#guess who did it wrong the first time around

[jupiterpilgrim]

Contracts

Mina x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because being with her felt good. It felt right.

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

And then there was the night you kissed her.

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

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

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

But that was the last time you saw her.

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

No forwarding address. No explanation. Just gone.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

That’s when you remember the card.

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

Now, though…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s her.

Mina.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mina. After all this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“A few,” she admits, glancing at you.

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

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

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

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

And then, she surprises you again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she’s there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“You’re not going anywhere,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

“Come in,” you call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

You frown slightly. “Fine?”

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

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

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

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

“They don’t have proof,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Then, without warning, you cut through the quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moment the words leave your mouth, Mina breaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not quite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s gone,” you say, glancing down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

Then, there was Mina.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s everything going?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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the right one - Charles Leclerc

summary. charles never forgot himself for letting you go. when arthur lose you, he is the one who has the heal your broken heart this time.

words count. 4,313

what to expect. it's the second part of the other one. I guess you can read it separately but some things might not make sense (specially the glue part). inspired by congratulations from Hamilton. mention of cheating, everyone is so sad in this story I'm sorry (im not) and arthur is terrible boyfriend

a/n. can you believe i told @monzabee about this fic in December 2023??? and it's finally out after all this time. I'm so happy I finally did it and gave these two another part, they deserve love and happiness.

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

When he first heard them, Charles didn’t want to believe the rumors.

For the winter break, he decided to go on a road trip in Italy with his best friends. For multiple reasons, he chose to get rid of any type of social media. Charles needed a real break after the season that had been more difficult than he thought it would. 

Also because a part of him still hasn’t gotten over you.

It was too difficult to see Arthur post pictures and stories with you all the time. And if he couldn’t escape it, nor you in the paddock during the season, Charles decided to leave all his bad feelings behind for a few weeks.

No matter how hard he tried these past months, Charles couldn’t get rid of his love for you. If he ignored you during the end of last season, even if he had your glue everywhere with him, he wanted to be nicer this year. 

Not like he had a choice if he wanted to keep a good relationship with Arthur, who still had no idea about what happened between you and Charles. He also wasn’t completely stupid: he knew it could look bad on him if he kept ignoring the photographer around the paddock. 

And it would be a lie to say that he didn’t miss you. Sure, a part of him was still aching when he was making you laugh and smile, thinking he couldn’t have the privilege to see that every day for the rest of his life because you chose Arthur over him. But he tried to be more mature and accept that if this was the best he could have, then he would appreciate it.

This was also one of the reasons why he couldn’t believe the rumors when he heard them. There was no universe in which someone would purposely hurt you.

The first time he heard about the rumors, it was because some friends from Monaco sent him a text. “What’s going on with Arthur? Is it true?” Charles was more than confused. What could be true about his brother? He didn’t want to sound stupid to ask them but still didn’t want to put his social media back on his phone.

So he turned to Joris. Because that man knew everything that there is to know. And because he knew that his friend would never lie to him. This explained the embarrassed expression on his face when Charles asked him if he knew anything about something Arthur might have done.

“You sure you want to know?” he asked him. Charles understood that something serious was going on. Even when the truth was ugly, Joris never asked him if he really wanted him to be honest. Not when Ferrari was not doing great, not when fans criticized him, not when everyone had something to say about his private life. But he didn’t hesitate a single second and agreed to hear the truth.

“Apparently…your brother cheated on his girlfriend.” Charles’ world went silent for a few seconds. That couldn’t be true. He couldn't believe it. People must be wrong and bored and choose to create drama because of the off-season. Right? 

“Actually…” Joris continued. “It’s not really a rumor since Arthur basically admitted it.”

It was a damper. 

Charles left for a few weeks, and his brother decided to ruin everything he gave up his own happiness for?

“Is it true?” He sent Arthur. No explanation.

“Yes.” He only answered.

It took Charles only a few hours to come back to Monaco. On the plane back, he opened his social media again, answered some comments and messages, and shared some Ferrari stuff. And looked at the mess Arthur created.

“Let’s review…” Charles started. As soon as he arrived, he asked Arthur and Lorenzo to come with him in the living room to discuss. They all stayed at the family house to deal with the major crisis. From what he learned, paparazzis were going around Monaco to catch any of you: Lorenzo, Arthur, and especially you. The victim of all this mess. 

Charles still hasn't seen you, though. Lorenzo’s girlfriend took you for a ride away from there, knowing Charles was coming back and that there would be a confrontation between the brothers. You didn’t need to hear about all that again. You knew the story. Well, you knew some parts of it. You refused to hear Arthur’s explanation. 

Charles knew it was for the better, but he still couldn’t wait to see you. Scared of how you would be. Scared of how he will react too.

He finally took a big breath before continuing. “This girl pretended to be pregnant with your child. And instead of just saying that you didn’t have sex with her, you said she wasn’t the one you slept with?” He chose his words wisely, taking the time to say everything correctly. Even if there were no good ways to talk about this situation.

“I panicked! What should I have done?”

“Don't say anything!” he screamed back, slamming his hands on the table. “You should have just shut your mouth and not said a fucking thing.”

“Charles…” Lorenzo warned him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

He sighed and apologized, trying to calm down. His brother was right; there was no use being aggressive against Arthur. The harm has been done and couldn’t be undone. But when he gave his baby brother a look, he couldn’t handle it. Arthur looked like he didn’t understand why Charles was so angry. Like he couldn’t see the real harm in this. “Or better, you shouldn’t have cheated,” he added. 

Everything stopped around the three brothers. “Charles!” Lorenzo repeated, louder this time and with a more authoritarian tone. Like there was back in childhood when he had to play the big brother between the two younger brothers fighting for the same car. 

Except this time, it was for the same girl.

Charles knew he had to calm down and play it more cleverly. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, trying to think of a way to say things more nicely without making Arthur turn on him. He didn’t even know how he could do that: he was so mad at his brother for doing such a stupid thing.

“Aren’t you supposed to support me?” Arthur asked with a disdainful voice that made Charles look up immediately. He couldn’t even find the right way to answer this. Maybe Arthur could feel the disappointment, which is why he looked that angry. He was never the Leclerc who disappointed the family.

Lorenzo had a lot of pressure as the big brother, the one that had to be a model and perfect at any point. Charles had the celebrity pressure; being the most famous Leclerc, he had to behave perfectly. But Arthur? Everybody saw him as the baby, never accepting any bad decisions from him. Or even when he did, he was forgiven immediately.

He was not used to having people being mad at him. You were, which was already a problem. But Charles was too, and that he couldn’t handle. This explained why Arthur went upstairs silently. Well, as silently as he was, hitting the staircase loudly. 

Charles let out a loud sigh when Arthur disappeared. “You two need to talk.” Lorenzo told him, to which he agreed without the desire to deal with that right now. Instead, he started talking with his more reasonable brother about their holidays. He knew Arthur needed some minutes to calm down.

He needed them too.

He only decided to go upstairs when he saw the car parking in front of the house. You were back. 

And he couldn’t face you right now.

— 

“Thank you for coming.” Charles stopped what he was doing after that sentence. He had finally gone to see Arthur after you came back home. He waited just a minute to hear your voice, even if he couldn’t see you. He had no idea if he should accept some good or bad feeling from hearing you. He was torn between the fire that lit up again in his heart from your simple words and the hurt of knowing he was only there because of his and Arthur's bad decisions.

After he entered his brother’s room, the one he assumed you shared with him, they both stayed silent for a moment. Charles was dealing with his social media when Arthur finally decided to speak. 

And Charles was more confused than he should be. What did this mean? He turned around to look at Arthur. He was still standing next to the window, watching you outside talking with Lorenzo’s girlfriend. There was something on Arthur’s face that Charles didn’t like. Almost like he couldn’t understand why you came back. Why were you still around? Like he was waiting for you to go away after what happened. 

“I don’t know how to deal with that. I needed you here.” 

This time, it was Charles that couldn’t truly understand what was going on. Actually, no, he can. He loved his baby brother with his whole heart and would have done anything for him. To protect him. To save him from whatever situation he put himself into. But now, looking at him with the whole situation going around, Charles realized something. 

Arthur knew. He knew that Charles would have always come to his rescue. Sacrifice things for him. Do anything for his brother’s happiness before his. And that’s what he was expecting from today too.

“No.” Charles first said, mostly for himself. But it made Arthur turn around too, curious. For the rest, it came out more confidently. Like a part of him had been waiting for ages to finally say these words. “I’m not here for you.” 

He heard Arthur’s nervous laugh, and he took a step back. He wasn’t even scared of his brother; it would have been stupid for many reasons. No, he was more scared of his own mind right now. He still couldn’t believe he said it. Out loud. What he was thinking from the start.

You became his priority. 

You had been for so long. 

But Arthur didn’t let him go away with him and took this step forward and some others. “What do you mean?”

“You fucked up, Arthur.” Charles started, pointing at the window. Pointing at you. “You cheated on your girlfriend. She was willing to give up everything for you; she already did in the past. And you thank her like that? By sleeping with some other girl you don’t even know? Do you seriously think that’s what she deserves?” 

Arthur looked at him blankly. With just a smirk. Not a fun or laughing one. No, a mean one. One that Charles had never seen on his brother. It was almost like he was discovering a new face for his baby brother. And the worst was yet to come.

“You still love her.” Arthur said with an emotionless voice. And it was a real hit in the heart for Charles. He never thought that Arthur knew about his feelings. Sure, he had never been more discreet when it came to his heart. And the way he went from praising you to ignoring you during the weekend said a lot. Maybe the worst part wasn’t much that Arthur knew about his feelings. It was that he knew and let Charles sacrifice himself for him. “I should have expected it. She’s hard to forget, I guess.”

“You’re going to learn now.” Arthur laughed at this answer because it was the truth. He played, and he lost. Just like Charles did last year, technically. If Charles gave up, Arthur lost at his own game. The game over wasn’t the same, except for the fact the lost prize was the same: you. You and your heart. You and your beautiful smile were maybe gone for longer than it should have been.

