#so you decide to love something less all-consuming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunicate · 1 month

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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. lucifer x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི daddy kink. prbly excessive use of princess/little girl/human. size kink. praise. nipple sucking. fingering. possessive luci. unedited as usual. wc ꒱ 6k ﾉ 18+

note . . ᘏ⑅ᘏ ﾉ i dunno if this is even a repost anymore bcuz the original fic was only 2k words :c . . i also thought I wasn’t cwazy abt luci anymore but boy . . wus i wrong. i still luv him dearly. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys. thankuuu ^_^

lucifer could never understand why humans, beings fettered by something as meaningless as mortality, could possess the ties to control and bind demons.

how such frail bodies of small messes, succumbing to sicknesses, phobias, and other little weirds are able to form pacts with such powerful creatures

it’s a polarizing thought that he’s never challenged or sought to change. he understands them for what they are. arguably worse than demons, and he wants nothing to do with them. they are violent, weak, and fickle, and somehow—in the irony of it all—the universe plays a trick on him.

he lowered his defenses and foolishly got ahead of himself. he was unlike his brothers; he didn’t need love or companionship, and yet, of all the powerful beings and creatures, it’s a human that turned him into something unrecognizable.

it was faceless, sneaking up on him, and he was unable to remedy it as he slowly felt it consume him whole.

a bond was webbed between the two of you, and he’s certain, frighteningly so, that nothing could break it.

granted, that level of trust surely didn’t form overnight, as you proved to be quite troublesome. you were used to peeking your nose where it didn’t belong and going into places mortals should never be, making his job more difficult, but still, he trusts you.

with six younger demon brothers and a human to look after, discord became frequent. secrets wrapped tightly were easily unveiled just from your existence in devildom.

he kept a mental checklist of all your wrongdoings, and now your invasion of his heart was another.

his heart.

nothing but proof of his existence, only meant to pump blood and oxygen, has now expanded far too much to fit within his ribcage. it was suffocating.

it made room for a different kind of love, for someone else, and he didn’t think it was possible. he became spoiled by your affections.

he yearned so much for you that he was convinced that his carnage and sadism might have withered. at least, that's what he thought, only to realize it’s been tucked away in a cavity that you simultaneously filled.

he’s unfortunately reminded that it never really went anywhere. he’s respected and feared by all, and yet it wasn’t enough to deter his brothers from causing any mishaps, especially one in particular.

♡ . . ♡

it’s dinner when lucifer decides to strike.

chatter and the smell of only the best food in devildom fill the room. he almost feels bad for souring the joyful atmosphere—almost, but as always, there's an impending conflict that would render him irritable for the rest of the night.

he sits at the head of the table as the eldest brother and strongest demon, earning everyone's stare from the shift in the atmosphere. you and his brothers could sense that he wasn’t going to make a meager announcement. lucifer moves slowly, careful to prevent any of his heedless anger from slipping through.

he looks at everyone in the room, but his gaze lingers on you a bit longer.

“forgive me for interrupting dinner, but it’s come to my attention that someone here has stolen something valuable of mine.” his voice is deep, stern, and accusing. it echoes in the candle-lit hall.

“my credit card.”

maybe it's his sadistic streak, but he knew asking that question was ultimately trivial. he knows which of his brothers is guilty; you all did.

there’s only one demon dumb and desperate enough to steal from lucifer of all people, and while the perpetrator was obvious, it didn’t make anyone any less anxious.

the avatar of pride is infamous for his punishments, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end. when anything goes amiss, they must answer to him, and you were no exception to that rule.

you point your manicured finger at mammon, and his expression morphs into utter terror. he yelps at your tattling, already plotting at least three different ways to make his escape.

“oh my,” asmo laughs.

belphie yawns obnoxiously, unamused by the series of events. it was just another typical night in the house of lamentation; nothing should surprise anyone, and still, lucifer let a troubled sigh escape.

mammon throws a fit of indignation, as if his culpability wasn’t already obvious.

tossing his hands in the air, he whines, “damn it. why’d ya’ have to tell?” he slides down the seat of the chair, trying to avoid lucifer’s angered stare as much as possible.

you don’t think to reply, almost even rolling your eyes at him. everyone knows it’s him, and like the well-behaved girl you are, you figure it makes no sense to drag out the inevitable.

but when everyone’s eyes settle on you in curiosity, you slouch in your chair and blush at the sudden attention. you feel nervous, like you made a blunder of some sort.

they expectantly await your answer, but you don't have one.

“s-sorry, mammon,” you squeak out.

your hands in between your thighs and fidget under their stares.

you couldn’t, at least not confidently, admit that lucifer has you wrapped around his finger. he expects far too much of you, and you couldn’t possibly ruin that because of mammon, but that didn’t lessen the slight guilt from easing in.

“don’t apologize,” lucifer says, bolstering his voice—his attempt at scolding mammon while reassuring you.

“it’s not up to her to entertain your lies. perhaps if you weren’t always up to no good, she wouldn’t have to confess to your wrongdoings,” he lectures.

he sneers at him, and you watch as the younger demon slinks back further. “you’re the second oldest. act like it.”

mammon huffs.

“ahhh, lucifer, you’re no fun.”

admittedly, the brothers would get away with a lot more if it weren’t for your honesty.

make no mistake, they all love you dearly, but the troublemakers couldn’t tolerate your obedience when it comes to lucifer.

when he asked you who ate all the food satan prepared for breakfast the next day, you didn’t hesitate to say it was beel. when he asks you who wrote ‘lucifer sucks :p’ on his wall, you don’t stutter to inform him of satan’s and belphie’s not-so-secretive plan of his tormentation.

anything he wants, anything he asks, you obey. that was just the nature of your relationship.

after mammon realizes pouting won’t get him out of trouble with lucifer, he goes back to eating, and the others follow suit. soon the lively atmosphere returned, but you felt rather self-conscious.

you looked over at lucifer in the hope of finding something that you're weren't sure of yet, only to see that he was already staring at you. you nibble on your spoon, suddenly feeling bare from his lowered gaze.

there is a sense of security that you crave. his look of approval serves as a reminder of why you’re faithful to him. it was rewarding to know that your loyalty didn’t go unnoticed.

you look away quickly to hide your flusteredness by sipping on your tea, but the sweet taste of earl gray isn’t enough to distract you.

dinner begins to slow and wrap up. one by one, everyone bids their goodbyes. mammon is the first to depart, knowing he’d need as much of a head start as possible. when you finish the remainder of your dinner, you get up to leave as well.

you think about how to spend the rest of your evening, and your mind wanders to cramped thighs and ruined pillows.

you grow heated by the memory of previous nights. you touched yourself too many times to count after constantly witnessing lucifer’s disheveled state after his long day of reprimanding.

you stuffed your cunt with your fingers nightly, trying to mimic the feeling of something much larger. it was difficult to commit such acts quietly in a home full of creatures with nearly perfect hearing, and still, you wonder what fantasy will tether you tonight.

maybe the one when he fucks you in diavolo’s office, or your personal favorite, he punishes you.

you fantasize about him pulling up your dainty dress to put you over his lap and spank your plump ass until cum soaks your thighs, but tonight, you don’t have to conjure up anything.

lucifer stops you in the middle of your daydream. grabbing your wrist gently, he catches you by surprise.

you clumsily turn. frazzled eyes meet unwavering carmines. you’re almost certain he could hear the thump beating between your legs.

the prideful demon pulls you close, forcing your bodies to collide and connect like missing pieces. his breath is warm against your ear.

“would you like to come by my chambers later tonight?”

you look up to search his face, wondering if there’s even a sign of doubt. after countless days and nights and all sorts of muddled feelings between sheets, there is a part of you that can’t truly accept that he sought you.

one of the most eligible bachelors in all of devildom, known for his fearsomeness, is holding you like you were glass, asking for your company.

you soak in his expression, and it’s nothing less than firm and impenetrable, and it's then that you realize it was not a question. he was not asking.

struck with a whirlwind of desire from that revelation, you nod weakly, but the demon only shakes his head in response.

“words, my little human.”

your head tilts on its axis only for a moment. your chest had to be wide open, bearing your insides to him. the effect he had on you must have been that obvious. you’re a puddle.

was it normal to feel the static every time he was around, after every word he spoke?

you feel hazy, but also a small sense of relief that you no longer have to question if he still wants you. you’ve exhausted your fingers and toys, and finally, what you have been needlessly craving would be fulfilled in a room only a few doors down. his gaze flickers to your lips, and they shine with promise.

you mustered up all the courage you had left.

“yes, i would love to come by later.”

you’re amazed that it didn’t come out as wobbly as you anticipated. you’ve gotten better at pretending, you suppose.

lucifer gives you a sweet smile. he’s pleased with your answer, and butterflies erupt in your full belly.

his gloved hand then completely engulfs yours to bring it to his lips. not once breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckle before he departs. a hopeless romantic.

he sets out to find mammon, and that gives you enough time to prepare.

you stalk up the stairs, declining levi’s invitation for a night of competitive gaming pitifully on the way. you’ll make it up to him next time.

by ushering yourself into your room, you act immediately. you don’t spend too long getting ready. a steaming, hot shower would suffice. you wash up with a bar of gentle soap, then follow through with too many to-count spritzes of perfume and faint-smelling lotion.

white with pastel pink trim.

your night clothes are simple and short enough to keep him on his toes. you look over at yourself in the mirror.

when did you become so daring ? you didn’t know. maybe asmo’s tips on charm and seduction were finally rubbing off on you. you wonder what his reaction would be if you told him you were using them on his brother. maybe he already knew.

you turn off your light and open your door. you peek down the hall.

it’s silent and empty, just as you predicted.

quietly, you shut the door, cursing to yourself when you hear the faint cry of the rusty hinges. your trek down to his room was anxiety-inducing, but in a good way. you feel refreshed, your body is more than ready, and you’re excited.

you hoped no one would drop by unexpectedly. beel would most likely wake up in the middle of the night for a snack, but the kitchen was in the opposite direction of lucifer’s room. not that it mattered anyway.

it wasn’t really a secret—not that those lasted with you around—but it would be. . . awkward. you’d much rather not have to deal with anyone overhearing all the naughty things you’ll beg him to do.

you stop your train of thought when you reach the end of the hallway. you’re in front of his door, and you sway from your heels to your tippy toes. the fluttery ache in your chest was making you skittish.

you take a breath to compose yourself, and then you knock with three light taps.

“come in”

it takes a good chunk of your strength to open his heavy door, but you appreciate the time it grants you. it gives you the space to calm yourself down and ease your prickly nerves.

when you enter, you let your eyes wander around the room first. nothing but books, old records, and silhouettes of things you couldn’t make out in the dark. you walk in and find him leaning against his unusually messy desk.

there's soft light from the lamp that hugs his frame and illuminates his coat discarded on the nearby dresser.

he fiddles with the strap of his gloves, giving you a small smile at the sight of your presence.

“you don’t have to knock, my love.”

he allows his gaze to explore, drinking in the outfit you picked out specifically for him. already, his trousers are suffocating and distracting him, but he’s quick to recover.

you bite your lip out of habit under his lustful stare.

“i know, but i wanted to just in case you were busy . . .”

there’s an amused huff.

his long legs carry him over to where you stand swiftly. his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, and he presses a kiss against your forehead.

“sweet girl.” and the way it skirts the edge of sensuality could make you melt. “even if i am, feel free to steal me away,” he whispers.

you swallow down a moan at the thought. maybe one day he'll eat those words.

his hand trails from your face to the nape of your neck and pauses.

“you washed your hair,” he observes.

you shake your head.

“it got a little wet in the shower so I’m just letting it air dry for a bit, luci.”

you pull at a wet strand and watch it dutifully bounce back in place. “ i was too lazy to dry it.“

he watches the notion with careful eyes. you wanted to giggle at how serious he looked.

“i wish you would’ve asked me to help you. i don’t want you getting a cold.”

you smile at his sincerity. you realized very early on that lucifer enjoyed tending to you. he likes consistency and being depended on.

‘it’s for your own well-being,’ he says, but you think he likes to have a pretty girl to fuss over

you offer him a small pout. “i did think about it, but i assumed you were still scolding mammon. i didn’t want to bother you.”

“besides.” you turn away, “i don’t think he wants to see me right now”

already, you’re embarrassed by the thought of facing mammon again. flustered, you recall tonight’s dinner and the look on their faces. you are definitely going to avoid them at school tomorrow.

you slouch, "he totally hates me.”

you say it half-heartedly, but lucifer looks at you with seriousness.

he softly grabs you by your chin. “don’t speak like that. he doesn’t hate you—none of us do, and i’m not sure we are capable of harboring such thoughts.”

you smile. “i dunno. i’m pretty sure you guys hated my guts when i first came.” you chuckle, thinking he’d at least join in, but he frowns. his heavy hand strokes the top of your head in an affectionate rhythm.

“we had our differences, and i was far too harsh. that i know.”

there’s a faraway look in his eye, and you know there’s a silent storm forming. you reach out to cup his cheek, and he melts into your touch.

“i never hated you,” he says.

you knew that your actions played a part in straining the early stages of your relationship. you also had to come to terms that not only lucifer, but multiple brothers harbored resentment towards humans,

its not a perfect story, but everything about this was completely unconventional. you’re just a woman who somehow found herself stuck in an attempt at other-worldly diplomacy, now sandwiched between the trying relationships of seven powerful demons.

things are rocky, but it’s the happiest you’ve ever been.

“i was only teasing, luci. i'm not mad or scared anymore.”

the hand you rested on his cheeks gets gripped by his larger ones, and he kisses your palm fondly.

“besides, i think we both know i wasn’t completely innocent.”

he takes a deep inhale.

“still, i think about how things were before.” he recalls the past in disdain; he blames his pride and then himself.

“my brothers and i . . . we are devoted to you, and we have the pacts to prove it.”

it’s a provocation you’re still not entirely used to. you had 7 demons who offered themselves to you, and the proof is imprinted on their skin.

in the human world, you’re everything and nothing at the same time. feelings of loneliness and insecurity that are far too loud and are still not enough to matter. you realized everyone lived selfishly, and your heart wasn’t hardened enough to follow suit.

lucifer's thoughts about humans didn’t change, despite his proximity to you. talks of your life as a young girl only cemented his thinking.

you were far too perfect for humans, too devious for angels, and too innocent for demons.

you were an entity on your own, and scarily he worshiped you. all of you.

he’d never tire of sinking his cock into your wet cunt, filling you with his seed, and hearing those saccharine moans that fall from glossed lips. he was ravenous, but you truly didn’t know the extent of it.

