#At the end of the day it's my decision ofc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mickyschumacher · 8 months

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NGL I LOVE UR WORK... ive been hopping thru ur m.list since the last hour.... its currently 1 am and i have an essay to finish before 8 am(im sure my prof will give me more time ik dey love me) anywasy i was wondering if u could do an enemies to lovers with Lewis((like really hated eachother)the reader could be a driver its oky don mind what she does) and then they were arguing abt sumting lewis says something thats completely out of the line and she starts crying in front him then he just kinda leaves her be, a few days later he would go on then apologize to her abt wat he said and then more fluff. (just ignore this if ur not into it or not takin a request at the moment. but im actually just hapi i kind of got the courage to ask u for a request also ur stories are soooo good i admire and envy u at the same time.)

𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: as lewis's former teammate, there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. but a bad move from lewis puts him completely out of line.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: enemies to lovers trope!, poor humour, some fluff, in depth moment of an alternated 2021 wdc (apologies in advance), therefore ANGST, bad race jargon, horner and masi discussed :(, mention of intermittent explosive disorder, misogyny, allusion to racism (not from the reader ofc!), shitting on the fia for a bit, lewis kinda being a dick for probably an unfair reason lol, a proclamation of feelings from sir lewis himself

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lewis hamilton x red bull!driver!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: you're too sweet to me! 🤧 i couldn't tell if you wanted this to be romantic but i went that way in the end! hope this was good! ♡︎ very very loosely based of swift's 'right where you left me'. but if you argued it wasn't, i would be inclined to agree. proof-read...ish?

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

No one ever truly understood your move to Red Bull. It was in 2019, far from when Max was practically living on pole, so Red Bull wasn't exactly a threat to Mercedes, your previous team. Toto had even put a three-year extension on the table several months before your contract came close to expiring.

Yet you had chosen to sign with the devil.

When the commentators, journalists, and fans took a closer look at your decision, the only thing they could all collectively agree on was that you had moved to Red Bull because of Lewis Hamilton. Because you both couldn't keep your differences aside and Lewis had finally struck your last nerve.

While you weren't quite sure about the last part, the first was true. You had Lewis had never ever exactly met eye-to-eye. Every F1 driver had a specific style of driving. You liked to call Lewis' the 'calm before the storm'. He raced with a composure and maturity that most drivers did not hold. He was particularly calculative and the everyone loved him.

You, on the other hand, had given yourself a new nickname along side 'Flash 13' because you did everything in a flash: you overtook ruthlessly and calculated, you pushed the car till it was undrivable, and you were decisive to the very nanosecond. But you had also garnered yourself the name 'IED', after the behavioural disorder.

In part this nickname was due to the misogyny you faced as the only current female driver in F1 but also due to the sheer anger that bursted out of you whenever you encountered Lewis.

The amount of warnings Toto had given the both of you was simply endless. He had even resorted to putting you two with the team therapist.

The source of your hatred for each other was as clear as day. You hated Lewis' arrogance because somehow it was even worse than Rosberg, Alonso, Räikkönen, and Verstappen. And Lewis hated you for your 'perspective'. You didn't know what he initially meant by that but you regretted asking him. He said you needed to be stronger to be in F1 and that you were far too soft-hearted. Right after you had gotten your first ever pole.

It was ridiculous, to say the least.

No F1 driver was soft-hearted. You were all, simply put, a bunch of dicks. Not literally, of course. Naturally, following that comment, Lewis had pissed you off. He hadn't even had a second to know you before even making that judgement. It was ironic as well, considering your nickname that labelled your anger.

After watching Lewis win several championship titles with you following multiple places behind and seeing you only get angrier with each other, you had decided to call it quits for Mercedes. If people were going to take your annoyance and frustrations with amusement, you were going to head to the angriest team of all and leave your former team fuming.

Two years later, in 2021, you had finally gotten the perfect opportunity.

You hadn't really a clue how exactly Red Bull had made the 2021 car so well that you were matching the speed of Mercedes' car but you didn't care. You were matching Lewis. And Christian Horner was a happy man. A sexist prick but a happy man nonetheless.

Pole was either Lewis' or yours. Either he was a Grand Prix winner or you were. It was a game of cat and mouse, always in a constant pursuit of each other. The same went from your team leaders, Toto and Christian, who practically had the race director, Masi, on speed dial.

And by Abu Dhabi, you were equally tied, locked at 369.5 points. It hadn't been easy after getting penalised for multiple incidents against Lewis, but you were here. Lewis was trying to get his eighth championship and you your first.

You weren't sure how this was going to end. Heck, no one could've predicted what happened that day. But all you knew was that you were not going down without a fight.

You secured pole in Abu Dhabi which had put the entirety of Mercedes and F1 on edge. After a discussion with your engineer and several strategists, you had opted for soft tyres to further your advantage over Lewis.

Despite all of that, it was Lewis who had led the first corner after those red lights had gone out. It was only by turn six did you even get a lead. But it was a moment too short as your former teammate regained his top position by going off into the damn run-off area of the track.

You didn't need to scream in annoyance. You couldn't hear Horner, but deep down you knew he had already called up Masi, demanding an investigation. Your engineer reported to you that the stewards had dismissed it. The gap between you and Lewis was getting bigger, the race was coming to and end, and you knew you needed a miracle towards the end of the race if you wanted to win.

And that miracle was called Nicholas Latifi. The poor guy had crashed into Mick and the safety car was out on the tracks. Thankfully, they were both okay, but the timing of it was simply impeccable.

You had pitted to get new soft tyres and Mercedes was on the fence about heading to the pit lane in fear of the race restarting. So Lewis didn't pit. Miracle 2.

You re-joined the track with five lapped cars in between you and Lewis. And soon enough, Race Control had given the dooming message: lapped cars were not allowed to overtake.

The taste in your mouth was bitter. You had cussed out Horner, asking why you were even seeing these lapped cars in front of you.

Then came Race Control again: only the five cars in between you and Lewis were allowed to overtake. Miracle 3.

But of course, F1 had a flair for the dramatics. Because you were fucking restarting. Putting you and Lewis on a tight show-down for the final lap.

The bad news? Lewis hadn't pitted yet.

The good news? You could overtake Lewis. Miracle 4.

And the headline? You won.

You fucking won.

You were F1's first female champion in history.

You made history... or, well, herstory?

Yes it was controversial. Yes it was dramatic. Yes, questionable decisions had been made.

But you won.

By the time you had gotten out of your car and finished with screaming and crying in pure happiness, you had finally caught a glimpse of Lewis.

A small part of you felt bad. You knew for a fact, that these decisions weren't 'human error' as the FIA would go on to claim the following year in Bahrain.

It was entertainment. It was business. It was money.

You had both worked so hard this year. But the fight between an F1 driver breaking the record for the most championship titles and the first possible female champion in F1 was too good to resist.

Things between you and Lewis after Abu Dhabi hadn't gotten worse. You just talked far less than you normally did. You barely argued with each other anymore. It was disconcerting to say the least. Especially now that you were struggling to match Max's pace, always coming second or third as per the instructions of your engineer. For a moment you thought, what was the point of winning if you weren't going to win again?

━━━━━━━━━━━

You were still determined. Beating your own teammate would be hard. But you weren't a stranger to the idea. You had spent years trying to beat Lewis while purposely being the support for him to win. They were two actions they didn't go together but it had happened.

That being said, the venture was proving to be more difficult than you anticipated. In fact, it had caused a full collision with Lewis in the first lap of the Qatar Grand Prix.

You were so focused on beating Max you hadn't taken a second to look around you.

"What the fuck was that?" Lewis' voice invaded the air as he barged into your driver's room, ridden with sweat and still in his racing gear.

"Look, I'm sorry okay. I didn't see you. It was my fault. End of story," You told him curtly, not really wanting talk to Lewis any further.

"Damn right, you didn't see me. You could've taken me or anyone out! Are you so fucking stuck up your ass that you couldn't see me?" Lewis asked incredulously.

You scoffed at his accusation. It was true. But you didn't like when the truth fell from his lips... especially not when they sounded like that.

"Lewis, drop it. No one got hurt. Let's just move on okay?" You queried, annoyance dripping from your voice.

"Why? Can't handle the truth, L/N?" He laughed gently, almost mocking you. "Right... you were always like that."

You snapped your head towards him, raising a sharp brow. "Excuse me?" You spat as if to say he was becoming dangerously close to crossing a line he did not want to cross.

Lewis folded his arms, shrugging nonchalantly. "What? You don't like the truth. It's simple. I told you that you need to be stronger because you're too soft-hearted. And you hated that. And now that I'm telling you that you're selfish, you obviously can't handle it."

"Oh my God, you are one to talk. Lewis, you are so blinded by your arrogance that you can't see anyone else win. That's why you can't accept that I won right?"

"Not Abu Dhabi, aga–"

"Yes, Lewis, Abu Dhabi again. You are so fucking sour about losing that even when the hate targeted me, you let it. You let them say that my win was due to race and gender. Me, Lewis, out of all people, me."

No matter your differences, you had stuck up for Lewis on many accounts when it came to the FIA, 'fans', and haters. But he wasn't there for you.

You could see dark expression fall onto Lewis' face. "That's not true, Y/N."

"Then what was it Lewis?" You flailed your hands in exasperation. "Because you sure as hell didn't come to my aid."

"Because you didn't deserve it!"

You blinked blankly, arms falling to your side. Your mind took a minute to process the words that had fallen from his lips in mere seconds.

Lewis' face dropped as realisation struck him. What the fuck did he just say? "Y/N, I–"

"Get out," You grumbled.

Lewis did a double-take on the fresh line of tears accumulating on your waterline. He took a step closer to you, hands reaching out. "No, no, no, Y/N, I–" But your words made him stop.

"Lewis, get the fuck out of here before I start screaming like the bitch everyone thinks I am."

You watched Lewis return his hands to the side, clenching his jaw tightly as he made way to the door of your room. He stopped briefly, hesitating to open the door, taking one last glance at you before leaving.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Four days.

You had pondered in deep thought for four days. And after 72 hours, one thing had become obvious to you.

Lewis wasn't with you or any of the other drivers. He was still in 2021, right where you had left him. Not a second had gone by for Lewis where he hadn't thought about Abu Dhabi.

What if he had just pushed for Bono and Toto to get him in that pit lane?

What if he had veered the car a little to the side and you didn't overtake him?

Lewis was still reliving the worst moment of his career and his life and everyone had moved on. Sure, every fan and commentator talked about it time to time. But it was something of the past.

To say you didn't deserve your championship title... you had heard it from several 'fans' and insignificant others. But to hear it from Lewis? It fucking killed you.

You cared about his opinion more than anyone in the world. And he knew that.

You would've never said anything as shitty as that to him or anyone for that matter.

You had worked your ass off to get to F1. Fuck, you had won F2 two fucking times because no one was willing to let a girl on their team... into a man's sport. Every driver worked hard to a certain degree. But you were a girl who didn't grow up with the means of driving yourself to your death every day. If everyone worked hard, you had worked ten times harder.

Everyone knew that you and Lewis had fought. And by the looks of it, they also knew it was far worse than your normal fights. You wouldn't look at him, you refused to speak to him, you spent minimal time in the same room, you had even paid your media fines in full to avoid everyone...

Max had even become some sort of bodyguard, telling Lewis to turn back around when he neared the Red Bull garage.

All of this protection, and yet, he had still found you in your favourite place. The one you both came to when you needed to become level-headed. The top stand of any empty Grand Prix, in this case the México Grand Prix, where the air felt a little bit cooler against your heated skin and you could think for even it was for just a second.

You sucked in a sharp breath, seeing Lewis in your periphery while you were firmly seated. He looked nervous, chewing on his bottom lip and taking cautious glances at you.

"Hey," Lewis greeted, making you raise a brow at his lame entrance.

You forced yourself to look at the rest of the empty seats in front of you. "Hey," You mumbled back, trying to swallow the bitter taste in your mouth.

An unsettling silence enveloped the both of you. You were sure Lewis was here to apologise. But you could also tell he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not in a selfish way. But in the most guiltiest way possible.

You sighed. "How are you?" You asked gently, peeking out of the corner of your eye.

Lewis winced at your question. Leave it up to you to still be this kind after what he had said to you. "Sorry. I'm so so sorry," He rasped, voice raw with the pain that had been gnawing away at him ever since those god forbidden words had left his mouth.

You nodded slowly, taking another deep breath. "I know you're going to call me soft-hearted but what you said really fucking hurt, Lew," You jested with a brief smile.

Lewis grimaced at your poor humour, before his ears perked up at the old nickname you had given him when you first started getting on each other's nerves. "I know. I'm an idiot for saying something like that. Or that you're soft-hearted. You've worked so hard for all of this. You absolutely deserve everything and that win was only the first of many, I'm a hundred percent sure of it. Your Dutch shortie doesn't really know what's coming."

You gave him a tight-lipped smile after huffing in amusement at his diss towards Max. "Thank you," you told him earnestly. "Although, I am quite positive he is like almost ten centimetres taller than you. But, thanks anyways."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "Have you seen me? You don't think I give off tall energy?"

"You mean tall in insults?" You joked, grinning at the blank look on Lewis' face.

Lewis sighed. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean any of it. And by 'it', I mean all of the insults and fights. I was just disappointed in myself. Even more so that I didn't stand up for you. I'm so sorry."

You drew your eyebrows together, turning your body to face him. Confusion filled you. "Then why did you say it at all?"

"I–" Lewis blew out a small laugh. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Lewis, can you not see me dying here? Like a whole kitchen set of knives in my back?" You deadpanned.

Lewis rolled his eyes again. So dramatic.

He brought his hands together, staring at you briefly before looking at the empty stand. "Well, obviously, I heard of you before you joined Mercedes. I thought it was ridiculous that you had to get two F2 championships to get a seat, but anyways, I digress. Toto told me, he was considering you even though you had never been in the junior team.

And I remember just being so fucking jealous of you. Toto was consumed by you. He and Horner had been fighting for your seat for so long and now that they finally had an open seat, it was chaos. Toto won, obviously. And then we met each other in person for the first time and I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world."

You felt your heart begin to race and your skin heat at the sudden proclamation. "You... you what?"

Lewis smoothly glossed over the compliment. "And then we had our first quali together and you beat me. You got pole on your first race. So you were talented and beautiful. A crime, might I add.

And so when you came to tell me, you were so excited with all your talent and beauty, I was pissed. Because out of all things in the world, I had gotten an amazing competitor I was bound to feel for. I thought that by saying you were soft-hearted and all, it would get on your bad side and it would make me less attracted to you. It didn't. It got worse while it got easier to pretend to hate you."

You blinked blankly at him, cheeks aflame. Lewis Hamilton liked you. Your stupid teammate? The same one who's eighth championship you arguably took? "I'm sorry... hold up, we've been fighting for years because I'm a hot, talented, gifted, smart driver and you're a simp?"

Lewis squinted his brown eyes at you. "I did not include all those adjectives."

"I mean... that's basically what you said," You shrugged, flickering your eyes to the setting sun.

Where did all the damn cool air go? You wondered, pressing your hands to your flushed cheeks and feeling your soft palm absorb the molten lava known as your skin.

Lewis chuckled, picking up your flustered reaction quickly. He watched as you suddenly stood up. "Okay, well I'm... I'm going to meet Hugh and find a way to beat Max. See ya!"

Lewis paused, grabbing your wrist. "Wait? What? You aren't going comment about what I just said?"

You eyed his hold on your wrist: it was searing you. You turned to him, lowering your head to meet his gaze. You briefly looked down at his lips before looking back up. "I think I prefer hating you."

Lewis felt you press your lips on his cheek before walking past him. He watched your retreating figure, your kiss feeling heavy on his face, putting him right where you had left him: absolutely and utterly smitten.

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic

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railingsofsorrow · 1 year

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hiii could i request a cute lil fic of the origin of spencer’s purple scarf? maybe reader is in the bau too and they’re secretly dating and maybe for their one month she gives him the purple scarf cuz she notices turtle necks bother him so she opted to get something that warms him up, is his favorite color, and reminds him of her if there’s ever a change they’re apart ….

he loves it ofc and starts wearing it to work and the team realizes it’s his thing now to wear the scarf if he’s cold and the reader feels all happy cuz he likes it but maybe during a tough case reader gets hurt protecting the team and in the hospital he’s like fidgeting with the scarf and morgan asks what’s up and he’s like “y/n gave me this scarf she said it would remind me of her if we’re ever apart but i don’t ever want to be away from her” AND IT ENDSS IN FLUFF PLS TJANK UUUU

maybe a cute lil recovery scene where the reader is cold and he gives her the scarf to wrap around her neck mwahhahaha and some team comments mwahahhhaha

Purple Scarf

[spencer reid x reader]

A/N: can I just say how in love with this request I was when I saw it my heart BURST. hope I granted your wishes anon <3

summary: in which yours and spencer's secret relationship is not as secret as you thought it was.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader

w.c: 3.5K

warnings/content: allusions to sexual content (you blink and you miss it); cm usual violence and confrontation; mentions of blood, hospitals and injuries; angst; teasing; fluff fluff fluff.

navi

masterpost

[requested]

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐

September 8 of 2007.

Day 30.

It's officially a month that you and Spencer are dating. More specifically 720,000 hours, 43,200 minutes and 2,592,000 seconds — Yes, he counted. It's not that surprising, his brain never stops.

“Did you finish Dandelion Wine last night again?”

Unless it's your voice. That angelic sound slipping out from your throat that resembled the A Major key in a piano; a warm blanket draping over him that soothed his mind to a less frantic place.

The way your lips curl in a smile tells him you're not phased by his nod of affirmation. Leaning on his desk with your hip, you place down his mug in front of him, coffee vapor fluttering out.

“I'm not surprised.”

His grin is hidden by sipping on the hot liquid. “Why would you be?”

“Right.”

Spencer wanted to kiss you. He'd be bashful and red at the mere thought of it a few months ago, a complete mess if your gaze so much as crossed. But he's known you for two years now, you've been friends since you entered the BAU, and he's been in love with you for half of that time. He's allowed to think that in a work environment. He's just not allowed to do it.

He's very inclined to break the rules when he feels cold fingers running through the nape of his neck. Spencer's instinctive reaction is to shrink his shoulders but he quickly relaxes.

“Don't know how you can even think about cutting it,” you say, pulling softly at his strands.

He gave you a look. “It's too long.”

“So?” you shrug. “It's pretty,” you traced her thumb across his jaw, halting on his cheek. “You're pretty.”

He doesn't know how to react to compliments first thing in the morning. Scratch that, he doesn't know how to react to compliments at all.

“You're prettier.”

“That's not possible.”

And he's about to shut you up with a kiss because frantically? How could you disagree with him on this. But you retract your hands and pull some space between you. His hurt expression isn't present for long until he notices where your gaze falls.

Derek is talking to someone behind the glass doors, his hand wavering over the entrance announcing that the conversation is ending.

Your relationship being a secret was a mutual decision. None of you wanted the attention or the teasing that would eventually come from your friends — not that that didn't occurred before. Less alone the issues with the Fraternization Policy, they'd rather leave that to the fine line in Morgan and Garcia's work calls.

“Don't cut it.” She nudges his arm. “How am I supposed to pull it?”

Spencer choked on his coffee, inciting a chuckle out of you as you rubbed his back gently. He blinked up at you in shock.

