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elryuse · 3 days ago

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Yandere Wonyoung x Male Reader

Wonyoung & y/n have been friends since childhood and promised to get married when they grow up..but since Wonyoung became an idol and got great success, she start to forget y/n and said rude things to y/n..at the same time, she's in a relationship with a male idol..y/n knows about it and feels very disappointed and slowly forgets Wonyoung

a few months later, Wonyoung compared between that male idol with y/n and felt that y/n was the best..after that, she start tracking y/n & willing to kill anyone who stood in her way.

The Price of a Broken Promise

Yandere Wonyoung X Male Reader

The rain poured heavily outside as Wonyoung sat alone in her luxurious apartment, staring blankly at the dim glow of her phone. News articles, tweets, and viral videos filled the screen, all focused on the same scandal: San, her boyfriend, caught cheating with another idol. The images of him smiling, holding someone else’s hand, sent a sharp pang through her chest.

The betrayal stung, but it wasn’t just San’s actions that haunted her tonight. As she curled up on the couch, her mind drifted back to a promise she had made long ago, to someone who had once meant everything to her.

“Y/n,” she whispered his name for the first time in years, the sound foreign yet painfully familiar.

She closed her eyes, letting the memories resurface. She saw his shy smile, the way his hand would always reach for hers as they walked home together. He had been her anchor, her unwavering support during the uncertain days of their childhood.

But she had let him go.

Her fame as an idol had taken over her life, pulling her further and further away from the boy who had once been her entire world. It wasn’t just time or distance that had severed their bond—it was her own selfishness.

“Wonyoung, don’t forget me, okay?” Y/n had said once, his voice soft but earnest.

“I could never forget you,” she had replied with a laugh, brushing off his concern. But she had forgotten him—forgotten their promise, forgotten his love.

And worse, she had pushed him away.

Her chest tightened as she remembered their last conversation, months before she debuted. He had called her late at night, worried about her.

“Wonyoung, are you okay? You haven’t replied to my texts,” he had said, his voice full of concern.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I’m just busy,” she had replied coldly.

“I just wanted to remind you I’m here for you—always.”

“I don’t need you,” she had snapped, her frustration boiling over. “Stop calling me.”

She could still hear the silence that followed, the hurt in his voice when he finally said, “Okay. I understand.”

That had been the last time she heard from him.

Now, years later, she realized the enormity of her mistake. Y/n had been the one constant in her life, the one person who had loved her unconditionally. And she had thrown him away for a fleeting romance with someone who didn’t even care enough to stay faithful.

The guilt hit her like a tidal wave. She grabbed her phone, her hands trembling as she searched for his number.

Her heart sank when the call didn’t go through.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She tried again, but the same robotic message greeted her.

“Why did I let you go?” she sobbed, clutching the phone to her chest.

The days that followed were a blur. Wonyoung couldn’t focus on anything—rehearsals, photoshoots, interviews. Her manager noticed the change.

“Wonyoung, what’s going on with you?” he asked one afternoon, his tone sharp. “You’re distracted, and it’s starting to show.”

“I just need some time,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Time for what? You have responsibilities, a career—”

“I need to find someone,” she interrupted, her voice trembling.

Her manager stared at her, baffled. “What are you talking about? You don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, standing abruptly. “I’ve already lost the most important person in my life because of this career. I’m not losing him forever.”

“Wonyoung, be reasonable—”

“I’m done listening to reason,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m going to find Y/n.”

She spent weeks searching, reaching out to mutual friends, scouring social media, even looking through old emails in the hope of finding some trace of him. It was through one of those emails that she found an old message from him, dated two years ago.

Wonyoung,

I know you’re busy, and I know your life is different now. But I just wanted to remind you that I’m still here. If you ever need me, just call.

- Y/n

Her tears blurred the screen as she read his words. He had been there for her, even when she didn’t deserve it. And now he was gone.

Wonyoung’s search eventually led her to New York, where she had heard he had moved. She didn’t know what she would say if she found him. She didn’t even know if he would want to see her. But she had to try.

When she finally knocked on the door of a small apartment in the city, her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear the rain that drenched her.

The door opened, and there he was.

“Y/n,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He stared at her in shock, his expression unreadable. “Wonyoung?”

Before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n stepped back, his face hardening. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Why now?” he asked, his tone cold. “After all this time, why now?”

She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “I was selfish. I hurt you, and I let you go. I let everything go, and I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”

“You don’t get to just walk back into my life,” he said, his voice sharp. “You don’t get to show up here and expect me to forgive you.”

“I know,” she said, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please… just listen to me.”

Y/n clenched his fists, his emotions a whirlwind of anger, pain, and something else he couldn’t quite name. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” she said desperately. “You mattered more than anything. I was just too blind to see it.”

He shook his head, turning away. “Why are you really here, Wonyoung? Is it guilt? Regret? What do you want from me?”

“I want you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to make things right. I want to keep the promise we made.”

Y/n froze, her words cutting through him like a knife. For so long, he had dreamed of hearing her say those words. But now that she had, it felt hollow.

“You don’t get to fix this with a few words,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Trust doesn’t work like that. Love doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know it’ll take time. But I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Y/n looked at her, searching her face for sincerity. For the first time, he saw it—the raw, unfiltered regret and love she had buried for so long.

But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight. And love, once broken, wasn’t so easily mended.

Wonyoung returned to Seoul after her meeting with Y/n, but she wasn’t the same. The regret and longing that had once been a dull ache had transformed into something far more potent. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—his indifferent expression, his cold tone. The man she had once known as her Y/n was no longer hers.

And that thought drove her mad.

She sat in her darkened apartment, scrolling through her phone for the hundredth time. She had found his social media accounts, though they were sparse. His life seemed simple now—pictures of cityscapes, books, and an occasional group photo with friends. But it was the women in those group photos that caught her attention.

Who were they? Friends? Coworkers? Or something more?

Her grip on the phone tightened, her chest heaving with anger at the mere thought of Y/n laughing with another girl, confiding in someone else, smiling for someone else.

“No,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “He’s mine. He promised me. We promised each other.”

Her thoughts spiraled, and with each passing day, her obsession grew.

Wonyoung began to neglect her career. She would cancel rehearsals, ignore her manager’s calls, and avoid public appearances. Instead, she spent her days tracking Y/n’s life from afar. She learned the names of his coworkers, memorized his daily routines, and even discovered where he liked to eat lunch.

One day, she booked a flight back to New York, unable to stay away any longer.

Y/n was sitting in a café near his office, typing away on his laptop, when he felt a familiar presence. He looked up, and his heart sank.

“Wonyoung?”

She stood there, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with a desperate kind of determination.

“I needed to see you,” she said softly, taking a seat across from him without waiting for an invitation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone laced with frustration.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you every day. I need to make this right.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Wonyoung, we talked about this. I told you I needed time.”

“I know,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “But I can’t wait. I can’t let you go. You’re all I think about, Y/n. I can’t… I can’t live without you.”

Her words unsettled him. There was something unhinged in the way she spoke, in the way her hands clenched the edge of the table as if holding on for dear life.

“You can’t force this,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You need to move on.”

“Move on?” she repeated, her eyes widening. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Wonyoung, we were kids. Things are different now. You need to understand that.”

Her lips quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes. “No. No, you’re wrong. Things don’t have to be different. We can fix this. I can fix this.”

Y/n shook his head, his frustration mounting. “You’re not listening to me. This isn’t healthy—for either of us.”

She stared at him, her tears falling freely. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

But he did mean it. He stood, grabbing his laptop and bag. “I think you should leave, Wonyoung. Please don’t come back.”

She watched him walk away, her heart shattering all over again. But as the pain consumed her, a darker resolve began to take shape.

Wonyoung sat in her hotel room that night, replaying their conversation over and over in her mind. Y/n was pushing her away, but she couldn’t let him. He was hers. He had always been hers.

Her thoughts turned to the women she had seen in his photos. She imagined them laughing with him, touching him, taking her place. The idea was unbearable.

“No one else can have him,” she muttered to herself, pacing the room.

Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more twisted than the last. If Y/n wouldn’t come back to her willingly, she would make him. And if anyone tried to stand in her way, they would regret it.

The next day, Wonyoung followed Y/n to his office. She waited outside, watching as he chatted with a female coworker—a petite woman with a kind smile. Wonyoung’s nails dug into her palms as jealousy consumed her.

When the woman walked to a nearby café for lunch, Wonyoung followed her. She cornered her in the alley behind the café, her expression cold and menacing.

“You need to stay away from him,” Wonyoung said, her voice low and threatening.

The woman looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“Y/n,” Wonyoung clarified, stepping closer. “He’s mine. Don’t think for a second that you can take him from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman stammered, backing away.

Wonyoung grabbed her wrist, her grip like iron. “Listen carefully,” she hissed. “If I see you near him again, you’ll regret it.”

The woman nodded quickly, her face pale with fear. Wonyoung released her and walked away, a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over her.

Y/n started noticing strange things in the following weeks. His coworkers seemed distant, avoiding him during breaks. One day, he found a bouquet of roses on his doorstep with a note that read, “You’re mine, forever.”

He knew who it was from.

Wonyoung’s obsession was spiraling out of control, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He confronted her one evening, finding her waiting outside his apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, her voice sweet but unsteady.

“This has to stop, Wonyoung. You’re scaring me.”

Her smile faltered. “I’m scaring you? Y/n, all I’ve done is love you. All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

“This isn’t love,” he said firmly. “This is obsession.”

Her eyes darkened, and she stepped closer. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. You don’t understand how much I need you, Y/n. I can’t live without you.”

“You need help,” he said, his voice softening. “Please, Wonyoung. Get help.”

Her expression twisted into one of rage and heartbreak. “I don’t need help. I need you. And I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Y/n felt a chill run down his spine. He realized then just how far she was willing to go.

The obsession had consumed Wonyoung entirely. Every waking moment revolved around Y/n—what he was doing, where he was going, who he was with. She knew everything: the times he left for work, the café he liked to visit, the park where he occasionally went to clear his mind. Her network of eyes seemed endless. Every interaction, every smile he shared with someone else, ignited a storm of jealousy and fury within her.

But she couldn’t just watch anymore. She needed him. Completely.

It was a cold, quiet night when Wonyoung finally decided to act. She waited in the alley near Y/n’s apartment, cloaked in darkness. Her heart raced as she gripped the small vial in her hand, the contents a potent sedative she had procured after weeks of planning.

She knew his routine well enough to predict when he’d go to bed. The lights in his apartment flickered off around 11 PM. She waited another hour, ensuring he was deep in sleep before making her move.

Breaking into Y/n’s apartment was easier than she expected. She had studied his habits meticulously, noting how he often forgot to lock his balcony door. The quiet click of the door sliding open sent a chill down her spine, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through her.

She crept inside, her movements silent and calculated. His living room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. Her gaze fell on a framed photo of him on the counter, and she couldn’t resist picking it up, her fingers trembling as she traced his face.

“You’ll understand soon,” she whispered to herself, setting the photo down.

Her footsteps were featherlight as she made her way to his bedroom. The door was ajar, and she pushed it open slowly, revealing Y/n’s sleeping form. He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Wonyoung’s breath hitched. He was so close, so vulnerable.

She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she pulled out a syringe filled with the sedative. She had practiced this moment in her mind countless times, but the reality of it made her hands shake.

“I’m doing this for us,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She knelt beside the bed, carefully brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Her heart pounded as she pressed the needle against his skin.

The prick of the needle woke Y/n. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was disoriented.

“W-Wonyoung?” he mumbled, his voice groggy.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she cooed, her voice soft and soothing. “Just relax.”

His gaze sharpened as he realized what was happening. “What… what are you doing?” he said, his voice slurred as the sedative began to take effect.

He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. Panic flashed in his eyes as he attempted to push her away.

“Wonyoung, stop,” he slurred, his strength fading.

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t let you leave me. I need you, Y/n. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

He struggled against her, his body weak but his mind racing. “This… isn’t love,” he managed to say, his words barely audible.

“It is,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “It’s the purest love there is. I’m doing this for us. For you.”

Y/n’s vision blurred as the drug fully took hold. His head lolled to the side, and his body went limp. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was Wonyoung’s tear-streaked face hovering over him, a mix of desperation and obsession etched into her features.

Wonyoung sat beside him for hours, her hand gently stroking his hair as he lay unconscious. She whispered promises to him, vowing to make him understand, to show him that they were destined to be together.

“You’ll see, Y/n,” she murmured. “You’ll realize that no one can love you the way I do. No one will ever understand you like I do.”

Her tears had dried, replaced by a chilling sense of determination. She had crossed a line, but she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered now—only him.

He was hers. And she would never let him go.

The news broke like wildfire across Korea: “Jang Wonyoung, the Diva of IVE, Has Gone Missing.”

Fans were devastated, flooding social media with hashtags, prayers, and theories. Was it an abduction? Had she run away to escape the pressures of fame? The police were tight-lipped, but the public was frantic. News outlets speculated endlessly, painting a picture of tragedy for one of Korea’s brightest stars.

But the truth was far darker.

Far from the glitz and glamour of Seoul, in a secluded countryside church, Wonyoung stood radiant in her wedding dress. The ornate lace fabric clung to her like a second skin, her beauty almost ethereal. Her lips curled into a serene smile, her dream finally realized.

Beside her stood Y/n, dressed in a formal suit, but his face betrayed no joy. His once-bright eyes were now dull, lifeless. The man who had fought so hard to escape his past had been subdued, stripped of his will. He moved robotically, his body weakened from the drugged haze that Wonyoung kept him in.

The church was empty, save for them. There were no friends, no family, no witnesses. It was exactly how Wonyoung wanted it. This moment wasn’t for the world—it was for them alone.

“You look so handsome, my love,” Wonyoung whispered, her voice tender as she adjusted his tie. “I’ve waited for this moment my entire life.”

Y/n’s lips twitched, but no words came. He had stopped resisting days ago. His silence didn’t bother Wonyoung anymore. She believed that, in time, he would come to accept her love again.

The officiant, a man Wonyoung had hired for discretion, cleared his throat and began the ceremony.

“Do you, Jang Wonyoung, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Wonyoung’s eyes gleamed with joy. “I do.”

“And do you, Y/n, take Jang Wonyoung to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Y/n remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. Wonyoung gently squeezed his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Answer him, my love,” she said sweetly, though her tone carried an edge.

“…I do,” Y/n muttered, his voice barely audible.

The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Wonyoung turned to Y/n, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

“This is our beginning,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his in a possessive kiss.

The couple settled into their new home, a sprawling estate surrounded by high walls and dense forests. It was isolated, designed to keep the outside world away—and Y/n inside.

Wonyoung walked through the grand hallways, her arms wrapped tightly around Y/n’s as if afraid he might slip away. She beamed with contentment, her dream fully realized.

“Isn’t this perfect?” she said, her voice full of glee. “Just you and me, forever.”

Y/n didn’t respond. He walked alongside her, his steps heavy, his gaze empty. The man he once was had been consumed by her relentless obsession.

But to Wonyoung, it didn’t matter.

She had won.

No one else would ever have him. No one else could touch him. Y/n was hers—completely, irrevocably, eternally.

As they sat by the fireplace that night, Wonyoung rested her head on his shoulder, her smile serene.

“This is love,” she said softly, her fingers lacing through his. “And I’ll never let you go again.”

The flames crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world continued to mourn the disappearance of Jang Wonyoung. But inside, she was happier than she had ever been.

The end

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #yandere #yandere stories #yandere kpop #yandere wonyoung #obsessive yandere #actually obsessive #obsession #regrets #pain #dark Romance #want

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bywonyo · 6 hours ago

Text

LET ME LOVE YOU ( 换句话说 ) they finally show you how badly they yearn for you with a kiss.

❛❛ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 , 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌�� 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 ❜❜

ペアリング 엔하이픈 형 & f ! r non idol au fluff yearning skinship smoking suggestive ⪩⪨ ( 档案 ) 1OOO

アイラ ꢾ𓍢ִ໋ i got carried away i fear

LEE HEESEUNG

“Seriously, him?” A flat, disappointed voice pierced through the air, and you recognized it instantly. “Yes, him.” With a deep breath, you turned around to face the man — it being none other than Lee Heessung, the embodiment of your personal nightmare, standing there with an unimpressed expression.

Heeseung's lips curled into a smug grin as he met your glare, fully aware that he was the only one who had the power to make you lose your cool.

“C’mon, princess, you know I’m the perfect guy for you. You just have to accept it” The tall man moved nearer, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat as an electric tension filled the room, leaving you aware of the closeness between you both.

( more under cut. )

“All you have to do is say yes and I’ll give you everything you want” Heeseung’s voice was laced with sultry, and you could hear the smirk on his face. Your heart was beating faster and your mind was full of hesitation — but his hot breath on your skin couldn't make you seem to care.

You breathed out a shaky “yes,” and Heeseung’s mind buzzed with the urge to kiss you. He cupped your chin, gently guiding you against the wall, and at that moment, his biggest fantasy came true as his lips pressed against yours.

His breathing was shaky as his hand slid down to your waist, his cold, long fingers grazing your skin, making you gasp at the sensation. Heeseung had never dreamed of anything more — you were the only thing he had ever yearned for. And now, he had your lips on his.

PARK JONGSEONG

“Jay! Seriously, stop buying me so much stuff! You exclaimed, struggling to balance three bags of designer items. Jay, with an unbothered expression, seemed completely unfazed, making you even more frustrated.

“An expensive girl deserves expensive things.” Jay smirked, ruffling his hair while leaning against the wall. You glared at him, your frustration only making him more amused.

“Money won’t buy me” You clenched your teeth, arms crossed tightly as the bags tumbled to the ground, the thud resonating through the air. “Then how do I get you, baby?” Jay moved nearer, gently grasping your hand in his.

You breathed in, your body tensing — a gulp the only sound coming out of your mouth. “Do I give her all my attention?” He did exactly that. “Do I treat her like a gem?” That too. “Or should I just tell her what I feel?” He hasn’t quite done that.

Tension hung in the air as Jay leaned in closer, a smug grin on his lips. “I think I’ve figured it out,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. He pulled you in, kissing you slowly, and you melted into the moment, returning his kiss with the same amount of fervor he felt, the world around you fading away as you lost yourselves in each other.

Jay held your face in his hands as he pulled you closer, the kiss deepening as he felt his mind go insane from how badly he craved you and the fact that he could finally call himself yours.

SIM JAEYUN

“You’re like a dumb puppy chasing me around everywhere, just bother some other girl!” You burst in anger, and you yelled at the man in front of you. But instantly, you felt a twig of guilt in your chest from your mean words.

You glanced up to apologize, but to your surprise, Jake was smirking at your outburst, appearing more amused than offended by your reaction. “I take pride in that, princess” You frown at him and pout — why is he so stubborn?

“Can’t you be sane for once and leave me alone?”Frustrated, you throw your arms up as Jake leans against the wall, staring down at you. His composed expression only fuels your anger more, walking up to him as you pull him by his shirt.

Jake's expression shifted to a more serious one, causing your heartbeat to quicken, an undeniable tension filling the air around you. “Do I look sane to you?” You gulped as Jake reached out gently, lifting your chin to ensure you met his gaze.

The room fell silent as you both stood still, gazing into each other's eyes. Jake gently brushed his thumb against your lips, causing your breath to hitch. Seeking permission, he looked deep into your eyes, making you hesitantly nod before he eagerly brought his lips to yours.

Jake's kiss was filled with desperation and longing, as if he'd waited for this moment forever. His mind chanted your name like a prayer while he held your hands loosely, then shifted your position, pinning them against the wall. He opened his eyes to look at you, and it was clear to anyone how intensely he desired you.

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re insufferable” Sunghoon's lips curled into a flirty smirk as he flicked the lighter in his hand, igniting the tip of his cigarette, the soft flame brightening a slight orange glow his face,

Sunghoon inhaled and puffed out the smoke, his expression completely unbothered by your nagging, which only fueled your frustration “I told you to stop smoking multiple times!” You took the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground.

Sunghoon sighed and met your glare. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, tilting his head and tousling his hair. You couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief at how unbothered he was at your scolding.

"I can't stand it, you know. It's causing you pain." You fold your arms, pouting in frustration as Sunghoon raises an amused brow. "So you actually care about me?" Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, trying to defend yourself and deny his assumptions knowing he’s right.

"Help me then" you blink in confusion. "How?" Sunghoon leans in, his gaze sultry as he fixates on your lips, causing your heart to race. “This,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand before kissing you eagerly. Surprised, you hesitate for a moment but then find yourself kissing him back, caught in the intensity of the moment.