“my brothers care for you deeply, as do i, but you must know.” his eyes seem darker and much more predatory, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. like a bunny trapped in a hunter's cage, your doe eyes double in size and tremors rattle through your frame.

“you’re mine alone. your mind and body belong to only me.”

lucifer is well aware that six other cocks competed for your attention. a crass choice of words, but nothing less than true. they vied for the human girl, with nearly everyone wrapped around her dainty fingers. you are a color in the world shrouded in sisyphean darkness.

his lips part on your skin. “they can touch and taste you because i allow it.”

rough hands pull up your skirt, and he grabs a handful of your ass. “this . . . this is all mine.”

you make sure to turn and give your butt a little wiggle. it's more than a sultry gesture, and lucifer thinks a human so docile posing erotically might be the one thing to kill him.

how do you make soiled underwear look so pretty and enticing? there’s a possessive streak, a soft darkness that opens its curtains upon your presence. it peers over his shoulder, urging him to devour you. to pick at your remains until he’s consumed you.

“you're beautiful,” he groans. he inches close to you, and you think your lips are going to meet halfway, but he kisses your forehead.

then, your eyelids, your nose, and the side of your mouth, you look at him with half-lidded eyes, and he doesn’t budge when you try to squirm.

lucifer steps back and leads you to his chair. he settles into the squeaky leather until his back is comfortably cushioned.

he pats his firm lap.

“come.”

you know he’s holding back. his muscles ripple beneath you, he slouches farther into his chair, his legs spread to give his groin space to freely twitch against the slackness of his pants, and it only invites you

you struggle to decide where to sit. his knee or over his lap, both very promising positions, but he decides for you. he pulls your hip so your cunt is nestled right up against his cock. you sigh breathily, already your brain turning to mush.

“i didn’t even touch you, and you’re already making such a mess, sweet girl.”

the angle you tilt your head hides your expression, but from the flutter of your lashes and the purses of your lips, he knows you’ve grown shy.

"you kissed me,”

your sweet tone and your faint aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine make his cock stir.

“is that why you’re so worked up? just from my kiss?”

not even on the lips—not yet at least, and you’ve already wetted the fabric with your sticky arousal.

“what will happen when daddy touches right here?”

it’s a feathery graze against your protruding bud. his knuckles nudge the seat of the moist cotton, right where the white turned nearly transparent against your swollen cunt.

“it aches, doesn’t it?”

slender fingers slip under the band teasingly. he studies the subtle twitch of your hole, pumping a stream of glossy slick.

“do you want me to make it go away, hm? do you want daddy to make it better?”

you nod, a broken moan falling from your trembling lips.

“ i wantmore daddy.”

you spread your legs wider, hoping he’d be more generous with his caress.

“soon, my love.”

his hands trail from your pants to your stomach to your shoulders.

his hands rub your stomach and under your breast, settling right on your hip. you know he is hyper-aware of the thin fabric separating his cock from your heat.

even in his lap, he’s taller than you, but only by a few inches. his eyes are low and hazy.

“i wish to take my time with you.”

his thumb trails over your nipple.

“you have no idea how much i missed you.”

his other fingers pull at the other nipple.

you’ve felt those same digits on your neck, in your mouth, curled around your wrist and threaded between your fingers, and now between your thighs

he begins to grope at your exposed flesh. he admires how supple they appear, and he has to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into them.

your body never falters, and it responds so well to his hot and addicting touch. lucifer tries not to tease you; after all, he is rewarding you, but the little sounds and pants that leave your lips almost make him rethink.

your skirt is wrinkled, and he flips it at your hip, and your entire bottom half is almost fully exposed. your bare legs are on display, and so is your clothed mound. he mumbles sweet praises into the side of your breast while tracing the outline of your pussy through your pants with his finger.

you pull him away from your chest to kiss him, and lucifer has to remember that you’re human. that your small and pouty mouth, which struggles to swallow, is as fragile as the rest of you. palms splayed about on your back remind him he can mold you.

his hands are in a constant of motion, tugging and squeezing at your flesh. it feels like he’s in awe of every part of your body no matter how it differs from his. his touches are messy and yet controlled. they search you in subtle restraint, fearful that they’ll hurt you.

you’ve never been touched this way. to have someone want you so desperately— to possess you almost. his hands are burning you and you feel on top of the world.

you moan at his caress and feel heat rush through your body. if it weren’t for the lack of air in his lungs, he’d never pull away but eventually he does. lucifer experimentally probes your clit and looks up at your face to admire your expression.

“do you like that?” he whispers. you bite your lip, and your voice raises in pitch, “mhm.”

lucifer smirks to himself and kisses your nipple. “what did i say about words, little one?”

he stops his ministrations on your cunt and licks at your areola teasingly. he settles the tip of his tongue on your heated bud, flicking it, sending a shiver down your spine.

“is my good girl acting up?.”

“n-no, daddy, never.”

between each breath, he plants open-mouthed kisses across your chest.

“i hope so. i would hate to have to punish you.”

he sucks diligently and roughly. his tongue aggressively strokes your nipple, addicted to how it feels in his mouth. he closes his eyes and continues his assault on your chest.

your soft cries filled his room, and the feeling of your teat on the surface of his wet muscles pleased him. the aforementioned headache was long gone because the plushness of your body took over his mind and soul.

you may feel an indescribable urge to obey him, but he's just as much under your spell as you’re under his. he’s the embodiment of pride, but he’s not against admitting that you invade every inch of him. you don’t know it yet, but anything you ask of him, he will deliver. he wonders if you could hear his heart thrumming against his chest.

you’re naked, but he feels equally as exposed.

he continues sucking on one breast, his other hand busied itself, rubbing the neglected one. you arch into his touch, your tit spilling out of his hand. the weight of it feels secure in his large palm.

the stimulation has you unruly within his embrace. one minute, your hips are still from his flicks at your pussy, and then it jerks up, wanting more from his skilled and wandering hands.

lucifer likes this side of you, desperate and unashamed of how you wanted him to use your body.

you’re so sensitive that any subtle movement sends pressure to your clit. every time you whimper, especially loudly, he's quick to praise you.

“such lovely noises. i bet you’d do anything to please me, hm?” he hums.

you remember his earlier warning eager to be on your best behavior. “yes, daddy.”

it was hard to verbalize but you were at his mercy. anything for his approval, anything for his praise, you’d do it, especially if it meant you’d get rewarded like this.

he then pulls up your soaked panties, and you gasp at the sudden gesture. they stretch across the surface of your wet pussy, and they snap from his brute strength. the break in the fabric spanking your cunt.

“what a pretty thing.”

he tosses your ripped panties to the floor, ruining your perfect set. but he’d buy you another.

“i just want to be your good girl,” you say, rubbing your legs together in anticipation.

“you’re always my good girl. isn’t that right?”

you nod and feel happiness bloom.

“the best girl for daddy,” lucifer sensually encourages.

at this rate, you’re dizzy and drunk on his intoxicating words and erotic touch. you’re babbling, and lucifer finds it endearing.

you whine when he finally takes his gloved finger and rubs slow and tight circles on your slippery bud. “dada—.” you cry especially loud.

“i know, i know,” he shushes.

you felt relief consume you at the friction of his gloves on your trembling cunny. he continues to rub and fiddle with it until you’re forced to bury your mewls into the crook of his neck.

he takes another finger and presses down on your twitchy button, and you flinch at the sudden burst of pleasure.

he knows your body like the back of his hand, and he knows how to make you fall apart. his finger continues to work on your sensitive nub, and you gradually begin to soak his lap with your arousal.

he drags his fingers over your labia and grazes over your desperate hole.

within a few strokes, he plunges two fingers into your heat. he watches you push your tits into his face from the pleasure that forces the arch in your back. and he takes a deep inhale. your pussy greedily latches onto his fingers, and you’re practically fucking his hand.

“you look so delicious in my lap. such a beautiful sight, and it's reserved for only me.”

the depth of his voice sends shudders through your body

he loved how his fingers slid right in. it felt like your pussy was made to take what he gave you. his big fingers fervently stroke your insides, and your legs shake.

just watching your tiny hole stretch to the width of his fingers threatened his self-control. he wanted to fill you with something much bigger, and he’d know you would take it because you're his precious girl.

he wants to see your cunt wrapped around his heavy cock, but he’d settle for now.

just seeing you so pliant in his arms from his tongue lapping at your breast and his large fingers was enough for him.

you drip all over his wrist, and it darkens his gloves.

lucifer’s fingers rub every soft ridge, and your cunt is more than happy for it. the wetness, the squelch, the tightness—it’s overwhelming for you. you feel as if you’re finally unraveling.

"i'm going to cum, daddy. please." you don’t know what you're begging for, but whatever he was willing to do, you needed it now.

lucifer knows you’re close—very close. you’ve nearly gone stiff, and you’re shaking against him. your toes are curled, and your first is clutched.

“oh, is this princess’ pussy going to make a mess?” he coaxes. you open your mouth, moaning, and lucifer leans down. your foreheads are touching, and you unabashedly mewl, your minty breath fanning his face. “is she going to cream for me?”

you feel your orgasm sneaking up on you. lucifer only increases the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunny. he becomes more brutal, only wanting you to be within his arms as his only goal.

he’s so close to you that your lashes touch his skin. sweat simmers on your chest, and he sucks on your now bruised bottom lip from all your biting.

with two fingers still buried inside you, stroking your walls, he presses his thumb to your clit once more.

“that’s it, it’s pretty girl.”

you felt it coming; you had ample time, and you tried to keep yourself contained, but the force was still too unbearable. you had no idea how much he was holding back.

“i’m so much bigger than you. so much stronger, and you’re so little, princess.” he chuckles in a state of disbelief.

“and you’re not even scared.”

“you’re too trusting, but i suppose that’s why i love you so much. daddy’s brave little girl.”

like a lick of lightning, lucifer feels his desire threaten to snap. his human—his sweet mess full of little weirds, kind eyes, and a soft mouth was going to make him lose himself. he's growling like a beast with every chant of his name.

“daddydaddydaddy —hiccup— love you lots, b-but. i-i can’t think anymore. can’t take it.”

drool collects on the side of your mouth.

“i know it’s a lot for you right now, but you’re doing so well, princess.”

he re-adjusts your body on his lap. “just think about daddy and his fingers.”

the appendages stretching your cunt pull out briefly.

“look at that precious pussy.”

he spreads your labia watching the uneasy throb of your hole that begged to be stuffed.

lucifer wants to mount you, but he remembers what he is when he can smell the blood pumping through veins and the feeling of your heartbeat under the tips of his fingers.

he needs to treat you like a prized dolly to dress up, to kiss, and to fuck.

you don’t need to think; he knows what’s best, and he wants to keep you on a shelf for his own use.

you made him a beast, luring him into darkness, but he was never good at hiding. he felt like he was defiling you. you were truly an entity different from anything he’s ever known. sweet as brown sugar, and he’s tainting you.

still, the thrust of his arms grows stronger. nothing but the milky, wet sounds of your drenched cunt

“your little pussy is crying. you can let go for me.”

your hearts swell with another wave of heat. the sweet babbles of you wanting to reciprocate his love die on your tongue when your body stills. you toss your head back with a pretty wail nearing your crescendo. noisily, his fingers pump your pussy with trickles of wetness spurting out.

your hips jolt forward and erratically hump the heel of his palm, hoping to reach your end much sooner.

“m right there, —!”

he's going to make you cum hard. everything from the sound of his voice to his rough fingers to the shape of his cock could make you cream. his skill never fails you, always leaving you nearly boneless. you’re always going to come crawling back for more, without a doubt.

lucifer feels your walls pulsate around him, warning him of your impending orgasm, and it strokes his ego.

“daddyyyy,” you pant deliriously. his thumb drags at your clit repeatedly and with the sensation of your insides being drained, you sob. you’re too loud, but you can't remain silent any longer.

lucifer kisses your forehead to soothe you, and with a slight pinch of your throbbing cunt, you erupt in the middle of his embrace. the dam finally breaks, and your pussy convulses angrily like it's trying to push his fingers out.

“thaaaaat’s it, baby. daddy is so proud of you.”

he increases his pace, draining you of all the cum your cunny could pump out. until your knees buckle around his wrists.

your chest expands, desperate for more air. your head is fogging up, and you’re exhausted. your limbs are strewn across the demon, lacking complete strength.

lucifer lets you cool off from your high, and he slips his fingers out of you. without hesitation, he buries them into his mouth. the taste of you fills his taste buds to utter satisfaction. you're delicious, sweet and sour, and addicting. he would inject the very essence of you into his veins if he could. but maybe he's already hooked on you; that would explain his racing mind filled with thoughts of only you.

this demon that he’s become terrifies him, but he doesn't want to change. his family and his precious human are all he needs.

he wraps you up in his arms and hugs you. your back is now pressed into his chest, eyes closed blissfully. lucifer tucks your head under his chin, and you rest safely in his hold.

he silently admires the number he did on your body and feels the familiar feeling of pride bursts within him. he looks at your beautiful face, your puffy nipples, and used pussy and he feels gratified fulfillment engulf him.

“perfect human,” he mumbles.

he graces you with another kiss on your heated skin.

“my obedient little girl.”

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #obey me lucifer #omswd lucifer #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me x reader smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x female reader #female reader #divider from @cafekitsune

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nina-ya · 4 months

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Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Law x reader CW: Mentions of blood. Fluff overall. WC: 1.2k

Leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the moon casting its gentle glow on the calm waters, you found comfort in the rare moment of the submarine surfaced on the open sea. Law joined you, and a comfortable silence settled between you, the only background noise being the ship's engines and the crash of waves.

“You know,” he starts, his fingers idly tracing the railings, “I’ve heard of these groups of islands on the Red Line, uninhabited and unexplored,” his fingers seem to trace circles into the railing, mimicking the islands as he continues, “I can see the entire crew living on one of those islands, just all of us together.” His fingers halt in their place, and his gaze shifts to you, “... and I see you there. I see you and me together, just living without a care in the world.” The atmosphere fills slightly with a tension and you sense a rare vulnerability in Law's demeanor.

