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swytdoll · 2 months ago

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BRAT TAMER! 𝜗𝜚

sum𝜗𝜚 toji despises working. he'd rather be off gambling, losing himself in the thrill and chaos of the games. but then he meets you, his new client's spoiled daughter. it's okay, though... he's a brat tamer.

wc𝜗𝜚 6.6k [oopsie]

warnings𝜗𝜚 SEMI PROOF-READ, older!pervtoji, masterbation, fingering, female + male oral, cum eating, squirting, creaming, choking, spitting, explicit language, toji is kind of mean, reader is annoying, age-gap [reader is 19 toji is 35] just a whole lot of nasty shit, enjoy hornies!

Toji Zenin really hated working. The same boring tasks, the long hours, the wear and tear on his body, and the relentless sun made every day feel like a drag. But there was one thing that made it all a bit more bearable: his client. More specifically, his client’s daughter. Sure, it was a bit taboo to have thoughts about a girl so much younger, but he couldn’t help himself.

Those shorts of yours were always way too tight, hugging your curves like they were made for you. And those shirts? Toji was pretty sure you didn’t even own a bra, especially with how your nipples would poke through the fabric whenever he caught a glimpse of you.

You had no shame, showing off that gorgeous body and cute face at every opportunity. It was like you wanted to be noticed in those revealing outfits, strutting around in swimsuits that left little to the imagination. He’d even seen your pussy lips once as you’d bent down near the pool, he remembers because he’d spent the entirety of his lunch break fisting his raging boner in a hot portable toilet.

Not exactly his finest hour.

You were undeniably a brat, completely indulged by your widowed father who was eager to fulfill every whim of his precious daughter. With wealth, a stunning home, a devoted dad, and your charming looks, it was no surprise that you carried the air of entitlement. Toji, however, found a certain appeal in your spoiled nature; he preferred you as a brat rather than a timid wallflower. From his perspective, brats were easier to tame. Most days, he found himself lost in fantasies of you. Daydreaming about your pretty little cunt warped about his cock.

It frustrated him how deeply you had woven yourself into his life. He couldn’t even get into it with his casual fling anymore unless he pictured you, and man, did that feel amazing.

"Dad!"

Speak of the Devil. The sound of your voice filled the air just as the front gate slammed behind you. Fresh from your weekly shopping spree with friends, you made your entrance. Toji felt a surge of frustration as the sharp click of your heels echoed on the cement. He turned away from his work space, his gaze fixed on you as you sauntered over, your hips swaying and oversized sunglasses perched on your nose.

He couldn't help but observe as you approached your father, a look of irritation etched on your face. Perhaps you had finally hit your credit card limit. With a sulky pout and arms crossed beneath your perky breasts, you pushed them up, and his thoughts spiraled.

Toji wanted nothing more than to rip the tank top off your body, pull your nipples between his fingers and twist them until you were crying.

"My card was declined!"

Toji struggled to suppress a laugh, biting down on the inside of his cheek. What a foolish little brat. Your father shot you a disapproving glance, and you let out an exasperated huff, stomping your foot like the spoiled child you were.

"I was at the mall trying to buy a cute dress, and the card didn't go through! So, I called the bank and they said it was declined!"

Your father sighed, and Toji could have sworn he saw the old man roll his eyes. He must have been fed up with having to coddle an adult woman.

"Listen, sweetheart. I already mentioned that I won't be giving you another allowance until next week. Perhaps it's time you learned how to manage your money, or maybe I should restrict your card usage. Clearly, this isn't working out." You gasped in response, and Toji couldn't help but feel a bit taken aback.

Maybe your dad wasn't as soft as he seemed. He felt a twinge of sympathy for him, having to handle a spoiled daughter like you.

“That's so unfair!" You cried, turning away from your dad, arms flailing and he swore he saw you kick a rock like a toddler having a tantrum. "I hate this fucking place! It's so hot and the bugs are everywhere. I can't stand it! Shopping is the only thing that keeps me sane." You yelled.

He noticed your dad wince, and Toji could already picture the headache brewing in the man's mind. "Mind your language," he said calmly, but you just scoffed.

"Or what?"

Toji could predict how this would unfold. Your dad would let out a resigned sigh and give in, while you'd strut away with a triumphant grin.

"Go to your room; you're done for the day. Sit there and think about your behavior. You're clearly too worked up," he said, and you stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?" you yelled, and he shook his head.

"I mean it. You're too agitated, and I don't want you to say or do something you'll regret later. Please, just go to your room," he insisted, and Toji had to suppress a laugh. It was clear you were at a loss for how to respond. You stomped your feet again and huffed in frustration.

"Fine."

As you marched toward your room, the sound of your heels echoed sharply, culminating in a loud slam of the door. Your father exhaled deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose while muttering softly to himself. "Kids..." he murmured, glancing at Toji with a sympathetic expression.

"I apologize for that. She's dealing with a lot at the moment." Toji responded with a reassuring shake of his head. "It's all good," he said, prompting a smile from your father.

“Thank you Toji. You’re a great guy, and you’ve done an amazing job with building the shed so far.”

“Thanks, sir,” he responded. Your dad turned his gaze toward your bedroom window, and Toji’s eyes followed suit. You were anxiously pacing, phone pressed to your ear, a scowl etched on your face. Your father frowned, and Toji cleared his throat, feeling the tension in the air.

Toji had never really had a conversation with you, and the only time he did, you had unleashed a torrent of curses at him. It was his first day on the job, and you had come down wearing nothing but a silk pink robe, clearly annoyed at being stirred from your sleep so early in the morning.

He stood there, taking in the sight of you descending the steps, the silk draping around your figure. He could see the gentle curves of your body, the outline of your bare breasts, the shape of your hips, and the smoothness of your legs.

"Do you realize how ridiculously early it is? It's seven, you dick!" You shot, glaring at Toji with a fiery intensity. He raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your attitude. It was obvious you were still in the process of waking up, not fully aware of who was standing there.

"Miss, I recommend you mind your language," he replied, and he could have sworn he noticed a shiver run through you. Your lovely lips parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping, and Toji had to fight the urge to grin. So, you enjoyed being spoken to like that. He cleared his throat and stepped closer, looking down at you with a playful smirk.

He didn’t spare you a second glance, not even flinching when the front door slammed shut behind you. From that moment on, you shot him daggers every time he crossed your path, throwing out sarcastic remarks whenever your father was out of earshot. Your behavior only escalated, and Toji was certain your dad was on the verge of exploding. But Toji believed he could change you; he was confident he could take that defiant attitude and transform it. He was certain of it. He would fuck that ego right out of you and mold it into a perfect little slut, ready and willing to please him.

"I still have a few tasks to finish up around the house. Thanks again, Toji," your father remarked, and Toji simply nodded.

"Absolutely."

The two shared a smile and the older man went back inside, leaving Toji to his thoughts. His mind wandered to all the possibilities and ways he could take you apart. He could see it now, his large hand holding yours down, forcing you to stay still as he pounded into your tight cunt. His other hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing tight as he made you cum, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. He'd pull out and force his cock down your throat, forcing you to choke on him. He'd fill you with his seed, spilling everything down your throat, watching as you swallowed his hot cum, a blissful look on your face.

God, the thoughts were intoxicating.

He would break you, mold you, bend you, and make you his own personal toy. You were going to be his.

He would make sure of it.

Your father had kept his promise; he had cut off your credit card and confined you to the house. It felt like a never-ending limbo. Most of your days were spent buried in a cheesy romance novel by the pool or dozing off. For the past few weeks, your dad had been working late, leaving you to dine solo and binge-watch reruns of old TV shows. It was downright dismal.

He even spent his evenings holed up in his office, tackling whatever tasks awaited him. The atmosphere was heavy with loneliness. You could sense his disappointment in your behavior, but who could really blame you? This house was a snooze fest. While your friends were off enjoying their summer adventures, you were stuck here.

They couldn’t even swing by to visit because of their packed schedules. Still, they called regularly, sharing tales of their escapades and new crushes. You appreciated their efforts to keep you in the loop, but those conversations only filled the emptiness for so long.

Today, you decided to lounge by the pool, soaking up the sun on a comfy chair. You donned your favorite bikini, a stylish white and gold set, the straps loosely tied, barely holding everything in place. The high-waisted bottoms accentuated your curves perfectly. Beside you, a refreshing glass of lemonade and a colorful mix of fruits—cherries, pineapples, and more—sat waiting. Your book lay on your stomach, eager for your attention once more.

The pool was stunning, and it had always been one of your favorite places to escape to. The water sparkled like crystal, the waterfall cascaded beautifully, and the palm trees swayed gently above. It was the sole reason you tolerated living in such a sweltering climate. However, there was one major drawback: the man who is building the shed. Toji, you learned was his name.

You couldn't stand him. He was insufferably rude and full of himself. His looks only made matters worse. You despised how incredibly handsome he was. You had never encountered a man so striking before. The definition of his arms, the chiseled jawline, and the width of his shoulders were infuriating.

His dark eyes, sun-kissed skin, and flowing dark hair only added to your irritation. It was maddening how flawless he appeared. Just the thought of him made your blood boil. He was so self-satisfied and arrogant, and the way he acted like he was superior to you drove you up the wall.

“Whatcha reading?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, glancing over to find Toji casually leaning against the patio door, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His white button-up shirt was rolled up, showcasing his well-defined arms. A warm flush crept across your cheeks. Why the fuck was he so handsome?

"What do you want?" you shot back, setting your book aside.

"I just wanted to see if you needed anything," he said, striding over to the chair beside you and pulling it closer. "Your dad mentioned he’d be working late and I thought I could order dinner for you," he added, a hint of mischief in his tone, causing your brows to knit together in confusion.

"Why the hell would you order dinner for me? I can do it myself.”

"Because I'm a nice guy, and it would suck for a pretty girl like you to have to fend for herself." He responded, a sly smile on his lips and you couldn't help the small shiver that went down your spine. You shook the thoughts from your head and rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, right. You just want to get in my pants. Don't try to act like a good guy, I know exactly who you are. My dad's a great guy, he'd never hire a creep like you."

"Is that what you think?"

You didn't answer, a scowl forming on your face.

"Well, if I'm a creep, then what does that make you?"

"What?"

"Come on, don't act dumb. I know you get off on teasing me."

"You're a fucking pervert.”

"Maybe."

His grin was wolfish, and he looked predatory, leaning forward and staring you down. "Tell me, have you been a good girl lately? Or have you been naughty?"

"I-"

"You've been very bratty lately. I know your dad's getting sick of it."

You swallowed thickly, a blush coating your cheeks. How could he read you so well?

"But, don't worry. I can fix you."

"Fix me? What are you talking about?"

"You're spoiled. And I'll change that."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know you want it. I can tell."

He leaned back, his arm resting on the back of the chair.

"And, if you're good, I'll reward you."

"Reward me?"

He grinned and nodded, leaning forward and pressing his lips against your ear.

"Yes. If you're a good girl, I'll fuck you like the slut you are."

He pulled back, the grin never leaving his face.

"Think about it, princess."

He winked, standing up and turning away, a chuckle leaving him.

You were speechless, your heart racing, and a blush coloring your cheeks. The heat pooled between your legs and you shifted. What the fuck was wrong with him? Did he really think you would let him fuck you?

Who were you kidding, you were already soaked.

"Dick..." You muttered, shaking your head.

That night, you couldn't get him out of your head. The way his words had sent shivers down your spine, the way his gaze had been filled with lust. It was so...wrong, but it was a wrong you wanted. You didn't care, and the idea of getting caught only added to the thrill. You'd already spent an hour in the shower, the warm water and the detachable shower head bringing you to orgasm after orgasm. You could still hear his voice, the raspy tone, the way his words dripped with sex and lust. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew he had you right where he wanted. You could hear his chuckle echoing in your head, his grin filling your mind.

It was sad, really.

How could a man you didn't even like have this effect on you?

It was ridiculous.

You couldn't believe you were letting him get into your mind.

He was a fucking creep.

A handsome, sexy, confident creep.

A sudden knock at the door jolted you from your reverie, causing you to startle and sit up abruptly. You quickly snatched a towel, wrapping its comforting softness around you before swinging the door open. There he stood, the man who had been lingering in your thoughts.

" What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I brought the pizza. I told you I was getting dinner." He replied, a grin on his lips and you scoffed.

"Why did you bring it up here?"

"I was trying to be nice, and besides. I didn't know when your dad was going to be home."

He stepped forward, forcing his way into the room, and setting the box down on the bed.

"You're such a dick." You muttered, crossing your arms.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong with me bringing food to the boss' daughter?"

"Nothing. But, that's not why you're here."

"And, what do you think I'm here for?"

"Don't play dumb, you already told me."

"Oh, is that right?" He chuckled. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?"

You were taken aback by his sudden question, your eyes widening.

"Whaa—No, I don't."

"Then, why are you so wet?"

“I just got out of the shower wise guy. Get out.”

He grinned and stepped closer, and you took a step back.

"Y’know, the walls are thin. So, it's easy to hear the moans and gasps of a girl when she touches herself. But, hey. What would I know? I'm just a construction guy."

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Had he really heard you masturbate?

"S-shut up. I don't know what you're talking about.” You felt your heart race and the towel slip down slightly. You moved to fix it, and he stepped forward, his hand moving towards your neck.

"Let me take care of that for you."

He gripped the towel, his lips crashing onto yours in a passionate kiss. There was a fierce hunger in him, as he explored your mouth with fervor. His tongue danced inside, teasing the roof of your mouth. Meanwhile, his other hand found its way to your breasts, fingers pinching your nipple with a playful intensity earning a whine from you. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down to your neck, planting soft kisses that turned into gentle bites on your sensitive skin. As he pulled back, a satisfied grin spread across his face as he gazed down at you.

"Get on the bed."

"Wha-what?"

"Get on the bed."

You were surprised by his commanding tone, and you could feel your cunt aching. You walked towards the bed, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress and you fell back. You looked up at him, and he smiled.

"Take off the towel."

You did as he said, pulling the towel away and revealing your naked body. He licked his lips, a hungry expression in his eyes.

"Touch yourself."

Your hands moved to your breasts, cupping the mounds and rolling your nipples between your fingers. You let out a soft gasp, your head falling back. you began to rub your sensitive clit. You were already wet, the thought of being watched had made you dripping. The pleasure that shot through you made your knees weak and your eyes fluttered closed.

You heard his voice again, this time closer to your ear and you shuddered.

"Good girl."

“Oh god..."

"Spread your legs wider."

You whimpered, moving your legs farther apart and you sank a finger inside of you. Your body quivered as you slowly began pumping your hand and the warmth began to build in your belly.

"Yes...that's it."

You cried out softly as you slipped another finger inside of you, pumping them faster and faster. Your body tingled. Toji watched, his cock aching for release in his pants. You looked so slutty spread out for him like this, slickness leaking down your ass. He wanted to shove his dick into your hot, tight pussy, but he restrained himself. You were his to command.

"Faster. Fuck yourself faster."

"Nghh...I-I..."

"Come for me, kitten."

You moaned, your walls clenching around your fingers. You were already sore from your previous orgasms, but you felt another one quickly coming. You moved your hips, trying to get more friction.

"That's right. Ride your hand like a little whore. Cum for me. Now."

"A-Ahh!"

Your hips bucked against your hand and you came, squirting over your fingers and onto the floor. Your chest heaved, your body trembling as you sank down into the matress.

Toji growled lowly, the sight of your glistening pussy and the smell of your sex made him feel dizzy. He pulled his hard cock out of his pants and stroked it quickly, his thumb rubbing over his fat tip. You felt him climb onto the bed and his hand gripped the back of your neck.

"Open your mouth."

You obeyed, gasping as you felt him rub the head of his cock against your tongue. He pumped his hand, thrusting into your mouth and making you gag. Your jaw ached as he fucked your mouth.

"Take my cock...nghh."

Toji groaned, his eyes closed and his face scrunched up. You could feel him twitching on your tongue. You moaned around him, sending a wave of pleasure through him. His hand squeezed the back of your neck tighter.

"Suck harder ughh."

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he forced his entire length down your throat, the tip of his cock touching the back of your tongue. Tears formed in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you struggled to breathe.

"Mmghhh."

You tried to relax your throat, sucking on his cock the best you could. Your hands clenched the sheets.

"That's a good girl."

He grunted, his cock pulsating.

"M-Mmm You take me so well, kitten.”

You were drooling, spit and precum dribbling down your chin. It was disgusting. He pulled back and you took a deep inhale.

"Did I tell you to stop?"

"N-no."

"No, what?"

"No, sir."

"Then get back to work."

"Yes, sir."

He growled and thrust his hips.

"Good, baby."

He groaned, hands finding themselves in your hair.

"Fuck. I'm gonna come soon. You ready for me, baby? Gonna swallow every drop?"

"Yes, please."

"Good, good girl."

His thrusts became faster and more erratic, his breathing shallow.

"Ahh. Fuck, yeah. G’na come."

He hated how fast he was nearing his end, but the way you gobbled him down and squeezed his balls in time with your tongue had him spiraling. Your every movement was calculated, each flick of your tongue and squeeze of your hand driving him closer to the edge. He could feel the tension building within him, a mix of pleasure and desperation that left him breathless. The intensity of your touch, combined with your unwavering eye contact, made it impossible for him to hold back any longer.

“Ughhhh fuckkkkk!” He threw his head back and came, shooting thick ropes of his hot seed down your throat. You swallowed, moaning and milking him for everything he had. You felt him shiver, his muscles tensing as he came down. He looked down at you, his eyes dark and wild.

He grabbed you by the arm, yanking you up to your feet and crushing his mouth to yours. You could feel the heat from his body and you melted against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His hands were all over you, his lips on your neck. He was heavy and hot, pressing you into the mattress. He kissed his way down your chest and stomach, his fingers brushing the wet folds of your pussy.

"Toji!”

"Mm, you're still so wet."

"F-for youuuu."

"You like being touched like this?"

"Uh huh."

He slipped a finger inside of you, his thumb brushing your clit. You whined, as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting it gently. You writhed underneath him, his name a constant prayer. He added another finger, stretching you, finding that special gummy spot. You arched your back, moaning loudly.