Charles couldn’t handle it anymore. The more he stayed in this room, the more he was getting hate for his brother, and it was definitely not the family dynamic he wanted. So he walked to the door, ready to leave. Or to finally do what he wanted from the beginning. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Charles turned around one last time to look at his brother. But Arthur wasn’t looking at him. He took his place back, near the window. Watching you. From there, it looked like he was trapped in some kind of prison. One he was to blame for being in. But maybe the real story behind this was that he was the watchman and you were the prisoner. At least for now.

“Why did you let me date her?” 

“Sometimes you love someone so much you accept to put their happiness before yours.” Arthur gave him one single look. One that said everything that needed to be known. He wasn’t the one Charles gave up his happiness for. He did it thinking it was the right decision for you.

— 

When Charles went outside, you were still there. Alone this time. You sat on the swing seat, your eyes locked on your own shoes, not giving any interest to the environment around you. Charles’ heart broke a little at this sight. The sun wasn’t supposed to stop shining on the people around it. You weren’t supposed to stop being this joyful person. 

Even if he tried to walk slowly and not scare you, you jumped when Charles sat next to you. “Sorry,” he immediately mumbled. You offered him a small smile while he was trying to find a good seat. Ironically, he was making it move even more and making it harder to sit.

You were the one holding on to the structure to slow the movements. “I’m not great at this.” He laughed nervously. Charles didn’t know how to act around you. It wasn’t easy most of the time. But now it was even harder. They never teach you how to act around the woman you loved and let go, but even less when this same woman got her heart broken by your brother. 

“Thank God you’re better behind the wheel,” you replied, now looking straight in front of you. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You felt guilty. Sure, this whole situation wasn’t your fault; nothing could ever make you think that. But you hated that Charles had to comfort you now. After what happened between you last year, it didn’t feel right. Or fair. 

Charles shrugged, purposely hitting on your shoulder while doing it. “Well, you’re not seeing him when I sit in the car.” You turned your face to him and couldn’t contain a laugh when you saw his proud expression. In the dark, his smile was the small light you needed to not break down. It made you feel like there was still hope out there.

So when Charles stopped smiling, naturally a tear fell from your eye. “I’m so stupid,” you sighed, playing with your fingers. Immediately, he grabbed one of your hands and started playing with them too. You remember how it was something you did to him back then, when there was still something building around you. When he walked out of the car, he wasn’t very proud of what he did.

You both had the same habit of playing with your hands to avoid eye contact and focusing on something else. 

You also both had the same habit of grabbing each other’s hand to help ease the anxiety. 

“I never thought Ar…he would break my heart like that,” you confessed in a quiet and broken voice. A voice that was like a knife right in Charles’ heart. “You said it yourself, he has a pure heart. So why did he change? What did I do wrong?” 

You started crying again. And Charles was fighting to not break down too. He hated seeing you like this. He hated that he was the one pushing you into Arthur’s arms. If Charles didn’t cause the pain, he was the triggering factor. If only he had been more selfish and kept you for himself, this wouldn’t have happened.

He got up, making the structure move again, but this time you didn’t have the strength to hold it. But the swinging didn’t last long. Charles immediately kneeled in front of you, grabbing your legs to stop you from swaying. And once you were stable, one of his hands moved to your face softly. You didn’t hesitate a single second before cuddling against it, even if it meant your tears would now fall on his fingers. If you didn’t want to share your pain with him, that was all Charles was asking. To take it with him so you would feel less hurt.

“You have nothing to do with Arthur’s mistakes, ok? I hate to say that, but I was wrong. I really thought he would treat you better than…” He stopped for a second, closing his eyes to consider what he wanted to say. But he was tired of holding back his words. “Better than I would. I never imagined he would do that; otherwise, I would have never pushed you in his arms. You deserve better, ok?” 

You were absorbing every single word he was saying. Trying to remember every millisecond of his monologue so you could recite it before going to sleep that night and all the following ones when you would remember giving your heart to the wrong brother. 

“You deserve the world.” Charles pursued. You watched as he put a hand in his jacket pocket to get something. “And I hope one day you’ll find the strength to open that glue too and accept the help from someone to heal your broken heart.” 

He handed you the glue. The very same glue you gave him for his birthday. You weren’t quite sure Charles had healed his heart; he wasn’t sure himself. 

The fact he kept it this whole time—more than that, that he had it with him tonight—was the forward thrust you needed.

You thanked him silently, with a smile that he understood immediately. Charles stayed like that for another minute, brushing away the tears that were still falling and caressing your knee in the softest way you’ve ever felt.

Then he sat back on the swing seat, with more precaution this time. For the next ten minutes, he tried to change your mind by speaking of the last season and what was coming. You didn’t speak much, except for some reactions here and there. The conversation wasn’t the real distraction in the end.

It was seeing Charles so full of life, something you’ve waited to see since you’ve met him. Deep down, you took it as proof that a better future was coming.

“Let’s go inside.” Charles offered after noticing the shivers in your body grow bigger. “I can escort you to your room.” He knew that you were staying in the guest room. It wasn’t hard to guess anyway, as all the brothers took their own room, and there was no way you would be sleeping with Arthur that night. 

A part of him wished he could comfort you to sleep anyway. 

Especially after you grabbed his hand to follow him inside. So lightly that he could let it go easily if he didn’t pay attention. But enough for him to feel the contact of your skin together and feel the heat growing in him. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered to him, closing the door. Charles hated how he only noticed now how your makeup had actually been ruined through the day.

___

Charles was taking his shirt off when he heard slight bangs on his door. He was clearly not expecting anybody, especially not now and not in his family house. 

His mom was already asleep; Lorenzo was never the type to come when the doors were closed; Arthur still hadn’t come back from what he knew. So it didn’t leave many possibilities.

As he could expect, you were the one behind the door when he opened it. Charles found it sad that you were still wearing the same pajamas you probably brought for your holiday: an old shirt that he recognized from Arthur’s wardrobe and a short that was showing too much leg for his own good. 

But what made him even sadder was the expression on your face. If he thought you looked sad earlier, it was nothing compared to now.

“Do you mind if…” You didn’t even finish your sentence before your voice broke down. Charles moved aside to let you come in, giving a look in the corridor to make sure you were alone. Even if he didn’t have to explain himself if anybody saw you. 

He would never let you be alone in the situation. Nor ever, now that he thought about it.

What he didn’t expect was that the moment he closed the door, you would fall in his arms. You didn’t show much attention to him except for accepting the one he gave you earlier. But you were the one who initiated it. Compared to now.

“I'm so tired of this, Charles,” you mumbled against his naked chest. The first thing that came to your mind was how you never felt more safe and comfortable than right now, in his arms. Not even Arthur could make for his big brother natural reassurance. 

It was something that has always been true about Charles. People, friends, members of the team, family, and anyone who needed to feel comfort knew they could go to Charles for this. If he felt like he wasn’t always finding the right words, it seemed to work enough for people to feel better when they left.

Maybe that was always true about him too. People never seemed to stay.

“He’s not planning on coming back, and he left alone here, in your family house? What am I even supposed to do here by myself?” You started again, sounding angrier now. “I can’t fucking sleep in his bed because it makes me sick. Sleeping in the guest bed makes me feel bad because I don’t belong here. I feel bad because he’s not here. But he’s the one who fucked up. Why do I feel bad? Why do I feel guilty? Charles, I…”

Every word you said was like a knife in the heart for him. Hurting more than the punches you were hitting on his chest.

With each hour passing from this morning, Charles felt worse about the decision he took months ago. He should have never let you go. He would have never treated you this way. 

When you broke down, Charles held you harder against his chest. He was humming, trying to calm you down. His head was above yours, and at some point, he naturally started kissing your hair. He was trying to create a peaceful bubble where you would feel at ease. Less sad.

“You can sleep here,” Charles offered in a whisper. “I don’t mind.” 

It wasn’t until you were lying in his bed that you asked the question. Charles’ idea was to let you sleep in his bed and for him to sleep in the guest room. At least you didn’t risk Arthur coming at night, and he could deal with his brother. It never occurred to you that you would ask for the situation to be different.

But you grabbed his hand after he moved the sheet up your chest. “Would you…can you stay with me? Please?” 

Charles looked at you with confusion but also hope. A hope that lowered over the months but that never died. He replied with a simple nod and sweet smile. A reassuring one. In a home where you probably felt unwelcome, even if it wasn’t entirely true, Charles wanted you to know you were at the right place right now.

So he didn’t waste another minute and went to lie next to you. The boundaries were pretty obvious with each of you sleeping at the end of the bed and with a gap between your bodies. While you were facing the wall, he was on his back, trying to organize the mess that had been that day. 

Right when he closed his eyes to try to sleep, he felt the mattress moving. He couldn’t resist giving you a look. You were now facing him with your eyes open. “Charles?” you whispered. 

He was obviously awake, yet you were scared of disturbing him. But he gave you that smile. The one he only had the secret. The one that opened the door to his life, his head, his heart. 

“Will it be ok?” 

You knew he would understand what you meant.

When you met Charles, he was so heartbroken that he chose to put all the good things in his life aside because he felt like he didn’t deserve to be happy anymore. And even if his anxiety was still a battle he had to fight every day, it got better. A few months ago, he probably would have ignored you because he would have thought it wasn’t his place to comfort you. To be the good person in your life.

But there he was, sharing a bed with you. Thinking that maybe tomorrow could be better. And that two days later could be even better.

He knew.

That was why he took your hand, the one resting on your pillow next to your face. He held it until you chose to intertwine your fingers together. A contact you both needed. To heal the past and the future.

Charles moved to lie on his side, facing you. And with his thumb brushing your skin, he gave you the only thing you needed to hear that night.

The only thing he also needed to say. 

“It will. I promise."