You shut your eyes as Sunghoon draws you nearer, his large hand tenderly stroking your hair. The lighter slips from his grip, hitting the ground — his desire palpable, evident in the way his kiss feels so desperate and needy.

rbgs are very appreciated ! wanna be updated on all my works? join the taglist ^^

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kawoala · 1 day ago

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Your requests are opennn and I just saw the tsukishima fic and i luv ittt! May i request a prompt wherein kei and managerf!reader have been dating in the middle of the school year for a while and the team finds out? Thankss

𝐊𝐄𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 what is going on word count ; (1,225) content warning ; (sorry it took me so long to answer - i want to say i was perfecting it but really i was procrastinating, secret relationship unveiled, talkative mom, second year! tsukishima)

The gym is hot. It’s usually hot, what with all the players running up and down the court, breaking a sweat, breathing heavily, but today feels different. Maybe the twenty year old AC system has finally kicked the bucket.

The bleachers on either side of the gym are packed with people from both Karasuno and Ichibayashi. You’re not sure why so many people showed up, but you don’t really care. You sit next to Yachi on the bench where the team sits during time-outs, fanning yourself with your clipboard.

“This sucks,” you say to nobody in particular. Yachi is on one side, but there is a first year on the other side. You turn to the blonde girl, who’s staring intently at the court, and exhale dramatically. “Yachi, I said this sucks.”

“No, I heard you the first time,” she says nonchalantly, though you can see her trying to fight the smile threatening to break out on her face. She turns to look at you, letting her head lull to the side. “How can this suck, Y/n? We’re winning!”

You blink at her a couple times. “We haven’t lost a single set to Ichibayashi since before Suga-san’s first year. If we lose, I’m quitting as a manager.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the game. You scrunch up your face, but do the same, eyes dead set on finding Kei.

He always looks so handsome on the court. You often tell him that he goes into The Zone when he plays volleyball, but he just rolls his eyes and calls you weird. It would make you sad if you didn’t realize pretty early that his love language is shit-talking.

You watch him leap off the ground, effectively blocking Ichibayashi’s ball and scoring a point for Karasuno. You don’t realize until the crowd behind you erupts in cheers that the point he scored was the winning point.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, and you stand quickly, clapping your hands together in excitement. Yachi does the same beside you, and so do the rest of the benched players.

You watch Karasuno shake hands with the other team, thanking them for a good game, and then it’s done. You’re packing up your stuff, the team, including Kei, is headed to the locker room, but the call of his name startles you both.

“Oh, Kei!” You could hear that voice even if you were deaf. You turn slowly, watching your mother flag the tall boy down, calling his name like it means stop. “Kei! You played so well! I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner after this? You’re always welcome, but I’d like to invite you myself. Heaven knows Y/n will forget. How does that sound? I can call your mother if—”

“Mom!” Your voice echoes off the gym first, your sneakers against the waxy floor is next. You skid to a stop in between the two of them, eyes wide. “What are you doing?” You exclaim incredulously at her.

She raises her brows, obviously offended. “Excuse me, little girl. I’m inviting Kei to dinner tonight.” She clicks her tongue, putting her hand on her hip. You hate to say it, but this is where your attitude comes from and there’s no denying it. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with that.”

“I don’t, I just—” you cut yourself off, glancing around as you realize the whole team is staring at you. “I, um, was going to do that. I remembered, so you didn’t have to.”

She purses her lips, lifting her eyes to where Kei’s eyes presumably are. “Can you believe this? Angry with her mother because I invited someone she was already going to invite.”

“That’s not why I’m—”

“I know,” Kei cuts you off, patting you on the head a couple times. “Terrible, isn’t she?”

Your mother laughs, placing a hand on her chest like Kei is the funniest person she’s ever met. Spoiler alert; he’s not. She does have you in her life, after all.

“Okay.” You place your hands on her shoulders, turning her around towards the exit. “Time for you to go home and start working on dinner, yeah? We’ll be there in, like, thirty minutes.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she calls back with a wave of her hand. She glances back once more, giving Kei a tiny wave and big smile. Unbeknownst to you, he waves back.

When you turn around, you find the whole team still staring at you.

“What was that?” Ennoshita asks, narrowing his eyes.

You furrow your brows, tilting your head. “What was what? My mom’s crazy, don’t mind her.”

He hums, but Narita is nudging him into the locker room, mumbling something about post-game dinner ritual. Nishinoya and Tanaka are narrowing their eyes at you too.

“Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima to dinner at your house?”

“Yeah, why him, of all people. Why not me? I’m funnier and way handsome-r.”

You roll your eyes, but turn your attention to Kei and glare at him. “‘She’s terrible, isn’t she?’” You repeat in a mocking tone, scrunching your face up. “Do you hate me?”

”Wait, I’m confused.”

You look at Hinata and press your lips together. “When are you not?”

He. gives you a faux laugh and narrows his eyes— too many people have done that already, you’re starting to get a little annoyed. “Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima over to dinner and not one of us? Why does your mom like the meanest person in our year.”

Now, you hesitate. At the beginning of the year, you realized just how good Kei was at keeping secrets. You realized he didn't want all the drama that came with a public relationship, and neither did you, so you kept it a more private thing. That’s what was most comfortable for the two of you. However, it quickly became a nuisance. There were rumors of you two dating anyway, when Kei started being just the smallest bit nicer to you. It was harder to be around him and keep your feelings in check because, if you didn't, other people would find out and that would be a tragedy for the both of you.

”She’s my girlfriend, idiot.” The words coming from Kei shock you. Your head whips around to look at him so fast, you fear there might be a touch of whiplash involved. Your eyes are wide, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

”What are you doing?” You ask through gritted teeth, tone walking the line of sing-songy and mad.

He turns to you now, smiling softly. “It’s getting tiresome having to hide our relationship, isn’t it? Plus, people already thought we were dating.” He shrugs. “Give the people what they want, right?”

You smile back at him. You think Kei has changed a lot since first year— in a good way, of course. He’s kinder, softer, stronger. All of the hinges that have changed about him, also changed with you. You don’t know it yet, but you two have made each other better people in the time frame of your relationship at this moment.

”What?” Hinata exclaims, putting his hands on his head. “What do you mean you’re dating? How could you date him? He’s so— and you’re so— what is going on!”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #kawoala #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu!! tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei haikyuu #haikyuu tsukki #haikyuu!! tsukishima kei

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ledder4 · 3 days ago

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gost finaly meets y/n

Simon exhaled slowly as nervous energy began to flood his body. His fingertips tingled with the sudden urge to smoke, but the "no smoking" sign on the wall seemed to mock him. He had been nervous ever since he had noticed that this was actually happening. y/n was here. In London. Just now, after months of nothing but calls and messages. A strange situation, of course. A long-distance relationship with plans to move in together without ever meeting face to face... it was absolutely crazy.

That's why, when y/n first suggested moving to London to live with him, his initial reaction was a total refusal. Too quickly. He knew he'd find a way to end it all. Simon Riley was like that, no matter what callsign he used. Damaged. Broken. Toxic.

But y/n was fuckin' stubborn.

He fiddled with the sign in his hands, the black letters spelling out "y/n !" looked accusing - Soap's idea of waiting at the airport with a sign with their name on it, almost looking like a bloody lost puppy. Proof that he's gone soft.

Christ, but that didn't even matter anymore. He had already spent too much time pretending that keeping y/n at a distance and refusing to meet would make things easier. - Many times he backed down. Giving one-word answers and sometimes even going days without replying. He had never shown y/n his face, at most pictures of his body.

The physical distance was difficult, but it was safe and all that shit.

Riley had always been married to his job. Spending many hours in the barracks and rarely making time for his social life. The truth is that he has always been withdrawn in this aspect. Since he was a teenager, he hadn't had any relationships. He thought that romantic relationships seemed more trouble than they should be - the commitments, the obligations, the vulnerability.

Now here he was, standing at Heathrow airport on a busy Saturday morning.

Remembering the exact moment y/n first texted him after kicking his ass in an online game. How they exchanged sarcastic barbs about skill before the conversation moved elsewhere. To interests and mundane shit.

Every minute that passed quickened his pulse. The logical part of his mind knew that y/n's flight had landed twenty minutes ago. He knew there would be typical delays at customs and baggage claim. But the anxious, paranoid part of him was convinced that something had already gone wrong.

Maybe they saw him from a distance, grimaced at the sight of all 6'4 intimidating inches of him, and turned right around, thinking he looked like a bloody serial killer waiting to capture his next victim.

Fuckin' hell. What had he been thinking? This whole situation was mental.

Ghost stood motionless, his heart pounding in his chest as he spotted y/n walking down the busy hallway. The crowd of people seemed to fade away, his vision tunneling until all he could see was the person he had been talking to for months, the one who had somehow wormed their way under his skin without him even realizing it.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, but it was no use. The closer y/n got, the more his palms started to sweat and his mouth went dry. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle.

Fuck, they were even more beautiful in person.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He had seen their pictures, of course, but they didn't do justice to the real thing. The way they moved, the way their eyes sparkled, the way their smile lit up the whole damn room... it was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

He tried to take a step forward, to close the distance between them, but his feet felt like they were made of lead. He was frozen in place, his body refusing to obey his commands. It was like he was stuck in a dream, watching himself from the outside as y/n approached.

Say something, you fuckin' eejit.

The voice in his head snapped him out of his daze, and he finally managed to take a step forward. Then another. Until he was standing face to face with y/n, close enough to reach out and touch them if he wanted to.

"Hey," he said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "You made it."

It was a stupid thing to say, but it was the best he could come up with in the moment. His mind was too busy short-circuiting, trying to process the fact that y/n was actually here, standing in front of him, looking up at him with those fuckin' stunning eyes.

He wanted to say more, to tell them how happy he was that they were here, how much he had been looking forward to this moment... but the words stuck in his throat. He was just too fuckin' nervous, too scared of screwing this up.

So he just stood there, staring down at y/n like a bloody idiot, his heart hammering in

Ghost swallowed hard, his mouth feeling like it was full of sawdust. He tried to speak again, to say something, anything to break the tense silence that had fallen between them. But his tongue felt too big, too unwieldy in his mouth.

Fuck, why was this so hard?

He had faced down death countless times, stared into the eyes of men who wanted nothing more than to end his life. He had been tortured, beaten, and left for dead. But none of that compared to the sheer terror he felt standing here, now, in front of y/n.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Ghost felt like he was drowning. Those eyes, they saw right through him, into the darkest parts of his soul. Parts he had kept hidden, buried away, locked away in the depths of his mind. But y/n... they saw him. They saw the real him.

And they weren't running away screaming.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and he had to take a step back, needing a moment to catch his breath. He couldn't believe this was really happening, that y/n was actually here, standing in front of him, looking at him like... like they were happy to see him.

It was a foreign feeling, one he had never experienced before. Not like this, not with someone he... cared about. Fuck, he couldn't even bring himself to think the word. Love. It was too big, too scary, too fuckin' much.

But as he looked at y/n, he knew that's what this was. This feeling in his chest, this warmth that spread through his veins like liquid fire... it was love. And it terrified the ever-loving shit out of him.

What if he fucked this up? What if he said or did something wrong? What if y/n realized what a fucked up, broken mess he really was?

The thoughts raced through his mind, a never-ending cycle of doubt and fear. He had to take a deep breath, had to remind himself that he was Ghost fuckin' Riley. He had stared down the devil himself and lived to tell the tale. Surely he could handle this.

Right..?

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley

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thedensworld · 3 hours ago

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Reality Love Winner | K.Mg

Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, exes to lovers au!

Summary: Mingyu needs money, as well as you. So joining a reality dating show for money wouldn't hurt anybody right?

Hello everybody! First fic in 2025 and i hope you enjoy this lil fluffy fluffity fluff of Mingoo🥰

What he remembered about you the most?

A three-month relationship felt like a whirlwind—a fleeting moment of bliss before reality forced you both apart. It wasn’t that the love was absent; it was just overshadowed by the weight of your individual ambitions.

But even with its brevity, your time together left a searing mark on Mingyu. What stood out the most wasn’t the laughter, the conversations, or the shared dreams—it was the intimacy. He vividly recalled the nights when the two of you were tangled in his sheets, naked and desperate to escape the stress of your demanding lives. Heated kisses that turned into frenzied passion. Sloppy thrusts that silenced the chaos of the outside world.

Every encounter felt like an unspoken agreement to forget your struggles by losing yourselves in each other. Mingyu knew your favorite position by heart, learning your body as if it were a masterpiece he’d been tasked to perfect. He was meticulous, deliberate, obsessed. And every time, he was grateful for his early mornings at the gym, pumping iron and building strength—not just to look good, but to keep up with you.

On the wall, on the table, on the bed, or sprawled across the floor—Mingyu was always ready. Sitting, lying down, or standing, he gave you everything he had. It wasn’t just sex; it was an act of devotion, a way to show you how much he craved you, admired you, worshiped you.

What haunted him most wasn’t just the absence of those moments, but the fire you left behind. You were a storm he couldn’t forget, a fever that lingered in his veins long after you’d gone. He didn’t just remember you; he felt you, like a phantom touch, long after you’d both walked away.

For Mingyu, obsession wasn’t even the right word—it was something deeper, something primal. You were the one indulgence he never wanted to give up, the addiction he never thought he’d have to quit.

"Let's break up."

The words fell from your lips with a quiet finality, and he knew—this was it. The end. He had always known it would come to this, hadn’t he? Even from the beginning, there had been an unspoken truth lingering between the two of you.

You were too devoted to your work, pouring your heart and soul into a career that demanded every ounce of your time and energy. And Mingyu? He had his own empire to build, a business that consumed him in ways even he didn’t anticipate.

There was no space for you and him in the cracks of your busy lives, no room to nurture what little love you had managed to build. Every moment together felt like stealing time from a ticking clock, and the pressure of it all had slowly worn you both down.

Calling it quits was the better option, the logical one. Yet as he looked at you, standing there with that familiar fire in your eyes dimmed by sadness, he couldn’t help but wonder if logic was enough to soothe the ache in his chest. The ache of knowing that what could have been would never be.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to change your mind. He simply nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as the weight of reality settled over him. Because deep down, Mingyu knew that loving you had always been a beautiful impossibility.

However, Mingyu heard the news about you through Seungkwan, the friend who had introduced the two of you in the first place.

“She got involved with a senior and was manipulated. It wasn’t fair, but you know how companies work,” Seungkwan explained, his tone laced with disappointment.

Mingyu felt a rush of anger surge through him as the words sank in. You had worked your ass off, pouring everything you had into your career, only to be cast aside like that? It wasn’t just unfair—it was cruel.

As he stewed in frustration, an idea began to form in his mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to turn your current misfortune into an opportunity for both of you. He’d recently heard about Reality Show Love, a dating show still in the process of casting couples. The prize money was massive—enough to breathe life back into his struggling business and possibly even give you a fresh start.

All you had to do was agree.

When he called you one night to pitch the idea, your voice was sharp and unyielding. “I’m not doing it!”

“Come on, Y/n!” Mingyu countered, his tone pleading yet persuasive. “It’s not like we’re going to actually be a real couple. We just have to act a little, play the part, and scam the audience. Easy money!”

He quickly rattled off the prize amount, letting the number hang in the air. The silence on the other end of the line told him everything he needed to know—you were considering it.

“What do you think?” he pressed, the edge of excitement creeping into his voice. “We split it 50:50. Half for me, half for you.”

You exhaled, your hesitation audible, before finally muttering, “Alright. Deal.”

And just like that, the wheels were set in motion. The two of you now stood alongside three other couples in a luxurious villa meticulously prepared by the production crew. In the narrative crafted for the show, you were cast as a one-year-old couple—a boss and their assistant—an angle the casting team found intriguing enough to secure your spot.

“I think it’ll be more interesting if we have opposite charms,” Mingyu had suggested during one of your brainstorming sessions to make your ‘relationship’ believable. “Like a golden retriever and a black cat dynamic?”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across your face. “I don’t want to be the dog. That sounds exhausting.”

Mingyu huffed dramatically, crossing his arms. “Fine, I’ll take the golden retriever role. I’ve been a dog all my life, anyway. You can be the black cat—it suits your real personality.” His tone turned teasing as a sly grin spread across his face.

Your eyes narrowed. “Watch it, Kim Mingyu. You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself.”

The banter was light, but it was also necessary. Every detail of your fabricated relationship had to be convincing—not just to the production team, but to the millions of viewers who would be scrutinizing every interaction.

Once the introductions were complete, the couples were assigned their respective rooms, though there was a twist: men and women would be separated. It was part of the show’s strategy to create tension and test bonds. The host announced the premise of the competition. Over ten episodes, the couples would face various missions designed to showcase their dynamics and challenge their chemistry. Only one couple would make it to the end to claim the grand prize.

“Sounds pretty easy, right?” Mingyu whispered as the rules were being explained, leaning closer to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “As long as we keep working together.”

You glanced at him, catching the rare blend of excitement and determination on his face. “Easy for you to say,” you murmured back. “Just don’t forget your lines, golden retriever.”

Mingyu smirked, the confidence in his expression unshakable. “Don’t worry, black cat. I’ve got this.”

And as the cameras rolled, capturing every calculated glance and practiced smile, the real game began.

As two episodes aired, the reaction to you and Mingyu was massive. No one had expected a couple that looked like they walked straight off the pages of a magazine to join a reality dating show—and with such surprising charm, no less.

Viewers were captivated, fully buying into the backstory crafted for your relationship: a boss who had fallen in love with his assistant after working tirelessly together to build a business from the ground up. The narrative felt heartfelt and relatable, leaving audiences touched and rooting for you both.

Mingyu’s likeable persona quickly became a hot topic on the internet. His name trended on search engines for two weeks straight, with fans gushing over his effortless charisma and warm personality. A particular clip of him cooking breakfast for all the contestants went viral, drawing millions of views and flooding comment sections with admiration.

“Boyfriend material!”

“Kim Mingyu is the blueprint.”

“How can someone be this handsome and good at cooking?!”

The buzz surrounding him was electric, turning him into an overnight sensation. Meanwhile, your poised yet subtly feisty demeanor perfectly balanced his golden retriever energy, solidifying the two of you as fan favorites.

With each new episode, it became increasingly clear—you and Mingyu weren’t just playing the game. You were stealing the show.

To keep up with the growing tension and maintain the audience's interest, you and Mingyu had a private meeting to brainstorm new strategies to market your relationship as even more likeable.

“Should we make you anxious about all the attention I’ve gotten these past two episodes?” Mingyu suggested, a teasing glint in his eyes. You chuckled, feeling a flicker of hesitation. You had never lived a life filled with worry, so the idea felt a little foreign to you.

“Should I try, Y/n?” he pressed, raising an eyebrow as if daring you to bite. Mingyu still couldn’t wrap his head around how someone could live so carefree, with no worries to weigh them down.

You considered it, then threw out another idea. “Or maybe we could stress the point that you’re completely obsessed with me because I’m so pretty?”

Mingyu groaned, clearly not impressed. “Please, Y/n. You’re not helping your case.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, the playful frustration in his voice making you smirk.

“Or you could act jealous,” you continued, clearly enjoying the banter. “I could flirt with one of the other cast members. Get some real drama going.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened in mock horror, then lit up with excitement. “Brilliant!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “People love watching someone else get jealous. It’s perfect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. As ridiculous as it was, you knew one thing for sure: the next few episodes were going to be a whole lot more interesting.

As the next few episodes aired, you followed through with the plan—interacting more with the other male cast members, engaging in lighthearted conversations, laughing a little too easily, and making sure the cameras were capturing every moment. You could feel Mingyu's eyes on you, though he pretended to stay calm. But it didn’t take long for his frustration to show. The subtle way his jaw tightened when you spoke to the others, the barely noticeable sighs, and the way his gaze lingered on you longer than usual—it was all too obvious.

And, of course, the cameras were quick to catch it. The production team loved the drama, and it didn’t take long for the clips to go viral. The viewers ate it up, with fans speculating whether Mingyu’s frustration was real or just another part of the act. Was he truly jealous? Was the "golden retriever" becoming possessive over his "black cat"?

Behind the scenes, the tension was palpable. The other women started to notice too, their glances sharp as you exchanged playful remarks with the other men. The whispers began to spread, and soon it was clear: they weren’t just jealous of your interactions with the men—they were envious of the attention you were getting from everyone.

“Did you see how Y/n was acting with him?” one of the women muttered, her voice low but full of disdain. “She doesn’t even care about Mingyu. It’s like she’s trying to make him jealous on purpose.”

“Exactly,” another woman added, eyeing you from across the room. “It’s disrespectful. If she really cared about him, she wouldn’t be all over everyone else.”