A desperate whine leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls away, tucking his cock back into his pants. You look up at him, pouting.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You didn't fuck me."

"That wasn't the plan, princess."

"I hate you. Pervert.”

He chuckles, patting your thigh.

"No, you don't."

He gets up and walks out of the room, leaving you panting and unsatisfied.

"Fucking dick.”

Toji had you completely under his spell. His piercing gaze and self-assured presence made it impossible for you to look away. Each time you attempted to shift your focus elsewhere, your mind would inevitably circle back to him. The way he moved, the way he spoke—everything about him was magnetic, pulling you in deeper.

He was aware of the effect he had on you. A glimmer of satisfaction danced in his eyes whenever he caught you watching him. It was as if he relished the control he held, knowing you were utterly entranced by his aura. Despite your attempts to fight it, a rush of excitement coursed through you every time he was close.

It became a familiar pattern where Toji would bend you over, his fingers exploring you until you either squirted or cried out his name in ecstasy. Yet, he never crossed that final line, leaving you both frustrated and yearning. Your father noticed your newfound cheerfulness, but you brushed it off with a casual shrug. Eventually, he returned your credit card and lifted your grounding, but your thoughts remained consumed by Toji.

“Oh yeah honey, I invited Toji over for dinner.”

You froze, and looked up from the raw chicken.

"What? Why?"

"I wanted to thank him for helping us out, he’s done a great job. Don’t ya think?”

"Why can't we just send him a gift basket or something?"

"Because that would be rude. Besides, he's a nice guy. He deserves to be treated like a guest."

You sighed and tightened your grip on the meat tenderizer. The truth was, you hadn’t spoken to Toji in days; he seemed to be keeping his distance. The thought of being in the same space with him was daunting, especially after everything that had happened between you two.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything with your father around, right? You shook off the thought and concentrated on your cooking, but the anxiety swirling in your chest was hard to ignore.

When Toji finally entered the dining room, you were a bundle of nerves. A mix of excitement and dread washed over you as he stepped inside. His mere presence seemed to dominate the room, and you struggled to keep your eyes from lingering on him.

"Hey, thanks for inviting me."

"Of course, Toji. It's the least we could do."

You kept your head down and focused on your food the entire night, ignoring the urge to look at him.

"You okay, pumpkin? You're very quiet tonight."

"I'm fine."

"She's probably just tired." Toji said.

Your eyes grew wide as you locked eyes with him, feeling the intensity of his stare pierce through you, sending your heart into a frenzy. The urge to reach out and slap him was strong, but you knew better than to provoke your father’s suspicion. So, you bit your tongue and focused on your meal instead.

Once dinner was over, your father retreated to his study, Toji having promised to clean up, leaving you two in an awkward silence. The tension in the room was palpable, with both of you at a loss for words. You felt an overwhelming desire to shout at him, to accuse him of being a creep and to have used you. To demand he leave, but the words just wouldn’t come. Instead, you remained there, simmering with frustration.

At last, he shattered the stillness.

"So, how are you liking the new semester?"

"Fine."

"Any problems?"

"No."

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Listen, I know you're mad at me."

"Mad? I'm fucking furious. What the fuck is your deal, Toji? You get me hooked then you go ghost?”

"Hooked?"

"You know what I mean."

He chuckled, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. "It was just a bit of fun. Didn't mean anything by it."

"Bullshit. I'm not stupid. Why are you playing with me?"

He locks his hands under his chin. "I'm not playing with you."

You glared. "Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes. You want me."

He sighed and shook his head.

"You're a kid. It would be inappropriate."

"I'm not a kid."

"Yeah, you are. Look, it's nothing personal. I just don't date girls like you."

"Girls like me?"

"Rich kids with their own personal army."

"I'm not-"

"Save it. I know who your dad is. I'm not interested in getting mixed up in his business, it was a mistake doing those things with you."

You swallowed thickly, his words like a slap.

"Then why the hell are you here?"

"Because I was invited."

"You're such a dick."

You were angry, but you couldn't help but notice how his eyes seemed to darken. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing as you. What it would be like to have him pin you down and fuck you. The thought made your cheeks flush.

"You know, I bet if I told your father what we'd been doing, he'd have a very different opinion of you."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. Just a reminder. Don't forget who's in charge here."

"Fuck you."

"I don't fuck little girls."

You could feel your anger rising, and you were tempted to throw something at him. But you knew he was right. He was in control, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"So, what now? Are we just going to pretend like nothing happened?"

"If that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want."

"Well, then I guess we're at an impasse."

"I hate you."

"Don't be dramatic. You barely know me."

"I know enough. You're a jerk and a bully."

"And you're a spoiled brat who needs to learn some respect."

You scoffed at him, clenching your fists.

"Don't push me, princess."

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things." He quipped.

His eyes were dark and full of promise, and you could feel yourself growing wet.

"I bet."

"You wanna find out?"

“What I want is to slap that grin off your stupid face."

"Slap me. Do it."

"No."

"Why not? Too scared?"

"No."

"Then do it." He urges.

"Stop it."

"What? You're the one who's always pushing my buttons. Come on, princess. Show me what you got."

You stand and lift your hand, striking him sharply across the face, the crack resonating throughout the room. A sharp intake of breath escaped you, and your eyes widened in shock. His cheek flushed crimson, clearly marked by the outline of your hand. He smirked and ran his tongue over his lips.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're an asshole."

"Yeah, and you're a spoiled bitch who likes to get fucked with my fingers."

You could feel your face flush, and you turned away from him.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Fine. Go fuck yourself." You sigh.

"Nah, I think I'll have you do it."

He chuckled, his voice deep and low.

"Oh, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You snapped.

"No. Not with you. Never."

"Really? Not even a little?"

"Not even a little." You rolled your eyes.

"Come on, princess. You can't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. I can practically smell the desire on you."

"Shut up."

"Why? Because I'm right?"

"No, because you're annoying."

"So, you're not interested? Not even a little?"

"Fuck you, bipolar ass."

"Ooh, feisty. I like it."

"I hate you."

"The feeling's mutual, sweetheart."

He was the one with the upper hand, and there was nothing you could do about it. He stands up from the table, face inches from yours. “Ya think if fucked you on this table lil ol’ daddy would hear?” You felt your pulse quicken, and a wave of arousal wash over you. "What? No snarky comeback?"

"You're a fucking pig."

"I might be, but at least I'm honest about it. Unlike you."

He stepped closer, his body pressing against yours. "Tell me, princess. Do you like the idea of being fucked on your family's expensive table?" You could feel his erection pressing against your hip, and you could barely contain the moan that threatened to escape.

"Tell me. Is this turning you on? The idea of being used like a cheap whore, your father just down the hall."

"Fuck you." You shakily breathe out. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to bend you over and fuck your tight little pussy. Make you scream my name while your daddy is sipping his scotch, completely oblivious."

"Enough Toji.”

"What's the matter, princess? Don't want your daddy to know what a dirty little slut you are? How you’re fucking a grimy old man.”

"I'm not a slut."

"Could've fooled me. With the way you're always begging for my cock."

"I am not!"

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. We both know the truth."

You could feel your face burning, and you were desperate to put some distance between the two of you. But his body was like a brick wall, and you couldn't move.

"Get off of me."

"Why? Afraid you might enjoy it?"

"You’re…disgusting"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I bent you over and fucked you right here, right now. Made you scream so loud your daddy would come running. Wouldn't that be fun?"

You were furious, but the truth was, his words were turning you on. You couldn't deny the heat that was pooling between your legs, or the way your nipples were straining against your shirt.

"What's wrong, princess? Cat got your tongue?"

"Fuck. You."

"Mm, that's more like it."

His hand snaked up your shirt, his fingers grazing your nipples. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

"That's right, baby. Let me hear you."

"Stop it."

"Why? You don't like it?"

"No."

"Liar."

He squeezed your left bud, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out. "You like that, don't you? You like being manhandled by a real man. Not some preppy rich boy."

"Please."

"Please, what? Stop? Or keep going?"

"Keep…going."

"That's what I thought."

His hand dipped lower. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you wore this skirt for him. For easy access, of course. The way it hugged your curves, the way it rode up just enough to tease him, it was all too perfect. He couldn't help but think you knew exactly what you were doing. His hands slid up your thighs, feeling the soft fabric and the warmth of your skin beneath. As he lifted the skirt higher, his breath hitched, and he couldn't wait to ruin you. His fingers brushing against the growing wet spot on your pink laced panties.

"Such a dirty little slut. Look at you, already soaking wet and I've barely touched you."

"Fuck."

"Mmm, you want that, don't you? You want me to fuck you. Right here. Right now. In your daddy's house. Where he could walk in any minute and catch us."

"Please."

"Beg me."

"Please, fuck me."

"Good girl."

He pressed his thumb against your clit, and you mewled in pleasure.

“So loud, no respect."

You gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady yourself as he continued to assault your senses. His fingers were relentless, teasing and stroking, and soon, you were a writhing mess.

”Open your mouth.” he commands, a mischievous glint in his eyes. your mind is foggy, and you find yourself following his directions, opening your mouth slightly. You winch as his fingers dig into your cheeks, a glob of spit trickling from his mouth into yours. You can taste the acidity and bitterness as it slides down your throat. Your mind screams to pull away, but your body ignores it. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, his fingers leaving your face to grip your hair tightly.

The first slap sends your head flying, a dull ache beginning in the right side of your skull. He holds you in place and slaps you again, this time your teeth cut into your lip and the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. His eyes narrow, the grip on your hair tightening.

“Gonna fix you.”

"Please. Please."

"What? What do you want, princess?"

"I want… I want you."

"You want me to fuck you? To make you come?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"Say it."

"Please, fuck me."

He pushed your panties aside, his fingers delving into your slick heat. You sobbed, unable to contain the pleasure coursing through your body. He smirked, watching your expression as he slowly finger-fucked you.

"God, you're so fucking wet."

"Please. Please, don't stop."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He added another finger, stretching you further. You grunted out, the sensation almost too much to bear. Toji presses the sloppiest kisses on your neck as he finger fucks you, pad of his thumb still working your sticky clit. You know it’s risky to be doing this, your father could come out at any moment. But, when Toji’s slender fingers prod into your mushy pussy, all rationality leaves your mind. All you can think about is his fingers pumping in and out of you.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel your orgasm building slowly but surely. Your toes curl, and your body begins to shake. You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying desperately to ground yourself. He continues his assault on your pussy, his fingers moving in and out of you at a rapid pace. “Ah she’s gushin’ all over me.” He laughs, watching your body spasm.

“Toji…please."

"Please what, princess?"

"I need...I need..."

"What? Tell me."

"I need to come."

"Not yet."

"Please. Please, I'm begging you."

"Oh, I love it when you beg. But not yet."

He withdraws his fingers, and you whimper at the loss. He smirks and sucks his digits, licking the juices from them. You can't help but stare at him, transfixed by his movements.

"God, you taste good. I could eat this pussy all day."

"Please."

"Patience, princess."

He turns you around and bends you over the table, your ass in the air. You can feel his erection pressing against your leg, and you know he wants this as much as you do. He pulls down up your skirt and frees his cock. It's big and thick, and you can't help but lick your lips. He strokes himself a few times, coating his cock with your juices as he slaps it on your pussy.

He rubs the head of his cock against your wet slit, and you can feel yourself getting wetter. You can't believe how turned on you are, how desperate you are to feel him inside of you. "Fuck me. Please, fuck me."

He has to clamp a hand over your mouth when he begins sheltering his beefy length into your cunt. Your scream is muffled by his hand, and he slowly pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and you can't help but clench around him. He grunts, his grip on your hips tightening with his free hand.

"God, princess, your pussy is so fucking tight."

You can't help but push back against him, wanting him deeper. despite the searing pain between your legs. He continues his assault on your pussy, thrusting in and out of you. Your moans are muffled by his hand, eyes rolling back into your head. It feels so good, “Shittt—ughm, can’t have you getting us caught.”

Toji whispers into your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

He removes his hand from your mouth and wraps it around your throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"God, you're so fucking hot."

You can't form words, the pleasure taking over.

He squeezes so hard you think you might pass out, but then his hand is gone, and he's pounding into you at a frenzied pace. "Fucking hell." He groans, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room.

You try to stifle your moans, but it's no use. He's relentless, driving into you again and again, his cock hitting all the right spots. You feel like heaven around him, walls constricting around his aching cock. He can't believe how lucky he is to have a little cockslut like you.

He fucks into you with reckless abandon, the table scraping against the floor. The sound of skin slapping now deafening, and the smell of sex permeates the air.

He reaches around and rubs your clit, tears streaming down your face.

"That's right, princess. Take it."

Your entire body is shaking, the pressure building until it's unbearable. He removes his hand from your throat and slaps your ass, the sharp pain pushing you closer towards the edge. You cry out. “ Q-Quie—“ he’s cutting you off as he slams his cock deep into you, the force of his thrust causing the table to squeak and shudder. “Shut up. Talk t-to much.” He mutters, shoving two of his fingers into your mouth.

The taste of yourself on his fingers sends you spiraling into oblivion. Your pussy clenches around him, and he groans.

"Oh fuck."

He pounds into you, his own release imminent.

"Gonna fill this little pussy with my cum."

He grips your hips tightly now with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Toji. Toji. Oh, fuck. Fuck." You cry out, stars exploding behind your eyes as your orgasm tears through you.

He groans and buries his cock deep inside of you, then he’s retracting. Thick white cream built at the base of his shaft, coating his cock in slickness. His eyes roll back at the sight of the pearlescent liquid smeared along his length. A thick layer coats his hand as he slides his fist along his member, his fingers moving easily from the wetness.

His balls draw up as his pleasure increases, his ass clenching with his need for release. Once again, you’ve got him cumming in under ten minutes. He hates it, but damn you feel so good.

"Fuckin’ killin me, can’t last with you.” He groans as he shoots his load on your ass.

You lay there, panting, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck. You're perfect, princess."

You can't help but moan as he spreads your pussy from behind, his tongue lapping up the mixture of your juices.

"Tastes so good. I can't get enough."

You can't speak, the sensation too much for your spent body.

He continues his assault on your pussy until you're a whimpering mess, begging him to stop. He finally relents, standing up and tucking himself back into his pants.

"I think we made quite the mess, princess."

He smirks, the sight of you bent over the table, his cum dripping down your thighs a beautiful sight to behold.

“You alright sweetheart?” You hear your father call, confused by the commotion.

“I’m fine! Just stuffed.”

Toji snickers, placing a kiss on your cheek whilst pulling your skirt down. You can't help but smile, knowing that this isn't the last time you'll have him inside of you. You'll make sure of it.

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serpentface · 2 months ago

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A pair of Czekl drakes readying at a flower duel.

The one stretching and yawning is dressed in full dueling/dancing attire, which shows off material wealth via fine clothing and feathers while also exposing the sexiest part of his breeding plumage (in this culture it's the head and neck) and his flushed blue skin.

The other is his pair bonded partner, whose drab full body covering and clipped quills establishes that he is not available for reproduction this year, and meets expected modesty standards for a seasonally celibate drake. His presence makes his reproductively available partner more attractive to prospective hens, as it indicates that the celibate drake will have no offspring of his own this year and his full investment will be in his partner's young (and thus that of any hens who choose him).

---

[Key for the typical sex assignments across qilik sexual variation:

Hen: Lays eggs, has duller coloration year-round, largest average body mass.

Drake: Produces sperm, has brighter coloration that molts into very colorful breeding plumage, skin seasonally flushes blue, smaller average body mass.

Faeder: Produces sperm and is usually physically indistinguishable from hens in average size and coloration. Can be anywhere between 1-25% of the sperm producing population.]

---

Qilik species-wide descend from an ancestral mating system in which hens did not form pair bonds with drakes and played no role in raising subadult offspring, and rather would mate with chosen drake(s) and leave their eggs with the most favored suitor. Drakes would form long term pair bonds with other (usually related) drakes and cooperatively brood and raise young together. Faeder would wander through lekking grounds and opportunistically mate with hens (without having to directly compete with drakes) and play no further role in hatching/rearing their offspring.

They have brief windows of seasonal fertility triggered by the springtime increase of daylight hours (with some equatorial populations having their cycles triggered by seasonal rains instead). Most drakes experience a significant surge of testosterone which causes their springtime molt producing very bright new feathers and their skin to flush blue (if they are well-nourished).

Modern qilik have full behavioral plasticity that subjects this baseline mating system to tremendous cultural variation. There are some broad commonalities- drakes perform the majority of child rearing across most cultures, forms of drake sexual display (whether directly involved in reproduction or not) are nearly ubiquitous in the form of various cultural practices (dances, songs, mock or real combat, etc), and seasonal fertility is a purely biological trait and a universal.

The nomadic culture and heavily dispersed population of the Czekl people means reproductive arrangements are rarely made in advance. Rather, regional populations assemble in established locations during mid spring for a month-long event where the usually separated hen/faeder clans and drake clans can mingle. This is a time for trade, for drake parents to find suitable clans for any of their young adult hen/faeder children, and for individuals looking to reproduce to find a suitable (and highly temporary) partner.

In this culture, hens usually play no direct part whatsoever in their children's lives and may very well never see them hatched. Hens are believed to be the mechanism that supplies spiritual ancestral guardianship to their young, but their material responsibility begins and ends with finding a drake who can show himself to be strong, handsome, healthy, tied to a good clan, and economically secure enough to take good care of their offspring. This process is sometimes accomplished with simple meeting and talking, but the flashiest ways for drakes to advertise themselves is the flower duel.

This is a combination of a dance and a fight, in which available drakes congregate on a dueling ground, match up against the best looking rival they can find, and attempt to pin them to the ground while also dancing to chanted music and showing off their finest clothing and sexy feathers. Hens will watch these proceedings (usually aided by other members of their clan), and can approach anyone that catches their eye after the fact to converse and ensure that they have found a good father for their children. This also functionally provides a mechanism for drakes who do not have a pair-bonded male partner to attract a co-parent, and this culture's equivalents of romance stories lavish attention to narratives of flower duel rivals becoming enamored in the process of their mock battle.