[luvfae]

omg hiii ! i loved ur mini series CENTER STAGE and i wanted to know if i could request a thanos fanfic :p btw i love ur accs theme its BEAUTIFUL :3 so basically y/n breaks up w her boyfriend su bong because he does to much drugs XD so she tries to find a small job as far as possible from her old work place because she knows he will come visit (iykyk) Y/N starts working in a gaz station in the highway ! And guess what her dear dear ex bf thanos finds her :p im so sorry if is this so badly written btw you can do litteraly whatever you want (smut,angst,fluff its really up to you) OFC dont feel pressured to do this request and if you do pls tag me :) TOODLES

YOU CAN RUN, BUT

YOU CAN’T HIDE

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy), public sex, swearing, thanos is lowkey a stalker

You should’ve known better.

You should’ve known he wouldn’t just let you go.

It had been two months since you left him. Two months since you packed up and disappeared, taking nothing but the essentials, leaving behind the mess of a man who had become more of a ghost than a lover.

Thanos had always been reckless, but the drugs made him worse. He was slipping, spiraling, drowning in a lifestyle that had already eaten away at him, and no matter how much you tried to pull him back, he wouldn’t stop. So you left. Because if he was going to destroy himself, you refused to let him take you down with him.

You thought you had escaped.

But you were wrong.

You got a job at a gas station on the highway—a quiet, out-of-the-way place that barely saw more than a handful of customers on a good day. You liked it. The silence. The stillness. The fact that no one knew you here.

Until tonight.

Until him.

You felt it before you saw him—that suffocating weight pressing against your ribs, the eerie sense of being watched. The store was empty, the dim fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as you restocked the shelves.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

You turned.

And there he was.

Thanos.

Standing in the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, watching you like a predator who had just found his prey.

Your stomach twisted.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he smirked. “Took me a while to find you.”

Your throat went dry.

He took a slow step forward, then another, the automatic doors sliding shut behind him. The air in the store grew thick, the walls closing in.

“Nice place,” he said, glancing around before letting his gaze settle back on you. “Not really your vibe, though.”

Your fingers curled into the edge of the shelf. “What are you doing here?”

He cocked his head. “What do you think?”

Your pulse hammered against your ribs. He was high—you could see it in his eyes, that dark, hazy look that always meant trouble. But there was something else, too. Something sharper.

Something dangerous.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly.

His smirk faded. “Yeah?”

His steps were slow, deliberate, as he closed the distance between you. You forced yourself to stay still, even when every nerve in your body screamed at you to run.

Then he was right in front of you, so close you could smell the faint traces of smoke and cologne clinging to his hoodie.

“You left,” he murmured.

Your fingers twitched. “Yeah.”

His gaze flickered over your face, as if searching for something. Then, in a voice quieter than before—softer, in a way that made your chest ache—he asked, “Why?”

You swallowed hard.

“You know why.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

His hand lifted. Not to grab you. Not to hurt you. Just to touch.

You flinched.

That made something in his expression crack.

“Did I ever hurt you?” His voice was low, rough.

You hesitated. “No.”

“Then why?”

Your breath shook. “Because you were hurting yourself.”

Silence.

For the first time, Thanos looked away. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

Then, just as quickly, the softness vanished.

His hand shot out, gripping your jaw—not rough, but firm, holding you in place.

“You think you can run from me?” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your pulse pounded. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. Instead, his thumb traced your bottom lip, almost absently, his expression darkening.

“You left me,” he said. “Do you know what that did to me?”

You shuddered. “Thanos—”

His grip tightened just enough to make you gasp. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that you were his.

“You broke me,” he muttered.

Then he kissed you.

And it wasn’t gentle.

It was teeth, tongue, and desperation—his hands moving from your jaw to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he wanted to crawl inside your skin. You gasped against his mouth, your hands shoving against his chest, but he only kissed you harder.

You hated that you kissed him back.

Hated the way your body melted into him like it never forgot, like it never wanted to forget.

Hated that part of you missed this.

“Mine,” he murmured against your lips. “You were always mine.”

His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, hoisting you onto the counter like he belonged between your legs. Like he had every right to claim you again.

And maybe he did.

Because you weren’t sure you had ever stopped belonging to him.

And that terrified you.

His hands were everywhere.

Sliding up your thighs. Digging into your waist. Claiming, possessing, reminding.

You shouldn’t let this happen. You should push him away, tell him to leave, remind yourself why you ran in the first place.

But you didn’t.

Because the moment his lips crashed against yours again—hot, desperate, hungry—you were already gone.

Thanos groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as he pulled you flush against him. You could feel him—hard, needy, pressing against the seam of your jeans like he’d been craving this as much as you had.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips. “You’re still so fucking perfect.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid under your shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before pushing up, dragging the fabric with them. You arched into his touch, and he wasted no time yanking your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before his mouth was on you again.

His lips found your neck, kissing, sucking, biting. He wanted to mark you. Wanted you to remember who you belonged to.

You gasped as his hands unclipped your bra, letting it fall away before he palmed your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples.

“You missed me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your pulse point. “Didn’t you?”

You refused to answer.

So he punished you.

His mouth moved lower, trailing over your collarbone, down your sternum, until he was sucking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

A whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it.

That made him grin.

“Yeah,” he muttered, kissing his way down your stomach as his hands made quick work of your jeans. “That’s what I thought.”

Your jeans hit the floor. Your panties followed. And then he was kneeling in front of you, his mouth inches from where you ached for him most.

You clenched your thighs together, but he pried them apart easily, gripping your knees as he looked at you.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, his thumb teasing over your slit. “Did I do that?”

You shuddered.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I fucking did.”

And then his mouth was on you.

You choked on a gasp, your back arching as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow and deliberate. He groaned against you, as if he had been starving for this, as if he had missed the taste of you like a man deprived.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, and you nearly screamed.

Your hands shot to his hair, gripping, tugging, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

He loved it.

“Hold on to me,” he muttered against your heat before diving back in, eating you out like he wanted to ruin you.

Your legs trembled. Your body burned.

And when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right—fuck.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

You did.

Your body locked up, pleasure crashing over you in waves as he worked you through your orgasm, sucking, licking, owning you.

When you finally slumped against the counter, breathless, he pulled back—his lips glossy, his eyes dark, his smirk filthy.

“Not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, unbuckling his belt.

And the moment he pulled his cock out, thick and hard and aching, you knew you were in trouble.

Because you weren’t going to stop this.

Not tonight.

Not when he was looking at you like he would die if he didn’t have you.

And maybe—just maybe—you felt the same.

You sat on the counter, praying on one would come into the store, legs spread just for him. His cock pressed against your slick folds, teasing, sliding, waiting.

Without warning, he thrust inside you—deep, all of him, stretching you open in one slow, unbearable motion.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to the thick, perfect burn of him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling forward, forehead pressed against yours. “You’re still so fucking tight.”

You clenched around him in response, just to be a brat.

His grip on your thighs tightened.

“Don’t start.” His voice was strained, barely in control. “Or I won’t be nice.”

You smirked. “You’re never nice.”

He laughed—dark, low, wrecked.

And then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace. Every snap of his hips slammed you against the counter, his hands gripping your waist, holding you still so he could take everything.

You were already unraveling, your body too overwhelmed, too sensitive from before. You felt everything—the drag, the stretch, the way he hit just right every time he bottomed out.

“Look at you,” he muttered, watching your face, watching every reaction. “Taking me so fucking well.”

You whimpered, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss—sloppy, desperate, more teeth than lips.

He swallowed your moans, groaning as he fucked into you harder, faster. The counter shook beneath you, the sounds of skin slapping and breathless gasps filling the small, dimly lit gas station.

“Missed this pussy,” he muttered against your mouth. “Missed the way you squeeze me—fuck, baby—”

Your thighs clenched around his waist, locking him in, pulling him deeper.

His rhythm stuttered. His jaw clenched.

And then he lost it.

He grabbed you, yanking you against him, fucking you harder, chasing his release, chasing yours.

Your orgasm hit you fast, ripping through you like fire, your nails sinking into his back as you came with a broken cry.

He followed, his hips jerking, his breath ragged as he spilled inside you, filling you, owning you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Just panting. Clinging. Feeling.

Then, after a long pause, his lips brushed your ear.

“Told you,” he murmured, voice wrecked but smug.

You frowned. “Told me what?”

His teeth nipped your jaw, lazy, possessive.

“You can run,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your spine, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“But you can’t hide.”

[chariaki]

The classic meet cute!

Kento Nanami x reader

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

Kento Nanami's first time meeting you was when he went to his usual park, only to find it crowded, but in the midst of it all, he saw you, lovely under the sun's shine.

He had grown accustomed to spending his weekends in quiet solitude, usually nestled in a corner of the park, away from the chaos of the world. But today was different—today, the park was brimming with life, filled with kids running around, families having picnics, and pets playfully darting between the crowds. Apparently, there was a school event going on.

His eyes scanned the scene, but they paused when they landed on you. There you were, sitting in a beautiful sundress, your attention completely absorbed by a cat you were delightfully feeding. He couldn’t help but watch you for a moment— it's as if you sat in perfect placement under the sun's warm light—but the moment was short-lived.

The feline, a curious one, suddenly saw him and, before he could react, wrapped her tail around his leg.

Kento Nanami who froze, didn't know what to feel. It was a mix of emotions, the weird warm feeling from the cat on his leg—or was it because of you who sat sunkissed, and is now looking straight at him!?

Did he have something on his face? Or worse, a stain on his shirt from the sandwich he had just eaten?

You looked at him, and for a moment, as cliché as he disliked it to say, he felt like the world went in slow motion.

Kento Nanami whose heart skipped. Why were you staring at him for so long? He awkwardly looked down at his shirt and wiped his hands as if to check if there was something wrong with him.

"Hello!" he blurted, the pitch of his voice higher than usual.

Ugh, that was smooth.

You smiled, a soft gleam in your eyes. "Hi!"

You returned the same energy, easy and light.

Kento Nanami whose face flushed in embarrassment, and he turned away in a hasty retreat, hoping his awkwardness wouldn’t be the highlight of your day.

