#then it was satisfaction that brought it back

[starcrossedxwriter]

Double Trouble (Aaron Pierre x Black Reader x MBJ)

Warnings! NSFW, HEAVY BDSM, HEAVY Daddy kink, threesome (MFM), Everything is consensual! Degredation kink, Praise kink, Bratty reader, Dom! Aaron, Dom!MBJ

A/N: went hella overboard with this one! The plot is pure filth.

***

“Baby?” 

Your soft calls were barely loud enough to be heard over your boyfriend’s latest afrobeats obsession, which blasted through your shared home’s sound system. You lazily kicked off your red bottoms, a guttural sigh of relief escaping you as your exhausted feet relaxed out of the painful position it required to sport such beautiful but impractical shoes all day.

On your way to hunt down the love of your life, you stopped by your study, not even bothering to turn on the light as you discarded your Chloe work tote in your chair and closed the door behind you. 

After closing the biggest case of your career, you would not need to see the interior of either of your offices for a week and that almost brought tears of joy to your eyes. You and Aaron did not even have the energy to plan a trip. Having just wrapped a project two weeks prior, you both were overjoyed to spend a week at home wrapped up in each other.

You rolled your shoulders. Prayerfully, your boyfriend would take pity on you and give you a massage to ease the knots that took up residence in your back. You lazily made your way to the kitchen, knowing where you’d find the man you loved - but currently did not like. 

His back was to the arched entryway as you snuck in behind him, stealing a grape from his masterful charcuterie board that sat nearby. 

Despite your righteous annoyance at him, you never missed an opportunity to simply admire Aaron in his element. Like most actors, he suffered from the curse of always having to be “on.” But in the sanctuary of your home, he could just be Aaron, your gentle, loving, goofy, carefree boyfriend. 

And it certainly helped that he looked positively delicious today, setting a stupid table for a stupid dinner you didn’t want to host. He did every day but something was about him today in particular just made you want to sink to your knees and worship him with your tongue. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction today. You were pissed off. 

And that lust simply soured into red hot annoyance at the surprise guest your too-kind boyfriend invited to dinner. And while you never usually complained about company,  after months of endless days and sleepless and sexless nights, your vision of a relaxing evening was not entertaining a third wheel. 

It was a tall glass of wine, an amazing meal. And… then having your daddy twist you into a literal human pretzel and fuck the stress out of your body. 

But he hated you, clearly.

A sentiment you articulated (along with others) in a snarky text hours earlier. But Aaron, forever unbothered by your theatrics, merely responded that you should trust your daddy because… 

Daddy knows best. 

And despite the strong independent lawyer inside you who demanded control and to be right (and she usually was), you knew he was right about this one thing. Aaron could always see exactly what you needed. 

And despite your attitude earlier, you still spied his traditional gift for you after winning a big case neatly displayed on the white marble counter: your favorite cake from a bakery nearby and a bouquet of tulips. The varying vibrant shades of pink made something in your soul smile. He knew you too well.

Your silent studying did not go unnoticed for long, Aaron turning around not even startled to find you there. His expressive eyes lit up at the sight of your half grin, which you tried to suppress because you were supposed to be angry at him, and the hand on your hip as you leaned into the counter. 

He was in front of you before you could blink, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into his embrace. His muscles were threatening to destroy the fabric of his crisp button down, many of his clothes ill equipped to handle the additional muscles he gained for his latest project. 

“Hey princess.” 

Forever a brat and annoyed at the implosion of your plans for the night, you jerked your head to the side as he kissed you, forcing his lips to catch your cheek instead. 

Aaron merely let out a low chuckle, knowing that your bark was far worse than your bite. 

When it came to Aaron, you were about as strong as a lawn chair. You’d fold without resistance. Every. Single. Time. You always thought you were God’s strongest soldier… until you met Aaron. Kryptonite indeed. 

“Still mad at me?” 

“Yes,” you folded your arms as best you could against your chest, scoffing. “Between you playin’ the british assassin all around LA and me trying to negotiate with that asshole partner, we’ve had zero time together and no time to relax. And our first real free night in months without briefs and lines to run, you wanna play captain save a nigga with your friend? And then you spring it on me on some last minute shit. Those lips aren’t gonna get you outta this one, A.” 

“I know, I know, Y/N. And I’m sorry for messing up your plans for the night. I know how excited you are to finally have a break. But I’m trying to surprise you so please just trust me. If I know you like I think I do, you’re gonna like it.” 

“Well I think we’re about to make history then.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The first time you get a surprise wrong. Honestly it’s probably a good thing? You’ve always been a bit too perfect to be real,” you added, causing him to grin. “But the only thing I would like right now is for you to fuck me into oblivion. So unless this dinner guest can help with that, I doubt I’ll like it. But what’s done is done. Now let me go so I can get ready.” 

A stare down. Another moment where you’d inevitably crumbled. Because only Jesus himself was strong enough to stare in those eyes and not give this man everything you had. 

However, to your surprise, he looked away from you first, nodding and letting his arm fall so you could head upstairs. 

You started to walk out of the kitchen, prepared to sulk the last of your frustrations away before putting on the smile of a gracious host when you heard him call after you. 

“What if they can?”

“What if they can what?” you glanced behind you. 

“Help me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You lurched forward, his words stopping you dead in your tracks. 

No… he couldn’t mean… The tiniest thrill of excitement jolted across your brain like a shooting star. But you steadied yourself. He couldn’t possibly mean what you were thinking. So you played it off. 

“Ha. ha. Ha. Very funny, A.” 

“You hear me laughin’?” 

You slowly turned around to find him behind you, his eyes brimmed with pure lust. But nothing in his face signaled he was joking about a single thing. 

“Remember all those fantasies you told me about, princess?” 

It would take lifetimes for you to forget. You had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life telling Aaron every filthy fantasy you had while he fucked you on your apartment balcony. You prayed they were long forgotten by breakfast the next morning, but he remembered every single one. And ever since, he made it his mission to help you fulfill them. 

“Wait… you’re ser- you’re serious? You want to-” 

It was most certainly a fantasy but the practicalities of it seemed unrealistic. You never seriously considered that Aaron would ever try to arrange it.

He merely smirked and pressed his lips to the top of your nose. His voice was low, hypnotic and mesmerizing. 

“Got a few treats upstairs for you. Go get ready.” 

“Wait… we aren’t gonna talk about this?? You aren't gonna give me details?” 

“Nah. You’re gonna be a good girl for me tonight right, baby? I’d hate to punish you in front of company, princess.” 

But EYE wouldn't hate that. A voice echoed in your brain, the thought of a spanking making you want to disobey just for the hell of it.

“Of course you’d like the sound of that,” he teased you before his eyes softened a bit. You could tell he saw it. That kernel of hesitation at the whole affair, that side of you that had to be in the driver’s seat wanting to talk and litigate every risk before you leaned into the pleasure of it.

“Hey, Y/N… baby. This is just going to be a fun night. And the moment it’s no longer fun for you, we stop. Just like that. Just say the word. If you aren’t feelin' it and him, we end it and it's still just a fun night with a friend. Understand?” 

You nodded before correcting yourself so he didn’t have to. “Yes, I understand. Your surprise might’ve won out again… maybe you really are perfect.”

He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been tryin' to tell you. Just gotta trust me. Now go get ready. Only wear what I laid out for you.” 

Every step to your master suite pumped up your adrenaline. And made you fall deeper in love with your boyfriend. And his ability to fulfill your needs and desires and center your pleasure. He knew your limits, your boundaries, your needs and never wavered. 

A black cocktail dress waited for you with strappy gold heels. Along with your gold choker, with “good girl” engraved on its gold charm and your gold bullet.

Your skin felt electrified, a buzz radiating from every cell as you readied yourself. You weren’t surprised at the slick already pooling at the crest of your thick thighs when you slid your thong to the side and eased the bullet into you. You hissed at the cool silicone against your heat but you persisted. It was uncomfortable for a moment but as you continued dressing, you long forgot its presence. You knew its companion, a small gold remote, was with your master. Exactly where it should be.

You examined yourself in the mirror, hands running over your soft curves as you studied yourself. You had to admit that Aaron picked well. The dress accentuated his favorite parts of your body, hugging your hourglass shape so your ass and thighs were on display. The cutouts and mirroring each side of your ribs and plunging neckline would give him easy access to your boobs, which were begging to be freed from the confines of the tight bodice. 

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous baby.” 

“Thank you. You picked well.” 

“Final touch?” he picked up your choker, which waited for him on the bed. He always had the privilege of putting it on you. Because it signified the official start of your game. When the choker was on, your pleasure, your body was his to command, his to give and his to take away. Sweet surrender of control to the person you trusted most in this world. 

He towered over you as he stood behind you and placed the piece on your neck.  

“We’re gonna have dinner, dessert and then if you’re comfortable with continuing the night, just ask him to stay for a drink. Otherwise, the night will end. Understand?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” His hands traced the hourglass shape of your curves, his hands stilling only once along the near-indistinguishable lines of your thong. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, the shrill chime of their doorbell interrupted him. He sighed, turning you around in his arms. “Later. Ready to have some fun?” 

“Yes daddy.” 

Even in heels you had to stretch yourself to reach his lips. He took your hand, leading you down the stairs, some of your nerves being replaced by sudden intrigue. 

“You really aren’t gonna tell me who it is??” 

“What would be the fun in that?” With a wink back at her, he jogged the remaining steps and crossed the foyer with the quickness of an athlete and swung their door open. 

“Hey man! Thanks for coming by. Glad we could do this.” 

“Definitely, definitely. Thanks for the invite, man.” 

And that was the second time today you found yourself stopped dead in your tracks. The Michael B. Jordan stepped into your foyer, his charisma and star-powered charm oozing out of his pores as if he naturally produced it. 

Fuck me. He invited your celebrity crush, the main character of far more wet dreams than you’d ever admit out loud. And while Aaron was it for you, if you could ever take advantage of the “celebrity hall pass” concept, Michael Bae Jordan would be at the top of your list.

Well, that’s what he’s here to do. Daddy does indeed know best. 

At first, you had a feeling you’d be taking Aaron’s out. But now? Hell would have to freeze over before you gave up the opportunity of your dreams. Part of you cursed yourself for not guessing it was him to begin with. Aaron had been in a total bromance with the man since they wrapped filming. But now you had more questions. How did this even come up? How do you organize a threesome? Is this just a normal thing to talk about?

Who the fuck cares? You’re about to have the night of your life. 

You pushed them to the back of your mind, filing them away for tomorrow.

“And I don’t think you met my girl yet officially, but this is Y/N." The introduction forced your legs to start to move again, down the stairs and toward him.

“Geesh… they didn’t make lawyers like this when I was comin’ up. Michael,” he introduced himself. He held out his arms for a hug. “Aaron’s told me so much about you.” 

“Good thin-,” You started to toss your boyfriend a teasing grin as you closed the last couple of feet to return Michael’s hug. However, just as you were in arm’s length, the forgotten vibrator nestled inside you came alive. You let out an involuntary cross between a sigh and a moan that couldn’t be hidden. 

Could the ground open and just swallow me? 

Michael’s eyes glistened with amusement, letting you know he was not ignorant to your reality. 

“You good, baby girl?” he asked, with a knowing grin as you tried to avoid squirming in his embrace.

“Y-Yea, yea. Just h-had a chill. I was just gonna say that I hope he’s t-telling you good things,” you stammered, the jolts of pleasure siphoning off fractions of your vocal ability.

“Only good things, I promise. Just that you were the sexiest and best lawyer he’d ever seen. He was right about the first part, I’m sure he’s right about the second too.” 

“Hardly the best.” Your tone and smile were the picture of humility at his praise. You liked the sound of it on his lips, you also didn’t hate the way “baby girl" sounded when he said it too. 

“Y/N is being hella modest. She’s about to be the youngest junior partner in her firm’s history. And the first black woman.” 

“Aye! That’s what’s up! So we’re celebrating tonight?”

You grinned. “Don’t wanna get ahead of ourselves… just office gossip you know. We’ll see in a week.” 

Fuck, he was sexier than you imagined. Somehow tvs and movies simply didn’t do him justice. Like Aaron, he was at his peak physical weight, his muscles thick and lethal. They both stood in front of you looking like Gods, cut from the most perfect stone. 

“I-it’s just so great to meet you. You’re one of my favorite actors.” 

Michael drank you in like you were the finest glass of scotch, savoring every inch of skin exposed, every curve on prominent display. You felt hot underneath his stare, as if he had xray vision to see the promised lands this dress covered. You almost wilted like a flower under his intensity. 

We aren’t gonna make it through dinner, you thought to yourself. Or I can just be dinner. 

It was not your worst thought by far. The vision was quite enticing. Aaron ordering you to strip for them before displaying you on the table so they could feast on you. Your eyes darkened with clouds of lust. You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, noting the amused glance that passed between the two men. Were all your thoughts broadcasting to them? 

“We… should go into the dining room. Dinner’s basically ready,” you offered as the lamiest attempt to escape the spotlight of them. You held your hand out for his coat, giving both men a perfect view of your ass as you turned to hang it in the closet. 

You didn’t attempt to hide the grin at the quiet but distinguishable wolf whistle from Michael. It felt good to know he liked what he saw. 

And the feeling was most certainly mutual. Michael and Aaron kept you laughing all through dinner as they enthralled you with stories from set. He was engaging and funny and you loved the genuine brotherhood between him and your boyfriend. There was nothing but raw sexual chemistry between you but that was all you needed. Mutual attraction.

The only disappointing aspect of dinner was the utter silence between your legs. Once he turned it off at the start of dinner, Aaron didn’t touch that remote again, much to your chagrin. Two hours and several glasses of wine at the dinner table with two men gently caressing your arms and exposed thighs was a recipe for disaster. And you knew he could tell, see how worked up they had made you, how desperately you wanted more attention. 

By dessert, you stopped retaining their words. They were utter nonsense to you because there were far more important things to consider. Like Michael’s dominating muscles and large hands, wondering how strong his grip will be when he fucks you from behind. Punishingly so, you prayed. 

You swung between wanting to savor the compliments and worship of two men with needing to be filled, a need that almost had you begging them to fuck you right amongst the dinner plates. But you knew Aaron. The night was young and he liked to play with his prize. 

By everyone��s fifth glass of wine, the conversation started to wind down, Michael getting up to head home. 

“Thanks so much for this, man. Appreciate the invite. Good to catch up n shit.”