“There's something about the uncharted,” he muses, his gaze fixing onto the stars above. “It’s just so pure and untouched. Not ruined by horrible people, and we would be the ones to shape its story.”

As he speaks, Law's demeanor softens, revealing a side of him rarely seen. His eyes hold a glimmer of anticipation, and the corners of his lips betray a subtle smile.

"I've seen enough chaos and battles," he admits. "What I want is to discover a future with someone I care about."

In the quiet between words, Law’s hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining. "I can picture it," he confesses, "a life where you and I are free from the constraints of the world. One where we can live freely."

The conversation drifts into the early hours of the morning, the shared hopes and dreams only giving way to the certainty of being together forever. You know Law loves you when he talks about a future with you in it.

- - - The dim light of Law's cabin barely illuminates the room as the submarine sails through the night. As a habitual insomniac, he found himself immersed in the quiet of the late hours. Papers, maps, and various other books are scattered across his desk, evidence of a night spent deep in thought and planning.

The first rays of sun begin to filter through the porthole of his quarters, Law, weary but determined, pushes himself to finish what he has already started. Knowing that you will wake up soon, Law decides to ignore the drowsiness that threatened to consume him. Without a word, he closes his books, tidies the clutter on his desk, and heads to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Law moves with purpose. He selects ingredients, and soon, the aroma of fresh coffee beans fills the air as he brews a strong pot for you. The soft sizzle of eggs hitting the pan accompanies the noise of the coffee dripping into the pot

Despite the evident weariness in his face, Law continues. He plates a simple yet thoughtful breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Just as the sun begins to shine over the submarine, Law returns to his quarters. The signs of a long night are evident in the disheveled papers, the scattered books. Yet, on the small desk, there sits a neatly arranged breakfast tray, just for you.

As you stir awake, the smell of breakfast fills your senses. You look over to the source of the smell and your eyes land on the desk. There, you find the meal and right next to it, lays Law, who is sound asleep. You smile softly as you take in the sight in front of you. You know Law loves you through his silent acts of service towards you.

The smell of blood fills the air as the battle comes to an end. Law surveys the aftermath, assigning the uninjured members of the crew to tend to the more severely injured ones as his own attention turns to focus solely on you.

“Here, let me help you.” He commands in his usual stern tone as he guides you to a less chaotic area, the subtle urgency in his voice betraying the composed facade. He quickly starts his examination on you, not wanting to miss any bump or scratch.

As other more bruised and battered crew members come to seek medical attention from Law, he quickly dismisses them. "Give us some space," he declares, a firmness in his voice indicating that he is not to be disobeyed.

Law meticulously examines you and your injuries, his fingers tracing every cut, every scratch, every bruise on your body as he decides his next course of action. He determines that your injuries are only surface level, but insists on staying with you and patching you up himself.

His attention never wavers as he tends to each and every wound on you, making sure to give you extra care and love and attention. He knows the rest of his crew needs proper medical attention, but a lingering voice yells at him to make sure that you are completely taken care of before anyone else. As he applies the bandages, you can see the care and love for you he has in his eyes. You know Law loves you when he puts your health and wellbeing above others.

Law sits in a corner of his quarters engrossed in the latest issue of "Sora the Warrior." The glow of the lamp beside him casts a warm light on his face, emphasizing the focus in his features evident in the furrow of his brows.

You enter the room, your purpose being to look for something, but your gaze falls upon Law and the unexpected sight of him being lost in a comic. A hint of surprise crosses your face, quickly replaced by a playful smirk. Law, sensing your presence, looked up, his expression shifting from concentration to embarrassment.

Caught in the act, Law instinctively closes the comic, a poor excuse falling from his lips as he utters "It's not what it looks like," a rare flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. His attempt at nonchalance only fuels your amusement.

You can’t help but tease him. "Didn't take you for a comic book fan, Captain," you say, a playful glint in your eyes.

Law sighs realizing he can't talk his way out of this one. "Fine, yes I'm into comics." he confessed, embarrassment evident in his tone.

Out of curiosity, you encourage him to share more. "Really? I had no idea you were into this stuff. What do you like about it?" you asked, taking a seat beside him.

Law hesitates for a moment before launching into an unexpectedly enthusiastic explanation. His eyes light up as he dives into the storyline, the character development, and the battles. As he rambles on, the embarrassment melts away, replaced by a childlike enthusiasm.

He begins to show you the comic, pointing out details in the artwork, discussing plot twists, and even theorizing how the story might go. The more he talked, the more animated he became, his initial embarrassment transforming into genuine enthusiasm for the comics. You find yourself smiling in complete and utter infatuation as his more unexpected nerdy side comes out as he rambles passionately. The excitement in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes shows you a different side of Law, one that you hope to see more often. You know Law loves you when he shares his unexpected passions with you.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader

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cy-cyborg · 2 months

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Disability Tropes: The disabling change of heart

When a character in a story becomes disabled, they'll sometimes experience a trope that I like to call "the disabling change of heart". This is when the character goes through a massive change in their outlook, their personality, their goals or even roll in the story, specifically because they became (or are about to become) physically disabled. Sometimes, this will be in relatively small ways: the happy-go-lucky comedic relief character might become bitter, angry and jaded after getting into an accident that caused a spinal injury, or the severally depressed and nihilistic character might suddenly start acting more cheerful and hopeful, stating that loosing their leg has "put things into perspective and showed them what really matters". In other cases though, the impact is much larger, the heroic character you've been hearing about looses an arm thanks to the main character's actions, causing them to become consumed with anger and self-loathing which they take out on everyone else, eventually becoming an antagonist as they seek revenge for what the main character did to them. The morally grey or even villainous character is injured by their own scheme, giving themselves a permanent disability in the process, which prompts a change of heart and leads them to turn their lives around and become better people, maybe even deciding to team up with the heroes.

Now, having a character go through a personality and goal change due to a major life event, such as becoming physically disabled, isn't inherently bad. A lot of writers are told to tie major shifts in your character's development to major life events, because realistically, something like becoming newly disabled will at least impact how you view the world around you. I very frequently talk about how if I didn't loose my legs, I would have become a vastly different person, but the issues with this trope depends on how it's used and the reasons behind these developments, and whether or not the change suits the character in question.

Before we get into things, I would like to specify that in this post, I'm only going to be talking about how this trope is used with physical disabilities and other easily visible forms of disability. It does show up with characters who develop disabilities under the mentally ill and neurodivergent umbrellas, and is actually a bit more common than what I'm talking about today, but the specific ways its utilised are so different that it's more or less a separate trope, and one that deserves much more attention than I could give it here as this is already going to be a pretty long post. So for today, I'm keeping to it's use with physical and visible disabilities, and we'll talk about how this trope is used with neurodivergence and mental illness another day.

The main thing you need to be mindful of is ensuring that you, as an author, are not including your ingrained biases about disability into the reasoning behind the change. Let's look at one of the examples from before, an evil character who, after loosing their arm (because it's almost always loosing an arm for some reason) becomes a villain and wants revenge against the main character. In a story like this example, the character who became an amputee often views this new disability as something that has ruined their life. It's something that has caused them to suffer, and they want to make the main character (or whoever has "wronged" them) suffer like they did. Stories like this example portray disability as something that is not just horrible, but life-destroying, especially with villains who become all-consumed by the misery this disability has brought them. Many stories that utilise this version of the trope also often perpetuate the idea that if you become disabled, you'll have to give up all the things you love and your goals, even when this wouldn't necessarily be true for the character in question.

Let's say your character was a knight, and the main character cut off their arm in a training accident. obviously you can't be a knight with only one arm because you can't fight anymore, so they left their order. Now this character has become a villain and has found power that "makes up" for their disability, perhaps magic or some other force that doesn't exist in the real world, and are back to get revenge on the character for ruining their lives. Here's the thing though, the loss of a limb, or at least, the loss of an arm specifically, often isn't the career ender people think it is, even back then. In fact, there are many historical records of real amputees continuing to serve as knights and other similar military roles after loosing an arm or at the very least, continuing to fight in other ways. One such example was Götz of the Iron Hand, a mercenary knight who lost his arm to a cannon. Götz had fought as part of the Roman empire's military in 1498, but shortly after left to form his own mercenary company. He lost his hand in 1504 and continued his career as a mercenary with the help of an iron prosthetic capable of holding his sword and the reigns of his horse, among many other things such as writing, for another 40 years. Götz wasn't unique in this though, several suits of armour from the same time period have been found with integrated prosthetic hands, though the names of their owners are unknown. There was also Oruç Reis (aka Aruj Barbarossa), A privateer admiral who served the Ottoman Empire in and around the Mediterranean who lost his left hand - earning him one of many nicknames: Silver-Hand, thanks to the colour of his prosthetic. Oruç, like Götz, continued his career for several more years until he was eventually killed in 1518.

My point in bringing this up, is to highlight how important it is to double check that the reason your character's whole motivation for turning to villainy, isn't just based on your ideas about what a disabled person can or can not do. Actually double check it, research it, especially if it's important for your plot.

Even in the cases where the disability in question actually would stop someone from being able to do something, the incorrect assumptions can still occur and cause issues in different ways. For example, a character in a more modern setting who looses their arm due to an accident the main character was responsible for while serving in the military would be discharged, ruining the character's plan to become a general some day. This absolutely would be devastating for a character like that, and they realistically could struggle to adjust, both in terms of getting used to their disability and finding new goals for their life. They may well feel anger at the main character, however, if you are portraying just living with a disability, in the case of this example, living with an amputation as inherently "suffering" for no other reason than they are disabled, it is still perpetuating those really negative ideas about disability. I've said this a few times in other posts, but villains who are evil or even just antagonists purely because they're disabled or are trying to avoid becoming disabled is a trope all its own and one that is best avoided if you yourself aren't disabled, as even outside of spreading these negative ideas about life with a disability, it's just an overdone and overused trope.

But what about when this trope goes in the other direction? when you have an antagonistic or even just morally grey character who becomes disabled and this is the catalyst that turns them into a good guy?

For the longest time, I knew I usually disliked this version of the trope too, but I couldn't put my finger on why. With disability being the reason someone became a villain, the underlying reason it's there is often able to be boiled down to "I, the writer, think being disabled would be terrible and life like that is inherently suffering, so this character is angry about it," which is obviously an issue (the "inherently suffering" bit, not the anger). However, when a character becomes good due to becoming disabled, the reasoning is usually more along the lines of, "this is a big change in a character's life that has caused them to reconsider and revaluate things" (or at least, that's what I thought). This isn't bad, nor is it necessarily unrealistic. Hell, as I already said, I do consider my disability to be a catalyst that made me into who I am today. I also know plenty of people who, after becoming disabled later in life, did have a big change in how they viewed themselves and the world, and who consider themselves better people since becoming disabled. It's far, far from a universal experience, mind you, but it does happen. So why did this version of the trope still not sit right with me?

Well, I think there's a few reasons for it. The first being that there's a tendency for non-disabled people to think real disabled people are just incapable of evil deeds, both in the sense that they aren't physically capable of doing them (which is bad and not even always true for the reasons we already discussed), but also in the sense that there's this idea that disabled people are, for some reason, inherently more "good" and "innocent" - As if breaking your back or loosing a limb causes all evil and impure thoughts to be purged from the body. This is a result of many folks viewing disabled people as child-like, and thus attributing child-like traits (such as innocence) to them, even subconsciously. This is an incredibly common issue and something disability rights organisations are constantly pushing back against, as this mentality can cause a lot of unnecessary barriers for us. With how often I and many other disabled people are subjected to infantilization, I would be honestly shocked if it wasn't at least partially responsible for people thinking becoming disabled is a good reason to kick off a redemption arc.

This infantilization isn't unique to physically disabled people by the way, in fact it's way, way, more commonly directed at people with intellectual and developmental disabilities - or at least, people are more open about it, but as I already mentioned, how that is reflected in tropes like The Disabling Change of Heart is vastly different and deserves a post of it's own.

That's mostly just speculation on my part though, since that infantilising mindset does show up a lot in media, but not usually as part of this trope specifically.

However, it's not the only reason I wasn't a fan of it. When the disabling change of heart is used to fuel redemption arcs, I think, once again, that the disability itself being credited with causing the change directly is another factor. When this happens, it's usually because "it put things into perspective for me and showed me what really mattered."

This sounds better than our previous example on the surface, but stories that use this logic are often still portraying disability as an inherently bad and tragic thing, something so bad, in fact, that it makes all the other (legitimate) issues they thought were massive before seem so small by comparison. This is a type of inspiration porn: content made to make non-disabled people feel inspired or just better about their own situation. It's the mentality of "well my life is bad, but it could be worse, at least I'm not disabled like that!"

In a fictional story, this might look like an athlete character who dreamed of making it big so they could be famous and get out of poverty. They were a dick to anyone who got in their way but only because they were worried about not being able to make rent if they don't constantly win. One day though, they overworked themselves and got into a car accident on the way home because they were too tired, and now they're in a wheelchair and can no longer walk, which is (supposedly) absolutely tragic and way worse than anything else they were already going through. But they end up becoming a better person because it has put things into perspective for them. Yeah they were struggling to make ends meet, but at least they weren't disabled! Now that they are, they know they shouldn't have cared so much, because money doesn't matter when compared to not being able to walk, right?

As well as portraying disability in a negative light, these kinds of stories dismiss and diminish the other struggles or challenges the character is experiencing, placing the status of "not disabled" above all else.

There's also the fact that, when a lot of real people say their disabilities had positive impacts on their lives, they don't usually mean the disability itself is directly responsible for the change. There's exceptions of course but for myself personally, and most of the people I know who say they are better people because of/since becoming disabled, the disability has been more of a neutral catalyst than the actual cause of positive change. Meaning, it opened the door to allow those changes to happen, but it wasn't the direct cause. For me personally, becoming physically disabled at a young age didn't make me a nice person like people expect, I was still a little judgemental asshole for a lot of my childhood. However, because I was disabled, I had to travel a lot, initially because I needed medical treatment that my local hospital wasn't equip to provide, and later, because I started competing in disability sports. because of both of those things, I met people I never would have otherwise who made me reconsider what I'd been taught on a wide range of subjects, and made me question where those beliefs had come from in the first place. When I say my disability played a part in who I became, it wasn't because my disability itself change me, but it helped me meet people who were positive influences on me and my life. but when creatives make characters who experience arcs like this, they ignore this, again, defaulting to the "this was a bad thing that just put all my other problems into perspective" reasoning.