You could feel their eyes burning into your back, but you played it cool, smiling and continuing your act. After all, it was all part of the game. But the other women’s comments only made the drama more intense. The cameras were always watching, capturing every move, every subtle exchange, making sure the growing animosity was on full display for the viewers.

Meanwhile, Mingyu’s behavior was becoming more and more erratic. He'd snap at the smallest things, acting like every interaction you had with the other men was a betrayal. His reactions—though exaggerated—were feeding into the narrative the producers wanted: a couple on the brink of imploding.

“You’re making it hard for me to stay calm, Y/n,” Mingyu muttered one evening, when the two of you were alone, as the cameras rolled. “Everyone’s watching, and you’re just giving them what they want.”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “What do you mean? I’m just being friendly.”

But you could see the struggle in his eyes. It wasn’t easy for him to pretend it didn’t bother him.

The drama between the two of you was escalating, and with it, the show’s viewership skyrocketed. Fans were torn between rooting for your playful chemistry and wondering just how far Mingyu’s jealousy would go before everything exploded. The producers were thrilled, and for the first time in the show’s history, the audience was completely invested in your “relationship.”

By the time the fifth episode aired, the tension had reached a boiling point. The producers, eager to keep the drama flowing, decided to bring up something that would really shake things up: the couples' pasts. The production team had asked each couple to submit stories from their past, their struggles, and moments from their present lives to add depth to their on-screen personas. You and Mingyu, caught up in the whirlwind of the show, had submitted a mixture of made-up tales and, honestly, a few true stories—mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to fabricate everything.

But the producers, ever the masterminds of manipulation, weren’t content with just the surface-level drama. They chose to highlight certain moments—stories that you didn’t expect to come to light. One of those stories was about your three-year relationship with your ex.

You sat there, feeling a lump form in your throat as the host casually brought it up.

“So, in your past, Y/n, you had a significant relationship that lasted three years,” the host began, looking at you with a knowing smile. “Can you tell us about that?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the room shift. Mingyu shot you a concerned glance, but he quickly masked it with his usual carefree smile, trying to play along with the show’s narrative.

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. It wasn’t just another story—it was your story. The pain, the memories of that time, resurfaced like a wave crashing over you. You had tried so hard to bury it, to move forward with Mingyu and keep your focus on the present, but here it was, dragged out into the light.

“I… it was a complicated time,” you began, your voice shaky, trying to maintain your composure. "We were in different places in life. It ended because of... differences in what we wanted, what we valued."

The host nodded, prompting you to continue. "It’s just hard to let go of someone you spent so much time with, especially when the future felt uncertain. But I thought I had moved on… until now."

The words hit harder than you expected, and your mind raced with all the unresolved emotions tied to that past. You had moved on from your ex, yes, but the scars it left were deeper than you had allowed yourself to acknowledge.

As the story played out on-screen, you could see Mingyu's eyes flicker with a mix of concern and something else—something that felt too close to discomfort for comfort. The producers, with their expert timing, had turned a lighthearted conversation into something raw, something personal.

“And how does Mingyu feel about you sharing this part of your past?” the host asked, turning the spotlight onto him.

Mingyu’s smile faltered for a second, the weight of your past suddenly making him uneasy. He leaned forward, looking directly at you, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension rising. "It’s just a part of her story," he said with a slight chuckle. "I’m not worried about it. I trust her."

But you could tell it wasn’t as simple as that. The air between the two of you shifted, just for a moment, and the playful, teasing dynamic you had spent episodes building seemed to falter.

The room grew quiet, and the cameras were rolling, capturing every inch of your discomfort. Mingyu, ever the showman, quickly recovered, but his earlier comment about trusting you sounded more like a plea than a statement of confidence.

The host pushed on, sensing the discomfort. “So, Y/n, do you think you’ve fully healed from that relationship? And how does it affect your relationship with Mingyu now?”

You took a breath, trying to regain control of the situation. You didn’t want to seem vulnerable—not on national TV, not when you had built a persona of the confident, carefree woman. But the question hit you in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“I... I thought I had,” you said softly, eyes dropping to the table for a moment. "But sometimes, things from the past come up, and you realize there are still things you need to process. It’s not always easy."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension, the cameras capturing the moment for the world to see. You could almost feel Mingyu’s gaze on you, but you didn’t look up. He didn’t need to know how much that relationship still affected you. You were here now. You had him now.

But the damage was done. The audience, the cast, and even Mingyu were left to stew in the emotions that had been stirred up. The past was never truly gone—it was just waiting for the right moment to resurface, and now everyone could see the cracks in your carefully constructed armor.

As the episode ended, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a turning point. Mingyu had already taken the role of the jealous, possessive partner in this show, but this revelation might be more than he could handle. You couldn’t tell if it was the game or real feelings on his part, but something about this challenge had just gotten a lot more complicated.

Mingyu drove you home in silence, the weight of the day hanging heavy in the air. He hadn’t expected your real story to be exposed on national TV. It wasn’t just part of the game anymore—it was raw, unfiltered, and it had clearly shaken you. He parked his car in the basement of your apartment building, and without saying much, he helped you carry the bags and equipment from the shoot to your unit.

"Thanks," you said softly, your voice still a little strained, though you tried to mask it.

He nodded, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment, noticing how your mood had completely shifted since the shoot. The lightness you had carried with you before seemed to vanish, replaced by a palpable weight.

"Hey... You okay?" Mingyu finally asked, his tone careful, as though testing the waters.

You nodded, though it felt mechanical. "Yeah... just tired."

He watched you for a moment, but the tightness around your eyes and the way you held yourself told a different story. Something was off. Mingyu tightened the line of his lips, unsure of what to say next, but his instincts told him to push just a little more.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said, his voice low but earnest.

You shook your head slowly, your palm instinctively rising to cover your face. The sob that escaped was uncontrollable, the emotion you had kept bottled up for so long suddenly breaking free. You hadn't realized how much of it had been building inside you until that moment.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, his heart sinking as he saw the vulnerability in you that you usually kept hidden. He immediately stepped forward, closing the distance between you, and pulled you into his arms.

"Oh... Y/n... it’s okay," he whispered, his hand gently rubbing your back as he held you. He didn’t say much more—there was no need for words. His embrace, steady and comforting, was all you needed in that moment.

He didn’t push you to explain. He simply held you as the tension in your body began to release, feeling the weight of everything you’d been carrying.

Mingyu held you tightly, his embrace warm and steady. The sound of your sobs was muffled against his chest, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside your small apartment felt miles away as you allowed yourself to break down, to release everything that had been building up inside of you.

He gently stroked your hair, his fingers moving in soothing circles as he waited. His chest tightened, heart aching at the rawness of the pain you were carrying. He wanted to ask you what had happened, why the past hurt so much. But he knew better than to push too hard, too fast.

"You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready," Mingyu whispered, his voice soft but filled with concern. "I’m here. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen."

You pulled back slightly, your face still hidden behind your hand as you wiped your tears. It was a small, fragile moment, the kind of thing you didn’t allow anyone to see. You had built walls around your emotions, convinced that vulnerability only made you weak. But in that instant, with Mingyu, the walls began to crumble.

"I didn’t want them to know," you said, your voice breaking. "Not like that. Not on national TV. It feels like... like I have no control anymore."

Mingyu’s expression softened, and he reached up to gently lower your hand from your face. He looked at you with those warm, steady eyes of his—eyes that had seen your strength but never pressured you to be perfect.

"You don’t have to control everything," he said quietly. "It’s okay to let go sometimes. It’s okay to not have everything figured out."

You stared at him, feeling a mix of gratitude and confusion. You had always prided yourself on being independent, not needing anyone. But now, in this vulnerable moment, Mingyu’s words pierced through the walls you had built around your heart.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I didn’t mean to bring this into the show. I didn’t mean to drag you into it."

Mingyu shook his head gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture of comfort. "You don’t need to apologize to me. You’re not dragging me into anything. I chose to be here, with you." His voice grew steadier, more certain. "And I’m not going anywhere."

The sincerity in his words settled around you like a blanket, comforting and warm. You had always admired Mingyu’s ability to stay calm under pressure, but now, seeing him so open with you, a part of you finally let go.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to lean into the comfort of someone else, to let your guard down without fearing rejection or disappointment. Mingyu didn’t look at you like you were broken. He didn’t judge you for your past, for the messiness of your emotions. He simply accepted you for who you were in that moment.

As the silence stretched on, you took a deep breath, your tears slowing. It wasn’t that everything was fixed—it was far from that—but for the first time, you felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe things didn’t have to be perfect. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do it all alone.

Mingyu’s arms were still around you, his presence a quiet reassurance that you weren’t as alone as you thought. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe it.

It was a collaborative game, and the tension was palpable. Blindfolded, Mingyu had to follow your instructions to retrieve an item. The more valuable the item, the more points you and Mingyu would earn. You both managed to snag a teddy bear, worth 75 points—second only to a ring box, which was worth 100. The competition was heating up.

The next game was a chase. You and the other female contestants would chase after your partners and try to rip off their sticker. The energy was high, and it was clear that both you and Mingyu were in it to win. Mingyu had always been competitive; winning was almost a reflex for him. And you? You were determined to do anything it took to secure the victory. It made for the perfect dynamic between the two of you.

You sprinted after Minho, Suji’s partner, moving with precision, waiting for the perfect moment to slyly rip the sticker from his back. Meanwhile, Suji, who was supposed to be focusing on Mingyu, couldn’t help but get distracted by the sight of you in full chase mode.

With a triumphant grin, you tore the sticker off Minho’s back and bolted toward Mingyu. You threw your arms around him in celebration, his smile wide as the buzzer signaled the end of the round. His sticker had remained intact, and your victory was assured.

As everyone gathered for a well-deserved break in the gazebo, refreshments were passed around, and Mingyu handed you a glass of orange juice and some sweets with a thoughtful smile. You couldn't help but think that his gesture was more for the audience's benefit—especially since all the other women were stealing glances at the two of you. The chemistry between you and Mingyu was undeniable, and it wasn’t lost on the others.

Teasingly, you reached up and softly rubbed his cheek, your fingers grazing his skin as you leaned in closer. "Good job, baby," you murmured with a grin.

Mingyu froze for a moment, genuinely surprised. The blush creeping onto his cheeks was almost impossible to hide, his ears tinged with the faintest shade of red. He turned quickly to grab his own drink, still flustered, trying to compose himself. The effortless chemistry between the two of you was apparent, and though the cameras caught it all, neither of you seemed to mind.

As the cast mingled around the gazebo, you noticed Mingyu standing nearby, fidgeting slightly while sipping his drink. His earlier blush hadn’t completely faded, and it made you smile to yourself. Stepping closer, you nudged him gently, making sure the cameras had a clear view.

"Hey," you said softly, your tone full of warmth. "Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself during the game, did you?"

Mingyu turned to you, his expression softening immediately. He set his drink down, leaning slightly toward you as if to close the gap. "Me? Hurt? Come on, babe, you know me better than that," he replied with a playful smirk.

You crossed your arms, feigning a skeptical look. "Oh, really? I saw how Suji almost tackled you earlier. It looked intense."

He chuckled, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on your arm, a small but noticeable gesture caught by the cameras. "She tried, but you know I wasn’t going to let anyone mess with my sticker. Besides," he added, his voice lowering, "you were the one I was worried about. Did Minho give you a hard time?"

"Not even close," you replied with a grin, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "He underestimated me, and I had him cornered in no time. But honestly, you didn’t have to worry about me."

Mingyu tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Of course I worry about you. You’re my girlfriend. It’s kind of my job, you know."

You laughed lightly, but his words and the gentle way he looked at you made your cheeks heat up. Playing along for the cameras, you reached out to adjust the collar of his shirt, letting your hand linger just a bit. "Well, if it’s your job, you’re doing pretty well so far," you teased.

His ears turned a little pink at the affectionate gesture, but he recovered quickly, placing his hand over yours. "And you? You were incredible out there. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without you."

"Stop," you said with a playful shove, though your smile was genuine.

Mingyu caught your hand before you could pull away, intertwining his fingers with yours just enough to make it look natural but undeniably intimate. "I’m serious," he said, his tone softer now. "You’re the reason we’re killing it out here."

The subtle touch, the way his voice dipped just enough to make it personal, and the little glances exchanged were all perfectly timed for the cameras. From the outside, it looked like a real moment of connection—and for a fleeting second, even you weren’t sure how much of it was just an act.

The night air was cool, but the crackling fireplace in the center of the group cast a warm glow, creating a cozy atmosphere. Everyone sat in a loose circle, bundled in blankets, sipping warm drinks, and buzzing with energy. The production team had introduced a truth-or-dare session as part of the episode, and it didn’t take long for things to heat up.

Each couple was put on the spot, tasked with either revealing secrets or proving their chemistry through daring challenges. You and Mingyu were relentless, using every opportunity to push the other couples to their limits.

"Truth or dare?" Mingyu grinned devilishly at Suji and Minho, leaning forward slightly.

Minho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dare," he finally said, clearly regretting it the moment Mingyu’s eyes lit up.

"Alright," you jumped in, smirking as you exchanged a look with Mingyu. "Minho, we dare you to serenade Suji. Let’s see if you can melt her heart with your voice."

The group erupted in laughter as Minho reluctantly grabbed a nearby guitar. Suji’s amused but skeptical look was priceless, and the whole scene played out perfectly for the cameras.

But soon, it was your turn.

"Truth or dare, Y/n and Mingyu?" Minho asked, his earlier payback evident in his mischievous tone.

You glanced at Mingyu, who shrugged, his grin challenging. "Dare," you both said in unison.

Minho leaned back, his smile spreading. "We dare you two… to make out. Right here, right now, in front of everyone."

The group collectively gasped, the dare sending waves of anticipation through the circle. The cameras zoomed in, catching every reaction.

You turned to Mingyu, raising an eyebrow. "You game?"

Mingyu chuckled, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk. "It’s just for the cameras, right?" he whispered, leaning a little closer to you.

The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, the fire casting flickering shadows across everyone’s faces. All eyes were on the two of you, waiting. Mingyu reached for your hand, his palm warm and steady against your own. The simple touch sent a ripple through you, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the crowd and the rolling cameras.

He tugged you closer, his tall frame leaning down slightly to meet you. His free hand found its way to your waist, the pressure gentle but grounding, like he was anchoring you to him amidst the tension that seemed to thicken the air.

"Alright," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper meant only for you. His breath brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Let’s give them a show."

You swallowed, your pulse quickening. Mingyu’s gaze held yours for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, a flicker of something unspoken in his deep brown eyes. Was it amusement? Confidence? Or something softer, more genuine? You couldn’t tell, and it only made your heart race more.

As you leaned in, the world around you seemed to blur. Your lips met his, soft at first, a tentative touch that betrayed the scripted nature of the dare. But then, something shifted. Mingyu’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepened.

His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that felt almost too natural, too real. The crackle of the fire and the murmurs from the others faded away entirely. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped in a bubble that no one else could penetrate.

Your hands instinctively found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his touch seeped through you, mingling with the fire’s heat and the faint scent of woodsmoke in the air.

Mingyu tilted his head, adjusting the angle, and the kiss grew more deliberate. His thumb brushed your waist in a subtle, almost comforting gesture. Was he trying to reassure you? Or was he just as caught up in the moment as you were?

Your emotions were a whirlwind. There was the rush of performing for the cameras, the thrill of the audience’s attention, but also something deeper—something unexpected. The kiss felt too perfect, too seamless, as though it wasn’t just an act.

When you finally pulled away, the spell broke. The group erupted into cheers and whistles, their energy breaking the tension like a dam giving way. Mingyu didn’t let go immediately. His hand lingered at your waist, and his lips, now curved into a satisfied smile, glistened slightly in the firelight.

His gaze met yours, and for a second, the world seemed to slow again. There was a flicker of something behind his playful smirk—a softness, a warmth that made your chest tighten.

"Not bad," he said quietly, his voice teasing but layered with something else, something almost unreadable.

You tried to steady your breath, forcing a grin to match his. "Not bad yourself."

As you turned back to the group, the cheers and teasing chatter filled the air, but your mind lingered on the kiss. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about it had felt undeniably real—and by the way Mingyu’s hand brushed against yours as he moved to grab a drink, you wondered if he might have felt the same.

The shoot for the next episode had wrapped up, but the atmosphere off-camera was far from celebratory. A lingering tension buzzed in the air, and it all traced back to a bombshell dropped by Woorin, one of the female cast members, during a game.

“Are you two really a couple?” Woorin’s voice had cut through the lively chatter like a knife, her words laced with suspicion.

The question wasn’t lighthearted. Her tone carried weight, and the shift in the room was immediate. The other cast members exchanged glances, while the production crew subtly stopped what they were doing, their attention now laser-focused on you and Mingyu.

You exchanged a fleeting look with Mingyu, your heart pounding. You both knew this question might come up eventually, but not like this. Mingyu was the first to speak, his voice steady despite the pressure.

“Of course, we are,” he said with a confident smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders for good measure. “Why would we fake something like that?”

But Woorin wasn’t convinced. “Really?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Because I heard something… interesting.”

Your stomach dropped as Woorin leaned forward, her demeanor more like a detective than a reality show cast member.

"You know,” Woorin said, her voice calm but calculated as she glanced between you and Mingyu. “This whole act of yours? It’s really convincing. Almost too convincing. Especially considering… you two are exes.”

Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud. The other cast members froze, their eyes darting between you and Mingyu. The production crew exchanged worried glances, unsure whether to keep filming or intervene.

You felt the blood drain from your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at Mingyu, who seemed equally caught off guard.

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu asked, his tone attempting nonchalance, though his jaw tightened.

Woorin smirked, clearly enjoying the drama. “Oh, come on,” she said. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. A little digging, a chat with some mutual acquaintances… and voilà. You two used to date, didn’t you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The cast members leaned in, their curiosity piqued. Even the cameras seemed to loom closer, capturing every flicker of emotion on your faces.

Finally, you found your voice. “That’s none of your business,” you said firmly, trying to regain control of the situation.

“But it is everyone’s business, isn’t it?” Woorin countered, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been parading around as this perfect couple for the cameras. Don’t you think the audience deserves to know the truth?”

The director immediately called for a break, and the cameras were turned off. The producer stormed onto the set, pulling you and Mingyu aside for an emergency meeting.

Inside a quiet room, the producer’s expression was a mix of frustration and concern. “Is it true?” they asked, their voice low but intense. “Were you two in a relationship before this show?”

You hesitated, your gaze darting to Mingyu. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Yes,” he admitted. “We dated. But it was a long time ago.”

“How long ago?” the producer pressed.

“A year ago,” you said quietly. “It ended on good terms. We’re just… friends now.”

The producer let out a deep breath, pacing the room. “This is a nightmare,” they muttered. “If this gets out, it’ll overshadow the entire show. The audience will think everything’s staged.”

Mingyu stepped forward, his voice steady. “We didn’t plan this to deceive anyone. We’ve been doing our best to play our roles and keep things professional.”

The producer stopped pacing, their gaze sharp. “Professional? You call this professional? Woorin just uncovered your past in front of everyone. How are we supposed to recover from this?”

“We’ll handle it,” you said, your voice stronger now. “We’ll find a way to address it without ruining the show.”

The producer shook their head but finally relented. “Fine. But we’re going to need a strategy. You two need to be on the same page, and no more surprises.”

As the meeting ended, you and Mingyu were left alone in the room, the weight of the revelation pressing down on both of you.

Mingyu finally spoke, his voice soft. “I didn’t think Woorin would dig that deep.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, leaning against the wall. “But now that it’s out, we have to figure out what to do.”

Mingyu looked at you, his expression serious. “We’ve been convincing so far. Maybe we can still turn this around.”

You nodded, though your mind was racing. “We don’t have a choice,” you said. “We either control the narrative or let it control us.”

Mingyu smiled faintly, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “Then let’s give them a story they’ll never forget."

Mingyu decided to stay at your place after the chaotic shoot, both of you desperate to pitch a salvageable story to the production team. The stakes were high, and the tension between you two was palpable, though you masked it with humor and exhaustion.

“He threatened to kick us off the show, Y/n! What about our money?” Mingyu groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch beside you like a deflated balloon.

You rubbed your face, equally frustrated. “Min Woorin must be insanely jealous to dig that deep into our past. I mean, I didn’t even talk to her boyfriend. It’s not my fault he’s the one trying to be overly friendly with me!”

Mingyu nodded vehemently, his annoyance bubbling to the surface. “Exactly! That Juyoung bastard couldn’t stop staring at your butt the entire time. I swear, I’ll kick him in the face the next time he even glances your way!”