Czekl culture places very little expectation on even temporary fidelity, and hens will often mate with multiple drakes per season and only provide their single egg (often of indeterminate siring) to the one they deem best. It's up to an individual drake to not only prove that he's extremely sexy and excellent father material, but that he can be good company for the week or so between the first (of usually many) acts of breeding and his reproductive partner(s) laying their eggs. While hens and drakes rarely form any sort of permanent bond in this culture (and aren't likely to see each other whatsoever for the rest of the year), these temporary friendships can be meaningful and enjoyable. There's plenty of things to do at this gathering besides just showing off and fucking, and temporary mates that actually hit it off will often bring their respective clans together to socialize and trade.

---

The modesty standards of qilik cultures trend towards regulating attire of drakes more intensely than hens/faeder, especially when in breeding plumage and skin condition. Czekl society has fairly limited modesty standards, with the cloaca being the only part of the body expected to remain publicly covered in most contexts regardless of gender. The only major exception is that drakes who are choosing to remain celibate for the breeding season (or who have secured as many partners as they can handle) are expected to demonstrate this with full body covering. The exposure of seasonally blue tinted skin and breeding plumage is treated as an advertisement of full sexual availability, and uncovered drakes who refuse any mating are often subject to aggression and treatment as sexually deviant.

Czekl drake pairs typically take turns playing the reproductive role, hence the routine presence of seasonally celibate males at this event. A drake being able to display that he not only has a bonded partner but one who will remain nonreproductive for this season increases his chances of reproductive hookups. It tends to be assumed that partnered drakes will disproportionately invest in their own offspring, so having sex with a drake who has a celibate male partner is seen by most hens as guaranteeing a better future for the one and only egg they can lay each year.

This perception is a cultural bias rather than a response to behavioral drives, as partnered drakes do not actually show instinctive preference for their own young over that of their pair-bonded partner's. The evolutionary background for this is rooted in pre-behaviorally modern qilik male partners very frequently being biological brothers, and thus reaping selective benefits in mutual care for their related young. This is not as ubiquitously the case for behaviorally modern qilik, though incest taboos are rarely applied to bonded drake relationships. In the Czekl sphere, up to a quarter of these nonreproductive pair bonds are between male siblings.

It is exceptionally rare for qilik cultures to form taboos surrounding homosexual behavior between drakes, and when extent they tend to regulate actual sex acts rather than the forming of these pair bonds in of themselves. Less rare is acceptance of drake celibacy (outside of various religious contexts that dictate it), referring to complete/attemptedly lifelong abstinence from mating with hens. Czekl (and most central plains qilik groups) do not police the sexuality of drakes as aggressively as more intensely hen-matriarchal cultures do, but it’s still an expectation that all drakes will participate in bringing offspring to their clans over the course of their lives. Those who remain Serially (rather than seasonally) celibate are often subject to discrimination and sometimes even ousting from their own clans. The clan is the central unit of Czekl society and drake clans (treated as bloodlines) are sustained by their members providing offspring, so choosing never to do so is treated as imperilment of a clan's future.

Czekl drakes forming permanent pair bonds with hens is considered unnatural and deviant (though not aggressively policed, and very rare in practice), and forming these with faeder is HIGHLY stigmatized (faeder themselves are treated as barren hens in spite of their actual fertility, and are discouraged both from mating with hens and from forming bonds with drakes/joining drake clans). The practice of seasonally celibate drakes appearing in this public setting with full body covering has (culturally unintentional) functions in enabling these stigmatized drake/faeder pair bonds to fly under the radar (by giving an avenue for a faeder to hide her dull coloration and therefore sex assignment, under the guise of being a celibate drake), and allowing them to obtain offspring for themselves.

#czekl

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missadangel · 7 days ago

Text

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 3: Happily Never After

series masterlist

Chapter Summary: They say the liar's candle burns until nightfall, and the truth eventually comes out. But if the liar had to say the lie without wanting to, can she ever be forgiven? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 8k, explicit MDNI, smutty, fluffy, and angst... authors note: I'm so glad you all showed so much love and interest in this story! Thanks a ton, everyone!

An elevator ride towards the topmost floor brought you to a spectacular view of the city below, glass panels surrounding almost every inch of the suite. The elevator’s soft ding startled your body into action. Stepping through, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the moment. Luxurious surroundings of rich blacks, silvery grays, and gleaming gold details captured your attention, soothing your nerves. However, it was merely a distraction that served nothing, not when you could feel his every movement, his graceful steps moving to and fro.

The suite was larger than you thought, and the hallway was strewn with flower petals. The shopping bags filled with clothes he had bought for you sat on the large table to your right. You stood there, -your gaze fixed on them but avoiding his face- feeling a wave of heat intensifying throughout your body. You were startled by Harry's gentle touch as he helped you remove your coat. He did it slowly and lingeringly, letting his fingertips glide along your neck and shoulders. You glanced at him shyly, your heart racing as your eyes finally met.

Damn.

His eyes burning you to the core.

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you took a deep breath and swallowed it down. Just as he was about to turn, you caught a quick glimpse of his lips moving—was he smiling? Crap, he must have picked up on how nervous you were. Of course, he did; you were acting all jittery like a bride on her wedding night. But this wasn’t a wedding night, and you weren’t a bride, so why were you feeling this way? It had been a while since you’d last hooked up, but that wasn’t what was stressing you out. You really needed to calm the chaos going on in your head, and fast.

His words echoed in your mind: "For now, just let it all out."

And you did.

In that moment, you made up your mind. Deep down, you admitted that you wanted him.

Yes.

You wanted him so badly that you didn't care about anything else, so badly that you swallowed your pride in an instant.

You turned to him and your eyes stayed glued to him.

To his back.

The way he moved, the way he touched, grabbed and placed your coat over the chair. The way his eyes locked with yours, and with just a look, he understood.

Then he lunged.

Brought your face into his, your lips melded as one, devouring one other, clashing with hunger released from the confines of your heart. You couldn't hold back this madness any longer, opening up so gloriously, so effortlessly to his probing tongue, tongue that feverishly explored every inch of your mouth, wanting, no, needing, to brand every inch with his taste. And you pushed back, wanting the same thing: for him to taste you.

He pushed you back with even more passion than you did. You did trip, but he was agile enough to catch you before you fell, pinned you against a wall. His lips met your jaw, teeth scraping down to your neck while your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel him, desperate to touch...

Your sudden growl got his attention, and he surged up, kissing your mouth again, helping you with the damn shirt. Once it came off, you wasted no time. Your hands roamed with eager curiosity, enchanted by the velvety warmth of his skin despite the strength of his body, at the solid ridges your palms found, the sculpted lines of his chest, the tightness of his rippling biceps, his abs.

He was a magnificent sight, a living dream, and you were completely committed to exploring every inch of him.

Then, with a swift and eager move, he found the zipper of the dress, lowering it until it finally gave way, the straps on your shoulder falling helplessly to their sides. He took a moment to appreciate the stunning sight of the dress gracefully cascading from your body, elegantly flowing to the floor and pooling at your feet. His gaze lingered on every detail, from your bare legs to the delicate strands of hair framing your face. A proud smile spread across his lips, accompanied by a playful growl of approval, clearly delighted by the breathtaking vision before him.

Eagerly, he reached out with his hand to help you step over the dress, and then he placed another burning kiss on your lips.

He was quick to grab you by the hips, quick to pin you against the wall again. One arm encased you within his grip, the other harshly split your legs open and found your clit beneath your panties. You gasped, bucked against him, against his hold, his crotch. He wouldn’t budge, his mouth scraping, tasting you, your neck despite your jewelry, leaving behind delicious bites that left your body mindless, numb to everything but him.

“You have no idea how much I've been hoping for this moment,” he finally said, sucking, biting your shoulder a little too hard, rubbed your clit a little too slow, and yet. You whined for him, because of him, craving all he had to give, indifferent to whether it was right or wrong. And despite how overwhelming it was, his fingers still moved so slow, so softly against your clit- you couldn't help the desperate moan that escaped your lips, in desire to get closer, to- He growled, “Just like this, kitty, I want you just like this. Pliant, desperate for more.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His words didn't help; instead, they only made you squirm more. You knew he was doing it on purpose, yet damn it, you needed more; so desperate for this delicious torture to end.

“Please,” you said, whimpering.

“Please what?” He rubbed his nose teasingly against yours, a smirk dancing on his lips as he awaited your answer. With his grip, he pressed you against him a little more until your pussy was pressed against his clothed, hard cock. "Is this what you want?"

"Y-yes."

He laughed harshly.

You couldn't help it, you blushed hard after he said, "So you finally admit you want me.” He nibbled on your ear, whispered against it. "You will get what you want sweetheart, no rush. There’s something else I want to do first.”

Without lowering you from the wall against which he was pinned you, he lifted you up and caught you in his arms. He wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist and carried you to the bed.

Gripping his shoulders, yourt heart racing. Maintaining eye contact, he leaned in and gently set you on the edge of the bed. You scooted back, feeling excited, biting your lips. "Not yet," he said, his voice low and husky as he quickly grabbed and pulled you by the thighs towards the edge. The way he slid you across the bed, this easy and a little roughly, took your breath away and was definitely a big turn-on for you. He leaned over, slipped his fingers into the hem of your panties and pulled them down your thighs too roughly, tearing your lace panties, but neither of you cared at that moment.

“I want to taste you, all of you,” he growled, and brought his mouth back to your core.

Thanks to this position you were completely exposed to his wanting mouth, and he fucking knew it, his fingers back inside your cunt, mouth insistently sucking on your clit.

"Shit!" You loudly exclaimed, back arching off the bed.

He held you still by the hips with one arm while his other hand kept going, thrusting into your clenching pussy.

One hand gripped the sheets while the other held the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls, closing your eyes in utter ecstasy. The feel of his mouth devouring your pussy was a relentless, powerful pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before - the way he tore through your opening with his appendage, the way his nose bumped and his mustache tickled, the way his lips found their way to suck so sweetly on your clit. And God, the way it sounded - you would feel pretty embarrassed if you weren't overwhelmed by pure lust-, you were soaking his face, but neither of you cared enough to stop.

You forced your eyes to open, you didn't want to miss out on memorizing him kneeling before you, eating you out. The moment you managed to look at him, you realized it was a mistake.

He was looking at you.

At your face.

Your eyes.

Taking in your reactions. And goddamn, his eyes, were completely blown away in lust. He was more than enjoying having you all over his mouth. “Fucking delicious,” he grunted, diving his fingers back in.

It was your undoing.

You could feel yourself silently screaming with pleasure, your body trembling and mind blank, but for the waves of delight that kept coming through you, he hadn’t stopped his movements despite how tight your cunt gripped his fingers in your end.

"You're gorgeous," he purred, biting your calves and making you yelp. He licked away the sting once he'd marked you. In the haze of the moment, you felt the bed shake and his hands on your back, fingers unclasping your bra.

Before he settled, he took care of the rest of his clothes, impressive girth hard and throbbing and already wet with precum finally out of his pants.

The sight sent you reeling.

“Like what you see?”

Was he kidding?

He was fucking beautiful.

You bit your lip, nodded.

He smirked and was quick to get in position, harsh lips taking your breath away, body pushing you on your back. Holding onto him, you let him open you up, let him guide his cock right to your cunt.

Now the moment was definitely urgent.

He gave it a couple of flicks around your core, then he pushed in. He took you in, your gasp and moan filling the air. When he moved, it was a slow yet sure thrust that had you seeing stars, and you keened.

You mewled, "Yes."

He held you by the cheeks, lips barely a hair's breadth away, while his grip shifted and tightened around your waist.

“You feel so good," he breathed, speaking against the valley between your breasts.

Harsh, hungry hands on your breasts, on all over your skin made your flesh pleasantly crawl. Your breaths mingled when lips melded as one. Small mewls came from your throat while his hips moved against yours. And then he sped his movements while his mouth drank more of you up, the only air you took in his.

The only air he took in yours.

He tightened his grip, surely leaving marks where he groped. Harder, faster, not giving you a chance to take everything in and commit it to memory, he finally angled his hips differently.

“And you are tight, wet, warm,” he added, kissing you again.

When he heard you shout with pleasure, he made sure to keep going at it, hard and fast, so that you couldn't catch your breath, your body tensing up with the force of his hips, his cock stretching your pussy out so deliciously. You helped him by locking your legs behind his back, making him go impossibly deep, throwing your head back in ecstasy. It left your neck bare for his hungry lips and teeth, and he mercilessly marked you with them, soon after meeting your tits with his mouth again, showing them devotion while keep thrusting mercilessly, the sound of flesh against flesh was like a delicious symphony to his moans and groans, and your mewls and moans.

His lips released your breasts and trailed your jaw all the way to your ear. His pace shortened, quickened. So you begged him not to stop, not even thinking about it, and he promised he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not until he felt you gripping hard around his cock, not until he broke you.

He had a promise to fulfill, after all.

He growled the nickname he had given you, with fervor, with passion. He was close, and so were you but, you needed more, needed a bit of a push to send you reeling again. And you weren’t quite sure how, but he found your clit, and stroked it enough to give you just what you needed.

The bastard was an expert.

Your orgasm crashed through you, sight gone into utter darkness, muscles tight with tension released in such a perfect, bittersweet way, raking your nails down his back.

“Fuck,” he cursed loud and long, holding you in place while his own orgasm filled you up to the brim.

The raging fire was now extinguished, its gentle flame still brushing against your veins in slow, tender strokes. It was similar to the way you both touched each other, hands softly trailing up and down wherever they could reach. His touch felt different from before, while yours was a promise of what could be. A whispered kiss. Eyes brimming with post-coital contentment.

That moment was so special—the way all the passionate sounds of love just a moment ago faded into peaceful silence. You couldn’t fight off sleep anymore as he softened and pulled away, collapsing onto the pillow. Before you dozed off, you thought you heard him mumbling something, though you weren't really sure.

If you were more awake, you could have sworn he whispered, “Te amo.”

The morning light poured into the room like liquid gold, seeping through the tall glass panel and gently warming your face. The curtains, drawn only halfway, allowed the sun to flood the entire space, casting a soft, radiant glow that danced on the walls. From your position, you had a breathtaking view of the iconic Eiffel Tower, towering majestically in the distance, a reminder of the enchanting city around you.

You were lying with your back to Harry, and there was something strangely nice about the sound of his breath right behind you. It felt like forever since you’d woken up next to someone.

One of his arms was draped around your waist, resting on the sheet, and his warmth felt like a cozy shield. But even with the calmness of the moment, there was a twist of unease in your stomach. Last night had been incredible, full of passion, but the uncertainty about what was coming next hung over you like a dark cloud.

You were carrying this secret in your heart that felt like a heavy anchor, and you knew you had to face it eventually.

As Harry shifted behind you, his lips brushed against the top of your head. “You were talking in your sleep,” he said quietly.

You were taken aback—how long had he been awake? Wait, did he just say you were talking in your sleep?

“Are you serious?” you asked, curious about what you might have said. “You didn’t get it wrong, did you?”

“I definitely heard my name,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Okay, I didn’t know I even did that,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “Did I say anything else?”

“Sort of, and you even meowed a bit. You’re such a little kitty,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “I think you’re just making that up.”

“Nope, not at all. It was real, just like you did last night. It was like; meow, meow, meow,” he joked, imitating a cat's sound.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Those moments were fresh in your mind—he was right, ugh. You nudged him playfully in the chest.

“Come on. Stop exaggerating.”

“Want me to prove it?”

You gasped as the hand that had been wrapped around you slipped inside the sheet and between your legs.

“Don't, don't, don't, please,” you struggled, squeezing your thighs together with all your strength, resisting. His other hand found your armpit and tickled you, causing you to immediately release the pressure in your thighs.

Oh, that was too much.

He leaned over you and when his hand touched your folds, forcing his fingers inside, your heart began to race.

“Okay, okay, you win! I give up!” you giggled, punching his chest, and he laughed.

He playfully teased you for a little while longer as you both giggled. But then, your eyes met, and suddenly the mood shifted. With his gaze deepening, he leaned in and kissed you, sending a rush of warmth through your body. Just as the moment felt perfect, his phone began ringing. But he didn’t care; he kept kissing you. The kiss broke only when the phone rang insistently. He sat up, grabbed his phone from the bedside table, checked the screen, canceled the call, and tossed it back down.

“Maybe it’s important. Why didn’t you answer?” you asked.

He turned to you, “Nothing is more important than you right now.” He then pulled the sheet off you, and you quickly grabbed it to cover yourself.

“What are you doing?” you asked, surprised.

"We need a shower; we're a bit dirty, don't you think?" he replied, tugging at the sheet again, this time overpowering you.

You felt completely exposed, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. He chuckled, put his knee on the bed, and scooped you up into his lap.

“Stop! I can walk by myself,” you protested.

“Nobody said otherwise,” he grinned.

With a smug look, he carried you to the bathroom, clearly enjoying the moment. The bathroom was huge, with a big jacuzzi, a spacious shower, and a tall vanity cabinet. Harry set you down and followed you into the shower. It was nice that he was giving you so much attention, but it also made things trickier. You didn’t want to say anything that might hurt him, especially since you knew you’d have to come clean eventually. For now, you just had to play along until that moment came when there would be no more secrets.

After you both got out of the shower, he handed you a robe from the closet and slipped one on himself. You asked him to excuse you because you needed to use the bathroom. Finally alone, you settled onto the most luxurious toilet seat you’d ever sat on, putting your head in your hands and thinking. You knew you had to tell him soon; it was better for him to hear it from you directly. The longer this charade went on, the messier things would get. Sooner or later, you’d run into someone who knew -real- Melanie, and that scared you. Before last night, you weren’t worried about that, but everything had changed.

You could feel a strong connection between you two, and it scared you how intense it was.

It just didn’t feel right.

This had to end.

Suddenly, a sharp pang gripped your heart, urging you to stand up. You stood before the mirror, the figure in the robe felt like a stranger, unfamiliar. This life felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. But deep down, a hopeful part of you whispered that this could actually be your life, and that Harry would accept you just as you are.