Some iterations of this trope also use disability as a kind of "karmic punishment" where the disability is portrayed as a rightfully deserved punishment for an evil character's deeds - usually something relating to the disability they acquired but not always. An example might look like an evil tyrant who punishes the rebels they captured by cutting off their hands. Eventually, this catches up with him, maybe the friend or a child of one of the rebels is able to capture the tyrant and cuts his hands off as payback so that he gets a taste of his own medicine, a taste of the suffering he imposed on others. Now facing at least one of the same realities of the people he subjugated, he realises the error of his ways. With some pressure from the main characters, he has a change of heart and surrenders himself, steps down to let someone else take his place, or perhaps he decides to start changing policies to be more in-line with these new morals until some other character usurps him, becoming an even bigger threat than the previous former tyrant.

Once again, stories that use a disability like this are still portraying the disability as an overall inherently bad thing, but there's the added layer at play in this example. The thing is, there are a lot of people in real-life who actually believe disability is a punishment from God. I remember one time when I was over in the US, an older lady came and sat down on the seat beside me on the bus and started asking me about my disability and specifically, how I became disabled. This isn't an unusual interaction, it happens fairly regularly whenever I use public transport, but on this particular day, the conversation suddenly shifted when I told her I became disabled when I was very young. This woman, despite the bus-driver's best efforts to get her to stop, ended up lecturing me for an hour and a half (during which time I couldn't move due to how my wheelchair was held in place) about how my disability was punishment from God for my parent's sins. She then tried to convince me to attend her church, claiming they would be able to heal me. And the thing is, this isn't an uncommon experience.

A lot of disabled people are targeted by cults using this same method: they'll convince people their disabilities are a punishment, make them believe they deserved it, that they just weren't good enough, but don't worry, if you repent and come to our specific church we can heal you. There was even a case in Australia recently that uncovered a cult called Universal Medicine, who taught that disabled people were reincarnations of evil people, and that being disabled in this life was their punishment, as well as that parents who have disabled children were being punished for other sinful behaviours. They were found to be operating a disability care service named Fabic that was being paid for by the NDIS, a subsection of the Australian government funded healthcare system that specifically aids disabled Australians by paying for and subsidising treatments, technologies (such as mobility aids) and other services relating to their disability. Fabic was found to be stealing excessive amounts of funding from their disabled clients under the guise of therapies and carer services, but was not actually helping their clients at all. Whether it's just taking advantage of them to get their money, or actually using this logic as a justification to mistreat them, this mentality of "disability is a punishment" actually gets real disabled people hurt or worse, and so seeing it come up in media, even if there is no ill-intent, can be very distressing and uncomfortable for disabled audiences.

So with all this being said, is the disabling change of heart a trope you should avoid in all it's forms and versions? No, but it does need to be handled with extreme care. I do think it should be avoided as a reason for a character becoming evil for the most part. If that really can't be avoided in your story though, at the very least, ensure that you foreshadow the change. Your happy little ray of sunshine, embodiment of sweetness and innocence type character probably isn't going to turn murderous and want revenge for an accident for example. A character who is likely to be driven to that kind of extreme of wanting revenge for their disability, so much so that they become a villain, probably already had at least a few traits that would predispose them to that line of thinking already, before becoming disabled. As for when it goes in the other direction, and you have a character becoming a good guy, avoid using the reasoning that "the disability put things into perspective for me". Instead, if you must use this version of the trope, use the character's new disability as the reason they encountered other people and situations that challenged their views, things they wouldn't have encountered otherwise. No matter the reason though, be very careful to avoid inspiration porn, and as always, try to find a sensitivity reader to give your story a once-over, just to make sure something didn't slip under your radar.

[Thumbnail ID: An illustrated image showing the same elf character twice. The picture of her on the left shows her laughing evilly, two tiny horns protruding through her brown hair. She is wearing a black dress and red shoes. On the right shows her in a yellow dress, sitting in a bright pink wheelchair with her head held eye and her eyes closed. The horns have been replaced with a glowing halo. In the centre is text that reads: "Disability Tropes: The disabling change of heart." /End ID]

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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ok what if reader is also a vigilante?

reader and Jason met in their civilian identities, and after a while they start dating. but like, neither of them tells the other one about their vigilante identities? and then something random happens and they both find out in a funny way?

(alsooo can I be 🐈‍⬛? :3)

Idk if this is considered ‘funny’ but I tired, oh and Yes, you may be 🐈‍⬛ anon. 🦦

When you first met Jason in the cosy book store, you were far too concerned with keeping your stint as a vigilante as close to a secret as possible, so much so that the mere aspect of dating wasn’t something you contemplated on a day to day basis; Never less dating a civilian when you’re fighting street level thugs. However you couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of his smile, his eyes and the way he ran his hand through his hair.

All you were aware in that moment was that Jason is just perfection in a six foot something frame. He was just that beautiful that you couldn’t find yourself looking away from him, ever; It had to be illegal to be that beautiful.

When Jason first met you in the cosy book store, trying to reach for a book that was just out of reach, he was far too concerned about the new vigilante that had taken to the street of Gotham. Nightshade was their name and they obviously had natural talent but were still sloppy in some areas, but they showed enough promise in their debut outing to be apart of the Outlaws. Dating was the last thing he needed honestly, despite affection, loyalty and love were something he deeply longer for more so then anything, however he felt a little tempted by the idea when you gave him a look of gratitude as he handed you the book was enough to set him alight.

‘Jason.’ He blurted.

‘Come again?’ You asked.

‘My name. It’s Jason.’ He clarified, internally cursing himself for making himself looking like a right idiot in front of you, but you just had that effect on him and it hadn’t even been ten minutes upon meeting you. Was he really that depraved? He asked himself as in that very moment you decided to smile at him, which gave him his answer that yes, he was indeed that depraved for a genuine connection. ‘Well it’s nice to meet you Jason. I’m y/n.’ You greeted, finding Jason absolutely endearing and insufferably cute. ‘Do you often help people with books or is it just a one time thing?’ You then asked, holding the book close to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I don’t come here as often as I promised myself I would, so consider this as a rare occurrence.’ Jason shrugged, leaning against the shelf. ‘So do you come here often or are you a fellow procrastinator?’ You chuckled and Jason has to pat himself on the back for that one. He managed to make you laugh and god did it sound ethereal. ‘I’m kinda a fellow procrastinator but that’s because I’ve been busy with life and such.’ You told him, not wanting to admit to everything to a conventionally attractive man you’ve just met at a small, run down book store just yet; You didn’t want to fuck this up for yourself.

‘Oh yeah? Then maybe if you come here more often, I’ll have more of a reason to stop by other than the books.’ Jason said and you felt your smile even wider and tighten your grip on the book, casting your eyes to the floor. Curse this beautiful man for making you feel like a silly little schoolgirl either way a crush, it was both embarrassing as it was all consuming. ‘Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, mr Jason.’

Jason shrugs. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I mean is it wrong for me to want to get to know you better?’

‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt.’ You admitted.

‘So it’s a date?’ Jason asked, anticipating your answer.

‘Yeah. It’s a date.’ You replied, feeling a warmth flood through your body, followed by a feeling of nervousness simultaneously it was hard to figure out which feeling you should focus on.

Several book store dates, skirting your obvious feelings for one another and moving into his apartment later, you and Jason were officially a couple: and a happy one at that. And yet despite sharing everything to one another, every deep secret you’ve ever kept in your entire life and yet the one secret neither of you chose to disclose was your vigilante identities, and for simple and justifiable reasons on both your parts; You didn’t want Jason to be brought into the crossfire as a casualty and Jason didn’t want you to get hurt because of the dangerous people he wronged as RedHood. You’ve both hated yourselves for keeping a tight lid on your vigilantism but you knew it was for the betterment of the other, after all ignorance was indeed -on some occasions- bliss.

However on this very night, everything you and Jason have ever hidden from the other had decided to come to light but not in a way that’d either of you were expecting.

You and Jason were cuddled up on the couch and enjoying a peaceful evening in together, seeing as for a week straight both of you have had your hands full with capturing and clearing the streets of Gotham of thugs, goons and drug dealers, and actually getting the golden opportunity to act like an ordinary couple and shower the other in the love and affection that you’ve both been aching for the entire week.

‘You need to get some better sleep Jaybirdie, I can see dark bags starting to form under your eyes.’ You mutter softly as you run your calloused thumbs under his eyes, naturally concerned for his health and well-being. ‘Are you saying that I’m not that appealing to look at anymore because I’m developing eye bags? How shallow of you babe.’ Jason joked as he moved his face from your hands and looking away from you with a pout on his lips.

You laughed, reaching to hold his face in your hands again and gently made him look at you. ‘Stop being dramatic my little Jay bird, I think you make eyes bags work for you but I just don’t like the idea of you staying up longer than you should.’ You said as you kissed his lips and then under his eyes, feeling him hum in content as he dragged you into him tightly. ‘I appreciate the compliment babe.’ He said as he pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in deeply. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had enough time with each other lately.’

You burrowed yourself deeper into him, hands clutching at his shirt. ‘it’s okay Jason and besides I should sorry too because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I hope you don’t hate me afterwards.’ You admit, scared that this might break your beautiful relationship with the sweetest man you’ve ever met, who had been nothing but unquestionably loyal to you through and through. ‘You could do no wrong pretty baby,’ Jason cooed, ‘but since we’re sharing things, I have something that I’ve been keeping from you also sweetheart.’ Jason said as he feared that he’d only be scaring you away afterwards and he can only hope that you’d stay and hear him out.

‘No, Jason you don’t-‘ you were cut off by the sound of two emergency alerts going off from your shared bedroom and before leaping off of Jason’s lap, much to his displeasure and worry, and rushed towards the bedroom with Jason hot on your heels going on about something you couldn’t quite make out over the noise of the emergency alerts. It was rare that it goes off and when it does, it’s when someone like scarecrow or Joker has made a reemergence to the public and when they do, nothin good ever comes to pass.

Within the depths of your shared closet in your bedroom were two equal sized duffel bags. Inside these duffel bags held everything to do with your vigilante personas that you and Jason had hastily shoved inside, and all before you officially moved into his apartment too. You never touched his out of respect for him and he never touched yours out of respect also, you both knew which one belong to who as they also sat just beneath your own civilians clothes, that and the fact that Jason’s duffel bag was a lot more beat up and rugged compared to yours which only had slight wears and tears; but other then that it was relatively a new bag.

Right of this moment however you didn’t stop to think about which bag you’ve picked up because before you knew it you had locked yourself within the bathroom, just about ready to change into your attire, when you were face to face with a familiar red helmet causing you to freeze in place. While you were trying to grasp the idea that your beautiful, beautiful Jason was the ruthless RedHood, a knock on the bathroom door broke you from your thoughts, and you automatically knew that Jason saw your vigilante attire and was feeling a similar sort of confusion towards you as you were about him. You placed the red helmet back into the duffle bag, zipped it shut before unlocking and opening the door wide enough for Jason to hold out your duffel bag towards you.

‘I believe this is yours sweetheart.’ He said awkwardly.

‘Thank you Jaybirdie.’ You mutter as you took the bag off of him, placing it down on the toilet seat as you picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him through the gap in the doorway. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’

‘Thank you sweetheart.’ Jason replied as he took the bag off of your hands as an uncomfortable air of silence followed as you both stood on either sides of the door, not knowing how to properly address the situation. Until… ‘I knew I recognise that ass in spandex anywhere.’

‘JASON!’ You exclaimed, face becoming flushed.

‘What? It’s true you’ve got a distinctly shaped ass! So of course I’m going to recognise it!’ Jason replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘So you’ve admitted to staring at my ass like a perv?’ You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason pushed the bathroom door open fully to get closer to you and hold your face in his hands. ‘Don’t start acting like you haven’t stared at my ass like a perv, perv.’ He says with a chuckle upon seeing the expression upon your face, pressing kisses from your forehead and all the way down to the tip of your nose. ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice.’ You murmur softly, making Jason laugh as he lead you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where he then sat you down on the end of the bed and held your hand.

‘Well unfortunately for you, I do notice and I can’t say I don’t like the attention that I’d get for my charming parent.’ Jason says as he kisses the back of your hand. ‘You’re not mad that I’m a vigilante and have been keeping it from you all this time?’ You asked, running your thumb over his hand. ‘No because it would be quite hypocritical if I did because I’ve been keeping the same secret hidden from you also. Would you be mad at me being RedHood?’ Jason asked and you immeditly replied ‘no because I know you did so to keep me safe.’

‘Ans I know that you didn’t tell me for the exact same reason.’ Jason butted in. ‘Now that we know however, this just means that we’re even more of a kick ass couple because we literally kick ass every night and I couldn’t be more prouder of you baby.’ He add as he presses kisses to your face, making you chuckle before pulling away. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop worry about my baby. So expect a whole lot of team ups in the future okay chipmunk?’ You pressed a kiss to his cheek before stealing one from his lips as you stood up from the bed, tugging at his arm. ‘Why don’t we start teaming up now? RedHood and Nightshade, they’ll never see us coming by a long shot!’ You said and Jason couldn’t help but smile at your excitement as he then stood up, groaning dramatically. ‘Alright, alright, quick pulling my arm and get changed so we can go catch us some bad guys.’

You beamed brightly as you stole another kiss from his lips. ‘I love you Jaybirdie.’

‘The things I do for you buttercup.’ Jason spoke against your lips as he kisses you again.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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chososluv · 5 months

Text

P L U G ! C H O S O

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: part 2 of PLUG!CHOSO because i love this pair so much (๑>◡<๑)~♡ ✎〰 word count: 3.1k

🏷 tags/warnings: fem!reader, reader has a vagina, weed dealer choso, reader is a big brat here!, choso gets kinda mean, brat!tamer choso, black coded, choso spending racks on youuuu, messy oral (male receiving), choso is whipped and back at it with his big size (height and cock) creaming, squirting, cervix hitting, deep throating, spanking, you cry a lil bc its so good, petnames and praises (ma, mamas), she's kinda proofread but subject to edit at any moment!