“Oh you have to leave so soon?” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, coupled with the pleas of your signature puppy eyes. 

“I probably should… Gettin’ late, can’t take up your whole night.” 

You assessed the moment briefly, confirming with every cell in your body and functioning brain cell in your head that you needed this more than the oxygen in the room. 

So instead of wishing this walking wet dream a good night, you said, “You should stay for one more drink. We got this amazing bottle when we went to the South of France for our anniversary. Baby, we should open it and sit outside? It’s so nice out. We’re down to keep the good times going if you are.” 

“You sure?”

“I insist! Besides, between the three of us, I think we can find some ways to entertain ourselves." The implication in your words couldn't be clearer. You were in and you were ready. 

“I’ll grab that bottle from the cellar. Take Michael outside and make him comfortable, princess. Show him a good time while I’m gone.”

And with that, he turned your vibrator back on. He chose the second setting, which was just distracting enough to make the simple tasks of walking, talking and speaking exponentially harder for you. 

“Yes sir.” 

You forced your feet toward the giant sliding glass doors that led to your expansive backyard. You glanced behind you to find Michael jogging up behind you as he slid something into his pocket.

You tried to distract yourself from the pulses against your g-spot, the growing tension in your belly as pleasure started to build ever so slowly, by turning on the soft string lights hanging above your patio and the speakers to play music. 

“Yall got a great view.” 

“It was definitely the selling point of the house,” you smiled, awkwardly standing behind one of the chairs across from the couch.

His stance was wide, powerful and assured as he stared at you. 

“You gonna sit with me?” When you didn’t move, he sighed. “He said you were obedient. But maybe you just need an incentive…” 

Your knees almost gave out beneath you as he increased the setting to five. 

“If you wanna feel better, I think you should sit, baby girl,” he offered, his voice low and comforting. “I don’t bite, promise.”

The menacing glint in his eyes let you know that he most certainly would bite if asked. And you would most certainly ask. 

“S-sorry,” you awkwardly, quickly finding your way to the couch next to him. You started to sit when he beckoned you closer with a mere gesture of his finger. By the time he had you where he wanted you, you were sitting on his lap. 

You leaned into his chest, your eyes falling closed as pleasure shot through you with every pulsing vibration. You bit the inside of your cheek to avoid moaning. 

“You ok, Y/N? Seem a little flustered?” His fingers created flames all across your bare thigh as he subtly pushed up the fabric of your dress. 

There was still something… tamed about how he touched you and caressed you. He came so close to the spots that demanded a firm strong hand, he held back every time. Like right now. Drawing featherlike patterns on your exposed side, toying with the edges of your thong but not shifting them to the side like you craved. 

No, he simply savored the time teasing you, enjoying the soft moans his touch and the bullet caused. 

“I’... I’m… fine, t-thank you,” you whispered back. “Just… o-overwhelmed.” 

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” his husky voice demanded in your ear. At the sound, you couldn't suppress the moan of pleasure that escaped your lips. You rolled your hips, chasing more.

“Y-Yes…” you whimpered. “P-Please…” 

“How’s my girl treating you, Michael?” Aaron’s voice interrupted their moment, his eyes piercing with desire as you writhed and rode another man's thigh. You looked perfect, unrestrained and free. 

“Oh she’s perfect. You got a great girl here, A.”

“I know… she is. But she disobeyed me earlier so before she can cum, we have to punish her. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Y-yes sir.” You didn’t even know what you did wrong but you weren’t going to argue or push back on him. Because this was already like entering a promised land of bliss. To hear him speak so openly about your punishment to another man while he masturbated you on his lap? Aaron was right. This was the destressor you really required. 

“Can you tell Michael and daddy what you did wrong, princess?” 

You raked your brain, knowing that “I don’t know” would only increase your punishment. Not that you would have particularly minded. Frequent punishments were simply the norm for a proud and loud brat. 

And then it hit you, such a small and silly infraction that Michael’s fingers were currently playing with. 

“I… w-wore my panties w-when I wasn’t allowed,” you answered. 

“That’s right. And we don’t cover up daddy’s prize, do we?” 

“No… daddy.” 

“You want to be a good girl for Michael and I… don’t you?”  

His voice was hypnotic. Despite the pleasure disobeying him brought, you could not help but want to please him, to be his good girl again. 

“Y-yes, daddy.” 

“And good girls deserve what?” 

“Punishment before pleasure.” 

“That’s right, baby. So tonight, Michael’s gonna have the honor. How many spankings you think our slut deserves?” 

“I’d say 25… 30?” 

“30 feels fair. What do you think, princess?” 

“Wh-whatever daddy wants,” you whimpered. That was the only acceptable response. Besides, you knew Aaron knew your limits and wouldn’t let Michael cross them.  “That's right, baby girl. She can be good when she wants to, just needs remindin’ of her place sometimes,” he mused. And with that, Michael turned off the bullet, a groan of pure frustration escaping your lips.

Punishment before pleasure, you reminded yourself. Why can’t my punishment be sucking their dicks or something?? 

Michael helped you up, your legs feeling slightly weak after they robbed you of your orgasm. They didn’t bother trying to carry you up the stairs, Michael merely directed you to your deep forest green sectional in the living room and leaned you over one of its arms. He slid off his belt and tied your hands behind your back, ensuring they were loose enough to avoid injury but tight enough not to escape without effort. 

You were deliciously helpless. 

“Fuck, that’s a gorgeous sight,” you could hear Michael mutter as the two men merely stared at you, boobs pressed out due to your hands being bound, your ass high in the air from being bent over. “Her ass is perfect, man.”

“It’ll look even better when you’re done. Don’t hold back. She loves that shit and she knows our safe word.” 

You were glad he assured Michael that you would adore the sweet sting of his palm. You encouraged Aaron to put his entire weight into your spankings when you took on the role as his princess. Forever a gentle soul at his core, he did not like the idea of causing you real, significant pain, preferring to lean heavily into other aspects of dominating you. 

It certainly made you fall more in love with him, witnessing his gentleness and concern for your well-being to such a degree. You supposed it was the greenest of flags that it took about 10 long discussions for him to feel comfortable. And even years later, he still checked in throughout to make sure you still enjoyed it. You weren’t a masochist by any means spankings in particular were more than enticing to you. It left you drenched and on the cusp on an orgasm without Aaron doing anything else. 

Even more so right now with your ass presented to the two men like a hard-earned prize. You subconsciously stuck your ass out further in search of something. A touch, a slap… literally anything. Your body was reeling. 

And you did not even care who was behind you to give you what you needed.

“She’s fuckin’ desperate for it.” 

“Yea, she’ll be begging you for it in a minute. I mean I was gone for what? 5 minutes, princess? And I come back and you're humpin' his leg like a filthy whore? And you loved it didn't you? Wanted more? I bet you wanna beg him to tear that ass up right now, don't you?” 

Daddy knows me too well. Because the word please was on the cusp of your lips, begging to tumble over like water on a cliff. 

You moaned as two hands gripped the firm meat of your ass, kneading and caressing you before they found the helm of your dress. You knew exactly whose hands they were, confirming that Aaron was indeed giving Michael the pleasure of administering your punishment. 

His fingers pushed your dress up the rest of the way to expose your ass cheeks, an unmistakable wet spot at the center of your thong. 

“Don’t think she’ll be needing this anymore. Whatchu think?” Michael asked Aaron as his finger hooked the delicate fabric around her hips. 

“Nahhh, definitely not.” 

“FUCK!” You cried out as your thong was unceremoniously ripped clean from your body, the fabric leaving welts on your skin. 

You felt his fingers graze your lips.

“All this for us, kitten?” 

You merely whimpered an affirmative answer as he presented his fingers covered in your juices. He stuck them in your mouth, you sucking your cum clean off his fingers.

"Can't wait to make you cum all over my tongue, kitten. You taste so fuckin' good."

“P-Please…” You thought you’d implode if you continued to suppress your desperation. Your body felt as if you were betraying her. Why weren’t you trying hard enough, begging loud enough to earn the pleasure you were being deprived of. 

“See?” 

“You weren’t lyin’. Tell me what you want, kitten”  

He’s gonna make me say it?? 

The words were caught in your throat, blocked by a mental barrier to admit such a depraved thought out loud. 

“If you wanna cum at all tonight, I suggest you say that shit. Cause we got all night.” 

The lethal warning in his tone forced your thighs together, an electric shock through your body. He was a natural. And the dominance in his voice was all it took to rip the weeds of hesitation right out of your soil. 

“S-spank me… please,” Half words, half sobs filled the quiet air. This was untenable. Could you die from this? It felt like you might die from this. “I n-need it. P-Punish me… please.” 

The first vicious sting of his hand did make a real sob of joy escape, the sound reverberating through the living room. 

You buried your face in the couch cushion for the first few in a foolish attempt to quiet your mounting screams of pain wrapped in the sweet pleasure. His brute strength ensured you felt the ache of every hit. On par with Aaron when your punishments were severe. You were still feeling it days later. 

Your head pulled back, his fist wrapped around your curls.

“Do that again and I add five. Understand?” 

“Y-yes, yes. I’m sorry,” you moan, keeping your eyes forward and head up. 

You felt familiar hands cradle your head, Michael releasing your strains to play with your slick folds in between each blow. 

Aaron’s body came into view as he held your chin, forcing you to stare into his beautiful eyes. Clouded with lust, you still could see every ounce of his love and devotion. 

“You ok, precious?” he whispered. “Got 10 more.” 

“M-More.”

“You’re such a good slut for me, baby. I love you.” His eyes softened a bit. “You want a treat while Michael gives you your punishment? I wouldn’t usually but tonight is all about you, princess.” 

You licked your lips, the sudden sparkle in your eyes answering his question without words. You were impatient at the pace he went to unbutton his pants. 

He knew how much you loved sucking dick. Genuinely loved it. On more than one occasion, you came home after a long day and immediately dropped to your knees to serve him unprompted. Of course, it always ended up leading to him giving you back the same pleasure tenfold. So it was a win all around. 

You licked the beads of precum from his head before enveloping him into your mouth, moaning around him just as Michael rained down the last of your punishment. 

Fire. Your skin felt hot and inflamed with every bite of his palm against your skin. And they sent jolts of lust straight to your clit. 

“You’re taking your punishment so well. You’re not gonna disobey me again, are you?” 

Strings of your spit stayed connected to his dick as he pulled back so you could answer him. 

“Never again, daddy!”  

“That’s my good girl. You took that so well. Didn’t she?” 

You hissed as he gently massaged your hot skin. Fuck, why did his hands feel so good? 

“She did. You think she’s ready, A?” 

“I think she is.” 

You found a secret joy in the way they spoke only to you to dole out orders, but then talked about you to each other like you were merely a piece of furniture.

Aaron scooped you up in his arms, your body immediately nestling into his chest as he carried you to your master suite. He tossed you on the bed like a rag doll as Michael closed the door to your suite. And for a few moments, they simply stood there. Towering over you, intoxicated by the power and anticipation, they didn’t speak or move. They just watched you squirm beneath them. 

“You know I love you right?” Aaron broke character for a single moment. 

“Of course.” 

“Good. Cause it ain’t gon' seem like it for a minute. You know how daddy wants you.” 

Fuck. Yes. 

There was a challenging grin on your face as you removed the last obstacle to their conquest, leaving you bare before them. With great pleasure, you shifted onto your hands and knees and sank into position. Presenting yourself to him. Vulnerable, exposed. To two apex predators. 

And you were ready to be devoured. 

Michael pounced with such swiftness of jaguar indeed, you suddenly finding yourself straddling his hips. His punishing grip around your lower back kept you flush to his chest as his lips claimed yours. 

Frenzied, animalistic, downright sloppy kisses as you two gave into your most base desires. There was no love here, just lust in its most instinctual level. You two fought for dominance in your kisses, you mainly showing him that you were no damsel.

He moved you with ease, like you were a feather, turning you so your head dangled off the edge of the bed.

“I think our kitten needs a bit of attention.” 

His lips kissed a burning trail down your body, veering off course to engulf each of your nipples in his wet mouth, while his hand played with your throbbing clit. 

You whined, feeling his breath against your sex, his grip holding your hips firmly to the bed to stop you from getting any more pleasure than he decided. 

“So eager.” 

He licked up the wetness that spread to your thighs, still avoiding touching you there. He was a menace. The devil really.

You screamed as he wrapped his lips around your bud, every nerve ending in your body zeroed in on him.  

Aaron guided your agape mouth onto his hard member again, your tongue licking him like he was your favorite lollipop. He exchanged the bullet for his fingers, easing a second one inside your pussy. 

Your litany of curse words were indecipherable with Aaron’s mouth ramming down your throat. He did not let you control the pace one bit. Your mouth was merely a means to an end for him. 

You gagged, tears streaming down your face from the sensory overload of having them work in tandem to bring you pain, pleasure, and everything in between.

You arrived at the cliffs of pleasure far faster than you expected, your body ready to fall for the first time all night. Your thighs tightened around Michael’s head as you tried to control it. Foolish it sounded, to stop the fall. But you couldn’t tumble just yet. 

You didn’t stop your task of sucking to ask. Instead, you simply stared up at him with plea-filled round eyes.

“Cum on his tongue, princess. Cum for daddy.” 

You dove off the cliff with earnest as Michael chose that moment to add a fourth finger, finger fucking you with relentless speed.You let your eyes fall close and surrendered to the crashing waves and thrilling currents that pulled you into oblivion. Right where you wanted to be. 

Only Aaron could find the cherry on top to this already perfect sundae as he spilled down your throat. It was typically reserved for her treat as he knew you adored swallowing. And you were grateful he found you deserving. 

Aaron took a step back, you pouting at the loss of his dick in your mouth.

“Don’t worry, princess. Won’t be your last taste for the night.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply, a soft whimper escaping at how familiar his lips felt. Home. “I think you need to thank Michael for punishing you earlier and making you cum. How do good whores say thank you?” 

"On their knees, daddy."

You moved off the bed and onto the carpet, Michael already sliding off his boxers. Your voice hitched as his girthy thick member sprang from his boxers.

He smirked told her he knew what he was wielding and how to use it well. Admittedly, you had only had sex with three men in your life, two of whom were present. But you felt confident in saying these two Gods among lesser men had the most impressive dicks you’d ever seen. 

You’d never live down the humiliation of your near panic attack during you and Aaron’s first time. 