You really wanted to believe that.

With all your heart.

But this was no time to be naïve; you had to think rationally.

You had to.

You turned on the tap, splashing cold water on your face to shake off the feelings. Just then, you heard a light knock at the door.

“Are you planning to spend the whole day in there?” Harry joked, his tone playful yet warm.

A smile spread across your face and you sighed deeply as you opened the door. Stepping into the room, you saw Harry already dressed in a cream long-sleeved shirt and black jeans - casual yet stylish, which suited him perfectly. As he put on his watch, he looked at you, "Breakfast will be here soon."

“Really? In the room?” you asked, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your excitement. “Yes, in the room.”

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted you two, and you both turned to see Oliver standing there, looking a bit flustered.

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" Oliver asked quickly, his eyes darting over Harry's shoulder to you.

Feeling uneasy under his gaze, you instinctively blushed and stepped further into the room.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.

“Well, I… I was just checking,” Oliver said, his voice trailing off awkwardly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Checking?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “I meant— if you need anything. Oh, and they called, they're expecting you today.”

“Awesome, thanks,” Harry said.

“No problem.”

"Anything else you want to say?"

“N-no, I’ll be in the lobby,” he replied, turning around.

As Harry closed the door behind Oliver, he turned to you, looking lost in thought.

“Is everything okay?”

He shrugged slightly. “It’s just Oliver acting a bit weird. But it’s probably nothing.” He looked at you and asked, “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“It’s just... the dresses you bought are gorgeous, but…” You glanced down at the shreds of your panties on the floor. “I need some new underwear.”

With a cheeky grin, Harry placed his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s my bad. But don’t worry; I’ll fix that.” He went over to the closet and came out with a white shirt. “Here, wear this.”

“But it’s your shirt,” you frowned.

“It is, yes.”

“You want me to wear this?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, still grinning.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got no other option. Unless you want to walk around naked,” he smirked. “I’d be totally cool with that, though.”

You squinted as you took the shirt from him. “You’ll be waiting forever for that to happen.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door. He chuckled as he went to open it.

After enjoying a delightful breakfast on the balcony with a breathtaking view of the city, everything Harry ordered for you arrived in the room. After all, it was he who had torn your panties, so he owed you. You glanced at the bag, and picked up a stylish black lace bra; it was exactly your size.

He was behind you, leaning against the closet with his arms folded and watching.

“How could you possibly know my exact size?” you asked.

He opened his mouth to reply, but you silenced him with a gesture of your hand. “Don't answer that.”

He laughed. “Come on, get dressed. We need to get going.”

You shot him a glare. “Not with you watching—turn around!”

“Seriously?”

“What do you think?”

He frowned. ’I already saw all of you last night, what's the point of hiding it now?’

“That was last night,” you snapped.

He blinked in astonishment, clearly impressed. “You truly are an extraordinary woman.”

"Yes I am. Now turn around, Mr. Castillo,” you said, twirling your finger at him.

He sighed, a little defeated, but gave in. “Fine," he murmured. "But just so you know, tonight I’m going to make you beg me to take your clothes off.”

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing at all,” he replied, a cheeky grin forming. His mind raced with bold ideas, and your attitude and stubbornness only fueled his eagerness.

It was a challenge, and he was ready to accept it.

"Oh my God!"

You almost fainted from excitement as you stared at the sports cars in all their splendor, your mouth agape. The welcoming team at the luxury rental place truly made you feel at ease, sharing in the exhilaration of these remarkable vehicles.

"Are you telling me I can drive one of these beauties if I want to?" you asked, still unable to take your eyes off the amazing cars. A huge smile spread across your face, reminiscent of a child who had just found a stash of candy.

Harry chuckled, "I've gotten you flowers, clothes, jewellery - but I've never seen you so excited about anything"

"I'm sorry, but how could I not be? Just look at them!"

He placed his hand on your shoulder. "So which one are you going to choose? I'm really curious."

Your eyes scanned the lineup until they landed on the car that truly stole your heart. You walked over, gently brushing your hand along the sleek bonnet, and declared, "This one—the Mustang GT500."

"American muscle, huh? Nice choice."

"You mean I can really drive this?"

"That's why I brought you here, kitty," he smiled.

He had listened to your many conversations about cars, enjoying your passion for them. Apparently, he never grew bored of your car talk, and he wanted to surprise you like this.

You felt unworthy of such a thoughtful man

As you gripped the steering wheel of the red Mustang on the track, a huge smile spread across your face - it had been a long time since you had felt this good. Every time you stepped on the gas, the engine roared and you took the corners like a pro, the tyres screeching on the tarmac. Harry looked a little nervous, but he couldn't help praising your driving skills, saying how well you handled the car.

When you reached the end of the track, you lingered for a moment, reluctant to say goodbye to this baby.

"Harry, thank you. That was even more amazing than I could have imagined."

"You've never driven a sports car before?" he asked.

"I have." It wasn’t entirely a lie. You had driven it once—Nate's Lamborghini. It was one of those days when you were cleaning up after Melanie. While Nate was in the backseat making out with her—they were both drunk, and sometimes it turned into lust—yes, it was really shitty and disgusting. But the only good thing about that day was that you got to drive his car. "But not for long."

"I'm glad I made you happy," he replied.

"Yeah, you definitely did. Thanks, Harry." It was the truth. As you looked into his eyes, he leaned in closer and whispered, running his fingers through your hair, "Be mine, and I’ll show up at your place in the morning with any car you want. Just think about it."

"Harry," you murmured.

"Listen, I don't want to pressure you, but I need a clear answer. I'm a straightforward guy—doubt and uncertainty aren't something I handle well. I've waited this long because of this undeniable feeling I have for you. My instincts have never led me astray, and I’m sure they won’t this time either. So tell me, don’t you think it’s about time? Don’t you think I deserve an answer?"

His brown eyes sparkled like gems. You wanted nothing more than to be with him always, to plead with him to never leave and to make you his. But there was something you had to sort out first.

"You deserve so much more," you said, your voice shaking a bit. You took a deep breath."Tonight, I’ll give you my final answer, okay?"

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. "All right," he said, smiling as he brushed his lips over your knuckles.

When you got back to the hotel, it was dark, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were going to deal with tonight. It was making you super nervous. Harry was outside, talking on the phone, while you were in the lobby, buried in the couch and lost in your thoughts. Oliver noticed you were alone and came over to talk to you.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” you replied, caught off guard.

“Look, I found out everything; the dating agency called me.”

You froze.

“Don’t worry, I know it’s not your fault, but this can’t go on. You understand that, don’t you?”

You nodded, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I wanted to talk to Harry, but he’s way too attached to you. I think it’s better if you tell him yourself. He has a reputation to maintain—you know he’s well-known. The longer this goes on, the more it messes with his image. Just tell him before things go further, or I’ll have to, and the head of the matchmaking agency might get involved. And trust me, that’ll hurt him a lot more. He should hear it from you.”

“I’ll tell him, I promise. Tonight.”

“Thank you. Oh, he’s coming. Wipe your tears,” he said, handing you a tissue from the table before standing up.

What?

Were you actually crying?

You took the tissue and quickly dried your eyes, sniffling while trying to pull yourself together.

“Melanie, look who’s here,” you heard Harry’s voice.

You almost had a heart attack when you turned around. Jack, Melanie’s dad, was standing right in front of you with a forced smile that screamed trouble.

“I just ran into Jack,” Harry said, looking at you. But then his face changed as he noticed how frozen you were, shaking a bit. “Are you okay?”

“Harry, can you give me and my daughter a minute?” Jack said, still staring at you.

Harry paused, frowning as he sensed something was wrong. Oliver put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s give them some privacy,” he suggested.

Harry nodded, looking unsure, but his eyes were still on you. “I’ll be in the room,” he said, clueless about what was really going on. He thought it was just a father-daughter thing. You wished it was that simple.

As they walked toward the elevator, Jack made sure they were out of earshot and pointed to the seat behind you. “Why don’t you sit down? We need to talk.”

“Jack, I—”

What were you even going to say?

Damn it.

“Sit down, please.”

You did as he said, and he sat across from you, looking at you. “I know everything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Do you think my daughter has someone handling her secret affairs and I don't know about it?”

Of course, he should have. Jack was smart and clearly one step ahead of you.

“But if you knew—”

“Why didn’t I stop you?” He sighed. “I wanted to handle this when I got back to New York, but then I found out you were here. I was already in Marseille, so I flew in last night to talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him?”

“Harry? I could have, but honestly, it’s embarrassing for me. I’m not mad at you; it’s my dumb daughter who messed everything up. I can only be upset with you for not telling me sooner. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.”

“Jack, I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked.

"No, I don't blame you. But you have to take responsibility for this. You need to finish things with Harry—trust me, it’s for the best. Go talk to him right now and just explain.” He stood up. “I’ll be outside, waiting for you. Just go and do what needs to be done.”

You watched him walk away, your head spinning with thoughts, and didn't even notice Oliver coming over.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"The same thing you told me earlier. He said I should just end things with him."

"Are you going to do it?"

You looked at him, wiping a tear from your cheek with your hand. You nodded firmly.

He nodded back. "He's in the room, waiting for you," he said. You were glad he looked at you like a friend, the last thing you wanted was pity.

You felt enough pity for yourself; you really didn't need any more.

Harry was pouring himself a whisky when his phone rang. He took a sip while glancing at the screen. It was a number he didn’t feel like answering. When it rang again a moment later, he shook his glass, listening to the ice cubes jingle, and finally sighed before picking it up.

“There you are,” said the voice on the other end.

“What do you want, Lucy?”

“Hey, slow down! I’m only calling because I’m worried about you. I just found out what happened; it’s horrible.”

Harry paused, taking another sip. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the mess with the matchmaking company. That’s what you get for choosing someone other than my agency. You should really sue that woman.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? What woman? What mess?”

At that moment, you opened the door and walked in. Harry’s back was turned to you as he was still on the phone. When he heard you come in, he turned to face you, his expression hardening.

"What the... Didn't you know? I'm talking about the girl who pretended to be Melanie Johnson and tricked you. Given your social status, her intentions were pretty obvious. People like her are dangerous; you should get rid of her before something bad happens. Oliver should have informed you by now; I can't believe he didn't. Maybe you need a new assistant. And just so you know, starting a new dating service would be a good idea—something like that would never happen with my---" He hung up angrily, keeping his eyes fixed on you. The intensity of his gaze startled you; you had never seen him like that before.

“H-Harry,” you stammered.

“Is it true?” His voice was cold.

You swallowed hard. Had he found out everything?

He took a step toward you. “Your name isn’t Melanie. Is that true?”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “That’s right. I’m not Melanie Johnson. I’m—”

“Why?” he said, taking another step closer. “Why did you do it? Is this what you’ve been hiding from me? All this time you’ve been lying to my face. But why?”

“Harry, let me explain. I—”

“What a fool I was. I thought there was something special between us. I thought it would be different this time, but it was all a lie.” He seemed to be speaking to himself.

You stepped closer to him. “Let me explain. I am—”

“Get out."

You froze. “W-what?”

His eyes were icy as he looked at you. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out.”

You frowned. “You said you'd listen to me. Why won't you let me explain?”

In a fit of rage, Harry threw his phone against the wall, and it shattered into pieces upon impact. Startled, you watched as he opened the door and pointed outside. “Get out now.”

Frustration bubbled inside you as you fought to suppress the tears threatening to fall. You walked to the door and glanced back at him, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. “I knew you'd break my heart. Thanks for proving me right,” you said in a cracking voice before leaving the suite.

He slammed the door behind you with a loud bang, making you jump, but it only urged you to run toward the lift. You had to get out of there immediately.

You ran out of the lift and hurried to the hotel’s exit. You couldn’t stop sobbing, and people turned to look at you, but you didn’t care. Your mind was spinning; all you wanted was to escape, to disappear forever. Oliver recognized you and started to call your name, but he didn’t even know it. Instead, he just watched as you dashed out through the hotel’s revolving door, then headed to the lift to check on Harry.

As soon as you were outside, you kept running, desperate to get away from the hotel. But after a few minutes, the cold wind hit you, and you realized something terrible: this wasn’t your city, New York; it was a completely foreign place. You didn’t know the streets, didn’t know the people. The short dress you were wearing left your shoulders exposed, and without your coat, you shivered. Passersby looked at you strangely, their gazes lingering on your expensive dress, high heels, flashy necklace, and earrings. You wanted to shout at them, “I’m just an ordinary girl with an empty wallet!”

Suddenly, Jack came to mind; he said he would wait for you outside. “Oh, what an idiot I am,” you thought.

Forcing yourself to ignore the stares, you walked back toward the hotel street, searching for Jack. Where was he? Then, suddenly, you heard a voice behind you. A man spoke to you in French, but it was clear from his tone that he wasn’t friendly.

When Oliver walked into the room, he was shocked to see pieces of a smashed phone and glass all over the floor. Harry had his back turned, staring out the window at the city. Oliver approached him carefully, knowing deep down that his worst fears had come true. Harry caught his reflection in the glass and turned his head slightly.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, sounding frustrated.

Oliver had been expecting the question, but he didn’t know how to answer. “Man, I’m really sorry. I found out yesterday and was going to tell you, but I thought it would be better if she told you.”

Harry turned to face Oliver. “You should have told me, Oliver. I should have heard it from you, not from my ex, dammit.”

“What did you say? Wait a minute, did Lucy call you? God damn it, I thought she was the one who told you.”

“What difference would it have made?” Harry shot back, his voice tinged with anger. “She’s a crook—a serpent in disguise who’s deceived me all this time. How did she pull it off? She even fooled Jack. What exactly was her scheme? Is she a gold-digger or something?”

“What do you mean? She didn’t give you the full story? They spoke to Jack, and she was supposed to fill you in.”

“Does she know him?” Harry asked incredulously, disbelief etched on his face.

“Of course she does. She’s working as a housekeeper at his house. Jack’s daughter, Melanie, forced her into this. The real Melanie didn’t want to meet you face-to-face, so she used her friends to hack the system. Jack must have been too embarrassed to come down here himself. But like me, he wanted her to tell you—”

In a sudden burst of emotion, Harry seized Oliver’s collar, their eyes locked in an intense stare. “What did you just say? What do you mean she was forced?”

“You heard me. The poor girl is like Melanie's puppet; she had no choice in the matter. It’s all part of a twisted game to keep you from marrying Melanie I guess. She’s trapped in it.”

Time seemed to freeze for Harry as he absorbed the weight of Oliver’s words. “What have I done?” he muttered himself, his heart ached.

“But I thought she told you. Didn’t she?”

Harry shook his head, his heart sinking. “She was going to, but I lost it—I was furious, and—”

“Dude... What have you done?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, a wave of regret crashing over him, as if he were drowning in his own foolishness. “I told her to get out,” he muttered.

“Geez, isn’t that a bit harsh? No wonder she ran out of here in tears."

He shot Oliver a sharp look, panic flashing across his face. “What? Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She just bolted from the hotel and disappeared into the streets."

Harry's gaze darted to the coat abandoned on the chair, a symbol of the moment he now regretted. He snatched it up, determination igniting within him, and rushed toward the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Oliver called out, his voice filled with worry.

“I’m going to find her!” Harry shouted back, his heart racing as he sprinted toward the elevator, desperate to make things right.

“Look, dude, I don’t get your language. Just back off, alright?”

But the guy kept closing in on you. You didn’t need to understand him to figure out what he wanted. As you stepped back, your heel caught on the cobblestone, and you went down. At that moment, a fancy car pulled up, and a man got out and walked over to you while the other guy turned around and took off. The man in the suit offered you his hand.

“Are you a New Yorker too?” He smiled.

You took his hand and got up. “Yeah, you too?”

“Yeah. I heard your accent when you told that guy to ‘back off.’”

You chuckled nervously, saying, “He really freaked me out; he was coming right at me.”

“But you were ready to fight him. I guess it’s not the first time you’ve had to run from creeps, right?” he replied with a grin.

“True,” you laughed. “There were definitely some in New York.”

He chuckled and offered his hand again. “I’m Alan.”

You shook his hand. “Thanks, Alan.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

Just then, someone called your name from behind. You turned and saw Jack.

About time. You felt a wave of relief wash over you.

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you! Where have you been?” He was worried.

“I—I got lost and—”

“Jack?”

“Alan!”

They hugged, and you were surprised to see that they knew each other. Jack turned to you and said, “You get in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

You nodded and did as he instructed. Alan watched you intently while getting into the car, then turned to Jack.

“I thought you were in Marseille,” Alan said.

“I was, but then I came here. I had some urgent matters to take care of,” Jack replied.

“Is this pretty lady your daughter or something?” Alan asked.

Jack sighed. “I wish she were, but no. Let’s just say she’s someone I know. Listen, Alan, I really have to go now. See you.”

“See you, man,” Alan responded.

Jack hopped into the car beside you and instructed the driver to head to the airport, where his private jet was waiting to take you back home. Your phone buzzed insistently; it was Harry calling -actually it was Oliver's number but you knew it was him-.

You ignored all the calls.

“Do you have feelings for him?” Jack asked, his tone direct yet gentle.

You looked straight at him, then averted your gaze, unable to deny the truth in your heart. He picked up on the unspoken words and nodded slowly.

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t go there if you care about yourself, you silly girl.”

You nodded.

“What about him? Do you think he has feelings for you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. Even if he did at one point, he doesn’t anymore.”

Jack nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened. But when we get back, I can’t let you work in my house anymore. You understand why, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” you murmured.

“I want you to know I’ll provide a good severance package for all your service up to now and for everything you’ve been through. If you ever need help in the future, you know my number.”

Jack was hot-tempered but had a noble soul. He considered those he trusted as family, regardless of their social status. You looked at him, feeling grateful.

“Thank you, Jack,” you said with a smile.

He nodded. “Sure.”

All the while, your phone was ringing insistently, and you were ignoring Harry’s calls.

Why the hell was he calling?

Did he want to curse at you or something?

Finally, Jack held out his hand. “Give it to me; let me talk to him.”