But as he turned, the universe had other plans.

The cat, apparently struck by Kento’s exit, decided your jacket was far more interesting than the crumbs you had been feeding her. She dragged it across the concrete floor, claws and teeth tugging at the fabric.

Kento didn’t even think. Before you could react, he was already moving—his body moved faster than his thoughts.

Perhaps it was the instinct to protect his peace. Perhaps it was the nagging thought that you’d be annoyed if your jacket got damaged...or perhaps it was simply because you were beautiful, and he wanted to see you smile at him again, and maybe... even talk to you.

"Hey—wait!" he called out, chasing after the cat with a surprising burst of speed, looking a little... ridiculous. He reached down and snatched your jacket from the cat’s persistent teeth.

With a little tug, Kento managed to get your jacket back—but it was slightly torn from the feline’s chewing.

He cleared his throat, trying to act cool. "Please excuse me about that... um, the jacket, I mean. I—"

"You’re not really a cat person, are you?" you said, laughing lightly.

"It seems so..," He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "But... I would like to make it up to you. Let me buy you a new one?"

You paused for a second, then grinned. "Well, if you insist, I guess I could lend you my time, and let you treat me to a new jacket."

And just like that!

Kento Nanami found himself wanting to spend the rest of his afternoon with you, helping pick out jackets at a nearby store. He didn't expected to enjoy himself, but he did. You were easy to talk to, and the more time he spent with you, the more his heart felt lighter.

By the end of the day, he found himself walking home with his thoughts occupied by you.

He reached into his pocket and found a pink note folded inside. Unfolding it, he smiled when he saw your number written on it, with a little happy face.

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

The universe, it seemed, had a funny way of making him step out his shell and see more of the world—and for once, he wasn’t complaining.

[renku]

Red (Part I)

BINI Mikha Lim x Male Reader

A/N: Sorry it took long for this fic. There are no actions here yet but I plan to put it all in the next one. Apologies again, work is just taking too much of my time.

「 Si besarte fuera pecado, caminaría feliz por el infierno. 」

「 If kissing you were a sin, I would happily walk through hell. 」

∼ ∼ ∼

Wandering around for a considerable amount of minutes made some people look. Few attempted to ask what's wrong, ‘cause painted all over your face was straight up discomfort. Not a single soul—maybe, too intimidated.

“What's taking her so long?” you murmured. It's already past nine and having to explain what took both of you long isn’t what you signed up for. Ticks from the clock makes it even more frustrating. Game night plans? Uninterrupted long sleep ‘til morning? All gone.

Patience continues to drop exponentially; pulling out your phone in a haste to call her. First ring. Second ring. Third ring. Finally, she picked up.

“Hotshot! What’s up?”

Unbelievable. “Uhm... hate to break your enthusiasm, are you intentionally keeping me wait?” trying to sound calm as much as possible. “You still have an event to attend, miss. If I might add.”

“Relax! We’re not going to be late,” she remarked with same attitude.

“Mik- miss, you know me. It’s not that I care, I just hate waiting,” a composed response coming from you. Trying not to sound mad.

“Give me five more minutes! I promise I’ll come down right away.”

“My goodness, Mikhs. Still the same,” a comment you could’ve said but chose not to.

Five minutes. Intrusive thoughts urging you to go up continues to rise. Just a bit more.

“Hotshot!”

Guess it won’t be necessary. After of what it felt like forever. You turned around to see if all the wait was worth it. Long, black dress, fine makeup—not too strong yet not too light to highlight her facial features, and her signature red hair put you in a trance for a few seconds. This is not something new in your part, but yes, her beauty is more captivating than what people can see in their screens.

Mikha did her best to come down quickly. “I'm sorry if I made you wait,” she said with a pouty face. You hate it when Mikha does it. She knew she's at fault but always get away.

“All set?” you asked.

“Yes, yes, can hit the road now. By the way, how do I look?”

“Is that really necessary? You’re Mikha Lim,” you replied in a sarcastic note, as if you're shaking off the question.

Mikha rolled her eyes. “Tss... Fine...”

She walked towards the main door where the car is waiting outside. You followed right away and took the back seat with her. Giving a nod to the driver and he started to drive.

Silence filled the vehicle for a few minutes before the driver turned on the radio, adjusting the volume. Their song—the latest—Cherry on Top came right in. It was a success considering the hype they got from the fans. Who would’ve thought she’d reach this kind of milestone. It made you proud—just not being vocal about it.

“How are your parents?” a question from her out of nowhere, breaking the silence that was filled only by the song.

“They’re doing fine. Always have.”

“Glad to hear that. I kind of miss them.”

You chuckled. “I guess they feel the same. They always ask if we’re still in touch.”

“What did you say?” she asked, looking at you with curiosity and anticipation. “Well,” you paused, “I told them it’s not frequent like it was before. You’re a celebrity now.”

Mikha fell silent for a moment, before giving a faint smile and subtle nod. “Can’t say you’re wrong, it did change some things.”

“Like what?”

“You know... the old times,” she replied in an almost inaudible voice. You're not sure what she meant but it did hit you. No words were coming out of your lips. What should you say? Is it even necessary? A series of questions piled up but nothing was asked. It would be also completely useless since both of you arrived at the destination. The drive did not take much time, it was a surprise.

“Wait,” you said before getting off the car and going to the other side to open the door. You offered your hand and Mikha obliged before giving her thanks. The media knew that the members will come here so it’s no surprise cameras are flashing around.

As soon as she stepped out, you quickly wrapped her shoulders with your coat. Weather during December is quite a killer. No doubt that the dress can barely keep her warm. Mikha gracefully headed towards the entrance, maintaining the image most idols practice—perfection. It irks the hell out of you. She’s pretty much close to what you see in social media and all but can’t still ignore that uneasiness inside you. A thing that people can easily judge.

~~~

“Finally!” you exclaimed. “Finally, what?” Mikha asked out of surprise. “We finally escaped the them.”

“Oh, is that it?” Mikha giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing! I just find it cute how you maintained a straight face despite hating being exposed to public.”

“As you said, exposure. Might as well do my best shot not to look funny when I'm about to be broadcasted all over the country,” you noted in quite a sarcastic note. “I know I'll be all over the headlines the next day.”

She flashed a wide smile to the statement. “We should go to the girls, they're probably expecting us by now,” Mikha expressed as she took your hand. Her hand holding yours stirred up some memories—nothing special—but all of it was pure, honest, and innocent. It was a treasured recollection buried deep within.

There were not as many tables as you expected; finding the girls was a piece of cake. They already know you so there's no need for those scripted and awkward introductions. You suck at any social setting and this is no exception. Good thing Mikha is here to cover up for that. Seeing her somehow gives you comfort, despite your mind already making an escape plan to flee the scene.

Drinks were served during all the hours of chit-chats and laughter. For the sake of being a good sport, of course, you did take shots as much as you hate drinking. Same goes for Mikha. From what you know, she can’t hold much but that was years ago. She probably improved, right?

But no, you approached her to check. “Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

She can't keep a straight face and form coherent words. Evidently, she's drunk. “You should probably take her home. The party’s good as finished anyway. We’ll take it from here,” Aiah said from behind.

“Yeah, seems like it. Thanks,” you replied, giving her a smile.

“And hey, you care for her, right?” Aiah interjected. Question took you by surprise. “She looked forward meeting you today. It wasn’t by chance that you’re the one she brought tonight. I knew she insisted you to join her. I know it. But, anyway, take care.”

Her last words were puzzling. Wasn’t even close to your story, but enough of it. You need to bring her back to the hotel first. The car was just right at the main door and the driver immediately assisted in getting Mikha inside the car. Luckily, no cameras were around.

“Let’s go back to the hotel, please. Thanks.”

“Right away, sir.”

Mikha’s completely passed out on the way back. It’s not clear when was the last time you saw her like this. Hate to admit it, this is the only time when you see her up close. Like real close. The light outside shines upon her face and in that moment, she looked beautiful—more than her visuals, in every way—weirdness, childish attitude (sometimes), kindness, and aspirations. A look beyond that admired face that many can see.

The ride only took twenty minutes. “Do you need anything, sir?” the driver inquired.

“No, I can take it from here. You can take the rest of the night. Thank you very much. We'll contact you if anything will come up. Thanks again for today.”

“Very well, sir. Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Good night as well.”

You hurried to get the other door to help Mikha. She’s lightweight but given her current state it became quite difficult to bring her to her room. Asking her room number beforehand really paid off. The place also has little to no people; fewer eyes, the better.

After successfully entering her room, putting her to bed was the first thing to do, then took off the shoes immediately. Changing her into sleeping clothes would be the final boss. But you know you already lost before it even started. It’s just not on your watch.

“What should I do? Damn it...”

~~~

Mikha woke up. She checked the clock and it’s already past seven in the morning. A familiar face surprised her—Aiah. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning, too. Dumbass.”

“Did you follow me here?”

“You should drink first,” Aiah replied, taking a glass of water and handed it over. “Here.”

Mikha took it all in one sip. “Hey, explain yourself,” she followed.

“Let me finish first cooking our breakfast. Take a shower and change, then I’ll tell everything while eating.”

Curiosity fueled Mikha up. What Aiah told her was done in a matter of minutes. She’s already at the table when Aiah just finished setting up the table. Mikha took her sit and her friend followed suit with a suggestive smirk. “Okay, spill it. All of it.”

Aiah gave out a laugh and Mikha is not having it. “Hey, enough already!”

“Fine, fine... you really don’t have any idea, do you?”

“We’re not having this conversation if I have any.”

“He called. Last night. He said he needed help.”

“Help with what?” Mikha asked, almost demanding for an answer right away. “Helping my light drinker friend,” she answered pushing her forehead.

“He didn’t want to undress you to change your clothes. Gosh, so cute! If I was in your place I wouldn’t mind if he’ll see me naked!”

“HEY!” Mikha exclaimed, still making Aiah a bit surprised despite expecting her reaction. “Chill, sis! I’m just kidding. It’s not my fault if your plan failed.”