“I don’t think you’ll fit,” you remember muttering before trying to escape to hide in his bathroom, your brain overloaded with the fear that he would somehow break you. 

But like the perfect gentlemen he was, he held you close and calmed you with sweet kisses and talked you through every inch as he sank into you for the first time. He naturally reached regions you thought were anatomically impossible. You often referred to it as his weapon, one that left you utterly immobile too often. 

Michael was similarly blessed and highly favored. Though he lacked a bit of Aaron’s length, his had a girth to it that you knew would cause a stinging stretch. It would be different and you liked the idea of that. As much as your body wanted to skip to that part, you also were feral for a taste of him. 

Aaron sat in the arm chair across the room, the perfect view to watch as Michael slid his dick between your plump lips. He stroked his dick back to life watching you spit and gulp down his dick.

“That’s right. Fuckkkk. Get it sloppy, baby girl. Fuck your throat feels good.” 

Your body glowed at his praise, Aaron grinning to himself. He adored seeing you in this light, gaining a new perspective to how you felt freedom and pleasure. He never wanted to stop learning how to love you better, please you better. 

Inexplicable pride swelled when your eyes connected with him, your dilated pupils lighting up at his smile.

“You ready for me to fuck that pussy, kitten?” Michael demanded, punctuating each word with a deep thrust into the back of your throat. Attempting to respond was a foolish endeavor with him balls deep down your throat. 

He pulled out of your mouth and lifted you up to your feet, immediately moving you into his desired position. He bent you over the edge of the bed, one hand glued to your hip while the other pushed your head into the mattress. He positioned you so you were staring right at Aaron.  

Being watched. New kink unlocked. You were an actress on display and he was your director, in full control. And it was time to watch his masterpiece. 

Your eyes fluttered out of enticing humiliation and bliss as Michael’s head bounced against your pulsing clit. 

“Eyes open, princess. And on me."

And this was a moment that made you question who you truly were. A good girl or a disobedient slut? The devil on your shoulder didn’t need deliberation time. You were a disobedient whore. You wanted to be utterly spent when this night was over. 

But you also knew he knew that, which is why he picked a task he knew you’d fail either way. You could try as hard as you wanted, it would be impossible to maintain eye contact. 

“You ready for Michael to fuck you, princess?” 

“Yesssss! Fuck me… I need it.” It was as critical to your survival as air. 

You immediately failed at your task, your eyes clenching shut as he pushed inside of you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you hissed, begging for the moment when the lightening flash of pain subsided and pleasure took root. 

“Fuckin’ tight ass pussy on you, kitten,” he gave you a few moments to adjust. When your expletives turned into quiet moans, he moved. 

"Won't tell you this shit again, princess. Eyes open and on me or I start spankin’ you when it’s my turn. And you ain’t gon’ like that shit.” 

“Sorryyyy, dadddyyyyy.” 

His hips snapped viciously into you, his dick curving into your g-spot with every thrust. 

Bliss. 

Joy. 

You panted as  he fucked you with relentless precision, he didn’t let a moment go to waste as he fucked you. His grip along your hip was bruising as he pushed and pulled against your body. Never the lazy lover, you met every thrust, using your arms as leverage to throw your fat ass back at him. 

“That’s it! Take this dick, slut! You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??” he demanded, a hard smack coming down on your still aching ass when you didn’t answer fast enough. 

There was no way he actually believed you could form coherent thoughts right now. 

“I… love it! D-... don’t stop! Fuck… I’m gonna cum!” Your eyes had not stayed on your master as they should’ve, nor had you even tried that hard. But you deliberately cast them on him to beg for permission. “C-Can I cum daddy?? He feels so gooddddd…” 

“Why the fuck would I let you cum? You disobedient whore? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ instructions. 

Well shit. He was pissed. 

Your face was one of sadness at upsetting your daddy but everything inside was filled to the brim with glee. You weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. And then you could look forward to a day of aftercare and pampering from your love. 

“P-please, please. I-I’m sorry!! I tried. I-I can’t…” Michael was not helping your cause as you pleaded your case in front of a less than sympathetic judge. He found some superhuman ability to increase his already punishing pace, jackhammering into your g-spot. “Let me cum, pleasseeeee! I can’t hold it.” 

“She’s clenchin’ on my dick, brah.” 

You were going to cum either way, inevitably, but you were holding strong for those magic words. Moments before you felt yourself starting to break, you finally heard him.

“Cum for me.” 

“She’s creamin’ on this dick. This some good pussy, my man! You one lucky nigga.” He didn’t slow his pace as he fucked you through your second orgasm. "That's right, cum all over this dick, baby."

How were you not spent yet? No, you still wanted so much more. 

You lost track of your orgasms as Michael moved you into his desired positions, fucking you every type of way that suited him. And all the while, Aaron just watched, commanding your eyes to him in the moments leading up to your orgasms, forcing you to hold his gaze across the dark room. 

You thought the Earth had reversed on its axis somehow. 

“I’ll let you decide where you want it, kitten. On you or down your throat.” 

“Cum on my ass!” 

“Whatever baby girl wants.” He pulled out of you and sprayed your back and ass cheeks with his seed. You sighed out of contentment as you laid there, knowing your night was far from over. But you were grateful for the brief reprieve. 

Michael shifted off to the side as Aaron rejoined you, the Brit studying your ass painted in another man’s cum. If there was a way be any harder than he already was, he would be it right now. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, princess. I love you so much, you’re such a good girl for me. You ready for daddy, now?” 

You nodded enthusiastically. Michael was amazing but no one fucked you quite like Aaron. Those were the simple facts. 

“Good girl,” he flipped you and pushed your legs up so your knees were essentially up at your ears. 

This was a frankly evil thing to do, to start with this position. It was simplistic but he would pound you so deep, you saw fucking stars. At this rate, you would be tapping out far earlier than you would have hoped. 

“Ahhhh! Yessssss… thank you daddy! Love your dick, daddy!” You screamed as he entered you in one fluid motion, ending deep in your guts. 

“You take me so well, baby. You like how deep I’m fuckin’ this pussy?” 

“Yes, yes! Shit! God I love it! Oh Goddddd, fuck, baby…” 

“Ain’t no God to call out to here, princess. Just your masters.”

You gasped at the sudden all consuming emptiness of him exiting you. You felt his hand catch your ankle, which was still in the air where he left you. He dragged you to the edge of the bed and lifted you to your feet. You almost collapsed on your stiff legs but you quickly realized, he was not intending for you to support your own weight long. 

He hinged you at the waist, your fingertips supporting balancing some of your weight until he reentered you and regained control of your hips. He did all the work, holding all your weight with his strength as he fucked you straight into a sweet abyss. Nothing else mattered. Just the two of you. 

Well… three of you. Speaking of which… as if Aaron could read her mind, he says, “Suck him like the whore I know you are.” 

Using his strength to turn you both so you were eye level with Michael’s dick. He was getting hard, rested and ready for round two with ease. Both men looked as if they could do this all night while you knew you looked like you had been fucked just as good as you felt. 

You surrendered your mouth to Michael, allowing the actor to face fuck you to his heart’s content. And you simply enjoyed every moment of them fucking your holes like men possessed. No breaks, no time for breaths. Nothing. Just unforgiving feral fucking. 

You didn’t bother counting the orgasms they gave you as the two men traded places multiple times, using your mouth and pussy to their heart’s content. They worked up a perfect rhythm that brought you thrilling moment after thrilling moment  

“Don’t run, fuckin’ whore! You been takin’ it all night. Came in here with that fuckin' attitude. Take this dick!” Aaron ordered as you shied away from his forceful thrusts as he fucked you doggy style. 

Your body was being driven past overload as they stimulated every part of you. You could barely concentrate on Michael’s dick in front of your face with how Aaron was fucking you, clearly getting the last word of the evening. 

You thought you knew what overstimulation felt like but you had no fucking idea until today. But you knew the orgasm you were building toward would be your best yet, would be worth every moment of this. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” Michael called out. 

“I’m close too. Daddy’s gonna cum in this sweet pussy, baby. But first, your other punishment. Cum as much as you want.” 

And with that, he and Michael went utterly and completely feral on your body, chasing one goal: their collective simultaneous pleasure. 

Michael grunted as he painted your face in his cum, much of it landing in your open mouth. He collapsed on the bed next to you, your body immediately crumbling forward without him holding you up. He caressed your skin as Aaron mercilessly fucked you, matching every thrust of his hips forward with a harsh slap to your ass. You knew you would have to endure as many as it took for him to cum.

Shit. You really fucked up.

You screamed and squealed, Michael roughly making out with you and sucked and bit your titties as if you needed more. You and Aaron reached the peaks of your mountains at the same time. At the warmth of him filling your pussy, white blanketed in your vision and sent you free falling into a new stratosphere.

Time felt inconceivable when you opened your eyes again. In your mind, no time had passed but instead of being on the bed, you were surrounded by warmth. Warm water lapped over your aching muscles, something hard propping you up from behind. 

“What’s…” you started to say, trying to lift up when a muscular arm snaked around your chest to hold you flush to him. 

“Relax, relax, princess. You’re good. Take a breath. Just blacked on us for a minute.” 

His voice calmed all the uneasy waters of your soul, you were safe and home with him. There was no better place to be in this life or the next. 

“Where’s… our guest?” Your voice cracked from the overuse of your throat. You rubbed your neck instinctively. 

“I’ll make you some tea when we get out,” he kissed your temple. “And he passed out in one of the guest rooms. I may have told him there was a strong possibility you’d be up for another round in an hour or two. Told me to get him when you finish soakin’ so he can give you a massage.” 

And you knew exactly where the yellow brick road of a massage would lead: to the Emerald Fucking City of Round 4.  

Your libido was just as high, if not higher than Aaron’s. More than once, it had been you demanding rounds 4-6 after he already wore you out during 1-3.

“One day you’re gonna get it wrong, you know?” you tease, allowing your head and back to rest with ease onto his chest. His hands massaged your hips and thighs and breasts, all sore from their spanking and biting. “That feels soooo good. You got the magic touch, baby.” 

  You ok, love? We were rough on you.” 

“More than ok. That was the most… insane and fun thing I’ve ever done. Exactly what I needed and wanted. Thank you, Aaron.” 

“Anything for you, princess. Rest for me, love.” 

You allowed your eyes to flutter closed again, dozing in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms as he continued releasing knots from your muscles. You simply laid there with him, savoring him and the afterglow of being his. 

However, after about 15 minutes, you had rested long enough. This night would end eventually, you wanted to make the most of it with your two daddies. 

“Daddy… I think I’m ready for that massage now,” your eyes glistened with your true intentions, letting Aaron know that you were no close to done. 

He let out a low chuckle of disbelief. “You really are one of a kind, Y/N.” 

“I know,” you winked at him with a playful grin. “Now massage, please.,” you demanded like the spoiled brat you were.

Aaron got out of the bath first, his entire body glistening with water on every perfect panel of muscle and taunt skin. Was it nice being a bead of water sliding down that skin? It might be nice to be a bead of water on his skin. 

He quickly toweled himself off before helping you up, using his arms around you as your legs shook. 

He dried you before laying you back down on the bed, disappearing down the hall while you laid on your stomach and simply waited. 

“Well well well… couldn’t get enough could you, kitten?” 

You heard them before you saw them. 

“No sir.” 

“She’s insatiable. Makes her a good little whore for me, doesn’t it, princess?”

You felt their weight on both sides of the bed. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whined as their fingers started doing the Lord’s work massaging out every knot and kink buried in your limbs. 

You turned your head toward Aaron, reaching up and kissing him softly as a private thank you before laying down again. You closed your eyes and let them work, let them take care of you. 

Whoever said “three’s a crowd” clearly hadn’t met these two.

Tag list: @hxneyclouds @planetblaque @slutsareteacherstoo @theereina @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @apenasumlug4r @motheroffae @blackerthings @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @melaninpov @hiwasteland @yamst3rdamctrl @miyuhpapayuh @dxddykenn @sageispunk @atribecalledqwest @4pfsukuna @beenathembo @throwmymbackout @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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A/N: Hoped you enjoyed that as much as I did! Thanks for reading!

[targs-on-zorses]

A Good Night

Pairing - Cregan Stark x Reader Warnings - 18 + Smut, Sparring Summary - “A good night then, my Lord?” he said, loud enough for you to hear. You blushed deeper. Cregan glanced at himself, seeing the marks and smiling.

A/N: Very little to say here other than: I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta reading, and to my hype-people: @just-some-random-blogger @thenameswinter99 and @sylasthegrim. I hope you enjoy. I do not have a taglist as of yet

The day is brisk and cold, as it always is in the North, and yet the men of Winterfell get hot enough during sparring to remove their shirts, leaving scars and muscled torsos on display. Something that attracts the attention of many a lady or maid of Winterfell. Packs of women surround the battling men, giggling and whispering behind gloved hands. 

You rush down to the training yard, seeking out your husband, Cregan. The pleasant ache between your thighs punctuates every step, yet despite the heat emanating from your womanhood, you rub your hands together to stave off the cold, regretting having forgotten your own gloves in your haste.

It does not take you long to find Cregan in the throng of moving men, he stands taller than most. His Greatsword, Ice, is far larger than any sword you have ever seen. He is deep in his sparring with his good friend, Arnolf of House Locke, his shirt mercifully still on. The ancestral sword of his house, Ice, glints sharp and deadly in the soft morning light. You would be afraid for poor Arnolf were it not for his skill at dodging a blade. His other friend, Maynard Knott, prepared to spar nearby. 

You stood some distance away, not wanting to accidentally walk into the path of an axe or a sword. Your worst fear was being accidentally dealt a blow by a morning star.

Cregan had Arnolf flat on his behind with a few twirls of Ice. The man laughed, gracefully accepting his defeat, and the outstretched hand of his lord to get back on his feet. 

“It is an honour to be bested by my Lord Stark,” Arnolf panted. 

Cregan laughed, the rich sound carrying across the sparring grounds. As he walked to his starting position, ready to fight Manyard, he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. You took the chance to ogle at the light muscle of his torso, but you were not the only one staring at your husband, and you felt the bitter bite of jealousy, before pushing it away. Cregan did not care for those women who had thrown themselves at him; he only saw you, and no other.

He does not remove his shirt though, letting it drop amid sighs of disappointment from female onlookers, including you. It would have been such a nice sight, to watch the muscles of your husband’s biceps flex with the weight of his sword.