You hesitated at first, but eventually, you handed it over. As he spoke on the phone, you looked out the window, feeling nervous about hearing his voice.

"Harry, it's Jack. Please stop calling her; I will be your point of contact on this matter from now on. I'd like to invite you to an apology dinner when you return to New York, and I'm willing to provide compensation as well. I'll be in touch with you soon." Then he hung up.

“Damn it, Jack,” Harry snarled.

He stood in front of the hotel’s front door, then something glittering on the floor caught his attention. He bent down and picked it up; it was one of your earrings—the one he had given you as a present.

“She must have dropped it while running,” he muttered.

Oliver came running toward him from across the street, panting. “They saw Jack leaving, but I couldn’t find any trace of the girl. Did you manage to reach her?”

Harry continued to stare at the earring in his hand. “Ollie.”

“Yeah?”

“Call the pilot; we’re heading back to New York.”

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melanchoire · 2 months ago

Text

UNLOCKED DOOR, LOCKED HEART ──── yu jimin.

── ( 🩷 ) years after being falsely accused of perversion, you walk in on your unclothed girlfriend, forcing you to confront your ingrained anxieties and rewrite a narrative defined by shame and misunderstanding.

pairing. soft dom!girlfriend!karina x sub!loser!fem reader

warning(s). cunnilingus, nipple play, praise titsucking.

word count. 3,4k

author's note. the request for this fic is right here.

the scent of jasmine and something vaguely expensive clung to the air as you stood outside karina’s apartment building. you pressed the buzzer, the metallic chime echoing in the sterile lobby. “hey, babe! door’s unlocked, come on up!” you take a deep breath, smoothing down the front of your shirt. this is it. you’re going to karina’s apartment, again. it’s been six months since you two started dating, and your heart still does a little flutter every time you see her name on your phone.

you push open the heavy glass door of the building and step into the opulent lobby. everything about karina’s life is opulent. her clothes, her car, this building… it’s a far cry from the cramped apartment you share with two roommates. you’ve never felt particularly envious of her wealth, but it does occasionally highlight the differences between you. you, the quiet, reserved girl with a past you’d rather forget, and her, the radiant, effortlessly charming social butterfly who seems to glide through life without a care.

the elevator ride is short, but your palms are already starting to sweat. the polished chrome reflected your anxious face back at you, the faint fluorescent light highlighting the shadows under your eyes. you always felt like an imposter in karina’s world, a world of sleek modern architecture, designer clothes, and effortless confidence. you, on the other hand, felt like a faded photograph, a relic from a past you desperately wanted to forget.

you step out onto the plushly carpeted hallway and find karina’s door ajar, just as she said. taking another deep breath, you push it open further and step inside.

“karina?” you call out hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper.

no answer. you close the door behind you and step further into the apartment. it’s even more breathtaking inside than you remember. floor–to–ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, and the furniture looks like it belongs in a magazine.

that’s when you see her.

karina was standing in the living room, a goddess sculpted from steam and silk. her skin, flushed from the shower, glowed under the soft light. water droplets clung to the ends of her dark hair, cascading down her shoulders. and she was completely, breathtakingly naked.

your breath catches in your throat. time seems to warp and distort. you feel a jolt of panic, a cold wave washing over you that threatens to pull you under. she hasn’t seen you yet, still reaching for a fluffy white towel on the armchair.

she turned, a wide smile gracing her lips. “hey! i just hopped out of the shower.” she reached for a plush towel lying on the arm of the sofa, casually wrapping it around herself, but the image was already seared into your mind.

but you’re not smiling. you’re not even breathing properly. your breath hitched. the world seemed to tilt on its axis. a familiar panic surged through you, cold and clammy. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to see this.

the memories slammed into you like a tidal wave. the whispers, the snickers, the pointed fingers in the hallways of your high school. the accusations thrown at you like stones, the constant feeling of being watched, judged, and found wanting. “lesbo.” they’d hissed, “pervert.” you’d become a pariah overnight, defined by a sexuality you hadn’t even fully understood yet. every glance felt like an accusation, every touch a potential violation.

you had become meticulously careful, hyper–aware of your surroundings, of your own body, of the invisible boundaries you felt compelled to erect. you avoided the women’s locker room like the plague. you walked with your head down, trying to disappear into the background. you flinched at casual touches.

and now, here you were, confronted with something so raw, so intimate, that it shattered the fragile peace you had painstakingly constructed.

karina’s smile faltered as she saw the look on your face. her brow furrowed with concern. “hey, are you okay? you look… pale.” she took a step towards you, her voice soft and gentle.

every nerve ending in your body is screaming at you to run, to disappear. you stumble backward slightly, your hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob. “i… i should go," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

you can’t speak. your throat is constricted, your lungs refusing to cooperate. you shake your head weakly, trying to communicate the unexplainable knot of anxiety that has taken root in your chest. shame burns in your cheeks. you’re supposed to be her girlfriend, not a frightened child.

karina closes the distance between you, her eyes filled with genuine worry. she reaches out and takes your hands, her touch warm and grounding. you flinch slightly, but she doesn’t let go.

“hey, look at me.” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s okay. it’s just me. you’re safe here."

her words, simple as they are, cut through the fog in your mind. you open your eyes and focus on her face, on the genuine concern etched in her features. she’s not judging you, not laughing, not disgusted. she’s just… worried.

“i… i…”you stammer, struggling to find the words. “i’m sorry. i just… i panicked."

karina squeezes your hands. “it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to explain. just breathe with me."

she demonstrates, taking a deep, slow breath and holding it for a moment before releasing it. slowly, laboriously, you start to breathe again. the panic begins to recede, replaced by a heavy wave of exhaustion. you lean into karina’s touch, drawing strength from her presence.

karina’s expression softened, becoming even more tender. she understood. somehow, she understood. “hey, it’s okay," she soothed, reaching for your hand. her fingers were warm and reassuring against your cold skin. "it’s okay. come here.”

she led you to the sofa, gently guiding you to sit down. she knelt in front of you, her eyes filled with compassion. “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

finally, you manage to find your voice. “i… i have some bad experiences…” it comes out barely audible.

karina waits patiently, not pushing you to elaborate.

you take another deep breath and begin to tell her. you tell her about high school, about the casual cruelty and the constant fear of being exposed. you tell her about the rumors and the whispers, the feeling of being ostracized and vilified for something you couldn’t control–something you didn’t even fully understand then. you tell her about the locker room incident, the false accusations, the feeling of being branded as a pervert. you tell her about the years of hypervigilance, the constant anxiety that still lingers in the back of your mind.

as you speak, karina listens intently, her eyes never leaving your face. there’s no judgment in her gaze, only compassion and understanding. when you finally finish, breathless and emotionally drained, she pulls you into a warm embrace.

karina listened patiently, her gaze never wavering. when you were finished, she reached out and brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “oh, honey.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i had no idea. i’m so sorry you went through that. you didn’t deserve any of that."

you looked down, ashamed. “i should have told you.” you mumbled. “i didn’t want you to think… think i was like that.”

karina cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her eyes. “hey.” she said firmly. “look at me. i don’t think that. i’d never think that. i know you. i know you’re kind and gentle and wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

her words were like a balm to your wounded spirit. you felt a tiny spark of hope flicker within you. maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust again. maybe, with karina, you could finally let go of the fear that had haunted you for so long.

“you know you can always tell me anything, right?” she says softly. “i’m here for you, always. and i’d never, ever judge you.”

you nod, tears streaming down your face. “i know.” you whisper. “it’s just… hard."

“i understand.” she says, wiping away your tears with her thumbs. “but you don’t have to go through it alone anymore. i’m here to help you carry that weight."

she leaned in and kissed you, a soft, tentative pressure against your lips. it was a chaste kiss, a promise of something more. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment.

her lips parted slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. your instincts screamed at you to pull away, to run back to the safety of your own world. but something held you back. the warmth of her touch, the sincerity in her eyes, the unwavering belief she had in you.

you tentatively kissed her back, your movements clumsy and unsure. you had karina really kissed anyone before, not like this. karina seemed to sense your hesitation and took the lead, guiding you with gentle hands.

her tongue traced the curve of your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. you opened your mouth slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss. the world around you faded away, replaced by the sensation of her soft lips on yours, the warmth of her breath against your skin.

your hands, still trembling, reached up and tentatively touched her face. her skin was soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. she moaned softly against your lips, and you felt a surge of heat course through your body.

you didn’t know what you were doing. you were completely lost, adrift in a sea of new sensations. but you knew that you wanted this. you wanted her.

karina broke the kiss, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “easy there.” she teased, her voice breathy. “we have all the time in the world.”

she took your hands in hers and placed them on her waist. “like this.” she murmured, her voice husky. “feel my body. let yourself enjoy it.”

your hands trembled as you explored the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. you felt her shiver beneath your touch, and a thrill of power coursed through you.

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll teach you everything you need to know. by the time i’m done with you, you’ll be a pro at making girls scream in ecstasy.”

she crooked a finger at you, beckoning you closer. “come here, sweetheart. let me show you how to touch me…”

as you approached, karina took your hand and guided it to her breast, encouraging you to squeeze the soft flesh. her nipple pebbled under your palm, the rosy bud begging for attention.

“start by worshipping my tits.” she instructed breathily. “use both hands, don’t be shy. get acquainted with every inch of them.”

not knowing what to do really, you slowly take her breasts in your hands, feeling the weight of them on your palms. “they’re… uhm, nice.”

karina let out a soft moan as your hesitant hands cupped and squeezed her breasts, your touch sending pleasant shivers through her. she covered your hands with her own, guiding you to knead and caress the ample mounds with more confidence. she reached up and showed you how to circle her stiff nipples with your thumbs, applying a teasing pressure. another breathy moan escaped her lips as you clumsily mimicked her actions.

“mmmh yes, just like that, baby. you’re a natural.” she encouraged breathlessly, her back arching slightly to push her chest further into your touch. “don’t be shy. grab them tighter, pinch and pull at my nipples. i want to feel that cute mouth of yours all over them too.”

she released your hands and leaned back, watching you intently through half–lidded eyes darkened with lust. your fingers found her nipples, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. karina gasped and bit her plump lower lip, looking utterly debauched.

“that’t it, baby. now, lean down and put your mouth on them. cover my nipple with your lips and suck, use your tongue to swirl around it.” karina tangled her fingers in your hair, pushing your face further into her cleavage as she arched her back, pressing more of her soft flesh into your mouth. her breath came in short, eager gasps as she felt your inexperienced but enthusiastic exploration of her body.

karina gasped and arched her back slightly as your warm mouth enveloped her sensitive nipple, your tongue beginning to swirl and flick around the hardened nub. she tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you suckled and lapped at her breast. “oh fuck yes—, just like that.” she purred, pushing your head more insistently against her chest. “suck on my tits, baby. put that pretty mouth of yours to work.”

as you tentatively suckled and licked at her nipple, karina squirmed beneath you, her arousal growing. she held your head in place, encouraging you to lavish attention on her breasts.

“you’re a quick learner.” she praised breathlessly. “keep going, baby. use more of your tongue, flick it against the tip. make me feel good.” she pushed your head down, encouraging you to take more of her breast into your mouth. her other hand came up to grope and knead the neglected mound, pinching and rolling the nipple between her fingers.

karina’s thighs began to tremble slightly, a dampness building between them as your inexperienced but eager ministrations stoked the fires of her arousal. she could feel her pussy throbbing, aching to be touched and filled.

she released your hair and tapped your chin, urging you to lift your head and look at her. “do you want to learn how to make a girl feel good?”

she sat up and spread her legs wider, revealing her glistening folds. the scent of her arousal was stronger now, filling your nostrils and making your head spin with desire.

“come closer, baby. get on your knees.” karina commanded, her voice low and breathy. she used two fingers to spread herself open, exposing her pink, pulsing hole. “start by kissing up my thigh, nice and slow. get me nice and worked up.”

her eyes locked with yours, burning with lust and hunger. she licked her lips, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. “then find my clit with that clever tongue of yours. suck and lick it just like you did my nipples. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

karina leaned back on her elbows, her chest heaving with anticipation. her eyes never left yours as she waited for you to obey her command and begin your sensual journey up her thigh.

karina shuddered as your soft lips trailed kisses along her inner thigh, your mouth leaving a path of tingling heat in its wake. she let out breathy little moans and sighs, her fingers curling in your hair as you worked your way steadily upward.

“oh fuck, baby.” she whimpered, squirming slightly. “your mouth feels so good. don’t stop, baby. keep going until you reach the top.”

as you drew closer to her glistening center, the musky scent of her arousal intensified, filling your senses and making your head swim with desire. your heart raced as you caught sight of her swollen, slick folds, just begging to be tasted.

karina spread her legs even wider, giving you full access to her most intimate area. she used two fingers to spread herself open, revealing her pink, pulsing hole and the stiff little bud at the apex.

“go on, sweetheart.” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “find my clit with that hot little mouth of yours. suck on it, lick circles around it. make me feel good."

her chest heaved with anticipation, her full breasts rising and falling rapidly. she gazed down at you with hooded, lust–filled eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. the air between your face and her dripping sex was charged with electric tension, the promise of pleasure hanging heavy.

karina let out a sharp gasp as your tongue made contact with her sensitive flesh, her hips bucking slightly at the sudden jolt of pleasure. she tangled her fingers tighter in your hair, holding you firmly in place as she grinded your face against her dripping sex.

“fuck yes—!" she cried out, her head falling back against the couch cushions. “just like that, baby. suck on my clit. put that wicked little tongue to work.”

spurred on by her encouragement, you focused your attention on the stiff little bud, circling it with the tip of your tongue before suckling gently. you swirl your tongue around the stiff bud, flicking and teasing it mercilessly. karina’s thighs trembled and clenched around your head, her arousal coating your chin and dripping down your neck. you could feel her pulse racing beneath the slick skin as you lapped and suckled greedily.

“your tongue feels incredible.” karina panted, her hips undulating in time with the strokes of your tongue. “don’t stop, sweetheart. lick up all my juices. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

you delved your tongue deep into her fluttering channel, fucking her with the slick muscle as you continued to suckle her clit. karina’s moans grew louder and more desperate, her grip on your hair tightening painfully. the obscene sound of your slurping and sucking filled the room, mingling with her wanton cries.

“yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, i’m gonna come!” she nearly screamed, her body tensing and quaking. “make me come on that pretty face. don’t stop!”

karina’s body went rigid, her back arching sharply off the couch as her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. she threw her head back and let out a guttural, primal scream of ecstasy, her inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around your plunging tongue.

“oh shit, yes! i’m coming so hard!” she wailed, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin. her fingers pulled harshly at your hair, holding you in place as she ground her spasming sex against your face, riding out the intense waves of her orgasm.

you continued to lap and suckle at her sensitive flesh, prolonging her pleasure as her honey gushed into your mouth. the taste of her essence was intoxicating, sweet and tangy, addictive in its uniqueness. you couldn’t get enough, greedily swallowing every drop as it coated your tongue.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, karina collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving and glistening with a sheen of sweat. she went limp beneath you, her thighs falling open and her legs dangling over the edge of the couch. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, a blissed out smile on her kiss–swollen lips.

“oh my god.” she panted, her voice ragged and hoarse. “that was… fuck, that was incredible. you’re a natural at eating pussy.”

she reached down and stroked your cheek with a trembling hand, smearing some of her juices across your skin. her touch was gentle, almost reverent, as she gazed at you with a mixture of awe and lust.

“did i do it right? was it good?”

karina grinned wickedly as you came up for air, her eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, her tongue plundering your mouth and tasting herself on your lips.

“good? baby, you were fucking incredible.” she purred against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. “I haven’t come that hard in a long time.”

she rolled you both over so that you were lying on top of her, your breasts pressing against hers. karina’s hands roamed your back, squeezing and caressing your curves as she held you close.

“i knew you were a keeper from the moment i first saw you.” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “such a sexy little thing, with your pretty face and hot body. i’m so glad i made a move on you.”

her hands slid down to grope your ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling your hips flush against hers. you could feel the heat of her skin, still flushed and tingling from her intense orgasm. karina’s eyes flashed with renewed lust as she gazed up at you, a devilish grin on her face.

“you know, we’re just getting started, sweetheart.” she said with a wicked chuckle. “i’ve got so much more in store for you. tonight is going to be a long, pleasurable experience. i’m going to take away your fear of being around girls."

#yu jimin #yu jimin x fem reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin smut #yoo jimin #yoo jimin x fem reader #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin smut #karina #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #karina smut #aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut

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rafesgreasycurtainbangs · 15 days ago

Note

seeing pregnant!reader as a pogue so she probably stresses over bills and doesn’t have much support especially during her pregnancy. so rafe spots a mason jar full of her tips labeled “for baby” and he gets like upset over the fact his baby mama isn’t taking care of herself at all especially during this time in her life

༄｡° “for baby” - rafe cameron

series masterlist

Rafe had never been the type to care about money—at least, not in the traditional sense. The things that came easy to him, like his family’s wealth or connections, had never really been a priority. But seeing you, in this fragile state—pregnant, struggling, stressed—made him feel something he hadn’t felt before. A sense of responsibility that went beyond just the two of you.

He was sitting on your couch, scrolling through his phone when he heard the sound of the shower running in the next room. It was early in the afternoon, and you’d been in there for a while. Rafe knew you’d had a rough morning, battling the piles of unpaid bills scattered across your kitchen counter, the ones that you kept telling yourself you’d get to, even though you never did. He had seen the stress in your eyes, heard the catch in your voice when you’d talked about how much you hated asking for help, how much you hated feeling like you were failing.

Rafe didn’t want to press you, didn’t want to make you feel any more stressed, but something inside him was churning, something that only seemed to intensify as the minutes passed. He needed to know you were okay, especially during the pregnancy.

After a moment, Rafe stood up and wandered into the kitchen, his eyes instinctively going to the small mason jar on the counter. The jar was filled with crumpled dollar bills and coins, some tips you’d saved up over time. He recognized it immediately—the “For Baby” label written on a piece of tape that was crooked but still legible. His stomach twisted.