“I know,” Mikha said in a gloomy voice. “It’s just that I don’t want to look desperate in front of him and, I have this feeling that he doesn’t see me the way I see him...”

“I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. Or kind of. He’d not accept your invitation as your date yesterday if he’s not interested,” Aiah stated, sipping the fresh cup of coffee.

The thought started spread out inside Mikha’s mind. She doesn’t know how to take it; should she follow Aiah’s word or wait for you to confess yourself? Having a breakfast like this isn’t helping at all.

“It’s up to you. I just gave the option.”

“Yeah... I know.”

“Then, I better get going. My bed is calling me. Ciao!”

Aiah left. Mikha tried to relax for a bit to collect her thoughts and make a reasonable decision. Hopefully one she won’t regret. She walked around the room to calm down some nerves, but then she noticed the black dress on the couch.

“Oh, right. I need to return this.”

Mikha stopped by at the company to return the dress to their wardrobe. As she went inside the room, she saw you, having a small chat—a good one, it seems—with Stacey. Mikha was almost unnoticeable by how she entered, but what gave her away was where Stacey was standing.

“Mikhs!”

“Uhm, he- hey... Sorry to interrupt...”

“No, we’re just done talking, are you staying here until afternoon?” Stacey asked. “I’m afraid I’m not,” Mikha replied. “Oh, I see. Just need something?”

“Need to return the dress I wore yesterday, that's all.”

The two of you just exchanged glances; words don't need to heard and letting the eyes do the talking. You can see in her eyes; something bothering her and that need to let it out, just holding it due to Stacey’s presence. Luckily, she excused herself out of the room and just told Mikha to see her before leaving the building. A moment of silence filled the room, quite chilly too.

“What is it? Let it out.” Mikha didn’t expect that you know what’s going on in her mind. “I know you have something to say, spill it out.”

Your tone made her even nervous, pressured, even. Heart beats faster, can’t look straight to your eyes. Mikha is lost for words. She hates it.

You're still waiting for a response, never leaving her eyes. “So?”

“Can we- can we talk about it outside? Just not here. I'm- I'm not comfortable.”

To tell the truth, you’re quite intrigued. She’s not being herself. The girl you knew all along doesn’t hesitate to speak to anyone in front of her. But, if it’s something serious, you’re more than welcome to give her a favor.

“Where do you want to talk?” you asked.

“Your place would be most suitable,” Mikha responded quickly. You’re puzzled by her choice but of all the places she could pick, why yours? It doesn't matter anyway. Curiosity is killing you now.

“Okay, my place then. Shall we go now right away, or do you still have some matters to attend here?”

“Let me just say goodbye to Stacey. Then, we can go.”

“Sure thing. Take your time.”

“All right. Thanks.”

She went on her way to go to her friend. You picked your things up before going down the lobby to wait for her. Walking down the hallway, questions continue to fill your mind while trying not to get caught up about it. But, you can’t stop asking yourself one question: “Is it because, she’s hiding something but it’s too serious she’s cautious with it?”

You can only wait for her before finding out the answer yourself.

[maxispixels]

HANDPICKED

PART TWELVE.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

3.9k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around (more) 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy ? (very)

CW/TW: Panic attack description, kinda murder talk, lots of political talk, mention of state violence i guess?,, (Tell me if I should add something?)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight. Part nine. Part ten. Part eleven. Part twelve.

The air felt thick, and heavy, clogging your throat, your lungs refusing to work right.

Your eyes fell on Hobie, at the other side of the room, back turned to you. Blissfully unaware. The world blurred around the edge. 

You believed it. If you’d been able to convince yourself that it was just a vile lie, you wouldn't have felt so ill. You didn't know who this man was, what his problem was with you or Hobie, but his last words had the ring of truth.

You pushed yourself to your feet at once, and a violent rush of blood drained from your head, your eyes going black as you lost your balance. Your hands shot out blindly, gripping the back of the couch, anything to keep you upright. The squat swayed around you, voices distant, muffled like they were coming through water. It took a few seconds before you were able to slide along the wall towards an exit.

Ugly and unexpected, a feeling of inadequacy swept through you. You felt invisible, an overwhelming panic washed over you like waves, and no one had seen you. 

You weren't the type to like being the centre of attention, but this was different. You were losing your footing. You were drowning and there was no hand on your shoulder to keep your head above water.

You let the current drag you to the first door, shuffling with the handle until you almost crashed inside. The bright blue light made your eyes hurt, and your nostrils twitched at the harsh, pungent smell of an unclean bathroom. 

The tiles were shattered, the grout black with filth, and the sink stained with dark matter. You couldn't bring yourself to care as you turned the rusted faucet, letting the water run cold before splashing it over your face. It dripped down your skin, soaking the collar of your shirt, and still, you couldn't feel it.  

You cupped your hands, took a quick sip, only to gag. It tasted wrong. Metallic. You spit it out, coughing, gripping the sides of the sink as a wave of nausea slammed into you. The mirror swam in front of you, you really looked terrible. Your reflection seemed to multiply, and when you moved, it didn’t move on beat with you, slightly delayed, like a record skipping.

The walls closed in. The bathroom wasn’t enough. It wasn’t open enough. You needed out, you needed air. You shoved your way back through the door, barely looking where you were going. The squat felt hotter than before, suffocating, your skin burning. You reached the front, pushed the door open, and stumbled out onto the street. The cold whipped your wet face, but you could barely feel it. 

Were you ever going to be able to go anywhere with Hobie without breaking down? Maybe that was a bad sign, your body trying to drag you away from him, from the danger you might have been unconsciously feeling. Were you really just blinded by his smooth voice and golden brown eyes? 

You were just starting to be okay with it. Hobie swiping food, nicking random stuff from corporations that deserved to lose more than they already stole from everyone else. That kind of theft didn’t hurt anyone.

But this? This was blood. Someone’s life. And the thought clamped around your ribs like a vice.

What if it was true? What then? Hobie seemed to be more than okay with it. You resented him for it. You were still losing sleep over that one time you didn’t say hello to your bus driver, and there he was, in your bed, in your arms— well, he did not sleep well, you’ll give him that.

Was it the reason? The reason why his eyes would get lost? The way he seemed to tense at sirens?

You didn’t notice anyone coming until a tall shadow loomed over you. Your eyes trailed up to Hobie’s worried face, and you wondered since when he was that tall, until you realised you were sitting down. His presence forced you to ground yourself, although his words still didn’t reach you.

You looked down, realizing you were sitting in a puddle. You let something between a breath and scoff, staring down at the soaked fabric of your trousers, watching the water seep in deeper. That was your luck. 

When you looked back up, he had crouched in front of you. You saw his lips move but you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. When did the ringing start?

He was a murderer. 

His fingers ghosted toward your cheek, and you flinched. Hobie pulled his hand back like he had been burned.

The sight made your heart ache. You wanted to tell him to go away. To tell him to hold you. To tell him to never talk to you again. To tell him to never leave you alone again. 

You didn’t say anything. 

His words finally cut through to you. And oh god, your name sounded so sweet in his voice, especially dripping with worry like that. It was intoxicating, how it made you feel special, precious. That couldn’t be faked. 

“Oi, look at me.” Sweet like honey, each word stuck to your clammy skin. You tried to look in his eyes, his two, no, four, eight… Yeah, you couldn’t really focus your eyes. But you were conscious. Now that you listened, he knew you could hear him.

“It’s going to be alright, yeah? You take a deep breath with me okay?” 

You let him guide you through it, each breath slower than the last, until everything stopped being blurry. 

Your stomach still churned at the thought of everything, but it could wait just another moment. Especially as you came back to senses you didn’t realise you lost and was hit with an uncomfortable wave of cold, wetness seeping in through your clothes. 

Hobie offered his hand, not daring to reach for you first. You looked away, plagued with the man’s words. You found it in yourself to push your body up, with the help of the wall behind you. Without another word, and in spite of both your instincts to speak, you made your way home.

The silence was heavy and uncomfortable, filled with bootsteps the distant clatter of conversations that weren’t yours. 

“You good now?” He asked carefully. 

You nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. You felt the twist of nausea in your guts, but you kept it down, focusing on the feeling of your steps.

“I.. I know crowds can be a lot.” He murmured. “Shoulda noticed sooner.” He thought back to the concert, the way you grew overwhelmed to tears. Was that the same thing? “You’ve… done this before?” His words were tentative, like he didn’t want to assume.

It took some time to hit. Of course he’d think this was about the protest, or the people. In some way he reassured you. He wasn’t some kind of master manipulator that knew everything and could read your mind.

It gave him a certain innocence that was stolen from the way you looked at him. This felt better, more familiar already.

Faced with your lingering silence, he continued. “T’s okay you know. You don’t need to put yourself out there. Not if…” his words got lost in the wind.

You let him believe whatever until you reached your flat. He let you in your silence, although careful that you weren’t slipping back in whatever mental space got you there in the first place.

You struggled with your keys like a drunk, your hands shaking. 

“Let me?” He offered quietly, still not daring to reach first after what happened. You gave in, handing him the keys.

Once he opened, you shuffled inside, the warm scent of flowers and leather making you feel just slightly better. It was warm and comfortable. It was home. Your shoes got kicked and you dragged yourself to your bathroom, familiar and clean. 

You locked the door and stared at your reflection. You felt like you took ten years in one night. You quickly shed your wet clothes, the sensations barely bearable at this point.

Warm water felt like heaven’s gift, but it wasn’t enough to clean the filth underneath your nails, the man’s words lingering in every fold of your brain. You wished you could pull it out of your skull and wash it as well, use some scented products, get it squeaky clean, smooth and shiny. No thoughts at all.

You took your sweet time thinking everything over. Who cared it was probably 3A.M? Well, maybe Hobie, his worried words coming from time to time to make sure you hadn’t drowned in your bath.

You were more worried about drowning in your thoughts, especially when seeing Hobie's jewelries at your sink made you recoil. You weren’t sure how to deal with this.

