi’s eyes burned. Not because Paige was being harsh, but because she wasn’t. She was being honest. Raw, real, and deeply present in a way she only ever was with her.

Paige reached out and tugged gently at the sleeve of Azzi’s shooting shirt. “Hey.”

Azzi looked at her.

“These are our last few games,” Paige said, voice low. “No matter what happens. I don’t want to look back and think we didn’t give everything. That you didn’t.”

Azzi swallowed hard. “I just… it’s easier when I know you’re there to take over.”

“That’s not the point,” Paige said, touching her hand now. “We’re at our best when you take over. When you stop deferring and just… go.”

There was something else behind her voice, something Azzi couldn’t name right away — not frustration or urgency, but something heavier. Sadder.

She sat up slowly. “You’re scared too.”

Paige blinked.

Azzi searched her face. “You don’t want to say it, but I know you. You’re scared this is the end.”

Paige’s jaw flexed. “It is.”

Azzi shook her head. “Not for us.”

“Not for us,” Paige echoed. She took a breath. “But yeah. For this.”

The gym. The uniforms. The late-night ice baths and the early-morning walkthroughs. The feeling of walking onto the court next to the person who knew your game better than anyone else in the world.

“Promise me something,” Paige said quietly.

Azzi nodded.

“Play free tomorrow. I mean it. Don’t look for me, don’t defer, don’t hesitate. Just go. Go like it’s the last game of your life.”

Azzi’s throat tightened again. “Okay.”

“I want to see you do it. Really do it. I don’t care if you miss. I just want to see you trust yourself.”

Azzi looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Paige. “Only if you promise me something too.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t carry it all by yourself.”

Paige blinked.

“You’ve been doing that all year,” Azzi said. “Every game, every moment. You take it all on, like it’s your job to fix everything. But you don’t have to do it alone. Not with me here.”

Something in Paige’s expression cracked — not in a weak way, but in a vulnerable one. Like she’d been holding her breath for weeks, and finally someone noticed.

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft and uneven. “Deal.”

They stayed there for a while, the court quiet around them, the air warm with everything unsaid. It didn’t need to be said.

⸻

The next night, Azzi dropped 27 points.

She pulled up without hesitation, attacked without apology, and never once looked toward Paige for permission.

And Paige? She watched with pride, her chest aching in the best kind of way — the kind of ache you get when someone you love finally realizes how powerful they are.

Late in the third quarter, Azzi hit a step-back three that sent the bench into chaos. As the timeout buzzer rang, she jogged back toward the sideline, chest heaving.

Paige met her at half court, slapped her hand, and grinned.

“There she is.”

Azzi’s eyes sparkled as she grinned back. “Told you I got this.”

“You always did,” Paige said. “You just had to believe it.”

#pazzi fics #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #paige and azzi

237 notes · View notes

girllblogging777 · 1 month ago

Text

TOTAL RECALL ౨ৎ

IN WHICH you get to know your coworker spencer, and try to take him off guard with questions

“alright, we got a new case in LA,” you spoke up, entering the briefing room where the rest of the team was already sitting. the sound of your voice made them all look up, and you tried to appear as confident as you could, despite the way your hands were holding tightly onto some documents.

today was your first day as the communications liaison of the BAU, and as much time as you’d spent training with JJ before she went on maternity leave, handling your first case by yourself was quite pressuring.

especially when you were surrounded by people whose job is to decode body language. remembering this, you immediately tilted your head upwards and shoulders back, before beginning to explain the case.

“four girls under the age of 25 have been abducted in the past two months. including two this week,” you spoke, walking around the table to hand the files to all of your new colleagues.

one of the agents, a brown haired boy you’d previously seen around, asked as he took the documents from you.

“are they under or over 21 ? because the statistics are entirely different within this range,” he explained, the rest of the team not even budging as he began rambling.

“three years ago, women over 21 represented about 65 thousands of missing persons files - 64 thousands nine hundred and fifty six to be exact…”

the man sitting next to the technical analyst smirked at you when he noticed the look of bewilderment on your face. “don’t mind the pretty boy,” he chuckled “he’s our walking encyclopaedia”

⋆˚࿔

about an hour later, after some more debriefing, you and the rest of the team boarded the jet. you sat down next to the window, fingers drumming against your thigh before a voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“do you mind ?” the brunette (whose name you’d discovered was actually spencer) spoke, fingers pointing at the seat next to yours.

you shook your head, motioning for him to sit down next to you which he did, careful not to disturb your personal space.

the others were all busy talking to eachother, or reviewing the case while the plane took off, and you focused on the steady humming of the engine to distract you from the boy next to you.

“so, walking encyclopaedia, huh ?” you joked, echoing morgan’s words in attempt to get to know him a bit more. you were going to have to work together for a while, after all.

he turned to face you, his expression a bit sheepish.

“i just uh, have an… eidetic memory ?” he suggested, weighing each of his words, assuming that just like everyone else, you’d simply characterise him as a nerd and move on with it.

realising they were not joking about the extent of his intellect, you tilted your head. that was going to be interesting.

“oh, total recall ?”

“basically, yes.” he answered, and you noticed the slightest hint of a smile creeping up on his, now that you thought about it, very pretty face. “but unlike photographic memory, it includes auditory memories and other sensory aspects.”

“woah… so could ask you anything and you’d just know ?”

he wanted to tell you that this was not how it worked, that he could only remember things if he’d ever actually learnt them before. but the way you were leaning towards him and seemed genuinely interested made him want to keep appearing smart to you.

eventually, he realised that the conversation was taking a turn, and becoming a quizz. but spencer couldn’t blame you, that’s what people were usually prone to doing when they learnt about his memory. except this time, he actually was having fun.

“so, do you know like…” you looked around, trying to think of something to ask before your gaze dropped to the cereal bar in your bag. “how many granola bars are consumed every year ?”

a second. his lips pursed.

“about 808.5 million units. the global average of cereal bars consumers is 37%.”

your jaw almost dropped, you had to ask something else.

“and the current population of new zealand ?”

“5 millions two hundred and twenty three… that was two years ago” he answered so quickly that you almost wondered if you should look for an “off” button on his forehead.

“okay, that’s super impressive…” you said, shifting in your seat so you could face him. “i know it’s probably tough though, knowing everyone expects you to know everything and having to live up to their expectations…”

at that, his eyes darted down. he didn’t expect you to say that, especially since you were simply getting to know him. and yet, it felt like you saw right through him already.

“it can get a bit rough sometimes… especially when i feel like i’m not able to use my knowledge properly for a case and it just feels like… like i’m failing everyone.” he said, feeling strangely comfortable admitting this to you, even if you were the newest member here.

you simply nodded, wanting him to know you agreed.

“come on, you’re human. you may be smart, but of course you’re going to be taken off guard at some point.” your voice was light, and reassuring.

“it’s not like you’re gonna know the name of… i don’t know, the deadliest jellyfish in the world”

a chuckle escaped his lips and his chocolate eyes locked with yours. “chironex fleckeri ? commonly known as the sea wasp, or the box jellyfish,” he stated, “the venom can cause death within minutes”

yeah, you obviously still had a lot to learn about him. and about jellyfishes too, apparently.

342 notes · View notes

wcnderlnds · 1 month ago

Text

sober ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: seunghyun's way to deal with your breakup is to drink his feelings away so you have to come and save him from himself ・❥・word count: 1.7k ・❥・warnings: alcohol consumption, angst. ・❥・ authors note: this is track six for the MADE event which you can find here. i mostly focused on seunghyun's verse. i also haven't proofread because headache but <3

The breakup had happened barely three weeks ago. Everyone said with time it would get better but when would that happen? Everyday Seunghyun woke up with a weight in his chest, feeling like something was missing. It felt like there was a hole in his head, like he would never be whole again. He’d heard all the stories about how much heartbreak sucked, the pain that came with it but he had never believed it until the day you had left. Waking up to the empty space beside him in bed every morning brought a fresh wave of pain. It felt like he was drowning with no way to reach the surface.

Seunghyun had known you practically his whole life. It had started out as an innocent friendship but as the years passed by and you grew older, it blossomed into something more. Love was messy and complicated but with you it had always felt easy. Seunghyun thought you were the most beautiful person inside and out. Nobody had ever captured his heart like you had. Every smile in his direction, every laugh that was just for him, the way you had looked at him like he was the only person in the world – it made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Then the breakup happened.

His whole life had been falling apart and no matter how much you tried to be there for him, he had done the one thing he shouldn’t have and pushed you away. He hadn’t wanted to drag you down with him but in turn he had ended up losing you completely. The day you had broke up with him had been the worst day of his life. He had lost the one good thing in his life and blamed himself entirely.

Seunghyun knew it wasn’t the best way to deal with it but drinking numbed the pain. It was better than being sober because at least then he wasn’t haunted by his thoughts. Most of the time he opted to drink at home, having a few glasses of wine – TSpot, of course – just enough so he didn’t have to think about you. Not that really helped. You were always on his mind, it just made him feel lighter. Today, however, he had called Jiyong and asked if he wanted to go to their favourite bar. Never one to miss an opportunity to spend time with his best friend, Jiyong had immediately agreed.

So, that’s where they were. Sat at the bar, four shots in. Well, Seunghyun was. Jiyong had given up after two opting to move to beer instead. Seunghyun had ordered himself another couple of shots, downing them one after the other, his words slurred with every word he spoke. Jiyong sighed, patting his friend on the back as he talked about you. There was only one person who could help now. Jiyong excused himself for a moment to make the one phone call he had tried to avoid making.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It hadn’t been any easier on you. Leaving Seunghyun had been the single, hardest decision you’d ever made but there came a point where you had to put yourself first. No matter how hard you had tried, Seunghyun had kept shutting you out whether he realised it or not. The walls he’d built around himself were too strong, he was too scared of letting people in but you’d always assumed you’d be an exception to that. You were wrong. It got to a point where you couldn’t do it anymore even as much as you wanted to. Feeling like you couldn’t help the person you loved the most was one of the hardest, most painful things to go through. You felt useless because there wasn’t anything you could do. Nobody wanted to feel useless. It didn’t help that at that point, there wasn’t even much of a relationship. There were no date nights, no intimacy – Seunghyun had closed in on himself, not wanting to do anything with anyone. So, you had made the painful decision to end things. He had to fix himself first before your relationship could be fixed.