He walked over and picked it up, holding the jar in his hand like it was a ticking time bomb. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—the fact that you had to resort to saving tips just to buy things for the baby, or the fact that you had so little faith in yourself that you thought this was the best way. You didn’t even want to ask for help. It hit him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. This wasn’t just about the baby—it was about you. You were clearly not taking care of yourself.

His jaw tightened as he tried to calm the rush of emotions surging in him. He didn’t know how to help you with this. He didn’t even know what you needed, aside from support—and maybe, that was the thing he’d been avoiding all along. He was so used to being the one that people didn’t depend on, that he didn’t know how to let himself be the person who took care of someone else—especially you.

He was still holding the jar when you stepped out of the bathroom, your wet hair dripping down your back, a towel wrapped tightly around your body. The sight of you, so beautiful but so worn down, only made his chest ache more.

You froze when you saw him standing there, his face unreadable as he looked down at the jar in his hands.

“Rafe?” you asked softly, feeling the tension settle between you both.

He didn’t immediately answer, just set the mason jar down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. He looked at you, his eyes dark, a flicker of concern mixed with frustration.

“You’re not taking care of yourself,” he said, his voice low but charged with emotion. “You can’t keep doing this, y/n.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words, the unspoken accusation. You’d never meant to hide the jar from him, but in a way, it had felt easier to keep it private. Like a part of you could still hold onto your independence if you did it alone.

“I—I don’t have a choice,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just ask for help, Rafe. I don’t want to be a burden.”

He shook his head, his frustration boiling over. “You are a burden to me when you don’t let me help you. You think this is easy for me to see? You’re carrying my child, and you’re over there worrying about pennies instead of your health. What kind of a father would I be if I didn’t step up?”

You flinched at his words. He wasn’t wrong, but it still felt like you were failing in some way. Your eyes watered as you looked down at the floor, unsure of what to say.

“Look at me,” Rafe said softly, taking a step closer to you. You didn’t want to, but you did, lifting your eyes to meet his. His expression had softened, but his voice was still laced with concern. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve never been alone in this.”

“I’m trying,” you said, your voice breaking as the tears finally fell. “I just—I just want to be able to do it myself. I want to be strong enough for the baby… for you.”

Rafe’s hands reached out, cupping your face gently. “You don’t have to do it all on your own, baby. That’s not what I’m here for. You are strong, but you don’t have to keep pretending that you’re okay when you’re not. Let me help you.”

You felt the vulnerability in his words, the sincerity that you had never quite believed from anyone else in your life. The thought of letting someone in—of letting him in—had always been so difficult, but maybe that was the piece you had been missing. Maybe you didn’t have to do everything alone.

“I just don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered, your head falling to his chest.

“You’re not a burden,” he said, his voice gentle as he held you close. “You never were.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you. “Let me take care of you, okay? Let me do this for you.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders, even as the reality of everything still hung in the air. But for the first time, you didn’t feel like you were carrying it all on your own. And maybe that was the first step in learning how to let someone else share the load.

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4mrplumi · 2 months ago

Text

( crow choir. entry two) ── ravens hiding in a shoe ( m.s | prev/next )

IMPORTANT author’s note at the end.

note: this entry is entirely re-written. you can read the first, now “non-canon” version here. events there do not apply to the current story.

crashed out on the couch with some abysmally boring show on the tv and the filthy humidity of your apartment is exactly how you expected to spend the week. your phone’s acting all funky while you scroll through a net-tabloid about oliver green with a plastic pen in your mouth, the cracked blue paint on it crumbling onto your lips.

you’ve long since tuned out the annoying buzz from the faulty lights in the corridor, the sound of them breaking through your door like the thieves that take cover at your place often, and you have to set your overheating phone down for a moment before you get up and wipe a hand against your face.

shortly after turning nineteen, you’d moved out with less than a word to anyone, figuring they’d piece together your whereabouts if they really needed to. and you doubt they do, since you’ve been living in genuine, peaceful, boring simplicity for a few months now. as peaceful and boring as it gets in gotham anyway.

you don’t have many friends, have a side job at a corner-store that gets robbed habitually on tuesdays and fridays, and have to shoo away loud kids playing at the front like an old man. it’s absurdly mundane, and you can’t help but calm down from your raucous everyday doings.

you’re finding peace in the silent shadows that you used to fear as a little kid, basking in them to make up for the lack of sun in the city. the more you grow older, the more you change. it’s expected of course, but it must be odd to not have anything really stopping you from ever-continuous change. some kids had parents doting over them turning into teenagers, teasing mood swings and scolding more often. some parents teared up when their kid turned old enough to be called an adult, feeling eighteen years slip through their fingers like sand. you don’t have a mother to wipe your tears or a father who wants to pat you on the back for a job well done.

growing up in the wayne manor is an experience envisioned as boundless privilege, written about in absurd fictions by wealth-worshipping teenagers from other cities, and scorned by the angrier lot of the unfortunate here in gotham. and you suppose it is. it is a privilege, and much different from the life you’d been living before. you guess you’ve payed your due for living so selfishly in that luxury by being ignored all your time there. you know your siblings also pay for that privilege, in more difficult, harsher ways, with fists and feet and rods and ropes.

changing, changing, changing. you think that for now, you’ve stopped changing, thinking back to the numerous times your mentality morphed to your surroundings like an asocial chameleon. when you were very young, freshly twelve and thrown into a house with your real father and a permanent family, you hated them. detested them even. you’d scowl and hiss at any glance from a brother, any dignitary waving at you at a gala and even the greenhouse plants that withered upon your arrival in dismay. you hated your fathers ploys at power and sauntering smiles, the skin with which he shook official hands and the pearly teeth with which he grinned. you hated richard’s comforting nod, and the way tim talked to guests, the way alfred always knew and the way bruce never did.

but you softened. you matured, is that the word? you saw them in a warmer light after hearing a girl squabble and wail at her patient father at the park and thought with a surging need, you wanted that too. so you smoothened out your frayed ends, stitched together competency. it would be hard to raise yourself to your brothers’ level, but you could try. among the chaos of being bruce wayne, being batman, being father and being vigilante, you’d resolved to be a beacon of peace for them.

but what beacon could you have hoped to be, if your light was so dull?

they didn’t ignore you, no. your father’s eyes glazed over you, like the block of your body was an insignificant dot among many others. like you were a clear champagne glass, like the ones served at his galas, to be nursed all throughout the event, but never indulged. you’re lucky others loosen themselves at drinks though, because you’d manage to craft quite a respectable social image among his associates and guests. grayson junior, an old lady draped in large, large pearls, had laughed, a charming little thing with only half his enthusiasm. a washed out, non-temperamental, unfeelingly warm version of your eldest brother. a stain of what he was, and a poor attempt at following his example.

but you twitched smiles through backhanded compliments about your inheritance in the family, the ushering prods at you to speak to your father about a deal (you’d never even dream to) and various vain offences made a speciality by gotham’s elite class. you’d endured all of that with half the mind to sock those prudish grins right off, so that your father would recognise your discipline and nod at you. he never even looked.

and after attempts after attempts after attempts at harbouring their favour, to grasp onto this life and make the best of it, never let go, you destroyed the little smudge of any real anger you ever had. you were reduced to a plain slate, an unused blackboard, a project in the making. you had no end goal, however, no final version. ever-changing.

you began to resent them, once more. miserably sulking over “how could they?”s and then, “how dare they!”s. you took to meaner methods of nagging for their attention. always being at the scene of some altercation at school, having prodded or initiated a fight between people was just a perfect look. you could justify any slight guilt at seeing bleeding lips curved into bruised scowls directed to you by thinking, your friends were much worse! so there’s really nothing wrong. those guys are odd anyway, they had it coming. but even that changes, and you once again erode to nonchalance.

your friends, however, do not change, redirecting their focus from messing around at school to sneaking into bars and clubs with comically fake ids, slipping into petty crime and street-fighting, racking up tickets on their profiles like medals. but you didn’t leave them, no, you were attached. forget rose-tinted glasses, yours were bright, hot, pink, finding a way to justify just about every brawl they stuck up, every man they mugged and every shot they downed while being well under the right age to. but gotham’s an odd place, it’s not too absurd to see a bunch of scrappy fifteen year olds running about with forks and foxes in their hair.

and you stayed this way, morbidly going through long, lonely days of watching your siblings live a life entirely parallel to yours. an ache that carved down from your chest and across the first bones of your ribs became a permanent one, and your throat would sting far too often to be considered normal. you’d kick and scream and fight with anyone you could, breaking into gushing tears the second they looked away. always conflicted and always changing, it messed with you, especially with no one to tell.

your family would be out at night, fighting the very same thugs that your friends are turning to become, all while you languished through the day counting bills and reading licenses off the wallets they pocket. after particularly violent exchanges, you couldn’t even look at the warmth that radiated off of bruce’s hand on damian’s shoulder, dick’s grin at tim or cassandra’s strange card game with duke. you couldn’t want to be a part of them, because you knew that maybe, you never would be.

yes, they have bigger problems. and yes, you blend perfectly into the blur of all the hooded and masked faces of gotham, and yes, you never do any real harm. but you can’t imagine being caught, returning to such unpleasant ways of life despite being given a hand at the one offered to you on a gold-plated platter. guilt and pride fought with their fists in your head, the second beaming at the idea of their surprise and notice if you ever made a mark, and the first ashamed at the thought of it at all. but you couldn’t live this life.

so when it got too heavy, you made the quick decision to leave. you’ve been changing so much, doing so much. moving out of the manor with all the necessary legal requirements was the tamest of them. you made all the proper requirements, choosing to call alfred after you moved out with just the slightest hesitance, worrying that he’d snitch you out in a way that doesn’t seem right. doesn’t justify your decisions.

and it’s after your budding malevolence for the lame-vigilantism stream of gotham’s legality is relocated from the estate’s concrete, and into the plywood of your apartment, can you really feel satisfied with yourself. when you hide a scrambling girl with a gun in her sleeve from the officer that knock on your door a minute later, can you feel satisfied.

admittedly, it is petty to be harbouring the same small-time criminals your family tries to turn over, but who cares? your friends are among the lot, those who couldn’t escape gotham’s gravity and leave, coming through your door with botched noses and empty barrels, and you wouldn’t turn them over. especially not to people who turned you away. there’s an ebb of sadness, a doubt that asks if you could have turned out different, and you squash it with the joy you get at seeing the vexed silhouettes of the caped crusaders perched on terraces from your window.

and with a tremendous stretch and a yawn, you pull yourself and your stiff joints out of thought, going to open the main door after a squealing notification from a regular visitor asking you to open the door. the people behind the door change, but at least they always come back.

it was troubling to say the least, when alfred informed bruce of (name)’s relocation. of course, he’d expected at least a little knowledge of it from the kid themselves, but didn’t dwell much on that. according to his accounts and alfred’s motionings, (name) was well and enough the age to own an apartment, own it legally and without trouble, and sludge through the days just fine, since they’d speak regularly with alfred.

he does bristle at your unsaved contact number, noting it from alfred and resolving to call you later. he does however send it to the kids as well, asking them to check in on you incase they haven’t recently. he doesn’t know if they met up with you after you left.

right now, he’s more focused on a little branched out gang that the commissioner, gordon, was troubled with. the week had been relatively quiet, spending patrol through stopping little crimes and such. offering a little assistance wouldn't take up any time, and was a productive way to spend little time too, according to him.

he went through witness files, the crimes all regular, as regular as they get. robberies, violent fights, keying cars (bruce purses his lips at the immaturity) and more. one case however, sticks out. the members of the gang, group even, considering their lower than low presence in the crime world all seemed to disappear right after making turns outside an apartment owned by an elderly estate manager. bruce deduced that it must be their hideout, but couldn’t really risk chasing them in, since the building was well occupied by civilians too and it’d be difficult to figure out their exact residence without prior investigation. not to mention, a little background check assured him that the man running the place was not affiliated with the people gordon was motioning at, other than the fact he presumably (and unknowingly) was housing them.

but what caught his eye was the disappearance of a girl near the same place. a profile by another victim of the gang’s mugging described her as somewhere around twenty years old, or just an exceptionally old looking teenager. according to the poorly kept case files one of GCPD interns, she was not identified among the regulars, and did not leave the building like the rest of them.

the whole thing was very mundane, low-profile, and her disappearance could also be swept away as just a reconsideration of career choices on her behalf. a new member, who decided quickly she didn’t want to be a part of it all. of course, that’s rarely ever the case in gotham, and could very well set a stage for a suspected murder, kidnapping.

first things first, simply a checkout of the place should be enough to confirm any further decisions that he’d tell gordon to carry through. in the meantime, he ought to check in with the league, the asylum, crime alley and nightwing. bruce can be described as paranoid, even if very few people can say it to his face.

he prefers being prepared. if not the strongest or the fastest, he can be the most prepared. maybe, he was prepared for this too.

“(name),” tim sighed, “won’t answer my message.”

bruce had put him to reaching out to his older sibling, over a number he’d spent a few minutes memorising before texting. dick, present at the time, insisted he called, but quit after getting a look.

he leaned over the back of the couch to see, staring into the chat. “let me see,” he prodded, “maybe you’re being too blunt,” tim raised an eyebrow at him, “not everyone can be as persuasive as me, you know”.

tim drake - 21:32

where are you

(name) - 21:43

tim

you moved out right

where’s your address?

(name)

why are you asking?

tim

can’t i?

dick cringed at the screen, exasperated as he asked “really? right in the face like that?”. tim just rolled his eyes, frustrated, a little embarrassed. “just scroll.”

tim - 21:45

sorry

where are you

(name) - 21:56

dude

why do you want 2 know.

tim

bruce wants to know

read

(name)??

read

“very suspicious,” dick proclaimed, poking his shoulder, “i can’t imagine why they wouldn’t tell you. so surprising.” tim frowned, taking his phone back and frowning “look, i tried didn’t i? but if they’re not responding, i’ll have to tell bruce,” he ran a hand through his hair, “i don’t think he’d be much less conspicuous about (name) not telling us their address.”

dick nodded. when he first moved to bludhaven, he’d wanted a start as his own man, without the help of the batman or bruce. maybe (name) wanted the same? tim shouldn’t have said bruce wanted to know, he thinks, could’ve played it off as a “i want to visit". he suggests the thought, only be faced with an awkward smile on tim’s face.

“i don’t know if that’d work,” a short reply, “me and (name) never really talked much. it’d be strange to just butt in like that.”

dick hummed, resting his chin on the couch’s head in thought while he spoke “me and (name) have… talked a bit. send me their number, i could ask,” he elbowed tim’s head gently, joking, “one-up you.”

“you don’t have (name)’s number?”

…

“never had the chance to get it.”

your thumb grows numb from pausing at an awkward position on your phone. stuck on the same chat for about six minutes. two new numbers messaging you on the same day, both from your brothers. you’d assumed it was a new phone from one of the girls, but the first was from tim’s saved contact, his personal one. of course, since you’d read the message, you had to respond, sending in an aloof question mark to dismiss him.

when the second one, an unsaved contact, messaged you with a whole lot of exclamation points after a waving emoji, you’d assumed it was a rebooted number of one of your guys. but no, of all people, it was richard grayson, your older brother. you weren’t daft when he sent in a message asking the exact same thing, your address, saying he “wanted to visit”.

did he take you for an idiot? you know it’s bruce who wanted to know, as stated so bluntly by your little brother. even if he did want to visit, you’d go five floors down hell before letting him come over. a thumbs-down reaction and shutting your phone off did what you wanted it to, slamming a figurative door in his face.

but what makes your whole body go numb and buzzing is when your bell rings. it’s out of habit of course, not a lot of people ring the door unless it’s the landlord or a visitor’s family member, with prior notification first. it could be just one of them, if it wasn’t nine in the evening. the only people who clocked in at this time were your friends, and they never rang the bell.

you peek through the keyhole, and your breath stills. it’s then when you back up from the door, cursing as an unnamed objecy clatters to the floor and miraculously, doesn’t break. you can hear the wooden plank of the floor outside tense, and you just know the person outside heard it. you can’t play off a “no one’s home” game this time, and considering who’s behind the door, you don’t assume she’ll leave peacefully.

you have to gather yourself, level your breathing, skim through quick backups depending on whether she’s looking for (name), her sibling, or (name) a crime affiliate. it’s been a minute, and you quell your nervousness, wiping your lips after biting them so hard, to open the door.

cassandra cain looks surprised, and her narrowing eyes make you nervous, even as you lean against the doorway. you pray she doesn’t read through that, giving her the blankest look you can, the same one you give to the neighbours when they come to complain about the noise.

silence. you speak up first.

“cass… andra,” you add, a slight hesitancy when you remember yourself, “hi?”

she tilts her head at you staring up with a look that could be described as innocent, if her lip didn’t unconsciously twitch when you glanced away for a second. gosh, even after having knowledge of her intellect, you’re still messing up. get a hold of yourself.

she drops her arms from where they were crossed, giving you a knowing look. yes, cassandra, i’m here, you want to say after deciphering that glare with a little trouble, holding it back. what’s she here for? you didn’t give anyone even an inkling of your whereabouts. did alfred snitch? but you never told him either. did bruce figure it out? no, you think morosely, you don’t think he’d do all that.

you try to play it off, a hand to your head, staring down with just the slightest feigned frustration, hoping she takes the hint. “look kid,” you say, voice carefully dry, “i’ve got shit to do, you need something?”, with a seconds’ hesitation, a little demeaning comment slipping out of your mouth before you can stop it, habit, “or are you girl scouting for bruce?”

nice. great way to go. not only does she know that you’re purposefully avoiding him but also that you don’t want him to know. your sister is incredibly adamant to being loyal to him, worryingly so, and you know she won’t let it go. you’re no trained mind-reader like her, if you can call it that, but even your heart rate spikes at the subtle tensing in her jaw.

she points at your apartment, careful, slow. and you frown, obviously. no, she can't come in. she drops it, looking away.

silence stretches on before she exhales sharply through her nose, taking a step back. she’s leaving, you understand anxiously. you know she won’t listen to you if you ask, know she won’t answer any of your questions either, but you try anyway.