You lingered in front of the door, scared of having to face him after everything. You closed your eyes and swallowed down a shiver before you finally stepped out of the bathroom.

You saw him sitting on the bed, waiting, almost sheepish, one of his legs tucked under his chin. You never saw him look so meek, it tugged at your heartstrings. You felt bad for even doubting him, but the seed had already taken root.

“Hey there.” He mumbled, watching you come out, relief obvious on his face.

“Hey…”

“You’re alright?” he asked softly, “can talk now?”

You paused. No, not really, you couldn’t when it was still eating at your mind like a parasite.

“Hobie…” you started, unsure, barely a breath. “Have you ever…”

He waited.

“Hurt someone?”

Your voice wavered, words hanging in the air as everything stilled. The euphemism was a little ridiculous, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be more clear. It’s as if saying anything more crude would burn your tongue.

Hobie didn’t answer right away, he was caught off guard. Your question didn’t make sense—hurt someone? You’ve seen him bruised, joking about getting in a fight, it never bothered you before, or maybe it did, but not like this.

Was that what got you all sullen tonight?

He didn’t deflect, didn’t joke, didn’t smirk. He just looked at you, at your shape barely held together against the doorframe. Your skin was still glistening from your shower, it looked raw, as if you scrubbed too hard, and your face looked so sulken and tired.

His eyes never wavered, but you saw something flicker. It was like he was testing the weight of your words, trying to be sure what you were really asking.

“I don’t like to hurt people.”

It wasn’t a no. You felt your knees go jelly. 

“But sometimes,” he continued, “you just gotta make sure people don’t get the chance to do worse.”

You clenched your teeth. Part of you hoped he would laugh and make fun of you for getting weird ideas in your head. That he’d be offended by the implications. That he’d tell you how wrong this was.

“Did you?” you murmured, barely above a whisper, “did you…” the words wouldn’t come out, still trapped in your throat.

He knew what you meant. Part of him wanted to ask you how you found out, maybe beat the idiot who ran their mouth to you of all people, but he knew it wasn’t the right time for threats of violence.

He was reminded of the way you flinched earlier, how he tried to convince himself that you just couldn’t handle people at that moment. Were you scared of him? His stomach churned at the thought, the feeling familiar, like this was all inevitable.

“Yeah.”

You thought the walls were closing in again. He didn’t look proud, nor did he look ashamed.

He gave you no justification, no excuses, and the words of the man in the cowboy hat rang in your ear. Some people just deserve to go. You wanted to go back under the shower head, let the water drown out your thoughts.

“Why?” You tried, voice steadier.

He finally looked away.

“Cause I had to.”

That was all? Your ribs felt tight, like they constricted around your lungs to suffocate you. 

You tried to justify it in your head, but it only led to growing self disgust. What you hated most was how the way you saw him didn't change. 

He was just sitting there, on your bed, the moonlight pouring over his shoulder. You wanted to climb next to him and curl up at his side, but you weren't sure you could look at yourself in the mirror after that. 

He let the silence linger, he let you sit with it, never pushing.

After a beat, he spoke up. “What now?...” His voice was quiet yet steady. “Should I leave?”

The thought of sending him out there in the middle of the night felt wrong. Did he still have a place to go? He had been there for a while.

But worse, the risk of him not coming back hurt more than anything else.

“I won’t be mad…” he murmured like he would to a wounded animal, like he thought you were scared to tell him to leave but wanted to.

Your words all got tangled in your throat and he stood up, slowly, grabbing his things, trying to appear as non threatening as possible. Sure it hurt to think that you could ever be scared of him, but he didn’t want to make it worse. 

You watched him grab his jacket next, every one of his movements slow and careful. He didn’t look you in the eyes, not even in your general direction, not in a way that showed how much he wanted you to stop him. Like he had accepted it already. You pictured the room without him. Without his guitar.

His name fell out of your lips like it was the only thing that could make it out. His eyes met yours.

“Don’t go.”

That surprised him. 

“Stay. Please.” 

Your words stopped him cold, his jacket slipping from his hands like he forgot he was holding it. He sat back down, slower this time, shoulders drawn in like the weight of the night had finally caught up to him. He almost looked small. Not something to be pitied, but something to cradle and love. 

With agonizing slowness, things settled. 

He put his spiked bracelets on the nightstand, his jacket on the designated clothes chair and you eyed the way his shoulders rounded without pads or artificials angles.

And without a word, your tired bodies found their way under the heavy blankets.

The bed felt too small. Or maybe too big? Maybe it was the way you laid with your shoulder pushed against the cold wall, the way Hobie laid on the very edge, his arm dangling off the mattress like he was trying to take up less space.

Maybe it was the way your shoulders hovered inches apart, your breathing uneven, your heart hammering behind your ribs in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion. 

You hoped this tension wasn't going to be your new normal. Your eyes were wide open, despite the fatigue. You weren't going to sleep easily. Your body was heavy and aching, but your thoughts were still racing. 

You stopped breathing for a moment to concentrate on his. Too fast to be asleep, but you hesitated anyway. You needed to ask more. You inhaled deeply.

“Are you awake?” Your voice came out a tentative whisper, reminiscent of children trying to bypass their bedtimes with quiet late night talks.

“Yeah.” He answered after a beat too long. 

You didn’t look at each other, eyes glued to the popcorn ceiling like it was a summer day’s sky. You looked for shapes in the relief of the ceiling, like you would in clouds. You were hoping to find a message, perhaps the right words to say, or just something to reassure you.

“Can you talk to me?” you tried.

“About what?” his voice gentle and quiet. 

“I dunno. Everything.” you tried to be vague, but you only had one thing in mind. “The cop.”

“You wanna know what happened?”

You nodded. He couldn’t see you, but he felt it. He hummed, pensive. Your head turned to him just enough to see his brows furrowed from the corner of your eyes. He didn’t argue or try to run from an explanation.

“Was defending myself.” He confessed, but it didn’t sound like an excuse or a justification. Just a fact.

Your breath stilled in your throat. “Defending?”

He nodded. You had to be honest with yourself, relief started to course through your veins. You felt him shift. Not to look at you, just to prop his arms behind his head, just enough to ease the flow of words from his chest.

“Fighting a system that thrives on violence,” he murmured, voice quiet, measured, too tired to be anything but honest, “comes with its own share of violence.”

You swallowed.

“Pacifism isn’t great,” he paused, “not when they got a gun to your head.”

The words felt distant, like he was explaining to himself, not to you. Like it was just something he carried, something he had always carried. 

"You ever notice how the only people told to ‘stay peaceful’ are the ones already gettin’ killed?”

His voice was still quiet, but the sharpness in it could cut through iron.

"That’s the thing, innit? They don’t need to play fair. Don’t need to follow no rules. But the second we start fightin’ back—" he let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head, “they call us the threat. Call us the criminals."

His fingers tapped against his side, restless, his mind already miles ahead, already thinking in movements, in battles, in history repeating itself.

"Not being violent never stopped violence. Never has. Never will. The world doesn't work like that. If it did, the state wouldn’t need cops, wouldn’t need prisons, wouldn’t need no weapons to keep us in our place. They got ‘em. They use ‘em. And then they tell us we gotta sit there, take the hits, and ‘wait for change.’ T’s just like the kids teachers told to ‘ignore their bullies’. Never stopped bullying.”

His jaw flexed, eyes dark, sharp.

"That's a luxury. Thinkin’ you can just… wait for things to get better. Not everyone gets to wait."

You listened to him, hanging to his every word. This felt much bigger. Bigger than him defending himself from a cop. Bigger than what you could conceive in your tired brain. Those words would stick with you for a long time, and you'll need to sit with them and process them. But right now, your stomach twisted, your fingers curled into the blanket, knuckles white. 

And then, before you could stop yourself, before you could even think, “Some people just need to go.” 

Hobie turned his head, not enough to see you properly, just enough that you could feel his stare. “That what you think?” His voice was suddenly shaper. Not angry. Concerned.

Your breath came short, shallow, unsteady, before you cracked. It spilled out, shaky and ugly. The squat, the man, the filth, the words, the way he had dug into you, twisted you up. The way he had looked at you, smirk curling slow and lazy as he dragged you through the dirt, made you feel less than. The way he had forced you to imagine Hobie like that, like a killer. Like someone who could take a life and feel nothing.

Like someone who could take a life and then come home to you, slip under your blankets, press a kiss to your temple like there was no blood under his nails.

Hobie listened, and the longer you spoke, the more his stillness became terrifying. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t react, didn’t even breathe too loud.

Finally, he sighed, not with frustration, just something heavy.

“Nah. That’s not how it works.”

His voice was quieter now, thoughtful, measured. He exhaled again, rubbing his knuckles over his jaw, thinking. Choosing his words.

“It ain't about who deserves what. It never was.”

He turned onto his side now, fully facing you, and for the first time since the conversation started, his eyes held you there. Grounded you.

“Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it. Everybody deserves to live. Everybody. That’s the fuckin’ point.”

You listened carefully, trying to understand, to comprehend.

“The problem ain't that some people need to go. The problem’s that some people decided a long time ago that they get to choose. That they get to pick who lives, who dies, who gets a roof over their head, who starves, who gets to grow old, who don’t make it past seventeen. That’s what we’re s’posed to be fightin’.”

His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. The weight of it pressed down on you all the same.

“Ain’t about countin’ up sins and handin’ out punishment.” His voice dipped slightly lower. “It’s about stoppin’ the ones who think they can do it without consequence. The ones who’ve been doin’ it since before we were born.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, like you needed to chew his words, swallow them, let them replace whatever rotten seed the other man had planted in your stomach.

“So nah. I don’t decide who deserves to go.” He let that settle, watching you, making sure it landed. “But I’ll do what I gotta do to make sure the people I love get to stay.”

You nodded. Not because you understood, hell, you could barely process everything that happened today, you were exhausted. You nodded to promise you’d understand later, when your brain will be rested and his words would come back to you, and you’ll sit with them and maybe find it in you to either agree or find arguments compelling enough not to.