Your way of coping with losing your person was to cry yourself to sleep every night. Not that you got much sleep, it was hard to really sleep without Seunghyun by your side. He had been your comfort, your home for so long and now you didn’t have that, it felt like nothing had any meaning. But, you had to keep going on, no matter how hard it was. Even when Seunghyun had text you, called you, left you voicemails. That made it harder because you wanted to reach out, to tell him everything would be okay but you couldn’t. It was only when you got that call from Jiyong did you finally cave.

Seunghyun needed you.

As you stepped into the bar, the stench of alcohol and smoke hitting your senses, you scanned around the room to find Seunghyun hunched over at the bar, downing yet another shot. You sighed, feeling your heart skip a beat in your chest. Seeing him like this, so broken, so defeated; it broke your heart even more if that was possible. Your feet carried you towards him, silently sitting in the stool next to him. He turned his head slowly to face you, a stupid smile on his face, eyes glazed over.

“Jiyong, you’ve changed,” he giggled, laughing at his own joke. It took him a moment to really focus on you and when he did, his eyes widened, body stiffening. Were you really there or was he imagining you? It wouldn’t be the first time. He tried to act cool, his head resting on the hand that was propped up by his elbow on the bar.

“Seunghyun,” you spoke gently. Your hand reached out, hovering over his free one but you pulled back. “What are you doing?”

“Drinking,” he replied back shortly.

“I can see that,” your eyes scanned across the shot glasses scattered in front of him.

“Hmm,” he hummed. As he reached out to grab the one shot he had left, you moved quicker, grabbing it before he could and pulling it away from him. He pouted at you, his lower lip jutting out like a child. “Hey, I was going to drink that. Don’t be mean.”

“I think you’ve had enough, baby.” It had slipped out before you could stop yourself. Seunghyun instantly straightened, turning away from you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t call me that when you don’t even love me anymore.”

You frowned, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Seunghyun, I still love you. I love you so much.”

“Then why did you leave me?” He asked quietly. The way he sounded so sad and defeated made the first tear fall from your eyes. When he turned again to face you and saw it, he reached out with the pad of his thumb to wipe it away.

“You wouldn’t let me in. You pushed me away and I didn’t know what to do anymore. It was never a question about loving you. I’m always going to love you but I can’t show you that if you don’t let me,” you closed your eyes at the feeling of his touch. It had only been three weeks but you had missed it so damn much.

“I know.”

The silence lingered between you, the air thick with tension and all the unspoken words that neither of you could bring yourself to say. It was hard not to throw your arms around him at that moment. The way his eyes looked at you so soft, gentle like you were the most precious thing in the world. Your felt your heart rate quicken as he cupped your cheek, resisting the urge to lean into his touch but you couldn’t. You pressed your cheek against his palm, selfishly revelling in the way his skin felt against yours.

“Why are you drinking?” You asked gently.

“So I don’t have to think about you,” he pulled his hand away from you, looking down at the floor. “If I’m drinking then I don’t have to realise how badly I messed up, that I lost the one good thing I had.”

“Seunghyun,” you sighed. This time you did reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know it hurts. It hurts me too but what hurts the most is seeing you like this. Things are hard, I know but this isn’t you. You’re strong, you’re determined and… you can get through this. I’m not just talking about the breakup, I’m talking about everything else.”

“Yeah, not so sure about that,” he mumbled under his breath but you caught it.

You stood up, tugging at his hand to pull him up to his feet, too. Jiyong, who had been sitting away from you both to give you a moment, rushed over to help you. Each other you threw one of Seunghyun’s arms over your shoulders to help him stand because there was no way he could walk on his own two feet. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Seunghyun didn’t even protest, instead he nuzzled his head into your neck, closing his eyes. You had never been more thankful for Jiyong in that moment as he helped pull Seunghyun into the cab. He had asked you if you wanted him to come with you but you shook your head, telling him you’d be fine and you’d call him in the morning to let him know how things were.

“You’re still so beautiful,” Seunghyun mumbled drunkenly as you helped him back into his apartment. Without Jiyong, it took you twice as long but you managed to drag him into his bedroom, placing him down on his bed. He laid back, allowing you to pull off his shoes. He was mumbling to himself but you didn’t quite catch it. When you were finished making him more comfortable, you were about to leave but he reached out, grabbing your wrist. “Stay with me?”

The pleading look in his eyes was too hard to refuse so you nodded your head, climbing onto the bed beside him. He wrapped his arms around you, sighing contently as he nuzzled into your hair. “I love you. Don’t leave me.”

“Let's talk in the morning when you’re sober, okay?”

Seunghyun drifted off to sleep quickly and, unsurprisingly, so did you. It was the first sleep you’d got in three weeks and it was all because you had your person. Maybe, just maybe you really would be able to fix this.

event tag list

writers: @namsgyu @mashtatosworld @gds-daisy @gdinthehouseee @ldydeath @eru-vande @emmiesoverthemoon @breakmeoff @makeitworse

readers: @seungttttop @keiraryan @moontabi @mintandmuse @steponupbabe @heartubeatusalon @thanosspills @aizshallnotbefound @burningheartdetective @soragojo

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib @moontabi @loonybunn

#choi seunghyun x reader #t.o.p x reader #choi seunghyun #t.o.p #made (attie’s version)

239 notes · View notes

deseretgear · 3 months ago

Text

OKY big Gaslight District Misc post

based on various stuff I was finding while rewatching the pilot and talking with friends:

Mud in the freezer! The flies are interesting; are they rotlings or something else? they are wrapped up here with tags on them like bodies in the morgue. there is also one that gets served another fly's head in the butcher shop. They seem to be used as food and decoration and drink.

It says Bug Lite Frothy and has a little fly on it :)

There's also a fly used as a candlestick on Breadhead's piano

I can't quite make out what is on the bottles in the back but one of them looks like "bittersweet organ relish" (thanks to my friend Jackie for that one)

Other people probably noticed this but the Virtue we see in Ken's inferno flashback is definitely Temperence; he has the same mask and the nubs on his shoulder.

Also I don't have a screenshot of it, but when he pulls Ken's toenail a thin needle like portion comes off with a long thread of blood or such behind it. I wonder if Temperence was experimenting or doing surgery of sort on Ken or the other prisoners? It does look like Ken was actually a prisoner; but how did he escape? Does this have something to do with how he got Mel?

Mel had a little naughty sexy magazine with ladies on it :3 and in a blink-and-you'll miss it moment it looks like she's also holding hands with "Romeo" and it looks like they might be having a romantic moment! So this looks like she is a bisexual queen. We love to see it! Also peep that cute pic in the background with Mel and Ken and Breadhead! Looks like they have some kind of catch in a net.

The photos in the back are easier to see in this screenshot. The one in the middle looks like Mel besides the whale's eye.

This is fun; when Diligence is scanning the truck bed it says "Investigation in progress" and when the guard interrupts him it says "Nuisance Detected"

Also the little scan screen has angle symbols on the border!

My friends and I were trying to figure out for a while what Temperence is holding, and we think it's Mel's egg! It looks like it has some tubing out of it, implying its some kind of construct. It has a glowy portion in the middle, and also it's position mirror's Mel's in this shot.

But what do you think it is?

This one is hard to show in a screenshot so there's a timestamp to it here (Idk how to gif) When the camera zooms out in the security room after ken attacks Temperence, we see all three characters of the smiling dead except for Mud (who is watching them) on the screens

Mel is climbing the stairs to the right, Ken is in the middle, and Breadhead's arm can be seen flapping up and down on the right side! It looks like he is flapping his hands like wings as he's being carried by the angels :) Yay

This tapestry in the Lab seems to depict what looks like the old angel mother and something under her wing holding an egg with Rotlings in front. I wonder if the figure holding the egg (it kind of is fused with her sillouette here but it looks like a kneeling figure) is meant to be a Virtue or something else? perhaps whatever's in the metal egg above Temperence?

Close up of the Quick-Rising yeast Breadhead snorts and the paper that is briefly flashed on screen in his head! It looks like some kind of solomonic or occult instructions or paper? We can see what is clearly a bunch of semen squiggles on the left side, one of which rises up to show a little breadhead baby (aw)

There's four symbols of what looks like the moon, the whale, a rotling, and and egg. Some other arcane symbols I don't know the meaning of, and in the center of that...octogram, some kind of rock?

Also on the right side (still glowing in this image) is a spoon!

I feel this is instructions on how to create breadhead; maybe a homonculous of sorts? the paper in the head also makes me think of the Golem in Jewish legend, who is brought to life with a paper with the name of god inscribed on it inserted into its head/mouth.

Close ups of the drawings Mel did of her dad during the slide show haha. I love em

Ok the Title sort of blocks it but in the back right of this scene we can see the Whale's Head butcher shop won a "Best Meal" award:

Best Meal Voted District's Top Choice (Not that there are many choices)

a few more random stuff from the butcher shop; there's a tag saying To Kenny From Xenora (who is that? an old friend or flame?) and during the bar fight, the big photo of the smiling dead gets splattered with blood that covers Jack, symbolizing how he's been excised from the family.

When Ken eats Temperence, we can see it has some kind of mechanical spine and legs attatched, but Ken eats only the brain part. Also the brain has a little black hand marking/tattoo on it, and we see green light explode from Ken's belly after he eats it. This seems to imply the Virtues are, like the Rotlings, bound to their bodies and may originally be humans, just humans uploaded into robot bodies. I say "human" the way the rotlings are also originally "humanity" that's been twisted, not that they are humans like Mel is.

There are better close ups but in this image of the black egg prophecy we can see what clearly seem to be nukes in the center, and waves rising all around as the Rotlings pray. This seems to be along with the Whale's Belly (I'm sorry I keep forgetting what the butchershop is called) a biblical reference. Noah and Jonah specifically. This definitely seems to indicate some kind of natural but also manmade destruction of the world, and may also indicate what the Mother Angel meant when she talked about Mel raining Fire Down on those who rot.

Looks like the truck is transporting the body parts of saints. What for? are they for the virtues, that thing in the metal egg? is this for reconstructing a human?

MORE diligence scans; the one where he chokes Ken has warnings about structural damage and its other arm not being detected. The one that goes down to Mud's crotch says "package not detected" seeming to indicate Mud doesn't have a penis. We stan a transmasc king o7

And that about wraps it up! mostly misc thoughts. The big thing standing out to me Right Now is: Who is and isn't a Rotling? are the Flies rotlings? are the Virtues basically just rotlings in robot bodies who see themselves as superior?