⋆🎧✮⋆mini playlist: ⤷ all mine - brent faiyaz ⤷ moonlight - kali uchis ⤷ on my mama - victoria monet ⤷ venus - dpr live

Plug!Choso and you blossom into a serious relationship. The man is committed to you and you knew how badly you had him wrapped around your finger. He would do anything for you at a drop of a dime if that meant your happiness in return, regardless whatever that meant from him. He didn't care. He always put you first.

Plug!Choso who sometimes has to put your spoiled ass in your place. He actually enjoys it and It wasn't like you didn't like it either, sometimes you pushed his buttons to see how much you could get away with before he had you sucking his cock or bent over the sink like a whore. You personally loved when you got to suck his cock as an apology, something about the weight of him on your tongue left you drunk and in a daze. . .

Which speaking of . . .

"Awh — you know how to make it up to me so good, ma." Choso moans, holding your hair back from your face. The sleek silk press you had gotten done made your hair bone straight for a change. Your attitude changed the moment you stepped out the salon chair, acting brand new and that's when you started testing Choso. He saw the way you stared at yourself longer in the mirror and tossed your hair extra dramatically as the day went on. Choso found it cute until that mouth of your started. Your mouth is what got you stuffed full of his cock in the first place.

It started when you went shopping after getting your hair done. You hadn't seen Choso in a while because between you working and with him "handling business," you rarely saw one another. Texts were becoming not enough for you and you just missed your man so bad. It got to the point where you only heard him a few times a day and that's when you began to really miss him. When he finally was finished and free from being tied up with business trips, he came back to you immediately. He was making it up to you by taking you on this shopping spree, but you couldn’t care less. You wanted to feel his girth on your tongue again, but you also wanted him to pay for leaving you alone all those weeks.

So, you decided to be an absolute brat.

Plug!Choso doesn't see it at first. He thought you were genuinely being moody with him until he noticed the longing stares and soft brushes against him. He realized then what game you were playing. He didn't mind though, he only ignored it until that mouth of yours started at the Prada store.

You had a pair of pumps on, staring at your feet in the mirror and you look over at Choso. You stared at him, seeing him consumed in his phone and you let yourself get annoyed. The one time he was not paying attention to you, and you rolled your eyes with a scoff. Choso looked up, seeing that nasty look on your face and he only raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?"

"Back on your phone again I see." You said snarkily and he clenched his jaw at your antics. You only turned around, humming nonchalantly before walking back to the shoe bench. Choso got up to follow you and he dropped to your feet before you can sit down. Even though you had just royally pissed him off, he was still being a gentlemen and tended to your needs. You bit your lip, feeling bad for snapping on him but you knew it was part of your game. He gently helped you out of the shoes before placing on another pair that he picked out for you. Delicately securing the straps, he stood up and loomed over you then he spoke.

"You may be my shawty but don't let that fucking mouth get you in trouble." He warned ever so silently so only you could hear. You gulped, pussy twitching at his threat but you stood your ground. You looked at him up and down before sneering.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes before looking down at your feet, shoes grabbing your attention. You walked over to the mirror, ignoring the glare you feel in the back of your head from Choso. You looked at your feet once more, inspecting the platform heel and deciding on which shoe you were going to get. You walked back over to the bench and Choso is already ready to peel the shoe off of you. He's still pissed, but he tried to hide his grin when you informed him that you were going with his pick over your own.

Plug!Choso who spent thousands of dollars on you despite being furious because he loves spoiling you. You two left the mall with multiple bags — Choso carried them all — and it safe to say you two had a successful shopping day. You two barely said a word to one another, sensing he's still mad about your attitude the whole day but you had your stomach in a knot ready for the repercussions when you two got home.

"You been a brat to me all fucking day." Plug!Choso would say after you two got settled in the bedroom. You were putting your shoes away before taking off your earrings as he griped at you and you rolled your eyes. You don't say anything and you place your earrings on your vanity. He scowled at you, seeing you rolled your eyes at him yet again and he only grinded his teeth together.

"Y/N." He cautioned to you in tone that rendered a warning yet again. You looked up from your vanity and to him, trying to muster sneer but you went blank when you saw the look on his face. You felt your lower belly tremble and spine tingle at that look he gave.

"Choso." You only tried to continue your facade but you were moments from breaking. Choso saw right through you the moment you had your stunt in the Prada store. You were testing him intentionally and he knew you only acted like this when you needed reminding of who you were actually fucking with.

And lucky for you he'd remind you all fucking night long.

"Do I need to remind you who fucking owns that pussy?" Choso exhaled from the blunt and you bite your lip. Your feel goosebumps up and down your arms and before you can stop yourself you're nodding.

"Maybe." You said.

"Fucking brat." Choso growled before getting up from the bed. He walked over to you, grabbing your face with one hand while the other held onto the blunt. He brought it to his mouth, inhaling as he watched your eyes glaze over with lust and a hint of submission. Your lips were so pouty and glossy, so pretty he almost forgot he was irate.

Keyword almost.

"Cho—" He exhaled and cut you off.

"Nah, don’t ‘Cho' me. you been acting like a brat all day because you want me to fuck you?" Choso's tone was fed up, "Use that pretty mouth of yours that's been mean all fucking day and ask." Oh he's really mad and your stomach is doing flip flops. You feel breathless and know there's an incoming pool of arousal about to drench your panties.

"Cho, please." He curtly inhaled and exhaled.

"Please what?" He glared at you and ran a thumb across your bottom lip. You fight the urge to close your mouth around it and suck.

"Remind me who owns this pussy." You beg, hands reaching out to grab at the gray sweats he changed into. Your fingers were undoing the strings eagerly. He smirked, inhaling from the blunt one last time before ashing it. He decided you're worth his attention and he releases your face from his hold. You missed the warmth from his hands as he walked over to the edge of the bed before pulling his cock out. He sits down, stroking the semi-hard length and causing your mouth to water. You bit your lip as he beckoned you over.

"Come put that mean ass mouth to work first."

And that's how you ended up sucking his cock as an apology.

His length is so filling to have in your mouth. The weight of it, the pretty tip, the soft musk of him, you love everything about having his cock in your mouth. Not to mention the cussing and soft moans that left his mouth above you. You look up, seeing him chewing on his bottom lip. His nose is scrunched up and it highlights those piercings you just adore on him. His pretty nose ring, and now the recently added septum ring you convinced him to get along with you one day. Couple's piercings! You proclaimed, followed with that he would be hot with it along with his nose ring. However you were wrong.

He's so fucking handsome with it.

And with his hair growing out, it frames his face beautifully. He was an adonis falling apart at your own mouth and will. You continue sucking around him, soft hands massaging his balls too and his thighs twitch. He moans, hand pushing on your head as his hips bucked up. You gag around him, rubbing your thighs together as you took more of him in you. Your nose is touching his pelvis and he curses. You continue your apology, releasing him from your mouth after holding him snug in your throat. You gasp, soft giggle occuring. A string of spit connects from Choso's tip to your lips and you bring a finger to your lips, taking the lewd line and lining it with your palm. You take that same palm and wrap it around Choso's length. With your wet hand, you jerk it, finding oxygen in your lungs after recovering from that explicit deep throat. You eye at your work, tip angry red and vein on the underside growing thick.

Your cunt clenched around nothing as you moaned at the sight. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at Choso who stares at you with hooded eyes. His breathing is ragged as he slowly continues to chase after his high.

"Fuck, mama making me almost forget what I was mad at you for." He chuckles, then sighing at the sound of you giggling from between his legs. His praise makes you learn forward, kissing his tip and then tucking him back in your mouth. You suckle, feeling a pebble of cum trickle down your throat. You remove your mouth after swallowing.

"You taste so good." You moan, looking as you tap the head of his cock against your bottom lip. He moans, eyebrows scrunching as his grip tightens on your hair. He watches you kiss on his tip before opening your mouth. You slide your lips down, looking at him through your eyelashes as you continue to take more of him in your mouth.

"Fuck, y/n." Choso moans, hips bucking up as more precum dribbles out and mixes with your saliva. You hum around his shaft, tongue swirling as you lick along the underside. The fat vein is beating against your tongue and you moan at the feeling, cunt continuing to clench around nothing. You're bobbing your head, hand covering what you couldn't as he continued to curse and fuck your mouth. You remove your mouth after a few seconds, gasping for air, and jerking Choso softly in your hand. You lean down, kissing the underside before sinking down to spit noisily. The liquid landed on his balls and you brought a hand down to massage it in. He groans, hand pulling on your hair at the sensation and you remove your hand to replace it with your plush lips, suckling on his balls salaciously. You savor his musk and taste on your tongue before traveling from his balls back to his shaft and to the tip. You look at Choso, watching him watch your every move.

Nothing prepared him for what you were about to do.

You filthily gathered the spit and cum in your mouth, making Choso watch it fall tantalizingly slow from your lips to the tip. The mixture landing on his slit and your mouth chasing after it, warm mouth back on his cock. You swirl the mixture around your tongue and his shaft, moaning around him. Choso doesn't bother to fight the moan that leaves his lips. He decided enough was enough before he came down your throat.

"Shit," He pulls you off of him by your hair. You moan, letting his cock fall out your mouth and saliva running all down your chin. You look up at him with a fucked out grin, "you done being a brat, baby?"

"Yeah, Cho." You smile, reaching forward to kiss the underside of his dick and he hisses. He tenderly caresses your cheek before speaking.

"Get up here and put this pussy on me."

Plug!Choso who ends up taking you doggy. You're whimpering as his fat cock hits those spots you desperately craved to be touched these past two weeks. Each time he's entering you, you're moaning lewdly and chanting desperate pleas and praises. You're struggling to form words and between moans you're gasping, breathless inhales from each primal stroke from Choso. He is groaning and slapping his broad hands over your ass to earn cries from you each time.

"Cho—So!" You're whimpering, sliding into a slutty arch and he curses, slapping your ass yet again. Your pretty skin starts to manifest a crimson palm print.

"Fucking sexy as fuck with that arch, mama. Keep that shit for me." He presses a hand into your shoulder blade, helping you maintain it as he continues to pound into you. Tears are forming at your ducts at how good he is fucking you. You needed this for weeks and you were finally feeling it. That tingle in your stomach was increasing and you felt it traveling to the walls of your cunt.

"So big, baby I'm gonna—” You can't even finish your words and you're spraying messily all over him, yourself, and the sheets. He pulls out, rubbing a thick fingers over your cunt and continuing to milk you dry as you cry into the pillow. Your thighs are shaking pitifully but Choso doesn't stop. He only slides his cock right back in and you to let out a scream.

“Yeah," he's chuckling at you, "tell me how good I’m breaking this mean ass pussy.” Choso taunts, slapping your ass cheek yet again and the sting is rampant and so raw. Those tears from your eyes spill and you’re sighing in pleasure when his tip kisses those spots in you again.

“Choso, I’m so sorry.” You whimper and his broad frame leaning over you. He sees the tears running down your face and he moves a hand to catch them. His warm fingers wipe the tears away and he smiles tenderly at you for the first time since fucking. Your stomach flutters with butterflies when you see that soft dom side emerge. How could he not change the pace when his pretty baby was so pitifully ruined? He wanted to scoop you up in his arms right then and there.

“Awh, baby I forgive you,” Choso leans down, bringing his lips to your ear, “did I fuck that stank ass attitude away?” Choso voice sent tingles down your spine and he feels you clench around him at his words. He rolls his hips against your ass and you nod.

“Yes, Cho.” You whimper. He smiles, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Good, turn over and let me see that pretty face cum.”

Plug!Choso is so in love with you. He’s on his hunches, holding your waist off the bed as he pistons into you. The brute curve of his dick hitting that tender spot causes you to continue to be consumed with pleasure. Instead of tears, there was a fucked out look of pleasure on your face. He soaks in the sight of you sporting a dumb smile.

"Cho—so big I'm gonna cum." Between his mean words earlier, you sucking on his cock, and his immaculate stroke game, you were seconds away from entering that abyss of euphoria. It wasn't a surprise to him at all. He knew this was something you had anticipated all day -- to be fucked stupid by him. Choso only smiles, continuing to fuck deep into you.

"I know mama that pussy so creamy and tight around me." Choso says, seeing the creamy ring around his cock. Not only that, but your pussy clung to him everytime he tried to leave, not wanting to be void of his thick presence and attempting to entice him to stay. If he could, he would live the rest of his life between your plush thighs and hot, wet walls. His cock only seemed to be made for the way you were shaped and he fought cumming deep in you at the way your walls pulsed around him.

"Cho — cumming!" You cum, the feeling sneaking up on you before you knew it. You threw your back into an arch, wailing as the last batch of tears escape your eyes. You submit, allowing the bliss overtake your body and hijack your senses. Succumbing, your pussy squirts and it catches Choso's attention. He also sees your hardened nipples and pretty orgasm face and he allows himself to join you. He moans, letting his cock swell before pumping you full of his cum he'd been saving for you. You sigh, shuddering as you try to find yourself out of the white hot tension as Choso lays on top of you. His warmth shields you from all things negative and you mewl, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He chuckles sleepily before kissing your shoulder.

"You good, ma?" He asks and and you hum, locking your legs around him to keep his cock in you as you rejoin reality. You feel him softly twitch inside you.

"Mhmm, just hold me, Cho." You dramatically sigh, placing your face back in the crock of his neck and he only laughs. He kisses your shoulder yet again, causing you to sigh and relax fully in his arms. He smiles against your skin and continues to hold you till your thighs stopped shaking.

"I love you and your bratty ass you know that?" Choso says after you two cleaned up. You're curled into him, head on his comforting chest as he smokes the blunt from earlier. You hum, in a post sex daze that solely begs for a nap. You feel your eyelids growing heavy against your will and you only snuggle closer into him.

"I love you and when you put me in my place. So good." You say as exhaustion takes over all your senses and you yawn. Your mind falls blank, eyes shutting, but you hear Choso's next words loud and clear.

"And don't you forget it either, ma."

©chososluv ╰┈┈➤Plug!Choso ╰┈┈➤MASTERLIST!