Your mind wanders to the previous evening, when all that strength was focused on you, as he had thrust into you, holding your face to keep your eyes focused upon his own, even as the pleasure reached such heights you could scarcely keep them open.

You shake your head, as if to clear your thoughts, for they are improper. Your septas had always instructed you that purity of mind was a virtue, and yet the feelings your husband elicited from you were the furthest thing from it. You feared what he would say if he knew you were thinking such things, thinking about his bare chest, the muscles of his arms, his weight pressing into you.

No, no! You would not think such things, they were most improper.

You turn your attention back to the sparring before you. Cregan seems to not have noticed you yet, but Arnolf had.

He approaches Cregan, tapping his friend’s shoulder. You cannot hear his words, but you guess them when your husband glances around. Arnolf chuckles and points in your direction. 

Cregan smiles, and all of those wanton thoughts you have been trying to banish come rushing straight back. Images of his smirk of satisfaction when he had brought you to peak for the third time that night, when you had tugged at his soft brown tresses, pulling him away, only for him to smirk again, and dive back into your cunt, feasting as you screamed his name. 

You blush under his gaze, and his smirk widens.

Arnolf notices this exchange and laughs loudly, as always. Cregan spares him a bemused glance before shaking his head. He plunges Ice into the cold hard ground, and, with one hand, yanks his shirt right over his head. Your breath catches in your throat as you behold him in the daylight. In the candlelight of your chambers, everything had been mercifully dimmed. Yet in the bright morning sunshine of Winter, the scars that criss cross his body, and the definition of his muscles, are luminated for all to see.

He grins again, wide as he watches your expression, and the way you shift to ease the ache between your thighs. You bite your lip, attempting to keep your face neutral, but you can feel the blood rush to your cheeks, betraying your flustered state.

He turns his back, and you gasp. Angry red lines marr the skin of his shoulders. You cannot remember seeing those before, and you had seen his bare back many times over. These marks were new, and you were the cause of them, a reminder of the previous evening’s exploits.

It had been too much, so much pleasure as he had thrust deeply, sucking your neck, determined to leave his mark. He’d cradled your head in one large hand, while the other held you to him. You had tangled your hands in his soft hair, tugging, to pull him from your neck. He released you, only to bury himself between your breasts, alternating between one and the other, licking, and pressing his lips all over.

“Cregan,” you whimpered breathlessly, “please.”

He chuckled, not slowing his thrusts. You gasped at the rush of air over your sensitive nipples.

“Please what?” he groaned at a particularly harsh tug of his hair from you.

You could barely speak for pleasure. You tugged wordlessly, moans and gasps escaping your lips. He relented, hauling himself up your body, capturing your lips with his. As he did so, his cock reached new depths within you. You cried out at the sudden wave of bliss, a cry that was muffled by his tongue invading your mouth. He kissed your face, licking away the tears, not tears of pain, but of pure ecstasy.

You clenched around him, knowing the apex of your pleasure was rapidly approaching. You nails dug into his shoulders, clinging onto him, desperate for something to ground you as your pleasure reached new heights.

Cregan moved back to your neck, muffling his groans. One hand cupped your head, while the other snaked its way down to your mound,seeking out your pearl.

Your peak crashed over you in white hot waves, and you bit into Cregan’s shoulder, your nails simultaneously digging into his back, needing something tangible to cling to as torturous bliss threatened to carry you away. You were grateful that he held you down as you arched against him.

He pulsated within you, groaning into your neck, as he found his own release, the warmth of it causing you to whimper and shudder beneath him. You laid there afterwards, panting in his arms, feeling his weight on top of you as his cock softened inside. He pushed himself up and off you, rolling to the side, and you moved after him, coming to rest upon his chest, still needing him close, having been rendered boneless from the intensity of the pleasure you had experienced.

You did not know how many times you had peaked that evening. You did not know what time it was, or how long you had been so passionately engaged for, the only clue was the fire that had burnt to embers. Cregan’s gentle hand in your hair soon soothed you to sleep. You were not aware of him cleaning you up, or tucking you in, or leaving a soft kiss on your forehead that morning.

You watch him now, cheeks flushed with the memories of your shared passion.

Manyard spots the marks on his back and chuckles to himself.

“A good night then, my Lord?” he says, loud enough for you to hear, causing you to blush more intensely.

Cregan glances at himself, seeing the marks and smiles. He turns to take in your mortified face, and chuckles. “A good night indeed, my friend. A very wonderful night.”

[cumikering]

Underground fighter Ghost x reader

3.3k | smut, light bondage The fighter in the balaclava caught you wet handed

Who knew the top floor of the most expensive hotel in the city was an underground fighting ring.

You blinked when your cousin told you, stars in her eyes as she patted her boyfriend’s thick bicep. You’d heard all about it, about people getting absolutely beaten, injured beyond repair in the aftermath. Sure, he made quite the money from fighting, but you didn’t understand why he’d risk his life like that.

It took you a few months to realise that after the nights he came home battered, your cousin would flinch away from you. Shoulders up to her ears, she’d pull down her sleeves that had already gone past her palms, avoiding your eyes.

It was then you wished the bastard would quit his bouncer job and fought full time. The more he fought, the sooner he simply… wouldn’t return home. So when she invited you to his fight that night, you weren’t going to pass up on the small chance of watching him get beaten to a pulp.

While he won his first fight, he didn’t last long at all in the second against an opponent bigger than him. When he fell backwards with a thud from a particularly hard blow, next to you, your cousin gasped. You couldn’t say you sympathised. Motherfucker had it coming.

The crowd cheered as the referee started his count above the coughing meat. When his limp body was hauled off, your cousin broke out of her trance and rushed to the door of the arena with a sob. Blood poured out of his nose, smeared as his feet dragged through it on the white floor of the ring.

You figured she was off tending to him and would soon leave the hotel even when he didn’t warrant the attention. No matter. You remained in place among the crowd. You’d dressed up, and his departure was no reason to end the night early. Also, you probably wouldn’t experience anything like this again.

Waiters in crisp shirts distributed another wave of champagne and dainty finger food in wait of the next and final fight. Did it make you a sadist, that seeing the bastard get thumped brought you unbridled joy and made the blood pump in your veins? That satisfaction bubbled in you when his mouthpiece flew out of him after the finishing blow, knowing he deserved it?

No wonder people paid bank to watch these fights.

You didn’t have a chance to mull your feelings over, because soon, the crowd erupted. The reigning champion, Ghost, entered the ring in his black balaclava to face the winner of the previous round.

He shrugged off his black satin robe, revealing his threatening physique along with his sleeve tattoo and the black boxing shorts that hung low on his hips. A perfect contrast to his milky skin. He didn’t have defined abs, but even under the deceivingly soft layer, he was solid.

He rolled his shoulders, his back, the right half of it covered in burn scars, rippled with the movement. If you thought the last winner was big, well, he didn’t look like he stood much a chance against Ghost.

You’d witnessed the damage he could do, but it was anybody’s guess what Ghost was capable of. It was sick, like watching someone on his last mission, but he wouldn’t have been here if he didn’t have it in him. You found yourself rooting for the underdog.

The round started. The underdog put up the fight of his life, movements frantic while Ghost remained calm and calculating. Between jabs, his arms remained in front of his face, muscles bunching and rippling at his opponent’s impact.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the guilt that simmered from watching the act before you that lit your body on fire. Ghost’s feet were nimble as he dodged the attacks, like he was amusing his challenger, taking his time playing with his food.

The clock ticked away above the arena. The dance went on for the entire around without any meaningful attacks landing when you knew full well Ghost could have ended it. If he wanted to.

Thinking of the sheer power he reserved in his body sent chills down your spine. He could lift you with no problems at all, and more, you decided.

Your gaze followed him as the fighters returned to their corners for their two minute break. He scanned the audience, and when his hard eyes met yours, your heart skipped a beat. The eye contact lingered a moment too long before you could look away.

The next round started. The underdog seemed to have shaken off his panic, more precise now in his attacks, some of which were successful. Ghost, though, continued to dodge and block instead of going on the offense even well into the third round.

Was this a courtship display? Males parading their superiority over others, a promise of security. Whatever it was, it was working. You couldn’t tear your gaze off him.

The announcer proclaimed the last 30 seconds of the round. It was then Ghost landed a big punch, sending his unsuspecting opponent staggering. It was his chance for another, and another, until he straddled the poor lad, barely able to block the blows anymore. Ghost had this look in his eyes, completely locked in, like he only saw one thing.

It was clear who was going to come up on top. You snapped out of it and made your way to the bathroom. You couldn’t hold it anymore. You took the furthest stall, your heels clicked along the sparkling marble floor, past the velvet love seat by the entrance.

You didn’t want to. You cursed yourself as the thought crossed your mind. It was vile. Deranged. But as you sat down and closed your eyes to regulate your breathing, your thighs rubbed together against your will. You shouldn’t feel this way looking at a stranger demonstrating his power, even one with a massive and gorgeous body.

The crowd outside boomed, and it was now or never. You had to do something before people started piling in.

Just a little touch.

You hiked your skirt up, palming your soaked panties. You pressed on your mound, your head tipping back at the pleasure. You let out a shaky exhale, unable to stop yourself from pushing the fabric aside and circling your clit with a finger. Your breath hitched, hips jerking up towards your own touch.

It was then the door busted open. You gasped, heart hammering in your chest. The click of the lock turning echoed in the bathroom.

“Come out, little bird,” a man said, his voice a deep rumble.

Your thighs shut as footsteps approached, coming closer and closer before they stopped right outside your stall.

Chills ran down your spine. You knew no one else here. Did you unknowingly send a signal, some sort of secret code? Private societies often had covert symbols to identify each other.

“I know you’re in there. I don’t bite,” he said, and added in a low voice. “Unless you want me to.”

Heat rose up your neck. You stumbled to your feet and smoothed your dress down. It was humiliating, getting caught wet handed. You inhaled before cracking the door open, eyes on the floor, meaning to squeeze past and avoid the situation with the unknown man.

But nothing prepared you for what awaited. Ghost towered over you, his broad chest still slick with sweat, still in his shorts that hung even lower now as it strained against his growing situation. The light material didn’t leave much to the imagination. His gloves were off, but his hand wraps remained.

You froze, transfixed on the way he palmed himself.

He took a step back. “Door’s right there. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

You let another beat pass. You could have sworn you saw a smirk under that mask.

“Get on your knees.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.

“Is this what you wanted?” he rasped, pushing the waistband of his shorts and underwear down, freeing his hardening cock in your face. “Don’t be shy now, you were just having fun all on your own. Don’t let me stop you.”

Tentatively, you took his cock, warm and heavy in your hand. You gripped him, pumping lightly as you planted little kissed on his tip. He hardened more as you kissed down the side of his length, pressing your nose against the trimmed hair on the base of his pulsing cock. His musk sent a jolt straight down to your core.

You pressed your other hand flat against his muscular thigh, your tongue swiped over his tip, tonguing him. He let out a deep sigh. You looked up to meet his brown eyes boring down on you.

You opened your mouth, sliding him along your hot, wet tongue, still holding his gaze. His cock twitched in your mouth as he let out a low groan. You could never fit the entirety of him in your mouth, but you were going to try anyway. Your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed as you slid down his thick shaft. His breathing grew laboured as his hips bucked. You continued to pump him, your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, grazing the ridge of his tip every time you slid up.

Ghost’s tangled his hands in your hair as his hips jerked, but he held himself back with a stuttered breath. Thinking of him fucking your face made you whimper.

You reached down to your leaking hole, pushing your panties aside. You circled your clit, impossibly slick from the torture you endured. The contact made you hum in pleasure, making his grip tighten on your hair as he hissed.

You couldn’t help but hump your own fingers. Lost in the pleasure, your pace faltered on his cock as you moaned around him.

You let out a weak whimper when he pulled out. Your eyes fluttered open, and he pulled you up to your feet to wipe the corners of your mouth with his thumb. He undressed himself before sweeping you up in a princess carry. You let out a squeal as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He set you down in front of the loveseat, where he plopped himself down. He leaned back, muscled thighs spread as he stroked his soaking wet cock languidly. Like a predator waiting for his unwitting prey to fall into his trap.

“You want to come on my cock?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, climbing over him.

Ghost helped you out of your dress and bra, eyes lingering a moment on your tits.

“The heels stay on,” he said, running his paws down your sides before settling on your hips, his hand wraps rough on your skin. “Set the pace, luv.”

A hand on his hard shoulder, you pulled your panties aside and lined him up with your entrance before lowering yourself. He tipped his head back, intense eyes trained on your face made you bite your lip. You were so painfully ready for him, your dripping hole didn’t put up much a fight despite his size. The initial breach made you gasp, your eyes shut close. You sank further down, bouncing a little each time, coating his already slick cock with your juices.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, aren’t you, doll?”

You nodded, still dizzy with the sensation of being stretched wide around him.

“Naughty girl, what got you so excited?”

The sentence that started with amusement ended with a shudder as you swallowed him down to his base. You panted, your pebbled clit grinding against his soft curls as your eyes flew open.

Up close, the faint dusting of freckles on his collarbones were visible. You ran your fingers along them as you took your time sliding up and down his throbbing cock, getting used to him. Your hands trailed to his bulging biceps, trying to not make it obvious you were feeling him up.

He peeled his mask up, bunching it over his nose. “Call me Simon,” he growled, kneading your ass.

On his cheek was a fading scar that disappeared up into his mask, while his jaw was lined with blonde, trimmed stubble.

“S- Simon.” You met his piercing brown eyes as your fingers traced his soft lower lip.

“Good girl.” He grasped your jaw and leaned in, speaking against your lips as they parted. “Scream it when you come on this cock.”

You picked up your pace, exposing your neck to him as you moaned. Simon planted open mouthed kissed up your neck before licking up your throat. He inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Tell me your name,” he said, his breath hot against your neck.

You might be on him, but you’d be a fool to think you had the authority here.

You babbled your name and he moved his hand to wrap around the base of your neck. He leaned in, repeating it, tasting it on his tongue before capturing your lips.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle. He took his time with your lower hip, giving it small bites before swiping his tongue across it. You were the first to part your lips, moaning into his mouth. It only spurred him on, his tongue meeting yours as he deepened the kiss.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You were made for me, weren’t you?” He panted, his thumb caressed your hip. “Come on my cock, doll.”