Are the angels made by the virtues, or did they make the virtues?

How was breadhead made? He does seem to be constructed.

What exactly went down between Ken and Temperence?

Excited to see more and happy to see everyone's thoughts

#The Gaslight District #the gaslight district spoilers #the gaslight district lore #gaslight district #ken the butcher #meloncholy gaslight district #breadhead gaslight district #the virtues gaslight district

275 notes · View notes

hgfictionwriter · 10 months ago

Text

Discovery - Part Four

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's feeling the lowest she has in a long time. Things are at the tipping point and she needs to choose to either confront things head on or lose you forever.

Warnings: G!P content. Heavy angst. Body image issues or even dysphoria; mental and emotional anxiety; internal conflicts; themes of rejection and self-loathing; self-sabotaging behaviours. Language.

A/N: Chapters one, two and three.

“I can’t believe you. I’ve waited all day to hear from you - and nothing. After everything that happened, you just leave in the middle of the night and just dead silence. Are you kidding me, Jess?”

“First you give me the cold shoulder all evening without any explanation as to why. Started by a conversation you began, might I add. I tell you I love you. We kiss and you literally throw me off of you.”

“Yes, I was upset and I didn’t want to talk. But you just ghost me all day? I know you withdraw when you’re upset or overwhelmed, but you don’t even have the decency to check in with me or give me some kind of an explanation?”

Jessie sunk into her seat on the couch as she read your messages again. She’d been staring at them on and off for the past hour and felt paralyzed, unable to act.

She’d managed to make it to training this morning, but she was certainly worse for wear. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark circles under them from a mix of sleep deprivation and the time she’d spent crying. Her teammates immediately clocked her upset and some fawned over her trying to suss things out and help, but she was largely unresponsive.

She just wanted to do her drills to keep her mind off of you and the absolute disaster she’d created.

Coach recommended she talk to the sports therapist, and while she nodded her agreement, she had no intention of rushing. She already knew what they’d say and she wasn’t interested right now. If she was willing to do those things, guess what, she wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament in the first place.

So here she sat at home this evening, in self-imposed solitude and catatonic. The apartment was dead quiet as she flipped between scrolling distractedly through her phone and re-reading messages with you and looking at pictures of the two of you.

She needed to respond. But it seemed no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t figure out what to say. Nothing was remotely adequate. She let out a shuddering breath as she continued to remain inert.

Her heart raced as another message came in from you.

“I’d like to think we’d built enough of a connection and you have enough respect for me to at least acknowledge me and respond. I’ve been sitting here making up excuses in my head for you all day, but reality is, you just choose not to talk to me.”

She let her head fall heavily back against the wall with a dull thud. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists as she felt herself start to tear up yet again.

The end felt inevitable, but underneath all of her fear and anxiety it isn’t what she wanted. It would be easier perhaps. Just close herself off again. Be single again for god knows how long. She was exceptional at pushing people away and pretending it didn’t matter.

Then, maybe, when it felt safe again and the hardship she was currently experiencing was just a distant memory, she would hope to meet someone as incredible as you again. But for what? So she could compare them to you? Miss you? To fuck it all up again?

She released a slow, steady breath and brought her phone back up to reply.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I was at training earlier and I guess I just didn’t know what to say.”

“She lives. Well, thank you for replying... So. Do you know what you want to say now?”

She sighed in frustration.

“No.”

She shouldn’t be so curt.

“I wish I did.”

“Well. That’s very helpful.”

“I have some things I want to say. But if you’re not interested in hearing them or trying to resolve anything, I suppose there’s no point.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“I want to know.”

“Do you actually? Because, frankly, even if I told you how I feel last night, I’m not that interested in humiliating myself further or wasting my time if we’re not on the same page.”

Jessie’s chest constricted painfully as she read your message. She never used to consider herself a selfish person, but seeing the toll she’d taken on you, she couldn’t deny it. She wiped angrily at a stray tear at the corner of her eye.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to feel that way and I’m sorry I’ve caused it. I do want to hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t want to do this through text. It’s going to fucking suck but I want to talk in person.”

Jessie sat forward to the edge of the couch and leaned her forearms heavily against her thighs as she studied your message.

She was scared. She didn’t want to do that. Still, she owed you that, the truth, and so much more. And even if you left hating her, she had to make sure you knew it really was all her - you’d been perfect and all of this rot branched from her.

And if it really was the end, she couldn’t resist seeing you one more time.

“Okay. Where and when?”

—————

Jessie’s hands were cold and clammy as she walked down the hall to your apartment. She breathed heavily before catching herself and steadying them. She compulsively opened and closed her fists as she waited for you to answer.

When you opened the door, your expression was a far cry from the one she was used to seeing greet her. Instead of seeing a bright or warm smile, you looked tired and weary.

Guilt radiated through Jessie; she caused this single-handedly. She was supposed to make you happy, bring you comfort, make you feel safe and loved. Instead, she left you looking like a shell of yourself. Slowly at first, small nicks here and there, before a catastrophic and now lingering blow.

“Come in,” you said with only the slightest inflection in your voice. You stepped aside but didn’t make eye contact as Jessie entered.

“I, um, got you this,” Jessie said after she set her shoes aside and took off her backpack. She pulled a vinyl record out of it and handed it to you. She met your discerning gaze briefly before dropping it to the record in her hand. “I know you’ve been looking for it, so…”

You tentatively took it from her, a frown on your face as you examined it.

“Thanks,” you said flatly.

She knew it wouldn’t fix things or make things up to you - not by a long shot - but she had the faintest hope you would be more receptive.

When she forced herself to look up at you again, she saw you still studying the record. Eventually, your frown deepened and you looked at her almost accusingly.

“I don’t get you,” you said. “You barely talk to me these past couple of days and you act all cagey but then you do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

Your face faltered briefly before you grew stoic once more. “Some days you seem to really like me. Really care for me and understand me and we connect so well. And then others it feels like you can hardly stand to look at me.” A flash of emotion appeared on your face and disappeared just as fast. Your voice strained vaguely before you steadied it. “Never mind touch me.”

Jessie swallowed and dropped her gaze in shame. You went on, your voice cracking.

“I’ve tried to be really patient. But after the other night…I’ve done a lot of thinking and I can’t help but admit how hard it’s been.”

You sighed heavily and set the record down on a nearby table before returning and folding your arms tightly against yourself and leaning back against the wall. Your brow was heavy with a frown.

“And I know you've been trying." Your voice grew taut. "Prior anyway. And that's probably what makes it the worst. It's been hard for you, too - to be with me." Your face fell and your lip trembled briefly as you looked away.

Jessie's heart ached as she watched you battle with your emotions. All of the fear and worry she'd let dominate her fell away, replaced with an overwhelming need to hold you and make you feel better.

"It hasn't been," Jessie beseeched, taking a step forward but stopping when your gaze flicked back to her, warning.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" You said sharply. "I know you can’t stand to touch me. At first, I kept trying to give myself, and you, the benefit of the doubt - but the other night really proved that not only do you most definitely not find me attractive,” you laughed acerbically, “I think I might actually even repulse you.” You stared at her a moment, letting your words hang in the air and feigning amusement before choking back a sob. You visibly clenched your jaw before you forced another empty laugh. “That’s a fun one. My therapist’s about to get a ton of business from me.”

You took a shuddering breath and your voice cracked as you spoke. "I already know how this ends.”

“That’s not at all what’s happening or how I feel,” Jessie protested. She pressed the heels of her palms firmly into her eyes and grit her teeth. Her voice strained with burgeoning emotion. “Jesus Christ. That’s not it at all."

Your face screwed up and you gave a sad shake of your head as you stared her down.

“Stop. Just stop with the vague excuses. Just be honest with me. I don’t need you to confirm it, but don’t lie and tell me otherwise. I can tell,” voice breaking at the end. “Every time you pull away. How uncomfortable you can be when we’re even remotely physical. You can’t stand to kiss me for any length of time. I can feel you just waiting to pull away, like you’re fucking counting down the seconds until it’s over.” You started sobbing. “It’s horrible. Knowing you don’t want me like I want you.”

Jessie took a step toward you and you recoiled. She couldn’t help but think - maybe much like how she had with you times before.

“And don’t give me this whole ‘you’re shy’ or ‘you’re awkward’ thing again. I deserve more than your excuses.” Your voice grew softer. “And it’s not your fault you feel the way you do. You can’t control who you’re attracted to. Sometimes there can be an emotional connection and the physical just isn’t there. I don’t blame you. But I do blame you for dragging this out." You sniffled, wiping agitatedly at a tear that rolled down your cheek before giving her a defiant stare. "So just do what you should’ve done from the beginning.”

“It’s not you,” Jessie started and immediately saw the way you tensed up, ready to argue. She spoke quickly and urgently, her voice pleading for mercy and understanding. “It’s not you. I promise. It’s me - and I know how that sounds. But you were never the problem. I need you to know that.”

You looked ready to explode and Jessie knew it was now or never.

"It's me. I-it's my body. And I've been terrified that you won't accept me," she stammered through, hands to her chest as her gaze remained rooted to the floor. Her lips parted and her shoulders rose and fell as her breathing began to quicken. She swallowed and found the courage to look up at you to see a scrutinizing, but perplexed expression on your face.

"I'm not like you," Jessie said softly, "or most girls. Physically." She held your gaze for a second, to let you begin to process, but to give her time to think as well. She could see you were confused, but you waited quietly for her to go on. "I-I," she started, before stopping to take a steadying breath, her shoulders relaxing as she did so. "I've always been different."

She was slow to proceed and you spoke tentatively, all accusations and harshness now gone.

"What do you mean? How so?"

Jessie swallowed, eyes transfixed on the floor once more. She scratched at the back of her neck so harshly that it hurt.

"The reason I can't be physical with you is because what you would see, and feel," she looked up at you as she exhaled, "isn't what you would expect." She studied you as you processed her words. "That's why I asked you if you'd slept with guys," she finished timidly, embarrassment and shame creeping in despite her efforts.

Your mouth fell open to speak, but nothing came out. You frowned and visibly struggled with what to say next. Jessie's mouth was dry, but she had to take the next step.

"Even though I'm a girl, I have...what a guy has," she said quietly.