“What?”

“Great scarf. Love the color.”

He officially hates you. Yes.

Except that he doesn't. Not even a little bit.

Your menacing smile is the last thing he sees before you walk off to Penelope's office. Of course you love it, you gave it to him as one month anniversary gift that morning, while he had given you a book you've been mentioning for a while and a necklace with your birthstone in the pendant.

“I know turtlenecks bother you but I know you get cold easily so I thought you'd like it.” Spencer hadn't given you a reaction. From the moment he opened your gift box, he sat emotionless on the sofa, staring at it as his fingers stroked the soft fabric.

It was a handknit purple scarf. Spencer couldn't believe it. You made it yourself. He vaguely remembers you always knitting something in the jet when a case was over, he thought you had adopted a new hobby, not that you were doing this for him.

And in his favorite color.

He felt like crying upon seeing the S.W.R on one of the extremities. His initials.

“You didn't like it.”

His head snapped up and he's met with your uneasy gaze. He hadn't said anything.

Spencer crossed the room in a sprint and crashes your lips to his, you respond with a ooof! in surprise but quickly kisses him back just as fervently.

“I love it.” He says after you split apart. “It's the best gift I've ever gotten.” He keeps peppering your face with kisses which makes giggles to erupt out of you. “Thank you, thank you, sweetheart.”

“It's for you to remember me when we're apart.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “That was cheesy but I knitted it that so I get to be cheesy.”

Spencer fiddled with the soft fabric of his scarf, loosening it slightly. It was suddenly too warm.

He blames you for it.

The two of you were supposed to spend the rest of the day in a Contemporary Art Museum after your paperwork was done. You weren't called in for a case, so it was a last minute decision because of your hectic schedule.

“Why are you all flushed?” He turns to Derek with widened eyes.

“What?”

Derek narrowed him down suspiciously. Hotch interrupts them by calling them in for the conference room. Spencer inwardly groans but he takes it to slip away from Derek's pestering.

“Oh, that's beautiful.” JJ points at your neck as you meet in the roundtable. “Where did you get it?” Your fingers brushed against the necklace mindlessly, the edge of your lips quirking up slightly.

“It's a gift.”

JJ silently studied your features as you say down beside one another, waiting for Garcia to present the new case. That fond gaze, the sparkle in your eyes and the way your body demeanor instantly relaxed was the indication she needed to understand what you weren't saying.

“Oh,” her grin widened and she leans closer. “Who's the lucky someone?”

Your eyes lowered to your lap and you tried to pretend you were interested in your shoes. She could see you getting flustered and that made her shook her head in disbelief. JJ has never seen you that shy or even blushing. That was new.

Spencer walked in with Derek and Emily on his trail. They started discussing the case when Rossi arrived. You didn't spend ten minutes in the room before Hotch announced wheels up in thirty.

“Did you know that poor sleeping habits can interfere in your sleep quality? A study showed that daily coffee consumption and using the cellphone in bed are two of the largest factors associated with poor sleep quality. Besides stress, anxiety, depression, sleep apnea, and chronic health conditions.”

Spencer rambles on before you can settle down in one of the seats, covering a yawn with your hand.

“I'm glad you know too much caffeine is bad for your health, baby. Maybe you should follow your own advice.” You heard his snicker as he sits down with a smug smile. You chose the window seat, Emily takes your side and Derek sits across from you. Rossi and Hotch are in the seats beside yours while JJ takes the couch.

The air shifts. You feel it. It's sudden, out of nowhere and you can't figure out the reason. All eyes are set on you which makes you shift uncomfortably, sleepiness vanishing.

“What?”

“Baby?” Derek lifts a brow questioningly and you cast him a confused look. But Spencer buried his face in the file and all is clear.

“You have petnames now?” Emily teases, nudging your feet with her shoe. “That's sickening.”

“That's cute!” Penelope yells from the computer scream.

You clear your throat in a foolish attempt for cover your embarrassment. You called him baby in front of the whole team? Nice. Very nice. You stupid idiot.

“It's manner of speaking,” You shrug, grabbing the crime scene photo haphazardly.

Emily quips back a comment and Derek follows her on it. Fortunately, Hotch begins to detail what everyone else will do as they land. JJ and Reid are going to the morgue to analyse Victmology, Rossi and Emily are going to the police station and that leaves you Hotch to the crime scenes.

It took a while for you to grasp the UnSub's intentions. You spent the entire afternoon with the wrong profile to then figure out he was hunting people that had a certain face shape and visible scars. Nothing related to gender, contrary to what you believed.

When you found him, he had a knife to a woman's neck, the last victim that had disappeared two days ago. Apparently you got there exactly on time because he kept his victims for two days to bury them alive in the last one.

But he didn't want to let her go, despite the ensuing confrontation. Either he surrendered or he died, there was no in between. You wouldn't let him hurt anybody else.

“Let her go.”

Aaron's assertive tone reverberated through the warehouse. The SWAT team was blocking every exit possible, at least twenty firearms aimed at him but he still wouldn't budge.

“Can't do that,” the UnSub lowered the knife closer to the victim's neck. He seemed too calm for someone that cornered. No. You could see the slight shake in his hand that he was trying to cover. “You get back from where you came from or I'll slash her throat.”

“You won't do that.”

For some reason, you thought it was Emily speaking, attempting to get into his head. Until Derek hissed for you to stay back and you realized the voice belonged to you.

“You can get out of this, just let her go and surrender. No harm has to be done.”

“Right. So that I can spend the rest of my life tossed up behind bars? I don't think so, Agent.”

The smugness in his tone was betrayed by the twitch in his left eye and that's when you knew you were almost there.

“We can make a deal. One that'll be comfortable for you,” you promised, stowing your weapon in your holster as your eyes kept locked on his. You didn't want to find out what would happen if you even breath the wrong way. “There's twenty people with you in their line of fire. Only one way out. Let her go, we'll figure this out.” You finally reached a position close enough to the victim but not at all safe for you. You were right at his aim if he wanted to shoot you, his gun right behind the woman's head.

“Only one way out?” He scoffed, cocking the weapon to the side.

Emily said his name in a warning. Everyone yelling for him to drop the weapon. He didn't.

You should've known better.

Your ears rang with Spencer calling out your name before you were thrown on the floor roughly without a single warning. The feeling of dread crippling in your chest when you felt something wet between your fingers.

“Hey, hey,” Derek forced you to look at him. “You okay?”

You blinked down at your arm, the bullet grazed the skin, it barely touched you. A breath of relief escaped you and he shook his head in disbelief.

“You're insane,” he uttered, hugging you to which you let out a groan. Your shoulder hurt, you couldn't move it.

At least it wasn't a bullet. Derek had pushed you away on time.

•°. *࿐

The thing you hated the most about hospitals was the fluorescent lights. Your eyes were sensitive to light which was the reason you used sunglasses anywhere you went — reading glasses as well, but you didn't bother with those. No matter how many times Spencer would list the permanent harm done to your sight every time he saw you squinting at a book.

You were stubborn. To say the least.

He thought it was cute, for the most part. You listened to him although you liked to do things you own way. Okay, he respected that. Spencer loves every part of you, from the scrunch of your nose when you laughed to the rare times you'd forget the wet towel on the bed.

Sometimes, however, he wants to crawl out of his skin. How could you let your guard down in front of a madman that was ready to lose it all? Why couldn't you just stay back like Derek had asked and waited patiently on how it would play out?

But no, you wouldn't do that. You were as stubborn as a mule. And that's how you got shot in the arm and dislocated a shoulder.

“It grazed her forearm, Spence.” JJ explained for the tenth time. “She just needed some stitches.”

“But it wasn't just the grazed arm, though was it? There's also the dislocated shoulder and the almost concussion she gained as she fell on the floor.”

JJ sighed and turned to him. “You're concerned, but she's fine. It wasn't exactly wise what she did,” she said with a wince. “But it's done and thankfully didn't evolved to anything serious.”

“She reminds me of you.”

Both heads snapped around to see Derek approaching with his coffee. He pointed the plastic spoon he was stirring the coffee with directly at Spencer's face.

“What does that mean?” Spencer pulls away from the threatening spoon, the pitch of his voice raising.

Derek looks at JJ with a pointed look, she seems to understand and chuckles, nodding shortly.

Oh, they're communicating through telepathy now?

“You're both reckless.” Derek pats his shoulder, mentioning for something behind him. Just as Spencer is about to retort, he sees you through the transparent doors of your room, chuckling at something the doctor said. “See? She's awake.”

Spencer can't tell how long he stood there, staring at you until JJ nudged him.

“I've never seen you wearing scarves. Is that new?” She eyes the purple fabric around his neck with a little smile. His fingers brush against it absentmindedly.

“Uh, yeah. It's a gift. She gave it to me.” JJ blinks up at him in surprise, she was not expecting Spencer to just blurt it out like that. “... said it was something to remember her when we're apart.” His lips spread into a soft grin. He didn't even notice he was speaking out loud. “As if I can ever forget her.”

“Go see your girl, pretty boy. Stop staring.” Derek walked back towards them, pushing Spencer towards your room with a slight shove. Safe to say he hadn't heard anything Spencer said.

At first, JJ tries not to demonstrate her excitement too much. She thought that when Penelope told her they were seeing each other out of work it was a big fantasy created in her head. Everyone knew they had feelings for one another but nobody would dare think they were already past the friends phase. Oh, but JJ was so wrong. That fondness in Spencer was something new. A good something. And she couldn't be happier for the two of you.

“Hi,” you beam at the sight of your boyfriend entering the room.

“Hi.” Spencer kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your back as to not touch your injured arm. “How do you feel?”

“Ready to enter the jet and sleep the two hours we have until we land in Quantico.”

He cracks a smile, shaking his head. “You're unbelievable.”

You let out a half laugh, when your eyes met you saw a pinch of concern between his brows as he scanned you over.

“Spencer, I'm fine.”

“Can you maybe try and be more careful next time?” He says. “Don't lower your weapon while being on the aim of a serial killer?”

You hummed softly, adjusting the collar of his shirt behind the vest he was wearing. “Okay. Can you promise to do the same then? Cause you're just as reckless as me.”

He gaped at you. “I am not—”

“Spencer.”

He clips his mouth shut, blinking. “Fine? Okay. Yeah, fine.” He breathes out. “Just don't scare me like that again, please?” He pointedly says, brushing a stray strand behind your ear.

Your line of work was tough, especially if someone you deeply cared about was in the field with you. You couldn't just disconnect work and personal life in these kind of situations, as hard as you tried. Your heart leaped in your chest every time anyone from the team so much as got a minimum scratch. They're your family through and through.

And Spencer... Spencer was the love of your life. No doubt in that.

That's why it wasn't worth it to dwell on what happened in the field but focus on the after. Night outs to a bar, karaoke night, dinner at Rossi's — he makes a killer pasta — or, in this case, an Art Museum date with your boyfriend. Those moments made everything worth it.

The air shifts again. You study the room as you sit beside Spencer, trying to find any hints from what it might have caused that feeling. But everyone is paying attention to their own things and things seems normal. Or your profile skills are clouded by your exhaustion.

Something fuzzy wraps around your neck and the smell of amber and cinnamon took you to a familiar place.

“You forgot to bring a coat,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ears gently, adjusting the scarf on you. “It looks good on you too.” He shrugs, lips curling in a pout.

Can you blame yourself for wanting to kiss him so badly?

You don't do it, aware you were under profilers’ watchful eyes. Spencer lifted the arm of the seat so you could rest your head on his shoulder as he read — one time you revealed you liked the sound of page turning as he read and he made sure you always could rest against him. You might have missed the collective cooing around the jet as soon as you fell asleep but Spencer didn't and he tried to hide the tinge of red in his cheeks behind the book.

“Pay up.” Derek ordered with his hand outstreched to Emily, who promptly slapped it.

“You don't know how long.”

“My bet was that they were already seeing each other.”

“That's not fair,” Rossi chipped in. “We didn't established a period of time.”

Derek shrugs, “Not my problem. I won either way.”

“Penelope said the same thing.”

“Well, then babygirl and I won—”

“We still need a time.” Emily said thoughtfully, giving Derek his money with a huff. “This is extortion, Morgan.”

He chuckled, waving the twenty dollar bill in front of her. JJ rolled her eyes at the childishness. At the end, Derek had earned sixty bucks between grumblings of unfairness.

“When do you think?” Hotch broke the conversation, eyes not even lifting from his reports. Emily asked him what he was talking about. “I'd say that it became official in about a month.” He hadn't participated in the bet, but he could share a thing or two on the topic. God knows how long you you two have been pinning over each other.

Rossi narrowed his eyes at him, suspiciously, “You know something we don't, Aaron?”

“Just mere assumptions.”

It didn't take long for another bet to ensue. When the jet landed, each one stretched their limbs and prepared to go home, before anyone could move towards the exit, however, Spencer broke the silence.

“Hotch is right.” He said, grabbing both of your go-bags and following you out of the door.

“Did he just?” Emily froze half way standing up.

“That little shit.”

He didn't hold back the chuckle as a faint argument started.

“What are you laughing at?” You glance at him at the corner of your eye. He brushes you off, pulling you at his side by wrapping a hand around your waist. “Are you aware they can see us or...?” You queried, confused at his actions.

Spencer shrugs, kissing your temple. “They know.”

You bury your nose in the scarf and lean into his side, not even daring to ask what he means by that and neither do you look back at your friends. You'd rather face the teasing in the morning anyway.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #requested #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff

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ramp-it-up · 2 months

Text

II Most Wanted Pt. 2: Pedal so heavy

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: The feelings are getting real as you make a decision about giving Jake Syverson the time of day (or night, rather) at your 20 year reunion.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Flashbacks, horny teenagers being horny (over 18 tho). Prom night, early 2000's music, mentions of sex acts, "Captain" kink, mentions of teenage pregnancy, divorce, breakups. The Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Reckless driving?

Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the second installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

-----------------

May 2024

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

When you heard that, you went into fight or flight mode. Rage, regret, and sadness all flooded your body at once, and Sy’s eyes flicked down to your dominant hand which was curling into a fist. A wry smile started on his lips, and then he straightened up and looked you in the eye as he started to speak again.

“Butter-”

You shook your head, which silenced him. Then you raised your chin, released your fist, and turned your back, walking toward your friends.

—---

Get out (LEAVE!)

Right now

It’s the end of you and me

It’s too late (NOW!)

And I can’t wait

For you to be gone…

Carla and Tiffani followed as you fled to the restroom.

“Why did you even tell him I liked him? I blame both of you.”

You were hurt, so you brought up a 20 year old slight and lashed out weakly at your friends. You were trying to ascribe meaning to your emotions.

How could everything still hurt this much?

Carla wasn’t having it.

“Unh unh. No. Nope. We were sick of you running your mouth all the time about how cute he was. And Jakey boy had heart eyes for you since the day you walked into school, despite Becca the Bitch. After they broke up, we had to put you both out of your misery. It had to be done.”

Tiffani was nodding her head in agreement.

You sighed.

“‘M sorry guys,” you sat on the bathroom vanity and smiled to yourself about your Powerpuff councils in the 3rd floor Central High bathroom all those years ago. Then you grimaced when you thought of Sy.

“I just… Can’t…”

“So what just happened?”

Despite your surliness, Carla was ready to go to war for you.

“He wants me to go talk with him, ‘someplace quiet.’”

“Wow. Your air quotes are kind of aggressive.”

Sweet Tiffani was also calling you out.

“Maybe you do need to talk to him. I heard what happened, and it’s kind of a lot. A hell of a story.”

“Tiff has a point. You forbid us to say his name after you two broke up…”

You interrupted Carla.

“After he found out Becca was pregnant, you mean..”

“...That is a part of the story you need to hear. She did him dirty. They split when he finished his first tour. He asked about you, but you were already engaged to Scott…”

You’d heard that Sy enlisted instead of going to State for football like he planned when Becca fell pregnant, but the bit about the split hit you like a ton of bricks.

But why? And what did it matter now?

“Sy spent the better part of the last 20 years in Afghanistan, and I think it’s because…But that’s not our story to tell. You really ought to talk to him.”

“I don’t have to do-”

Your voice was a little shrill and you closed your mouth when you heard yourself. You stood in the bathroom awkwardly until the familiar beginning of a song wafted into the room:

“Teen drinking is very bad.”

Carla and Tiff started screaming the next line:

“Yo, I got a fake ID tho.”

The beat dropped and they pulled you out of the bathroom onto the dance floor.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four Everybody drunk out on the dance floor Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more Like she a groupie and I aint even on tour...

…..Everybody in this bitch getting Tipsy.

This was your thot song, and after a minute of standing there, fake offended by their dancing, soon you were shaking your ass with your lifelong friends.

—-----

Sy knew how much he was trying it when he asked you to talk, but he had been waiting 20 years for this chance.

Tonight was the night.

And he wasn’t going to let the night pass without shooting his shot. But the truth needed to be told first. He hoped that you still cared enough to let it happen.

When you stared at him blankly, he started to sweat. He knew you lived your life since then. He feared that any feelings you may have had for him were over and done with. But then he saw your hand balled into a fist, and hope entered his heart.

Sy never shrank from a fight; hell, he’d started too many, but he never wished for someone to sock him in the mouth as much as you.

He wanted to fight with you.

And he wanted to make it up to you.

His heart dropped when you walked away, but he decided to let it ride and give you some space. After you disappeared into the bathroom with Carla and Tiffani, Sy ventured into the venue, ready to interact with others now that he had laid down the challenge with you.

—---

You were having a ball dancing with the girls until that song came on. You stopped moving, the hair raised on the back of your neck. When you turned you found Sy staring right at you. You’d managed to ignore him the entire night, but this song and his blue eyes were wearing you down.

I'd sure hate to break down here Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin' I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin' So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now

You walked toward Sy, drawn to him as if on a string. You had that feeling in the small of your back as you stood before him, the one that you hadn’t felt in ages, and suddenly everything felt inevitable.

Just like it did 20 years earlier.

—---

May 2004

On Prom night, you came out of your bedroom and Sy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes never strayed from your face as he murmured,

“You look amazing.”

You blushed and smiled while your mom ‘awwwed’ and went to get her camera. You approached your boyfriend and he took your hand to twirl you around as he appraised the rest of you in your sleek emerald green dress. When you faced him again, he was licking his lips, trying to make the look on his face respectable. You smiled because you could read his mind.

Sy didn’t flinch as your mom called him “Jacob,” and you didn’t have it in you to be annoyed as she took a couple of pictures. Sy’s hand on your waist and his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin at the opening on the side of your dress made you shiver in anticipation.

You were caught up.

Soon, Sy was loading your bag into the back of Betty, and pulling off, your mom having accepted your explanation of staying over Tiffani’s after going bowling with the group after the prom.

In reality, a bunch of the crew were renting a huge chalet in the mountains, 45 minutes away. You and Sy had your own room, and you were ready to give him everything that night. You were distracted, imagining having your way with him that night.

And Sy was right there with you.

“Y’know, Buttercup, we can just head on up to the chalet.”

He cut his eyes over to you to watch your reaction. When you didn’t answer and just bit your lip, that’s when he knew.

“Our suite has its own bathroom with a shower in it. We’re definitely using that this weekend. Can’t wait to see you all soapy and wet. ‘S all I could think about in the shower tonight. Almost jerked off to the image, but I decided to save it all for later…”

Sy knew you too well, and had keyed into how you responded when he talked dirty to you. He was priming the pump for later.