#i am a enby of my word n i strike again w some plug!choso !!!#𝐑𝐈𝐕.𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #also im tipsy posting this so this is def subject to be edited it but heres my baby to the world!#𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄:🍓𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 #plug!choso #kamo choso #kamo choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso x reader

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twstowo · 3 months

Note

Hi person who asked about part 2 of 'True loves kiss' just though of something else to it where true loves kiss wasn't the cure.

Sorry that I sent 2 ask, I literally just thought of this after I sent it. Sorry again mate.

♡︎I loved writing this so much! This is really long because I got excited and couldn’t stop typing.

♡︎Includes: Housewardens and Jamil

♡︎Warning: Angst

♡︎First part

⋆⋅☆Riddle

For days, he had been consumed by the task of brewing a potion to break the sleeping spell that had befallen you. Despite the absence of romantic feelings reciprocated, he considered you a dear friend and couldn't leave you in such a state. However, the process took its toll on his mood, turning him less tolerant of those around him in Heartslabyul. Collaring people became an automatic response to his heightened stress, a reflection of the turmoil brewing within him as he fought with studying and contemplating your unreciprocated feelings.

His efforts took an unexpected turn when Ace rushed towards him, delivering the news that the spell binding you couldn't be broken with a love kiss. The revelation sent Riddle into a state of emotional disarray. Could this mean there was still a chance that you harboured feelings for him? He clung to that glimmer of hope, even if small.

As your eyes gradually opened, he tried to maintain a calm demeanour in your presence. However, any uncertainty about your feelings evaporated at that moment, for the enamoured gaze you directed at him, as the first thing you saw after a prolonged slumber, provided all the answers he ever needed. In that moment, he bends down and hugs you, catching you off guard with the sudden show of affection.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Leona

Ruggie had had enough of Leona, and it seemed everyone else felt the same way. Leona's glare was enough to send people running. He locked himself in his room, skipping classes, and ignoring Ruggie's attempts to snap him out of it. Every time Ruggie told him to move on from you, Leona just got angrier, as if it hadn't crossed his mind before. But erasing your face, your voice, and the moments you spent together turned out to be tougher than he thought.

When Ruggie shared the news that the sleeping spell on you couldn't be broken with a true love's kiss, Leona didn't react. He told Ruggie once again to leave him alone, burying himself even deeper in uncertainty about your feelings.

After you woke up, Ruggie briefed you on everything, and you decided to visit Leona and get him out of his room. As you walked in, you heard his annoyed voice, thinking you were Ruggie coming to annoy him. But when you told him you loved him and took a seat on his bed, he quickly pulled you into his arms. The two of you spent the rest of the day there, finding comfort in each other's company.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Azul

Days had passed since you woke up, and Azul, dealing with the aftermath of unrequited love, tried making a potion to wake you up. He promised himself to cut ties with you, but it was hard to forget, especially when Floyd and Jade kept stopping your attempts to talk with him. This left him alone to think about how desperate you seemed when the kiss he had given you proved all he needed to know. He struggled with the idea that maybe, like others, you were only interested in his favours and wealth.

However, one day a teacher mentioned casually that the sleeping spell on you couldn't be broken with a kiss. This hit Azul hard, making him reconsider the possibility that you might have loved him all along, remembering all the times you had tried to tell him your feelings, only for Floyd and Jade to push you away from him.

Without wasting time, Azul ran to find you. Anyone watching would hardly recognize the composed Azul Ashengrotto in the frantic figure racing through the corridors. When he saw you, he was left speechless. You looked hurt, and he understood why, by the Seven, you had all the right to be even mad with him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he held onto your shoulders, asking for forgiveness over and over, making a mess out of himself in front of you, and when you hugged him and said it was okay, it brought a rush of happiness he hadn't expected.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Kalim

After waking up with a potion, Kalim continues treating you the same way as always. He invites you to parties and talks with you every day, and the two of you become inseparable again. It's only when you decide to express your love for Kalim, in which he immediately reciprocates, that Jamil intervenes wanting to speak with you in private.

Jamil, who had never seen you as a threat to Kalim before, now seems to think that your confession and the failed kiss might indicate ulterior motives, possibly tied to Kalim's wealth. This misunderstanding creates confusion, as you genuinely hold feelings for Kalim, and you're left perplexed as to why the kiss didn't work.

The situation gets untangled when you and Jamil discover that a true love kiss could have never awakened you. Despite this revelation, when Kalim learns of it he remains unfazed and continues to treat you with the same kindness and warmth. You're torn between being thankful for his understanding and worried about how nonchalant he is about the whole situation.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jamil

Every moment after you woke up turned into torture for him. He knew that every act of kindness you directed at him was purely platonic, and he despised it because he had fallen hard for those gestures before, mistaking them for romantic interactions. Whether you clung to his side while talking, helped him with cooking preparations, or focused your attention on him in the presence of Kalim, it tore him apart. The desire to tell you to go away and leave him alone overwhelmed him, but he also knew that if he did, Kalim would eventually invite you to hang out, forcing him to witness the two of you being friendly. It was especially painful because he wished it were him with you instead of Kalim.

One day, he overhears you talking to Kalim about him, and to his surprise, you express your intention to confess your feelings to him. Anger bubbles up in him – does he look like a fool to you? He's well aware that you don't see him in that way. When you gather the courage to confess your love, he quickly calls you out, leaving you with his cold words echoing in your head. Your heart shatters, and you swear to never see him again.

However, everything changes when he learns that the spell you were under could never be broken with a kiss. This revelation means that you did love him when you confessed, and he's left conflicted. Though you occasionally cross paths in school hallways or during Kalim's invitations, you avoid making eye contact with him. It takes Kalim's insistence to push him to approach you in Ramshackles and fully explain himself. As he deeply apologizes for everything, you find it hard to stay mad, understanding the depth of his feelings. Eventually, you let him in, allowing the two of you to spend some time alone and clear the air.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Vil

After you wake up, Vil decides to make you fall for him. Just because he wasn't your true love before the sleeping spell doesn't mean he can't become that with time. You notice him becoming nicer, always kissing your hand when you meet, inviting you over more frequently, and Rook occasionally delivering bouquets of your favourite flowers, claiming they were ordered by Vil. It leaves you in an embarrassed mess, as it becomes evident that Vil has feelings for you.

Over time, Rook overhears that the sleeping spell could never be broken with a kiss. He hastily informs Vil, who sees it as an incentive to make things official with you.

The next time you meet is at Pomefiore, in a dimly lit room with only a table and two chairs. Vil has arranged what he intends to be the most romantic dinner of your life. When he expresses his love for you, he wants the moment to be etched into your memory forever.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Idia

He finds himself confined to his room for the next few weeks, and not even Ortho can pull him out of the depressive episode he's plunged into. When he finally gathers the strength to leave his bed, he meticulously packs away all the little gifts you gave him in a plastic bag. Deleting your conversations on every platform, blocking you, erasing your character in The Sims 4 (whom he had married to his own), and moving his Minecraft bed away from yours, he goes to great lengths to sever all ties. He can't believe he allowed himself to believe that you truly loved him. Having opened up to you and shared his personal lore, he feels played and betrayed.

Ortho reaches a point where he has to break down his door, informing him about the spell not being broken with a kiss, just to get him to stop sulking in the corner. However, now that he's aware of the truth, he doesn't know how to proceed. Ignoring you for so long, he assumes you must hate him.

It takes Ortho's intervention once again to call you and explain Idia's situation for you to visit him. You had noticed being blocked and the removal of his Minecraft bed, but the sudden distance was a mystery. Upon finding him lying on the floor, you talk to him about everything. You also take the opportunity to express your love, leaving Idia frozen in place. A pink hue surrounds the two of you as his hair becomes the only source of light in the room.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Malleus

He decides to wake you up with his magic after Lilia suggests it as the best course of action, even if his love remains unrequited. He attempts to distance himself from you, finding it challenging and painful when you approach, casually chatting with Silver, Sebek, and even Lilia, greeting him with the soft smile he adores. Unable to contain his emotions, he finally confronts you, questioning why you don't love him. You're taken aback, attempting to explain your genuine feelings for him, but he dismisses you as a liar, teleporting away with a thunderous echo.

Weeks pass without any communication, until Silver enlightens him about the sleeping spell, explaining that a kiss wouldn't break it and that was the reason you didn't wake up with his kiss.

Upon hearing this revelation, he rushes to find you near Ramshackles. He pleads for your attention, kneeling in front of you, asking for forgiveness and professing his deep love. Watching the heartfelt scene unfold, you eventually take him into a hug, and the two of you remain locked in that embrace, reluctant to let go.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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barefoothighlander · 11 months

Note

The way you write ghost and like a specific reader is so good it has me going insane, on that I just read the cottage one where Simon admits to himself he loves sweet things and would it be possible to get a baker reader x Simon, with him often comming because he's hooked on their desserts but also how fine they are

something sweet

this is possibly one of my FAV tropes, thank you!!

warnings: fluff, gn pronouns, mutual pining, mentions of food throughout, ooc!ghost, kissing, not proofread

People always assumed Ghost ate purely for nutrients, the majority of the meals he consumed on base or in the field involving all four food groups, centred on protein. The truth was he had to stop himself every day from eating entire sleeves of cookies, his favourite being the bourbon biscuits that his mum used to buy.

He had an insatiable sweet tooth, always having loads of sugar in his tea, sneaking into the mess late at night to steal sweets from the kitchen, if you were to search his pockets you’d find wrappers for candy littered throughout them.

He was less restrained when he came home, often buying some sort of treat to pair with his tea when he’d visit a cafe, he’d gone for a walk that morning and decided to explore a few shops, stumbling across a bakery that he’d never been into.

It wasn’t even a question of should he go in, the scent of baked goods wafting from the open door as he looked through the window, trays lined with pastries and cakes, he was practically salivating at the sight of them.

He felt out of place in the cafe, his eyes falling in various couples having coffee together, a few others set up with their laptops as they picked at their food.

“What can I get for you?”

He didn’t intend for the interaction to be awkward, he’d never stumbled over his own words but the sight of you, hair messy, sleeves rolled up, a mess of flour sprinkled over your apron as your wide eyes and bright smile looked back at him had him frozen.

“You look like a tea guy, earl grey?”

How could you possibly know that? He moves closer to the counter, doing his best to make his stride less intimidating as he approaches you.

“How’d you know?”

“Get a lot of customers, I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing what people like”

Heat flushed his cheeks under his balaclava, his eyes nervously moving from your face to the display beside him.

“What do you recommend”

You follow his line of sight, pursing your lips as you think over the options,

“The muffins are good, chocolatines are a favourite, personally I’m partial to the biscuits”

“Which kind?”

“Bourbons are my favourite, the empires are a close second”

He hums in response, “Those are my favourite”

“You have good taste”

He moves his gaze back to you, “I like to think so”

You huff a small laugh, your fingers tapping against the counter as you lose yourself for a moment in his dark eyes.

“So earl grey and some bourbons”

“Sounds perfect”

You swallow a lump in your throat, biting back a smile as you move to collect his order, you toss a few biscuits into the bag, placing the tea bag in a cup before pouring the hot water on top, capping it and handing the pair to him.

“I threw in a few other things I thought you’d like”

“That’s very kind”

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the items from you, the contact making the hairs on your neck stand up. You drop your gaze nervously, smoothing your hair before turning back to him,

“Have a nice day” You stop your sentence abruptly, your eyes squinting slightly at him,

"Simon"

"Have a nice day Simon"

It was less than 24 hours before he was back, strutting through the front doors, oblivious to the various shared glances between other customers, his sights dead set on you.

"Back so soon?"

"How'd you know?"

"Know what?"

"Those extras you gave me yesterday, that raspberry thing and those little chocolates, how'd you know I'd like them"

"I didn't really, just a guess, they're my favourites"

"You have good taste"

"I'd hope so, I'm the one that makes them"

In a moment of realization, he looks around, there's no one else behind the counter, no noises from the kitchen, it really is just you there.

"You own the shop"

"For two years now"

"That's impressive"

You tilt your head down to hide the flush on your cheeks, smiling, "I have something for you"

"You made me something?"

"Was hoping you'd be back"

It's his turn to hide his face, even behind his mask he's scared you'd see the pink tint to his skin, the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, you push a small tray toward him, a cup of tea paired with an assortment of treats.

"I am supposed to stay in shape"

"C'mon, try them" You nudge the tray a little closer

"Only if you eat them with me"

"Deal"

You turn to grab an extra fork, resting your elbows on the table as you portion off a piece of the small pastry in front of you, careful to create the perfect bite,

"Wait, you need to get some of the jam"

"You're telling me how to eat?"

"It has to be perfect"

You use your fork to push some jam onto his piece, nodding to yourself in satisfaction, he takes a quick glance behind him to see if anyone is watching before lifting his mask just slightly, revealing his lips, your eyes linger on them for a little too long, the soft arch of them, their plush pink tint.

"This is amazing"

His praise breaks your trance, your hand covering your mouth as you smile, hiding the food inside it, "I told you"

"You're right, I'll never doubt you again"

You let out a giggle and this time he can't hide his smile, a small dimple forming beside his lips as they curve, you could watch him smile all day.

"This might be strange but, what are you doing later," You ask with a breath of confidence,

"Working off all this sugar you're feeding me"

"What about you skip the workout and meet me here at seven?"

"I'd like that"

You bite back a smile, "Great"

You pack the remaining treats in a small bag, handing it to him before bidding him goodbye, your senses focused solely on him, completely ignorant of the line of customers forming in front of your eyes.

It's a panicked few hours around the cafe, rushing to fill orders, tidying the kitchen, and attempting to find time to fix yourself up before Simon arrived.

The bell atop the door rang at 6:53, apparently, he was insistent on being early, he calls out for you, your voice echoing from the kitchen as he makes his way behind the counter.

"Hey, you're early"

"You're a mess" His eyes scan over your flour-clad form, your hair a mess as your palms dig into a circle of dough.

"Had to get some orders done before tomorrow, wanna help?"

"Not sure how good I'll be"

"Please, I could use your muscles"

"Alright," He rolls his sleeves up his arm, revealing his tattoo before reaching behind him to grab an apron, securing it around his form. You erupt in a fit of laughter as you turn your gaze to him,

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing just, never pictured you in an apron covered in tulips and daisies"

"You saying it looks bad?"