Your mouth opened wider to speak, but still nothing came out. You held up a poised finger, cuing her to wait. Eventually you found your words. Jessie held your gaze despite how difficult it was.

"Are you telling me that you have...," you trailed off, your gaze settling on her crotch momentarily before looking up at her, a tinge of pink already on your cheeks, "...a cock?"

Jessie released a slow, shuddering breath through her nose as she continued to hold your gaze. She nodded.

"Yes."

She saw your eyebrows raise as you looked away and her words and emotions just came out in a torrent.

"So if you think I've been struggling, you're right, but that's why," she said bitterly, tears in her eyes already. "It really had nothing to do with you. You've been so perfect. And it's been killing me to lie to you. And to hurt you. But I've been so scared - and I just," she took a shaky breath, "I know I'm not what you signed up for. You didn't deserve any of this, but I was being selfish. I wanted you. And I didn't want to risk losing you, so I just kept lying and the longer I waited, the more impossible it felt to tell you." Jessie's voice broke and she wiped her nose before pulling her arms in tightly against herself.

"And in the end I fucked it all up. And I hate myself for hurting you the way I have. Hearing how I...," she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at you before clenching her jaw tightly. "Hurting you is probably the worst thing I've ever done." Her voice grew high as she fought through her emotions. "And I don't deserve your forgiveness. I would gladly take it, but I know I don't deserve it. You deserve far better than someone who would hurt someone they love the way I've hurt you."

Your brow furrowed as she finished and Jessie swallowed once more, clearing her throat before speaking. "I'm sorry I couldn't say it back the other night. I really wanted to." She gave you a desperate look. "I know it must seem like I have zero integrity, but, I couldn't tell you I love you without telling you," she paused, gaze falling briefly, "all of this." She looked back at you, taking in a slow breath. "I really do love you. And I want so much more for us, but I realize now that even if you were okay...with me...well, with the way I've gone about everything, I've probably ruined any chance for us."

Her face fell as more tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I just need you to know that you shouldn't feel badly about yourself, because you were never the problem. It was always me."

"This is a lot for me to process," you said slowly, thumb grazing idly along your arm. You glanced over at the couch for a moment before glancing back at her. "Um, why don't we sit down."

Jessie sniffled, overcome with surprise that you'd invite her in further. It took her a moment to comprehend it, but soon nodded eagerly. She followed you wordlessly to the couch, remaining standing as you took a seat. You looked at her expectantly before gesturing to the spot next to you.

She was mindful of the space between you. She didn't want to sit too close and inadvertently imply that things were suddenly fine. She sat stiffly, back straight, hands on the tops of her thighs as she deferred to you on how to proceed. She glanced at you in trepidation, waiting, but when you didn't say anything for several moments she spoke again.

"I completely understand that this is a lot to process," she validated with a fleeting glance. "While I've been thinking about nothing but this for months, this is all new to you."

"Yeah," you said quietly, still very much in your thoughts.

"And I want you to know that you don't owe me anything," she said. "I completely understand if this is too much for you or not what you want. No hard feelings." She almost laughed at the last statement as she sat here, congested and teary-eyed. There would be a lot of feelings, but not hard feelings. She rubbed her forehead. "And I understand if there are hard feelings towards me. I'm sorry I was such a coward. I just-" she shook her head quickly, dismissing the thought. "Never mind."

She heard you exhale gently and she peeked over at you. You were initially still, but soon shifted, surprising Jessie as you turned subtly towards her.

"Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of questions. And I still have a lot of confusing feelings and hurt. But - I meant it when I said I love you. So it's hard to see you hurting like this." You scratched at your temple before looking up at her. "Did I do something to make it harder for you to tell me?"

Jessie turned to you fully, a stern look on her face. "No," she said adamantly. "You were," she shrugged listlessly, "you really were - are - amazing. I guess I just let old fears and baggage control me."

"What do you mean?" You asked tentatively before holding up your hands and speaking quickly. "And if I ask something that's too much - just say so. I don't want to make you more uncomfortable."

Jessie frowned deeper. "You're too good for me," she said simply. "You shouldn't give a shit about whether I'm uncomfortable or not. But, let me be clear - for once - I will answer any question you have for me. Some will be easier to answer than others, but I want you to know everything. If you want. That's what I wanted all along, but I was just too scared."

"Well, if you love someone - you care about their boundaries and how they feel," you said plainly. Jessie looked at you and you looked away nervously, clearing your throat before turning back. "And. Backtracking. You...love me?"

Jessie smiled for the first time today. It was an emotional, watery, sad smile. But it was a smile. "Yes. I really do. And it's been absolute torture the past couple of days not talking to you - I know it's all my fault though."

You frowned, thoughts almost visibly churning before you set your gaze on her again.

"Wait. But I'm not your first girlfriend. So...was it like this every time?"

Jessie's posture slumped slightly at your question; more-so, the reminder it triggered. That you were the best and she'd treated you the worst.

"No. No, it hasn't been," she admitted as she picked at the fabric of her pants. "I, um, was more open before. And, uh, I guess it backfired. And I've been pretty reserved and nervous about it since."

"Oh," you said quietly, still deep in thought. "But your teammates know, right?"

"Yeah, they all do. Hard for them not to. And they're cool with it, thank God. But otherwise I keep it quiet. It doesn't seem like it, but I'm actually pretty comfortable with that aspect of myself these days. It caused a lot of angst for me for years, but I'm happy with who I am. Relationships though...that's a different matter altogether."

"I'm sorry, Jess," you said gently, pulling a confused look out of her. Again, you shouldn't be worried about her. "That sounds really difficult. That said, do you mind telling me more?"

Jessie turned to you more fully, your knees nearly brushing now. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. You were right that I was far from an open book, but I don't want to be like that anymore. I want you to know everything, if you'd like." She shrunk into herself a bit and waved a hand aimlessly. "And just because I tell you these things, it doesn't mean that I think you'll forgive me or something. I understand that, you know, things could end. But I still want you to know."

Surprise flooded Jessie's system as you took her hand and gave it the faintest squeeze, continuing to hold it after.

"Jess. It's okay. I want to know."

She mustered up a tight smile for you and squeezed your hand.

She proceeded to tell you her story. Filling the gaps she'd craftily navigated during previous conversations. The embarrassment she'd felt. The otherness. The ridicule she'd experienced over the years. The rejection. The objectification. And the eventual defeat; of feeling like no one would get her or love her the way she wanted to be loved.

By the time she finished, a new set of tears had finished falling, but what she noted most of all was how you now held her hand in both of yours.

"Baby," you said softly, as you lifted her hand and kissed it tenderly. Jessie looked at you in surprise as she sniffled.

She'd expected the worst, so when you looked at her with warmth and compassion, it caught her off-guard to not see disgust or rejection.

"I'm so sorry you were made to feel like that. You didn't deserve that at all. Some people are so fucking close-minded and terrible. I'm so sorry you had to experience that," you told her.

Her shoulders hitched as she rode out the dying waves of her emotion.

"Thanks," she managed, her voice still congested and strained. "Now you know how hypocritical and truly horrible it was of me to make you feel the way those girls made me feel."

You tilted your head slightly and gave it a slow shake. "No. It's not the same. I mean, yes, I felt terrible, but you weren't trying to hurt me. And now I can understand where you were coming from."

Jessie shook her head in return. "It doesn't make it right though. So...if you let me, I'll do everything I can to try to make it up to you and try to rebuild the trust I've broken. Totally understand if that's off the table though."

"I," you started, chest rising as you took a large breath before relaxing once more, "still love you. So...no, it's not off the table. I still have to process a lot of this and reconcile some things. And, yes, reality is you hurt me, but everything makes so much more sense now. So. Thank you. For finally telling me."

Jessie nodded. "Thank you for hearing me out."

You fidgeted slightly and she watched you carefully. You felt her eyes on you and spoke hesitantly.

"We, um. Didn't exactly address my initial issue though. I mean, I understand now why you've been so closed off and flighty. But, you know, none of this necessarily means that you, um, find me attractive. Because that could still be a problem."

Jessie gave you a disbelieving look. "Of course I find you attractive. Well, okay," she slowed herself down, "I understand why you thought I didn't. But, now that you know everything else, my attraction to you is exactly why I couldn't be remotely physical with you. It was...a bit too much for me. Let's put it that way," Jessie finished as she looked away sheepishly. When she braved a look back your face was tinged pink.

"Oh. Okay. Well..., um. That's nice to know, I guess," you responded awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. That was probably too much information," Jessie mumbled. She cleared her throat before speaking more confidently. "So, no, you have nothing - at all - to worry about there. I think the bigger question now is if you would find me attractive. Now that you know that my, um, anatomy is different."

You blushed deeper and cleared your throat as well.

"Oh. I mean, you're still you. And, I'm curious-" you held up your hands quickly in defense, eyes closing as you corrected yourself, "-not like those other girls. No. I would never use you like that." You opened your eyes once again, calming yourself. "What I mean is. I'm still interested."

Jessie felt an ember of hope flickering in her chest. You were still blushing, giving her fleeting glances until you fully faced her, now serious and prim.

"You get one more chance," you told her firmly, holding up a finger. "I know a lot will be new and there'll be things to navigate, but I won't put up with you being distant and cagey again. Do not lie to me again."

Jessie nearly beamed. She straightened up eagerly and nodded her head rapidly in agreement.

"I won't," she promised before she took a second look at you. "Are you sure you want to try again?"

Your face scrunched up adorably as you shot her a look.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" You asked, affronted.

"No," she refuted, shaking her head adamantly. "I just want to make sure this is what you truly want. I know I dumped a lot on you just now, so...you are more than welcome to take your time to think. And I definitely don't want you to feel guilty in any way."

"I don't feel guilty," you told her. "And," you exhaled quickly, "as you were telling me about all of your experiences and how you've been treated, all I could really think throughout all of it is that I wished there was some way I or someone could go back and protect you from all of that." You picked at your nails idly. "And, I don't know, that I just wanted to hold you. And kiss you." You gave her another stern look, but it was mild at best. "You're not entirely forgiven yet. But I understand you so much better now. So, I do want to try again."

That heavy, horrible ache in her chest she'd been carrying with her the past while was replaced with a sensation of warmth and lightness.

"You're the most incredible woman I've ever met," she told you unwaveringly. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to make things up to you. I'll make sure you never have a doubt about me, or you, or us, again."

"That's a bold promise," you warned with a hint of a smirk.