You pictured Sy in the shower, his lithe muscles clenched as he fisted himself, made you suddenly need a drink of water. You cleared your throat and found your voice.

“We have to go, Sy. I spent so much time getting ready. And you look so handsome in this tux….”

You skimmed your hand down his lapel, down his torso to his thigh, and you quickly ascertained his situation. He grinned at you.

“You’re right.”

Sy winked, smiled and concentrated on the road while you tried not to be a slut in the passenger seat. By the time you reached the venue, you had yourself under control. He parked, then turned toward you.

“Let’s have a good time tonight, Buttercup. Think you can keep your hands offa me for a couple of hours?”

You scoffed, and Sy took your hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed your palm, smoothing the joke away because in reality, It was him who couldn’t help touching you.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup right now… might ruin it later tho.”

You whimpered in his grip as he kissed up your arm and you tucked a long errant curl behind his ear.

Sy’s eyes went soft and he held your hands in your lap.

“Y’know, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can dance all night if you want to. Bowl the blue balls away.”

You laughed and Sy fell in love even more. You were so beautiful.

“I love you, Buttercup, and us having sex or not won’t change that, not one bit.”

You melted as you stared at your handsome fella. He was fiddling with your hand, and then you felt something cold on your finger. You pulled your hand back and saw the delicate white gold ring with a tiny perfect diamond in the center that had been his grandmother’s.

You gasped.

“Sy!”

You looked from him to his grandmother’s ring. You’d come across it the first time you were over his house, ‘studying’ in his room on a chilly November night after football practice. You were being nosy and looking at everything you could touch as he went to get some snacks.

Sy was embarrassed when he came back and saw you with it. You thought he was mad at you for snooping, but he wasn’t. He’d told you that it was just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, not worth anything,’ and that no one would want it, but that his Gran had left it for him to give to his future wife.

“But, I’ll propose to someone with a bigger ring than this.”

Sy’s denim blue eyes held yours for a beat. Your heart flipped. You didn’t know why, because you’d only been talking for a couple of weeks and this was the first time you were alone together.

You didn’t know that Sy was repeating something Becca had told him when she turned her nose up at the antique when she happened to see it, and you didn’t care as you took the black box and sat down on his bed. You stared at the ring inside like it was the crown jewels, and after about 5 minutes of studying it, you looked up at him.

“Well. I think this ring is beautiful and precious. The detail is stunning. Your future wife would be lucky to get it.”

That was exactly when Sy realized that he was in love with you.

Back in the Bronco outside of the prom, you were in disbelief.

“What are you doing Sy….?”

All of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. But after only six short months together, Sy knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Calm down, Buttercup, this is just a promise ring.”

He kissed your hand again.

“I know we're jumpin' the gun, and we're both still young.”

Those eyes held you in a trance.

“But one day, we won't be.”

“Oh, Sy…”

“It’s my promise to you, Buttercup. I will love you ‘til the day I die.”

And it seemed kinda crazy. But you believed him.

—-

May 2024

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear An' I'd sure hate to break down here Oh, no

It was either the music, the dancing, or the alcohol, or all three that made your mind up, but you were ready to listen to what Sy had to say.

Stephanie Prince, the class president, was calling the Homecoming court up to the stage, and Sy looked that way. Anger bloomed again inside you.

Damnit, Sy needed to choose you this time.

“You still wanna talk, Sy?”

Your body language that screamed aggression: the cocked hip, the crossed arms that pushed up your tits, the tapping foot in those heels, all made Sy soft on the inside and hard on the outside for you. When he answered you, his voice broke.

“Ye– yeah.”

Christ, you had him weak. But he made a decision, found his strength, and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the Marriott.

You followed him obediently, and that set him on fire. He stopped and turned around when he reached the Bronco.

But he didn’t let go of your hand.

You two stared at each other in the late spring night air, stars winking down on you two.

“So where we goin’, Sy?”

Being this close to him again, and the feeling of his touch made all those 20 year old pheromones perk up again. Damn, this man.

This huge, handsome, hairy man.

“Where do you wanna go, Buttercup?”

What your brain was doing was insane, so you just kept silent.

Becoming mute was one of your tells. Sy was elated that maybe you wanted him, at least physically. He was so thirsty for you.

“Hm.”

Sy grunted, straightened up, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, all while still holding your hand. It was like he didn’t want to let you go.

And he didn’t.

“Tell you what. Let’s take a spin in Betty. See what’s up in the ol’ town.”

Your eyes flicked toward the truck, and you knew it was dangerous.

But you were grown now.

And so was Sy.

Sy led you around to the passenger side door to help you up into the high profile vehicle, leaning over you to buckle you in, only releasing you to put his hand on the door.

“I can’t believe you still have her,” you whispered, indicating the Bronco. “How is she still the exact same condition?”

“She’s been in storage for the better part of 20 years. Thought about her everyday though.”

Sy was looking at your lips, and the memories came flooding back.

“I bet she missed you.”

Sy cocked his head and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His voice came out gruff and he had to clear his throat again.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Sy.”

Any smooth line was lost as his brain short circuited with the concentration it took to not kiss you right now.

“Well, we’re about to have some fun together again, you, me, and Betty. Sit tight, pretty lady.”

Your cheeks heated at the compliment.

“Ok, Captain.”

Sy actually blushed, shook his head and closed the door, leaving you to breathe in the old leather smell of the Bronco with your eyes closed, conveniently leaving him to pump his fist behind the car unseen by you.

He got back in the car, jacket off. And he leaned near you to place it on the back seat, you got a whiff of him, the familiar cologne adding another dimension to your roiling senses.

When you opened your eyes, you witnessed him rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms. He caught you ogling him and you gulped and crossed your own arms and legs, angling yourself to look out of the open window.

Sy looked over at you closing yourself off from him, then smashed the gas to make sure that you'd squeal and grab his arm like the good ol’ days as he peeled out of the parking lot, pedal so heavy like you were the two most wanted criminals in town.

—---

Hit reblog if you like it!

Next part Here

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blublublujk · 7 months

Text

i just fucked your girl (and she loved it)

oneshot

word count: 11k

genre: established relationship (reader x namjoon), dark/morally gray characters and decisions

pairings: ghost hoseok x y/n and y/n x fiancé namjoon

summary:

A very lonely, horny ghost comes to haunt your dreams (and fulfills your every sexual desire).

warnings: oh my god get ready this is gonna get long. swearing, cheating?? (is it really cheating if he's dead? i'll let you decide), explicit sexual content; sexual "nightmares", unprotected vaginal sex AND anal (ITS TIME :D), rough sex, sub/dom dynamics, no safe word, submission, dirty talk, hoseok refers to people he comes across as victims (he doesn't force anyone i promise, not unless they want to ofc), masturbation, fingering, petplay? (the reader likes being called kitten), slight hand kink, slut shaming (oopsies), use of spit (oops again), use of lube, hickeys, lots of begging, hoseok's a bit mean but the ending will make it up a bit ISTG, namjoon's an innocent sweetheart, reader feels a lot of guilt, ass play (YAY), rimming (YAY pt2), mentions to gay sex and clown kink (you'll see), hoseok's like a ghost sex worker and the reader sorta manifests him, sex toys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, come shot, blowjob, hair pulling, daddy kink, breast play, creampie, a bit of a sad/angsty ending, so sorry if anything is missing I RLLY TRIED

btw there's sex scenes between namjoon and the reader AND hoseok and the reader so they both get their share.

a.n: happy fucking halloween. sorry this got a little sad towards the end, but i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i think i'll live in this world for a while. i'm so obsessed with this probably, my favorite work yet. i think this is my smuttiest work too? idk. i was gonna delete like half of it because i hate myself sometimes but i figured you guys would enjoy something a little longer so i typed and typed until my lil heart desired and this beast was created. btw i finished this at exactly 6:13pm. i thought i'd let yall know, if anyone's as crazy as me :D im so curious what you guys think about this one so feel free to comment (only if you want too ofc ^.^) idk when i'll be back with something new but please be patient with me. i promise im not leaving lol i just get busy. OKIE THIS IS SO LONG SORRY AND ENJOY. byeee <3

p.s. i do plan to write an epilogue cuz this got crazy at the end. so much left unsaid. my brain is sooo... lol

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

It was the same damn nightmare.

For the past three weeks you had been waking up in coldsweat, heart nearly beating out of your chest, breathing so out of control. You could barely hold yourself up.

And still somehow, you woke up drenching your panties of your own slick arousal.

It was the same nightmare from yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that. You would end up in a dark, ominous apartment. It was yours, but somehow different. The apartment was pitch black, flashing red lights from time-to-time, as if someone in the building had pulled the emergency alarm. You would crumble in your bed, closing your eyes and praying it would end soon. That’s when he would appear.

A man in all black, long dark tousled hair. His teeth were bright, you could tell by the smile on his face while he watched you wither away in your sheets. The glow in his dull, sharp eyes would shine even in the dark.

He watched as you squirmed in your bed, feeling heavy, unable to stand by your own strength.

“Don’t force it, darling. Take what you need.” The stranger would say with a strong raspy tone, smelling your arousal fall into the sheets below your bottom. You were always bare in your nightmares as if you were waiting and submitting for him.

You couldn’t resist the feeling. At his call, your fingers would come to relieve the ache between your thighs. Playing with yourself as if you were alone, but it was far from the truth. He would watch as you pumped yourself two fingers deep, sighing and whimpering, satisfied that you no longer felt empty.

Sometimes, well no most times, he would join you in your nightmares. He would tear your hands from your leaking cunt sparing mercy and you would complain against your sheets. The stranger wasn’t that bad, not for long at least, because he would fill you with his own two fingers, his eyes would dilate watching you fall apart. He was smooth and precise, he would curve his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on target, loving the sinful sounds you made as you arched your back and yelled moans without holding back.

Once he was satisfied and right as you were about to explode, he would pull away, whipping his hard, swollen cock out of his pants and tugs on himself, forcing you to watch as he pleased himself . Of course you wanted it, but this was so wrong, very wrong.

The worst part is he wouldn’t just give it to you, he would make you beg for it. “Talk to me baby, you want it?”

You would shake your head, denying him and trying to pull yourself from under him, but realistically it is all you wanted. You wanted to taste the beads that fell from the slit of his hard cock. He was fucking big and that itself made you go fucking insane, his hands wrapped around his length nicely. You tried to stop your thoughts from going any further, but your imagination was a powerful thing, thinking about how his pretty hands would feel wrapped around your throat instead of his dick.

“Oh, you don’t? Maybe I’ll just leave you like this then.” He would say and it fucked with your head.

That was the last thing you wanted. “But– m’ so empty.”

“Then beg for it slut, you don’t have to be empty and lonely for long.” His tongue was smooth and wet against your skin as he licked down your throat, sucking little marks onto your skin. He had you wrapped around his fucking fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You wanted to move but at the same time, you wanted him to have his way with you. God can forgive you for this later.

“I c-can’t.”

“What a shame. I’ll just take care of myself and leave you here to watch.” He would start pumping his cock faster, tugging at the crown of his length.

You made an agonizing sound of complaint. “Please.”

“Please what little kitten?”

He was mean. So mean.

And you were fucking stupid.

“Please, f-fuck me.” You begged so sweetly.

The man would smile sinisterly before shoving himself deep inside you, forcing a scream of pleasure. He was not gentle in any way and you fucking liked that. As sick as it was.

He fucked you like his only mission was to make you come and drive you insane, pushing your legs far apart and brutally fucking deep into your walls.

He would watch you fall into your sheets, murmuring noncoherent words, completely submitting to the stranger you fell apart in his complete mercy.

What an honor.

“That's it baby. Squirt all over my dick.” His voice was always deep and you swore you could hear a smirk between his words.

Like magic his words would rip intense orgasms out of you and he would fuck you through them all until you eventually collapsed unconscious.

You wake up in a gasp, the wet feeling between your legs nearly makes you gag.

This can’t be. Not again.

“Baby, wake up.” A voice calls gently, soft hands soothe your back, patting and rubbing gently. “It’s just a nightmare, love. I’m here.”

“Joonie?”

“Yes baby. I’m here, go back to bed. I’ve got you.” His calm voice manages to settle the beating drum of your heart and still, this is the exact problem with these recurring nightmares.

Even as your fiancé rubs circles into your back, all you can think of is the hands of that strange man that would fuck you into a delrious state. You hated it. It felt too close to cheating.

If only Namjoon saw what your nightmares truly consisted of, he would be horrified and disgusted. Every night was worse, the guilt slowly started building in the pit of your stomach as you would daydream about the nightmare over and over and over.

…

“You okay baby?” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, aware that your mind was somewhere else during dinner.

“I- yes.” But you weren’t okay. Not one bit. Flashbacks of the man in your nightmares would haunt your thoughts. These nightmares would play in your head like old memories.

His hooded eyes watching as you fucked yourself open. He would whisper things like, ‘that’s it kitten, so fucking wet all for me’ and ‘good kitten, nice and tight for me’.

“Imagine what your fiancé would do if he saw the way you squirm in my hands. He could never fuck you the way I could, kitten. Isn't that right? Only I fuck you exactly the way you like it. My little submissive kitten.”

“Please.” Begging is all you could muster to do in your dreams. You felt pathetic. You never wanted someone so bad. The guilt only grew stronger when you realized you were fucking addicted to your own dreams. You started chasing these nightmares.

What was wrong with you?

“Baby?” Namjoon called your attention once again, smiling apologetically. “You feeling okay? Your face is quite flushed.”

Your hands fall onto your face feeling the slight burn against your palms. “Sorry. I’m okay, just a little hot in here is all.”

“It’s the end of October baby. It’s been really cold out. I’m surprised you aren't begging me to warm you up by now.” He tries to carry the conversation into a lighter, more casual matter.

A nervous smile breaks out onto your lips, as you brush a piece of hair out of your face. “Must just be experiencing hot flashes. It happens when I’m a bit more stressed than usual.”

“Anything you wanna talk about? You know you can talk to me.” He’s sweet and present for you as usual. You feel your heart drop thkining about how this is what you are missing out on by feeding into those stupid fucking nightmares. Something had to change.

Wake up, Y/N.

“Yeah, I know babe. It’s nothing to worry about. Just work stuff.” You make an excuse for yourself and it seems to work, for now.

“Mm, okay. Don’t be afraid to come to me for anything. I don’t want you suffering alone.” Your fiancé places a hand on top of yours, squeezing it softly.

“Thank you, Joonie.” This time you give him a real smile, but the guilt still stays hidden deep inside you watching as he reciprocates the smile back at you.

“There’s my beautiful bride-to-be. Stop worrying so much baby. Maybe you should take some time off from work. You know sleep usually makes you feel better. It always has. My sleepy girl.”

And there it goes and hits you all at once again.

Guilt. So much guilt. Sleep doesn’t even feel enough these days. The nightmares make you feel as if you never rest. You are clearly aware that dreams aren’t real life, but you even wake up sore from them. It’s scary how realistic it all feels. Maybe that’s why this makes it worse for you. Everything feels too real.

“Yeah… I’ll think about it.” But you won't because time off means resting and resting means more sleep and more time for these nightmares to keep haunting you. It’s like you will never win.

“Eat your dinner baby, it's getting cold.”

—-

The daydreams continue even at work.

“Let me see that perfect ass, kitten. Turn around for me.”

It’s like he completely owns you, hypnotized by his voice. You immediately present for him, face down and ass up sitting so nicely.

“Fuck kitten, look at you. Tell me, does that lame fiancé of yours ever play with this ass?”

You whimper a ‘no’ feeling a glob of spit drip into your unused, virgin hole. His thumb caressing the wet ring of muscle, watching you clench around nothing.

“I’ll change that soon, kitten. Just how you like it.”

Namjoon wasn’t necessarily opposed to butt stuff, the one time you mentioned it he briefly dismissed it. Granted, he was busy at the time with some work, and you were too embarrassed to bring it up again.

It seems you got lucky nonetheless.

The man blows hot air into your wet hole, his lips felt soft against your ass. He would leave a kiss here and there before his tongue peaked out and circled around your rim.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You weren’t the most vocal sexual partner yet somehow, under his touch, you were the loudest.

Moans fell dangerously loud from your lips as he would continue to fuck his tongue deep inside your ass. Stopping every few seconds to stare at your puffy rim, gaping around nothing. Fuck, what a sight for sore eyes you were.

“Please.”

“What baby?” His palm was heavy against your ass, watching it bounce back.

“More.” You would beg.

“Anything.” He would purr back.

A thumb circled around the velvety muscle before pushing right in, fucking his thumb alongside spit that dripped from his mouth.

Yes. Just how you like it.

“Y/N?” Your coworker brushes a hand against your shoulder. “You doing okay?”

“Shit– yeah, my bad Yoona. I’ve just been feeling a bit sick lately, I think I’m coming down with a cold.” Which is a complete lie, but how do you tell your coworker you’re having wet daydreams about another man (who by the way only exists in your imagination) that isn’t your fiancé and that it is taking over every part of your life and that the guilt of it all sits heavy on your chest as days pass by and there is nothing you can do about it, but indulge in these dreams and practically live in them because you’ve become an addict.

Yoona breathes out a light hum. “You don’t seem sick.”

Fuck.

“Yeah… well it’s just starting, my throat feels dry and sore these days.”

“Maybe you should take a day off?” She suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.” You agree just so she gets off your back.

“You’ve been working a lot these days anyways. I’m sure Mr. Gyun wouldn’t mind if you called off. You’re one of his favorites anyways.” She laughs and you fake a smile.

“Yeah, right. I’ll think about it. Let's just focus on work. We need this revised and sent off by Monday.”

“Sure sure. But I’m being serious, take a day off or two, you look like you need it. You seem… tired?” She says, worrying by the sound of her tone.

Because you know she will never let this go, you reassure her. “Yoona, I love you to death, but don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll take some time off if it gets worse. Thank you, really.”

“Alright, just looking after you Y/N. Your soon-to-be husband would kill me if I didn't.”

“I’ll tell him you’re doing a great job, now back to the transcripts…”

—-

You knew the night would eventually come.

There was only so much you could ignore and forget.

A sudden rush of heat wakes you from one of your nightmares, the jolt in your body scaring Namjoon awake beside you. You knew that he meant no trouble, but he gave you the face of ‘this again?’ and you could no longer push it aside.

“Baby?” Namjoon’s voice is tired and filled with sleep, but he asks anyways while patting your back gently, as he always does when this happens like the sweet fiancé he is. “What happens in these dreams anyways?”

How do you tell your husband-to-be and boyfriend of seven years that you get completely ruined by another man in your sleep?

Namjoon was far too sweet and innocent to get mad at you for this and you knew that. Yet the guilt never stopped you from feeling terribly about the situation.

“You won’t be upset with me?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

Namjoon stands to turn on the nightlight by the bed before he lays back and wraps his strong arms around your waist. “Baby, look at me.”

With heavy eyes, you look back at your fiancé.

His palm cradles your soft cheek, pushing a loose hair behind your ear. “I could never be upset with you, my love. It might help to talk your nightmares through. I’ll be right here with you baby.”

With shaking hands, you take a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know where they come from, but there’s this man in my dreams.”

Namjoon raises a brow, doing his absolute best to understand you even while the clock reads in bold 3:44am.