Simon gathered your hands behind your back and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush against his firm body. His thighs parted further before he thrusted up, the move knocking the breath out of you.

You threw your head back, the feeling of him ramming your soaking pussy made you heady. His balls, now drenched in your juices, squelched against your ass at every thrust. The familiar heat pooled in your belly as the mewls continued to pour out of you. He was hitting all the right spots.

“Simon- you’re going to make me come,” you said breathlessly.

He bit and sucked on your shoulder, hard enough for it to sting, and you knew it was going to leave a mark. It was enough to push you over the edge.

“Si- I’m coming, ah- Simon!”

You unravelled with a moan that you stifled by biting down on your lip. He let you ride your high, continuing his leisurely thrusts as the tension in your body subsided. You slumped over him as you caught your breath.

“Did a good job for me,” he muttered. He angled you by the chin, kissing your neck for a moment longer before cradling the back of your head.

In a swift motion, he laid you down on the loveseat. You watched as he pushed your shaky legs open, making room for himself to climb over you. His kisses trailed from your collarbones down your sternum. Still buzzing from your orgasm, your back arched as his tongue grazed over your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled between kisses as he made his way to your hips.

Simon gave them a few gentle sucks before his mouth descended to your pussy. He planted kisses on your mound, inhaling your scent. He licked a strip up your slit before laving at your entrance, teasing, coating his tongue in your juices. When he pursed his lips over your clit, it sent a zap up your spine making your thighs close over his head.

“Simon-“

“Let me eat,” he grumbled, easily holding your legs down for him to feast.

His tongue continued to dance on your clit, still achingly sensitive, but your hips couldn’t help but buck up into him as you continued to leak. He let out a soft laugh and you let out a broken moan from the vibration.

You raised your head, eyes meeting his as he watched you through his pretty, blond lashes. His deep brown eyes glinted this time, like he was having too much fun tormenting you.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he said, planting one last kiss on your clit.

He positioned himself between your thighs, a knee on the couch and a foot on the floor. He slid himself along your slit, painfully slow, but the friction was enough to make your breath stutter.

“You still owe me another one.”

He undid his hand wrap with his teeth, using it to bind your wrist and pushed them above your head. He curled your fingers over the armrest of the loveseat. He sank down on you, his forearm flexing by your head. He brought the tip of his cock to your opening, nudging it playfully as he glazed himself in your arousal.

“Ready, luv?” he rasped into your ear.

“Need you, Simon,” you whined, lifting your hips to him.

He pushed forward, letting out a low groan as he entered you. His hand moved to your hip, pinning you down to the seat. It only took him a few pumps to bottom out in you.

“Love it when you say my name,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them in another gentle kiss.

His thrusts quickened, mouth moving over to the side of your head. You held onto the armrest above you as his hot breath puffed over your ear, heavy as he groaned and panted. Each plunge coaxed a soft whine out of you, pushing you closer and closer to your release. He seemed to feel you clenching on him because he straightened up before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, making you gasp.

“Give me another one, luv,” he breathed, his half-lidded eyes trained on you. “No need to be quiet.”

He swiped up and down over your pulsing clit, the pace of his hips unrelenting. Small whimpers spilt out of you before you came undone with a moan, your body shook as your face twisted in pleasure. The pretty face he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from.

It was all he needed to chase his own high as he leaned back in, driving mercilessly into you. You thought you felt the loveseat skidding on the floor as he threaded his fingers with yours, still wet from making you come.

Simon pressed his forehead against yours as his eyes bored down on yours. He closed his mouth over yours, groaning into you.

“Come for me, Simon,” you said against his lips. “Want your come on me.”

His hips stuttered, whimpers tumbling out of his parted lips. He pulled out with a low moan, spilling on you before continuing to softly hump your belly to ride out his high.

He collapsed, squashing one side of your body under his weight. He nuzzled your neck, as his chest stopped heaving.

“You’re crushing me.”

He let out a small laugh, pushing himself off you and untying your wrists, his shoulders and neck still flushed. He took you by the hand to the sink to help you clean up and get dressed before minding himself.

You stood there facing each other wordlessly for a moment, unsure where to look. You didn’t want to be caught ogling him even when you were dying to, but your eyes cut to him when he pulled his mask off. You took his face in: his pale skin, his nose with the little bump on it, the way the cut on his cheek ran up next to his left eye.

Simon took a step towards you, pushing you against the sink and lifting you up to sit on its edge before giving you a chase kiss.

“Sorry about this,” he pressed his lips against the small bruise on your shoulder and the inside of your left wrist. “Would you come watch me again next week?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you want me to,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let’s get dinner.” He kissed your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I’ll drive you home after.”

Neighbour Simon if he still had his family Ghost gave you a piggyback ride Ghost's online fantasies came true Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @astraluminaaa

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 42. putting your satisfaction first

(wc: 2.820.. yeah.. have fun..)

donghyuck stood in front of your door for what felt like eternity, fist tightly held next to his body, contemplating his actions. hesitance had overtaken him again, and he was stood questioning the purpose of this trip in the first place. what was he even going to ask you? why did his mind seek after answers from you to questions he himself didn’t even know yet? haechan wasn’t all too sure about the answers to those inquiries himself, all he knew was that his heart was racing at a pace that felt abnormal, and you had no clue.

“just ask her if.. this is so stupid.” donghyuck groaned under his breath, feet shuffling backwards for a moment. gnawing at the inside of his lips, donghyuck took the hesitant step back forward before pushing through and lifting his hand up in a swift motion, knocking a few times before retracting his hand. his heart continued to race as he awaited any sort of commotion from inside your apartment.

you hadn’t expected the somewhat urgent knocks on your door. it caught your attention, multiple scenarios coursing through your head as you reluctantly made your way to the door. there were plenty of people you had expected at your front door, though none of them were donghyuck for whatever reason. it took you by surprise, the shock evident on your face as you locked eyes with donghyuck who seemed just as surprised to see you.

before donghyuck could mutter any words out, you closed the door. you couldn’t deal with this, at least not now. seeing his face had brought a turmoil upon you, the many emotions and realisations you had experienced over the past few days feeling much more raw and real. you don’t think you could bear to see donghyuck, not now. you closed the door, or you tried to.

donghyuck’s foot got caught in between the door, preventing you from closing it in his face. he winced a little, and the force at which you closed the door faltered for a moment which was enough for him to pull it open again. “can i come inside?” the words left his mouth the moment you two faced each other again. “um..” you gaped, unable to answer his request.

“it will be quick, i swear.” donghyuck added, lightly pulling the door open again. you held onto the handle yourself, contemplating whether to push it back close or not. but curiosity got the best of you and you slowly stepped aside, allowing donghyuck access to your place. his face morphed into an expression of surprise, not expecting you to let him in.

he stepped into your apartment, taking a look around while you carefully eyed his every step. “what do you want?” your words came out harsher than you intended for them to be and donghyuck picked up on the sudden hostility, turning around with his hands in the pockets of the hoodie he wore. “can we sit down somewhere?” donghyuck requested, taking steps towards the sofa in your living room. “you said it was quick.. stop wasting my time donghyuck.” you retorted, and this time your words were meant to be harsh. despite your clear annoyance, donghyuck remained seemingly calm as he seated himself on your sofa and stared up at you, waiting for you.

reluctantly, you sat yourself down next to him, not sparing him a single glance and instead choosing to stare ahead, even when you felt his eyes burning holes into your skull. donghyuck sighed, deciding to copy your antics and stare ahead too. “you’re ignoring me on purpose, aren’t you?” he asked through the silence, and despite hearing him loud and clearly, you remained silent, not wanting to answer the dreadful question.

your silence was enough of an answer though, and donghyuck sighed once again. “what have i done this time?” he questioned, voice faltering to a smaller mutter that almost seemed to be addressing himself rather than you. “don’t worry.” you answered after a minute of silence.

“but i do, because you’re ignoring me.” donghyuck groaned, turning his head to face you for a moment. “that’s not even why i’m here.” his head turned to face you again, though this time it remained there for an uncomfortably long time and it didn’t take you long to realise he wasn’t planning on looking away. “yeah? what was it you wanted to talk about that was so quick?” you reminded him, refusing to meet his gaze that was starting to feel intense.

“we need to talk about us.” you’re sure he must’ve noticed the way your eyes widened. “what are you talking about?” you subconsciously shuffled your body away from his, pushing yourself into the corner of your sofa. donghyuck slightly frowned before a soft exhale left his lips. “i’m talking about this weird tension that has been going on between us.” he corrected himself, thought the correction did nothing to soothe your tense body.

“what do you mean.” you mumbled loud enough for him to hear. “i know you’ve noticed it too.. i just…” your hands started to tingle from the sudden confrontation of everything you had been avoiding for the past days. was the universe punishing for something you did? was this your karma for fooling with donghyuck in the first place? “i just wanna know if that tension means anything to you.” it wasn’t the route you expected him to go with his sentence, and your eyes gravitated towards his, wanting to see the expression he carried. was this perhaps a joke?

he wore a look of doubt and slight unease as he finished his words. truthfully, you couldn’t tell his intentions. “i.. don’t feel a tension, but does this tension mean anything to you?” you resorted to playing coy, unsure of what your true answer might lead to. “i don’t know.” he sighed again with a rub to his face. “so why are you here?” you asked, the emptiness in your stomach not having subdued while your fingers drummed against your leg, a sign of the unease you were experiencing.

donghyuck noticed your uncomfortable fidgeting. “just relax, i’m not gonna do anything. i just needed to talk” he reassured with a soft voice, and for whatever reason, your body seemed to calm a little. “about what?” you hummed back in response, and it almost seemed like donghyuck didn’t know the answer himself as he silently pondered. “you know how i’m.. like scared of commitment, right?” he started off, and whatever dread had left you from his words, returned at the new set of words he spoke out.

“yeah, i’m aware.” you responded shortly, hoping he’d leave it at that. “are you scared of commitment?” donghyuck asked with his voice nothing but soft and almost fragile. it was as if he knew it was a risky question to ask. you huffed through your nose, once again contemplating your words for the night.

“instead of being scared, i just never thought i’d be able to commit to someone.” you admitted, the deep breaths you took helping you ease into your sofa, and for a moment you forgot that donghyuck was even there. “i understand that.” he assured you, and the response left you with a weird warmth. “you sound like you’re not anymore?”

“i still am.” haechan revealed. “i’m very scared that whoever i like won’t like me for who i really am” he added on, and you couldn’t help but frown as you continued to look ahead. “you know.. i’m scared of disappointing them by not being what they expected me to be. that they’ll be disappointed they’re dating donghyuck instead of haechan, you know?” his voice was a mere whisper, scared that if he got any louder he’d become too emotional.

and you screw yourself for being so emotional, let alone emphatic because you sighed, finally deciding to turn his way. you tried to meet his gaze that had lifted up once seeing your head turn, but couldn’t keep the eye contact, because you’re sure your emotions would’ve lead you to different scenarios if you stared into his eyes.

“in my opinion, donghyuck and haechan.. both of them, bring different attributes to the table and i think someone would be weird to not be intrigued by both.” you looked down at your lap as you spoke, attempting to make your words come out confidently. “also, it shouldn’t matter who they think they’re dating because at the end of the day, haechan is donghyuck and donghyuck is haechan.” you added on after a moment of silence. the silence that followed made you grow tenser, and you wondered why he hadn’t uttered a word yet.

you were starting to regret your words. hell. you regretted letting him into your apartment in the first place. over time, the smell of his shampoo had reached your nose, drowning you in the familiar sweet vanilla scent that you had grown attached to. it heightened all your emotions and reminded you of the predicament you were currently in. you liked donghyuck, and you felt like the worst person ever.

“that really means a lot, (—). thank you.” his voice broke the internal battle you were stuck in. your head snapped up, and you had only taken notice now of the fact he had shuffled closer towards you, essentially closing you into the corner of your sofa. “even though you said you can’t commit to one person, i’m sure whoever you will end up with, will be lucky to have someone like you.” he carried a fond smile, and you’re convinced you’ve seen that look before.

you wish he didn’t look at you the way he did right now, because it made the internal conflict of yours much worse as you realised you could almost mistake the look on his face of one you’d assume to be of love. or maybe, you just hoped that the way donghyuck looked at you was what a loving gaze felt like. his words hit much closer this time as you came to the devastating realisation that you wanted donghyuck to be the one lucky to have you.

“your hair has started to grow.” you changed the topic, afraid of what your mouth might have said regarding his thoughts. “it suits you.” your words were sincere as your eyes zoned in on his hair that had reached up to the nape of his neck. “might keep it for longer then.” he chuckled, lightly ruffling it and you lazily rolled your eyes. “i think black hair would look nice on you.” you suggested, hand shooting out to touch his hair too before you came back to your senses, yanking your hand back.

“i’ll keep that into consideration.” donghyuck’s gaze followed the hand that had reached up, focus remaining for some time. you cleared your throat, catching his attention as his head snapped up “you should probably leave.. it’s getting late.” you advised him. realisation dawned upon him before he rubbing the back of his neck in awkwardness. “oh, yeah, my bad.” he apologised before standing up and stretching his arms. you had to avert your eyes as his hoodie rode up for a split moment, revealing the tiniest bit of his skin.

with your head held low from the sudden embarrassment, you followed him to the door for whatever reason. a part of you couldn’t wait for him to leave so you could breathe normally again, while another part, the one too fond of him, wanted to keep him here for longer, just enjoying the time you had before your moral conscience kicked in and realised how wrong this was.

your hand reached up for the door handle, ready to open it but donghyuck’s own hand clasped over the wrist of your free hand, slightly tugging you back to gain your attention. you tilted your head back, awaiting his next action. “this might be weird for me to say.. but i seriously hope that no matter what happens between us, you won’t drop me out your life.”

you felt sick. you felt like you were getting punished. you felt your body warm up and your stomach swirl with a warmth. it was all unfair to you, the way he could casually say stuff like this with no worry about anything while your moral conscience battled to justify these small moments. you swallowed the lump in your throat, body melting into his touch on its own. “that’s so.. why?” you questioned. why would he put you through these dilemmas?