Jessie smiled at you undeterred. She gently cupped the side of your face and leaned in, stopping momentarily to speak before giving you a soft, slow kiss.

"And it's one I intend to keep."

A/N: Next up…smut.

Tag requests: @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp @kathleenmikaelson

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #canwnt x reader #woso imagine

509 notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 1 year ago

Note

Here's some funny ideas I've got while at work today; a leisure streamer gojo who'd just simply streamed himself playing games naked except for his sunglasses and briefs. Rumors had it that each time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to see him ~fully naked~.

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie!

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor will you get to see the goods or was it just a rumor. Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x FAB!Reader

Warnings: language, nudity, masturbation, mutual-masturbation, skype sex??

A/N: I fell in love with this request! ugjskdkekd I love them so much! Thank you bonnie for such a great idea!! 💚💚💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four

On Friday nights, you always ran home from your last college class, avoiding people on bikes and walking by. You often got dirty looks thrown at you or the occasional ‘watch where you're going.’ But nothing would stop your stride. Friday nights were some of your favorite nights of the week. All because the-strongest-streamer live streamed on Fridays.

And the man, god fuck, he was the hottest!

Gojo Satoru, aka the-strongest-streamer, was a leisure streamer. He played games like Animal Crossing, Dream Daddy, and fluffy feel-good games in only his boxers and sunglasses. He was among the most popular streamers, not only for his looks but also for his happy-go-lucky attitude. But because of a particular rumor that started going around.

It was said in the forms online, in his comments, and even on Twitter that every time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to join a private stream with him and see him fully naked. That was just a rumor. He had denied the allegations and made it clear that the private stream was to have a meet and greet with his top donor.

The meet and greet was why you’ve been saving money for six months. You wanted to meet the man who had brought you so much joy in the last year. You stumbled across his profile when looking through videos online. You were looking for a cute cat compilation to ease the ache in your heart after your boyfriend dumped you. Instead, you found this goofball that had you smiling like an idiot on your phone.

You had been in a dark time when you first found his videos. You wanted to express your gratitude to him. Seeing him naked was not your goal in any way, shape, or form.

The second you got home, you slid over to your laptop and pulled up Gojo’s stream. He was sprawled out in his black and blue gaming chair; blue LED lights illuminated the room. Black sunglasses reflected his computer screen as he adjusted his headset.

“Tom Nook is a scammer.” He announced as hundreds of comments flooded in. “The little shit asks me to do all this for him! After all, I have to spend my hard-earned bells on upgrading the pavers. Kiss my nicely toned ass, you bastard.” You smiled, giggling as you dreamily watched him. “Ya�� know what? Next week, we'll play Sims or something; I’d rather build a house than have Tom Nook steal all my money.”

He adjusted his sunglasses as he slipped on some frappe, the logo conveniently covered so no one knew where he was. Several comments flooded in asking what he was drinking, and most people sent in small donations. All of these were things Satoru tried to answer and thank. He may miss a couple here and there, but he tried hard to get to everyone. God, he was so down to earth.

It was all of those reasons that had you clicking the donate button, sending a total of eight hundred dollars to him. Your cute little icon of a mochi popped up on his screens, flashing while music blared. The whole scene reflected off his dark sunglasses.

“Eh?!” The white tufts of his hair flowed as he moved in, focus glued to the screen. “Whoa! Whoa! Mochi-gurl-89, thank you so much for that donation!” With a chipper chime, you took the spot as his top donor. “And it looks like you're my new top donor! Just before the stream ended! I'll have one of my admins contact you so we can do our private stream. And with this, I adore you all, until next time this is the-strongest-streamer signing off!”

The second he ended his stream, your inbox chimed with a new message. As Satoru said, it was a message from one of his admins. The message was clear; you got a thirty-minute stream, maybe more if Satoru agreed. There could be no recording of your conversation or photos, which was perfectly fine. All you wanted to do was talk. After agreeing to all those terms and signing a nondisclosure form, you were sent a link to your private stream.

You had your camera off, your cute chibi mochi avatar taking up your screen as Satoru’s room was fully displayed. With a deep breath, you shook your hands, trying to ease your nerves as a door opened on Satoru’s screen. A second later, he plopped down in his gaming chair. God, he was so handsome. Fluffy white hair and chiseled abs like he was carved from marble; he was just your type.

“Hello?” he asked, “you there, mochi-gurl-89?”

“O-Oh! Uhm, yes, hi!” He stared at the screen, frowning just a bit as he saw your avatar instead of your face.

“Here, I thought I’d be talking to a fan. Instead, it's a cute mochi ball.”

You nervously giggle before clicking a few times and turning your camera on. You felt so plain compared to him. He was incredibly sexy, and you were just an average college girl. In your opinion, there wasn’t much to see.

“Oh.” Satoru breathed out, drawing your attention back to the screen. You swear to God, you choked on your breath. Because he had taken his sunglasses off, revealing cerulean eyes behind white lashes. “Wow, you're fuckin’ hot.”

“Oh! Uhm—”

“Fuck! Sorry, did I say that out loud?” he sulked back in his chair. “I'm so sorry. I'm not one of those creeps who stalk their followers. I, I was expecting—”

“A giant ball of mochi?” The sweetness of your voice seems to have him relaxing as he realizes you didn't mind his compliment.

“Exactly.”

You cup some of your hair behind your ear, biting your lip. “Sorry to disappoint, but thank you for the compliment.”

“And thank you for the generous donation! That means a lot to me.”

“Thank you for being such a beacon of light in my life.” Did popular streamers think comments like that were cringe? “I hope that doesn’t come off creepy or weird.”

“I've had fans send me their underwear. Being a beacon of light to you is the least weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

You can't help the wide, warm smile that spreads across your face. “You have no clue how happy that makes me. I went through a nasty break and the night that it happened. I found one of your—” his fingers played with the hem of his boxers. “Your stream—and you—” fingers gently lift the hem, and you focus on his face. “Uhm Gojo?” The man on your screen hums.

“Yes, mochi-gurl?”

“I—I heard about you getting naked for the private streams.” Using your hands, you shield your vision. “B-But you don't have to do that! I just wanted to talk.”

“Eh?!” peeking through your fingers, you watch the white-haired man turn red. “Naked! No! No shit fuck, I'm sorry! I'm not a perv, I swear to god.” He shields his face in his hands, grumbling some incoherent words that you can't make out.

Gojo didn't seem like the type to be a pervert, and from his reaction, it wasn't like you’d caught him fully undressing in front of you. If anything, he seemed more embarrassed than you. After gathering your thoughts, you leaned a bit closer to your screen.

“Gojo?”

His white hair flies as his head jerks up. “I-I know about the rumors! How I get nude for my private streams for my top donors, but that is nothing more than a rumor, I swear!” Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you, into your soul. “I promise you I wasn't about to do anything remotely weird.” His face is almost entirely red, and his bottom lip is between his teeth as he scans your features.

“Okay,” you tentatively begin, “then what were you doing?”

“That's the thing; it's going to sound ten times worse when I tell you what I was doing.” you motion with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, just promise you won't put me on blast or try to cancel me?” When you nod, the leisure streamer grumbles before tilting his head back. “I-I’m sorry, but you're really hot. Like super mega hot.” Thank god your room is so dark, or he could see how flushed you were. “So hot, my stupid dick decided to spot a hard-on.” He rolls his chair back just an inch, revealing the extremely hard bulge in his boxers. “I was trying to discreetly lift the waistband so you wouldn't see how hard I was.”

A string of ‘I’m sorry’ echoes on the other end of the screen. Gojo’s blue eyes focused on you, waiting to see how you reacted to the news. His shy demeanor and the bulge in his boxers have you shifting in your seat. Heat pools between your thighs. God, were you getting wet? Rubbing your thighs together, you confirmed that you were as you felt your arousal. You bite down on your inner cheek to prevent a moan from sounding.

“Hey, mochi-gurl? You're too quiet, and you look super pissed. I'm sorry.” Gojo’s voice seems to enhance your growing arousal. He sits back, cocking a brow as you peer at him with dark needy eyes through your lashes. “H-Hey you go-goo—oh fuck.” He watches as you stick your hand between your legs.

“You think I’m hot?” Your voice is so smooth, with desire.

“Y-Yeah, super hot.” Gojo follows suit, his hand reaching back down, fingertips slipping under the band of his boxers. “The hottest fuckin’ girl I've ever seen.”

Pressing your fingers against your shorts, you rub your clit in slow circles. “Gojo, you’re girlfriend won't find us doing this?” The man on the screen before you scoff, his hand sliding fully into his boxers.

“Girlfr-ahh—” his hand moved up and down, “fuuuck—what girlfriend? I-I go to the gym, hang out with my friends, and live stream.” Watching him stroke himself has you feeling feral. “Plus streaming half naked, well, let's just say girls don't like that.”

You rubbed your clit faster, “As a girl, I like it.” White brows knitted on your screen. “I like it a lot; it's so hot.” Gojo watched, head resting back against his chair as you slid your hand up your shirt, cupping your breasts, massaging yourself.

“Y-Yeah? Does your boyfriend like it?”

“I don't have one~”

Gojo growled, biting down on his lip. “Really?” He leaned back, spreading his legs apart. “Lucky me.” Pursing your lips together, you tilted your head back. “Fuck, you're so fucking hot, sweetheart.” something overcame you. A boldness you hadn’t experienced before. Taking the bottom of your T-shirt, you put it between your teeth and lifted it, revealing your bare chest to your favorite streamer. “Oooh fuck, you have the prettiest tits.” Gojo watched as your fingers moved elegantly over your skin, kneading your breast until your nipples were hard. “How rude of me, you’re showing me yours might as well show you mine.”

A choke sounds in your throat as you nearly release your T-shirt from between your teeth. Gojo had pulled his boxers down just enough to hook them underneath his balls, freeing his gorgeous cock. His cock throbbed and twitched underneath his hand as he gently began stroking it up and down. Watching him stroking himself, twisting his wrist, squeezing it just around the tip, causing his head to tilt back, and seeing that made you do something you had never done.

Gojo could hear you shuffling in the background before your screen suddenly turned, and he faced a couch. You plopped down, your shorts discarded. With his jaw dropped open, Gojo watched as you spread your legs as wide as you could in front of the camera and rubbed your fingers over your wet pussy. You had never done something like this before. Sexting, yes, but full-on masturbating in front of a stranger, this was something you never thought you would do.