“This man, he’s dressed in all black. He— he has these dark eyes.”

“Dark eyes?”

“Yeah, he— his eyes are dark, sharp all around, it’s sinister.”

“Okay. What happens?” He whispers, pulling you even closer into him, your hand falls into his chest for comfort.

“He— he…” You struggle finding the right words.

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Baby, d-does he hurt you?”

No. Of course not. In fact, he does the opposite. The man pleases you until you can’t give him anymore and he leaves you with sore limbs and the burning stretch between your legs as a reminder of what he’s done to you and what he’s capable of.

You quickly shake your head. “No but he- he touches me and does things to me.”

“Oh honey, why would I be mad at you about that? That’s completely unacceptable. Nobody should be touching you or doing things to you if you don't want it. I see now why this bothers—”

“Joonie, I feel,” you start and swallow the awful feeling in your throat, “ I feel like… if I've been cheating on you.”

“Baby, I know you would never. They’re just nightmares after all. It’s not like you enjoy it baby.” This is what you mean by Namjoon’s too innocent and kind-hearted to see past the lines between your words.

“But- I.”

“Wait… do you? Do you enjoy them?” Namjoon almost looks hurt to ask the question, but he’s quick to reassure you. “It’s okay baby, if you do.”

“I do.” You whisper like it’s some dirty secret.

There’s a pregnant pause before Namjoon pulls you completely flush against his body, rubbing circles behind your back. “It’s okay baby, it's okay. They’re just nightmares. They mean nothing.”

He kisses your hair for comfort and you let out a sob because they are much more than that to you and you know it. They are all you can think about. Shit, you think if you were given the chance, you would actually let that man have his way with you in real life. And it makes you feel disgusting because you know you enjoy this dynamic way too much.

At first, it was terrifying, you didn’t know the man and he, well he just became a weakness and you wanted him so bad, as much as you hated to admit it. Your imagination was a powerful tool. Why you and why with him? Why couldn’t your dreams be with Namjoon, your high school sweetheart?

“I’m so sorry, Joonie. For all these long nights. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The nightmares don’t stop, in fact they only feel longer and they get worse.” You cry into his chest.

“I know honey, it’s not your fault. Just think of me whenever you feel this way, okay?” He pulls back, wiping your tears off with his sleeves. Your fiancé was so fucking sweet and that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. He was never angry at you or disappointed. Namjoon was always patient with you and a complete sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking stupid.

“And I’m not mad at you, okay? I never will be. Those nightmares mean nothing to me. I love you Y/N.” Your fiancé whispers into your hair, kissing the side of your face.

Namjoon has always been way better than you because had you been in his shoes, you couldn’t phantom hearing about him enjoying the presence of another woman. He knew only one part of this story. Namjoon doesn’t know that you spend evenings, the time you have the house alone while he’s off at work, fucking yourself to this strange man’s voice in your head. That you open yourself up just how you do in your nightmares and you swear you hear his voice telling you to keep going. You swear you hear him calling your name asking you about how Namjoon would feel about this. Like if his whole purpose is to make you feel worse about the situation. He’s ruining your life and you’re letting him. You think you’ve given up and it’s just started.

“I- I love you too.” You reply.

Namjoon smiles apologetically, hands gentle against your skin. “Let’s sleep?”

You nod and he pulls you against his hard chest, rubbing your back while he attempts to lull you back to sleep. It eventually comes, but not before you wake to those dark eyes again and the nightmare continues. This time you don't even fight it. He fucks you until you feel yourself collapse and you swear nothing has ever felt better.

…

The next morning Namjoon gently shakes you awake. “Good morning my love, you slept through your alarm. I figured you could take a day off so I called your boss to let him know you couldn’t come in today. I hope you don't mind.”

“Joonie?” Your voice is the cutest in the mornings (according to Namjoon), he smiles watching you struggle to wake up.

“Yes, my baby. I’m just getting ready to leave for work, but I wanted to say goodbye before I leave.”

Well, it’s not like you have a choice so you accept your fate. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, honey. You slept quite well. You didn’t even wake up this time! Did it help? Talking through it?” Again, Namjoon could be so clueless.

The only reason you slept this well is because you were fucked into oblivion in your dream. As unbelievable as it may sound, you even felt sore down there. But he doesn’t have to know that, so he’ll just go off to work thinking that cuddles and his sweet words drifting you back to sleep actually worked.

“Yeah… yeah it did. Thank you again. Have a nice day at work.” You say, still warmly tucked in bed.

“I will, baby. ” He drops a peck into your cheek, smelling the fresh scent of his aftershave. “Call me if anything. See you later, my love.”

And like that you are left alone once again. The only thing that remains is the fluffy feeling of his plump lips buzzing against your cheek, a faint reminder that you are loved and have been for years, while you think about another man, one that only exists in your deepest darkest of dreams.

—-

Hoseok doesn’t remember how it happened. All he knew is he was standing in a place unknown, sensing there was another being in the room with him.

It's not his first time around a mortal human. No, in fact he had so much experience with lustful humans with all kinds of desires and wishes, but it has been quite long since he was manifested this strongly into someone’s dreams.

His favorite part was watching them act as if they didn’t ask for it. Call for him. They would lie and say that they could never fuck a dead being. A ghost at that. As if they didn’t manifest him themselves.

It's not like it was Hoseok’s fault for dying young and handsome and that now he tends to people’s guiltiest pleasures. It's not like he has anything better to do in the after-life. In reality, he’s doing people a grand fucking favor. The best thing about fucking a dead ghost is there’s absolutely no consequences, at least that’s what he always tells his victims. Unless you get addicted to one, then that’s really a personal problem. They can’t stay on mortal land forever, but for the time being Hoseok has become attached to his time here. Especially with his new little mortal toy.

When he first heard the calling, he almost missed it. He was fucking another mortal, a man in his mid-twenties to be exact. The man had called for him in his dreams and he attended to his duty with pleasure.

This man had a thing for clowns and Hoseok wasn’t no fucking clown, but he did his best to please him. His outfit was in all black (of course, it was his favorite color) and fit him quite well though it was different from his usual style, even down to the clown hat and all.

The guy would scream under Hoseok as he would pound into him like some fuck-doll and would have him come undone within minutes. He was so fucking easy to please. They always are.

When Hoseok came to you the first night. That’s how you found him. He still had the same outfit on (he was ripped from the last dream) and his hat had nearly fallen off in the process, but he was pleased when he came across his next victim. You were beautiful.

“Who— who are you?” You screeched, covering yourself up, cheeks flushed. You had been doing unspeakable things to yourself in the dream. “What are you doing in my room?!”

Hoseok smiles. God, they always are the same. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to and don’t mind me, keep doing what you were doing before I had rudely interrupted.”

The stranger goes to sit by the vanity in your room, making himself extremely comfortable as if it is a regular Tuesday night for him.

You try to stand and it's like something washes over you. The strange force pushes you back down and you have no choice but to take it.

The man chuckles, throwing his hat aside. “Don’t hurt yourself trying. Just let your instincts guide you. Tell me what it is you want, this will all go much smoother and much faster.”

The stranger in black winks and you feel disgusted (though your pussy doesn’t seem to agree with you).

Still you manage to say, “I want you to get out of my fucking room. I’m about to get married, you know and he’ll fucking kill you.”

“Ohhh.” He purrs, standing as he walks across the room. He stops a couple steps from your bed and leans down to match your height. “But you asked for me to come, baby. So guess what? Now I am your problem.”

He pinches your nose, wrinkling his own in the process and flashes a charming smile.

You swat his hand off you almost immediately. “I— I didn’t ask for anything. I don’t even know you and I don’t want to know you.”

“Mm, but soon we’ll know each other very well. Let’s not fight this.” The man’s voice is silky and you could practically see the sinful desire in his eyes while they take in your naked figure.

You have no idea what he even means by that, but right now you could care less. This is just a nightmare and soon enough, he will disappear and you will get to go back to doing what you were doing before he ever existed.

“Leave me alone please.”

The guy puts his hands up clearly coming and going in peace, while retreating back a few steps. “Whatever you say princess. I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

And just like that the man disappeared into a black distorted shadow.

He shows up only three nights later.

This time he catches you on your knees, riding a dildo on your bed. You don’t even hear him until he’s in front of you. Your hips stop mid roll. Whimpering as you feel the tug on your hair.

“Seems you’re ready.” He rasps, having a strong grip on your hair forcing you to look up at him.

“I— who the fuck are you? Seriously? What do you want with me? I know I’m dreaming and I can wake up any secomd so what the fuck do you want with me.” This time you don’t even entertain him. It’s clear this man has his own vulgar intentions, you wanna skip the small talk. He doesn’t seem like the type to give up until he gets exactly what he wants.

“The better question is what do you want with me. You manifested me after all, darling.”

Your eye twitches at the pet name, but you ignore it, for now. “But— I don't know you. How is that fucking possible?”

Even though he knows you won't understand it completely, he still answers truthfully. “I’m dead baby. Anything is possible.”

Great, so you’re just supposed to believe this man is some ghost haunting you in your dreams. Perfect!

This time you don’t ignore his stupid use of pet names. “S-Stop calling me that.”

“Oh?” The man pouts, and to be honest that does something to you. If the situation was different maybe you would admit he looks fucking sexy, even if he’s a menace.

His brows furrow, his jawline clenching as he speaks. “Is there another pet name you like? We’re already getting farther than last time, princess.”

You don’t even attempt to hold back the scoff, your eyes roll back. “No. I don’t— I didn't ask for you and I don’t want you bothering me anymore. Just please leave me alone. Please.”

The man groans, looking down at you with hooded eyes, the fist in your hair grips harder reminding you that he still had you under his control. “God, but you sound perfect begging. Are you sure of that, kitten?”

The man's voice drops in a sultry tone, nearling purring while he speaks. And somehow, that manages to slip a whine from your throat, nearly drooling at the sight.

Your eyes immediately widen. “I— I didn't mean that.”

“Oh, so that’s what you like.” The man smiles, petting your head affectionately. You were fucked. “Of course you didn't. You were so close weren't you, kitten?”

You shake your head, you’re unable to look away, but at the same time you want to throw his hands off you. You felt completely powerless under his gaze and you were liking it a lot more than you would like to admit.

“Don’t bother lying to me princess, I can smell it. You were so fucking close.” He whines the last part, biting his bottom lip, he seems to breathe in the scent. “So fucking close. I’m sorry. I always join at the worst times, you can continue.”

He offers like a fucking weirdo, pervert and still you disgustingly want it.

“I said, don't call me that!” Your hand flies to his and forces it off you.

“Then talk to me.” He’s rough, but firm with his tone.

“No. I don’t- can't and I won't. Go bother someone else.”

“I can’t. You asked for me and you brought me here. Now you have to deal with this.” He doesn't attempt to put his hands back on you, but he does let his gaze wander seeing as you still haven’t moved from your dildo.

“This is bullshit. It’s just in my head anyways. If I close my eyes it’s like you aren’t even here. Now let me fucking come in peace.” Your eyes closed in the middle of your rant and he seemed to listen. Hoseok backs off, watching you from your wall to be exact, but he lets you take care of yourself. That’s what he’s there for after all.

After a few seconds of calming yourself down and regaining your arousal, you slowly lift yourself up feeling the dildo pull against your walls and you drop yourself back down.

Hoseok was right, you weren’t too far away from coming, but he messed up your pace and now you have to work yourself back up.

It doesn’t take too long before you set a quick pace, fucking yourself onto the silicone length.

Truly it wasn’t that you and Namjoon’s sex life was bad, in fact he was the best fuck of your life (not that you had much experience given he was your high school sweetheart) but after years of being together, things had changed, a lot.

You don’t even remember the last time you guys got creative in bed, besides a few vibrators from time-to-time. It was starting to get boring and you didn't want to admit this to him, but you wanted so much more. It's like your body was begging for it. And you didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying it, so instead you kept it to yourself and the sexual frustration built up overtime making it impossible not to think about constantly.

You gasp when you finally open your eyes to find the man watching you with heavy lidded eyes from your wall, he’s not even touching himself, but you can see he’s hard in his pants.

He licks his lips as he watches you jump down on the dildo ferociously. Your eyes make contact and that's when everything seems to explode.

Moans start slipping from your lips and you feel the knot in your stomach start to build quickly. The silicone molds around your walls perfectly, feeling the tip brush against your sweet spot repeatedly, fisting the sheets below you.

Hoseok’s nose seems to flare and he can practically taste your arousal in the air. He watches as you bounce on that useless dildo, wishing it was his cock instead. Your mouth falls open, drool nearly spilling while you feel the knot coming undone.

It isn’t long before Hoseok finally decides to speak and it does wonders. “Come, you fucking slut.”

Fuck.

On call, you come and he’s forced to watch you moan and writhe against your sheets, feeling the dildo slowly push out of you.

He pushes himself off the wall and comes towards you and you feel too exhausted to push him away. You are laying in the middle of your bed now, dildo still between your legs but it’s fallen out.

You feel as he pushes the dildo back inside you overstimulating your used hole as he fucks it into you deeply. You really, really shouldn't let this happen. You are going to be a married woman soon for fuck’s sake, but it all feels so fucking good- risky yet new, so you can’t help but to feed into temptation.

Sadly, your body denies it, for now at least. “N-No I can't. Not anymore.”

His action comes to a halt. “I know. Maybe next time, kitty.”

And he disappears once again.

Disappointment and guilt builds all too quickly.

Disappointed that he didn’t stay and fuck you until you passed out. And guilt that you just came in the eyes of another man and on his call.

—-

As expected, you spend your whole day off thinking about the stranger. The way he looks at you, the way he bites his bottom lip while taking you in. The way he grips your hair and clenches his sharp, symmetrical jawline when he has you falling apart in his hands. You could feel his touch, it’s impossible you know, but it all feels too real and it all happens so fast.

He had a name now. He told you in one of your dreams while he was taking you from behind.

“Say my name kitten. Who’s fucking you this good? Fuck, what a sight from behind. You’re just perfect all around, aren’t you?” Hoseok’s hands grip onto your ass cheeks, fucking into your pussy brutally. He hasn’t stopped pounding into you and it’s already been ten minutes. Maybe more? Maybe less? You stopped counting. Good dick leaves you feeling stupid.

“H-Hoseok.” You whimper into your pillow, you think you have officially lost your fucking mind.

“What?” You swear you can hear the smirk on his lips.

“Hoseok.” You’re louder this time, but your voice is muffled, face falling into your pillow.

“Louder slut!” There’s a sting on your ass and he has a fistful of your hair, lifting your face from up the pillow while he continues to ram into you from behind. You realize you are so fucking close and he knows it too, you try to meet his strong thrusts, but it’s no use because it knocks the air from under you. He manages to hold you up with a strong grip. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so tight around me, kitty. You gonna come on my dick now like a good slut? Huh?”

“Yes!” This time your voice is loud and you scream without holding back. “Hoseok! Hoseok! Oh, nghh… fuck, Hoseok!”

His name falls from your lips over and over while you come on his cock, just like he asked of you. That satisfies him enough and he squirts his own orgasm all over your plump ass, watching you come down from your own afterglow.

You had come to the fucked conclusion that the only way to possibly fucking fix something like this (as sick as it may sound) is to fuck it away. You had to tell Namjoon, maybe experiment a bit more just so you can finally get this man out of your head. Regain your peace of mind. Namjoon would do anything you’d ask of him, you could assure that. You just had to find a way to tell him so he wouldn’t feel it was his fault or as if he was lacking. Or you could just not tell him.

Either way you think fucking this away would help for the time being at least.

Sex is a very special and intimate practice and that’s genuinely how it always felt with Namjoon. He always took his time with you and fucked you slow and deep.

Before, you will admit that it was nice and that’s why he attracted you so much but now, you don’t want it to be nice or slow. You want someone to play rough, break your limits, and touch you in places you haven’t been touched before. You want to be tossed around, fucked until you can’t speak any coherent sentences. Was that just too much to ask for?

(Hoseok sure didn't think so.)

Right as you had finished cooking dinner, Namjoon made his way through the front door, setting his work bag down by the coat rack.

“You’re cooking?” Namjoon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Smells good.”

“Yeah, I figured you deserved a nice meal to come home to. I didn’t have much else to do.” You swiftly kiss him back.

Namjoon pulls you in closer, arms holding you tightly. He still smells as fresh as he did when he first left. “I told you to rest, my love. You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I know, I know. I really wanted to though. Let’s just eat, we'll talk after.” He nods and kisses your cheek once more.

“Let's eat then.”

…

Namjoon decides a movie night is needed on a night like tonight.

You were more clingy than usual (and of course, he loves it). So he puts on a random movie and allows you to cuddle him up to the fullest of your extent.

“You’re so cuddly today, my love.” Namjoon whispers into your hair, mid-movie.

“I just missed you is all.” And you really did, it's been long since you and Namjoon had an intimate night (maybe since these dreams started), you think it's finally time.

He smiles rubbing his hand down your arm. “I missed you too honey.”

You lift your head from his chest and lean in slowly, he immediately picks up on the drift and leans down to meet your lips.

His lips are soft against yours, kissing you with gentle movements. His palm comes to rest on your cheek while you escalate the kiss.

Your tongue comes up slowly and he lets you in quite easily. You take a hand and rake it down his chest, pulling yourself on his lap carefully.

You start to slowly whine your hips, making it all too obvious about what you need and want. Namjoon follows along without complaints.

“Do you wanna?” Namjoon asks, a bit breathless, bringing his forehead against yours.

“Yes.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

Namjoon smiles and steals one last kiss before he attempts to stand, thinking it would be best to move this to the bed, but you hold him down with a shove to his abdomen.

“No. I want it, right here.” You say, finding yourself a little breathless yourself, you needed this.

His eyes seem to widen for the moment, but he seems to agree and pulls you back in for a kiss, this time he lets his tongue push into your mouth further exploring. He tastes the sweet tang of red wine on your tongue and he groans into the kiss.

You pull back only for a second as you get rid of your shirt and he starts to unbutton his own. Once the shirts are off, you tug your bra off freeing your breast and bring your lips back together with great force.

Though he doesn’t complain, Namjoon is in shock. He hasn’t seen you this needy and desperate in years, he thinks? Or at least he doesn’t remember it like that. He lets you rut against his already hard member and kisses you with equal passion.

The next time he pulls away, he tugs on your leggings and he helps you out of them. Typically your panties come down with it, but you decide you’ll just push them aside. You return the offer by pushing his jeans down, including his briefs, his dick slaps against his stomach weighing heavy.

Your mouth instantly waters, but right now you want him inside the rest will just have to come another time.

Namjoon looks at you with so much love and admiration and for a minute, the guilt comes crashing down. You want him, you know you do so why is the guilt still there? Is it because even as you have your lover right where you want him all you can think about is how the stranger (Hoseok) from your dreams would have had you flipped onto the couch and had his way with you hours ago. Maybe he would have fucked you against the kitchen counter, defile the damn marble. Maybe he would have taken you right against your front door, like the slut you wanted to be for him. All you know for sure is he wouldn’t have let this much time pass.

You shake your stupid thoughts away and look back up at your fiancé. This is where you want to be. Where you fucking belong. Without letting your imagination run wild, you rub yourself against Namjoon’s hard length, spreading your arousal all over him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby.” He bites a moan back, feeling your warm juices, slicken his cock.