“i guess i enjoy your presence too much for you to drop me.” donghyuck wore a soft yet shy smile on his face as he himself couldn’t look you in the eye. you internally cooed at the sight, having to withhold yourself from wrapping your arms around him in affection. “as long as you’re nice to me, i’ll keep you around.” you decided that was the best way to convey your thoughts, and donghyuck seemed more than satisfied with your answer as a grin found its way to his lips and he looked you in the eyes. “that’s a deal.”

there was a strange glint in his eyes, one that almost resembled desire, and you were suddenly brought back to the night he was drunk. when he wanted to kiss you. “i really have the biggest urge to kiss you right now.” you’re sure those weren’t his exact words and you frowned your eye brows in thought as you tried to remember it. perhaps you were a little stupid, because it hadn’t dawned on you that the words had just left donghyuck until you looked back at him and he awaited an answer.

you were fucked, you were a bad friend, and you wanted to kiss donghyuck. it was wrong, everything about this was wrong, being so close to him felt wrong and letting him be vulnerable felt wrong. but you felt selfish, and your selfish thoughts encouraged you to put your own satisfactions first. donghyuck was ready to take a step back and apologise for his thoughts, but instead he got shut up with the impact at which you leaned forward with, kissing him.

it took donghyuck a few seconds to reciprocate, but his hand quickly found your jaw while his other hand reached for the side of your body, slotting itself there. the desire displayed in his eyes previously, showed through the eagerness at which he kissed you, tilting his head as his thumb caressed your jaw. your own hands found a place around his shoulders as you pulled him closer. you’re not sure when your back reached your door, but you couldn’t care much as your thoughts were occupied with nothing but donghyuck.

the way he kissed felt almost personal, as if his intentions weren’t based on a sudden lust, but instead a message. it made your heart ache, because while you kissed donghyuck, it felt like nothing but a bittersweet reminder that something closely in your reach wasn’t attainable to you.

on the contrary, donghyuck kissed you with the uncertainty about what the kiss meant and what it meant to you.

there was a lust that neither of you wanted to voice loudly, scared of the outcome and after 2 minutes, your moral conscience kicked in. you pushed donghyuck off you with a struggle and you hated the way he continued to chase after you, lips coming in contact with the sides of yours as you dodged him. “haechan, you need to leave.” you were out of breath and felt embarrassed about it. you hadn’t even noticed the warmth you emitted until now, or the way donghyuck was breathing just as heavily as you.

“we’re back to calling me haechan again?” he tried to chuckle through his breathing. “you should go.” you repeated, hand reaching behind you to grab ahold of the handle before opening it. you could feel your pulse in your throat, a suffocating feeling that was making you choke on the guilt you couldn’t swallow. you’re glad that donghyuck left on his own as your trembling hands couldn’t bear coming in contact with him again.

“are you going to ignore me after this again?” the question stung a lot. it stung because you felt horrible that it was his immediate conclusion. it stung because it was exactly what you were planning on doing. it stung, because donghyuck could never understand how much the aftermath of this was going to mess with you.

“are you going to pretend like this means nothing to you again?” you asked in the heat of the moment, body tensing up. your head was held low, and you realised how hard it had been to even make eye contact with him ever since he arrived. the realisation ached your heart again, it was a realisation that you’d never return to how it used to be.

donghyuck didn’t have the chance to utter a response out or even question you, because you had closed the door in his face, leaving you both with a confused, yet warm feeling.

previous — master list — next

notes ; gonna let this one marinate for 2 weeks and be back bye y’all 😅🫰🏽❤️ also sorry if there are any spelling errors i proofread this ones and said that will be enough..

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[miumura]

𖦹 ──── NI-KI AS YOUR ENEMY ! ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆

( 엔하이픈 니키 ) ﹕ what it's like having ni-ki as your enemy

𝓹airing enemy!riki x gn!reader ⟡ 𝓰enre high school au ∿ academic rivals ∿ slight angst ∿ fluff-ish ⟡ 𝔀arnings ni-ki is a little mean ꕀ mentions of crying ꕀ ⟡ 𝔀ord count 1K+ ( 1011 )

𝓼oph’s 𝓷otes thank you so much for requesting — i’m truly sorry for the super long wait !! i really wanted to get back to my requests after putting them off for a while TT this is slightly different format from how i usually write hc requests, but i still do hope you enjoy it regardless !! ⟡

ENEMY NI-KI who started this unnecessary "beef" with you way back in elementary school for reasons you barely remembered—something about what little riki had told you. and even so, with his ongoing nasty behavior—as you would've liked to describe it—you decided to keep him firmly in the enemy category, feeding the rivalry as much as he did.

ENEMY NI-KI who simply refused to leave you alone, seemed to thrive on getting under your skin. nothing brought him more satisfaction than watching your lips curl down into a frown, knowing he had successfully pushed your buttons once again.

ENEMY NI-KI who couldn’t hide his annoyance every time you outdid him—which, to his frustration, you always seemed to manage. you never gave him a moment to savor his accomplishments, always securing that one spot above him. though both of you claimed it didn’t matter, it soon became a competition—each of you secretly determined to prove who could do better.

ENEMY NI-KI who never failed to shoot you a mean glare whenever you rolled your eyes and scoffed, only to find himself unconsciously mirroring your reaction.

ENEMY NI-KI who can't resist messing with your things—scribbling in your notebook or knocking your items off the table whenever your attention drifts elsewhere. every time he’s forced to sit next to you, he makes it his mission to push you away, hoping you’ll move seats. but, with nothing more than a few mumbled curses, you always brush it off, which only fuels his determination to see how much you could take before snapping.

ENEMY NI-KI who throws an exaggerated fit when the teacher pairs you together for a project, all because you happened to be sitting next to him—like he couldn’t have just moved to avoid it. as much as you hated the situation, you could at least tolerate it… unlike him, who just couldn't suck it up.

ENEMY NI-KI who was just annoying enough that you drew an invisible line between the shared space, instantly sparking a back-and-forth about rules and boundaries—just to get through the project without biting each other’s heads off. and as much as ni-ki would've liked to ignore it all, you strangely complied with the ridiculous rules he made up on the spot, forcing him to stick to them too.

ENEMY NI-KI who despite his reluctance, the hours spent in your company left him noticing the little habits you had—details that irritated him at first but somehow became things he couldn’t help but pay attention to.

ENEMY NI-KI who let a small smile slip when he saw how happy you were over the perfect score on your assignment together—something he quickly caught himself doing. His expression hardened almost immediately, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. Smiling because of you? It was just a moment of weakness, he told himself. Nothing more.

ENEMY NI-KI who finally managed to push you past your breaking point, leaving you so frustrated that all you could do was cry in anger. he stood there, completely caught off guard by your reaction, as if he hadn’t realized just how much his usual snide remarks had escalated—this time sharper, more aggressive, and far meaner than before. for once, he found himself speechless, unsure how to handle the mess he’d unintentionally created.

ENEMY NI-KI who couldn’t help but panic when you were absent for several days in a row, his mind immediately jumping to the worst conclusion—that it was his fault. the guilt gnawed at him, and before he knew it, he was awkwardly approaching your friends, asking where you were. his excuse? the teachers had asked him to check in since you were his seatmate, of course. but deep down, he knew that wasn’t the full truth. even so…it was normal for him to feel worried about you, right?

ENEMY NI-KI who felt an immense weight lift off his shoulders the moment he saw you walk into the classroom again. you quietly took your seat beside him without a word, and even though you were still avoiding eye contact, the relief washed over him. he eventually found out you had just been sick, but for some reason, he felt the urge to make up for all the snide comments and teasing. it was as if your absence had made him realize he wasn’t quite as indifferent as he pretended to be.

ENEMY NI-KI who suddenly toned down his usual insults, leaving you suspicious. while he still said a thing or two, it wasn’t with the same edge as before, making you question whether something had changed. truthfully, ni-ki didn’t want to hurt you like he had before. though he hated the thought of apologizing, this was his small, reluctant way of trying to make things right, even if it was just a quarter of an effort to make amends.

ENEMY NI-KI who becomes overly cautious around you, claiming it’s just to avoid your fuss from last time. but despite his supposed indifference, he starts noticing the little things you do. to his surprise, he catches himself mimicking those same things around his own friends, realizing that maybe you’ve gotten under his skin more than he thought.

ENEMY NI-KI who accidentally let slip a comment about noticing something new about your appearance, only to quickly backtrack and cover it up by saying it looked odd on you. even though he tried to hide it, his words betrayed his real thoughts, leaving you both a little flustered by the interaction.

ENEMY NI-KI who finally, genuinely but awkwardly, apologized to you during another forced group assignment. the timing was far from ideal, but the sincerity in his voice was undeniable. when you managed to accept his apology—whether you truly meant it or just wanted to focus on the task at hand—he felt an odd sense of relief.

ENEMY NI-KI who after seeing you smile, a rare sight for him, stirred something strange yet calming within him. for once, as you both worked together, there was a brief moment of peace between the two of you, and that weird feeling lingered inside him longer than he expected.

💬 : is this the start of me writing enemy!enha more often 🧐 spoiler alert — enemy!sunghoon has also been requested, so expect some time soon 🤭 if you want another member … or a specific dynamic … drop by in my inbox 👀

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[strnilolover]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .˚ Does He Know? ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .˚

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

♫ Moth To Flame • Swedish House Mafia & The Weeknd

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♡ Toxic!OffandOn!Matt x Unloyal!Fem!Reader

♡ Warnings : Cheating (don’t do that), getting caught cheating, slight smut, degrading if you squint, pet names (sweetheart, bunny), random boyfriend name (Adam), toxic relationship, I think that’s all?

♡ Wc : 795

♡ A/N : something about this just makes me so 🤭. Don’t cheat on your partners though, this is just a fanfic. You keep running back to Matt because you just can’t let go of him, he’s where your heart truly lies.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

Matt was never one for relationships, only ever having hookups or one night stands with multiple girls. You being included in the mixup. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew you were looking for someone to spend the rest of your life with. The look that appeared in your eyes anytime you looked at him, told him everything he needed to know.

So he knew that eventually you would move on from him, finding a new boy to love you and satisfy all your needs. Adam — the sweet guy you had met during a time you and Matt hadn’t been speaking, Matt turning you down after another attempt to confess your love for him.

All you ever were to Matt was just a good fuck really — so why was he so jealous that you found a different guy other than him to be with? He didn’t care, he shouldn’t. But he does.

You were always so easy though. Anytime you saw him in public, he knew what he did to you. Reeling you back in so easily when your relationship was fresh, having your body trembling beneath his. All while your poor Adam didn’t have a clue.

You cut him off one day though, telling him enough was enough. That you loved Adam and weren’t going to throw the relationship away, just because he wanted to fuck you. So — he let you be, knowing how much of a good guy Adam was…all the things he heard through your friends.

But, after a few months of not speaking, you called him one night. Matt answered of course — he could never decline a call from you. “Matt…I miss you.” Was what your voice had said through the speaker, the words sending a rush of satisfaction down his spine.

After that one night, you kept calling — every night when Adam would go to bed. You would sneak into the guest room on the other side of the house, pulling out your phone to call Matt. You knew it was wrong, so wrong on so many levels. How could you cheat on a person who you knew loved you? It didn’t seem to bother you much though — hiding the pictures on your phone that Matt would send, Or the videos he would record when he was plowing into you.

Adam still didn’t know — didn’t see how your behavior changed over time. How your phone seemed to be more important, he was so naive that is actually hurt you a little to think of what you were doing. But again… you didn’t really care.

It seemed as though your connection with Adam was severing the more you kept Matt in your life, but you still didn’t care. It felt like Matt was the only person to ever understand you, the only person to know why you cried. You knew he wasn’t any good for you, so why did you keep going back for more?

Matt knew you were slowly coming back to him — to only him. The longer he talked to you, the more frequent late night visits from him became. Sneaking into your home while Adam was asleep just down the hall, burying himself into your warm walls like you were made for him.

And he always brought you down for it, made fun of you. “What would your poor Adam say if he saw you right now bunny, hm?” He would whisper into your ear as his cock hit repeatedly into you, his hand holding your neck, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“He wouldn’t appreciate the fact you’re letting me use your mouth like this right?” He’d taunt as he’d have you on your knees in front of him, mouth stuffed full. And all you could do was shake your head every-time, knowing how much of a bad person you were.

That was until one night, right after you and Matt finished — literally — cuddling in his arms in your guest bedroom.

The door had slammed open, Adam standing right there in the door way with a sick look on his face. His features turning up in disgust and disbelief as you scrambled to pull the covers up over yourself. “Is this what you’ve been doing every night?! Sneaking behind my back to fuck him?!” He had yelled at you, and all Matt could do was smirk.

He leaned down to your ear, making sure to speak loud enough where Adam could hear, keeping eye contact with the man. “Go ahead sweetheart, tell him the truth. Tell him where your heart lies — where it truly lies.” He mumbled, watching as your face flushed red, your lips parting.

Matt knew he had you wrapped around his finger. You were his, and he wasn’t going to let you go now.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

© Strnilolover

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

♡ A/N : you know I really should learn to not write a whole bunch LOL. I kinda fw this honestly… it’s not the best but I couldn’t not write abt toxic!OffandOn!Matt cause he’s so scrumptious. Again please don’t cheat on your partner, that’s never a good thing to do. Let me know if you guys like this?

[novaursa]

I have a request for Criston Cole: Rhaenyra's daughter is captured by the Greens and is taken as a hostage in King's Landing. Aegon II, aware of Criston Cole's disdain and hatred towards Rhaenyra, decides to reward his loyal Hand by gifting him Rhaenyra's daughter to do whatever he wants with. You can decide what happens next.

His to Command

- Summary: After you were captured, Aegon gives you to his new Hand to be a broken prize for your mother’s past sins.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Criston Cole

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The iron chains dig into your wrists as Aemond drags you through the Great Hall of the Red Keep. Each step echoes like a drumbeat against the stone floor, your legs barely finding strength beneath you. The pain from your bruised and battered body is a constant, throbbing presence, but you refuse to show weakness. You keep your head high, even though your long silver hair, matted with blood and dirt, falls into your eyes. Aemond’s grip is unrelenting, his fingers biting into your arm, and you can feel the satisfaction radiating from him as he forces you forward.

The hall is filled with courtiers and knights, their eyes fixed on you with a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. Whispers ripple through the crowd, some murmuring your name, others mocking your downfall. The very walls seem to close in around you, suffocating, as if the castle itself is rejoicing in your humiliation.

At the end of the hall, seated on the Iron Throne, is your uncle, Aegon II. His eyes gleam with cruel delight as he watches you being brought before him. He leans forward, the corners of his lips twisting into a mocking smile. The throne room feels colder than usual, the weight of betrayal hanging in the air like a thick fog.