“Holy, you're so wet.” his hand sped up around his cock. “God, look at you. You’re so fucking pretty.” his thumb brushed over the slit rubbing pre-cum over the tip. “God, I wanna taste you. I bet you smell fucking delicious.”

“I want to suck you off, fuck, Gojo~ fuuuck.” coding your fingers in your slick, you rub quick, fast circles around your clit, causing your legs to tremble. “Gojo~ Gojo~”

“N-No, call me Satoru, please.”

“Satoru~”

Goj—Satoru tilts his head forward, his burning gaze on you, watching you slide a finger inside your tight heat. You don't think you've ever been so aroused. Having a stranger watching you finger yourself as he jerks off had your walls clenching around your fingers. Satoru must have thought the same thing because his tip dribbles more pre-cum, his cock throbbing hard as he matches his pace with yours.

“Oh god, I'm so wet.” Slick coats your fingers as you rub your clit with your thumb. “I can't remember the last time I was this wet.”

“I can tell, god, you're soaked.” Glancing at the screen, you can see Satoru gritting his teeth. “Oh fuck, I-I’m so hard it hurts, I-I’ve never done this before. God feels so good; all my brain is thinking is, ‘dick hard, feel good.’”

The conversation dies down, replaced with whines, moans, and grunts of pleasure. Your eyes never miss each other. You both constantly look each other over, whispering each other’s names like prayers. You try to imagine how his thick, long fingers would feel inside of you instead of your own. You know that he could reach the sweet spots inside you that you loved. At the same time, Satoru imagines replacing his hand with your own while his fingers take the place of yours.

Both of you are so worked up that you find yourself dangling over the edge of an orgasm before you know it. Your legs are trembling, toes curling, while Satoru’s hand moves faster his other hand, reaching down, cupping his balls, massaging them. Both of you are lost in each other’s pleasure without even touching the other. There’s chemistry between you. Both you and Satoru can feel it through the screen.

“Oh fuck, of fuck, fuuuuck fuck!” Satoru leans closer to his screen to watch you. “Oh god, I can feel it coming; it’s gonna be a big one. Baby~ fuuuck, please tell me you’re close.”

“S-So close.” a sharp inhale of breath sounds, “Oooh fuckin’ shit, Satoru, I’m gonna cum~.”

“Oi.” your eye hazily find him, “look at me when you cum.”

That, god, that was the hottest thing anyone has ever told you. “Cummin! Oh fuck, Satoru~! Satorruu!” the screen that leaves your body almost doesn’t sound human as you squirt all over your couch. Even though your orgasm is the hardest one you’ve ever experienced, not once do your eyes leave his.

“Good girl~ good fuckin girl.” his praises leave your cunt twitching. “Oh fuck, gonna fill you up all the way. Tell me you want it. Please.”

“Yes~ Satoru, inside~ inside~!”

The veins and his neck protrude as he slams his free fist against his desk, causing his setup to shake. Ropes and ropes of white cum spurt out of his cock. The sticky substance coats his abdomen, on the top of his thighs and hand.

“Fuck~ fuck~fuuuck!” His hand continues, moving up and down his shaft, milking his cock for all that it’s worth. “Fuuuck!” he hisses out through clenched teeth.

Several seconds pass, both of you breathing heavily, recovering from your orgasms. Swallowing hard at your dry throat, you slowly pull your fingers out of you with a wince. Satoru was the next move, grabbing some tissues off his desk and cleaning himself up. You can’t help but laugh softly in the silence of cleaning yourselves.

Hearing the angelic sound leaving your mouth, Satoru focuses his blue eyes on you. “What’s got you giggly over there?” much to his disappointment, you slide your shorts back on before sitting back on the couch.

“That was one hell of a meet and greet.”

Satoru’s lets out a rough laugh.”Yeah, it sure as hell was. I think I owe you a proper meet and greet.” The streamer let out a content sigh. “Are you free tomorrow night? I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have.” he leans back, fixing his boxers.

“Think you can keep your boner down long enough for that?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I can’t make any promises that it’ll behave.”

“Huh, what if I don’t want it to behave?”

Flushed cheeks darken in color as Satoru’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Goddamn, you're so hot. Who knew some chick with a mochi avatar was going to have me stroking my cock tonight.” God, he was so cute, both physically and in personality. “Which is super cute, by the way. Did you do it yourself, or did you have an artist commission it? Because I am in dire need of some new avatar artwork for my videos.”

“I drew it myself. I’m a freelance graphic design artist.”

“You takin’ commissions right now, Miss oh-so-hot-and-talented?”

“If I get this job I want tomorrow, I might have to take a brief break. But I would make an exception for you.”

Satoru opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a knock on the door behind him. “Shit, sorry, I gotta go; I promised my roommate I would help him hook up a computer upstairs.” With one final glance in your direction, Satoru, for once, was elated over a rumor that had spread about him over the Internet. “Tomorrow same time, mochi-gurl?”

“Sounds great, Satoru.”

After bidding farewell to the exceptionally hot man, you pass out on the couch. From the excitement of getting to meet your favorite streamer to the intensity of your orgasm. The combination of those contributing factors knocked you on your ass. While your neck was stiff, falling asleep like that on the couch allowed you to get some of the best sleep in months.

You woke up refreshed and ready for your interview that morning. Satoru had put a peep in your step as you walked into the coffee shop you had an interview with. The owner wanted to develop a new logo design for the shop. One that was both warm, welcoming, and had an adorable mascot.

“Wow,” The man across from you flips through your portfolio, “you're talented. You’re just a freelance artist?”

“Mhmm, I don’t like big corporations. I would rather help out small businesses and help support our local community.”

The man interviewing you brushes dark bangs out of his face, his tongue running over his lip piercing. “We love supporters of small businesses. People like you that keep our place going.” He brushes long, dark strands of hair before his dark eyes leave the page before him, meeting your nervous gaze. “Which is why I think you would be a great fit. Your art is exactly what I’m looking for when I think of our logo.”

“Really? That’s so good to hear. I promise you I won’t disappoint you. I’ll be sure to make your dreams come true.”

Your interviewer shuts your portfolio, handing it back to you. He held out his hand, his nails painted black, and his rings on almost every finger. When you first walked into this cute café, you were intimidated by the stranger. He was covered in tattoos and piercings, and his gauges were huge, but he couldn't have been any nicer. So, without hesitation, you stood up, shaking his hand.

“I'm looking forward to doing business with you, Geto.”

“Same goes for me; I’ll give you a tour and introduce you to everyone.”

Rainbow Dragon Cafe recently went viral for its excellent coffee, pastries, and aesthetic. Not only was it a café, but it was also a gaming café. There is a bar where people can enjoy their coffee and booths where they can sit down and work on projects if needed. On one wall, there’s a large flat-screen TV playing compilations of different streamers talking to the camera as they play games. A large sectional couch was set up in front of it so people could sit down and watch if they wanted to.

The other wall was set up so that people could take photos with the company's logo behind them. That was if they had a logo, which is where you came in. For the next few months, your job was to help the owner, Geto Suguru, design and revamp his menu and website. Once you succeed in your mission, a cute neon sign with the logo will be placed on the wall, covered in fake vines and flowers. It is the perfect spot to take photos and hashtag the cafe in their posts.

“This is Shoko; she manages the front and helps run orders to tables.” A woman with dark brown hair waved at you casually as she passed a cigarette in her mouth and headed for the front.

“Taking a smoke break, I’ll be right back.”

Geto led you into the back, where an espresso machine hissed. “Back here is Ryomen Sukuna; he is my best barista.” The muscular, pink-haired man in front of you, covered in tattoos, slammed a rag down on the counter.

“I'm not some fucking barista; I’m the king of coffee.”

“Right, king of coffee, sorry.” Geto introduced you to several other workers. Most of them were just high schoolers working there as a part-time. Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki waved at you before returning to doing their inventory. “And you’ll meet my girls eventually. They said something about getting more couches or pillows for the front. They’re the head of our social media team.”

You lean over the counter with Geto, overlooking the shop that you were hired to help. “I love the setup you guys have. It’s got my creative juices flowing.” Glancing at the TV, you watch a compilation of different streamers reacting to jump scares. “But I’m curious. Why make it a gaming cafe?” Geto follows your gaze, humming at your question.

“That’s all because of my best friend. I didn’t want just to run a cafe and bookstore; I wanted to do something different. He pitched the idea. A place for people to sip coffee, read a book, or play video games.”

“Sounds like he’s a good friend.”

“He is.” Geto jerks his thumb in the direction of a door. “He rents out the basement while I live in the loft upstairs. He's an investor; you might get to meet him if he ever drags his stupid ass out of the basement.”

“Oh, that wou—”

Before you finish your sentence, the door Geto is still pointing at is slammed open. “Suguru! Hey, do you think I could borrow that blue shirt of y-you—” God, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter, you might’ve passed out? Blue eyes that had been locked and focused on the night before met your gaze. You almost didn’t recognize him because he was wearing clothes. “H-Holy shit, mochi-gurl?!”

Your favorite leisure streamer, the man you had masturbated with the night before, was standing right in front of you—more like towering over at a total of six three feet. Words seem to evade you as you stutter. “G-Gojo?” Why was the room spinning all of a sudden?

“Hey, I thought we went over this last night. You can call me Satoru!” his smile fades as soon as it appears on his face. “Sweetheart? Oh shi—” He’s rushing forward just as your world fades to black due to shock.

This was a dream right, it had to be a dream!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

998 notes · View notes

josephandrewstarkey · 10 months ago

Text

surprise!!

warnings: 18+ minors DNI!! smut, p in v sex, cussing

words: 1.3k

❦ drew starkey x actress reader

Drew stepped into the apartment, juggling a couple of grocery bags as he kicked the door shut behind him. My heart pounded in my chest as I stayed hidden just around the corner, watching him. He looked tired but focused, likely thinking about the premiere of ‘Queer’ coming up next week. My excitement grew, knowing he had no idea I was here.

As he set the bags on the counter, a small smile tugged at my lips. I’d been waiting months for this—planning everything down to the last detail to surprise him. Drew thought I wouldn’t be back for another month because of filming, but I’d lied. I had only been gone for three months, not four. All this time, I was dying to tell him that I’d be home in time for his big moment, but I wanted it to be perfect.

The moment he turned around and spotted me, I saw his face freeze in shock. His eyes went wide, his lips parting as if he couldn’t believe I was real.