“going off to tell bruce are you?” she pauses, turning around to face you again. you’re put off, straining the rest of the sentence so it doesn’t sound odd. you want to say, beg, don’t tell him, you want to say, snarl, get out. instead you just draw your shoulders in and return inside, shutting the door. man, you messed up.

bruce is only momentarily distracted by tim and dick’s hushed talking, weary of what they’re up to, before quickly focusing back to the apartment layout he’s handed by the owner of the building, a mister ford, after requesting for it through a burner account. cassandra’s there too, dressed in gear to leave for patrol in a bit, getting a head start before bruce does the same. he’d sent her out to check the place out, maybe set sights on figures she could suspect to be a part of the trouble he was reviewing earlier, time-pass assignments to sludge through the dullness of the evening.

and she comes back with results, circling an east facing room on the third floor on the flat plans. he can’t help but notice a slight moment of hesitance before she does though, turning to bruce with her grimacing full-face cowl, a silent statement. he thinks about asking her, but decides against it. if she’s worried for their safety, thinks them to be innocent, or doesn’t want them caught, she must want it for some reason. he’ll make sure the GCPD knows after sending gordon's intern the file later, in hardcopy via an open window or softcopy through yet another burner account.

but it’s then when he catches a stray hiss from tim, a “just tell him later,” and pulls away from the screen for just a second. “tell me what?” a brief sombre octave to his voice, he knows it’s not wise to leave tim, of all people, hiding something. especially not moments before patrol.

the boy just shrugs, shaking his head, “nothing important,” he lies, “err… bludhaven stuff.” dick blanches, gesturing in a “what the hell?” manner and cassandra inclines her head. bruce sends in the file, before turning around with the slightest frown to his face. if you have something unimportant to say, the unsaid message floats through the room, say it now, before patrol.

before tim can though, dick gets to it first, a hand to his head in perplexed motion; “you know how you told us to check in on (name)?”.

bruce responds plainly, “i asked tim.” dick’s lip turns downwards just a hint as he lets his arm down, “i’m getting to that.”

“(name) didn’t respond to his,” dick jabbed a thumb in tim’s direction, “message, so i tried. won’t answer mine either.”

“so, you don’t know where they are?” bruce finishes for him, a hand yo his chin in thought, “it’s fine, tim, dick, i’ll see to it later. carry on with patrol, and if you have the chance to, look for robin and tell him to return to the cave.”

it’s funny to dick how easily he slips between proper names and aliases, even if the surroundings are occupied only by associates. paranoid, he thinks, uselessly so. cassandra clears her throat, causing everyone to turn to her, glance in her general direction since she's so well hidden.

she points at the screen, the file sent to a contact with the police department’s logo as its profile picture. her voice is soft, but holds a small, uneasy reluctance to it.

“(name) was here.”

oh.

oh?

INTERACTIONS, REBLOGS AND ASKS VV APPRECIATED!!

- woah. re-written entry?? whatever for?? i overestimated myself.. got carried away and derived way off my ideas.

i have plenty things to add and a hollow head full of things to talk about which ill eventually get onto depending on everything. don’t take my characteristics VERY seriously and dont shy away from feedback.

thank you for reading!

# taglist: @cxcilla @strwberryglass @c4xcocoa @yaoizee @secretsandwriting @sirenetheblogger @charlenexoxo1 @mirabilis-polaris @jsprien213 @tfimherewhy @yuyuzi-ling @crazycaoticsimp @m0na-lis4 @trashlanternfish360 @thehammerx4 @ninihrtss @kaitense1

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prythianpages · 19 days ago

Text

Price of Fate | Azriel x Reader

Azriel x Reader | Azriel confronts your father after your sudden disappearance.

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, reader is not really in this (just mentioned), reader is a priestess (but former citizen of the court of nightmares), there will be no part two i'm sorry

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble inspired by Will Turner from Pirates of the Caribbean but it turned out to be around 1K words. Anyway, I just felt like writing something quick & dramatic.

Azriel never cared much for wealth or materialistic things. He never envied the Night Court nobles draped in silk and silver, the lords who played their political games from the safety of their estates while soldiers and citizens bled for their power.

Wealth and status had their uses. Azriel wouldn’t deny that, not after growing up with nothing. But at the end of the day, none of it truly mattered.

What mattered were the people he loved. His mother. His brothers. His friends. His family.

His mate.

You mattered.

And now you were gone.

Taken.

Before he could even tell you who he is to you.

Azriel had walked through his fair share of mansions like this, where the air reeked of old money and arrogance. His shadows hissed as they slithered ahead of him, taking in the paintings that lined the hallway. Painting of ancestors who had never lifted a blade, never spilled blood for the power they hoarded.

The lord of the estate barely looked up as Azriel entered, or rather, barged in. Keir’s right hand man, your father, remained lounging in his high-backed chair. He swirled a glass of deep red wine but as he looked up to meet the shadowsinger’s eyes, his expression morphed into a scowl.

“Have you no manners, boy?” He sneered, spitting out the last word with scorn.

Azriel’s shadows hissed again, growing more restless by the second. They reached your father before he could, wrapping around his wrists and pinning him to his chair. He jerked against the restraints, but the shadows did not yield. They only tightened, biting into his skin like shackles of living night.

“You sold her off but she wasn't yours to sell.” Azriel said. "Or anyone's. You had no right."

His voice was unnervingly calm but paired with the icy rage simmering in his eyes, something shifted in your father’s expression. His struggling ceased and the anger in his eyes dimmed. Then, he laughed, low and dry, until a shadow slithered around his throat, cutting it short with a warning squeeze.

“Of course I did,” your father managed to choke out. “She is my daughter.”

Azriel’s shadows whispered madly, seething at the possessiveness of your father’s words. They were begging to be let free and do as they pleased. And Azriel would’ve let them feed into their hunger for revenge, if he didn’t need your father for more information.

Your father coughed as the shadow around his throat reluctantly loosened, just enough for him to speak.

“Where is she?”

Your father’s lips curled in disgust at Azriel’s demanding tone.

“I do not know the customs of your barbaric people nor do I care. But let me remind you that this is the Court of Nightmares, not Illyria. Y/n is a daughter of this house, whether she likes it or not. And this is how things are done here, whether you like it or not.”

A slow, boiling rage curled in Azriel’s gut. His siphons flared, casting violent blue shadows across the room. You had run from this life, had given everything up. And just when you had thought you were safe, your father came for you.

“Did you really think she would remain in that library forever? Hiding among dusty books, playing the part of a priestess?” Your father paused to let out a scoff.

Azriel’s fingers twitched toward the dagger at his belt.

“No daughter of mine will waste away in that temple of cowards. She was meant to serve her purpose. A purpose you need not worry yourself over…”

Azriel’s shadows churned, overtaken by their anger. The same anger that surged through his blood. And Azriel didn’t need them to recognize the moment realization struck. The exact second your father pieced it together. His gaze met Azriel’s, the glint of cruel satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

“What difference does it make if she is married to some noble lord or sold to a dreadborn mercenary? Either way, she fulfills her duty to me.”

Azriel moved before he could think. One second, your father was smirking in his chair and the next, he was slammed against the stone wall, Azriel’s hand at his throat. His shadows now swarmed behind him like a storm ready to unfold. It all happened so fast that the wine glass that your father had still been clinging to shattered to the floor a heartbeat later, dark red liquid bleeding across the marble.

“If only I had known that she meant something to you, I would’ve let you have her. For a pretty coin, of course.”

Azriel growled, a sharp pain blooming in Azriel’s jaw from how hard he clenched his teeth. He would kill the male before him. He would rip him apart, consequences be damned and let his shadows carry his pieces to the void.

He pressed his dagger against your father’s throat. His heartbeat pounded like war drums in his ears, each beat fueling the storm of thoughts racing through his mind. Thoughts of you. Who had your father handed you over to like some piece of property? And how far had they taken you from him?

He didn’t have time to waste.

“You are going to tell me where they took her,” Azriel said, his voice dangerously cool. “Or I will make sure you never speak another word again.”

Your father chuckled, even as the blade bit into his flesh. “You think I fear you?” He scoffed. “You are nothing but a trained beast at Rhysand’s command. I am noble blood. You wouldn’t dare—”

Azriel twisted his wrist. Just enough to pierce skin, just enough to silence him as a bead of blood welled at the tip. “You’re right,” he said. “I serve my High Lord. I follow his rules.”

But then Azriel leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “But I don’t follow them when it comes to her.”

Your father stilled. His arrogance fractured just enough for Azriel to see the flicker of fear in his eyes. “Derrick was his name,” he finally rasped. “Said he worked for Koschei. But it doesn’t matter. The bargain was made. The deal has been sealed.”

Azriel released him, letting the male crumple to the floor, gasping for breath. His shadows curled around his boots, eager and waiting for an order.

“Pray,” Azriel said coldly, “that she is still breathing when I find her.”

Your father let out a ragged laugh, one last attempt at defiance. “Just how far are you willing to go to save her?”

Azriel didn’t hesitate.

“I’d give my life for her.”

His words were forged in steel, unyielding and absolute. A vow so powerful that it wrapped itself around his ribs and settled into the marrow of his bones.

And then, without another word, he vanished into the night.

a/n: Please don't hate me y'all. I have no plans to continue this. (Of course things can change but I really want to focus on my current WIPs before I start anything else. I just got the sudden inspo and given my writer's block, I wanted to write something before it went away. But I am happy to entertain any questions/asks over this little scenario I created.)

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #i just had to finish this tonight even though it is 3AM out of spite from my last post lol #i was thankfully able to safely charge my laptop

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hoshifighting · 1 year ago

Note

hey I need cheol to fuck and breed me stupid for doing well on my exams :(

Hit the Books, Hit the Sheets

Synopsis: Where after weeks with your face buried inside of books on the brink of exhaustion, however, when the day of the exam arrives, your hard work pays off as you receive notice of an outstanding grade—an A+. Overwhelmed with pride and joy, Seungcheol decides to reward you for your dedication. WC: 3.4k WARNINGS: Smut, mentions of body fluids, breeding, oral (f. receiving), praising, dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, g'spot stimulation and lots and lots of praising (again).

Seungcheol walked into the apartment, tired from a long day's work. As he entered the living room, he noticed the familiar sight of you buried in your books, your face obscured by the pages. Concern tugged at his heartstrings as he observed the weariness etched on your features, the faint dark circles under your eyes telling a silent tale of your relentless study sessions.

"Baby," he called softly, approaching you with cautious steps. "You should take some rest. You've been at it all day."

You glanced up briefly, offering him a tired smile before returning your attention to the book in front of you. "I will, Seungcheol. Just a little more to go through."

Seungcheol sighed, taking a seat beside you on the bed. "You've been saying that for days now. I'm worried about you, sweetheart. You need to take care of yourself too."

Your brows furrowed slightly in concentration as you flipped another page, your mind fully consumed by the wealth of knowledge before you. "I know, Seungcheol. But I have exams coming up, and I need to be prepared."

He reached out, gently placing a hand on yours to stop your relentless flipping of pages. "I understand that, but pushing yourself too hard isn't healthy. You need to find a balance."

You met his concerned gaze, feeling a pang of guilt tug at your heart. "I'll rest after I finish this chapter, I promise."

Seungcheol sighed once more, realizing that his words were falling on deaf ears, your mind too deeply immersed in your studies to truly register his concerns. With a heavy heart, he leaned back against the pillows, silently watching as you continued to pour over your books, the weight of exhaustion evident in every line of your posture. He knew he couldn't force you to stop, but he hoped that eventually, you would realize the importance of taking care of yourself, even amidst the chaos of exams and deadlines.

s the days went by and Seungcheol noticed you becoming increasingly consumed by your studies, he took it upon himself to ensure you were taking care of your physical health as well. Despite your insistence on studying continuously, he made it a point to interrupt your sessions with nutritious snacks and meals.

He would gently tap you on the shoulder, interrupting your concentration momentarily as he placed a plate of fresh fruit or a homemade sandwich beside your books. "I brought you some snacks, sweetheart," he would say softly, a hint of concern in his voice.

You would offer him a grateful smile, pausing your reading momentarily to indulge in the nourishment he provided. Though your mind was still preoccupied with your studies, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

At dinner time, Seungcheol would coax you away from your desk, gently reminding you of the importance of taking a break and nourishing your body. He would prepare wholesome meals, ensuring that you ate enough to sustain your energy levels through the long hours of studying ahead.

As Seungcheol pulled up to the college campus, he turned to you with a reassuring smile. "You've got this, babe," he said, his voice filled with encouragement. "Just remember everything you've studied, and trust in yourself. I believe in you."

You nodded, feeling a surge of determination as you gripped his hand tightly. "Thank you, Seungcheol," you replied, your voice filled with gratitude. "I'll do my best."

With one last reassuring squeeze of your hand, Seungcheol watched as you stepped out of the car and made your way towards the college building. As you disappeared from view, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for the strength and resilience you displayed, even in the face of daunting challenges.

Once you were inside the campus, your phone began to buzz incessantly with messages from Seungcheol, each one filled with words of encouragement and love.

"Hey babe, you've got this! I believe in you!"

"Just a reminder that you're amazing and capable of anything, including acing this exam. I'm cheering for you all the way!"

"You're gonna ace that exam, my love! Make me proud!"

With each message that popped up on your screen, you felt a surge of confidence and determination. Seungcheol's unwavering support served as a constant source of motivation, driving you to give it your all during the exam.

You settle into your seat, the words of Seungcheol echoing in your mind like a comforting melody. With a determined click of your pen, you begin to write, each stroke of ink on paper fueled by his unwavering belief in you. As you tackle the exam questions with a newfound sense of confidence, memories of Seungcheol flash before your eyes, reminding you that you are capable of overcoming any challenge that comes your way.

Hours pass in a blur of concentration and determination, until finally, you complete the exam and hand it to your professor. It's almost ironic how quickly he corrects your paper, mere minutes compared to the weeks of intense study that preceded this moment. But as you sit in your seat once again, waiting for the final grade, you can't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that you gave it your all, guided by the unwavering support of Seungcheol.

Heart pounding in your chest, you rise from your seat as your teacher calls your name to receive your exam. With trembling hands, you accept the paper, barely able to contain the anticipation bubbling within you. As your eyes scan the page, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the A+ adorned with a red circle, a silent testament to your hard work and dedication.

"Thank you," you manage to whisper to your teacher, a grateful smile gracing your lips as you swiftly exit the classroom. Once outside, you find a secluded spot and press your knuckles against your mouth to stifle a scream of joy, tears of relief and happiness pricking at the corners of your eyes.

With trembling fingers, you dial Seungcheol's number, the night's breeze swirling around you as you wait anxiously for him to pick up. Finally, his voice fills your ears, sweet and familiar, as he greets you with a warmth that washes over you like a comforting embrace.

"Hey, how did it go?" he asks eagerly, his excitement palpable even through the phone.

You take a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush as you share the news. "I got an A+, Seungcheol! I did it!"

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Seungcheol's jubilant celebration, his joyous jumps echoing through the receiver. "That's amazing, sweetheart! I knew you could do it!"

He pauses for a moment before continuing, his voice filled with determination. "Don't move, okay? I'm coming to pick you up right now. We're going to celebrate at your favorite restaurant."

In a matter of minutes, Seungcheol's car pulls up in front of the college, and you can't help but feel a rush of excitement as you spot him stepping out of the driver's seat. His face lights up with a beaming smile as he rushes towards you, his arms outstretched for a big hug.

You meet him halfway, throwing yourself into his embrace as he lifts you off the ground in a tight squeeze. The warmth of his hug envelops you, filling you with a sense of comfort and joy as you revel in the moment.

"Congratulations, my love," he murmurs into your ear, his voice filled with pride and admiration. "I'm so proud of you."

As he sets you back down, he takes your hand and leads you towards the car, opening the door for you with a flourish. "Let's go celebrate," he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "But first, you need to eat well. You've earned it."

With a grateful smile, you climb into the car beside him.

After a celebratory dinner at your favorite restaurant with Seungcheol, you return home feeling content and relaxed. The warmth of the hot water soothes your tired muscles as you sink into the bath, letting the steam envelop you in a cocoon of relaxation. With each passing minute, the stress of the day melts away, leaving you feeling lighter and more at ease.

Once you've finished your bath, you towel off and before climbing into bed beside Seungcheo, and you can't help but smile as you watch him play on his phone. But when he senses your presence, he quickly tosses the device aside and turns his attention to you, his lips finding their way to your face in a trail of soft kisses.

You giggle at his affectionate display, enjoying the gentle caress of his lips against your skin as he peppers kisses down your face, tracing a path along your jawline and down to your neck. His touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but laugh at the ticklish sensation.

But as his kisses linger on your neck, you feel a sudden rush of sensitivity, a soft moan escaping your lips involuntarily. Seungcheol's eyes light up at the sound, a mischievous glint dancing in his gaze.

He chuckles softly, his lips trailing lower along your neck, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses in their wake. "Since you've been so amazing today," he murmurs against your skin, "I think it's only fair that I give you a reward."

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his touch ignite a fire within you, anticipation building with each passing second. "And what might that be?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As he reaches your belly, he gently pushes up your jersey, granting him full access to your clothed pussy. Your body trembles with anticipation as his gaze locks with yours, his eyes filled with an intense hunger that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you.

Without hesitation, Seungcheol lowers himself even further, his lips brushing against the fabric covering your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips as you feel the warmth of his breath against your most sensitive area.

With a teasing grin, Seungcheol leans in closer, his tongue flicking out to trace a slow stripe along your clothed clit. You flinch, moving your hips impatiently to feel his tongue.

As Seungcheol removes your panties and spreads your legs wide open, anticipation pulses through your veins, your body thrumming with desire. When his wet and hot tongue makes contact with your clit, you throw your head back, a moan escaping your lips.

"Mmm…" you moan, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the sensitivity of your clit heightened after days of intense studying, your body craving the release that only Seungcheol can provide.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on as his tongue flicks your clit with increasing speed. The pleasure builds and builds, each stroke of his tongue driving you closer to the edge.