"No, you look perfect," You say, fighting back your laughter, "Okay, grab a piece and start pushing it with your palms, just like this" You demonstrate the move to him, his curious eyes watching intently as you knead the dough, sprinkling bits of flour on it.

"Got it" He places a circle of dough on the table, dropping some flour onto it before digging his palms in, quickly turning to you with worried eyes as his hand forces a hole in the centre.

"Maybe not so tough, try like this" You position yourself next to him, your sides pressing against each other as you rest your hands atop him, guiding them into the dough, your gentle fingers intertwining with his.

"Got it?"

He shakes his head lightly, "I think you need to show me again"

You laugh lightly, the sound warming his chest as you slowly release your touch, urging him to work, "That's better, I have to make some icing so I'll be over there for a minute"

You move from his side, wiping your hands on your apron before standing in front of the large mixer, he watches as you struggle to lift the large bag of powdered sugar, dropping his task to help you. He lifts the bag with ease, watching as you release a small breath of gratitude,

"Wait not all at... once" Your instructions come too late, he dumps the entire bag into the bowl, a cloud of sugar enveloping the room as you drop your head in laughter.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know"

You raise your hands, palms to the roof as you smile, "It's okay, kinda looks like snow"

"Kind of"

His gaze softens as you close your ears, tilting your neck back and slightly sticking your tongue out, allowing the sugar to settle on the muscle, the sweetness dancing over your tastebuds.

You smile, lifting your head back up and opening your eyes, he's watching you with such adoration in his eyes, his heart swelling out of his chest, he'd never met anyone that maintained such a wonder in themselves, you were so warm, so kind, he'd always been punished for mistakes but the sight of you unknowingly creating a happy memory out of one of his mishaps has his brain rewiring.

He doesn't think, just reaches for you, one hand lifting his mask while the other grabs at your waist, tugging you into him, his lips crash into yours as if his addiction to sweets wasn't enough, you literally tasted like sugar, he couldn't get enough. His free hand moving to cup your jaw, his thumb swiping over the skin as you press yourself into him, your gentle hands settling around his arms as he holds you close.

It's intoxicating, his taste, his scent, tobacco, vanilla, and sugar, you had managed to escape the consequences of a sweet tooth until now, this was a taste you'd never get sick of.

He pulls back with a heavy breath, his chest rising against yours as he rests his forehead against yours, that beautiful smile beaming back at you as your flesh ignites under his touch.

"Kiss me like that again and I'll give you all the baked goods you want"

He lets out a laugh, a genuine laugh, one he hasn't heard in years before pressing his lips to yours again, smiling against your skin as the sugar settles around the two of you, cloaking the room in a soft white dust.

#cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley fluff #mw2022 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader

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sweatervest-obsessed · 7 months

Text

You're Keeping Me Down

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her)

WC: ~5.8k

TW: mentions of trauma, mentions of Maeve, kissing, previous relationships, swearing, alcohol, so much crying, bad decisions, girlbossing

A/N: ayo....angsty teehee. I hope y'all like it! It's a sequel to Dedicated to New Lovers and was inspired mainly by Sara Bareilles's Gravity, some Harry Styles, and other sad songs. I hope y'all enjoy it!! I really do love reading all of your comments, and tags, and feedback because it makes me so happy to know you guys are enjoying the writing!! <3

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~Maya Angelou

Something always brought you back to Doctor Spencer Reid. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you fought it, something about the universe could not keep you away from him for too long.

It was like the two of you were attached at opposite ends of a string, always pulling you towards one another, ignoring whatever you had been feeling beforehand.

There was nothing you could do to escape him. You had tried traversing the globe, studying in Greece and Turkey, or taking vacations in the most remote villages of China; you had even done a two-week expedition traveling to Antarctica. But somehow, some way, Spencer Reid stayed in the back of your mind.

Sometimes, it was like he was right next to you. You could still feel him next to you in your bed, or if you were alone in your car, your hand was absently reaching toward the passenger seat, only to feel the leather and not his leg.

Maybe it was because all of those stupid little facts he had spouted to you were resting in the back of your mind, popping up when you’d come across anything he would have told you about.

It was something you missed. He would just ramble on about anything to you, watching the joy on his face as he continued to speak, so grateful to have an audience, to have someone who cared. But you’d have to remind yourself that Spencer chose her as his audience instead of you.

Her.

The guilt of Maeve’s death followed you around more than Spencer did. At first, it was anything to do with therapists. The thought of choosing someone to speak to outside of your circle was a betrayal you had felt, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Then it was your distrust of your friends, watching as they became less and less frequent in your life.

Work was all-consuming. You knew this fact well. Being one of the top profilers in the FBI meant that news of your transfer went fast, and the job offers came even quicker. But you decided to take some time off to rediscover the girl you once knew, someone outside her job.

The BAU was simply your life for the past eight years. You worked at the BAU, you dated inside of the BAU, and your friends were all within the BAU–It was honestly a joke that it all had decided to come crumbling down once you felt secure in your life, in your job, in your relationship.

You had filed the paperwork that allowed you to take two months of paid leave, not to leave the department. Your social media suddenly became filled with images of Ancient Greek monuments, Italian Vineyards, the French and Swiss Alps, and cities you once only visited in your wildest dreams.

Escaping reality was the best way to rediscover who you are. And so you tried.

When you returned from your two months, you had walked into the BAU bullpen and straight to Hotch’s office. Your skin was tanner, and your hair was a bit lighter from all of the sun. You were suddenly this confident woman again, but you weren’t who you were before, making you nearly unrecognizable.

“Y/N, please come in.”

You smiled warmly at Hotch, giving him a quick hug.

“You look good. How were your travels?”

You smiled and leaned against the wall, not wanting to sit since that meant you would be here longer than you wanted.

“It was everything I needed it to be, Hotch .” You nodded to the file on his desk with your name on it. “I take it Garcia ‘accidentally’ discovered my file and decided to drop it off?”

Hotch sighed and opened the file, looking over at you. “Of course she did. I thought you were just transferring after your leave; I didn’t know you were leaving the Bureau entirely.”

You nodded, a sad smile making its way onto your face.

Hotch looked at you, replicating the same sad smile.

“I wanted to tell you in person since I didn’t want you to find out via paperwork, but I should have known to come to your office first and then file it instead of filing it on my way to your office.”

A soft chuckle passed through Hotch’s lips as he nodded. “We’re going to miss you more than before, Y/N.”

“I won't be gone forever, Hotch. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I know.” He rounded the desk, giving you a quick hug, arm on your shoulder. “You have my number.”

You gave him a quick smile, nodding, “Don’t worry, Jack will still be getting weekly updates about my travels, and expect a box of goodies occasionally. I have to uphold my reigning title of the coolest aunt ever.”

As you left Hotch’s office, you didn’t notice Spencer at the coffee station. You didn’t see as he watched you quickly drop a note off on Emily’s desk and another on Derek’s desk before stepping into the elevator for the last time for the next two years.

You didn’t notice the heartbreak in his eyes, and you didn’t notice the fact that he had overheard as you told Hotch you weren’t coming back to the FBI at all.

But somehow, you found yourself back in that same elevator, visitor badge clipped to the new dress you had received as a gift from a friend during your month-long stay in India last year. The fabric draped across your body, highlighting how beautiful your curves were, and the colors brought out this newfound radiance in your skin, your eyes, your smile...

Color was the newest development in your life. The BAU meant that everything was in professional shades of blue, black, white, or maybe a subdued purple or green if you felt risky. But suddenly, your wardrobe burst through the rainbow as you experimented with patterns and shades, basking in this newfound joy beyond the world of suits.

Eighteen months of experimenting–with life, with colors, with places you called home, with love.

You had two brief “love affairs” as Garcia lovingly called them. One was only two weeks long, but the other was a few months. Yet both were missing something special and could barely converse with you. Maybe that was how Spencer felt. And the sex wasn’t all that great either.

And yet, after Eighteen months, an award, four nominations, a cat, a mediocre short-term relationship, and one groundbreaking dissertation that led to a Ph.D. later, you found yourself back in that damned elevator.

You inhaled sharply as you heard the tiny ding, doors opening up to a sight that made your stomach twist. It was truly bittersweet to be back, to visit the place that once carried everything in your life, and to have it be so foreign to you.

But what was not so foreign was how one Derek Morgan looked up as the door opened and his eyes filled to the brim with light.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He dropped his file on his desk and met you in the middle of the side aisle of the bullpen, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “My woman.” He muttered into your hair, giving you an extra squeeze before pulling away slightly.

“What’s up, sexy.” You laughed, thrilled to hear he hadn’t changed too much while you were away.

“I’m sexy? Have you seen yourself recently?” He laughed, and you gave him a twirl, eager to show off one of your favorite dresses. “And where did you get this? Wait, wait, let me guess.”

You pursed your lips, failing to hide the smile that was beaming across your face.

“Was it your time in Taiwan? No no…Pakistan?”

“So close. India. Maybe next time, champ.” You patted his arm, turning your head at the gasp behind me.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, world traveler extraordinaire?”

“JJ, you saw me three days ago.”

JJ pulled you into a hug. “Yeah, over Facetime,” she grumbled, not even trying to pretend she was upset at the sight of you in person. “You seriously have to stop sending Henry so much stuff.”

“Some of it is for the other one, too.” You muttered to her, knowing she wasn’t fully public with her pregnancy at the BAU just yet.

“I’ll be right back, I promise, I just have to say hi to Hotch first.” You placed your hands on their arms, turning towards Hotch’s office. As you went to knock on the door, it opened, leaving you face to face with the only person you weren’t ready to confront just yet.

“Hi.” He breathed out.

And fuck you, he looked so good.

“Hi, Spencer.”

You watched as a wave of emotion rippled across his face. His name almost tasted weird in your mouth, not something you’ve often said in the two years apart.

“I’ll, um..” He moved to step out of the way, letting you maneuver into Hotch’s office.

But you had also tried to move, causing you and Spencer to almost collide, causing his hand to barely grace your waist. A spark flew through your skin at the thought of his touch, causing goosebumps up and down your body.

You both muttered an apology, eyes not leaving the other until you quickly moved into Hotch’s office, causing him to move back, still watching as you closed the door in his face.

While you spoke to Hotch, catching up, Spencer was down in the bullpen at his desk, barely even trying to move them away from the windows.

JJ and Derek stood around his desk, looking from the office to Spencer and back again.

“She’s back.” He said simply when Kate approached them, wondering why they were all standing around, staring at Hotch’s office.

“Who?” Kate crossed her arms, looking between the agents, hoping for an answer.

Spencer said your name for the first time in a very long time. And it was almost as if his brain whirred to life, like some part of him had been dormant for a long time.

“Doctor.”

Spencer gave Derek a weird look. “What?”

“It’s Doctor Y/N Y/L/N now, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer let his mouth fall into a small oh, letting his mind sink deeper and deeper into the pit of you.

When you had originally left, Spencer decided to try and ignore you. It didn’t work, but he wouldn’t seek you out purposefully. He never looked up your name and tried to steer clear of the conversations involving you. But he wondered why you had never mentioned wanting to get a doctorate beforehand. He would have remembered something like that. He should have remembered something like that. ______________________________________________________________

The thought of Spencer’s fingers on your waist was the only thing you could think about for the rest of the day. Your skin hadn’t stopped tingling, and suddenly you wanted to drown in his touch, let his hands roam over your body and— “Stop it.” You said out loud as you put in your earrings.

Your mind wasn’t playing far.

“What did you say, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, just talking to myself!” You called back, sighing as you smoothed out the front of the dress you had changed into.

The team had decided to throw you a welcome-back party that night, generously hosted by David Rossi. And since they had all wanted an excuse to get dressed up, you gave them that much, meaning you had to dawn heels and a touch of makeup to accentuate the features you wanted. It also meant you got to pull out another stunning dress you had bought.

Celebrating your doctorate, which you completed a year early, you had flown to Milan with Emily Prentiss and decided to go shopping, which is how you ended up with the current dress you were wearing.

It fits you in all the right places, showing off just enough cleavage to be tasteful but maybe tempt something a bit more. You wondered if Spencer would like—

“God, I forgot how hot you look in that dress.”

“Emily Prentiss, I could kiss you on the mouth.”

Emily laughed and looped her arm through yours, staring at the two of you in the mirror.

“Thank you for flying in on such short notice.” You whispered, unable to take your eyes off of the reflection staring back at you.

“We can call the whole thing off right now…”

You shook your head and smiled at her. “It’s for me. And I really want some of Rossi’s cooking right about now. Especially now that I can compare my worldly experiences with the Italian Masterchef himself.” You laughed, causing Emily to laugh with you.

“Let's get going, yeah?”

The ride to Rossi’s house on the outskirts of Washington D.C. made for a relaxing drive, filled with updates from your best friend about each other’s lives, even though it had only been a month since you had seen each other last.

“I think you’re being perfectly reasonable, hun.”

“You’re saying that because all I do is cry these days,” you grumbled, kissing the head of the black cat in your lap.

Emily laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Or maybe I just know that you need a change of scenery. You’ve dedicated your entire life to the BAU and now you need to explore the entire rest of the world.”

“I think you just want to go to Greece with me.”

“You know how much I love Mamma Mia….”

You cracked a smile and picked up your glass. “Maybe Em, I’m not sure…I just…”

Emily watched as you looked up, trying to keep the tears from your eyes.

“I know he’s not worth the tears,” you mumbled, but you exhaled slowly. “It’ll just hit me sometimes.”

She stayed quiet, watching as you slowly worked through whatever was happening in your head.

“It’s like he’s right next to me sometimes. I…It’s like sometimes my own head is against me for not talking to him. I heard a song the other day, and I immediately turned to tell him something about it and–It’s like he’s ruling over my mind—” You huffed angrily. “I feel like I’m not making any sense–god.” You downed your wine and placed the glass on the table. “Maybe I’m just meant to wallow and drink wine and be completely useless for the rest of my life…past my prime, past my worth. I was so—I was so fucking sure he was the one…Like there's this strong attachment to my chest and I’m connected to him for eternity, regardless of whether he loves me or not.”

Emily pulled you into her arms while you cried, rubbing your back.

“You are so much more than him, hun. You will go out in the world, figure out who you are again, and stand so tall, just how you’re supposed to.”

“So tall.” Emily looked at you as she parked the car in Rossi’s driveway.