“Rhaenyra’s precious daughter, delivered to me on a silver platter,” Aegon muses, his voice dripping with amusement. “What a fitting end for the blood of a traitor.”

You meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to let him see the fear lurking beneath your skin. “Is this how you gain your victories, uncle? By dragging women in chains before you?” you spit, the words laced with venom despite your exhaustion.

Aegon chuckles, leaning back against the jagged metal of the throne. “You have your mother’s fire, I’ll give you that. But fire can be tamed, just as dragons can be slain.”

He gestures casually, as if dismissing your defiance as nothing more than a child’s tantrum. “I could have you executed for your treason, for your mother’s crimes,” he says, his eyes flicking over you with cruel intent. “But where is the sport in that?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a sickening dread coiling in your stomach as you see where his gaze lands next. He turns his head slightly, a twisted smile forming on his lips. “Ser Criston.”

From the shadows beside the throne, Ser Criston Cole steps forward. His armor gleams under the torchlight, his expression as unreadable as a stone. He looks at you, his dark eyes flickering with something you cannot quite place—resentment, anger, and something else far more dangerous.

“Yes, Your Grace?” His voice is calm, controlled, as if he were merely accepting a new charge, not being handed a captive to do with as he pleases.

Aegon’s smile widens. “You have served me faithfully, Ser Criston, even when others doubted me. You have been my shield, my sword, my Hand. And now, I gift you this… prize. My niece, Y/N Velaryon, to do with as you see fit.”

A murmur ripples through the hall, shock and intrigue flickering across the faces of the gathered lords and ladies. Your blood runs cold. This cannot be happening.

You tear your gaze from Criston, looking back at Aegon. “You cannot do this,” you hiss, the desperation seeping into your voice despite yourself. “I am a princess of the realm, not a plaything for your lackeys.”

Aegon laughs, a cold, mirthless sound that echoes off the stone walls. “You are whatever I say you are,” he replies, leaning forward once more, his eyes boring into yours with malevolent glee. “And Ser Criston has earned his reward.”

Criston’s eyes remain fixed on you, his expression unreadable, his body still as a statue. For a moment, you think you see something flicker in his gaze—hesitation, doubt—but then it is gone, replaced by a hard, unyielding resolve.

“Your Grace is most generous,” Criston says, his voice steady, though there is a tension in his jaw that betrays him. “I will… handle the matter as you wish.”

The words hang in the air, a promise and a threat all at once. Your heart sinks, a numbness spreading through you. This is not how it was supposed to end. Not like this.

Aegon waves a hand dismissively, already losing interest. “Take her away, Ser Criston. I do not wish to see her face again until she knows her place.”

Criston nods, stepping forward to grasp your arm. His grip is firm, but not cruel. He leads you from the hall, the eyes of the court burning into your back as you are dragged from the throne room, your chains rattling with each step.

The corridors blur around you as Criston pulls you along, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. You stumble, your body protesting with every movement, but you force yourself to keep up, refusing to be dragged like a helpless child.

He takes you to a chamber deep within the Keep, a room cold and dark, the only light coming from a single brazier in the corner. The door slams shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the small space.

For a long moment, Criston says nothing, his back to you as he stands by the door. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. Then, finally, he turns to face you.

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time, you see something there that you did not expect—conflict, pain, anger. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in the bruises, the blood, the defiance still burning in your eyes.

“Why did you have to be like her?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost to himself. “So proud, so stubborn… so damned impossible.”

You stare at him, disbelief warring with anger. “Is that what this is?” you ask, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to control it. “Your revenge for being rejected? For being cast aside?”

Criston flinches as if struck, his expression hardening. “This is justice,” he snaps, though the words ring hollow even to your ears. “Justice for the lies, the betrayal… for everything she did to me.”

“And what of me?” you demand, your voice rising. “What have I done to you, Criston? What crime have I committed other than being born Rhaenyra’s daughter?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks as if he might strike you. But then he turns away, his shoulders hunched, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing. This man, who was once your mother’s closest confidant, who fought for her, loved her… and now, he stands before you, broken, filled with rage and bitterness. And you are the one who must bear the brunt of his pain.

“What will you do with me?” you ask quietly, the question heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Criston is silent for a long time, his back still turned to you. When he finally speaks, his voice is cold, distant.

“That depends on you, Y/N,” he says. “How much you fight… how much you resist. You can make this easy, or you can make it hard. But make no mistake—you are mine now. Your fate is in my hands.”

You feel the weight of his words like a physical blow, the finality of it settling over you like a shroud. This is your life now—captivity, submission, at the mercy of a man who once swore to protect your family.

And yet, as you look at him, you see something in his eyes that gives you pause. A flicker of something—doubt, regret, longing. Perhaps, even now, there is a part of him that remembers who he was, who you were.

Or perhaps it is just the final cruelty of your fate, to see hope where there is none.

The days blur together, each one dragging on longer than the last, filled with an exhausting monotony. Criston keeps you in the dark, literally and figuratively. The chamber he’s placed you in is small, bare, and cold. The walls are stone, the floor is stone, and the single brazier provides little warmth against the chill that seeps into your bones. The only light comes from the narrow window high above, through which you can see only a sliver of sky.

Criston comes and goes, always in the same unrelenting silence. He brings you food and water, nothing more than bread and broth, barely enough to sustain you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you for longer than necessary, his face a mask of iron. It’s as if he’s trying to distance himself, trying to keep the reality of what he’s doing at arm’s length. You can see the struggle in him, though he hides it well.

You, on the other hand, refuse to be broken. You maintain your pride, your dignity, even as your body grows weaker. You refuse to beg or plead, knowing that any sign of weakness will be seized upon, twisted into another weapon against you. Every time he enters the room, you meet his gaze, your chin lifted, your eyes defiant. You will not let him see how much this hurts you.

But the strain is taking its toll. You can feel it in the way your hands shake when you lift the spoon to your lips, in the way your head spins when you stand too quickly. You can feel it in the constant ache in your limbs, the gnawing hunger that never truly leaves you. And more than that, you feel it in the silence, in the oppressive, suffocating quiet that fills the room whenever Criston leaves.

It’s the isolation that’s the worst. The loneliness. The knowledge that you are completely, utterly alone. No one is coming for you. No one even knows where you are. Your family is shattered—your grandmother Rhaenys is gone, your brothers scattered or dead, your life ripped apart at the seams. And here you are, trapped in this cold, dark room, with only your captor for company.

And yet, even in this bleak place, you find small ways to rebel. You refuse to show him fear. You refuse to let him see how much this is breaking you. When he brings your meals, you look him in the eye and thank him, your voice calm, steady. When he orders you to do something—to stand, to sit, to walk across the room—you do it with your head held high, your movements precise and deliberate. You refuse to let him strip away your dignity, your sense of self. If he wants to break you, he will have to try much harder than this.

One day, after what feels like an eternity of this silent stalemate, Criston finally speaks. He enters the room as he always does, his expression blank, his eyes avoiding yours. But this time, instead of setting the tray of food down and leaving, he stays. He stands by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on some point above your head.

“Why do you do this?” His voice is low, rough, as if the words are being dragged out of him against his will. “Why do you fight me? It would be easier if you didn’t.”

You look at him, surprised by the question. For a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. Why do you fight? Because it’s all you have left. Because surrender is not an option. Because if you give up now, then you really are lost.

“Because I have no other choice,” you say finally, your voice steady despite the fear that coils in your stomach. “Because if I let you break me, then I am nothing. Then you’ve already won.”

He flinches, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “This isn’t a game, Y/N.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, holding his gaze. “But you seem to think it is.”

His eyes flash with something—anger, frustration, guilt? You can’t quite tell. He takes a step closer, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “You don’t understand,” he says, his voice low and fierce. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this.”

“Then let me go,” you say quietly, the words a challenge. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want to be Aegon’s lapdog, then let me go.”

For a moment, you think he might. His face softens, the hard lines of anger and bitterness easing. His hand uncurls, reaching out as if to touch you, to pull you closer. But then he shakes his head, his expression closing off once more.

“I can’t,” he says, the words heavy with regret. “I can’t.”

You take a step back, your heart pounding. “Why not?”

“Because he’ll kill you,” Criston says, his voice harsh, raw. “If you try to escape, if you fight him… he’ll kill you, Y/N. And I—” He breaks off, his gaze flicking away from yours, his jaw clenched tight.

“And you can’t bear that?” you ask, the bitterness in your voice surprising even you. “You can’t bear to see me die, but you’ll keep me here, trapped, broken, until there’s nothing left of me. Is that it?”

His eyes snap back to yours, blazing with an anger that isn’t entirely directed at you. “It’s better than the alternative.”

“Is it?” you whisper, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy and sharp.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns on his heel and leaves the room, the door slamming shut behind him. You’re left alone once more, the silence pressing down on you like a weight, your heart racing, your mind spinning.

And so it goes, day after day. Criston comes and goes, his presence a constant reminder of your captivity, his silence a weapon that cuts deeper than any blade. He speaks little, his words brief and clipped, his eyes never quite meeting yours. But you can see the struggle in him, the conflict that tears at him every time he looks at you. He hates you, hates what you represent, but there is something else there too, something darker, more dangerous.

He watches you, always watching, as if he’s trying to figure you out, trying to understand why you haven’t broken yet. He tests you, pushing you, trying to see how far he can go before you snap. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You meet his gaze with calm defiance, your words carefully chosen, your actions deliberate and controlled.

And slowly, ever so slowly, something begins to change. You see it in the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, in the way his voice loses its harsh edge when he speaks. You see it in the way his hands linger on yours when he brings you your food, in the way he hesitates before leaving the room, as if he doesn’t want to go.

It’s a dangerous game, this dance you’re both caught in. You don’t trust him, can’t trust him, not after everything he’s done. But you can’t ignore the way your heart quickens when he’s near, the way your body reacts to his presence despite your best efforts to control it.

And he, for all his bluster and bravado, can’t seem to stay away. He’s drawn to you, pulled in by something he can’t quite understand, can’t quite resist. He hates you, but he’s fascinated by you, by your strength, your defiance, your refusal to break.

It’s a twisted, dangerous bond, forged in pain and bitterness, but it’s there, undeniable, unbreakable. And you, trapped in this cold, dark room, with nothing but your captor for company, find yourself clinging to it, to him, even as you curse yourself for it.

Because in the end, he’s all you have now. And that, more than anything else, terrifies you.

[tusswrites]

Sold For A Soul (Teaser)

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x idol Female Reader (idol verse)

Genre: Strangers to Lovers

Word Count (teaser): 955

Warnings: Mentions of mistreatment, cheating (not between Y/N and Wonwoo) , ED, nothing in detail but brushed over implications of abuse, power play, self loathing reader (totally did not project), mentions of toxic family, a lot of angst before the rainbow

Master List is here

“PD-nim wants to see you in his office now.”

You freeze midstep. It’s not the first time Kim Hangyuck has asked you to come visit his office privately , but after your last stunt you’d reckon he’d have some shame before calling you in this quickly. Was what you did last time not enough for him?

“Unnie, this is exciting news. Do you think he called you over to give news about a comeback?” That was Chul, the maknae of your group, excitedly jumping in glee at the hopes of a prospective comeback. Poor innocent child . The plethora of information you held back from her to protect the youth she will otherwise not have.

Giving her an easy nod, you walk with trepidation to his office, a prayer in your heart and head held high. Men like him can smell fear from far away, eagerly stamping over it.

“Come in.”

You hadn’t even knocked. Which probably meant he was spying on you all this while.You’re not in the least surprised. Sounds just like him.

Upon entering you're greeted by one of your nightmares in human form seated behind a chair, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. For what reason. You hadn’t even taken two minutes to attend to his whims and calls. Not like you could.

With a condescending nod, he signaled you to come closer. Anxiety rose high but you pushed it back down, inching closer to his table. Every moment in his proximity kickstarted your fight or flight response.

He slides a photocard across the table and you glance down to see oh-

“Jeon Wonwoo” he slurs out.

You know. You’ve been trying hard to drive his image from your head after that unfortunate meetup backstage. The photocard across the table wasn’t helping much with that affirmation. Confusedly you turn back up to look at his leering gaze right on your cleavage. With as much discomfort as you could try to hide, you stand straight, never giving him that satisfaction again.

“Han Sung-Soo from Pledis called today. He asked for your number. Looks like someone here caught the eyes of a handsome young man.”His beady eyes glint at you expectantly as if he was passing the good news except you feel nothing of that sort.

“I don't’ understand -”

‘Well, you’re in luck, gorgeous- “ you wanted to gag. Nicknames from him reflexively brought out such reactions. -Wonwoo here says he hopes that you will go on a date with him.”

You don’t want to go on a date with Wonwoo. You have nothing against him but you also have nothing for him. Why waste time on another man that was sure to break your heart in more ways than one?

“I don’t-”

“Well lucky for you, I said yes”. You don’t have it in you to lose energy. This is typical of Kim Hangyuck. Making decisions in your personal life with no thoughts whatsoever to ask you. He leans back, looking shamelessly proud of himself.

“I thought we were not supposed to be in a relationship based on our contracts.”

“Is that why I caught you with your boyfriend the other day?”

You gulp. What?

“Don’t act so surprised gorgeous, remember what I told you? I have eyes everywhere. Everywhere.” A shiver of disgust coursed through your veins, any second longer with him, you were going to throw up in his face.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go on a date with him, lure him by your beauty, entice him enough to make him your boyfriend.” You could see the smug grin on his face like he was proud of his terrible idea.

You want to refuse but the consequences of defying an order run far deeper than you could possess to think right now.

“Why?”

‘Because gorgeous, we need funds. If you girls want the next comeback out soon, we need the publicity to attract fans to Blush Girls. This way, if we leak the news of your relationship to the press, a scandal breaks out and we gain something from this. Don’t forget this is someone from Hybe Labels. He’s high profile.”

“I thought he asked for my number because he liked me . If this is a romantic relationship, isn’t this breaching the contract of trust Hybe will endow upon me?”

He shrugged, least bothered about your emotions here. Obviously your thoughts don't matter.

‘I don’t care Y/N . Seduce him, get him in your bed, make him fall in love with you and get into a relationship with him. This is the only way ‘Blush Girls’ will get a breakthrough. Follow the plan or I will scrap your project. No comebacks, instant contract termination." Venom oozed out from his warning. He was every bit the cruel man to carry out that threat. You knew it. You couldn’t let down your members like this because your morale came in the way. You owed it to them at least.