“Baby,” I said softly, my voice warm and full of affection. “i missed you.”

The grocery bags fell from his hands, apples and cans rolling across the floor. But Drew didn’t seem to notice or care. He just stood there, staring at me for a heartbeat before rushing toward me in a blur of movement.

Before I knew it, his arms were around my waist, lifting me off the ground as he spun me around. The sound of his laughter against my neck sent warmth through my body. He set me down,“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion as his lips brushed against mine between words. “I thought you were filming for another month.”

I giggled, keeping close to him, letting my hands rest on his cheeks. “Yeah, I lied,” I admitted, seeing the surprise still dancing in his eyes. “I wanted to surprise you. You didn’t think I’d leave you alone on your big day, did you?”

“What?” He blinked, trying to process my words, still visibly shocked.

I grinned. “I’m coming with you to Italy! Luca and your manager have known all along. I planned it out with them. I couldn’t miss it, not for anything.”

For a moment, Drew stood there, speechless, his hands gently cupping my face as he pressed his forehead against mine. His gaze was filled with love and disbelief. “You…you did all this?”

“Mmhmm,” I hummed, my fingers lightly tracing his jawline. “Everyone knew except you. I wanted it to be a surprise. I wasn’t going to let you walk that red carpet without me.”

He let out a soft laugh, one that sounded full of relief and amazement. “I was already telling everyone you weren’t going to make it,” he whispered, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “I was so bummed about it.”

I chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Well, you can stop telling people now.”

Before I could pull away, Drew kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands pulling me closer as if he couldn’t get enough. The feeling of his lips against mine was intoxicating, and I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck. His warmth surrounded me, filling the void that had been left during the time we spent apart.

When we finally broke the kiss, Drew kept his forehead against mine, his hands gently running up and down my sides. “God, I missed you. You don’t even know,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with emotion.

“I missed you too,” I whispered, brushing my thumb along his cheek. “I hated being away for so long.”

He glanced around the room for a moment, his eyes soft as they took in our apartment. “And everything’s already arranged? The flight, the hotel…all of it?”

I nodded with a smile. “yes baby all of it” i replied. “perfect” he muttered

— As we sank onto the couch, Drew’s hands roamed over my body with an urgency that spoke of the longing we had both felt. His touch was tender yet insistent, exploring every curve, every inch of skin that he had missed. I responded with a soft moan, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands as they slid under my shirt. as he started kneading my flesh “drew” i moaned

His lips traveled from my mouth to my neck, and each kiss elicited a shiver from me. My breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as his fingers traced a path up my back. I could feel the intensity of his desire in the way he pressed his body against mine, the heat and need palpable between us.

Our moans filled the space around us, mingling in a symphony of pleasure as Drew’s hands slid up to cup my face. He guided me into a deep, passionate kiss, our tongues dancing together as we lost ourselves in the sensation. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of us wrapped in each other’s embrace.

I felt him shudder as he explored the sensitive areas of my skin, and I responded with soft, pleading sounds. His fingers found the curve of my waist, pulling me closer as our bodies pressed together. The intensity of our connection grew with each touch, each kiss, each whispered breath.

I started unbuckling his belt, trying to get his jeans off. He laughed at my actions “You’re needy huh?” i grinned “shut up and take this off.” “anything for you baby.” he said while taking off his jeans, while i was undressing myself as well. He lined his cock at my entrance “Are you on the pill baby?” he asked “Yeah, got on it a few days ago.” i answered. “Good girl.” he smiled while slowly sliding into my cunt. I moaned— ‘Shit, baby you feel so good.’ he teased as he slowly started moving.

My hands gripping onto his biceps as he started going harder. “fuck— drew faster!” i screamed. He groaned at my words, slapping into me while rubbing my clit. “You like that baby, huh? You missed this dick?” he whispered in my ear. “Yes!” i screamed once again. “That’s what i thought, you gonna cum for me baby?” — i nodded, biting my lips while looking into his eyes. “Fuck—shit keep looking at me like that baby. Look at how i’m fucking this pussy”

I struggled keeping my eyes open. My mind fuzzy and head spinning— “I’m gonna cum drew don’t stop!” i screamed in pleasure. “C’mon baby cum for me.” he muttered while slapping my clit.

I screamed his name while i came, eyes rolling to the back of my head and my mouth falling wide open. Body numb while drew was still pushing into me making himself cum aswell. He pulled out, his seed dripping out of my pussy.

As Drew lay on top of you, your breaths mingling together, the room was filled with a serene silence. You gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, smiling as he looked up at you with a soft, contented expression. "That was incredible," he murmured, his voice tender. You nodded, running your fingers lightly across his back. "It really was," you whispered back, feeling a warm, comforting closeness as you both simply enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment.

@rafedarling you wanted some drew fics!! more coming up

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey fic #queer #rafe outer banks #my husband #drew starkey x reader #rafe obx #drew starkey smut

759 notes · View notes

jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

Text

Who Is In Control? (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Black!F!Villain!Reader x Hunter!Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: Sung Jinwoo is the highest-ranking hunter and the most powerful human being humanity has ever seen. So is Gojo Satoru. Both cocky, both confident, and both eager for more power, they compete against each other for each gate that seems to get more dangerous the farther and higher they go. They figure your gate won’t be any different and that you will be the usual big baddie that they need to take care of. Another cog in the system. Until they manage to beat you and find out who you truly are behind your facade. Now the hunters are hellbent on keeping you to themselves. So, what’s another friendly competition? Only this time, the prize is you.

Chapter Warnings: MILD SPOILERS (Nothing too crazy except naming Jinwoo's shadows & talking about his mom if you haven't read the story/watched the show yet!)

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Nothing smutty in this chapter lol. Just setting up for the rest of this random ass fic. Enjoy! -Jazz

CHAPTERS: PREFACE. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX.

*************

ONE: A FRIENDLY COMPETITION.

When Jinwoo awakens in the dead of night, when the entire city is sound asleep and not even an owl is hooting, he knows exactly why.

The screen, transparent and suspended in midair, appears in front of him as he sits up in his bed. He is not tired even when he only slept for thirty minutes after an extensive nighttime training session. He can still feel the burn in his muscles from the dumbbell lifts, the pushups, and curl-ups. And they are about to burn more.

Words pop up on the screen, bright and neon, almost stinging his eyes as he stares at it in his dark bedroom:

New S-Rank Gate Open…Transition To Red Gate in 3…

2…

1…

The screen suddenly turns red, dousing Jinwoo’s room in the color so he is bathed in it. “A Red Gate, huh?” he murmurs to himself, thoughtfully tapping his chin. No doubt something has gone wrong, and he is going to find out just what it is.

After getting the location of the gate, Jinwoo plants his big feet on his hardwood floor and zooms over to his drawers. He doesn’t put on much–just his usual blue hoodie, jeans, and sneakers to fit the cool early-summer air. He takes his phone, wallet, and keys before he is out the door, leaving his sister and mother to slumber and not worry at all about their brother and son out fighting fantastical, dangerous creatures for money.

The gate is not as close as Jinwoo initially thought. He is breaking a sweat by the time he arrives at the park across town. But he would rather it be here than anywhere near his family or his neighborhood. He needs to keep them safe.

Besides, he can tell this one will bring quite the treasures for him. As he jogged to his destination, his body buzzed with every step. His blood boiled, his veins hummed, and his head swam with the energy and power he could feel in the air from the gate.

Now, standing here and staring at it, he can definitely see that this is a danger zone. Hence the police tape and heavily-armed guards standing with the crowd of civilians that have begun to gather. They all want to catch a glimpse at the Red Gate pulsing with wild electricity, a red glow emanating from its portal-like opening. It pulls anything except humans into its wake–tree branches, rocks, dirt, nearly a dog if its owner didn’t wrap it up in his arms–and swallows it whole.

‘Whatever is in that gate must be a real bitch,’ Jinwoo hypothesizes.

Despite the throng of scared and astonished people, Jinwoo is hard to miss. Not only is he the face of the Hunters’ Guild, much to his dismay, but he is also about six-foot something, lean, and strikingly hot…not that he realizes it. He must think that the people ogling him are only doing so because they’ve seen his face on TV and YouTube.

A federal guard closest to him tries his best to ease the crowd, his hat nearly flying off his head due to the rush of wind from the gate. “Everyone stand back, please!” he orders. “It appears the S-Rank Gate has morphed into a Red Gate! We must wait until the Hunters’ Guild arrives to take care of this!”

Jinwoo rolls his eyes. If they wait for them, the gate will grow bigger and more hazardous. Suddenly, the screen appears in front of his face, signaling that he has found the gate. A Start button appears, ready to be pressed and plunge him into a new world filled with adventure, danger, and, hopefully, answers to his burning questions. “Found you,” he coos before he presses the Start button on the screen. “Let’s go.”

As the screen begins to count down from ten, Jinwoo vanishes from the naked eye in a blink and suddenly, to the shock of the crowd, appears in front of the yellow tape keeping the crowd out.

The guard turns, grabbing Jinwoo’s shoulder. “Wait, wait, sir!” he shouts. “Where are you going? I just said to…” His angered words die down when he catches a look at Jinwoo’s deadpan expression. Instantly, his eyes fill with recognition and his hand trembles. “H-Hunter Sung,” he stammers. “I’m so…I-I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” Jinwoo drawls out in his smooth, panty-dropping voice. “You’re just doin’ your job. Please allow me to take care of this for you and your team.” He gives the guard a reassuring smile and pats his hand before walking towards the gate, ignoring the shouts from the guards.

“Where is he going?!” one shouts. “He’s as good as dead in there!”

“Idiot, don’t you know who that is?!” another criticizes. “That’s–!”

Jinwoo doesn’t hear the rest because once the screen hits zero, he is immediately transported out of the park and into an entirely different world, universe, and realm. When he opens his eyes, he rapidly blinks to refocus his vision and examines his new surroundings that are currently in disarray.

It appears to be a kingdom. Medieval. Definitely somewhere in the Regency Era with its destroyed, village-like houses, cobblestone sidewalks, and the villainous castle off in the horizon that looks straight out of a Disney movie.

The gargoyles surrounding the windows growl and hiss, moving their stone heads from side to side, and ominous clouds storm in, swirling around the highest power of the castle pointed to a tip. Jagged rocks surround the outside of the castle, giving Jinwoo the impression that either the owner wants to keep themselves in or keep outsiders out.