"Ah! Oh god, Seungcheol," you cry out, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, your body teetering on the brink of release.

As you gasp for breath, you plead with him, your voice dripping with desperation. "I'm gonna cum, Seungcheol. Please, please!"

With a primal growl, Seungcheol redoubles his efforts, sucking your pussy with an intensity that leaves you trembling, you could listen to the sound he made while he slurped your cunt. The sensation is overwhelming, pushing you past the point of no return as you finally cum in his tongue.

"Oh, Seungcheol," you pant, your thighs tightening around his head as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. "You're... you're amazing. So good... so fucking good."

As Seungcheol continues to lavish attention on your sensitive pussy, your thighs instinctively tighten around his head, riding the waves of your orgasm with abandon. Each flick of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, intensifying the sensations to dizzying heights.

But as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear, your body convulses with oversensitivity, the overwhelming sensation bordering on pain. With a shaky breath, you finally manage to choke out a plea.

"Seungcheol, please... stop," you whimper, your voice laced with need and desperation.

Seungcheol pulls away reluctantly, his hands moving to grasp your boobs as he gazes down at you with a hungry glint in his eyes. You meet his gaze, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggle to regain your composure.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. "I could eat you out forever."

A blush creeps onto your cheeks at his words, but a surge of arousal floods through you at the praise. With a coy smile, you reach out to trace a finger along his jawline, the intimacy of the moment igniting a fire within you.

"You're amazing" you whisper, your voice husky with desire.

His eyes darken with desire at your words, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I'll always make you feel good, baby" he murmurs against your lips. "You're mine, and I'll take care of you forever."

As your lips meld in a heated, passionate kiss, you feel Seungcheol's tongue eagerly seeking entrance, his lips sucking and teasing yours. With a soft whimper, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as desire courses through your veins.

Seungcheol breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he gazes down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. "What do you want, babygirl?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

You whimper softly, your body pulsing with need as you meet his gaze with a hunger of your own. "I need you," you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you to fuck me, Seungcheol. I need you to make me yours." At this point, you were completely crazy for him, after all these days without his touch that you craved so much.

A hungry grin spreads across Seungcheol's lips as he leans in closer, his hands moving to grip your hips possessively. "Oh, baby," he growls, his voice dripping with desire. "I'm going to please you all night long. You're mine, and I'm going to make you feel so fucking good."

With a needy moan, you arch your back, pressing your body closer to his as you feel the heat of his arousal pressing against you. "Yes!" you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "Please, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol's sweatpants fall to the floor, revealing his throbbing erection, wet and glistening with anticipation. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him, your body trembling with need as you ache for him to fill you completely.

With a low groan, Seungcheol positions himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance, the anticipation sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he begins to enter you, his massive cock stretching you to your limits as you gasp at the sensation.

As he inches deeper inside you, Seungcheol's voice fills the air, his words dripping with pride and admiration. "I'm so proud of you, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "You've worked so hard, and you deserve to be rewarded."

His words send a surge of warmth flooding through you, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for this man who stands before you, ready to give you everything you desire. With each thrust, he praises your efforts, his words driving you wild with desire.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, baby," he growls, his voice filled with primal need. "I'm going to make you feel every inch of me, the way you deserve it."

With each thrust, Seungcheol's words of love and admiration fill the room, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the wet slaps of your bodies coming together.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, as he drives himself deeper into you.

"You worked so hard," he praises, his movements becoming more urgent with each passing moment, as if he's trying to convey his love and appreciation through every thrust.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice a soft caress against your skin, as he loses himself in the pleasure of being with you.

With every word, every declaration of love, Seungcheol's thrusts become more intense, more desperate, as if he's trying to pour all of his love and desire into you with each movement of his body.

"I love you!" he repeats, his voice a mantra of devotion as he continues to move inside you

As your cheeks flush with embarrassment, Seungcheol's gaze softens, his fingers gently caressing your hair with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. His cock continues to pound into your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body, leaving you unable to do anything but moan and whimper in ecstasy.

"You like that, baby?" he coos, his voice low and husky with desire. "You like the way my cock feels inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again?"

You can only nod in response, your words lost in a sea of pleasure as Seungcheol's relentless thrusts drive you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

"That's it," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he continues to drive into you with unbridled passion. "Just let go, baby. Let me take care of you. I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

With each word, each caress, Seungcheol's cock pounds into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, your body writhing beneath him as you surrender yourself completely to the pleasure he provides.

"Oh, fuck," Seungcheol groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he feels your pussy spasming around him, the clenching sensation making him stutter in his movements. "You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet around my cock."

As you roll your eyes back in ecstasy, lost in the pleasure of his thrusts, Seungcheol's words become more desperate, more urgent.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he gasps, his hips thrusting faster and harder, unable to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. "I can't hold back anymore, baby. I'm gonna cum so hard for you."

"Please, Seungcheol," you whimper, your voice dripping with desperation as you circle your clit, trying to milk him for all he's worth. "Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you come inside me."

Seungcheol's eyes squeeze shut tight, a curse slipping past his lips as he feels your pussy clenching around him harder, the sensation driving him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Cumming," he gasps, his voice a ragged whisper as he empties himself inside you, his body trembling with the intensity of his release.

As Seungcheol's hot cum fills your cunt, you can't help but moan in ecstasy at the sensation of his cock pushing the cum deeper and deeper inside you. The overwhelming pleasure sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, driving you to the brink of another orgasm.

"Fuck," you mumble, already overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. "Keep fucking your cum inside me, Seungcheol. I need it. I need all of you."

Seungcheol's moan is almost pained as he buries his face in your neck, his body trembling with desire at your words. "God, yes," he groans, his voice thick with need.

Seungcheol watches with satisfaction as he withdraws his cock from your pussy, his gaze lingering on the sight of his cum dripping from your wet and messy cunt. A sense of pride washes over him as he takes in the fucked-out expression on your face, knowing that he's given you the release you so desperately needed after days of exhaustion.

Your relaxed demeanor is like a reward to him, a testament to his ability to bring you pleasure and satisfaction even in the midst of your busiest and most stressful times. He can't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that he's been able to fuck every last bit of tension out of you, leaving you looking and feeling more relaxed than you have in days.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity and adoration.

Seungcheol's eyes soften at your words, a tender smile spreading across his face as he reaches out to cup your cheek. "I love you too," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

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recklesssezon · 6 months ago

Text

𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗶

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | alessia russo x mma!fighter

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | alessia and ella find themselves in chaos of trouble and you have to go save them.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | blood, violence, slurs, misogyny, i suck at warnings

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | just gonna silently drop this here and dip. thank you to the anon that requested this!

“I knew I shoulda drove. Now look at what you've done. You gotten us lost.”

Alessia sighed, turning the wheel down an unknown neighborhood. “The map said turn left, Less!” she groaned, dropping her head on the steering wheel, halting the car in the middle of the road. That was the second wrong turn she had took, they’ve only been down three blocks.

Ella made the absolute mistake of letting Alessia drive. She should have manned up and drove with her tweaked ankle that surely would have gotten them to dinner faster.

“I swear it said turn right!” Alessia exclaimed, peering around the neighborhood for some familiarity. Ella gasped in disbelief, snatching the phone out its holder, shoving it right into Alessia’s face.

“Left! It said left!”

Alessia grinned sheepishly, the clear displayment of a left turn route proved Ella’s point. “We’ve all mistaken our left for our right.” Alessia flinched back when Ella reached over the console, threatening to strangle her. Alessia released her foot off the petal backing herself far from Ella as much as she could. Momentarily forgetting to put the car in park.

The car rolled forward, the two girls were far too busy fighting to notice the sudden movement. They jerked, Ella frozed mid-climb, Alessia had stopped screaming. Blue eyes staring into one another as stunned as they can be. Both too scared to look at the situation they found themselves in.

“What did we just do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you look?.”

“Why don’t you?”

“You’re the driver.”

“You’re the idiot that attacked the driver!”

“Okay. Let’s both look on the count of three.” Alessia nod, she grabbed Ella’s hands interlacing them for the worst to come. One…Two…Thr-”

“Hey!” Their heads snapped to the booming voice, a man furiously marching towards them. Hurling slander at the top of his lungs. Terror surged, and Ella repeatedly slapped Alessia to take action. “Drive! Drive!”

Alessia stammered, fumbling the gear between reverse and drive, “I can’t! The road’s too fucking small!” The attempt to make an escape was useless, giving up, Alessia scrambled out the car. “Sir! Sir, I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” She stumbled back startled by the closing proximity as he continued his march, no sign of stopping.

“You think I care what you mean! You hit my fucking car!” He screamed, inches away from Alessia’s face. She turned her head, shielding herself from the strong aggression. Ella instantly went to Alessia’s side, yanking her back. “I paid pounds for it! Only for some two stupid girls to wreck it!”

Ella scrunched her nose in disgust, spit flying everywhere from his yellow jagged teeth. Smart mouth as ever, Ella said, “Technically, we didn’t wreck it. A little bump to the side is more like it. So don’t go get your teeth in a twist.” His face grew beet red by the second, Alessia pushed her best friend behind her. There was no way they were going to get out of this alive if Ella kept talking.

“I understand you’re angry but we’ll pay for the damages.” Alessia pleads, hoping that by taking responsibility they’ll be good to go. “We?!” Ella cried, wincing when Alessia stomped on her foot. She threw a stern look, silently warning Ella to shut her mouth. “Yes, we. We’ll take full responsibility and pay for all expenses needed.” Alessia forced a smile, praying that what she said was enough to settle the tension.

He chuckled, “You think I’m going to trust two whores to have that kind of money?! Do you take me for a fool?! This is a vintage Rolls Royce, your family's generational wealth couldn’t pay for this!” He slammed his fist onto the hood of Alessia’s car, pointing a threatening finger at her. “I’m going to call the police, don’t go anywhere!”

Alessia gulped, her stomach tightened as storms of emotions winded her. She felt stupid for being distracted, stupid for not putting the car in park. She wishes that things will be handled privately, no need for the media or you to hear about this, especially you. But, while Alessia was preoccupied, Ella had made a call.

“Hello, mate? I think it’s best you get down here, Alessia’s a bit in a situation…Yeah, we’re nearing that pond you threw Lucy in last month. Alright, see ya. “

Ella tucked her phone in her pocket, just catching the man walking away. “Don’t stress too much, I’ve got it handled.” Alessia looked at her with red eyes, hot tears brimming slightly over the edge. Ella pulled Alessia to her side, wrapping an arm around while they waited. It didn’t take long for you to arrive, two minutes after the call to be exact. It’s a good thing they didn’t make it far with Alessia’s poor driving skills.

Her eyes grew large at the sight of you racing over, she didn’t expect you to be here. She zeroed in on Ella, knowing she had something to do with your sudden appearance. You had become the team’s go to person whenever they were in trouble, especially if Alessia was an unwilling participant. Then, certainly you’d show up.

“Alessia! Are you okay, love?”

You engulfed her in your arms, looking over her shoulder, Ella nodded assuring that she was unharmed. Alessia released a breath, the security of your arms brought her comfort more than she could imagine. “I’m okay. But what are you doing here? You can’t be here.” Alessia’s words tremble with worry. You were still under investigation after last year’s incident. Headlines that followed hours later spread like wildfire.

You became the center focus, your name and photos plastered on every media outlet there is. Your team did some damage control and ceased the fire but that wasn’t enough to call off the rumors and speculation circulating you.

In terms of Alessia, her name was out of the limelight. Your team along with hers worked overtime to ensure that her and her friend’s association with you wouldn’t be put to questioning. The possibility of your career tanking was on everybody’s mind, the last thing you wanted was for Alessia and her mates to get mixed up in it all.

You furrowed your brows, assessing your surroundings. Your eyes wandered over Alessia’s car, “I came as soon as Ella called. Said that you were in trouble, and it looks like she wasn't lying. What the hell happened?”

“Alessia hit another car and then this grumpy old man came out of nowhere and started yelling! He called us stupid and whores! I’m not a whore!”

Ella kicked the rubble on the road, more comfortable to express her anger now that you were here to ensure that she wouldn’t get hit for talking her smack. You looked for Alessia for confirmation, rest assured, she nodded. You sighed, pressing a kiss to Alessia’s forehead. “It’s alright, Less. I'll go have a little chat, rough him up a bit and then we can go.”

There was no point in stopping you, she had learned the hard way. You cupped her jaw, the heat radiating from her red cheeks soothed your cold hands. “Stay with Ella until I’m done. I mean it.” Alessia searched for anything else other than the love and determination, you always held. You didn’t let go until she said what you wanted to hear.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with her until you’re done.”

You softly smiled, understanding that she didn’t want you fighting her battles for her. Ever since your public outburst, Alessia’s been walking on eggshells with whom she interacted and how she interacted, becoming more reserved to avoid another mishap. “Don’t worry your pretty head. It’ll be quick.” You kissed her lips, smiling when she refused to pull away. You gave her a parting peck.

“Ella, you mind pointing him out?” Ella pointed an accusatory finger to the flat behind you, confident that you’d be kicking some ass today, and maybe she could jump in, earn some street credits to her name.

Alessia stared at her friend in betrayal, Ella shrugged, “What? If she ends up in prison, at least you know she’ll get your name tattooed on her neck.” Alessia rolled her eyes. Though you assured her multiple times that prison wasn’t in your future, it didn’t stop the possibility from potentially becoming a reality. “Maybe she could be the next Mike Tyson.”

The door opened, revealing a woman in her thirties, a wash cloth in hand. “Hello, darling. What can I do for you?” You gave a charming smile, not expecting a woman to be on the other end. Did the man that just called your girlfriend and friend a whore have a wife? “Um, I’m looking for your husband I presume. I wanted to speak about some problems we've made along the way.” She smiled politely, seemingly unsuprised that her husband got caught in a web of trouble.

“Oh, I’ll go get him for you.”

You gave thanks, rocking on your heels as you waited. A man appeared with a beer in hand, a phone in the other. “What do you want?” His voice gruffed, your nose twitched at the stench of alcohol, body odor and family disappointment.

"An apology. You see the two girls behind me. Well one of them is my girlfriend and the other is her best friend. And I don't know about you, but I don't take anyone disrespecting my girl lightly."

He scoffed, the audacity to scoff in your face had your self-control hanging by a thread. He stepped out the door threshold, guzzling his beer before throwing it down on the pavement. Shards flew up a few inches, yet you stood your ground.

"Yeah? What the hell are you going to do about it, bitch?"

Instantly, you grabbed him by the collar, throwing him down the small steps to his freshly cut lawn. Groans escaped his mouth, his body curled up withering in pain from the blow to his back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You skipped the steps, kicking his ankle when he tried to stand. “Many things but none that are worth discussing. What’s your name? Because I don’t think hillbilly bob is it.” He pushed himself up to his knee, this time you let him. He glared up at you, grumbling his name.

“Paul. The name’s Paul.”

You motioned for Alessia and Ella to walk over, “Girls, I know you already met, but this man here name is Paul. Now, Paul, we're going to try this again. Give the girls the apology they deserve.” You tapped your foot, unfazed by the lasers he shot at you. You’ve dealt with the worst people, all who're skilled in kicking your ass. Baseless men like Paul failed to install fear in you. You were the BloodHouse for crying out loud. You weren’t so easily shaken.

“She hit my car. I'm not apologizing for shit."

You huffed, your team thought it’d be best for you to lay off matches for a while, you haven’t stepped foot in the cage with another fighter for months. Your body was itching for a fight, a real one, and it looks like you found one. “I really wish you didn't say that.” You pulled your fist back, striking him across the jaw.

He fell back, and white flash of pain surged from his back to his jaw. Blood flooded his mouth. He gathered up the little strength he had to spit on you. You inspected at the red blob on your shoe, your heart pounding in your ears. Your fingers twitched, feeling the uncontrollable urge to pummel Paul black and blue.

You rushed forward, grabbing Paul by the ear, forcing him up before you tore it off. You inched closer, dropping down to a whisper. “You're lucky that she’s here. If it was just you and me, I would’ve beaten you until you’re tube fed. Now, say you're sorry.”

Fear striked through him, his doe eyes looking at you like some kind of monster. He turned to the girls, reluctant but nonetheless muttered what you were looking for. You purse your lips, unsatisfied. Grabbing his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back. "Louder and make it sincere.”

You weren't a very patient person, never have been, never will be. A trait you honorably gotten from your father, you pushed Paul's arm further as he took his sweet time.

“Sorry, girls. Seems like he lost his voice, no worries I’ll get your apology.”

“Babe, I don’t think-”

“Come on, mate. Say it. It’ll be done and over with before you know it.” Alessia threw a look over her shoulder, silently blaming Ella for dragging you into this mess. Ella raised her hands in surrender. She was partially to blame for this she'll admit.

He visibly clenched his jaw, no matter how hard he tried to conjure up his strength he was no match for you. Your stance established the power imbalance between you two. Him barely holding himself up while you stood firm. Ella smiled in triumph, Alessia winced as the man croaked out an apology, a fearful one, but one nevertheless.

You smiled at Alessia who stood weary behind you, she was still getting used to the extent violence could go, slowly she became immune but time could only tell. "What do you say, love? Do you think he's being genuine?"

Alessia glanced at you and then to the man down on the ground, her chest filled with a pride. “Yeah, I think he’s fine.” You patted Paul on the shoulder, feeling a hint of glee when he hissed.

“Told you were lucky.”

Though you weren’t done as they thought. You dragged Paul, not minding the dead weight as he tried to stop you. You flipped open the bin, readjusting your grip on the back of his shirt before tossing him in. You closed the lid, kicking it to the ground. Smirking when a shout came from the fall. You turned to Alessia, looking for a job well done.

Ella applauds, entertained by the show you provided, disbelieving that this is what she’s been missing. “Can we go now? I’m getting hungry.”

“Gladly. Wait before I forget.” You pulled out a wad of pounds from your pocket, throwing it beside the bin, “For your car!” You gave it an extra nudge, slinging your arm around Alessia as Ella took your spot and continously kicked the bin.

“Take that you arse!”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #woso fanfics #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #hound

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