You moan against his mouth when you feel the tip latch on to your hole, slowly sinking down on him. You feel his cock stretch your warm walls and he feels he could come already. It's just been so long (can anyone really blame him).

You bring your hips up a bit before crashing back down feeling the burn on your tight heat.

“So warm and tight baby.” His hands land on your hips, toying with the band of your panties. “Come here.”

Namjoon brings you flush against his chest slowing your movement, his lips crash into yours. The kiss feels much different from before. He doesn’t hold back, as soon as your tongue clashes with his, he sucks and bites it playfully. You groan into his mouth, accidentally squeezing harder against his length.

“Fuck baby, just like that.” His dick twitches deeply against your velvety walls, you can tell he’s holding back. “I think I’ll come soon if you continue like this.”

Like hell, you’ll let him come now, you’ve barely had your fill. Without no desire to, you slowly slide off his dick, dropping knees first onto the cold floor below you.

“Baby–” Namjoon starts, but you push his hands away as he tries to pull you back up.

“Let me do this, you’ll last longer.” He hesitates, but eventually surrenders, laying his hands aside. “Don’t be scared to use your hands, use my mouth, Joonie.”

Fuck. How could his own perfect, sweet wife-to-be sound this seductive? He hasn’t heard you talk this way since college. And it’s been years since that. He thought the years of young, hot sex were over but he’s been wrong all along. His fiancée was the sexiest woman in the world, that he was sure of.

Namjoon’s hands find your hair and push you towards his glistening length. It’s already drying, shame, you thought, let’s keep it warm and wet.

Wrapping hands around it, you take his cock into your mouth, sliding your tongue across the slit, hearing a raspy moan come from Namjoon’s throat. “That’s it baby, God your mouth feels incredible.”

The tip of his cock weighs heavy against your tongue. He’s breathing heavy, while he watches you take him in further. You warm his cock with your mouth just as nicely as when you were on top of him.

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him as far as you could go, hearing his desperate grunts. Namjoon takes a grip of your hair (he’s still very gentle with it and you try not to be disappointed) and pushes you just a bit further, feeling your throat stretch around him. “F-Fuck baby. I really won’t last.”

You tap his thigh and he immediately lets go when he sees your eyes water. You pull off with a pop to catch your breath. “I know.”

Your voice is raspy and it’s the sexiest thing Namjoon has ever heard. And you know exactly how to make this whole situation better. Sometimes, a little whiny purr in your voice is all that’s needed to get exactly what you need. “I just want you to come down my throat. Please, fuck my throat daddy.”

Now if Namjoon wasn’t sure he could bust before, he could definitely nut in your fist right in that instant. Yes, he has a daddy kink, sue him.

“Come here.” Namjoon demands, doesn’t hesitate this time to tug you up a little harder and place you in his lap, before he shoves your back against the couch.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, but the answer is pretty obvious when you see him line his cock up to your hole.

“Fucking you. I’m gonna come inside you. Don’t worry baby, I won’t stop fucking you until you are statisfied.” It’s like music to your ears, his hard member slaps against your clit before he slowly eases back inside you.

Both moaning at the feeling, he lets you adjust for a few seconds, but you waste no time to wrap your legs around his hips and pull him close.

“Please daddy, just fuck me.” You whine into his ear.

This time Namjoon pulls back and right before he slides out, he slams back in, balls smacking into your ass. He fucks you just like that for a while. He’s fast but skilled, finding your sweet spot quite easily. It reminds you both of older times, when things were much easier, when you were both young and easily influenced.

You moan loudly into his neck, toes curling as he fucks his dick deep inside you. “Right there daddy, please don’t stop.”

Sweat starts forming on his forehead and his hair that had once been held back by gel begins sticking to skin. It isn’t a surprise to feel him thrust harder and faster, his tongue poking at his cheek as he concentrates. “Fuck baby, I really missed fucking you just like this. You feel so tight around me, look so fucking sexy, just like this baby.”

You eat up his praise, biting your bottom lip as you feel the tight grip he has on your hips, drilling into you like he used to. Fuck, maybe you were right. This was exactly what you needed. There’s no Hoseok in your head right now. No unwanted thoughts in your mind. It’s just you and Namjoon. How it always should have been.

A whimper falls between your lips and you feel Namjoon leaving hickey’s around your tits, covering them beautifully with his own little marks.

Your legs start to shake around him, and warmth starts spreading through you quickly. “Daddy— I- I think I’m gonna fucking come.”

Namjoon grunts, mouth around your nipple while he pulls off to speak. “Yeah baby? You wanna come?”

Yes.

No.

Not really.

Preferably you would like him to control your fucking orgasm, flip you around, start pounding into you until you can’t hold yourself together but this will have to do.

“Y-Yeah. I wanna come.”

“Come sweetheart.” It’s not long before you moan sweetly through an orgasm, Namjoon fucks you through it as promised and you feel like you are levitating, he maintains sinful eye contact. His thrust starts to become sloppy and you feel the instant he lets go.

“Inside daddy, inside.” With one final strong stroke, Namjoon comes deep inside you, his breathy moans feel hot against your ear.

There’s a few minutes of heavy breathing, settling into the couch below you. Namjoon’s breaths follow close behind yours, arm tucked below your breasts, he lays behind you.

“You were so wonderful my love, I’m sorry we don’t do that enough.” Namjoon breaks the silence, kissing the side of your head.

For the twentieth time that week, guilt falls heavy onto your chest. You didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve this.

“No, don’t apologize Joonie. It’s my fault, really. I’ve just been… out of it. But I feel much better. All thanks to you. Thank you, thank you for everything you do for me and our home.” You start getting emotional, but you don't let your tone waver. You didn’t want him to know.

“You know I’d do it all for you, my love” He whispers into your hair, kissing along the soft skin behind your neck. “I can’t wait to marry you baby.”

There it is again, guilt.

“I know, I know. Me either.”

“I love you.” He doesn't hesitate to remind you sweetly.

It hurts to say it with all that is going through your mind, but you force a reply anyway. “I love you too.”

…

Sleep comes over you quickly that night.

Finally, you had fucked your sweet and loving fiancé and for once, your dreams don’t start off with you fucking yourself into an orgasm.

In fact, you don’t dream, at least you don't recall.

Hoseok immediately knows something is different when he arrives. He doesn’t smell arousal in the air, no this time he can tell you’ve been fucked. He can smell the come leftover deep inside your walls. He’s impressed to say the least.

He watches your chest rise and fall, a small pout framing on your lips. You sleep beautifully, he thinks you will look even better after he’s done with you for today.

With careful steps, he makes his way to the end of your bed, you jerk your arm so suddenly in your sleep and he holds back a laugh. He’s quiet when he sits besides your sleeping head, gentle fingers run through your hair.

“Mm.” You hum sweetly in your sleep, molding against his touch, thinking it was your husband-to-be playing with your hair like he normally does.

Before you hear him say, “someone had a good night. Isn’t that right kitten?”

Your eyes widen, nearly jumping out of bed, but Hoseok’s hands stop you from moving. “It’s just me baby.”

“H-How?” Your voice is raspy with sleep. “You were supposed to be gone.”

Hoseok smiles wide, hand still caressing the back of your head. “Did you really think that would happen, kitten?”

“Yes.”

“You let him fuck you.” He says like he knows for sure it's a fact. He doesn’t look too happy about it and your deafening silence answers his unspoken question. He pats your cheek. “Naughty kitty.”

You gulp, his pretty hand wrapping around your throat as he asks the next question. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” It’s not a lie and he knows it too.

“Yeah? He fuck you better than me?” You gulp again.

“Yes.” No.

“Why do you lie to me, kitten?” His eyes flash red (they don’t), but the look he gives you is enough to warn you. Things are about to get serious so fast. “I know everything.”

You know that saying people say about fucking around and finding out. You were about to fuck around and find out real fucking fast that Hoseok doesn’t play with his toy.

“Then what the fuck are you going to do about it, huh?” The only warning you get is Hoseok’s smile and then he’s fisting your hair tightly. Jawline clenched, watching as his eyes hood and darken.

“Fuck yourself open, you slut.” He drops the grip on your hair and stands, serious look on his face, he’s not fucking around at all tonight. His hands are quick, tugging his belt off. “Make it quick.”

When he sees you still haven’t moved, a warning comes to you by a strong fistful of hair, shoving you so closely against his face. His breath hits yours, but your lips don’t touch, even though they are so fucking close. You’re tempted to steal a kiss from those soft looking lips, but you’ve acted up enough. “I said, fuck yourself open.”

He drops his grip, letting your head fall into the mattress. Hoseok’s voice is strong and demanding so you stop fucking around and pull the sheets off your body. His eyes fall on your breasts, they are covered in hickey’s freshly made by Namjoon and he tries not to let that affect him. But damn him, he wishes it was him instead. He knows you would never sleep unsatisfied. He would always make sure you slept fucked and sated. Even if that meant, falling asleep on his cock.

There’s a slight burn when your finger finds its way to your pussy. Namjoon did a number on you, but it makes it easier to fuck yourself open. His come still settling deep inside you.

Hoseok has his shirt off now and he tugs his briefs and pants down all at once, his cock springs out, looking delicious as ever. You hear a dark chuckle behind you. “Uh-uh, wrong hole kitty, I’m fucking that ass tonight.”

You whimper when his hand comes to stop your movements.

“I’m not fucking that dirty hole. Turn around. I wanna see you from behind.” He’s not putting it up for question. You push yourself up on your knees and fall back against the bed, lifting your ass towards his direction.

He curses behind you and smacks your ass. Leaving a red hand mark behind, it almost is as pretty as your face. “Fuck kitten, you really are pretty all around. Fuck that hole open for me.”

You feel spit hit your hole and your index finger rubs his saliva around your rim. Your chest is heavy, this time for different reasons, you are completely breathless.

You can’t see Hoseok, but you hear as he opens the drawer beside your bed, it’s where you kept all your toys and lube. You are a finger-deep inside your ass when you hear the lube cap open, Hoseok is kind enough to warm the lube a bit between his fingers before he rubs against your rim and finger. He lets a bit of the lube dribble down your ass cheeks. Hoseok likes it a bit messy and wet. He clicks it close and tosses it besides you.

“My perfect submissive slut.” He whispers, hands settling on your ass as you finger yourself open with two fingers now, the burn hurts but it feels so damn good. Namjoon has never fucked your ass, but it has always been one of your sexual desires. Nothing could ever compare to an orgasm through anal and Hoseok has taught you a lot about that.

Another glob of spit hits your rim and you feel him squeeze a finger in. The burn of three fingers tear through you, moaning into the sheets. “Mm, fuck.”

He grins watching you hold back moans, biting your lips hard.

“Maybe I should punish you tonight.” He suggests, still fucking his finger in your ass alongside your own. “If you come like this I’ll let you suck my dick if I’m still feeling nice.”

You complain, turning around to face him, back still arched. “No… please, please Hoseok. F-Fuck me. Fuck my ass.”

“No.” He’s cold like usual and you know he won’t budge so it's no use.

“But I-I’ve been waiting patiently. I thought all day about you.” It almost sounds like a purr and Hoseok loves it, spanking the fat in your hips this time with an unoccupied hand. His finger is still deep inside your ass and doesn’t let down.

“Yeah? Tell me about that.” He starts to jerk himself off in the process, the leftover lube in his fingers makes the slide easier, his tongue wets his lips while he maintains eye contact.

Your cheeks are burning but you continue, “I thought about your huge cock splitting me open. Forcing me to take you e-even when I can’t anymore. I thought about you spitting into my messy hole like you always do. I thought about you fucking me open against the door. Even the kitchen counter. All day, I’ve missed you all day.”

This seems to satisfy him enough so he plays nice. “Turn over. On your back. Show me those tits.”

He pulls his finger out slowly and you miss it immediately but you listen, your own fingers slide out as you turn around for him. His knees hit the bed pulling your thighs apart as he falls between them, his arm falling beside your head. He’s still fisting his hard length, watching your tits rise and fall as you breathe.

His tongue comes out and licks around your breasts purposely avoiding your nipple. “You let him mark you.”

“He’s my husband-to-be.” You answer, holding back a moan when he sucks on your skin, gentle enough not to make any marks. “Of course, I did.”

“Mm.” He hums into your skin, it vibrates and your pussy responds to this, leaking arousal into the sheets. “What else did you let him do, kitten?”

“He fucked me.” You whisper, practically vibrating below him.

“Oh I know that. I smell it.” He looks like he wants to laugh, but instead continues sucking around your other breast, giving both tits the attention they deserve.

“Squeeze them together.” He orders and you listen quickly. His tongue slides and sucks between them, still avoiding your nipples and it drives you insane. You want to feel him.

“Please.” Your voice is weak.

“Please what?” He asks, looking up dumbfounded, but he knows exactly what you want. He’s making you work for it. “Tell me kitten. What do you want?”

“Y-Your mouth.” You struggle.

“Where?” He breathes out, right on top of your nipple, tongue nearly sliding against it.

“R-Right there.” Your eyes never move.

You watch as he sticks his long, pink tongue out and very slowly licks your already hardened nipple.

“Here?” He asks between his own breaths and you moan softly, sounding sweet against his ears.

“Yes.” You whisper-moan.

He drops his cock, letting it hit your cunt while he starts to suck on your nipples like they deserve. There’s nothing sweet and gentle about this. It’s like he wants to replace Namjoon’s love bites and leave you with his own.

He switches off onto the previous breast and his hand comes to play with your other breast while he attends to the new one. He licks and sucks harshly, bruising your tender skin. You writhe against him, pussy brushing along his cock, but his hand comes to halt your actions quickly with a strong grip on your hip.

“Be good, slut.” Is all he says before he continues marking your breasts and you can’t do a single thing, but moan and whine underneath him, feeling empty. The memory of Namjoon is long forgotten.

Once Hoseok is satisfied with his work. He grins and pulls away. He grabs the bottle of lube beside you and lathers his cock in it. “Should I fuck you now?”

You are quick to nod and you feel bubbly.

Finally.

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?” He tempts and teases, his lubed fingers touch your chin and you open with ease, taking all three fingers he offers you inside your mouth. You suck hard and watch him bite his lip.

You moan around his fingers, his other hand gripping his slicken cock and you feel it catch around your rim.

“Beg for it, slut.” He slides his fingers out, saliva drips down your chin, you probably look a mess but you don't even care anymore. The sinful desire and lust is ten times worse than any other feeling.

“Please, Hoseok. Please.” You beg. “I’d do anything. Anything.”

He sees red for two seconds and then he says. “Then keep your legs open for me. Try to stay awake. Don’t disappoint me this time, kitten.”

There’s no warning for when he plunges his hard length inside your slicked rim. You know he won’t be going anywhere near your pussy, keeping his promise. You didn’t deserve it. You let someone else use your hole and now he’s punishing you.

“Oh. My. God.” You moan, it fucking burns, but soon his thrusts turn into pleasure and his cock brushes your sweet spot. It’s like he’s known you all your life, knowing the exact way to tear you apart, piece by piece.

“Ghost actually, not God, but I’ve met him. He’s not the sweet and forgiving man everyone mentions he is.” Hoseok says this all while buried deep between your ass cheeks and you would actually laugh about this if the situation was different, but instead you moan and clench around him feeling his balls slap faster against your ass. “That’s it kitten, lose your fucking mind.”

And that is exactly what you do.

Hoseok continues ramming his hips into yours for a few minutes, you aren’t speaking clearly anymore so he doesn’t understand a word you tell him, all he knows is that you must be feeling fucking ecstasy by the way you roll your eyes and yell moans.

His hands grip your hips and he comes to a stop. “Face down. Ass up. I wanna see that ass while I pound it from behind.”

You don’t reply to him, but you seem to understand. With weak movements, you move and nearly fall face first into the bed, weak limbs. You don’t even have the strength to hold yourself together anymore. Hoseok is kind enough to help though, he places a pillow below your hips, just high enough so he can slide right back inside your tight ass.

He hears your muffled moans against your bedsheets, watching you weakly grip them.

“Such a nice ass. It’s a shame really.” Your ass bounces while he mounts you from behind, it’s fast but precise, hitting your walls just right at every harsh thrust.

“W-What is?” He barely hears you reply.

“That this ass isn’t played with enough and soon I’ll just be a fidget of your imagination. You’ll forget I ever existed and you’ll never, ever receive the sexual satifisation you deserve. But maybe, one day, when it’s your turn to go, you’ll meet me in the after-life and I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed this sweet ass.” The ghost’s voice almost sounds sad and you freeze. You don’t want this to end. No.

“T-Then don’t stop fucking me. Keep me here forever.” You whisper frantically, breath hot and heavy.

“Oh trust me baby, I would if I could. For now, I won’t stop. Stay awake, kitten.” You don’t even notice you are falling unconscious, the stretch and burn of his cock is exhausting and your ass takes him greedily, but his words wake you.

He grips the side of your hips, pressing his thumbs into your back as he sets a faster pace. Slamming and ramming his dick deep within you. The moans and gasps that slip from your mouth sound so pretty, God he really wishes it would never fucking end, but he feels you slipping between his hands already.

What the fuck can he do?

Hoseok is close himself, how could he not be? He’s been practically edging himself for hours and now that he has such a juicy ass at hand, with the most perfect woman he has ever seen, he could practically come inside your velvet walls right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse and moan below him, you tremple and shake, the knot inside your stomach is barely holding up. “‘M so close.”

He nods, forgets you can’t see him. He harshly tugs you around, still quite limp and weak between his arms. “Wanna see that face when you come on my cock.”

He plunges back inside, lips close to yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. And then you realize, he hasn’t kissed you. This entire time. He’s fucked you religiuosly for weeks on end and you don’t even know what those heart-shaped lips taste like against yours. Would they be as sweet as they look? Would he kiss you gently or would he be harsh and rough like the way he fucks? You wonder about it all at once and it makes you sad for a moment. You want a kiss. Why wouldn’t he kiss you?

“Kiss me.” You breathe out, he’s grunting above your mouth still fucking you nice and deep. You are beyond positive you won’t be able to move your ass tomorrow but it’s worth it, it’s always worth it.

He looks up and then looks back down, concentrating on his thrust, you moan but hold your ground.

“Please. Kiss me.” You whisper, gasping when you feel the knot start to come undone. He knows you’re about to let go and this only drives him to bottom out faster and quicker. Skin smacking quickly against skin. Your asshole has been shaped and molded just for him. You’re loving every second of it, but he still hasn’t kissed you.

Why?

Your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, he breathes heavy and hot against your ear now. It’s messy, sweaty and his touch is usually rough, but it feels awfully gentle now. He’s still rough inside your soft walls, but something’s changed.

“Hoseok.” You breathe, you’re so sad.

He hums against your neck, avoiding your eyes.

“Kiss me.” You plead again, he kissed your neck so softly, balls smacking harder and faster against your ass. “No, my lips.”

“Goodnight, kitten.” He whispers sounding sad into your ear before he lifts his face from your neck and those heart-shaped lips touch your softly, it’s almost sweet. You come undone as soon as you feel the touch of his magical lips and you swear you feel him come deep inside you.

It all disappears though.

“Honey?” This time it's Namjoon, hand already around your waist. “You okay? Was it another nightmare?”

A tear falls down your face and Namjoon awes, bringing you into his warm embrace. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

Why are you crying?