“I should’ve never left you alone.” He started again, his voice so much softer. “Should’ve looked after you better. Should’ve been the one to tell you.”

And something inside you broke completely. Because it should’ve. It should’ve been him. Not a stranger with a cigarette and a cruel mouth, it should’ve been Hobie. It should’ve been like this.

Your hands trembled and you rolled on your side to face fully. His face was partially hidden in shadow, but his eyes were open, tired, pained. He looked wrecked and you hated it. Hated that he felt guilty, hated that you felt guilty for making him feel guilty.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. 

Then, without thinking or really meaning to, your hands moved, tentative, hesitant. It was like putting your fingers on the glass protecting a work of art in a museum and expecting an alarm to go off on contact. 

It was just the smallest brush, and Hobie finished the movement. His fingers caught yours, warm, before he shifted, his arm curling around you, pulling you in, gentle, slow, careful, like he knew you needed it but wouldn’t ask. 

You let yourself sink into it. The weight of his arm over your back, the press of his chest, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against your skin… It was grounding. It was the safety net you tried so hard to fall back into. You could breathe again too. 

You stopped shaking.

i have books to recommend if anyone wanna

that feels way too heavy for silly fanfiction about flowershops

Tags: @hoe-bie @kittenjujusblog

[wosov]

A chaotic call up

A call up wouldn't be a call up for our kid without some chaos!

Your call up came on a random Thursday evening. You had had a productive and entertaining day at training which ended with you nutmegging Beth Mead and promptly running away whilst she yelled a phrase you knew you were not allowed to repeat at home around Leah. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention…

I live with Leah Williamson. It wasn’t planned at all though. You had received word from your agent that Arsenal wanted you for their first team. It was a no brainer for you as you currently played for a team that hadn’t ever qualified for the WSL yet. The only problem being your age. Well that and your father. He was your biggest supporter, don’t get it wrong but he was also in the Royal Air Force and in preparing for the move down to London for your playing career, he received a letter that he was to be posted somewhere in New Zealand. So, you ended up under the care of Leah Williamson which turned out to be a lot different than what you were anticipating. You had visions of being able to tag along to cool events as a plus one and perhaps stealing some very cool clothes from her wardrobe. Ok maybe you were reaching a little with your expectations, but what you hadn’t expected was for her to be stricter than your father. Granted it wasn’t that hard for anyone to be stricter than your father as in his eyes, as long as you didn’t get in trouble with the law (like your older brother, but we don’t talk about that) he didn’t mind giving you freedom to live your life. After all, all you really did was go to and from training and maybe cause some chaos along the way. 

Ok, that’s enough of a back story. Your call up, which by the way did come at a very inconvenient time as you were attempting to master a very complicated FIFA skill move in your bedroom surrounded by mountains of clothes yet to be folded and put away and unopened textbooks that were living vicariously stacked on top of your desk. You groaned at first, from your cocoon in your bed. A bed that you hadn’t moved from since you and Leah had gotten in from training. At first you were content to let it ring out (never being a fan of talking on the phone) but a shout from downstairs snapped you out of your bed rot as it were. 

“Kid, I swear answer your damn phone now!” Leah yelled from the kitchen with a smirk on her face, knowing just what was coming your way after a conversation with Sarina regarding her own call up and captain duties on how to deal with the newer players - you. 

You groaned in annoyance, not knowing why Le was so adamant on you answering your phone. It’s not like anyone important rang anyway, the only other important person in your life who you don’t live near was your father. And you only received letters from him anyway, something about national security you guessed. But you rolled over to grab the shrieking electronic object buried in your duvet cover and answered it with a funny one line you had seen on tiktok. 

“Kiddos mortuary and taco stand, where yesterday's grief is today's beef. What can I get started for you?” You proudly stated whilst trying not to laugh. Although, what you weren’t expecting to happen was for Sarina Wiegman to answer the phone.

“Hello? Is this Y/F/N, this is Sarina Wiegman calling on behalf of the England women’s senior national team. Is now an ok time to talk?”

That quickly took the proud smile off your face as you swallowed hard and attempted to be as professional as possible - which still isn’t that professional really. 

“Miss Wiegman, I mean Sarina, I mean Ma’am, wait Boss um…” you stammered out and quickly took the phone away from your ear to take a deep breath whilst formulating a plan to regain some dignity. “Sarina, so lovely to hear from you! I think we may have had some interference on the line but I think that’s all fixed now?” You hoped it was a good enough lie to cover you, and to either your luck or her professionalism (probably the latter) she spoke no more of it. 

Hello Y/F/N, as I said before, I am ringing on behalf of the England women’s national senior team and would like for you to join us at our training camp in preparation for the Euro’s. 

At this point, you could’ve sworn your stomach fell out of your body but by the way you were still breathing, that seemed unlikely. 

“Hello? Hello, are you still there, Y/F/N.” 

You didn’t ignore her, you really didn’t but you couldn’t find your voice to respond to her which is why Leah appeared in your bedroom. If you weren’t so consumed with trying to regain some kind of dignity and composure, you probably would have questioned how she knew to come into your room and how she got there so quickly from seemingly being in the kitchen. But you were too relieved to care. 

“Hey Sarina, yeah it’s me. No no, the kid is just a little” she took one glance at you in a stunned state before carrying on with her sentence “preoccupied right now. Yep I will be able to explain everything about camp beforehand, that’s not a problem. Alright that’s all sorted, we will see you then! Bye Sarina, lovely to talk to you again.” Leah spoke with such a fluid composure in contrast to you who had somehow, in your panicked state, managed to dodge your ‘floordrobe’ (as you put it) and ended up in the foetal position under your desk. Leah quickly hung up your phone and moved over to you in a controlled manner, careful not to spook you and crouched down slowly. 

“Hey kid, you all good under there?” Leah spoke as she moved her arms out to try and ground you. 

“Did uh, what I mean I uh umm” you stuttered out not realising you were missing vital parts of your sentences. 

Leah responded with a chuckle “What was that kiddo, you're missing out a few words there”

“Sarina she she she” you managed to stutter out “England me I” you were currently deep breathing trying to get your heart back to a sane rhythm. “Me play, England play football, Euros me play” you spluttered out whilst Leah just looked amused at your current state. 

“Really kid, I cannot believe that” she spoke with some amused sarcasm lacing her voice whilst you just looked like you were having some sort of existential crisis. 

Several minutes later, your face had regained some colour and your heart had reverted back to your normal rhythm. And you were still in disbelief, questioning Leah at every opportunity still believing you were a part of some well planned out joke. 

“So England wants me? Like me me??” you questioned Leah as you sat on the sofa. 

“Kiddo for the hundredth time, yes! Sarina called you up didn’t she?” she spoke whilst cleaning up the kitchen in preparation for some of your future teammates to join for a takeaway/game night. 

“I just, why me Le” you sighed out. “I’m not even that good to be on the under 18s let alone the actual fucking senior team!” you spoke out with frustration seeping out. 

“Woah woah kiddo, some big words coming from you hm. I will forgo the swearing consequence this time as I believe we have bigger things to talk about right now yeah?” she spoke firmly as she moved across to the sofa to sit opposite you on the coffee table, taking your hands into hers. “First of all, you deserve the call up ok, you are such a hard worker and such an amazing talent. You put in the graft and you are getting the recognition. Sarina doesn’t just call up anyone and she called you up which obviously means you do deserve it and I will not hear any different! I can guarantee that if you asked any of the Arsenal girls or any of your future teammates for England, they will tell you the same thing.” Leah spoke with such caring conviction as she wiped a rogue tear from your cheek. 

“Now c'mon, we have tidying to complete before chaos arrives” she said with a smile which massively contrasted your groan in response to her statement, wondering how she could sound so upbeat at the prospect of tidying.

based on a request I got for our chaotic kids call up

please please send in requests or anything you wanna see!! it gives me so much encouragement to write

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton finds a pig head and guts in his bed when he comes home from work, and all of his things are ripped off or broken. If he investigates it, he will find out his neighbor hates him for being a monster and tries to intimidate him this way. How does he react?

Undertale Sans - Sans stays calm, even though he's pretty horrified right now. It's not the first time he has to face anti-monster protestors, his brother being the ambassador, but that's definitely the first time it has happened with that much violence. He takes a few pictures, doesn't touch anything, and sends everything to Undyne to ask for advice. She's more used to deal with these things than he is. Sans follows whatever she says, which means he goes to live at Toriel's place for a few days why Undyne investigates and clean the place for him. Sans decides to stay a little longer after his insomnia starts again. That might have affected him more than he shows. He needs to have people he trusts around for now. He's a bit nervous to live alone again, but he'll move back eventually. He just needs to process the trauma.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus feels violated. His room is his safe place, and that's clearly not anymore. He hates the idea of someone breaking into his home and touching his things. He's not that impressed about the pig head. He saw worse since he's an ambassador, but that never followed him home. He asks Undyne for help and goes back to live with his brother for a while. Papyrus is scared someone might follow him and hurt his love ones, and so he's a little agitated. He's not scared to confront his neighbor though once Undyne catches them. He doesn't want to blame them, he just wants them to understand they hurt someone that don't even know them and never did anything to them. Once the story is closed for good, Papyrus starts looking for a new house. He doesn't feel comfortable living in that place again.

Underswap Sans - That's cute. Blue is not impressed at all. That's pretty usual for police officers to get threats. That one is more original than the others, he can give them that. He doesn't touch anything and calls his colleagues working in the science department. While they're investigating, Blue simply follows the blood stains on the floor leading straight to his neighbor's home. So, uh, funny story, the delivery man knocked on his door to deliver a pig corpse, but Blue sent him back to his neighbor because he had the wrong address. And now there's a pig head on his bed. Surely that's just a coincidence, right? Blue arrests them the next day. Case closed.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey gives one look at the room and immediately closes the door, hyperventilating. His hands are shaking and he's not sure what to do about this. He opens it again, the smell makes him gag and he immediately runs outside for fresh air. He's going to be sick. Completely freaking out, he calls his brother for help. Blue takes everything under his supervision and sends Honey to Asgore, so he can calm down and recover from the intense shock. He's disgusted to learn his neighbor did this. Honey never did anything to them, and he doesn't understand why they did it. He's glad his service dogs were with him, he can't even imagine what would have happened it it wasn't the case. Honey doesn't want to go back to this house, he's too scared and nervous every time he's all alone in there. He goes back to live with his brother for a few months and after a few sessions with his therapists, decides to move out to start again and stop thinking all the time about what happened.