A moment of silence settled between you, both of you letting out a deep sigh in unison, the absurdity of the situation hitting you like a wave.

“What should we do, Mingyu?” you asked, your voice softer now, tinged with worry.

Mingyu raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “This wasn’t part of the plan, Y/n. Getting caught? That wasn’t in the cards.”

You leaned into his shoulder, seeking some sort of comfort. “Neither was this for me,” you murmured.

After a beat, you spoke again, your voice laced with hesitation. “Should we just… be honest about our story? I mean, if the audience reacts well, I’m pretty sure the producers will let us stay.”

Mingyu sighed deeply, his arm instinctively draping over your shoulders. “And what exactly is so interesting about our past story, huh?”

You tilted your head to look at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “The fact that you were completely obsessed with me?”

Mingyu snorted, his lips twitching into a smirk. “And you, who kept disappearing on me for a job that eventually fired you? Real romantic, Y/n.”

You jolted upright, indignantly slapping his arm. “Hey! That was not my fault!”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head as you settled back into your spot, leaning against him again. His teasing tone softened. “I’m kidding, Y/n. Relax.”

A quiet stillness filled the room as both of you let the exhaustion seep in. “Let’s sleep on it,” Mingyu finally said, his voice low and steady. “We’ll figure out what to say to the producer tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, he wrapped his arm tighter around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. It was so natural, so instinctive, that neither of you questioned it.

The weight of the day melted away as you both closed your eyes, the warmth of his presence lulling you to sleep. Without even realizing it, the two of you fell asleep together on the couch, tangled in a quiet understanding and comfort that only the two of you could share.

The next morning, you and Mingyu were summoned to an emergency meeting with the production team. Both of you arrived feeling uneasy, expecting the worst after the events of the previous day. However, to your immense relief, the team had come up with a new, more thrilling storyline to salvage the situation.

“We’ve decided to take a different approach,” the producer began, glancing between the two of you. “We’re going to reveal that you and Mingyu aren’t actually a couple. Instead, you’ve been part of an undercover mission to test the other couples’ loyalty.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Mingyu, the tension in your shoulders easing as the producer continued.

“This means that from the very start, there were only three real couples,” the producer explained, leaning forward with an air of excitement. “Your role will now be to challenge the loyalty and trust between the cast members and their partners, adding a layer of drama and intrigue to the show.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what happens if none of them survive the tests?”

The producer’s lips curled into a sly smile. “If no couple manages to stay together by the end, the two of you will win the prize money.”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the audacity of the new twist. “So, we’re basically the villains now?” you asked, tilting your head as you tried to process the sudden shift.

“Not villains,” the producer clarified, though their tone suggested otherwise. “Think of yourselves as catalysts for truth. You’re here to reveal the cracks in their relationships—or prove their strength, if they can survive.”

You groaned in frustration as Mingyu drove the two of you home. The sound startled him, and he jolted slightly in his seat.

“What’s wrong? You’re scaring me!” Mingyu exclaimed, glancing at you with wide eyes.

“Won’t we look like villains?” you blurted out, the weight of your earlier decision sinking in. “We’re going to break somebody’s relationship, Mingyu!” You slapped his arm lightly in protest, and Mingyu winced dramatically.

“Think about the prize, Y/n,” he countered, his voice calm yet persuasive. “You said it yourself—you need the money to start your design studio. This is our chance!”

You slumped back in your seat, letting out a defeated sigh. “You’re right,” you muttered, though the guilt still gnawed at the edges of your resolve.

“But it’s still so wrong, Gyu!!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up.

Mingyu smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he processed what you had just called him. “Wait, did you just call me 'Gyu'?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s your name. Kim Min Gyu. What else would I call you?”

He let out a hearty laugh, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “But you haven’t called me 'Gyu' since we broke up. No one ever says it the way you do—so affectionately.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know, right? I’m just so naturally affectionate,” you quipped, your sarcasm barely masking the flicker of emotion in your voice.

Mingyu chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. Without thinking, he reached over and pinched your cheek gently. “You’re so dramatic sometimes,” he teased, though there was a softness in his tone that made your chest tighten.

For a moment, silence filled the car, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with unspoken words, memories bubbling to the surface.

“Sometimes, I wonder why we broke up,” Mingyu murmured, his voice quieter now, tinged with regret.

You turned to look at him, your expression unreadable, before letting your gaze drift out the window. “Hm…” you hummed softly, as if lost in thought.

The air between you thickened with a mix of nostalgia, unresolved feelings, and the undeniable bond you shared. Neither of you said another word, but the weight of his question lingered in the car, refusing to be ignored.

As the car rolled to a stop outside your apartment building, you stayed quiet, your mind racing. Mingyu's words echoed in your head.

“Sometimes, I wonder why we broke up.”

It was such a simple sentence, yet it carried so much weight. You had been so sure you’d moved past what you and Mingyu had—so sure your relationship was part of a chapter you’d closed. But sitting beside him now, feeling the warmth of his presence and hearing the softness in his voice, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart stirred.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was humming under his breath, his fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel. The casualness of it all—the ease in which he fit into your life, even after everything—confused you.

Why does it still feel so natural?

“Y/n?” Mingyu’s voice broke through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing he had already turned off the car and was looking at you with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a small smile. But the truth was, you weren’t sure if you were okay. Not with the way your feelings were starting to shift.

Inside your apartment, the atmosphere was quieter, but your mind wasn’t. Mingyu helped you unpack the stuff from the shoot, his usual playful banter filling the space. He teased you about the way you had tripped during the game, mocked your competitive streak, and even reenacted how he "heroically" protected his sticker during the chase.

You laughed, but the sound felt hollow to you. Because as he moved around your living room, so comfortably as if he had never left, you felt your chest tighten again.

You hadn’t let yourself think about Mingyu this way in a long time. After the breakup, you buried the memories of him deep, convincing yourself it was better that way. But now, those memories were resurfacing—his laugh, his protectiveness, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he cared about.

And the way he had looked at you earlier in the car—like he still saw the world in you.

“Hey, Y/n,” Mingyu called, snapping his fingers in front of your face. You hadn’t realized you were staring at him.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been spacing out all evening,” he said, sitting beside you on the couch. He leaned closer, his face just inches from yours. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Your heart skipped. He always knew how to read you too well, and that was terrifying.

“Nothing,” you lied, breaking eye contact. “Just tired.”

But as Mingyu leaned back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, you knew it wasn’t nothing. Not anymore.

Because the feelings you thought you’d buried were resurfacing, blooming into something unfamiliar—something you weren’t sure you wanted to name yet. And sitting there beside Mingyu, you realized that no matter how much you tried to deny it, he was starting to become more than just your ex.

It was late afternoon, and Mingyu sat in a quiet corner of a chic café, laptop open as he skimmed through his emails. His attempt to juggle his business responsibilities with the chaos of the reality show had been taxing, but today’s meeting was a necessary step in keeping his plans on track.

The café door chimed, and Mingyu glanced up. A man entered, exuding quiet confidence. He was dressed sharply, his every movement composed and deliberate. Mingyu recognized him immediately—Wonwoo, the ex you had mentioned during the shoot, the one who had left a lasting impression on you.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened as Wonwoo approached. Of all the people he could have had a business meeting with, it had to be him.

“Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo greeted as he extended a hand, his tone polite but distant.

Mingyu stood, shaking Wonwoo’s hand. “Jeon Wonwoo. Thanks for making the time.”

The two men settled into their seats, the conversation starting off professionally. Mingyu kept his tone measured, his questions direct, but he couldn’t help the nagging thoughts that crept in.

This was the man who had been with you for three years. The man you couldn’t fully let go of, even when Mingyu had been in your life. Mingyu hated how easily those thoughts consumed him now.

As their discussion moved forward, Mingyu noticed something about Wonwoo that made him uneasy. The man was calm, composed, and had a way of speaking that drew people in—traits that Mingyu knew had probably captivated you once.

Toward the end of the meeting, Wonwoo leaned back, his gaze steady on Mingyu. “So,” he started casually, “you’re working with Y/n on this reality show, right?”

Mingyu stiffened, his hand tightening slightly on his coffee cup. “Yeah. What about it?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Wonwoo’s lips. “Just curious how she’s doing. It’s been a while since we talked.”

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed. “She’s fine. Doing great, actually.”

Wonwoo nodded, his expression unreadable. “Good to hear. She always had a way of pushing through tough situations. Guess that’s why she stuck with me for as long as she did.”

The words were light, but they hit Mingyu like a punch. He forced himself to stay composed, but his frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

“Y/n’s strong, no thanks to anyone else,” Mingyu replied, his tone sharper than intended.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, but instead of responding, he simply smiled. “Interesting.”

As Mingyu sat in his car after the meeting with Wonwoo, the weight of unspoken emotions pressed heavily on his chest. The encounter had been professional on the surface, but beneath the veneer of polite conversation, a storm brewed within him.

Mingyu had always prided himself on being confident—bold even. But something about seeing Wonwoo, the man who had been such a significant part of your life, unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He couldn’t shake the image of Wonwoo’s calm demeanor, the way he carried himself with an air of assurance. It made Mingyu feel... small. He hated it. The jealousy gnawed at him, an unfamiliar and bitter taste he couldn’t ignore.

"He’s the kind of guy people don’t forget," Mingyu thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tighter. The words Wonwoo had said about you—how strong you were, how you’d stuck with him—echoed in his mind, fueling an insecurity he didn’t want to admit existed.

"Did you love him more than me?"

The question haunted him, the one he asked during the last time you were together. It wasn’t just about love—it was about lasting impact. Mingyu couldn’t bear the idea that, even after all this time, Wonwoo might still hold a place in your heart.

The drive home was silent, save for the sound of his uneven breathing. His mind raced through memories of your relationship—your laughter, the way you used to look at him like he was your entire world. Somewhere along the way, he had lost that, hadn’t he? He had let you slip through his fingers, and now he was left grappling with the fear that maybe, just maybe, someone else had filled the void he’d left behind.

Somehow he found himself in your way into your apartment and saw you sitting there, looking up at him with surprise, the storm inside him reached its peak. He hadn’t planned to confront you, but the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“Do you still think about Wonwoo?”

The question hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Mingyu’s heart pounded as he watched your reaction. The way your eyes widened told him you hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to be so vulnerable, so shaken.

But he couldn’t hold it back anymore. The encounter with Wonwoo had forced him to face something he’d been avoiding: his growing feelings for you. They weren’t the same as they’d been before, during your relationship. This time, they were deeper, more desperate, tinged with the fear of losing you again.

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Because I don’t know where I stand with you. And seeing him—hearing about your history—it made me realize how much I hate the idea of not being enough.”

He felt exposed, like he’d just ripped open his chest and laid his heart bare. Mingyu had never been good at admitting his insecurities, but with you, it was different. You had always been different.

As you reassured him, your words sinking into his heart like a balm, Mingyu felt the tension begin to ease. But even as relief washed over him, there was still a lingering ache—a reminder of how much he wanted to prove himself to you. Not just as someone you had loved before, but as the person you could love again.

For Mingyu, it wasn’t just about rekindling what you’d had. It was about building something stronger, something unshakable. And in that moment, as he looked into your eyes, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to earn that place in your heart again.

The memory played vividly in Mingyu's mind as he sat in silence, staring blankly at his reflection in the car window. It was a conversation from a year ago, back when the cracks in your relationship had just begun to show—back when he still didn’t understand the weight you carried.

The words he’d overheard echoed in his mind, carving a painful clarity he hadn’t been prepared for. The reason behind your relentless work ethic—the late nights, the unwavering drive—had never made sense to him before. But now, as the pieces fell into place, the weight of it all hit him like a punch to the gut.

It was because of Wonwoo.

You had loved him enough to change yourself, to push yourself beyond limits, all in the hope of becoming what his family deemed "worthy." The thought of you, the bright, fierce person he knew, bending under the weight of someone else’s expectations was enough to make Mingyu’s chest tighten. He hated it—hated the idea of you sacrificing so much only to be rejected.

The mention of your broken engagement felt like a dagger twisting in his heart. An engagement. He hadn’t known things had been that serious between you and Wonwoo. It wasn’t just a fleeting romance or a long-term relationship—it was a promise of forever, one that had been shattered by people who had no right to decide your worth.

Mingyu’s hands clenched into fists on his lap as he recalled the times he’d teased you about your workaholic tendencies. He’d never realized there was a deeper pain driving you, a history that had left invisible scars. Now, knowing the truth, he felt an ache in his chest—part anger at Wonwoo and his family, part regret for not understanding you sooner.

When he saw you later that evening, sitting at your desk with your laptop open, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"Y/n," he called softly, his voice unusually subdued.

You glanced up, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. "What is it?"

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours. He saw the weariness in your eyes, the traces of a past you rarely talked about. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer and crouched beside your chair.

"I heard about... Wonwoo," he said quietly, watching your expression carefully.

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, he saw the walls go up, the instinctive way you guarded yourself when the past came up. "Who told you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It doesn’t matter," Mingyu replied, his hand resting lightly on your knee. "What matters is that I know now. And I’m sorry."

You frowned, confusion flickering across your face. "Sorry for what?"

"For not understanding sooner," he said, his voice tinged with frustration—at himself, at the situation. "For not realizing why you work so hard. I thought it was just ambition, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? You were trying to prove yourself to someone who didn’t deserve you."

Your lips parted as if to argue, but the emotion in Mingyu’s gaze stopped you. He shook his head slightly.

"Don’t defend him," Mingyu said softly. "Don’t defend a man who let his family’s opinion dictate his love for you. You deserve better than that, Y/n. You always have."

Mingyu felt a lump form in his throat as he watched you, the pain in your eyes piercing through him. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on yours.

"Y/n," he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "You didn’t have to change yourself for anyone. Not for him, not for his family. They were blind if they couldn’t see how amazing you are."

You turned to him, your gaze searching his, and for a moment, Mingyu thought he saw a flicker of hope in your eyes. But then, you smiled—a sad, resigned smile.

"Maybe," you said quietly. "But it doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t enough for him."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, to tell you that you were more than enough, that Wonwoo’s loss was his greatest mistake. But the words caught in his throat, because deep down, he wondered if he was any different.

He squeezed your hand gently, his heart aching as he whispered, "You’re enough for me."

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes dropping to where his hand rested on yours. And though you didn’t pull away, Mingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already slipping through his fingers.

It was a moment he would replay over and over in his mind, long after the breakup—wondering if he could have done more, said more, to keep you from walking away.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife as you stood by the refreshment table, filling your glass with water. Mingyu was off to the side, chatting with one of the cast members, but his eyes flicked over to you every few seconds, always keeping an eye on you.

That’s when you heard the sharp click of heels against the tiled floor. You turned just in time to see Woorin storming toward you, her face a mix of anger and hurt.

"Y/n!" she snapped, her voice loud enough to make heads turn. Before you could respond, she raised her hand, and the sound of the slap echoed in the room.

You staggered back, your hand flying to your cheek in shock. Gasps erupted from the surrounding cast and crew as everyone froze, unsure of what to do.

"What the hell, Woorin?!" Mingyu's voice roared across the room as he rushed to your side, placing himself between you and Woorin. His protective stance was immediate, his broad shoulders shielding you from her.

"She deserves it!" Woorin spat, her voice trembling with rage. "Do you think I don’t know? Juyoung’s been flirting with her—my boyfriend—and she just stands there like she’s innocent!"

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkened with fury. "Don’t you dare blame her for your boyfriend’s behavior," he growled. "If he’s flirting with someone else, that’s on him—not her."

Before Woorin could reply, Juyoung stepped forward, his face pale but determined. "Woorin, stop this," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "You’re overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Woorin turned on him, her voice breaking. "You’ve been flirting with her since day one, Juyoung! Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her!"

Juyoung sighed, his frustration evident. "I haven’t been flirting with anyone! You’re making something out of nothing."

"Nothing?!" Woorin’s voice rose again. "How about the way you kept standing near her during the games, or how you laugh at everything she says? Even your friend said you couldn’t stop talking about her before the show started!"

Juyoung groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You’re twisting things, Woorin. I’m just being polite and friendly. It’s a competition—we’re supposed to interact with everyone!"

Woorin’s tears spilled over as she pointed an accusing finger at him. "Polite? Friendly? You’ve ignored me for days and acted like I don’t exist, but you have time to chat with her?!"

"Enough!" Mingyu barked, his voice sharp and commanding. "This isn’t the time or place for your relationship issues. Don’t drag Y/n into this."

Juyoung raised his hands defensively, his eyes darting between Mingyu and Woorin. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m not interested in Y/Nln that way—she’s not even my type!"

The words stung, though you weren’t sure why. You held your tongue, your cheek still throbbing from the slap, as Woorin scoffed. "Oh, now you’re backpedaling. How convenient!"

Mingyu stepped closer to Juyoung, his presence looming. "You’ve said enough," he said coldly. "If you’re not interested in her, make that clear to Woorin and leave Y/n out of your mess."

Juyoung nodded hesitantly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Fine. Woorin, can we talk about this privately?"

Woorin hesitated, her anger simmering but waning. She cast one last glare in your direction before turning on her heel and storming out, with Juyoung reluctantly following her.

The room buzzed with whispered conversations as Mingyu turned back to you, his expression softening as he reached out to gently touch your arms. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You nodded, though your cheek still stung. "I’m fine," you murmured, but your voice betrayed the slight tremble in your chest.

Mingyu frowned, his hand moving to cup your face as he examined the red mark. "She had no right to do that," he said, his tone still simmering with anger.

"I know," you replied, your eyes meeting his. "But I can’t blame her for feeling hurt. Juyoung—"

"Juyoung’s an idiot," Mingyu interrupted, his voice firm. "And so is anyone else who can’t see how incredible you are without needing to blame you for their problems."

His words struck something deep inside you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. Mingyu’s thumb brushed gently over your cheek, as if he could erase the sting of Woorin’s slap with his touch.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the studio remained tense, with everyone still recovering from the incident with Woorin and Juyoung. But it seemed like there was no end to the drama. You noticed Suji walking over to Mingyu, her movements deliberate, her laughter just a little too loud. She stood a bit too close, touching his arm as she spoke, her eyes lingering on him in a way that didn’t sit well with you. You shifted in your seat, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Minho standing off to the side, his gaze fixed on the pair. His posture was rigid, his eyes narrowed, clearly irritated by what he was seeing.

He didn't wait long before he made his way toward you, his expression serious. When he reached you, he didn't mince words. "Y/n," Minho started, his voice low but urgent. "I need to talk to you about Mingyu."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "What about him?" you asked, glancing at Mingyu, who was still talking to Suji. His body language seemed polite, but there was a stiffness in it that made you wonder.

Minho hesitated, his eyes briefly flickering over to the pair again. "Suji," he said, his voice almost a warning. "She’s been trying to get his attention for a while now. She’s… impulsive, and honestly, I don’t think Mingyu understands how far she’ll go to get it."

You frowned, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. Suji was Minho’s girlfriend. "You think Suji’s flirting with Mingyu?" you asked, feeling a mixture of concern and confusion.

Minho nodded, his voice dropping lower as he stepped closer. "She doesn’t know when to stop, and she’s not as innocent as she looks. I’m telling you this because I care about both of you, and I know Suji can be manipulative when she wants something. She’s been acting like this for a while now, and I don’t want Mingyu getting caught up in it."

You glanced at Mingyu again. Suji was still leaning in, laughing a bit too much, her fingers lingering on his arm. You couldn’t deny the tightness that curled in your chest. Was she really pushing him in that direction? Was Mingyu even aware of what was going on?

"What do you want me to do?" you asked, your voice uncertain. Minho’s warning was ringing in your head, but you weren’t sure how to handle it.

"I think you should talk to him," Minho said, his eyes filled with concern. "Suji won’t back off easily. I just don’t want Mingyu to get blindsided, especially with everything else going on."

You nodded slowly, trying to process everything Minho had just said. "I’ll talk to him. Thanks for the heads-up, Minho."

Minho gave you a brief nod, his expression softening. "Just look out for him, Y/n. I know it’s complicated, but you’re the one who can get through to him. Just… make sure he doesn’t fall for her games."

You watched him walk away, but your attention immediately went back to Mingyu and Suji. There was no denying the way Suji was behaving, and you could feel that knot tightening in your chest. You knew you had to talk to Mingyu about it, but would he listen? Would he see the situation the same way?

With a deep breath, you made up your mind. You had to have this conversation with him before it spiraled any further.