And where is Hoseok?

“I am too.” You simply say, crying harshly into his shoulder.

Hoseok watches the scene unfold from afar. He wishes you could feel the ache you’ve left him behind too and there isn’t a damn thing he could do but wait.

“See you in the after-life kitten. There I’ll spoil you with all the kisses you deserve.”

You don’t hear him, but he knows he means well. Hoseok walks away permanently this time, he’s lost the feeling of his heart long ago, but he feels heavy-hearted and continues on his way to his next victim.

Until next time.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #hoseok x y/n #hoseok scenarios #hoseok fic #hoseok angst #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #bts angst

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xerotiny99 · 2 months

Text

Trouble in Paradise // Our Precious #3

Trouble in Paradise (Our precious series 3)

M.list ┃ Previous ┃ Next

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: smut, dom!yunho, sub!reader, bits of food play (a little disgusting if you aren't into that kinda thing), frottage (non-penetrative sex), cunnilingus (oral sex), nipple/breast simulation, dirty talk & degradation (ofc, because Yunho's really got a foul mouth on him, and we like it <I need therapy>).

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by mentioned tags. Please, if you're really grossed out by "transferring" food from one's mouth to another's, then do not proceed. (Here, it's just strawberries, tho. So totally upto you 💀)

Gist: after the deliberate game night, you're left to contemplate about Jongho's and his flatmates' proposition of being their fucktoy. If that wasn't enough of an issue for you, a phone call from your parents leaves you in a mess. And the only way to relax during your hard times is something you know Yunho does all too well.

Word Count: 12,686

"So, have you thought about it?"

You bite your lip, obviously contemplating every word of his.

"You know, Jongho just asked me about it a couple of days ago." you stifle a groan and shake your head, "agreed you all are very eager to have me on board, but I'm going to need some time to think, right?"

You take a deep breath, listening to his deep voice murmuring, "and we don't mind how long you take to give us your ultimatum. Of course, I am aware of the kind of plight you're put through. So, don't sweat it and don't make a decision you would end up regretting, okay?"

The grin on your face widens when you let his words sink in; well, he was right. But there was something which was quite tedious to figure out.

"Can I ask you something, Yunho?"

Hearing him lowly hum against your ear, you resist every urge to stuff your hand in between your legs; you roll over your stomach and grab a pillow to hold it under your chest. Your lethargic body relaxes almost immediately when you feel the soft coziness of the pillow and silk sheets draped over your bed. The mattress sinks once again when you move, shifting on your back to stare at the bland ceiling before pushing your phone closer to your ear.

Your heart thumped in your chest, words itching to be said, somehow balancing off the tip of your tongue yet having no grit to let them out. This question, the supposed doubt you had in your mind was troubling you ever since Jongho dropped you off at your dorms the next day of your game night. It was a fiddling question, not too serious or brooding, yet you had your conscience tied in a knot over it. The after-bearing sentiments of your proposed 'bargain' had been irking you to your ultimate limits.

What if, keeping a sex exclusive relationship with the people you barely know, turns out to be the worst decision of your life?

Or, what if your feelings come into play with this superficial relationship?

It may seem crazy, but spending only a week with Yunho had already made you sublime; you could only dream of experiencing the better half of a relationship because Yunho was certainly the boyfriend material, the exact kind you had been craving for years. As truth would have it, and as it would sting your morales, you had couple of exes who were shitty and contemptibly obnoxious. So, now that you had a man who was ticking off every single wish on your list, the profuse quandaries were messy.

"Princess, did you fall asleep?" he teases you through the phone, his tone making you envisage him smirking.

You might as well—after a hectic day of chemistry lectures coming into a play for your lethargy and hebetude, you certainly didn't mind letting off some steam before falling sleep.

"No, I'm here. I'm just..." you trail off, "...I'm thinking of ways to voice my thoughts."

"Have I ever judged you? Even though for the past week you've told me some really disturbing shit," he laughs, and you retaliate, "and don't act as if you didn't enjoy as much as I did narrating it to you."

"I did. I did," his laughter wrings out to a sigh, "don't think too much, okay? Be openly honest with me, ask me what you want to."

"I don't want to ruin your grocery store trip," you let out a soft titter and could picture him rolling his eyes, "understandable, because grocery shopping is all rainbows and unicorns anyway."

"If you had me there with you, it would've been fun," you mumble, turning on your side to stare the dingy wall of your dorm room.

"If that was the case, we'd probably not even make it to the store." He adds, "and we do not want to piss Seonghwa off. He's not pretty when he gets mad."

You drawl on your lower lip and squeeze your thighs together, "it's hard to believe, but okay."

"Ask, Angel." His stern and commanding tone makes your heart palpitate faster in your chest, fluttering sparks in your pussy as you prepare yourself to question him, "okay, it's a simple question, so...why me?"

"Why you, as in why we asked you to be our fucktoy?" he muses and you groan softly yet again, rolling back on your stomach to hold the pillow tighter under your chest.

"Yes. Why me? Why not someone else—maybe Wooyoung's friend, or San's or you know, Mingi's even." You grit your teeth, nervously chomping on your cheek to rid your anxiety.

Yunho chuckles, heartily, very proudly so because he wasn't sure if he had heard you right or not. "Do you think those losers have any girlfriends, Angel?"

"Why not?" you let a smile fleet on your lips.

"Because Wooyoung is a manwhore, he's slept with entire female population in his department and if it isn't obvious, I'm not interested in someone who could be a prospect carrier for herpes," he titters still, "I'm not slut-shaming him, but—ah well fuck it! I am slut-shaming him. Not my fault, he is a pathetic excuse for a human because hit and run is his specialty. Now, you tell me why any of his casualties would agree to our demands, let alone would want to sleep with us?"

You shake your head, trapping your lower lip with your teeth. "I get it. So, am I supposed to feel special?"

"Hmm, I'd rather consider myself lucky to have a cum-slut like you." you squeeze your thighs again, remembering the two nights you had spent with him. "Hold on a moment, let me park my car first."

You hum, restless and exhausted; your day hadn't been decorous since the morning, and considering you had two consecutive chemistry sessions today, you were definitely drained of your frisky energy. Yet, there's something about Yunho and talking to him while he drives around the town to get to the grocery store; at this point you questioned your motives and abilities—why were you getting turned on by a man driving his car to the store?

Maybe because it was very much attractive in your mind. Him, driving a hatchback (probably, you hadn't seen what car he drives), wearing a dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black shades on his eyes, the dainty rattling bracelets he usually adorns around his wrist—to conclude, the picture you were painting in your mind was the cause of your panties getting drenched.

Silence engulfs you, not necessarily, you could catch up on the soft shuffling sounds his clothes, or even his delicate grunts as he puts the car in park and gets out, slamming the door behind him. Although, there's a momentary hush when his phone gets disconnected from the car Bluetooth; he holds his phone close to his ear, while he straightens out a stray crease falling on his shirt near his waist.

"Angel?" he calls out, breaking your trance of staring at your study desk adjoining your bed, "you're still on line. Are you...?"

"I'm here, I did not fall asleep, though I think I might because of the very tiring day I've had." You pout, shifting on your bed to rest against the headboard, while you bring your legs to your chest.

Yunho chuckles, "ah my dear princess, I am coming over after I'm done with this tedious task. You're not gonna get much sleep then. I'd suggest you take a nap till I get done here."

"Oh." you bite your lips, glancing down at your chest. "Wake me up when you get here, and ah—p-s, I'm not wearing anything under my dress."

You hear him let out a breathy chortle, more like a scoff which taunts you into slipping your free hand to the hem of your silk dress. Coming back from the university, you were too exhausted to care about your outfit. You simply put on a coral shaded silk babydoll which barely covered your ass, with spaghetti straps and called it a day—of course, by also abandoning the underwear. So, you were practically naked under the flimsy silk dress, your breasts loose and hanging, your nipples taut from the friction and they really did poke through the material of your dress. Both of you are quiet for a minute, but then you're also deeply submerged in the thoughts of him coming to your dorm room and fucking you. An annoying chime of bell dings in the background, followed by a soft sound of mechanical doors sliding open—that brings you down to earth, and so does his grumbling voice.

"An open invitation for me to wreck you in any way I want?" he muses, tittering as he moves past the doors and grabs himself a cart. "Princess, you better know what you're getting yourself into. I won't be gentle."

His warning only makes you wetter, your hand slithering past the hem of your dress to trace your fingers on your wet and slick folds. Biting back a whimper when the warmth of your fingers melts around your skin, you take a deep breath and throw your head behind. You knew your breathing would sound wispy to him if you tried to speak but you couldn't control yourself from not uttering a word.

"Yun—you can do—ahh..." you stutter, pressing your fingers against your mound, just above your clit, "I'll be waiting."

"Is my princess touching herself to the thought of me fucking her raw again?" he slurs his words, merely in a whisper considering he was in public. You were deaf to the somber tunes playing in the mart, you were too busy controlling your raspy breath because your desires were flaming you out.

"Yes..."

Yunho lets out a laugh and shakes his head, muttering under his breath then, "can't wait to taste that tight little cunt of yours. Rest well, princess."

He's the one to hang up on you; rather than throwing an imaginary fit, your mind is filled with the images of his cock straining in his pants as he meanders through the aisles of the supermarket. You might be too over in your head, but the exhaustion was slowly crawling up your spine. In no time you find yourself slipping against the headboard and slumping yourself properly in the bed. And in the few passing minutes, your eyes close and you're drifting away into your dreamland.

Dreamland. An alternate universe where you were living your wildest fantasies—maybe a little too realistically. The resonating voice of Yunho and his words were dwelling on your mind. Your imagination was coming to life, nonetheless in your dream. Soon, you're breathing out whimpers of desperation, squeezing your thighs together and murmuring your moans; you never thought you'd be having wet dreams, but you weren't fazed by the unpredictability. The tingling sensation in your pussy only grows when you envision Yunho with his head buried in between your legs, licking and lapping his tongue in your slit, over and over again.

A harsh tug at your lungs makes you breathe deeply, eyes squinting to the imaginary pleasure you were experiencing—with your brows scrunched together, you knew you were pooling in your lingerie. Though, in your dreams, Yunho doesn't stop, and it feels too real to not react to it; however, in the dark corner of your mind, you feel another presence.

Jongho.

The grinning man stands behind Yunho, arms folded over his chest, lips quivering with his eyes fixated on Yunho. Him watching Yunho eat you out was a turn on you didn't think you'd have. But there he was, with his twinkling gaze not once wavering off of you two. Why was it so hot? Why...? Out of the blue, a knot tied itself in your stomach and your guts loosen; the urge to just let go crosses your hazy mind but you try to hold it in. Until it gets too hard to bear and you're jerked out of your sleep.

You don't know how long it has been but when your eyes crack open, you're in direct contact with your open window and furling curtains. The space holds a beguiling view of the evening merging with the night, dark at the seams and bright in the middle. Purple and orange hues mixing together to a crisp shade of the fore-night; you're immersed in admiring the sky, too much to realize you had been holding yourself in. Though when the dire need starts tickling your stomach again, you rush out of your bed and head to the bathroom to relieve yourself.

Once your conscious clears out, you notice several things which have been cluttering your mind. One, you had a wet dream about Yunho and Jongho, two people you never thought you'd ever dream of. Two, as you're staring at your reflection in the mirror, you discern a wet patch on your dress, right near your lap; the dress must've been wedged in between your thighs when you were having that sensual dream. Three, you are really horny. Really really horny. Which sort of reminds you of yours and Yunho's conversation before you dozed off to sleep.

Biting your lip, you get out of the bathroom and dump yourself on the edge of the bed. Your eyes glance over at your desk to read the time on your alarm clock. 5:56 pm, it read, almost 6:00 pm you thought and heaved out a sigh. You run a hand through your hair and stroke out the tangles with your fingers. Searching for your phone, you find it near your pillow and grab it in a haste. When you watch the screen blare with the notifications, your breath hitches in your throat and then delves deeper down in your stomach.

Ten missed calls from your mom.

"Fuck," you curse under your breath and dial her number.

The ring resonates in your ear, infuriating and anxiety striking; yet you listen to it till it echoes out into the obnoxious droid voice telling you the 'number you've dialed is unavailable. Please try again'. You huff and call again but are met with the same outcome as before and it continues on for the next ten attempts you make to call her. Giving up at what you could remember as your twelfth try, you throw your phone aside and let the anxiety eat you out. How ironic was that, in your dreams it was Yunho, and in reality, it's your own mom.

You were certainly restless, weaving all these uncertain notions about your mom—your father too, but since you and your dad didn't really share much of an intimate bond, you weren't surprised to receive no calls from him. Soon, the anxiety reaches your gut, you're quivering with fear and second thoughts; what if it had been an emergency? What if your mom had something really important to say to you? What if you—what if you were too late to call her back? Everything was eventually gone in the blink of an eye.

Knock! Knock!

Two knocks sound on your door, and you flinch; even though you knew who was at your door, you couldn't shake off your perturbation regarding your family. It was true, you had stood up for yourself when your parents were against you pursuing your higher education in a different state but now all those moments were disappearing into a heap of worries. Did you even make the right decision of coming here? Given, you had scholarship and exempted tuition fee, was your decision to come here really ethical from all other perspectives?

Troubled, you drag your feet to answer the door. A trifling gasp is caught in your throat when instantly you're pushed against the door by someone's burly arms, closing the door in process. You were quite used to Yunho's scent, knowing he always carried around a delicate whiff of amber and peonies. The addicting scent rakes your senses to its fullest when his lips capture yours in a searing kiss. His lips move with yours, one arm around your waist tightly wound to keep you in place while his other hand cups a side of your face. Delighted, but mostly razed by his touches, a frail smile sculpts your lips, and you slide your arms all over his back to hold onto his shoulders.

The worries plaguing your mind soon melt away into the heat of your kiss; you're leaning in for more, diving headfirst into this beautiful mess when you know he's only going to tease you and not give in so easily. You're left whining when he bites down on your lower lip and tugs on it. Watching your lips wobble with a smirk on his plump ones, he chuckles softly and shakes his head. He grabs your jaw and pushes his fingers deep into your cheek for your mouth to open wide.

"Hey, Angel," one of his eyebrow twitches on his forehead when he calls out your name with a smirk. "You asked why you, right? I'll tell you why..."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and sucks at a random spot on the juncture between your jaw and head. Warm tongue rubs your skin, before his teeth sink in and his lips suckle. You groan at the sensation, your mind numbing to any anxiety you felt before. His hand drops from your waist skims over the hem of your babydoll before diving under to trace it along your inner thigh; his fingertips graze against your wet folds before rubbing you down gently.

You prevent yourself from moaning out loud when his finger moves in and out of your slit at a slow pace. Holding your jaw tightly, he nudges your head back into the door.

"This—this fucking thing you have going," he mumbles against your neck, "I don't care about others and why they want you, but for me it's this—the way you're attuned with my body. And also, how fucking addicting you are to me."

You swallow thickly and throw your head further back against the door, banging yourself but you weren't bothered in the least. Hearing soft crinkles of a polythene bag, you peek at him through your half-lidded eyes; lustful gaze rummages around till your vision fills with the sight of him remaining buried in your neck, sucking deep purple bruises on your skin. The carnal darkness in your room is scattered when the lurid rays of moon wash over your invader. You notice him wearing a long coat over his outfit, you carefully listen to every crinkle of his dainty silver bracelets, and you're definitely lost in the appreciation of his teeth creating blotches on your skin.

"This thing started with us," he adds, a little breathless, "as much as I am willing to share you with my piddling flatmates, I can't pretend to be I'm okay with our arrangement. I'll be jealous, I'll be possessive. At certain times you might even see a side of me you probably won't find too adorable."

"I like it when you get jealous, though," you slur your words, smirking at him diligently. "I'm not sure what it is, but you rather have what belongs to you in your own ruthless ways."

Yunho coughs out a tiny chortle before stepping back and shaking his head; you stumble on your weak feet, watching him shrug off his long coat before flinging it over on the seat of the chair in front of your desk. Sighing dejected, as the anxiety once again starts bubbling under your skin, you make yourself comfortable on the edge of your bed. You kept your eyes on him as he loosens first few buttons of his pastel blue shirt—his bracelets keep chiming in time to time, with every movement of his hands. Just as you pictured him to be dressed; he wore a blue dress shirt adorning thin vertical white stripes and paired it with black trousers and boots. The faded blue hair of his was complementing the look, alongside the bits of silver jewelry he wore. He takes a step close to you and leans over to get to your face level; he slips a polythene bag in your lap and when you inspect into it, there are two plastic containers of peaches and strawberries. Did he get those for you? How thoughtful. He clears his throat, lips ghosting over yours as his arms plant themselves on either side of your thighs, trapping you against the bed this time.

"The first time I saw you at the bookstore, all lost and bemused, like a deer in headlights—I wanted to ruin your innocence so fucking badly," he murmurs, his hot breath fanning your cheeks, "if only had you taken a peek in my head that day. It's a bit exhilarating, isn't it? —" he nudges you with a subtle nod of his head, his hands tracing along the length of your arms, "—how you had to be Jongho's friend. How you were dragged into this mess."

For the purpose of your sanity, your fingertips grasp onto the plastic containers, tightly so because the proximity between your faces kept on dithering to nothing. Running his hands back and forth along your arms, he trails one up to hold you in place by your neck; you gasp the sensation of his fingers tightening around your throat, sinking into your skin, suffocating you.

He presses his lips against yours in a mere touch to whisper, "maybe it's some sort of fate's blueprint or whatever. I don't really care what it is..." he hums out low and drags his words in a gentle mumble, "but I know there's a spark between us, between our bodies to be so profoundly in sync with each other."

Stifling a moan, you mutter against his lips, "are you done with this banal folly? If you are, then just shut up and fuck me."

He raises an eyebrow at you, a small smirk then fleeting on his lips. "Your wish is my command, princess."

"What...?"

You muse to yourself when he pulls away and takes a step back, he eyes you with a lustful twinkle in his eye and strides towards to the full length mirror you had accommodated beside your study desk for the time being. Your dorm wasn't much, to be honest. It was spacious, yes; a bed to a side, a study desk adjacent to it and other trivial things you had lying around, including a closet to the right side of the door, a mini fridge situated next to it, and to the left side of the door was the bathroom. Single room dormitories were expensive compared to the shared ones, but you didn't like the idea of having a roommate or two even.

"Was this the same mirror you used to send me that picture?" he questions, observing it closely.

"Yeah, what about it?" you place the plastic bag to your side and bite your lip, considering.

"Hmm," he purrs softly and picks the mirror up to place it right in front of you. "Let's set it here, shall we."

"What's on your mind, Yunho?" you whine softly, turning it into a chuckle when he prepares to get down on his knees before you. "Really...?"

As exasperated as your voice is, you can't hide your anticipation of your body when he slides himself closer to you. His hands on your thighs, sear a burn on your skin when he grips your flesh. Thumbs rub circles, till they're pressing down and sinking in; he pushes your legs apart, and you let him do as he pleases. One of his hands is already skimming across your thigh to the hem of your dress, pushing it up till it rolls around your chest. He holds it there, exposing your glistening cunt for his eyes to feast on.

"I said I'd be pining to taste you," he mutters in a breath, and gazes up at you, "so here I am. Unlike others, I deliver what I say, princess. And I've been craving a taste of you for quite a while now—since the day I saw you. But with the mirror in front, you can see it for yourself, the kind of mewling mess you become for my tongue."