Underfell Sans - Red is annoyed more than shocked. Blood is hard to wash away, that's not cool. But he doesn't care about the pighead. What he cares about is his smashed motorcycle in front of his garage. He's furious. It doesn't take a genius to guess who did that though, so he's going to show his neighbour he's not defenseless. They wake up to their car absolutely destroyed and burning in the morning. Now what? You're going to call the cops? So he can show them the pig head in his room? Go on, his brother is the best lawyer in town you dumbass.

Underfell Papyrus - Is this a joke? Who is stupid enough to send him a death threat when he can destroy the hell out of anyone in court? Do you have a death wish or something? Well, that's hilarious. He goes to knock on his neighbor's door to thank them for their gift and advise them to get a very good lawyer, because they're so going to cry blood tears when they'll realize who they just challenged. Edge is going to charge them so much that they are indeed going to cry a lot in court. Don't attack the best attorney in town???

Horrortale Sans - He's badly triggered by all the blood and immediately retreats to the living room, trying to control his shaking hands and his own head to calm down. He knows the police won't do anything to help, so he's the one who needs to find out what happened. He's going to do everything on his own, as he doesn't want to worry his brother. One day, he comes home covered in blood and with his axe out. When his brother asked what happened, Oak refused to answer. He just tells his brother that there's no problem anymore now. It's better that way.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow is horrified, even more so since it's not any pig. It's one of his pigs. The poor animal didn't deserve such a horrible death, and all the blood is sending him into continuous panic attacks. He's not sure what to do or who to talk to. He's scared, he's agitated, and he randomly runs to Toriel without even realizing it. Between his confused sobs, Toriel managed to get most of the story. She will clean the mess, and talk to animal welfare groups to support their arguments. Willow could never be thankful enough as Toriel will pretty much save the day and help to find who did it. Willow is sad and confused about why their neighbor hates them so much he would do such a horrible thing, but that's life. At least, they will get punished for what they did.

Swapfell Sans - Urgh. He just came home from work. He doesn't want to deal with work at home! Nox ignores the mess and goes to sleep on the couch. That's a problem for future Nox. Future Nox will have coffee to help him have a clear mind to deal with this shit. For now, he's just tired. Nox doesn't take it that seriously. He's like the most threatened guy in the entire kingdom. One more or one less...

Swapfell Papyrus - Is that some sort of elaborate trap from his brother to make him clean his room? Like hell he's cleaning! He waits for Nox to fall asleep, picks up the pig head, and silently sets it in his brother's bed, right in front of his head, so he kisses it when he wakes up. Take that, sucker. He takes a picture of his brother cuddling the pig head and goes home. He is very surprised to learn the next day that his brother actually didn't do that when his brother wakes him up screaming there had been an intrusion during the night. Oh. Uh... Yeah, he has no idea where that pig head come from, but he has its guts! That proves he's innocent... Right?

Fellswap Gold Sans - He goes to knock on the neighbor, the pig head in his hands. He thanks them warmly for their gift (he has cameras by the way) but that he can't accept it because it's unworthy of his social rank. Yours though... Wine then proceeds to stuff his neighbor's head inside the pig's head. You played, you lost. Now cry.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee is triggered and runs to his brother, gagging and trying to explain him the situation. Wine isn't a big fan of people threatening his brother. After checking the cameras, he goes to see his neighbor with the pig guts, and he forces them to eat them all on all four, begging for his mercy. Wine has no mercy though. He hopes you're going to poison yourself and die, that would be easier for everyone.

[seyoonlgc]

A new project? The company was looking for eligible male trainees? Hell yeah, of course, he would be auditioning!

Seyoon straightened his shirt, smoothed down his jeans, ran a comb down his messy blonde hair, and waltzed into his interview session. He chose a morning slot because the sun gave him POWER and he intended to outshine his competition to the best of his ability.

"Good morning," he greeted, bowing his head with a smile. "I am Kim Seyoon, here for my interview!"

Why are you interested in being in NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS? [135]

Let's start with a refreshing bit of honesty then, shall we?

I want to be famous, wanna be a star, and be in magazines. Also want to see the world, drive nice cars, and have groupies-

No, that would be too much honesty.

"This project is a debut opportunity and will give me a chance to fulfill my dream of becoming an idol. As a hopeful trainee, I would be kicking myself if I didn't try to take advantage of every opportunity I am presented!" If this project was called OLDMEN OLDFARTNIGHTMARES, Seyoon would still be auditioning. As a man who worshipped at the altar of beauty, Seyoon was very well aware of just how fleeting youth was. He only had a few years to make his debut happen, otherwise, all of these past years spent on training would have been a waste of time.

"While we don't know much about the project, I do think the concept would fit me, judging by the name alone." Seyoon laughed. "To me, New Kids sounds like the company is looking for younger trainees. People who give off a bright, energetic vibe maybe. I think I am a good fit for that!" If there was one thing Seyoon did not lack, it would be stamina. He was constantly bouncing off the walls, and if they observed him in the practice room, they'd definitely see that aspect of his personality.

"Also...I guess I just want a chance to be seen at my best," Seyoon admitted brightly. "I want my parents, grandparents, and younger brothers in Canada to hear the new songs I learned. And my high school friends, scouts buddies, and fried chicken shop regulars too." My mother also. I want to be so goddamn famous that she could not avoid the sight of my face because it would be everywhere. I want her to know despite the fact she won't acknowledge me, I exist.

Considering the current confirmed members, what can you add on and off the stage? [160]

"Off-stage...Uhhh...I mean, I know all of the people in the group and get along with them? BK and I are friends." Fellow partygoers, yeehaw. "I've worked with Noeul on different things before. Misaki and I are buddies, we were also dormmates before. I love Wenjun so much- Sorry, am I answering this question wrong?" Seyoon tapped on his temple, prompting his noggin for more useful tidbits. "Right. I got in a workshop about commercial acting and was pretty good at that so maybe when we are not performing as a group, I could pick up commercials or minor acting roles to boost our popularity?"

"On stage-wise, I can bring my energy, enthusiasm, and good singing! From what I can remember in the practice rooms, BK and Noeul are good rappers. Misaki is a strong dancer, and Yichen is an excellent performer. Wenjun sings beautifully but no group could stand with just one great singer, right? There was always room for another! Oh, also, I am from Canada and fully fluent in English. Do we need an English speaker?"

which skill do you want to be known for & why? [163]

"I would like to be known for my singing because that's where my talent lies, I believe." Seyoon rubbed the back of his head. "I've been singing since I was a child. No lessons, of course, we couldn't afford those since my parents ended up having more kids than they initially planned, and my grandfather on my dad's side was not in good health. I was always in some sort of choir though. Both in schools and at the church. My stepmom always told me I had a far-reaching voice." He made quotations with his fingers. "I think what she meant was she could always hear me from all the way at the back of a room. But if I debut, then those words could take on a different meaning - my voice would be far-reaching because it will be heard by more people and maybe touch some hearts." He laughed. "Seriously, the moment I make it into a permanent group, I am going to call her and tell her that she's predicted it...That she had special powers and knew all along."

what kind of concepts are you good & bad at? [86]

"When it comes to concepts, I think I can do cute, energetic...dark too. Oh, I don't think I will excel at elegant. I am not going to lie - I am not really the princely type." Instead, he was a questionable man who hid his unwashed shorts under his bed and constantly had mud on his shoes. "I think that has to do with growing up on farmland. Sometimes expensive restaurants and formal events can make me feel out of place. I can learn, though! Just put me through a few classes and show me an example of how I should behave. I am a fast learner, I promise."

what kind of group would you ideally want to be part of and why? [87]

"Group-wise, I think being known for great live vocals would be nice because I love those performances the most." He thought about it harder. "To be honest, I just really want to be in a group that is...successful." Would he risk sounding too ambitious with that? "I enjoy groups that have great live vocals. The ones with strong stage presence are amazing too! Ultimately it won't matter, though, if the group doesn't last. Ideally, I would want to debut in a group that has longevity. One that is versatile, can adapt to the trends, and stay relevant for as long as possible."

Seyoon just wanted money. Sometimes he wondered if it was wrong of him to be focused on the financial aspect when a good number of the other kids were entirely invested in their dreams. He supposed everything would be different if he was like some of the other trainees in this company. CEO connections, famous parents. Waving around their black cards while waiting for their chauffeurs in their well-tailored coats. They had more opportunities. If this whole idol situation failed, they could start businesses, go back to school, or even just lie around because their parents could afford to feed them for the rest of their lives. Ugh, sometimes he felt so envious of those people that it hurt.

And that was the end of the interview.

"Thanks for the chat," Seyoon said, bowing first to show his respect, then straightening his back to do a big over-the-head heart. "I am sure there will be a lot more trainees interviewing after but don't forget me, okay?" He grinned. "I really want this!"

[cherrymangos]

whaaat. im making art with a background

[inkats]

having a crush is like poison status effect whenever u have to think.

[the-abyssal-system]

Singlets stop talking about systems as if you’re an expert because you follow some on tumblr challenge (also warning the tags here are a huge rant so feel free to ignore that)

[apple-os]

ppl who like making friends solely with one-note cardboard boxes who will hang out with them when it's convenient and never open up about who they are as people and what their lives are like dni

[monsterbisexual]

jesus n judas sure were doomed by the narrative :D <3 but did not kiss on the lips :'( </3

[exopelagic]

I am baking cake at midnight and it is going to kill me <3