The drive to Mingyu's house was quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the low rumble of the car's engine. The tension from the day’s events still hung in the air, and it wasn’t lost on either of you. Mingyu’s grip on the wheel tightened, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

As you approached his house, you couldn’t shake the conversation with Minho from your mind. You needed to talk to Mingyu about what had happened, especially considering how closely he and Suji had been interacting. But how could you bring it up without it sounding like you were overreacting?

Finally, as he pulled into the driveway, you broke the silence. "Mingyu," you began carefully, watching him glance at you briefly. "There’s something I need to tell you about Suji."

He raised an eyebrow as he turned off the engine, but he didn’t look entirely surprised. "What about her?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

You sighed, feeling the weight of Minho’s warning pressing down on you. "Minho talked to me earlier. He said Suji’s been acting a bit too… familiar with you. Like, she’s been trying to get your attention, and he’s worried she might be more manipulative than she seems."

Mingyu’s expression shifted, though it wasn’t one of defensiveness. It was more like he was processing the information. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice a little quieter than usual. "I’ve noticed it too," he admitted. "Suji’s been a little too clingy recently. But I don’t think she means anything by it. She’s just… been really forward. I’m trying to keep things respectful, but it’s hard when she doesn’t back off."

You felt a mix of relief and frustration. On one hand, you were glad Mingyu didn’t seem completely oblivious to the situation. On the other, you didn’t want him to brush it off too easily. "I just want to make sure you’re not caught off guard, Gyu," you said, using the nickname almost instinctively. "Suji can be pretty impulsive, and she’s done this before, according to Minho. She won’t stop until she gets what she wants."

Mingyu let out a deep breath, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "I get it, Y/n. I’ll keep my distance. It’s just… hard when she’s constantly around, and I don’t want to make things awkward, you know?"

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "Just be careful. You don’t owe her anything, and I don’t want to see you get dragged into her games."

He gave you a small smile. "Thanks for looking out for me. I promise I’ll handle it."

With that, you both stepped out of the car, walking toward the door of Mingyu’s house. As you entered, you quickly gathered the few things that had ended up in his luggage after the last shoot. You could feel Mingyu’s eyes on you, and the silence between you seemed heavier now, like there was more to be said but neither of you was quite ready to speak it.

Once you were done, you followed him into the living room where he sat on the couch, clearly still processing everything from the day. It felt like everything was slowly unraveling — the complexities with the cast, the personal dynamics, and the ever-present tension that seemed to follow you both. Mingyu’s gaze was distant, his mind clearly still processing everything. Then, without thinking, you spoke again, breaking the silence that had comfortably enveloped you.

"You know, Gyu," you started, your voice quieter than before, "I haven’t thought about Wonwoo in a long time."

Mingyu's head snapped toward you, eyes widening slightly. The mention of his name had been unexpected, a slip of your tongue. You could see the surprise in Mingyu’s face, but there was also a flicker of something else — curiosity, maybe, or perhaps something deeper.

"I mean," you continued, trying to gather your thoughts, "I know it sounds strange, but after everything… after all the mess with our past, I just realized I haven't really thought about him in a while. Like, I don't dwell on what happened anymore."

Mingyu didn’t immediately respond, his eyes focused on you now, studying your face carefully. You could tell he was trying to process this, the idea that you were finally letting go of the past.

"That’s... different," Mingyu finally said, his voice tentative. He shifted slightly on the couch, his arm brushing against yours.

"His shadow was constantly over me, even when I was with you. But now... I guess I just don’t feel it anymore. I can’t even imagine going back to him."

Mingyu didn’t speak right away, his gaze steady as if he was carefully choosing his words. His hand moved slowly, then rested on the space between you both, his fingers brushing against yours.

"I’m glad you feel that way," he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of relief and something else, something unspoken. "I think... I think I’m glad you’ve come to this point. I can’t change your past, Y/n, and I won’t try to. But I want you to know that I’m here. I’m here for you — no matter what happened with Wonwoo or anyone else."

The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. It was clear, though, that Mingyu had always been there, but this was different — more honest, more grounded.

"You’ve been so patient with me, Gyu," you said, your voice catching slightly, the emotions you had been keeping at bay bubbling up. "I don’t know what I did to deserve that."

Mingyu smiled softly, his thumb gently brushing against your hand. "You don’t need to do anything, Y/n. I’m not doing this because I feel obligated or anything. I’m here because I want to be." His eyes met yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

It was a shift in the air — a change that neither of you had expected. What had started as a complicated relationship, tangled with unresolved feelings and past wounds, now felt different. The emotional weight was still there, but there was a new layer to it — something that felt like it could build into something else, something neither of you had anticipated.

The quiet lingered, and the air between you both seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the steady rhythm of his breath, as if he was waiting for something. It was almost as if the universe had conspired for this moment, and you both could no longer ignore it.

Mingyu slowly leaned in, his fingers still lightly brushing against yours, and you could feel his warmth draw closer. There was an uncertainty in the way he moved, but it wasn’t hesitation. It was as if he, too, was giving you space to decide, to let you know if you were ready for this next step.

Your heart raced, and for a moment, you wondered if you should pull back, but something inside you urged you to stay. Mingyu had always been someone you could rely on, someone who, even through the ups and downs, had never wavered in his support for you. And now, in the stillness of the moment, there was only one thing you could do — let him in.

You didn’t pull away as his face inched closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. His eyes flickered to yours, searching, asking without words if you were ready. The tension between you both seemed to thicken with each passing second.

And then, as if he couldn’t wait any longer, Mingyu closed the gap, his lips pressing gently against yours. The kiss was soft at first, slow and tender, as if he were asking for permission to dive deeper into the connection between you two. His hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, felt more intense than the last. His kiss was a mixture of everything — of comfort, of longing, of a deep connection that neither of you had expected but were now willing to explore.

As the kiss deepened, you felt yourself respond instinctively, your body leaning into his, your hands resting on his chest. The warmth between you both was undeniable, and for the first time, you let go of everything else — your past, your insecurities, your doubts. In this moment, it was just Mingyu and you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing in sync. Mingyu rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I’ve never stopped caring about you, you know that, right?"

You nodded, your fingers still resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I know, Gyu," you whispered back.

The air between you two thickened, the energy palpable as Mingyu’s lips returned to yours with renewed urgency. The softness that once lingered turned into something more desperate, as if all the tension between you both was finally being released in that moment. His hands slid down your sides, pulling you closer to him, and you felt every inch of his body pressing against yours.

The kiss grew heated, the warmth of his lips and the feel of his body against you making your pulse quicken. His hand rested at the small of your back, pressing you even further into him as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that left you breathless.

Mingyu’s body hovered above yours, the weight of him both comforting and thrilling. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ribcage. You gasped slightly at the touch, the sensation sending a ripple of warmth through you, and you instinctively arched into him, eager for more.

He broke away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, eyes darkened with desire. His gaze flickered to your lips, and then to your eyes, searching for some kind of sign — a sign that you were okay, that you were still with him in this moment.

Mingyu’s lips found yours again, but this time the kiss was deeper, more intense, filled with an intensity neither of you had expected. His hands moved to your hips, lifting you just enough for him to settle closer, his body now pressing firmly against yours. The heat between you two grew, and it was impossible to deny how much you wanted him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, his kisses burning against your skin. You shivered beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders as the heat between you two escalated. Every touch, every movement, every shared breath seemed to make everything else fade away, leaving only the two of you in that moment, completely consumed by each other.

Mingyu pulled off his t-shirt in one fluid motion, and your hands instinctively reached for him, your fingers brushing against the familiar warmth of his skin. His toned muscles tensed under your touch, and for a brief moment, he paused, his darkened eyes locking with yours as though he were savoring the moment.

His hands worked with practiced ease, sliding your top over your head and unclasping your bra with the kind of confidence that only came from familiarity. His fingers brushed against your bare skin as he traced the contours of your body, a reverence in his touch that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

Leaning down, his lips brushed over your collarbone, trailing a line of slow, deliberate kisses to the swell of your chest. You gasped softly as his mouth made contact, the heat of his touch igniting something deep within you.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with awe and a sense of rediscovery. "You’ve always been beautiful."

With an almost effortless motion, his hands moved to unbutton your pants, sliding them down your legs in one smooth gesture, leaving only the delicate fabric of your underwear between you. His hands lingered, as though memorizing every inch of you, his gaze sweeping over you with a mix of desire and admiration.

Before you could fully process the moment, Mingyu’s strong arms scooped you up, lifting you off the couch as though you weighed nothing. The ease with which he carried you was both thrilling and grounding, his grip firm yet gentle. He held you close to his chest, his heartbeat pounding in rhythm with yours as he walked toward his bedroom.

When he reached the bed, he laid you down with care, his eyes never leaving yours. His lips claimed yours again, this time with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. His kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear.

The sensation of his touch against your most sensitive skin drew a soft moan from your lips, the sound muffled by his kiss. Every movement felt like a promise, every touch a reminder of the connection you once shared and the emotions that still lingered between you.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at you, his face filled with longing and tenderness. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "Tell me if it’s too much. I need you to feel safe with me."

Your breath hitched, overwhelmed by the mix of his words and the fire igniting between you. "I trust you," you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you realized.

His lips captured yours again, his touch growing bolder yet remaining respectful of your boundaries, as though rediscovering the delicate balance between passion and care that only he seemed to know how to navigate.

As Mingyu pulled back slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours, the space between you both felt charged with a quiet intensity. His breath came in shallow bursts, and for a moment, everything was still— except for the rhythmic beat of your heart. He looked at you with micture of reverance and affection, the weight of the moment settling between you both.

"Are you sure?" He whispered, his voice soft, laced with the same desired that had filled the air. His hands were gentle, as though he was waiting forya signal from, for any hesitation or doubt.

You nodded, a silent reassurance in your gaze. There was trust there, a bond that ran deeper than anywof the words or touched that had passed between you. In that moment, you knew he would never push you further than you were ready to go.

With that he found yours once more, tender and slow, as though savoring every second of the shared intimacy. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you— silent connected and united in that moment.

After the show ended, you and Mingyu returned to the real world, not as winners of the grand prize but as something far more valuable — partners in both love and ambition. The cameras stopped rolling, the bright lights faded, but the bond you’d forged under their glare remained steady.

Life didn’t slow down for either of you. The buzz from the show brought a wave of attention. Companies, producers, and directors sent offers for TV appearances, brand deals, and interviews. It was tempting to ride the wave of fame, but both of you had bigger dreams.

You decided it was finally time to build the dream you’d put off for too long — your own advertising studio. With the influx of opportunities, you knew you had the leverage to pitch your ideas to major companies. Your days were filled with back-to-back meetings, portfolio revisions, and late nights spent sketching out concepts. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. Every deal you closed felt like a victory. Every successful pitch fueled your belief that you were on the right path.

Mingyu’s path was equally ambitious. The show gave him visibility beyond the restaurant scene, branding him as more than just a chef or businessman — now, he was a figure people admired for his charisma and strategic mind. Invitations poured in for him to speak at business forums, guest on entrepreneurial podcasts, and even lead masterclasses for young entrepreneurs. At first, he hesitated. "I'm just a guy who wanted to make good food," he told you one night. But you reminded him, "And now you’re a guy teaching others how to dream bigger."

His growth was undeniable. His brand expanded, his restaurant saw more foot traffic than ever, and he even started mentoring up-and-coming chefs and small business owners. Seeing him lead discussions and inspire others only made you fall for him harder. He wasn’t just chasing success — he was building a legacy.

But success came with its own weight. Long hours apart, sleepless nights spent working on deadlines, and the occasional clash of schedules tested your relationship. Some nights, you’d find yourself sitting on the couch at midnight, laptop balanced on your knees, while Mingyu’s side of the bed remained empty until the early hours of the morning.

"Hey," he'd call softly from the doorway when he finally returned. He’d sit next to you, still smelling faintly of the kitchen or the cologne he wore for his TV appearance. “You should sleep.”

“Not yet,” you’d reply, eyes still on the screen.

“Then I’m staying up with you,” he’d say, wrapping an arm around you and resting his head on your shoulder. It didn’t matter how tired he was. He stayed.

You didn’t win the show’s prize, but you won each other. And in the grand scheme of things, that felt like the ultimate victory.

The second chance you gave each other wasn’t just about romance — it was about believing in your potential and supporting each other’s growth. Mingyu often joked that you were like his "favorite investment." You’d laugh, rolling your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was true.

On your one-year anniversary after the show, Mingyu surprised you by renting out a small art gallery to showcase the work of local artists — but at the center of it was a display dedicated to your journey together. Photos, clippings from interviews, and even a mock advertisement with the words “The Greatest Partnership” were displayed on a wall.

"Cheesy, right?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Cheesy,” you admitted, eyes welling up. “But it’s perfect.”

Second chances don’t come often, but when they do, they change everything.

"Y/n, Mingyu," Jiyeon started, tilting her head with a grin. "You two are probably one of the most talked-about duos from the show. Not just for your chemistry but for what you did after. Advertising studio, business empire — it's impressive, really. But I have to ask, did either of you see this coming?"

The interviewer, a sharp-witted woman named Jiyeon, sat across from you with a notepad resting on her knee, a pen twirling between her fingers. Her smile was relaxed but knowing, like she already had her headline written.

You glanced at Mingyu, letting out a soft breath that turned into a laugh. He tilted his head toward you, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Honestly, no. We went on that show thinking, 'Okay, let's win some money, maybe get a little publicity.' But life doesn’t always work out the way you plan."

You glanced at Mingyu, eyes crinkling with affection. "Sometimes, it works out better."

“Better, huh?” Mingyu teased, nudging your arm. "She’s just being nice. We were a mess on that show."

The room filled with light laughter from the crew.

Jiyeon leaned in, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Come on, tell me the truth. The whole world saw the way you two bickered. Was it strategy, or were there… feelings?" Her gaze was pointed but playful.

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a knowing smile. "Let’s just say it wasn’t strategy."

Mingyu let out a low laugh, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "There were feelings. A lot of them. I think at one point, I didn’t know if I wanted to win the challenge or just win an argument with her." He glanced at you, his grin softening. "Turns out, I wanted both."

Your eyes flicked to him, heart squeezing in your chest. The air around you grew a little quieter, more intimate, and Jiyeon caught it instantly.

“Power couple energy,” she said, grinning as she scribbled something in her notes. "But speaking of power, I have to say, you two are the definition of 'fake it till you make it.' Advertising studio, business brand, guest speaking gigs — you’ve built something big. What’s the secret?"

Mingyu scratched the back of his neck, his classic "I'm about to sound wise" move. “For me, it’s realizing that everyone’s faking it,” he said, his voice casual but firm. "No one has it all figured out, and once I accepted that, I stopped stressing so much about looking like I did. I just acted like I belonged, kept showing up, and one day, I realized — oh, I actually do belong here now."

The crew murmured their approval, a few heads nodding.

You nodded along with them, picking up where he left off. “For me, 'faking it' meant trusting that my ideas were good, even if I wasn’t sure. I pitched my first concept to a company with zero experience behind me, but I talked like I’d done it a hundred times. It’s scary, but sometimes, you have to believe in yourself before anyone else will.”

"That’s good," Jiyeon said, pointing at both of you with her pen. "I’m stealing that for the headline. Alright, last question before we wrap this up." She flipped through her notes, eyes scanning until she found something. Her gaze lifted with a spark of mischief. "Actually, I lied. I have one more thing before we finish."

You glanced at Mingyu, suspicious. "What do you mean, 'one more thing'?"

Jiyeon smiled like she’d been sitting on a secret all day. "Well, Mingyu told our team earlier that he had a little surprise planned for you."

Your eyes darted to him, your brow furrowed. "A surprise?"

Mingyu leaned back against the couch, arms stretched along the backrest, looking far too calm for someone who was clearly up to something. “Yeah,” he said, lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. "Figured now’s a good time."

You stared at him, heart starting to pick up its pace. "Kim Mingyu, if you’re about to prank me in front of all these people—"

He shook his head, grinning like an idiot now. "Nah, not a prank. I promise."

Then, casually — too casually — he reached into the inside pocket of his blazer. Your eyes tracked his hand, and for a second, you didn’t register what you were seeing. A small, velvet box.

Your breath hitched.

“No way,” you muttered, eyes widening as your hands shot up to cover your face.

The entire room gasped, someone behind the camera whispering, “Oh my God.”

Mingyu shifted forward, already on one knee, and suddenly, the world became a soft hum around you. It felt like the lights dimmed, the cameras faded away, and the only thing you could focus on was him.

He looked up at you, his grin now gone, replaced by something raw and steady. His fingers flipped the box open, revealing a simple but breathtaking ring.

“Y/n,” he started, voice low but clear. His eyes didn’t waver once from yours. “I’ve done a lot of big things in my life — joined a show, started a business, made decisions I wasn’t sure about. But you…” He exhaled, his smile small but full of certainty. "You’re the only decision I’ve never doubted. You make everything feel possible. You make me feel possible."

Tears gathered in your eyes, one slipping down your cheek before you could stop it. You didn’t care.

“I’m not gonna do the whole ‘I can’t live without you’ speech,” he went on, eyes crinkling as he fought back his own grin. "Because I can live without you. I just really, really, really don’t want to." His voice broke just a little, and he cleared his throat.

Your chest tightened, and your hands covered your face again.

“So, I’m done waiting,” he said, eyes locked on yours with all the love in the world. “Marry me, Y/n. Be my partner for real this time.”

Silence. You could hear the click of a camera.

But none of that mattered.

You nodded, pulling your hands away from your face as tears spilled freely. "Yes," you choked out, voice trembling as a laugh escaped with it. "Yes, absolutely yes."

He let out a breath of relief, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, like it had always been meant to be there.

When he stood, you barely had time to think before you threw your arms around him. His arms wrapped around you instantly, his hand cradling the back of your head as he laughed into your shoulder.

“You didn’t cry this much when we lost the show,” he teased, his voice rough but filled with affection.

“Shut up,” you mumbled into his neck, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.

The crew erupted into cheers, the sound of applause and whistles filling the room. Cameras flashed as photographers captured every second, but you didn’t care about the cameras. You pulled back just enough to look at him, still teary-eyed but grinning like a fool.

“Power couple, huh?” you said, sniffling as you wiped your cheeks.

Mingyu smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah," he whispered, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Power couple forever.”

Jiyeon sniffled loudly, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. "Okay, I did not come here to cry at work," she muttered, waving at the camera crew to cut the recording. "But you two are officially my favorite couple ever."

“Thank you,” you said, voice still wobbly but full of joy.

Mingyu kissed your temple, his arm never once letting you go.

No cash prize, no reality show win, but somehow, you’d still won everything.

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broidobe · 21 hours ago

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𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰

requested!

☾a steamy confession leads to an intimate shower encounter with izzy, transforming a long-time friendship into undeniable passion.☽

☾warnings: smut, hygiene habits, confined spaces☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

you’ve been friends with izzy for what feels like an eternity, and over the years, you’ve developed a deep affection for him. it’s not just a friendly feeling, though—there’s an undeniable spark between you two that neither of you has ever acknowledged. you’ve caught him looking at you with a gaze that lingers a little too long, and you’re pretty sure he’s felt the same flutter in his chest when your hands touch.

one thing that’s always been a source of amusement among your friend group is izzy’s notorious aversion to showering. he’ll often go days without washing up, much to everyone’s dismay. but you’ve noticed it more than anyone else, and it’s not just because of the smell. you’ve seen the way his hair gets all greasy and matted, the way his skin takes on a warm, golden glow when he’s dirty. it’s... distracting.

as you’re hanging out at his place one day, lounging on the couch, you bring it up. “izzy, dude, when was the last time you showered?” you try to sound casual, but your voice comes out a little husky.

he looks at you with a lazy grin and shrugs. “i don’t know... a few days ago?”

you raise an eyebrow. “a few days ago? izzy, that’s gross.” but as you say it, your mind starts wandering to all the dirty things you could do with him in the shower.

that’s when it hits you—why not propose exactly that? you know there’s something between you two, something unspoken but undeniable. and what better way to explore it than in a hot, steamy shower?

“izzy,” you say slowly, trying to gauge his reaction. “can i ask you something?”