He shrugs and pouts, tightening his hand which rested on your thigh, while he prompts you with a nod of his head to hold your dress up. You do as said, letting your trembling fingers clip on the hem of your dress to hold it up. Perusing your glistening cunt with his lust-filled eyes, his lips curl into a sly smirk. He slots himself closer to you, tracing his delicate lips down your abdomen, fluttering kisses which tickle your spine and your spark your cunt. Watching his reflection in the mirror was already fucking you up; but watching his reflection when his head is buried deep in between your legs was certainly savage.

"And what are those fruits for? You were going to treat yourself, weren't you?" you mumble softly under your breath.

Dropping one hand to stroke his hair away from his forehead, you tangle your fingers in his luscious locks while trying to clasp your lower lip to bite back on any possible moans you might voice. His kisses trace up your stomach, up till he's giving your skin short kitten licks under your breasts. Your fingers pinch his hair, other hand struggling to hold your dress up—his thumbs help you soothe by rubbing circles on your thighs, engulfing you in a trance of comfort and ease.

"Of course, I'm treating myself," he mumbles under his breath, skimming his wet tongue down your abdomen to your stomach again. "Strawberries just taste better, you know."

Scoffing out in bewilderment, he presses a deep kiss just over your belly button and drags his lips slowly down, purposely teasing and nicking his teeth at your skin. You tilt your head back, your lips carved in a sleazy smile when the sensation of his soft lips flutter further down; your fingers tighten their hold on his faded blue locks, while other let's go of your dress. The silky material of your babydoll slips over his head, but he does not seem bothered as he continues littering soft kisses down your belly button.

And then, a moan hitches in your throat, anticipating. You're urged to squeeze your thighs together; only because his hot breaths were caressing your mound. His thumbs carried on rubbing circles in your flesh, soothing you bit by bit. In a way, his placid ministrations were helping you to keep your legs spread from him.

"Hmm, fuck," you gasp, voiceless, under your breath, screwing your eyes shut to the feeling of his soft lips pressing insanely close against your clit.

But you're left high when he pulls back, angling his head up to look at you; he wasn't fond of your dress slipping down your chest and waist, he didn't like it when your skin was covered. If you had the body to flaunt it, then why would you or anyone else want it covered? That was his logic, according to what you could stipulate from the week you had spent with him. Phrases and words like that made you an absolute puddle for him, you'd melt into a cold and sybaritic plash for him—all because you knew he would worship your body like the goddess you are, whenever he had the chance to. He has a chance now; he wasn't going to let it slip.

"You really like to tease me, don't you?" you squeak, listening to some shuffles of his clothes while your eyes peel open. "Now, what?"

"Getting rid of your lingerie," he grunts, huffing out a stubborn breath while lifting your babydoll over your head. Groping a handful of your tits, he buries his face in the valley of your chest and showers your skin with a few kisses. "I'd rather prefer you wearing nothing when you're around me. Can't get enough of this body, can't get enough..." he pauses, mulling over as his fingers dig into your fleshy tit, "...fuck, I'm all out of words to describe what this body means to me. Not just a fucktoy, no. Not at all. This body...hmm, this body should be displayed in a museum for being so fucking perfect. You're perfect for me, princess. Don't think otherwise, or else..."

Or else? You wondered. Not as much as exalting yourself in the way he was slurring his words, rambling even to get his point across. His teeth scratch your skin, his fingers now rolling your taut nipple; his other hand has been on your thigh all along, stroking circles to keep you levelheaded. You whimper at the sensation of his calloused hand kneading and groping one of your tits, while the other wasn't getting the attention it deserved. Turning your whimper into a whine, you look down at him, surprised to find him staring at you with the loudest smirk he could possibly scour.

"Aww, is my princess needy?" he tugs his lower lip out, brows scrunching down at the corners to feign his discretion. "My needy princess will get everything," he mutters against your skin, and leaves behind open mouth kisses when he gets to your other tit. "Hmmfyou—pfneeded—fthis?"

It drives you crazy how he was being muffled by your tit in his mouth; you glance down, biting your lip to avoid yourself from getting too aroused by the sight beneath. Oh lord, were you wrong. His lips had encased themselves around your flesh, tongue lapping and licking at your hardened peck; though, you could not resist being tempted by his doe eyes staring up at you with such nativity in them. His other hand squeezes your other tit, keeps it going till you're blabbering his name in wispy voice.

"Yunho...please," you shudder to the stimulation of your chest.

He hums around your tit, teeth slowly sinking in and biting lightly, his tongue was at it too, slicking it in his spit and unprecedented licks. Muttering a string of incoherent curses to yourself, you let your hand slip from his hair to the back of his neck, gripping tight. His moan gets muffled around your tit, sending spine-tingling vibrations to your cunt. You needed him, now. There was no way you could handle him playing with your chest like this.

He pulls his mouth back, reverberating a 'pop' sound on purpose as he does. "When I first saw you at the bookstore, I imagined you tasted like strawberries or peaches. So..." he blindly reaches out for the plastic containers of fruit he brought with him, while his other remains on your tit, caressing and pinching. "...coming across these at the grocery store was a good trip to the memory lane. I was reminded and I thought why not?"

"Let me devour you, princess."

You don't know what it was, but it was enough to make you leak. And in that while, you couldn't figure out how he got one of the strawberries out of the box you had placed to the side on bed before, and already had it in his mouth. The leaves were off the strawberry, conveniently—as he bites on it, the faint crimson juices slop past his lips and further down on his chin. You wanted to lick him clean. Maybe it was a silent yet coherent thought beeping in your mind, and maybe he had just read your mind. He slithers his hand along your arm and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you down, he lets his lips collide with yours.

Sweet. The redolent taste of strawberries fills up your mouth, eventually, a few bits of it when he forces his tongue in your mouth. There you are, frenching him while he shoves down the broken and mushy pieces of strawberries down your throat. Now, both of your chins are sticky and stained from the juices, though for you, a stray drop trickles past and falls perfectly in between your tits.

A spark goes off in Yunho's mind when he feels the coldness of the drop dribbling over his hand which still played with your tit. You trace both of your hands to his shoulder and grip them tight, crinkling and creasing his shirt haphazardly—well, as if you cared. He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath in, while you're still breathless at how hard his tongue was shoving itself down your throat. A few pieces of strawberry are stuck in the gaps of your cheeks, and you swallow them down as you stare at him.

Picking out another strawberry, Yunho smirks slightly as he brings it to your mouth and prompts you to take a small bite out of it before he engulfs it whole. Again, the juices fill up his mouth, cumulative drops collecting themselves by the edge of his lips—but then don't spill, not until he buries his head back into your chest. A few drops roll down on your skin, his kisses soon turning into open mouth suckles. Pale stains of crimson trail with his mouth as he takes one of your tits in; it was the other one this time. His mouth wraps perfectly around your flesh, sucking and squeezing your tit with his lips and teeth. One of his hands snakes around your waist to rest on the small of your back, while the other cups a side of your face.

"This is awfully freaky," you mumble, dragging one of your hands to play with his hair falling on his nape. "But I like it freaky, you make it seem—ah," you gasp when you feel him give your nipple a gentle tug with his teeth, "—ah fuck, that feels good. So, fucking good..."

Your chest heaves up and down in his face, too bothered by him and his innocent eyes gazing up at you. The warmth of his mouth and the vague gelidity of the strawberry juices dissipates when he detaches himself from your chest; his smirk grows in his cheek, perusing the piece of art he had left behind on your chest. The sticky red strawberry pulp had adhered to your skin quite magnificently and he couldn't be prouder.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg," he winks, swallowing the remnants of fruit in his mouth. "I can get freakier."

Confidence in his eyes strikes you in the best way possible; you for sure know your cunt had drenched your bedsheets by now, all slick with the arousal his mouth was causing.

"Then get freakier, I need more from you."

In the erratic moment of time, he grabs another strawberry from the containers and props it right over your mound. The frigidity of the fruit was searing against your skin, that is only until he had fisted his hand around it and squeezed the life out of it—the pulp and juices trickled down, slotting itself perfectly in your folds and slit.

"Ah, fuck—you fucking bastard," you half-moan-half-chuckle, but it soon turns to an astonished gasp when his hot breath casts itself on your cunt before his wet tongue licks up your slit. "You—fuck—you fucking—you fucking freak!" you succumb to breathlessness and close your eyes tight; clutching his nape with both of your hands, you held onto him for your dear life.

He chortles against your slick folds and delves further down; the tip of his nose nudges with your clit at first, and then slides along your slit. How fucking good did that feel? You moan, your chest ripping itself apart when you do. It was unlike anything you had felt, especially considering pleasures received through oral stimulation. Yunho knew what he was doing, and he was doing it really well. His tongue licks up a stripe, lips sucking around your clit for a hot second before he drags them down to repeat the long and hard licks. You were squirming with a want, the oh-so sweet want of release.

Yunho's hands grip your inner thighs, his thumbs nudge and spread your cunt apart for the remaining pulp and juice of strawberry to roll down in between your folds. He leans in close and picks out the granules with his teeth, biting down softly as he does. It sends tremors under your skin, forces a saccade series of moans and groans out of you while your eyes squint tighter to let out tears. The pleasure was immeasurable, wooing you off into a faraway land of orgasm and joy.

You were delighted, so delighted to find your stomach knotting itself without having to be stimulated with penetration. He continues to lick and suck on your folds, gradually giving your clit some attention with his tongue while his hands groped your thighs and fingers dug in; they were leaving bruises tomorrow, but you were looking forward to it. Those handprints of his, they were going to be something you'd love to show off to your friends or someone.

"Fuck, Yunho. Your mouth—" you take a breath in through your mouth, "—it feels like I'm in paradise."

When your eyes open you see stars twinkling in the corner, your sight was full of them eventually—that is, as he carried on with his ruthless licks and flicks to your clit. The knot was intensifying, if anything, you really were on the verge of letting yourself go and watching you cum all over his face. Your face twitches and you're about...

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The high you once sought to, was now a deliberate low laying fruit; the knot disappears as the blaring sound of your phone's ringtone grows louder. You click your tongue, and blindly swat your hand on the bed next to you to find your phone. As you would recall, you did fling it somewhere when you went to answer the door. However, Yunho wasn't bothered by the deafening rings percolating in the room, he continues. A man on a mission. You mentally groan at that thought and sigh heavily when you find your phone in your hand. Checking the caller ID, you couldn't help but swipe the screen to answer the call.

Mom's calling you. She's calling you back. You needed answers, something to appease you about the ordeal where she felt the need to call you ten times.

Pressing the phone close to your ear and while gasping for air, you mumble, "he-hey mom."

"Oh, hey Angel—wait, did I get you at the wrong time?" you shake your head, trapping your moans in your mouth, "uh-huh, I was worried—I was worried about you and da—and dad. Giving me ten misse—ten missed—fuck."

All breath is knocked out of your lungs when you feel Yunho's tongue slither along your slit and his spit cover you up in its warmth; you're left to drawl on the remaining air in your lungs, specifically when he places his hand on your lower abdomen and forces you to lean behind into the mattress. Your back arches, your hips lift off the edge slightly for him to fix himself better between your legs. The angle your body now holds, gives him the perfect view of your hole. You squirm, wiggling your ass and bucking your hips into his face to get that much needed contact you had been craving for so long.

"Keep it hush, princess," he whispers, glaring up at you, "and watch your mouth when you're talking to your mother, hmm?"

You slightly glance down, hand trembling to hold the phone close to your ear—his face was breathtaking, glistening with your juices and the saccharine scent of the strawberry mixing in with your musk. The tip of his nose goes back to being buried in your slit, while his tongue rolls on your clit till it trails down to your hole.

Knowing where this was headed, you clutch the sheets under you and press your lips together. You so hoped your mom wasn't getting any ideas in her head about why your words were slurred or whimpered.

"Angie, I can call some other time," she murmurs from the other line, reminding you that you were still on call with her.

"Mom, just—just tell me—fuuc—hmmm," you cry out in pleasure when his tongue thrusts into your cunt. "I'm good—I'm good, you had me—hmmm—you had me worried—it's—"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, darling," she interrupts you, her tone soft and gentle. "The thing is, your dad..." she sighs and continues, "...in the last quarter of your dad's business—we're going under, Angel."

She comes straight to the point and bemused you; but your mind is occupied with Yunho's tongue shoving in and out of your cunt, slurping your juices, squelching your fleshy folds, and pressing the tip of his nose against your slick slit. You were done for better this time. The familiar knot ties itself in your stomach again. This time, your body rather hoped you'd get to come undone and release your tension all over his face. But, Yunho had some different ideas in his mind.

Hearing a bit of static from the other side, your mom continues, "you're understanding the weight of this situation, right? It brings me no peace to tell you that," she pauses and you hum, sinking your teeth further down in your lower lip as Yunho's tongue carries on with the abuse, "we can't support your accommodation, Angel. The tuition is already paid for, which we have no concern about since you're on your scholarship—but your dormitory fees, they'll be—you'll have to pay them yourself. Maybe, get a job? Or look for a new residence, where you have to share your rent?"

Her words were going over your head, regardless you were able to catch up on few phrases which sounded important and held grave promise to them. 'Look for a new residence.' Okay. 'Get a job?' Surely something you weren't looking forward to. But 'sharing a house with strangers?'A big no-no.

Though, all you could do was nod along and release your lip from your teeth to mumble, "sure—sure, fine. I'll—mom, I'll call you later at night—I promise, I'm busy—fuck."

The moment the curse escapes your mouth in the form of a moan, you hang up the call and squint your eyes shut; Yunho was thumbing your clit at an accelerated pace, stroking circles to let your orgasm delve deeper into your soul. Your phone slips out from your hand, falling down on the ground with a subtle thump while you bring both of your hands to rest them around his neck. Oh how tempted were you to push his head down, to make his tongue reach deeper into your swollen cunt.

"Fuck, Yun—Yun, I was on call—I was on a fucking call with my mom—fuck, couldn't you—couldn't you tone it down?" you stutter, trying to steady your erratic breath.

Yunho hadn't stopped thrusting his tongue into you, neither had he stopped stroking your clit with his thumb—he doesn't utter a word and continues to do so. You were done with his teasing, huffing to yourself, you push his head down against yours cunt; now his tongue reached deep, submerged completely in your flesh and your walls clenched tightly around him.

"Yes, fuck, yeah, feels good. So good," you drool, throwing your head back and arching yourself to let the pleasure wash over you.

More importantly, your orgasm was only a few thrusts away; maybe a few flicks of his thumb could have you mewling at him as you release all over his tongue and face. The imaginary sight in your mind was riling you up in the worst ways already—you wonder what it'd be like if it were to come to life. Now that you do think about it, your dream comes crashing through—merging with the reality to spread goosebumps on your skin. Just imagining Jongho being present in the room, watching you get fucked by Yunho's tongue, was pushing you further to your edge.

"Yunho...? I'm—" you tap his shoulder twice, but he doesn't budge and continues to push his tongue in your cunt.

"Fuck." You yell and then scream out his name when you feel your walls clenching around his tongue one last time, "Yunho!"

His thumb stops toying with your clit, but his face remains buried in between your legs, his thumb having quit shoving itself into your cunt. You're flooding down his face, squealing and mumbling his name under your breath in a voiceless chant before catching a beat to respire properly. In the daze of your orgasm hitting you like a bucket of bricks, you hear him hum and nuzzle his head further into cunt; a second passes by in the heat of the moment, and he reels himself back. Leaning away eventually, he straightens himself and wipes his face with the back of his hand, getting some of your slick on the sleeves of his shirt.

"Are you insane?" you breathe out.

"Insane to get my princess cum on my face," he chuckles and shakes his head, "I hope you're feeling better now because I felt you tense up when you were talking to your mother."

He begins unbuttoning his shirt, one by one he undoes the button and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. Exposing his toned body, he throws his shirt off to somewhere and gets on his feet. You're still trapped in the stupor of your orgasm, to even notice him shimmy out of his pants. Clad in his black briefs, he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

"I've got a problem, Yunho," you murmur, and he nods, "and is it bad enough to keep us from fucking?"

Rolling your eyes you scoff, ready to shove him away, "are you really thinking with your dick, right now?"

He traces his lips down your jaw, leaving behind open mouth kisses along your skin to your neck. His hands roamed to her bare back, skimming his fingertips up front till he drags them painstakingly slow to your stomach and then further to your clit. You hug his shoulders, tight enough to hold onto him.

"You are less tense now, princess. I'm guessing my tricks are working, so...why won't I think with my dick?" he chuckles, kneeling down before you to slot himself between your spread legs.

"It's not about that, Yunho," your whine, suppressing a titter to yourself. "I'm practically homeless."

"What?" he gasps, amused and pulls back to stare at you, a confused smile sculpting on his lips.

"My parents are having some financial troubles; they are falling short to pay me for my accommodation," you pout, noticing the tent in his briefs, "so, I have to find a new place to live. And I don't where I can find an affordable apartment."

The worry lines on your forehead, concerns Yunho too. He licks his lower lip and sighs, "Angel, you can live with us."

"What now?" you massage circles into his shoulders as you hold them.

"Yeah, we've got a spare room in the loft. Well, Jongho occupied it not too long ago, but he can surely move back in with Mingi." He explains, wrapping his hands around your waist, "you don't have to pay us rent because you're going to be paying us in a different way...in all, it's the best arrangement you could ever ask for."

You think, muse and contemplate. To one side of your head you were agreeing with his proposition, but on the other side, you were marred with the thought of living with eight men out of which five were sexually interested in you and two had already fucked you good. Well, you're given no choice but to agree and get along with his deal.

"Hey, you don't have to give me an urgent answer," he mumbles, thumbing the sides of your waist, "after we're done here, you can come on over and we'll talk it out with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Capisce?"

"Why, are they supposedly the alpha males of the household?" you joke, giggling softly.

"Technically," Yunho shrugs, "Hongjoong owns the loft and he was generous enough to let us stay and share the rent. It started with me and Seonghwa, others eventually joined us through mutual friends—it was the beginning of our freshman year, so..."

"I'd need their permission?"

Yunho scoffs playfully, "princess, no. They'd be happy to welcome you in. But this is supposedly my suggestion and I fall a little short on making such decisions as compared to them. It's better if you talk with Hongjoong."

You sigh, "fine."

A smile fleets on your lips and it delves deeper in your cheek. "So, are you going to ease my mind or not?"

"You don't need to tell me twice, princess," he smirks, diving in to kiss you passionately so.

You kiss back with the same want, same heat crawling up your gut as his; the intensity wasn't dithering, neither was your anticipation. He pushes you back on the bed till you're laying under him and he straddles your lap. The kiss never stops, even when he fumbles with the waistband of his briefs to get them off in a haste. He somehow manages to tug his briefs down till his knees and his hard cock pokes your inner thigh, until the tip of his cock brushes past your lower stomach. His hands are back on you, holding your neck to position you better to deepen the kiss; his tongue wriggles its way in your mouth. For the moment it does, you feebly taste the redolence of strawberries and your cum on his tongue. There goes without saying, you still couldn't believe he let you cum on his face.

But who's to judge his preferences? You aren't a saint either. Definitely not.