“Fine. One date. But I get to choose the restaurant and I want Yoon to accompany me .”

“Nice try, gorgeous. We have already selected the restaurant for you. It’s on us. Victor will be accompanying you. We need to keep an eye out on you at all times.”

Victor was a pervert. During your trainee days you kept a knife under your pillow, for fear of that sleazy man. Unfortunately, the company refused your demands to fire him despite the multiple protests by artists. He was also Hangyuck’s right hand. His extra pair of ears and eyes. You knew exactly why he was accompanying you.

“Alright”. You agree. You have no choice after all.

Shaking hands with Kim Hangyuck on this deal feels like signing off your soul to the Devil.

A.N: Comment below to be added to the taglist

Taglist- @skzbangchanniee

[cesilly]

- temporary fix

hamzah x reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contains: established relationship, thigh riding

“no, that’s not right,” you mumble to yourself, shaking your head. “fuck, come on, i know this.”

you continue scribbling out jumbled definitions, equations, and practice problems all over the comedically large classroom-sized whiteboard that you impulsively purchased and brought home to study for your exams, which now sits in the living room of you and hamzah’s shared apartment.

speaking of, he’s watching you from the couch as your sanity slowly slips away. the stress of your upcoming exam in just a few hours is completely fucking with you.

college is exhausting.

“and this is my last marker,” you whisper as the ink from the whiteboard pen dwindles and becomes streaky, your handwriting becoming basically unintelligible now. “shit!” you grumble in defeat, tossing the marker over your shoulder.

“hey, watch where you throw that,” hamzah’s teasing voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see that he’s caught the marker you hurled at him. “could’ve poked my eye out.”

“sorry,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “i’m just, ugh, i’m gonna fail this.”

“no, you’re not.” hamzah shakes his head. “c’mere.”

you peek through your fingers to see your boyfriend waiting for you, legs spread, head tilted back against the wall behind the couch.

reluctantly, not wanting to be taken out of your little academic headspace, you walk over towards him. his fingers splay out over his own thigh, a small movement that you’re not sure how to interpret. he reaches out to you, grasping the fabric of your underwear and guiding you down onto his lap, your legs fitting together with his like puzzle pieces as you straddle one of his muscular thighs.

"my smart girl, working so hard, but she can't even put some pants on." he quips, hooking his finger into the side of your panties, then quickly letting go and snapping them back onto your skin.

you place your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. your brows are knitted together, a remnant of the constant stressed expression you’ve had for hours on end. even his carefree demeanor can't calm you down right now.

he reaches around you, sliding your hair tie off and letting your hair fall down your back. your scalp immediately feels lighter, the pressure lifted away immediately after having it twisted into a bun all day.

“just relax.” he murmurs.

“can’t.” you reply. “m’not prepared.”

“baby,” he laughs in disbelief. “you are. i’ve been watching you study the entire day. i don’t know how you couldn’t be ready." his fingers slip underneath your t-shirt, holding you firmly as he brushes his thumbs across your abdomen.

"everything's getting me frustrated," you say, leaning into him and allowing yourself to let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. the tips of his fingers trace delicate patterns across your lower back as you wrap your arms around his neck and place your head on his shoulder. "i'm worried i won't be able to focus."

"let me help, sweetheart." he whispers against the fabric of your shirt.

"how would you even- oh,"

he doesn't give any time for you to finish your question before he shifts his leg underneath you, the material of his shorts pressing against your thinly covered clit in the best way possible.

"please," he says, looking up at you, your face contorted with shock and pleasure from the fact that one simple movement made your brain go all fuzzy. "let me help you get out all that anger."

you meet his eyes, your lips parted. "hamzah, i dont have time."

"shh," he hushes you with another movement of his thigh, that same wave of satisfaction washing over you. "you do, baby. you have time. i'll take care of you."

his eyes are genuine, his words are honest. and the muscles in his thigh flexing under your core is so fucking tempting.

in a matter of seconds, you lose restraint and your lips are on his. you start rolling your hips back and forth across his leg, his hands pushing you down onto him, forcing more contact. the friction is downright euphoric, all your worries melting away.

"good girl, use it. get yourself off."

even the smallest hint of praise to leave his lips is enough to make you moan like crazy. your panties start to become absolutely soaked, and you know he can feel it too.

"hamzah," his name is the only word you can force out, and it sounds like a fucking prayer. your head tips back, your chest heaving as you buck your hips desperately.

he admires you as you come undone on top of him, his hands exploring under your shirt like he's mapping every inch of your body.

"s'fucking pretty." he holds the fabric out of the way, pressing a kiss to your ribcage just below your bra. "ride it, angel. wanna make you all better."

you grab fistfuls of his shirt, your pleasured cries growing louder and louder in his ear.

"yeah, baby, i know. let it out, beautiful." he smacks your ass. "fucking finish on me, dirty girl."

a stray tear slides down your cheek, not from frustration - from overwhelming relief as you inch closer to your breaking point.

hamzah notices your movements becoming erratic, your moans getting breathier.

grabbing your chin, he tilts your head down towards him and presses his thumb into your bottom lip. "look at me," he instructs. "wanna see that fuckin' face when you make a mess out of yourself."

"mmh," you hum. "feels so good, hamzah."

"yeah, sweetheart?" he tucks a few stray hairs behind your ear, his eyes carefully tracking all your movements as you lose control. "love watching you like this." he breathes out. "beautiful."

"mhm, mhm, i'm close," as a last act before you finally snap, you cling onto his curls and tug, earning a deep groan out of him. "fuck, fuck!"

your orgasm rips through your entire body, making you tremble and writhe on top of him, your warm release dripping out of you and soaking through your panties onto his shorts.

hamzah's jaw is dropped in utter disbelief, like he just got all the wind knocked out of him. "jesus christ," his pupils are blown up almost completely, making his eyes appear black.

you collapse onto his chest, shuddering and gasping as you try to control yourself. he rubs your back comfortingly, both of you seeming to be in a state of shock.

"you're.." he tries to speak, but can't seem to find the right words to describe what just happened. "you're okay? that help at all?" he presses lazy kisses to your neck and jaw, feeling your skin radiate heat.

you swallow hard. "think so."

"good, baby." he says, and you can practically hear the grin he has on his face. he's not gonna admit it, but you know he just got an insane ego boost from making you cum all over his leg.

"you gonna pass that test now?"

---

p.s this is a little short oops but i got better ideas yall dont even know

[wumbletumblebumble]

What I love about grace is that this is a man whose science nerd impulses outweigh his sense of self preservation and duty to Earth. You think if the rest of the crew had survived they'd be on board with putting everything aside to dedicate precious time to learning to communicate with the alien spider? Would they even be willing to follow through past first contact? The best part is that this could easily be treated as a fatal flaw but instead it is the key to his success.

[rainbowvamp]

hob in the dreaming just minding his own business:

dream: *drops a book on a table that was not there three seconds ago*

hob: hey buddy… there a problem?

dream, glaring at the book: yes

hob:

dream, still glaring:

hob: …wanna share?

dream: do you truly believe i do not care for you?

hob:

hob: what the fuck??

dream, opening the book that is hob’s letters (written and unwritten) and pointing to one from a couple weeks ago:

the letter: “…and maybe sometimes i still wonder if you’ll come back. if you’re just amusing yourself with me…”

hob: what about that says i don’t care about you?

dream: it implies that i do not care for you. do you think so little of me?

hob, breaking out of that weird dream space where your brain just accepts stuff and actually analyzing what is going on: wait, no. hold on. how do you have this?

hob, scanning through a set of letters he wrote on an artistic kick in the 1700s: no really! how do you have these?

dream: my realm contains every book ever written and unwritten.

hob: and so you read my letters?

dream: they were addressed to me

hob: no. no. they were not addressed to anyone. they were unsent.

dream: i’m clearly the intended recipient.

hob: you are not. i never meant you to read these.

hob: i never even wrote some of these! i just thought this one.

hob: did you read all of them??

dream:

dream: yes.

hob: what the fuck?

[specialagentartemis]

deeply tired reminder that the proverb “blood is thicker than water” has been used in the English language since the 1600s, and its ultimate origins may be from the 1100s; the longer version that tumblr likes, “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” is first attested in a book from the 1990s by a “Messianic Rabbi” with no sources. It’s literally prefaced by “Warning: The truths contained in the following teaching are not for the faint of heart, or the lukewarm! You can be sure that haSatan (the adversary) will do all he can to keep you from understanding and applying the concepts and truths contained herein”. The whole covenant framing is being used here to justify a “Jews for Jesus” interpretation of Judaism. It’s not “original” in any sense. The idea of blood covenants is a very old one, but there's no evidence that that's what that proverb refers to at all, and certainly not in those specific words (and this guy never even claimed that the specific words were original, just the sense of them). And the Brothers Grimm even suggested the "water" being referred to in the phrase was the water of baptism.

You are not obligated to like the sentiment expressed by “blood is thicker than water.” You don’t have to agree with proverbs. You are perfectly allowed to like the sentiment of “ the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb” better. But it is not in any way “authentic” or the “real” version, and it was not corrupted into the common version. Please.

[yaknowlikenyah]

Hey, Puppy♡ Beg!

Hello from Chance, your Cat Boy, Cuntboy, Dom Bottom, Weed Smoking, Wizard Posting, Gore Loving, God complex having Older Brother and Handler.

That should have cut about half of ya. If you're not into my vibes, block me! If you're a minor, Shoo. You know better.

24, He/They/It in a cat way, Trans dude(ish) in desperate need of top surgery. If you can throw me like a fucking javelin HMU

Sideblog

🐟 Kink List Here! 🐟

Send in an ask to add to it! I don't sext proper with anons but you can send in your horny asks all the same.

I sub on occasion, but not for you.

I don't have a DNI, just don't be a dick.

🐠 FAQ 🐠

Original Posts are Tagged:

Nyah: Origial posts

Pretty birding: pics

Like Nyah?: Asks

And satisfaction brought it back: Claimed asks

9 lives: Guro stuff

Runt of the Litter: Fauxcest

Roll Over: Handler posting ⚠️Wip

Nyahdios: Audios

Catnip: Intox

[yashley]

yussa really is the character to be though like. the world's most formidable teams are in your contact list! they haven't heard from you in a while. they think you fell in a hole somewhere and they're right. you really didn't think that caution sign was serious.

[rue-with-the-tarot]

If you can’t look towards the future with hope, look towards it with curiosity.

[dark-night-star-light]

Thinking about running a best character, best ship, or best quote bracket. Here's how each would hypothetically work (and vote in the poll at the bottom, please!):

The issue with characters would be that I’d have to go through all eighteen and a half books to find all the characters, or the other option is I only take characters that get submitted by the seven of us chilling here together in this hot tub (because like for Conor against Tepin, who the hell’s gonna vote for Tepin, right?). I would also allow you to submit propaganda to get your fav as far as possible and anti-paganda if you want a certain character to lose (as long as you keep it light-hearted and don't try to bash anyone that actually votes for that character etc. etc. etc.).

For ships, I will definitely only take submitted ships, because there are an infinite amount of ships that could happen otherwise. But I'll take anything no matter how crackship-y or rarepair-y it is (within limits, obviously no pedo/incest ships). Tentatively saying I will again allow propaganda and (light-hearted) anti-paganda, since I'm hoping we as a fandom are mature enough to let this be a chill experience and not devolve into ship bashing (I'm pretty sure we are, we're not the a/t/l/a fandom, so).

And for quotes, again, I'd only make a bracket out of quotes that get submitted. I'm not sure if I will allow propaganda for this one, because it seems kind of self-explanatory. But maybe, if people want it. If you submit a quote, you'd have to be able to tell me which book it was from, the page or chapter number, and who said it for it to be allowed into the bracket, although if you're not sure of one of those things, you could just tell me and I'd try to find it (I own all the books, so it wouldn't be a problem). I may or may not allow you to submit context or background for the quote (in some cases that can ruin the quote, or give it an unfair advantage). Quotes would be allowed to be as unserious or serious as you want, there will be no restrictions on it whatsoever (just don't make your quote, like, a single word or something).

In any case, you’d be allowed to submit as many characters/ships/quotes as you want. I would not reveal who submitted what character/ship/quote if that's something you choose to reveal to me, unless you want me to. I’m not sure how submissions will work, either through my ask box (don't worry, anon asks would be on) or through an anonymous Google form. Of course, my DMs are always open, too, if you want to submit something through there.

Your propaganda would be allowed to be anonymous or not (if you want the credit). It would also be allowed to be as short or as long as you want, and as unserious or serious as you want (you could literally submit, like, "Vote for Rollan, he's so funny and he needs a hug" as propaganda and I would accept it, or you can go deep and start talking about his parallels and arc and motifs and backstory and personality and hardcore analysis stuff, and that would also be fine). If multiple people submit propaganda for the same character/ship/quote, I’ll keep them all, and you are allowed to submit propaganda or anti-propaganda for as many characters/ships/quotes as you would like. When we're approaching the start of the bracket, I'll also say how many pieces of propaganda and anti-poganda were submitted for each character/ship/quote. That way, if a character/ship/quote has no propaganda or anti-paganda, it would be giving everyone a warning that that's the case and that it's the last chance to submit for them. Your propaganda also doesn't have to have any basis in canon. You could make up headcanons about a character and submit them as propaganda and that would be entirely fair game. You would not be allowed to submit links to analysis posts as propaganda, though, even if it's yours. Everything submitted needs to be something you wrote specifically for the bracket.

I would be the judge of whether the anti-propaganda crosses the line into bashing (no hard feelings, sometimes tone can be weird over text), and if it does I'd delete it but let whoever submitted it know that I did, so that they could try to submit something milder. Also, keep in mind that propaganda is subjective. Something you submit as anti-propaganda might actually resonate as propaganda with other people (like saying "Meilin was a racist and a classist" as anti-propaganda might just register as "Oh, she had such fantastic character development!" with some people, completely ruining what you were trying to do). Seems counterproductive, but if you have mixed feelings, I'd allow you to submit propaganda and anti-propaganda for the same character/ship/quote (I don't think anyone will actually do this, but it's an option).

If you have something else you want to add, put it in the tags. I’m also going to open up my ask box soon, so if you want to yell at me anonymously, that’ll be the place to go.

Hate to be that person, but reblog for sample size, please.