“shoot,” he replies absently.

you take a deep breath before speaking your mind. “since we both know there’s... something between us... and since i know how much i love getting clean...” you pause for dramatic effect before finishing, “...want to fool around in the shower with me?”

at first, izzy looks taken aback—like he wasn’t expecting that kind of suggestion from anyone, let alone someone who knows about his smelly habits. then, a slow smile spreads across his face as understanding dawns, followed quickly by desire, which becomes increasingly hard to ignore.

the tension between you is now palpable as both of you silently contemplate whether you should go through with this or not. suddenly, without another word, he gets off the couch and walks toward the bathroom, motioning for you to follow.

your heart begins racing excitedly because now you realize things are about to get very interesting.

once the bathroom door closes behind you, both of you stand facing the sink, the mirror reflecting your shared anticipation. you turn the faucet handle, and water gushes loudly onto the tiles below.

stepping under the running stream feels incredibly refreshing, washing away the dirt and grime accumulated over the past few days. the next thing you feel is his strong arms wrapping tightly around your midsection, his warm breath dancing against your ear, sending delicious shivers coursing through your frame.

as the warm water cascades down your bodies, izzy’s hands begin to roam, exploring every curve and contour of your skin. his fingers dance across your shoulders, down your arms, and over your hips, sending sparks flying through you.

his lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he nibbles gently, making you moan with pleasure. the sound is lost in the roar of the water, but izzy’s response is immediate—he spins you around to face him, his eyes burning with desire.

the shower spray creates a misty veil around you, making everything feel intimate and private. izzy’s hands cup your face, tilting it up to meet his lips. the kiss is fierce and possessive, his tongue claiming yours as his own.

you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, the way his hands hold you in place. the water pounds against your skin, heightening every sensation. you’re not sure where one body ends and the other begins—all you know is that you’re consumed by this passion.

izzy’s hands slide down to cup your breasts, squeezing gently before moving on to explore other areas of your body. his fingers brush against your nipples, sending jolts of electricity through you. you arch into his touch, silently begging for more.

the shower wall provides a solid surface for support as izzy lifts one of your legs around his hip. he positions himself at your entrance, pausing for a moment as if seeking permission.

“please,” you whisper urgently against his ear.

with a groan of satisfaction, he pushes inside you. the initial thrust sends shockwaves through both of you—it’s been so long coming that this moment feels almost too much to bear.

as he begins moving within you—slow strokes building into faster ones—each movement causes waves of pleasure to crash over you. your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks you know will linger.

the sensation of izzy’s body moving inside yours is almost too much to handle. your legs tremble, your body screaming for release. izzy seems to sense it, wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you steady as he thrusts harder, faster.

just when you think it’s all too much, izzy’s hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit. he rubs it gently at first, then with increasing pressure as your body responds. the tension builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps, releasing in a burst of pleasure that leaves you gasping.

your body convulses around izzy as he cums inside you, the two of you locked together in a shared moment of ecstasy.

as the water begins to cool, signaling it’s time to get out, you look up at izzy with hazy, post-climax eyes. you see pure adoration reflecting back at you. despite the shower having washed away every speck of dirt, a new layer of intimacy seems to have formed between you—a connection far deeper than simple friendship ever could.

#broidobe #guns and roses #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy gnr #izzy stradlin fanfiction

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thegroundhogdidit · 1 year ago

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all i'm saying is that if hannibal had been set in santa barbara he would've gone to jail before the end of s1 and it would've had nothing to do with shawn actually. gus would've smelled that the meat he served wasn't normal and IMMEDIATELY guessed cannibalism. like no hesitation. hannibal would try to distract them by diagnosing shawn with daddy issues but santabarbaratown has already happened so it does nothing

#gus: his name rhymes with cannibal shawn!#will is just standing there slowly losing his mind #hannibal #psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #hannibal lecter #i'm not done with s1 yet either but i'm entirely convinced of this. he can trick will but nothing gets past gus and his super sniffer

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nochepsicodelica · 5 months ago

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Just thoughts of Toji being the most clingy, obsessed, bear boyfriend ever. You could be getting up from the couch to go get something to snack on from the kitchen and he'll hum and click his tongue like that's a no no, not even looking up at you when you stand, as he asks "where are you going?" in his deep voice. It makes you sit down again, but if he feels you're even an inch off from where you sat before, he'll fix that so quickly, bringing you right back to where you were, thigh to thigh with him.

Even when you're sleeping he likes to keep you attached to him. He either tangles his legs with yours or puts his leg over your hip when he's spooning you. If you're sleeping facing him, he keeps a hand on your back and digs his palm in so that you're pressed as close as you can comfortably be against him.

Oh, but mornings are a task and a half with him. It's hard enough to escape his arms because when you do manage to get out, he catches you by the hem of your shirt, not caring if it gets stretched out, and pulls you right back into his arms and doubles down on strapping you tightly in his hold by wrapping his forearm around your bare waist and keeping one of your legs locked between his. He grunts when you successfully escape, and roll out of bed. He's squinting, barely opening his sleep ridden eyes to look at you, yet he's dead set on luring you back into bed with him. He taps his hand on the space directly in front of him and mumbles a low "Come back" that brings you back, even if it made you roll your eyes. If you don't get back into bed, he follows you around all grumpy and groggy. Rests his chin in his palm all sleepy as he sits down and watches you make breakfast.

Speaking of food, he will not get out of the way when you're cooking. He's that attached to you. You're cutting vegetables and he has his arms wrapped around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head. If you cut yourself because you're trying to move too fast, he's dragging you over to the kitchen sink to rinse off the cut and wrapping your finger in a paper towel just for the time it takes him to run to the bathroom and get a bandaid. Will mumble into your ear, telling you to slow down when you start rushing your chopping again. Hums into your neck as you put all the prepped ingredients into a big pot. He ignores the stressed sighs you let out as you try to jump from space to space with him latched onto your back. King of "can I try it?" You tell him no and every five minutes he goes "can I try it now?" "How about now?" "Smells good. Now?"

Small NSFW section

During sex, he likes getting all the skin to skin he can get with you. Doggy style? He's leaning his body over your back and holding onto your tits as he rams into you. You're riding him? He has his hands on your hips, his forearms resting on your thighs. During missionary, he runs his hands all over your body, but since he wants to look at you as you lose your mind over how he fucks you, he refrains from leaning into you unless it's for the purpose of kissing or marking up your body. Loves prone bone because he gets to weigh you down and slowly make love to you while whispering sweet nothings into your ear in that honey-like voice.

Yeah... just Toji being a suffocating, clingy bear.

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screampied · 5 months ago

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❛ NEVER WANNA LOSE ME. ❜ t. fushiguro

☆ sum. for the hell of it, you let your roommate toji hit just once and he’s never been the same. what starts as a usual lazy smoke sesh turns into him wanting more than just to get high—he wants you.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, college au, toji & reader are in early twenties, vırgin toji, pússy drunk toji, mentions of pre-substance consumption, impact play, fıngering, squırting, praise, he finishes quick, dry humping, ōral (f! receiving), size kink, talking him through it, spıt.

he’s never had a girl like you in his life.

with toji—he doesn’t do women. well he does, but not in that literal sense. he puts up a front whenever around his boys. little do they know he doesn’t know the first thing about a woman. he has little to no game, he’s a fake. a loser. but all of that changes until he meets you. you’re his roommate and the only person he can really stand. to toji, you were someone he could ramble to, someone to get high with and make fun of cheesy romcoms together. . like now.

“you always insist we watch this shit,” he huffs, leaned back against the couch. he’s got his legs raised over the sofa as he bores his stoic eyes into the screen. squinting at the cheesy subtitles on display, he takes another puff. “dunno why y’er so scared of watchin’ alien. now that’s a movie.”

“toji that’s boring,” you murmur, snuggling up close to him. he never really minded, it was always like this. he’s got a broad arm thrown over the back edge of the sofa as you’re leaned up against him. the both of you were blitzed, feeling a wave of euphoria surge through the both of you. the closer you got to him, the more you smelled him. god, that cologne—he practically pours it all over his body and it’s always so strong. toji could feel your head rubbing up against his wrinkled tank top before he glances down at you. “. . . your taste in movies suck.”

as you trail off your words, it’s a deadly awkward pause between the two of you as he just stares deep into your eyes. you wonder why he’s so quiet all of a sudden, why he’s just got that blank expression. but toji cups your chin, using a bare thumb to swipe against the inner crevice of your mouth. “tch. messy girl.”

oh.

you blink thrice once his thumb swiftly moves against the corner of your lip. it’s a subtle moment that’s seems way more intimate than it should of.

the dorm room grows substantially quiet and the only sounds that could be heard were the main characters of the movies talking in the background.

you never leave your locked gaze on toji and he gently rubs a finger near your lip. “you had leftover ice cream on your lip,” he utters, and you see his eyes flicker toward your mouth. so pretty, he thinks to himself. the way they curve and twist as you switch facial expressions. he’s sitting up now, taking in your face and could almost feel you lean into his touch. almost. a lump gets caught in the throat before he clears his throat, glancing away. “i— uh, sorry. that was stupid.”

you look at toji and his body language is different from how it usually was. he’s got a downcast pout, slouching back against the leather made sofa. cute, he’s blushing. you notice the way both temples of his cheeks burn and heat up and you raise a brow, scooting up close toward him. “it wasn’t stupid,” you utter, grabbing the remote and turning it on mute. with his burly arms crossed, he slowly stares back at you with a perplexed look. “toji. do you wanna kiss me?”

“what?” he blurts out a bit louder than he intended. could you read his mind?

he felt himself get hotter and not just his cheeks.

toji looks into your eyes, biting his tongue once he realizes you probably caught him staring at your glossy plump lips. he did want to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you so bad—he just didn’t know how to initiate, he didn’t want to just flat out kiss you or anything. darkened brows of his tweak into a relaxed furrow before he sighs. “y- yeah,” he gruffly murmurs, the steady pulses of his heartbeat growing faster.

“you could have said so,” you tease, leaning up close and wrapping your arms around him. he’s glancing at you, both of you had half-lidded eyes, pupils dilating full of sparkles and lust. toji awkwardly sets his hands aside once you straddle yourself on his lap. the thin fabric of his basketball shorts tickle against the undersides of your thighs before you plop down.

it’s so quiet, you scrape a thumb behind his soft undercut before leaning up close.

toji’s mind was going crazy. he was about to kiss you. he was about to finally kiss you. but there was just one problem.

he didn’t know how.

just as your lips were on the brink of planting themselves onto his, he whispers against you.

“w- wait.”

you pause, glancing at him. “hm?”

“i— um,” he looks away, that same reddened tint painting over his face once more. it’s so cute, out of the few years on campus you’ve grown to know this guy, you don’t think you’ve seen him in such a state. an embarrassed state. jade green eyes flicker everywhere around the room but towards you and he sighs. “i’ve never . . kissed before.”

a smile marinates against your features as you stroke a thumb near the scar that runs down the right side of his lips. “oh,” you hum, and he almost glares at you but remembers you’re literally sitting on his lap. toji holds back a groan, the addicting friction of your body hovering over him makes him start to imagine lewd things. he couldn’t help it, and the taunting stare you gave him only made things worse. “that’s okay, just follow my lead,” and the two of you lock eyes again. toji gives you a subtle nod before feeling you drag his hands toward your hips. “just hold my hips ‘n close your eyes, it’s okay.”

he doesn’t know if it’s because of the fact that he’s stoned out of his mind but you’re just so pretty.

you were feeling the mild after effects too, your eyelids felt heavy the further you leaned into him. toji’s big open palms cling onto your waist as you finally close the distance, pressing your lips onto his.

from first contact, he tastes sweet.

his lashes flutter close as he lets you control, gently moving your tongue against his. it was cute how awkward he was, toji didn’t know what to do. you heard him groan the moment you playfully suck against his tongue. every few seconds, he’d hear the sounds wet smacking coming from each mouth—how a bit of saliva would start to dribble down the side of his lips.

fuck, he tilts his head back, parting his uneven lips a bit further for you.

toji tastes minty, his hands find themselves roaming lower down your body as you teasingly grind more against him. he grunts, feeling you continuously meet against his bricked up friend.

he was hard—you knew that. it was poking at you underneath your shorts. a smile stretches on your lips as you deepen the hot steamy kiss, hearing the faint sounds of teeth clashing. he’s so hot, literally and physically. toji feels like he was sweating bullets when he really wasn’t.

he’s had countless dreams of this, of you.

the two of you would always get high together and chill, binging countless movies until the two of you knocked out. but now, it was different. you were making out with each other. it took you by surprise that he’s never kissed anyone—you sort of thought otherwise, especially with how he acts around other girls. of course, that’s all you really see. but behind closed doors, perhaps your roommate’s more different than you thought.

the passionate kiss accelerates further the moment you feel toji’s big hands creep near your ass. his fingers tug near the protected fabric of your shorts, desperate for them to come off. your repetitive swaying against his lap was damn near torture. he groans, finally pulling away from your lips to watch those glossy strings depart from each mouth.

“fuck,” he grunts hoarsely, his eyes darting back toward your sheeny lips. he’s already had a taste of you and he wanted more.

toji holds you firmly in place before leaning into the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss near your collarbone. “i- i want more,” he grouses, the tint in his shorts only growing larger. you felt it, all of it. with the way your hips playfully rubbed against the loose clothing — you were only fueling the fire. toji’s voice got a bit lower with its pitch and it was attractive with how needy was.

like he was desperately craving for this moment to happen.

he really was though.

you could see the look in his eyes - he’s hungry.

call it a little crush or whatever but he’s had his eyes on you for a while. toji was horrible whenever it came to feelings, terrible.

he didn’t think much of it, the two of you were just roommates who’d occasionally get blitzed together every blue moon. unless it was something else.

“it’s okay,” your breath hitch as you feel his soft lips assault near your neck.

he was gentle, coating invisible markings that stick against your skin like glue. your head slowly leans back as he starts to softly suck against your skin, keen edges of teeth tenderly tickling against your exposed flesh.

you were so sweet, it just wasn’t fair.

toji’s hands remain attached to your hips before he makes you lie back. you land backward with a little cute oof, glancing up at him as your back lightly hits against the cushioned furniture. “someone’s getting eager.”

“s- shut up,” he kisses his teeth, taking a good view at your body. so pretty, two words that he’s gonna forever keep repeating to describe you. toji couldn’t believe its taken him this long to get to this point.

truth be told, he was pretty shy. but now that you’re all sprawled and laid back, something ignited in him. he slowly spreads your legs with one hand, using a thumb to tug against the flimsy string of your shorts. you watch him intently, growing quiet — the room only fills up with noises of his soft feral pants. he peeps the little anklet that wraps around your ankle before he starts to pull off your shorts. “m- may i?”

“go ‘head.” you murmur, smiling at how he stops untying your shorts just to hear your permission.

your sweet words telling him to go forward, it’s all he needed to continue. callused fingertips pull down your shorts all the way until he’s met with your laced panties. god, he’s feeling a lump get caught in his throat. the way your panties stick against your thighs, how gorgeous the lace looked decorating against your skin, he couldn’t stop staring. .

toji inches his head down, going between your thighs. his hair - it was unkempt, he outgrew his hair within these past few weeks. it was cute, a few black strands of his reach near his shoulders.

he was really slow,

he’s pacing himself because he wants to savor this moment and your beauty. but to be honest, he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. toji brings a awkward kiss toward the center part of your panties, watching you shudder. “mhm,” a low gruff comes out of him before he looks up at you. “was that good?”

“y- yeah, toji,” you swallow thickly, a hand of your own finding its way into his tangled sable tresses. he looks at you, finding your combing fingers digging through his scalp somewhat relaxing. he’s ogling at you like he’s waiting for you to say something else and you giggle. “right, you probably haven’t eaten a girl out either.”

“shut up,” he grimaces, bathing in his own cringe.

it’s almost adorable. it was adorable. he leans into your touch, staring at your slick dribbling pussy. he’s so close, you could almost peep his mouth watering. “just . . tell me what else ‘ta do, please.”

your face softens at his desperation. toji’s bottom lip pokes out a bit and you inhale, ruffling his hair a bit.

“okay, just start slow. ‘s no rush. start near my thighs ‘n give it a few kisses” and right at your words, he begins to give your thighs sweet individual kisses. he’s fast, you almost let off a moan before sitting up. “good, good, like that,” and his eyelashes close, making sure to give everywhere—even the secret secluded crevices of your thighs all types of attention. your skin was lukewarm, and each time it goes against his skin he only wants more. he hears your body fall back, the sofa screeching a wail from the sudden weight. “n- now um, kiss around here.”

toji pauses, watching as you spread yourself open for him with two fingers. with enticed driven eyes, he watches as you play with yourself to show him what to do next. your finger points near a soft pulsing area—your vulva, you wanted him to kiss right there. it’s shiny, drooling down with your own slick and he only imagined what it tasted like.

what you tasted like.

he doesn’t say anything—instead, he lets his mouth do the talking.

toji’s watched more than enough vulgar videos on pussy eating to know which exact methods to do.

but still, this was real life and nothing was exaggerated. your sweet whimpers and moans were very much real. he starts by kissing around and near your vulva - slow sloppy kisses that make your thighs twitch and your toes curl. he then begins to stimulate your clit with his tongue, swirling it around gently and you moan.

“fuuuck. . jus like that toji,” you breathe, digging your teeth into your lip.

he was already a quick learner, despite having no experience with practically anything.

with one trembling finger, you lift up his chin and he leans into your touch once more. “eyes up here baby,”

‘. . baby,’

his dick immediately twitches from that simple pet name. viridescent eyes of pure emerald stare into yours before you push him just a bit closer into your soddened cunt. “flatten out your tongue a bit. ‘s okay to spit on it a little.”

his ears perk up a bit at your words. “spit on it?”

“yeah,” you run a few more fingers in his hair, delving them into his soft scalp. “make it wet.”

“fine,” toji mumbles, and as his tongue’s moving upwards against your slobbering entrance. he gathers a decent wad of saliva before he spits right on your pussy. a slick ‘ptui’ sound slithers from his lips once he does so—you’re already wet but doing so, it gets you even wetter. a bit of cobwebby lustrous strands cling onto his lips as he watches his mess trickle down onto your folds. he groans, watching the cute pulse happen right between your legs.

so sloppy,

he adores the sloshing squelches your pussy makes at the simple gesture. toji’s never tasted anything so sweet before. “ugh, good. like that,” you moan. as you’re praising him, you then start to feel the quiver in your legs quicken. toji stretches his long tongue even further inside of you—pointing his tongue in a certain direction as his head leisurely sways itself side to side. as you’re telling him exactly how to eat you out, he starts to suck. you whine, feeling his pursing lips clamp around your twitching muscle. it’s so good,

his slurps were so nasty and he groans from your noises alone. as he’s eating you out—he can’t help but jerk his hips into the sofa, getting off to your pleasure. panting, you drag his head up by the hair so he could look at you again. “ ‘s okay, toji. y- you can use a finger or two also.”

“ ‘kay,” he grumps, and he feels your eyes boring into him. specially, you were mainly fixating on his hands. his veiny rough looking hands. you found yourself staring at toji’s hands a lot. they were so big, so wide, thick fat fingers. .

maybe you thought about having them wrapped around your neck, shoved down your throat, buried deep inside your-

your short fantasm and lewd thoughts get cut off the second he sinks a single digit inside—his middle finger. you whimper, slumping back against the sofa as his tongue still flicks against your cunt.

“fuuuck,” you chew on your words, your candied whines only grow more elongated as he seeps deeper inside of you. you take his finger in freely, it’s a perfect fit. with a brief ‘pop’ he’s inside and he feels you trying to clamp ‘n squeeze around his finger. toji’s kissing against your cunt again, shaping his crooked lips into ‘o’ before nibbling near your clit. “oh my goddd.” you gasp, feeling the pressure amongst you increase. his tongue was warm—but with the mixture of his finger, you started to feel your thigh haphazardly bounce. he was still lacking in some areas but you didn’t mind teaching him how to improve.

slowly, he brings another finger inside and now your cunt’s trying to squeeze down two of him. your brows curl up in rapture whilst his tongue happily roams all around you. he’s lapping up his saliva, slurping yours, and spitting right back on it all over again.

“so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your damp folds, causing vibrations just from his mouth. hot pants of breath aerate against your skin. you were getting close, your body started to get more and more unsteady. as your back arches, you yank on his hair a bit. “ow,” he looks up at you with a snarl, but he has a sheepish grin. with toji’s thick twin fingers plummeting in and out of you, he bites down near the edge of your pulled to the side panties. “am i doin’ good, princess?”