The village is completely in flames and abandoned, meaning that its villagers have either been vacated or they are in hiding. The flames feel hot on Jinwoo’s face and he has to cover his mouth to avoid breathing in the smoke billowing in the air. ‘Not bad,’ he sarcastically thinks. ‘Nice atmosphere. Very inviting.’

He begins to look around, squinting through the floating embers and the darkness that the blackened clouds, crackling with lightning, cause. “Now, where is this Boss?” he murmurs to himself. He doesn’t feel anything right now that signals that a Boss is near and the game screen hasn’t appeared to…

He suddenly pauses and strains his neck to look, really look, yards away in the distance. “Da hell?” he cusses to himself. “No fuckin’ way.” He notices the long legs. The tallness and broad shoulders. The lean muscle. The confident stance. But what gets him immediately is the snow-white hair and the blindfold wrapped around his eyes that have been said to make a monster tremble.

Jinwoo is ready to crash the fuck out when he recognizes his unfortunate colleague and year-long opponent. “This asshole!’ he thinks, rageful and beyond pissed off. Immediately, he activates his teleportation and zips across the village to meet the white-haired man where he stands. He turns around as if sensing Jinwoo already and his shocked expression morphs into a cocky smile. “Well, shit,” he chuckles, putting a hand on his hip. “If it isn’t my favorite S-ranking hunter. To what do I owe the pleasure, Sung?”

Jinwoo grits his teeth as his name escapes Gojo Satoru’s cocky ass ass.

Everyone knows Gojo, including Jinwoo. As a fellow S-Rank Hunter who popped onto the scene after being an E-Rank and resurrecting after a bloody rave accident where he was literally sliced in half, Gojo moved from Japan to South Korea and once the Korean Hunters Association caught wind of his story, they took a shine to him immediately. Especially since, like Jinwoo, he continues to level up and gain more astronomical powers with every gate he beats.

Since his S-Rank, Gojo has beaten over fifteen gates. He shows it in the smattering of healed scars on his skin, the callouses in his hands, and the confidence in his gait. He is someone that has been compared to Jinwoo many times for showing the same cockiness during battle and the same aggression when faced with a Boss. Jinwoo can’t stand that. No one is like him.

This is why he and Gojo have engaged in a rivalry for months now. ‘Friendly’ battles during training that change into fights that the other Hunters have to break up. Unspoken agreements on who can beat a Boss first. Side-eyes and heated glances shot to each other at press conferences and at meetings that build enough tension for a chainsaw.

Jinwoo can’t stand the man, but he also cannot deny that Gojo is one powerful Hunter. But that doesn’t mean he can come here to his gate and snatch it away. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he spits.

Gojo puts his hands up like he’s claiming a wild animal, animated and asshole-ish as ever. “Whooooa, you’d better watch yourself, Sung. I don’t take too well to aggression. You kiss your mother with that mouth? How is she, by the way?” A sly smile crosses his lips. “Actually, how’s–”

“Don’t even say her name,” Jinwoo growls. It’s bad enough that his sister has a crush on Gojo, damn near melting when he came to her school to meet the students after a gate broke out in the hallway. Gojo keeps his hands up in defense. “My bad.”

Jinwoo impatiently huffs, pinching his sinuses. “Gojo, I thought we had an agreement to not ambush each other’s Red Gate raves.”

Now the white-haired hottie’s smile fades, replaced with an incredulous frown. “Hold up, I never agreed to shit,” Gojo argues. “I’m not followin’ you or nothin’, as paranoid as you are. I was asked to come here by the Hunters Guild since I live closer to the Gate’s location.”

Jinwoo scrunches his brows at the mention of the Hunters Association. “Wait…you’re with the Guild now?” This Guild in particular has been asking Jinwoo for his agreement to join for some time now, but each time, he turns them down. He isn’t just in this anymore for the money or to protect others. He needs answers and a Guild isn’t going to understand that.

“Oh, hell no!” Gojo guffaws, waving a passive hand as fire continues to flame behind him. “Don’t get me wrong: I’m cool with most of the members, but I have no interest in splittin’ my pay after risking my life for humanity with a bunch of subpar S-Ranks.”

He pulls down his blindfold an inch, giving Jinwoo a wink of his blue eye. “They’re not like us,” he whispers, an almost sinister smirk on his face. “Plus, I’m a greedy motherfucker.”

Jinwoo doesn’t reply. He is too busy resisting the urge to punch the man in his face. Gojo cocks his head to the side, placing his hands on his slim hips. “Y’know, I think you’re just scared that I’m gonna get to the Boss before you and your Walking Dead army do.”

Now, Jinwoo does speak, but it is not to Gojo. It is rather to his invisible friends that do not reveal themselves until the five-lettered, two-syllable word is uttered in a powerful commanding tone: “Arise.”

The way Gojo’s smile wavers makes Jinwoo bloom with pride and joy as his shadowy red knight appears beside him. “I’d be very careful about the way you talk to me, Gojo,” Jinwoo warns. “You might piss somebody off.” Ingris steps forward, looming over Gojo with his sword at his hip. “And he doesn’t take too well to someone disrespecting his master,” Jinwoo adds. Ingris keeps his hand on his sword, never moving and never keeping his shadowy eyes off of Gojo. The S-Rank sighs, pressing a hand to his heart. “That’s my bad, alright? Your army of the undead is kinda cool.”

Jinwoo smirks and lays a hand on Ingris’ shoulder. “Chill out, Ingris.” The red knight immediately lowers his sword and bows, obedient and subservient. Gojo looks a bit perturbed, but not enough to show too much fear. Even the biggest, baddest hunter would be afraid of a shitload of dead Bosses staring dead at you. “Look, I’m not here to steal your gate from you, but you ain’t the only one who wants to level up time after time…and find out why.”

The smile that Gojo wears now is knowing and sharp. Something darker is hidden beneath it and puts Jinwoo on edge. “What do you mean?”

Gojo chuckles, shaking his head. “C’mooon, Sung, you seem like a smart guy. You wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t.” He claps a hand on Jinwoo’s shoulder and the dark-haired S-Rank pushes it off. Gojo barely acknowledges the brush-off. “You can’t tell me I’m not the only one who knows that it ain’t a coincidence that we’re the only two S-ranking hunters in Japan with abilities like the ones we have.”

Abilities like we have. Powers that transcend the usual ones of an S-Ranked Hunter. Jinwoo knows exactly what Gojo means and he hates that he does. “We came back for a reason,” Gojo continues, “and I know you don’t just come to these gates day after day for a power-up.” The smirk on his face grows, appearing like he can see right through Jinwoo’s lowkey personality and cool facade.

Jinwoo’s palms begin to sweat, his body entering into fight or flight as if Gojo is danger. And he is. He is too close to Jinwoo’s truth. “You don’t know anything about what I do,” he hisses. He walks up to Gojo, nearly closing the gap between them. “And if you keep talkin’, I’ll know my shadows would be delighted to have two somethings to battle in this gate.”

Gojo’s smile grows hard and he cocks his head to the side. He doesn’t step back or flinch as Jinwoo grows closer, nearly brushing his nose against Gojo’s. “Is that a threat?” Jinwoo’s eyes flash an electric blue and he can feel his shadows’ energy shift at the reaction of his power. “That’s a promise.”

Still no flinching. Still no sign of hesitation or fear. Gojo is as cool as ice, but so is Jinwoo. He fears nothing. Finally, after a tense stand-off that even Ingris grows wary of, Gojo throws in the towel and is the first to take a step back. “Fine, be defiant,” he huffs, overdramatically craning his neck. “But since I’m here and can’t get out till the Gate opens again, why don’t we have another friendly competition?”

The grin that stretches across his lips is mischievous and wicked. The same grin he gives Jinwoo in the gym or the training room for a fight. The dark-haired hunter sighs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Fine, I’ll bite: what’s your proposition?”

Gojo is happy to explain. “Whoever is the first to kill the Boss good and dead wins some good sake and the grand prize of a power-up.” Jinwoo thinks about it for a moment. He knows he can have that advantage with his powers. Besides, some good and free sake doesn’t sound too bad.

“Deal.” The two hunters jut their hands out and firmly shake on it.

“Now arise,” Jinwoo commands. Gojo furrows his brows at him, perplexed. “Excuse me?” he asks.

Jinwoo points behind Gojo’s back and the white-haired hunter turns, cussing at the sight of the S-Ranked hunter’s shadowy soldiers appearing out of thin air in clouds of smoke. Ice bears, orcs, ants, and every other Boss that Jinwoo has killed so far and resurrected appears behind him, standing behind their master like soldiers. Beru, the talking ant, and Tusk, the King of Orcs, are among them. Ingris goes to stand with them, obedient and only serving the one and only Sung Jinwoo.

Gojo glares at his colleague, off put by the shadows. “What, you tryna make me a soldier too?” Jinwoo wraps a cape around his shoulders, smirking. “Perhaps in the future,” he sniggers. But just as quickly as his smile came, it fades as he regards his shadows. “Scout the perimeter and take out any threat in your sight. Leave the Boss to me.”

Immediately, his soldiers take off, each one scrambling in different directions, some in the air and some on ground. Jinwoo stands with pride as he watches them, knowing that he has this in the bag. “Hey, that’s cheating!” Gojo argues. “You can’t use your army to do your killing for you!”

Jinwoo glares at the white-haired hottie, tapping his ear. “Clearly, you’re hard of hearing. Aren’t you supposed to be good at everything? I said for them to leave the Boss to me. You should be thankful that I’m minimizing the obstacles for you.” A smirk pulls at his lips. “Or are you just scared that you’ll lose?”

In the blink of an eye, a portal appears behind Gojo, one that he no doubt made. He gives Jinwoo a confident, cocky grin, flashing his pearly whites. “Nah, I’d win. Every single time.” And after greeting Jinwoo farewell, he disappears.

“Cocky motherfucker,” Jinwoo mutters before he bends his knees in preparation for a jump. With a grunt, he jumps, suddenly airborne, and lands on top of a crumbling building. Then he’s shooting off from the top of the roof for another, going higher and higher each time, heading towards his target.

Heading straight for you.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #black writers #my fic shit #jjk smut #poly smut #solo leveling smut #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo smut #solo leveling x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #sung jin woo #anime crossover #anime smut

193 notes · View notes