Moaning into the kiss, you drag your hands up his back and let your fingertip tickle his skin. Breathless, Yunho breaks apart from the warmth of your mouth, missing the way his tongue was shoving down your throat, and uses one of his hands to pump his cock, while his other supports his weight when he places it next to your head. His back arches, his fingers stroking the reddened tip of his cock as bits of precum drips from the slit—he angles his hand in a way to spread his precum along the shaft with the palm of his hand.

"Fuck," he grunts, closing his eyes shut tight and continuing to pump his cock into his hand.

For you, this was definitely a sight more than breathtaking to witness. How often do you see a pretty blue haired man stroke his cock so eagerly for you? It went on to show how sorely he needed you and yearned to fuck your cunt. This only takes you back to the time when he had railed you so good and hard; you knew it he was untamed and being so feral with that huge cock, was indeed going to deliver the best.

You let out a soft whimper, adding in to the gentle sounding moans of his. Insane, absolutely insane. His moans were pretty, just like him and you know you could never get enough of him moaning.

"Take a deep breath for me, princess," he indicates you with a nudge of his head while he opens his eyes to look at you.

Taking a breath, you prepare yourself for his cock. He chuckles at you, admiring your intrepidity as he eases himself into you. Your face contorts in pain, with only his tip submerging in you. Knowing the pain would soon subside into pleasure, however it doesn't. Your brows twitch and your eyes squint tight enough for tears stream down the side of your face; your mouth falls agape, wide to the ache your walls sensing with the stretch.

"Ah—Yunho!" you gasp out loud, breaking out into a yell. "It hurts, stop."

And he stops. With same ease, he guides his cock out of you and cups your face immediately after noticing the tears in your eyes. You flutter your gaze across him, a little blurry but you still discern the concern etched on his face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, voice gentle and wispy. "Am I hurting you?"

"It just," you hiccup, "it hurts like hell when you..."

"Oh," he trails off, "is it because of last week? I think it is. I was too rough back then, wasn't I?" Sighing, his caresses your cheeks and leans in to kiss a stray drop of your tear away from your lips, "you're not used to such a huge cock, are you? It's fine. I'll have to be more careful with you next time—were you feeling any discomfort after that night?"

"I'm not sure, I felt sore and really raw at that time. Maybe I couldn't decry between vaginal tears and soreness," you mumble, assuring him with a faint smile before continuing, "look, it's not your fault. I failed to identify—"

"God, Angel," he groans, "it's not your fault, and for fucks sake put the blame on me. I should've been gentle with you for the first time. You're not used to it—ugh, never mind, I'll have to get you used to my size otherwise..."

"I'll be fine, stop worrying so much," you cup his face in your palms and reassure him. "Now, can we just...let's just forget about it and focus on making you feel good. It's only fair if I return the favour."

You lick your lips and let your tongue poke out through your lower lip; glancing down at his still hardened cock, you drool and your eyes twinkle with lust. He grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes.

"I am not so fond of blow-jobs," he says, smirking and then looking around till his eyes fixate on your chair and study desk. "Get on your feet, I've got a better idea." He then stands up and holds his hand out for you.

"Okay, mister," you roll your eyes and set your wobbly feet down, grabbing his extended hand before pulling you close to his body.

Your naked bodies crash into each other and heat emanates from both of you; his arms wrap around your waist and tug you around. He positions you in front of the chair, and pushes you down by the small of your back to have you leaning over the chair. He's right behind you, situating his cock perfectly against your ass which was raised high in the air.

"Legs apart," he whispers his command too close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Slapping your inner thighs, he establishes a small distance between your legs and slips himself into it, his cock slides easily amid your thighs, a little below your folds. The tip of his cock rubs against your slit, rubbing back and forth—you're driven wild with the sensation, and even more so when his hands grope your thighs from behind. His fingers dig, sink in tight enough for bruises to appear. Again, you looked forward to it, being decorated with his marks. Perfect for a possessive man like him.

"Fuck, this is your idea to make yourself cum?" you dreamily laugh out, throwing your head behind on his chest.

"Your thighs feel godly, princess," he susurrates, licking up the shell of your ear before biting down hard on your earlobe. "Squeeze them."

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together to feel his cock slip in and out at a steady pace. He bucks his hips a little higher to let himself rub against your slit in long and consistent strokes. This was certainly new to you, yet you were getting stimulated close to your second orgasm. You didn't think you would because this wasn't the same as the time he had actually penetrated you. There's no space for you to complain, you were slipping close into the world of pleasure and sensuality to give a damn about whether his cock was pounding in you or fucking your thighs.

"Fuck, just as I fucking thought—just as I fucking imagined what it would be to fuck your thighs," he whimpers close to your ear and later on you realise he was leaning over to kiss your cheek. "Princess, you've got unquestionably the best thighs to fuck. So thick, so tight—just fucking perfect."

You know he had lost it riding himself in between your thighs but you, on the other hand hadn't quite recovered from your last orgasm yet. Or even figured out how you weren't alerted to your vaginal injuries. It'd be unfair to call them injuries, they were basic nicks in the muscles of your vagina and cervix, from tremendous and tedious sexual activity. Pushing those thoughts to the far corner of your mind, your knuckles turn white while holding onto the chair, you were starting to get hot and bothered—so close to your orgasm again.

His cock thrusted along your cunt, hard and slick with his precum, which supposedly provided enough lubrication for his strokes to be smooth and pleasant. Your skin was covered with it however, and you were resisting to picture how his cum would paint your thighs. Picking up his pace, he thrusts faster yet keeps them long and sharp. Your walls clench around nothing, while your stomach drops to your knees; your legs buckle under you, under the weight of sensory overload his cock was proffering.

He flattens his palms on your thighs and gives you light slaps on either of your thighs, "we need to keep them thick and fleshy like this. I bet others would enjoy fucking them as much as I am right now."

"Hmhm, yeah..." you moan, shutting off your cognitive dissonance and mumbling along with him, "thick for you—thick for Seonghwa—thick for everyone."

"Ah, you're already blabbering bullshit, aren't you?" he titters heartily, pulling his hips back and driving them in sharply. "My cock makes you dumb, doesn't it? Hmm...a pretty little slut like you would be dumb for anyone's cock, isn't it?"

His taunts make you shake your head, lips parting to whimper, "no, fuck, only for you—only for you, Yunho."

"That's what I thought," he gasps, increasing his back and rattling his hips into yours.

His death grip is back on your thighs, his eyes are shut tight as he lurches forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder; sweaty chest presses up against your back, while you hold onto the chair for your dear life and to sedate the tremors his thrusts which caused your body to keel. The same tightness grows heavy in your gut, your spine tingling with how close you were to your second orgasm—your nails scratch off the varnish on the chair, scrapping bits of wood in them as he plunges his cock ruthlessly in between in your thighs. You squeeze them firmly, sensing the knot coming undone in your lower belly.

"Are you going to cum for me, princess?"

You nod your head, closing your eyes shut and leaning back into his touch; the heat creeps up your stomach and in a second's beat, the tension slips into comfort. You're releasing all over his cock, splashing on his and your thighs, a bit on the floor too. This time, you were knocked out for good; this orgasm was far more intense than the last one, far more overpowering too. You're mumbling his name like a chant, while he lets a laugh rumble in his chest.

"Fuck, my princess really made a mess on my cock, and everywhere else." he adds, "now, be a good little whore and help me cum too."

Without any warning, he goes even harder and faster than before, causing your body to convulse to his relentless thrusts. His untamed desire was evident in the way his fingers were bruising your skin, how tightly he was groping your thighs to stable himself from his ever increasing pace of his thrusts. He could go for long, and he does; your brain is turned to a mush in regard to the time or energy—his cock keeps hitting your folds, and the tip keeps abusing your clit.

You were past the point of sanity, breaking apart at the seams with your foul mouth screaming out his name and moaning it as if he was your god—technically, he was starting to show you stars, galaxies and miracles behind your shut eyes. All this from only rubbing himself between your thighs; it makes you wonder how much wilder the sex would get once you get to move in with him. Those ideas are for later, right now, you were vicious with his cock.

"Princess, I'm close. Don't worry—fuck—squeeze them tighter, for me—fucking please," he babbles out in despair, and you clasp your thighs even tighter on his cock.

"Fucking perfect."

He words out in a heavy breath, bucking his hips in your thighs as the tip of his cock remains close by your slit; heaving out, the warmth of his cum coats your folds and your slit. Gradually, he starts pulling back, still letting his cum sputter on your skin before he releases all of him on your ass and back. A few of it streaks down your butt-crack, eventually seeping down your butthole. You're groaning out in pleasure and possibly due to overstimulation. Nonetheless, you were satisfied, more than satisfied to know he had painted your back with his cum.

You're both breathless when he leans away from your shoulder and steps back; his small laugh resonates around you before dissipating into a soft titter.

"Princess, you just fucking know how to take a cock, don't you?" he mumbles in his post-orgasm daze, while grabbing his trousers to pull out his handkerchief. "Well, let's get you cleaned and then we'll take a shower together. We are both...sticky."

"Sounds good to me," you manage to gibber, not sure if it was audible or not. "I could use a hot shower and thorough cleaning after this."

"Hmm, I'll gladly help you clean."

You're too weak to turn around, so he helps you swivel on your feet while he holds your body close to his for support. Lethargic and drained, your eyes were closing themselves involuntarily. It was the lack of sleep—the sleep deprivation was slowly catching up with you.

"Keep your eyes open, princess. I need you here with me, okay?" his voice soothes a nerve in your mind, and you nod, opening your eyes. "Guess I'll have to be quick."

"Of course."

The rest of the evening, basically half-evening-half-night goes by smoothly. You both did take a shower together without engaging in anything and got rid of the sweat and stench of sex—but unfortunately, your room still reeked of sex, sweat and cum. You didn't care. Not particularly when you were dragged out of your dorm room by Yunho, after getting dressed in fresh clothes. You wore a long and oversized hoodie, shaded black and didn't bother wearing shorts or pants underneath as it covered most of your skin. To your surprise, as soon as you had your lip gloss on (because you liked lip gloss more than lipsticks), he had your hands intertwined and he was pulling you out of the door. He was eager for you, and the seemingly harmless arrangement you were about to propose to Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

You would've never guessed that this man drives a red corvette stingray if you hadn't been strapped in the passenger's seat of his car. An innocent looking man like him, driving such a flashy sports car, was indeed a shock to you. Looks can be deceiving, so who really cares? Everything passes by you in a blur when he speeds down the road; eventually, the city lights turn into streaks of neon haze and starbursts, until you're by the complex where his loft was located. He parks his car, and helps you out. Your hand in his, he guides you in and takes you to the loft.

Your heart is in your throat, not because you were back to this place with Yunho by your side but because you were too scared to anticipate Hongjoong's and Seonghwa's judgment on your proposition. This has to go well, and it will. Right? You have Yunho with you. What could possibly go wrong?

Yunho unlocks the door and pushes it to usher you inside. His hand never leaves yours; his grip doesn't loosen up for even a second as his pulling you further up to the living room. You and he had taken off your shoes in a haste and did not bother slipping into the house slippers. However, the commotion of your footsteps and Yunho's constant murmurs of 'it'll be okay', 'they won't bite you' and 'just relax' had gotten certain attention from the people sitting on couch.

You're soon greeted with San and Jongho, especially Jongho who has a twinkling and excited smile carved on his face. Both of them were seated on the couch, San having a laptop perched on his lap while Jongho made his observations on the screen—they were clad in their night clothes, San wearing a pair of black pajamas with white cats all over it and Jongho, a pastel blue pajama set with brown bears on it.

"Angel!!" he glees, catching your glimpse next to Yunho, "what brings you here so late at night?" his tone simmers down to being confused.

San adds, "yeah, it's not our game night tonight."

"Guys, stop pestering her, okay?" Yunho groans, looking around, "where are Hongjoong and Seonghwa?"

"Seonghwa's in the kitchen—"

"What is it Jongho...oh hey, Angel!" Seonghwa interrupts Jongho and quickly turns it into an elated greeting. "Should I be concerned for you to make your appearance this late into the night—can't ignore the fact that Yunho's here too. Are you two eloping?"

He's walking out of the kitchen, draped in a variedly stained apron and a wooden spatula in his hand. He looks gorgeous as usual, covering his white turtleneck and black trousers with a grunge red apron—not only his outfit made you quiver, but his hair was also pushed back and tied in a small ponytail behind. If he looked this alluring even when you move in, then you don't think you'd be able to resist the urge to suck him off every time he appeared in front of you.

Yunho clears his throat, aggressively and it becomes a series of wretched coughs till he's gasping for air. "Don't go too hard on me, Hwa. You know how I am."

"Fuck your preferences, Yun," Seonghwa rolls his eyes, "what is the point in bringing Angel here?"

"Well, I'll let her explain it," Yunho sighs, giving you a nudge of his head.

"Uhh, yeah, I need to talk," you mumble, scratching the back of your neck with your other hand.

Your words alert Jongho and San, and they're saturated completely on you, regardless of a certain video playing on San's laptop. Seonghwa hums along, encouraging you with a nod of his head while biting his lower lip. Yunho only stares at you, keeping a frail smile on his face.

"So, go on."

A coarse yet pitched voice booms through the room, followed by nifty footsteps of the man you had been waiting to come. You assumed he was in his room or something, but not thinking he could be at work. Hongjoong strides in, running one of his hands through his hair and other stuffed in the pocket of his jogger shorts. You watch him adorning a black tank top over his toned chest and nothing else; his complexion was striking but wasn't as pale as Yunho. A pop of melatonin makes his skin a little tanned.

"I suppose, Yunho bringing you here is rather crucial for you." He says, walking over to sit next to Jongho. Spreading his legs apart and relaxing back on the couch, he repeats, "go on, Angel."

You clear your throat, "I—I actually—I actually need a place to stay. My parents—"

"—she's in no condition to pay for her university accommodation, so she's looking for a new place to stay. I asked her to come with me since we have a room to spare," Yunho interjects, his eyes trailing over at Jongho, "you'll have to move back in with Mingi, baby bear. You're understanding enough, right?"

Jongho ponders for a minute before silently nodding, "sure. I don't mind. Angel needs it more than me."

You can't help but crack a smile at him, heart palpitating faster in your chest. Yunho could hear your heartbeat, and he squeezes your hand to ease you out. Seonghwa notices it and smiles to himself, shaking his head at the two of you before excusing himself from the living room and going back into the kitchen.

Hongjoong finds it amusing, his lips twisting in a knowing smirk before he asks you, "that's not the issue, Angel. What I need to know from you is—rather what I'm aching to hear from you is, your riposte to my proposed idea of you..."

"I agree to it," you're too quick to reply, taking the man off guard and others too.

San remains confused because he had no clue what you were talking about. Now that he is here, does it mean he'll also be involved in this reverse harem thing you have going on with others? If San gets involved then would the others be involved too? Of course you're thinking about Wooyoung and Mingi, one is a reputed manwhore and other is a man who resents you. That too for no apparent reason—or for something you don't know.

"You do?" Jongho squeals, questioning you.

"Yeah, I don't mind being your..." you trail off, glazing your eyes over at San.

From the kitchen, you hear thudding of metal dishes and spoons, soon Seonghwa comes rushing out with his wooden spatula.

"She agrees?" he asks, and Yunho nods, "she said she'd need more time to think about it, but I guess..."

"Are you agreeing to it because of your living conditions, Angel?"

There it was, Hongjoong comes straight to point. Even his stare was detrimental for you, and how insanely intense it was to pierce through yours. Hongjoong clearly liked to dominate submissive women like you—he has how own share of kinks and customs he likes to follow in the bedroom. And some of them, might seem too unconventional. You didn't want your mind to stray too far off, but he seemed like the type who definitely delighted himself in playing with chains and cuffs.

"I'm not!" you retort, explaining yourself further, "I gave it some thought and I don't think it's a bad idea."

Your pout melts through the stubborn and ice cold heart of Hongjoong's—for a man with domineering aura, he sure is letting himself submit to you. He doesn't let his stoicism waver on his face, rather his purses his lips together and spreads his legs apart further.

"Don't think it's a bad idea?" he repeats your words in coherence to your judgement, "Angel, we don't want you doing anything you are uncomfortable with. Your consent means a lot to us."

"And you have it," your pout grows, and you vaguely point at Seonghwa and Yunho, "I've already gone to the extreme with him and him."

Hongjoong chuckles, and keeping his lips parted, his canines rest against his lower lip, "we'll add it to the very list of your sex chronicles with us."

Your face heats up and turns red, before you could open your mouth to retaliate, San pipes in, "so, you've discussed this before? She's our new...fucktoy?" he cringes thereafter, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his face in disgust, "with all due respect, let me rephrase, you are our new arrangement to satisfy our sexual desires?"

You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. "Yeah, one and only."

"Are you really sure, Angel?" Jongho wants a confirmation from you and smile at him, wide and bright, wanting to erase his doubts. "Then I guess we no longer have to wait for your answer."

Seonghwa chimes in, "so, when are you moving in?"

"Oh, once this month gets over. There's only a week left anyway," you shrug, smiling a little, "I'll start packing right away."

Yunho hugs you from behind, kissing your neck; first you're caught off guard, second, he's doing this right in front of everyone and third, his scent was driving you crazy.

"I'll help you." He mumbles against your skin.

"Yunho, you know the ground rules," Hongjoong threatens and the man who was sticking to you like glue before, now detaches himself from you in an instant. "So, less P-D-A."

"Ugh, ground rules," Yunho whines, but steals a kiss from your cheek. "I'll go get changed and you are staying over tonight. Let's have dinner together, shall we?"

"Of course!" San sings, "we'll get to know you better too. I bet Wooyoung would be pretty excited to know more about you."

"Speaking of him, where is he?" Hongjoong inquires and Jongho answers, "it's the peak hour, where else would he be?"

Hongjoong nods, getting his answer and Seonghwa sprints back into the kitchen not long before announcing, "we've got enough food for you too, so you're staying here."

You quietly agree to him and swallow thickly, striding over to sit on the lone chair adjacent to the couch. That's when Mingi comes into the room from upstairs, his hair tousled and messy, wearing grey sweatpants and a grunge green graphic sweatshirt. He eyes you as he crosses the living room, glaring at you to set his point through. He didn't want you here. But, he couldn't go against Hongjoong's or Seonghwa's wishes.

"Look who's finally out of their room!" Jongho cheers, laughing and joking around before clearing his throat and informing Mingi, "oh well, guess what, Mingi. I'm shifting myself back into your room. Angel's moving in with us and taking over the spare room."

"What?" Mingi grunts, burning his eyes on you, through you, in all hating your presence in the room altogether.

"Y'all really addicted to this whore's cunt, aren't ya? Keep me out of your fucking deal. I ain't getting involved."

And that fucking hurt your soul. But you keep quiet and while you're at it, Yunho walks in the heated room—Hongjoong and the others are about to defend you when Yunho does it himself. He adorns a conceited smirk and folds his arms over his chest, they bulge out through his grey hoodie somehow, but your eyes travel down to somewhere where they shouldn't have. His jogger shorts are too thin to show off the outline of his cock, he wasn't hard, but he was huge. Why are you drooling on his cock when you're having trouble in paradise? Not that you hadn't seen his cock before. And you are his damsel in distress.

"That's more for us then, Min." Yunho steps closer to him and gets all in his face,

"If you're not involved in this with us, then it's one less person we'll have to share her with."

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