“y- yeah, ‘m gonna cum,” you whimper in a shaky tone, swiftly dragging his head back and forth.

toji’s plump glossed lips smear all around your cunt and you moan. he’s so messy and his chin being smothered with your slick. it’s running down, and he’s quite literally drowning in pussy.

your pussy.

the points of his ears twitch at your words though once he comes to the sheer realization—you were about to finish. as you’re getting closer, your grip against his hair tightens. “suck harder toji, ‘s okay. use your tongue, baby.”

with open ears and a open mouth, he listens, closing his eyes once more as his swollen lips latch around your entrance. you bite your lip, feeling his scar brush up against your cunt and it tickles.

so soaked, his fingers continue to insert in and out of you and you’re a nothing but a whiny mess.

your moans bounce through the thin walls of the spacey dorm before he kisses your clit. “make a mess on my mouth,” he almost pleads, a slight tremor in his voice. toji’s so into it that he doesn’t he notice he’s still humping the sofa. he’s humping the pillow propped directly underneath him to be exact. sloppy feral thrusts—his boner was almost painful and he needed more. he felt embarrassed, getting off to your pleasure. your sounds only made him grind harder though, and he groans once you’re literally tugging his head back and forth against you. “c’mon, give it pretty.”

his hoarse voice had you drenched even more, you feel the sharp pang of nirvana jolt through every artery and vessel stored inside your legs before it happens. you came, you’re teetering against his face as your hips buck into his mouth. he’s met with a sweet taste in his mouth.

a taste from you.

it lingers on his tongue as he merrily laps it up, drinking you until you’re all clean according to his mouth. your eyes were murky and doe eyed—you were holding in a breath you didn’t even know you were keeping in. as your chest deflates, you let off a loud ear shrilling climax and toji snickers. so cute, you were a mess. he was an ever bigger mess since his jaw was rightfully locked and sore, precious slick smoothly cascading down his smooth chin like it was a stream.

“fuck,” you huff out, wisping a few crumped fingers through his hair. your hold on his thin strands lessen as you lean back completely dumbfounded.

“did i do good?” toji utters in a raspy tone, lapping a few remnants of your honeyed juices near your outer folds. he slides his fingers out of you only to lick them clean, right before your very eyes.

panting, you nod. “yeah, y- yeah, you did good,” and you watch as shifts, closing the gap between you both. toji sits up from between your legs, and he starts the kiss this time.

your hooded eyes collapse for a moment, closing before you return the sloppy kiss. you moan, relishing at the obscene taste of yourself that now lives on his tongue. it’s sweet, your tongue curls its way around his before he sneaks a hand down between your thighs. you whimper in his mouth, feeling his broad hand give your cunt a big squeeze. you twitched right in his palm and he groans. your noises only made him want you ten times more.

with loud smacks of lips smacking against each other, you make your way on top of toji again. he’s looking at you—panting just like you were. his arched brows compress together as he grabs your hips in place. “you’re so hot,” he exhales, immediately regretting saying that out loud. he sees the slight bashful expression form on your face before you pull on his grey shorts. “y- y’er gonna ride me?”

“yeah,” you mutter, playing with the hem of his boxers. your thumb glissades against it, so soft. it sticks out above his shorts that were merely halfway on. “can i?”

toji nods. “uh huh,” and the fucking boner he had.

you felt it earlier but you knew he was suffering. each second you spent on his lap, the worse it became. it was up until you successfully removed his shorts and you started to grind your hips against his hardened bulge. “s- shit,” he curses, his head immediately throwing itself back. you’re playing with him—swaying up and down his procreated shaft. toji clenched his jaw, a hand of his squeezing the right cheek of your ass. “fuck, ‘s not fair. y’ said you were gonna ride me.”

“i am riding you, toji,” you hum, still a bit shaken up from your most recent orgasmic release. toji narrows his eyes at you and you toss your arms over his shoulders. “see?”

“tch. y’er bein’ unfair, princess.” he scowls at you.

toji’s got your hips in his hands as he’s lazily sat back. his hair was even more ruffled and messed up from your hands yanking and pulling on it. a few black strands run down his almond shaped eyes, shielding his vision a bit. as you proceed to move and jitter your hips around him, you then feel a sudden damp spot.

toji freezes - you freeze.

right near the poking center part of his boxers, it’s a spot where his boner lies that’s dampening up the piece of clothing rather quickly.

with furrowed brow, you glance down—pausing your jerking movements before eyeing toji. “toji. did you just . . . cum?”

suddenly, he grows mute, fuck.

he did—you figured he was sensitive but you didn’t think it was this much. his lips twitch and he’s trying to suppress a moan, it’s adorable. toji wasn’t so used to such contact, he thought he’d last a maybe one round or two, but he wasn’t even inside yet.

his jaw tightens and you spot his veins pulsing out through his skin. you stare at the now grey wet patch that sticks onto his half on boxers.

“oh, toji,” you softly smile, feeling him abruptly bury his face into your neck. he’s still groaning. you hold him, feeling him shiver a bit at your touch—you weren’t used to seeing this side to him, ever. “it’s okay,” you coo, and he’s practically whimpering into your neck. his gruff voice made you pulse and it only got louder. “it happens,” and you feel the stickiness start to bedaub against your fully exposed clit. with a timid expression, you tug in the hem of his boxers. “do you still wanna-”

“please,” he finally speaks again, his voice cracking.

toji’s eyes meets yours again and he’s just longing to feel you from the inside. despite his pussy drunken state, he was so desperate. your teasing only made him ten times more feral. cringing at his own self, his eye twitches. clearing his throat, he helps you pull down his boxers. “eh, i mean yeah. ride me.”

you block your tongue down your throat to refrain from giggling before his cock finally springs out.

it’s thick with a bunch of girth to support it. you can’t help but openly gawk a bit. you figured he’d be a packer but damn. you could literally equate his shaft to the size of a beer can. multiple veins ran down the sides and his base was even fatter than his actual size entirely—not to mention, it’s so pretty.

toji’s angry mushroom tip was glistening with sweltering fresh cum. he’s made quite the mess from that you could see already. he’s got a pink tip with an even more pink cockhead.

his heavy base, it’s swollen and had a tannish pigment color his entire dick. you lick your lips, preparing to align yourself and he grunts.

“s- slow baby,” he murmurs, gently burying his fingertips into both sides of your hips. you give him a nod, leaning up close to his face. you could hear the crack in his voice again before a husky groan rip out his throat. you’re so close to his face that you can’t help but pepper a few kisses near his crooked uneven lips. “fuck, fuck me.

as you’re lowering yourself down on his cock, you let off a moan - and so does he.

toji’s eyelids grow more heavy as he feels himself disappearing into your welcoming sloppy cunt. as toji’s barreling his fat dick inside, he squeezes your ass, feeling your walls swallow and suck him in entirely.

you were so soaked—so soaked, clamping down on him effortlessly and you were barely even moving. toji groans, finding his teeth tucking their ways into the left part of your neck as he holds you close.

“my god,” he hisses, continuing to bury his weighty cock into your slippery cunt.

you were so loud, especially right between your legs. every few seconds you’d be filling the room with wet squelches, pops and pops of pleasurable whines coming straight from your sweet cunt. it’s a feeling he’s never felt.

this felt a lot better than pathetically stroking himself off with the help of some off brand lotion as a substitute. he cringes at the thought because he was finally feeling the real thing. “fuck, ‘s fuckin’ warm, princess. you feel so good inside.”

“yeah?” you pant, and you’re almost all the way in before you grind your hips just a bit forward.

toji’s so thickly built that it takes your body a few seconds to acclimatize. you could feel the bulky tip of his cock extend straight through your spongey walls and it felt so good.

too good.

you could almost drool, that’s how good it felt—

he had staggering jaw-dropping inches that easily stretched you out like your cunt was simply elastic. it had you yearning for more. you lick near his chin where a few dripping droplets of slick run down before you kiss the curvature of his perfectly chiseled jaw. “ ‘m gonna start movin’ okay, toji?”

“okay.” he intakes a single breath, tracing the heart shaped parts of your ass with his fingers.

raspy pants bellow out from his vocal cords in such a rough raw way before he hears the squish.

your ass plops down on his lap and your hips start to create haste. toji grinds his teeth together the minute you start to rut further into him—his head slowly falling back. his eyes were barely open and yet he’s still finding the strength to look at you, look at your pretty face as you’re fucking him stupid.

his mouth slowly opens but no words come out. instead, sweet moans of your name leave his lips and it makes your ears twitch.

toji’s fully in and you feel every inch of him.

you’re bouncing on his dick until your ass was hitting near the hilt, the swollen base of his shaft felt so full and he’s chewing back sharp breaths that try to leave his packed full lungs. his high shortly leaves him with a slight pussy drunken grin and it’s so attractive—

the way his crimson glossed lips appeared all lopsided and droopy, twisting nto a sheepish smile. you spot two visible dimples on both sides of cheeks poking out from his lazy feral half-grin. you even found it hot how every so often he’d flick his tongue near the scar that slopes down the right side of his mouth.

“fuck me,” he repeats, using both hands to make you bounce harder.

skin against skin, both bodies press and squish against each other, and rocking in rhythm and lustful harmony. both of you felt so hot.

scorchingly hot, his heat radiates off of you and you lean into his warm.

it was so hot that you felt like you were gonna melt right on his lap—being turned into nothing but a puddled mess.

you whine, feeling his reddened tip start to thrash against your most sweetest spots.

thwack after abrupt thwack, it was tender at first but now it started to become more sloppy, more sloppy and rude. his mushroom tip swirls around your gripping, coating your insides while leaving blissful french kisses so good that your toes curl up again. “f- fuck, ‘s good, makin’ me feel—”

and his words get interrupted once you stop his sentence for another kiss. “mmph,” he jolts back, speedily returning the sultry embrace.

he could never get enough of your taste, that was for certain. your honed hips continue to buck forward into him as he’s fighting dominance for your tongue—you reel into him continuously as your thighs start to feel a twinge of convulsions.

toji’s balmy breath collides against yours as you slowly pry open your mouth, swapping strings of saliva and lapping up the few remnants of spit that dribble down past the cracks of his lips. “ngh, baby,” he whines between kisses, and his voice softens a bit. it’s not its usual cocky tone. it’s more affectionate,

more tender.

toji can’t keep his hands off of you. as he’s breathlessly speaking between kisses—a whisper of murmurs, he starts to spank your ass. smack after smack, you moan once his palm swats against you, encouraging your hips to go faster.

he quickly gets addicted to the reacting recoil. it was just the way your facial expressions twist from each smack and your little gasps at the brief stings that live near the centers of your rear.

“harder toji,” you whimper, digging your knees more into his thighs. with how fast you were bouncing on his cock, you were already in a trance. a trance you never wanted to get out of.

“tch,” he scoffs, giving your ass another spank. then one turns into two, then three.

he likes the way the fat of your ass collides against his palm. it’s enticing—he stares at you before biting near your chin. it’s more of a playful nibble. dark pools of eyes meet yours and you spot them through your peripherals. you moan at his touch before he feels you push him further back against the sofa. toji looks at you, falling back before you take the wheel. “fuck, gonna make me cum?”

and you don’t give him a reply. he prefers it that way. your hips end up speaking for you and as you rock against him quicker, the sofa cries out a plethora of squeals at the pressures of weight pounding onto it. “yeah you fuckin’ are,” he groans, pulling at the right cheek of your ass.

toji’s still very sensitive from before, but with the way you’re moving and how good your ass throws itself around him, he knew he was about to get ten times more sensitive. he just knew you were gonna milk him, ring him draw. fuck, the thought of being drained by your sweet cunt left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. not only that, but toji felt himself salivating the more he imagined himself finishing because of you.

he lowly grunts, munching down on his lip as the core muscles in his washboard abs tighten and flex underneath his tank top. your cunt constricts around his shaft every single time—ravaging your swollen needy walls became something he never wanted to stop doing.

you were so warm, his cock reached very specific areas that made you whimper out his name over and over on repeat as if it was some sort of exaggerated mantra.

“tojiiiii,” you whine, feelings of lust foiling at your brain. with the constant tingling sensations of his dick stretching through you—you gasp everytime, hearing the lewd shakiness linger underneath your voice. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum too.”

“c- cum with me, pretty girl,” he pants, clammy hands of his pawing at your waist.

your body and the way it moved against him in such maddened rhythm had him entirely dumbfounded. his brows arch as he leans back, adam’s apple still bobbing all in his throat. toji’s cock continues to jut his dick way into your drooling pussy before you let off a looooong three second mewl full of concluding elation.

it lasts a long time, the feeling you felt as you’re losing yourself on your roommate’s lap—yet this time, your eyes widen once your thighs clench together before collapsing.

you’re dexterously sucking him in well before your climax comes again—but as you’re trying to focus on your breathing, you feel yourself spraying all over his weighty cock. sappy sweet juices pour down his base as your mouth cutely forms into a circular shape of surprise.

“ffuckk,” you curse, your voice pitching as you pulse all around him. your chaste clit swerves against him as you’re finally coming undone. it’s so much, you left a pool of a mess right on his lap and he was just luxuriating in your sweet filth.

but before toji cums, his bottom lip quivers—beads of perspiration sliding down the sides of his face. “can i- can i finish inside?”

with a numb cock-drunken expression, you give him a nod. “y- yeah, go ahead,” and you look into his eyes, whispering into his ear. “c’mon toji, ‘s okay. give it to me. you can make a mess in me too.”

toji hoarsely groans at your words, holding onto you tight. “fuck, keep talkin’ to me,” he makes you bounce harder on his cock, his muscles clenching at such sensations. “think ‘m gonna cum jus from your words, princess.”

“good boy. f- fuck, toji cum in me,” you teasingly lick near his earlobe.

he grunts at your playfulness—his cock reaching its very limit. he’s so full, his jaw feels heavy before you kiss his cheek. “wan’ you to cum in me. don’t miss, baby. that’s it, h- hold my hips like that, mhm.”

toji holds back a whine as you’re preparing to milk him for all he’s got—he hiccups briefly before it spurts out all at once. it’s much more intense from before. as if on que, toji finished a few seconds later. but once he finishes again, this time it’s not as quick as last time.

he shoots into you raw and it’s literally as if his life changed right before his eyes.

toji’s feeling your hips momentarily swerve and stutter in swift arcs before he’s dumping such a sloppy goopy load into your pussy. slimy stringy ropes trickle into you all at once, shooting right into your empty womb. it’s so much of a load that some of it spills past your saturated folds and down his base.

“s- shit,” he looks down, glancing down at his bushy happy trail through his low hazed peripherals. you’re running a finger down the thin stretchy fabric of his tank top as you ride him, toying at his curly minuscule hairs with your fingertips.

toji came a lot. saying he came a lot was a understatement, he came a ton. such ropes oozed out of you and it was such a pretty sight. for sure—it a lot more than last time, it spills so much that it creates a creamy milky ring around his base. with the both of you now cumming in torrent, you can feel him shaking violently underneath you. the warmth of your walls was something he never knew he needed more.

toji’s mouth grows dry as he reclines back against the sofa. the movie was well over, black credits of dozens of random names blurred on the screen and all.

you both grow quiet. your head presses against his chest— feeling a few strands of chest hair tickle against your cheek. his heart was racing, and it was all because of you.

you didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to move, because then his cum would leak out of you. toji liked the feeling of having you plugged full, your thighs—specially near the crevices and insides were all sticky and wholly coated with his velvety hot spurts of cum.

“f- fuck,” you murmur in an almost whisper, feeling one of his hands slide back toward your ass. toji’s matching your irregular heaving pants before he feels you trying to get up. “toji, let’s—”

“stay,” he cuts you off, and he’s got the most neediest expression. his voice was whiny, he swallows—more breathy pants leaving from him before he buries his face in your chest. verdant droopy eyes give you a long stare before he hugs you, strong broad arms wrapping around you. “i- i want more,” he shivers in your embrace.

you sit up and you thought he was leaning in for a kiss—but instead, he licks your bottom lip. “i don’t wanna jus get high with you anymore, i just want you. i fuckin’ need you, girl,” and you can almost see hearts in his eyes. yeah, he was whipped.

toji cups your face, his voice shaky and he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your palm.

“please. one more round, baby. i love-” and he cuts himself off, his eyes widening before he backtracks, his pout growing. “i need you.”

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stormtide-leviathan · 1 year ago

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i love making ttrpg characters that are so fucked up

#najeela papadapoulos isn't particularly fucked up cause she was my first but has slowly been growing more so #i just need to embrace her mad scientist side more without losing her freedom fighter side #making my dm name important scientific inventions she's involved in making in his long-term world after 'papadapoulos' is fucked up at leas #reave's fucked up so much. she crawls around on the ceiling and snatches people off the ground #with tentacles that unfurl from her stiched up mouth. and then pulverizes them with her greatsword. there's a reason she's called a demon #moirara soranath had a fucked up past but otherwise was pretty normal #the psychic tentacle warlock who was gonna take over her body if i needed a backup character would balance it out if i'd played her tho #isha mondal's fucked up nice and good. she has all kinds of weird-ass freaky contracts and a whole whole lot of mental issues #on account of murdering her sister and deeply repressing it so she breaks down at any reminder #red's not that fucked up tbh. by human standards sure absolutely but not by werewolf standards. she's just a silly goofy guy #which is funny since her full name is red-with-blood but that's just how werewolves are in that game #she did decapitate an enemy werewolf in a single axe-swing and take its head as a trophy. werewolves are BEEFY so credit where credit is du #donna holliday's also fucked up by human standards but by vampire standards she's downright nice. she only eats people who are really shitt #she was surrounded by humans admittedly but more of the mosnter-hunter type than normal humans so still a higher fuckedupedness bar #morgan who i just played today is very fucked up. he hears otherworldly whispers in his mind teaching him arcane secrets #and egging him on to combust people with his mind. which really stands out in a world that until YESTERDAY was just normal earth #so anything supernatural at all is already a baseline level of fucked up #ttrpg tag #original post

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euthymiya · 2 months ago

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part two

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

#—rivistyping!#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo imagine #gojo oneshot

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 month ago

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three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang.

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to.

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you.

“This her?” one of them grumbled.

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating.

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked.

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.”

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding.

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own.

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?”

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table.

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves.

“What happened?” you asked carefully.

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.”

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on.

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.”

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two.

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal.

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?”

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up.

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession.

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table.

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?”

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.”

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness.

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…”

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone.

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…”

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.”

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.”

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile.

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.”

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual.

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.”

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly.

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more.

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways.

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–”

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run.

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital.

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.”

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly.

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel.

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…”

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night…

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger.

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper.

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?”

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement.

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.”

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…”

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom.

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit.

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed.

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen.

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now.

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral.

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.”

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped.

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly.

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?”

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss.

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional.

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches.

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees.

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag.

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?”

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded.

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables.

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him.

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing.

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space.

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition.

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?”

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat.

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?”

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression.

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug.

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him.

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?”

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language.

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.”

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?”

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.”

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared.

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.”

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long.

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body.

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself.

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat.

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms.

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows.

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of.

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water.

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow.

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest.

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit.

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.”

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest.

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.”

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat.

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate.

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.”

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such.

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks.

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack.

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone.

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.”

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together.

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently.

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it.

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin.

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better.

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next.

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon.

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs.

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps.

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors.

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly.

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door.

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination.

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit.

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both.

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently.

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.”

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon.

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall.

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable.

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear.

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head.

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused.

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind.

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear.

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head.

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…”

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music.

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice.

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder.

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…”

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips.

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder.

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard.

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame.

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle.

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape.

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark.

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered.

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done.

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire.

“And?” Bucky fished.

“For hurting you…”

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm.

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest.

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky.

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him.

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply.

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed.

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better.

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress.

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge.

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room.

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame.

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you.

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses.

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed.

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?”

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie.

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.”

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core.

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul.

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…”

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you.

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips.

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…”

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body.

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.”

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge.

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission.

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity.

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below.

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you.

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?”

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base.

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch.

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you.

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy.

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you.

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit.

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!”

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum.

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth.

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?”

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity.

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him.

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile.

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you.

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him.

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…”

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom.

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incognit0slut · 9 months ago

Text

Stress Relief

You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (f), reader in handcuffs so light bondage?, choking, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare and domestic bliss because he’s still our beloved spencer

Words: 5k for 5k milestone celebration! TYSM ILY💘💘

A/n: I combined two requests asking for him to get all angry/frustrated because an unsub had a particular thing for winding him up (from anon 1) so he needs some kind of smutty release (from anon 2). You know who you are.

You could tell something was off.

A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as the front door creaked open, and instead of the usual lively greeting from your husband, you were met with silence. It was as though he was physically there and yet you could sense his absence in the air.

"Spence?" You called out, stepping out of the kitchen. When there was no response, you tried again. "Baby, are you okay?"

Your feet guided you down the hallway where you found him standing by the door with his back facing you. Even from behind, you could sense the foul mood he was in. His shoulders seemed more tense than usual, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an edge to his movements as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Babe?"

His response was brief, his gaze flickering towards you before quickly darting away, almost as if he were intentionally avoiding your eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey?" you echoed. "That's all I'm getting?"

When his eyes met yours again, you could practically feel the tension radiating from him. It was clear that he was angry, his usual calm demeanor seemed to be replaced by a subtle but palpable edge. There was a tightness in his jaw, a clenched fist by his side, and his usually warm gaze now held a hint of sharpness.

Only one thought crossed your mind whenever he came home like this.

"Bad day at work?"

He slowly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want a hug?"

He hesitated momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly as if debating whether to accept your offer. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your hand instinctively found its way to his hair, fingers gently running through the soft strands.

"Oh, honey, you're so tense," you noted as your other hand trailed along his shoulder. "Is there anything I can help with? A massage? A nice warm bath maybe?"

You felt him shake his head against you, but you persisted, wanting to offer him comfort in any way you could. When your hand smoothed down his back, his hold on you tightened. When your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, you felt his warm breath caress your skin.

Then it happened—soft lips brushed against the spot under your ear, tentative at first, before growing more urgent. It wasn't the tender, affectionate kisses you were used to, but a different kind of intimacy that felt almost desperate. His lips nibbled and sucked gently at your skin and it became clear to you what he wanted.

"You want another kind of release, baby? Is that what you want?"

His lips momentarily paused against your neck, his arms loosening their grip around you before he rested his hands on your hips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because—” he stopped, his grip on your body tightening. “Because I don't feel like myself right now."

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away just enough to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

Spencer held your gaze. How could he explain to you that he was on the verge of acting out his frustration? That he was so close to losing control?

He knew how difficult he could be when anger took hold of him. In his younger days, he wouldn't hesitate to fire off sassy remarks and snarky comments, letting his emotions dictate his behavior. However, as he matured, he learned better to hide those emotions behind a composed facade.

But tonight felt different. Despite his best attempts to maintain his control, he could feel his anger slipping away, and it was unfair to burden you with it. Especially when you were offering yourself to him, so sweet and so pretty, when he knew love wasn't exactly what he could offer you right now.

So he decided to release you, his grip loosening as he stepped back.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath before turning towards your shared bedroom. Your brow furrowed as he walked away, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape, bewildered by his sudden withdrawal.

"Spencer Reid," you called after him, your voice laced with a hint of irritation as you followed him. "I wasn't done talking to you."

He paused, his hand halfway to his tie before he loosened it with a sharp tug. You leaned against the bedroom doorway, crossing your arms as you continued to study him. His lack of response only fueled your growing annoyance, but you knew better than to escalate the situation into a fight.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke up, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Honey, I can't help you if you're acting this way."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"The way you're wrestling with your tie gives it away," you replied, your words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He shot you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by your remark. "I don't need your help."

Your frown deepened. "Seriously? You're just going to shut me out like this?"

"I'm not shutting you out," he countered, moving around the room. "I just need some space."

"Well you're doing a pretty damn good job of it," you shot back, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself off the doorway. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his actions focused on undoing the button on his wrist now. You scoffed at his lack of response again.

"Oh, so now you're giving me the silent treatment?" When it seemed evident he was trying to ignore you, you pressed on. "Fine, keep your silence, let me do the talking."

His eyes flickered momentarily at you before he turned around, undoing the button of his shirt. You watched him quietly as he continued to avoid your gaze.

"Spencer," you began, your voice softer now. "I know your job can be hard, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting me out won't make it any easier."

“I've already told you, I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what are you doing?" you pressed. "I tried offering you help when you didn't want to talk about it. And the one thing I can help you with, the one thing I'm sure will help you relax, you refused."

You let out a frustrated sigh, hating how much your voice wavered now.

"Spence... you—you didn't even want to have sex with me."

His shoulders stiffened at your words, finally turning to face you. "You think I don't want to have sex with you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I don't know what to think anymore," you admitted. "You're giving me the cold shoulder, it’s hard not to take it personally."

The room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence. Then, you watched as he began to walk towards you. One step. Two steps. Until his presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that suddenly made you feel small and vulnerable.

"I'm refusing to have sex with you right now not because I don't want to," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'm refusing because I'm trying to protect you."

You frowned, confusion furrowing your brow. "Protect me from what?"

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “From myself."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach, goosebumps forming on your skin as you struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I… I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk it. I'm afraid that if we... if we cross that line, I might hurt you."

"Spencer," you whispered in disbelief, as if his words were the most absurd thing you'd ever heard. "You would never hurt me."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be so sure if you knew half of the thought in my head right now."

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his words. Then your gaze involuntarily flickered down his body, tracing the lines of his open shirt and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze moved lower, taking in the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the trail of soft hair leading downwards.

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me then," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze again. "Tell me how you'd hurt me."

He studied you, assessing, calculating. "You won't like it," he warned.

"And what if I do?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I know what I want."

He regarded you for a long moment, weighing your words carefully. Finally, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "You really want to know what I'd like to do to you?"

You held his gaze. "Yes," you replied. "Tell me."

His lips curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and traced a finger along the curve of your jaw. "I want to use you," he murmured. "I want to feel you, to taste you. I want to make you scream."

You could feel the heat traveling through your body, a heady mixture of desire and anticipation flooding your senses. You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to control you," he continued, his gaze darkening. "I want to tie you up leave you bruises, mark your skin. I want you helpless, begging for mercy."

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours.

"I want to see how far you'll go for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in his words, and you couldn't deny the heat spreading between your legs. "And what if I want that too?"

A tense silence settled between you. Then slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he wrapped his fingers around your throat, simply holding you there. "You don't mean that."

"Try me," you dared, holding his gaze. "Put your hand between my thighs and see just how much I mean it."

His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly while his other hand hovered at the waistband of your cotton pants. You felt a jolt of anticipation as he slipped his hand inside, your breath hitching as the pad of his calloused fingers dipped inside your panties.

A soft hum of approval escaped his lips when the slickness of your arousal coated his skin.

"Would you look at that? Barely even touched you and you're already this wet?" A low gasp fell between your lips as he found your clit. "You really want this, don't you?"

You could only manage a whimper in response, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Tell me," he insisted, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "No," you finally managed to gasp.

With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingertips lower, teasingly circling your entrance. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out.

“You dirty girl,” he muttered, and you feel yourself getting wetter as his finger continued to touch you teasingly. Then slowly, the grip on your throat loosened before his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I need you to be sure," he whispered, "Because once we cross that line, there's no going back."

Your eyelids dropped lower as you chewed on your bottom lip, feeling the weight of his desire hanging in the air. It was a heady mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but one thing was clear—you wanted him.

You wanted him to use your body.

“Use me however you like,” you confessed. "I-I’m all yours.”

His lips were on yours in an instant. There was no mercy in his kiss, only raw desire and urgency. He kissed you as if he needed to breathe in your air, his lips moving desperately against yours, his tongue seeking entrance to taste you.

His hand then left your pants to cradle your face, holding you gently yet firmly as he explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath.

He looked down at you, his gaze intense, and saw the dazed expression in your eyes. Your touch, taste, and scent clouded his vision as you trembled in his arms, the soft sounds of your labored breath sang in his ears.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Now listen to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to leave you for a while, and when I come back, I expect to see you lying on the bed naked with your legs spread apart."

You swallowed hard, eyes slightly going wide. You felt his hand gripping your jaw.

"Do I make myself clear?"

You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes."

His grip tightened momentarily before he released you, his gaze piercing as he held your eyes for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor until you stood bare before the bed. The cool air prickled against your skin as you slowly climbed onto the bed.

You brought your feet onto the bed before spreading your knees apart. It felt weird, you had never felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your thighs. And then you heard him, his footsteps gradually coming closer and your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

His tall frame filled the doorway as he took in the sight before him, his eyes lingering between your legs. He watched your chest rise and fall, watched the way your legs fell apart even more as if you were offering yourself to him. Without a word, he approached the bed and stripped off his shirt.

Before you could catch your breath, he stood over the bed beside you. "Put your arms above your head."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze, but then slowly, almost instinctively, you complied, raising your arms above your head as instructed. You watched as he reached behind his back, and your heart raced as you glimpsed the glint of metal in his hand.

He didn't say a word as he reached for your wrists, securing them above your head with the cold metal of the handcuff, restraining you to the bed. The click of the cuffs echoed in the room before he stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam as if he was admiring his handiwork.

Your pulse quickened as you lay there, exposed and at his mercy and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. He moved closer, his fingers trailing lightly along your skin, and you shivered, both from the chill of the metal and the warmth of his touch.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmured. "So helpless, yet so willing."

Your eyes followed his movement as his fingers moved to unbutton his pants. Then he was completely naked, and even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his cock never failed to make your cunt clench in anticipation. He was thick and hard, with veins pulsing along its length and droplets of wetness glistening at the tip.

The bed sank under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs. You gasped when he leaned forward, the underside of his cock teasingly brushing against your wet folds as his lips met your collarbone. You bit down on your bottom lip as he kissed lower, stopping at your left breast, where he suckled on the supple skin just above your nipple.

His mouth latched onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. But he was a simple man. His lips worked precisely and diligently, and you watched as he left marks on your breasts, his teeth gently sinking into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings.

The kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. Spencer felt a rush of satisfaction like no other, his touches growing more urgent with each sound that escaped your lips. His tongue glided over your plump breasts, teasing and tantalizing, until finally, his mouth enveloped your nipple.

You squealed, squirming underneath him, and he smiled against your skin, his lips forming a knowing smirk as he continued to suck while his thumb flicked the nipple he wasn't focusing on. There was no doubt you would be left with bruises tomorrow morning.

Your eyes drifted downward just as he looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and you couldn't help but whine when the tip of his tongue circled your nipple teasingly. You reached out, craving the sensation of your fingers in his hair, only to feel the metal of the handcuffs digging into your skin.

"It's torture, isn't it? Not being able to do anything," he taunted with a laugh, shifting his attention to your other nipple. "But I guess that's the fun part.”

You whimpered as he softly bit your sensitive bud, and your back arched off the bed in response. He leaned back, admiring the marks he'd left on your skin.

"God, look at you," he murmured as his gaze lingered on your flushed skin, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "I could do this all night."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, his lips tracing a path from your chest down to your stomach. You squirmed, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly as his warm breath ghosted lower. His hair tickled your legs, and he took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh.

You gasped as he sucked your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the flesh as if he was intent on marking every inch of your body. His lips continued to trail along your thighs but never quite reaching the place you craved him the most.

For someone with pent-up emotions, his movements were agonizingly slow. It was frustrating, the way he toyed with you, drawing out the anticipation until you couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please," you whimpered, the chains rattling softly against the headboard as you continued to squirm beneath him.

He paused, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he looked up at you. "Please what?"

"Pl-Please touch me."

He kissed over your mound as he hooked an arm under your leg. His other hand reached for the heat radiating between your thighs before two of his fingers brushed along your outer lips, dragging your arousal along your skin. "Like this?"

You groaned as he kept on teasing you, stroking you with featherlight touches. “More," you pleaded desperately, almost pathetically. "Please."

His fingers stretched your folds, his gaze fixed on the glistening wetness, on the way your cunt clenched around nothing. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

"Spence..." you breathed out, feeling his breath achingly close to your heat.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath hot against your flesh. The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a writhing, whimpering mess. Your head began spinning, nerves and pleasure swooping into one big fuzzy mess in your mind as his tongue teased up and down your slit.

"Oh my god," you whined the moment his mouth circled your clit before sucking on it, sending waves of pleasure along your body. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt his finger at your entrance, and without warning, he pushed in his digit, sending your head tilting back with a desperate gasp falling from your lips.

His groan reverberated against your skin as your walls clenched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it inside of you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. With each movement, he pressed his face even further into you, relishing the sensation of your wetness coating his jaw.

Your eyes drifted downwards at the same time he looked up, locking gazes with him, and you let out the most filthy cry of pleasure. He held your gaze as his tongue quickened its pace, sucking your clit even harder as he added another finger inside you.

Your mouth gaped open as you felt the delicious stretch, and you couldn't help but buck your hips towards his face. Spencer always had a fixation on pleasuring you, but not like this—it was never like this. He seemed desperate, almost possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste.

He continued his relentless assault, his fingers pumping inside you with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked tirelessly on your swollen clit. The squelching sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping walla was so lewd that it made his cock stir against the bed.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the heat spreading like wildfire through your veins. Before you knew it, your climax hit you hard, without warning, without mercy, and you were gasping his name over and over.

You shivered and trembled beneath him, tossing your head back even farther, squeezing your walls around his fingers and your legs around his head. But he didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of you, only to push your thighs apart even when your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Stop moving," he ordered as he leaned in, tasting you all over again. He didn't care that you were a complete mess, that you were still reeling in from your climax, that you were trying to move back away from him. All he cared about was giving you the best pleasure imaginable, and he was intent on seeing it through.

"Spence—” you gasped when his nose brushed your clit. “I-I can't—"

He gently held your fragile body in place to prevent you from running away from his mouth. "Hold still and give me another one."

How could you not relent when he treated you like this, so considerate yet so rough? You groaned, your eyes meeting the ceiling as you felt his mouth continue its relentless assault on your cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, yet despite your protests, you couldn't deny the building pressure.

Your muscles tensed. Your breathing hitched. You gasped for air. And just as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you once more, you surrendered, letting out a pathetic cry as your body convulsed with the force of your climax.

His tongue lingered over your sensitive skin, savoring the taste of your release, before he finally withdrew, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then lifted his head, your juices glistening on his lips as he watched your heaving chest.

Spencer had never been so thankful for his eidetic memory. He took in the sight of your hands, bound above your head, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, the tousled strands of hair framing your face. His gaze lingered on the way your legs willingly parted for him, your skin flushed and pussy swollen, all because of him.

It was a sight he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

You bit your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on you, feeling your body flush under his scrutiny. Then, as if something within him shifted, he reached for you, urging your body to turn until you were facing sideways, the chains rattling softly as you moved.

He settled behind you, and your heart quickened as you felt him grab your leg, lifting it in the air. With one hand gripping your thigh firmly, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your slick folds.

You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned in closer. With a deep, guttural moan, he eased himself into you, every inch of him sliding effortlessly into your wetness. You couldn't help but arch your back in response to the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured, the curse slipping past his lips in a breathy whisper. It sounded foreign coming from him and yet it only encouraged you more. You pushed your hips back into him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Needed this so much," he confessed, his breath coming out in ragged pants against the nape of your neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this for so long."

Your head fell back onto his chest, completely enveloped in him—the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic movement of his cock thrusting inside you.

"Thought it was wrong of me to take control of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "But you're enjoying this as much, aren't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you and you felt him picking up his pace. The room was filled with lewd noises of your wetness along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You like being helpless like this? You like it when I fuck you while being cuffed to the bed?"

Your breath hitched at his words. His hand left your thigh, but only momentarily. The crack of sound pierced the air, followed by a surge of sensation coursing up your leg. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—he spanked you.

And you liked it.

"Answer. Me," he demanded, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes," you managed to gasp out. "I-I love being helpless."

He let out a sound of pleasure as he released your thigh, only to tease your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your head thrown back as he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt the intensity building, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach as he continued to pump into you, his fingers moving fast against your clit.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn't even think properly. The squelch of his cock driving into you roughly rang in your ears and with a sharp inhale, you felt the tension within you reach its peak. Your muscles tensed, your breath caught in your throat, and then, with an explosive release, you cried out his name.

He groaned as he felt you pulsating around him, your walls gripping him tightly. He continued to move within you, riding out your orgasm as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I need to see you," he breathed as he pulled out of you. Then he flipped you onto your back, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he settled between your thighs once more. The change in position brought you closer, the heat of your bodies mingling as you met his gaze.

Without a word, he pushed himself back into you, the slick heat of your cunt enveloping him. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling your body growing sticky, every inch of you glistening with sweat, but his gaze remained fixated on you, unwavering and intense.

"So pretty," he murmured, his hand finding your face and cupping your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. "My beautiful wife."

You whimpered as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertip. He watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut while he began pumping into you.

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you took his cock eagerly, your breasts bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue slipping out of your mouth. A whine followed through as his hand moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place as his hips collided against your own.

He gave a slight pressure around your throat, and your head began to loll against the mattress, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your body, spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears, and up to your eyes, tears pooling right at the corner. The feeling even reached your stomach, tightening and coiling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

Was this your fourth orgasm? Your fifth? You couldn't keep track; all you knew was the overwhelming sensation prickling your skin. The bed below you felt as if it was on fire. The metal digging around your wrist burned with absolute pleasure.

His thrusts grew more intense, each movement raw and unrestrained, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into you. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, his grip on your neck firm but not painful, but it was enough to make you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

You were instantly gone.

A filthy cry fell between your lips as another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. At some point you were gasping for air, feeling your body going limp but he didn’t stop. His hips had a mind of their own. You could feel them beginning to move like they were possessed, with no regard for your pleasure, and in a way, no regard for his.

“Oh god—fuck!” You cried, arching your back as much in this position.

He groaned and leaned in, his arms pressing against the bed on either side of you as he pushed your leg up to your shoulder. He tried to kiss you, but the force of his movements made it hard. Instead, his lips hovered just above yours, both of you breathing heavily and moaning into each other's mouths.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. It didn’t take long for another wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You convulsed beneath him, thighs quivering violently as you tried to angle your body away from him, the pleasure almost unbearable now.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you caught a glimpse of him throwing back his head with his eyes screwed shut. Then he finally groaned—his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you.

You watched the sweat bead down his forehead as you both worked silently to relax your bodies, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm. With a deep, contented sigh he finally slid himself out of you before going through his discarded pants on the floor.

After a moment, he returned to you and unlocked the handcuff from your wrist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the room. The chains fell onto the bed with a soft thud as he gently took hold of your hands.

“Are you okay?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

He pressed a tender kiss to both of your wrists, his lips lingering over your pulse for a moment. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked anxiously, his eyes raking over your body. "Was I too rough? Did I—""

"Spencer, relax," you whispered, you took his hand in yours. "I'm good. I promise."

"You sure?" he asked, his face still tight with concern.

"Yes, more than good. Just come cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, his eyes scanning over your body for a few seconds longer. After he seemed satisfied you really were okay, he lowered onto the bed beside you and you drew his head to your chest. Your fingers gently played with his hair, watching as he slowly relaxed into you, throwing one of his arms across your stomach.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... I think I needed that."

Your attention shifted to his face, happy to see his expression finally somewhat peaceful as he lay just above your breasts. His eyes were closed, the tension you'd noticed on his face when he'd arrived entirely gone now.

Gently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered, "Of course, baby. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

His lips curved into a small, contented smile as he nestled closer to you. "I love you."

A surge of warmth filled your chest at his words. "I love you too," you whispered back. "But are you okay? Do you want to talk about what happened at work?"

You felt him shift as he shook his head. "Maybe later. I just want to hold you right now."

You gently kissed the crown of his head before pulling him closer. Spencer sighed happily as he snuggled closer to you, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against your chest. He then reached over your breasts, his thumb trailing over the marks he had left on your skin.

"I didn't realize you enjoyed that so much."

You shrugged the shoulder beside his head. "It's hard not to. I mean, I think I've always liked it when you're in control, and that doesn't only apply to sex."

He leaned back to look at you. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. Remember the first time we started dating and someone broke into my apartment?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, a frown tugging at his brows as he recalled the memory. “That was one of the scariest moments in my life.”

"Right. You thought some serial killer was targeting me when it was just a random robbery. But the way you handled the situation..." you continued, your voice softening. "When you took charge and made sure I was safe, I realized how much I trusted you. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, my boyfriend's pretty cool.'"

His frown melted away, replaced by a warm smile at your words. "You thought I was cool?"

You chuckled, nodding as you met his gaze. "You're cool, smart, and hot at the same time," you teased. "What I'm trying to say is, I like it when you're in control because I like to depend on you. You make me feel safe and cared for."

His expression softened even further, a tender warmth filling his eyes. "I like it when you depend on me too," he confessed softly. With a gentle tug, he sat up, bringing you along. "Come on then, let me care for you now."

You looked up at him. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?"

"I think we both need that nice warm bath."

You smiled, already feeling the tension in your muscles ease at the thought of a soothing bath with him. "Will you wash my hair too?"

He pushed a strand of hair off your face, his heart swelling with affection at the look in your eyes. How could he resist when you looked at him like he hung up the moon for you?

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

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