“Just the way I’m supposed to be.” You whispered, looking over at her, smiling. ______________________________________________________________

You’ve been to Rossi’s more times than you could ever admit, but it managed to take your breath away every single time. After his first wife had passed away, he had put in a garden near the edge of his backyard, providing beautiful color for you to look at from the porch.

Somehow, you always had a half-full glass, managing to have someone always get you a new drink when you seemed low.

You managed to talk to Jack and Henry, telling them all about the wonders of the world you had seen, then being pulled away by Garcia to discuss that brief love affair you had in Argentina, which then led to telling Derek about your time in England, studying for your doctorate.

Gratefully, you excused yourself when Rossi announced that dinner had been served, leading you to the tables set up in the backyard, filled to the brim with all your favorite foods. He had simply done too much.

Dinner was filled with smiles, laughs, and chatter about the ‘good ol days’ and the newer memories being made. You had become acquainted with Kate Callahan, Emily’s replacement. She seemed nice enough, but you both were hesitant of one another.

Spencer was sitting across the table from you. The two of you would catch glances at one another, passing moments where you couldn’t help but notice the way the wind ruffled his hair or the way the garden’s fairy lights reflected in his eyes.

“So, what brings you back to Washington,” Hotch asks you the question every person at the table has been dying to hear the answer to.

“Oh! Well…” You blushed slightly and shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal, but I was just offered a position at Georgetown as an adjunct professor. If I take it, I’ll teach classes for at least the next semester. That is if I like it more than King’s College in London..”

The table erupted into congratulations, ending with a toast from Rossi.

You all raised your glass in “Salut”, and took a sip from your drink, but you couldn't help but look at Spencer, who was already looking at you.

Excusing yourself from the table, you went inside quickly, walking towards the kitchen sink. You ran your hands under the cool water before splashing it across your face.

“Y/n…”

There it was. The moment you had been dreading. The two of you were alone, no one else to buffer you, no one else to take your arm and drag you to the dance floor.

“Spencer.” You turned around, your body leaning against the sink. God, you felt so small, so unable to watch yourself.

“That’s a–that’s a beautiful dress.”

“Milan.” You mused, fiddling with the ring on your pinky finger, unable to look away from the man before you.

“Ah.”

The silence hurt. Watching the two of you must have been painful because you could feel it. You once told this man everything about yourself; he once knew how your day went by one singular sigh. He could have told you what you were in the mood to eat for breakfast just by how you woke up.

But now, you didn’t even know what to say.

“Georgetown.”

You nodded and looked down at your nails, seeming that they felt like a safer bet to look at. “Yeah, uh…should be fun. Can I–” You looked up at him. “Can I ask you something?”

Spencer’s head nodded, and you pursed your lips, looking out the window and watching as your friends and family all laughed together and ate together.

“When I was…um.” You cleared your throat, willing away the tears that had instantly sprung to your eyes. “When I was packing up all my stuff two years ago…I found the…W-Was it for her or…” You braced yourself for impact. Waiting for him to respond.

Spencer’s eyes glassed over, and his mouth formed a small oh. He fiddled with his ring finger and looked out past you through the window. He couldn’t bear to watch the travesty he was about to cause.

“You.”

“Oh.” Fuck this. Fuck. You had sobbed over finding it for three hours while packing and then sobbed again as you moved out. Somehow, hearing it out loud was worse.

He was going to propose to you.

Spencer Reid had wanted to marry you. And god, that hurt. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and then he told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore.

You didn’t care if you were reserving a spot in hell for yourself by damning an already dead woman. Her death meant Spencer could feel an ounce of the grief you just dug up. A sliver of the pain.

Suddenly, you felt his hand on your jaw, a thumb on your cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped your eye. “I am so sorry.” He whispered.

And that broke the damn.

He pulled you into his arms, and you let him, surrounding yourself with Spencer. Letting the smell of his cologne wash over you, letting him squeeze you tightly like he used to so long ago. The feeling of his chest rising and falling gave you such comfort that your brain was screaming at you to run away from it. You had finally built all your walls back up; you felt as if you could finally exist, but here in his arms, the world was silent.

In his arms, you felt fragile; you felt so small. All of the strength you had was gone. And it felt so fucking good to not have to be the strong one, the person with the brave face.

“I’m so sorry.”

His lips kissed your hair, arm running up and down your back, trying so desperately to bring back that sense of comfort he once could provide you. And it was fucking working. God, why was it working. Why did it feel good? Why couldn’t you pull away?

“Spence…” You mumbled into his shirt, that had been stained by your tears. You shook your head. “I can’t…We can’t…”

He pulled away from you slightly, eyes saddened, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you were rejecting him or because he still loved you just as much as you loved him.

“I love you.”

You pulled away from the kiss, hand on his chest, smiling brightly at him. “What?”

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked, Spencer decided.

Your lips were puffy from how much the two of you were kissing, hair messy from his hands running through it, eyes wide with just as much love repeated in his own.

“I love you.” He repeated, smiling beyond measure.

“Say it again.” You mumbled, yanking him back down to your lips, kissing him again and again.

“I love you so much, y/n y/l/n.”

You pulled away, laughter filling up the entire room. Pure joy echoed and bounced off of the walls.

Spencer bit his lip, pulling away slightly. You hadn’t set it back.

“Spence…” You cupped both cheeks with your hand, thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you too.”

Just saying it caused you to giggle, full of love and pure joy.

Loving anyone else would have caused you to gag–it still does.

But the memory makes you shudder, causing you to step out of his arms, quickly wiping away your tears or trying your best to.

The thought of love made you want to rip your head off. It made you want to sink to the bottom of the ocean and never resurface.

Spencer said your name, making you shake your head.

“You don’t love me Spencer. You haven’t for a long time.” The admission caused a resurgence of tears, making him take a step towards you. “No, Spencer, no.”

You shook your head again. “I-I can’t…you hurt me. You…you left me for someone you had never even met. She was–god.”

“I never loved her the way I love you.”

“No.” You whispered, chest heaving. “No, no. You can’t..fuck. Don’t say that shit–why would you say that shit to me.”

“Because it's the truth.” He said softly, too calmly for you to just ignore it.

“How can you stand there and say that to me? You don’t mean it—You can’t..” The past two year’s worth of therapy, of moving on, of becoming your own, came crumbling down because fuck, you didn’t know what to believe anymore. “How can you just…You don’t fucking mean it.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but I–”

“Don’t believe you?” You laughed at that, tears mixing with the stabs in your chest, dropping past your mouth as it laughed and laughed and laughed. “Then why did you fucking leave me. Why–Why–Why did you tell me to move out and…God Spencer, why did you come here tonight.”

You were almost hysterical at that point; all Spencer could do was watch. He couldn't touch you because every time he tried, you’d move away or lose some part of your mind even more.

“What about me was so–so–so, so boring, so understimulating to you, so desperately ignorant that you told me you didn’t love me anymore, that you kicked me out of our home, that made you reconsider wanting to marry me. And you know, I get it, I do. You found someone on your level intellectually, I get it. But still, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life–what did she have that I didn’t, huh? What about her made her more appealing to talk to than me? ”

“She…”

“She what, Spencer.”

“I wasn’t–”

“No.” You were leaning back against the counter, trying to gain some semblance of yourself back from the spiral you were on. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t give me some ‘unworthy’ thought process because maybe you’re fucking eidetic memory doesn’t remember all of the conversations we used to have, but I fucking do. I couldn’t cut them out of my skin if I tried, and god did I try.”

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t function. All he could do was watch the pieces of you shatter all over, reliving the exact moments you were, but instead of being able to make it right, all he could watch as you closed yourself off more and more.

“Y-you tried?”

“God, Spencer, did you even look at me during those months.”

“I…” He just looked at you, really looked at you. “I couldn’t.”

You scoffed, wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and straightened out your dress.

“The only fucking thing I know is that if I don’t walk away now, then I will hate myself for the rest of my life for letting you talk me back into loving you again. And the worst part is, I still do. I don’t think I could ever love anyone again because of how much love I have for you, after everything we had been through, but—”

He kissed you.

Or you kissed him.

You weren’t sure.

But all you knew was that his hands were on your waist, and your hands were on his cheeks, and his lips were touching yours, and everything felt so right within the world, and your body was against his and just–

“Fuck.” You quickly pulled away, both of you panting, staring at one another, unsure about what happened.

You two just stared at one another for what felt like forever until you heard Emily call your name from the porch. You took another step away, back against the kitchen counter, smoothing your hair and crossing your arms.

Emily walked in and eyed the two of you, misreading the tension as something more antagonistic from before than what had actually happened.

“Uh, Rossi made you a cake…” She looked between the both of you, watching as you nodded at her, standing up fully. You followed behind her, sparing one last look at Spencer, who was just looking at where you were standing.

______________________________________________________________

“Uh, hi, sorry, could you point me toward Agent Hotchner’s Office.”

The person whose shoulder you tapped turned around and gave you one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen.

“Well hello, gorg–”

“Derek. Don’t be rude.” The woman next to Derek had elbowed him in the ribs, preventing more HR training for the both of them. “Hi. You must be Y/n. I’m Penelope, and that’s Derek, don’t mind him.” She looped her arm through yours and started to lead you towards the little staircase on the side of the room.

“Hotch’s office is right up here.”

“I–Thank you, Penelope.” You smiled at her.

“I’ve read your file.” She whispered, smiling back at you. “I’m really excited to work with you because you are one impressive woman, let me tell you.”

You blushed slightly, about to respond, but Penelope had knocked on Hotch’s door, causing a voice to tell you to “come in.”

“Welcome to the team.” She pulled away, leaving you to enter Aaron Hotchner’s office for the first of many times.

You opened the door and smiled at the man at the desk. “Hi, I’m–”

“Y/n Y/l/n, You have a very impressive resume. Please, take a seat.” He stood to shake your hand, gesturing to the chair before his desk. You quickly scanned the photos along the walls, the books on his shelves.

“Everyone knows who I am before I know who they are.” You laughed slightly, taking the seat.

“Yes, well, We’re all very excited to have you join us here.”

The memory of your first day hit you like a wave when Aaron pulled your seat out for you back at the table outside. You stalled for only a second, but it was long enough for any of the various profilers at the table to notice something was off.

You smiled through the speeches, and you laughed at the jokes and cried at the sweetness of your friends, but you were somewhere far away, dreaming about the moments that led you up to where you were.

“And that is why I am glad to have you back because clearly, the universe respects you enough to let us all come together to celebrate the return of our Y/n.” You raised your glass and cheer with Rossi, standing up to hug him.

“Now.” You smiled at all of the faces that looked up at you. “Let us eat cake!!”

The table erupted and while Rossi cut slices for each of you, you sat back down, listening to what Garcia was telling you, but your eyes kept darting to the person directly across from you.

You could feel his eyes any time they were on you, and you knew they were fleeting glances, but it was just too much.

“Want to take a walk with me through the rose garden?”

You nodded, standing up and accepting Derek’s arm, letting him lead you towards the garden, enjoying the fresh air and the sudden weight off of your shoulders. You couldn’t feel his gaze anymore but you knew he was still looking at you.

“What’s next on your list of adventures.” Derek looked at you, watching the millions of emotions race across your face before settling on a smile and a shrug.

“I’m not sure yet. You know about Georgetown, but I don’t know about D.C. anymore….”

Derek nodded and pulled out the chair at the small wire table. It sat under a trellis filled with gorgeously bloomed roses and baby’s breath. The smell was almost overwhelmingly fragrant.

You gratefully took it and watched as he went and sat across from you.

“You looked like you got a bit overwhelmed back there.”

“What happened to not profiling me like I asked?”

Derek chuckled, “It’s not profiling if it’s written on your sleeve.”

You sighed and looked out at some of the flowers. “I don't…”

He let you work through it in your mind, just glad to keep you company while you figured your shit out.

Eventually, you spoke up. “It’s weird.”

Derek hummed in agreement.

“I don’t know. Just. I felt like I was doing so well, and I was becoming my own person, figuring out who I was, and then I come back here, and suddenly I’m back to being that twenty-two-year-old kid who breezed her way through the academy. It’s like I did everything in my power to end up where I did, and then the universe told me I fucked up and should have done something else.”

“I don’t think you fucked up in the slightest. Do you know how many people you saved?”

You went to brush off his comment, but Derek didn’t let you get a word in.

“I know your entire world got completely fucked over, but you were meant to be in BAU. You were supposed to be there. I cannot think of my life without you, I know Garcia can’t, and I know Emily would tear you a new one if you even brought up to her the possibility that you being in her life was a mistake.”

“Yeah, and now I’m thirty, with a doctorate and a cat, and no idea what to do with my life.”

“But you also just spent the last two years seeing the world–how many countries did you go to…”

You pursued your lips, trying to count in your head. A blush spread across your face as you mumbled the number.

“Sorry, wanna repeat that for me?”

“At least fifty…”

“That’s what I thought.” A very proud look crossed Derek's face, smiling at you.

You looked down at your left hand, fiddling with your ring finger. No matter how hard Derek tried, no matter how much you enjoyed his company and the way he was keeping your ego healthily inflated, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have been married–you could have been happy.

“He told me when he bought it.”

Your eyes snapped to Derek’s, and he looked at you with such soft eyes.

That was something you had always loved about Derek. No matter how much he cared for you, no matter how gently he was being, he never treated you like a piece of glass.

“He, uh, I was the only one he told.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“When did you find it?”

“When I was moving my things out of the apartment.”

“Damn…”

“Yeah.” You laughed. It was colder than usual but still antagonistic at the whole situation. “I…um. I found it on the last day when I was cleaning out my bedside table. He knew I never went into the bottom drawer because I literally never kept anything in there, but I checked because, you know, I was asked to leave, and…there it was. It was just…It’s ironic, really, how perfect it was, too. They say that if a guy can’t get the ring right, then he’s not the one for you, but no one preps you on if it’s the perfect ring, perfect size, but you had just broken up two days before you found it…”

Derek nodded, letting you ramble.

“I feel like I’m being weighed down by a million different things, yet they’re all him.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

"Sometimes good things fall apart, so that better things can fall together." ~ Marilyn Monroe

Part 3

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Tags: @lilrios-world @gubzgirl @mynameisnotokay @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @mega-kittyglitter-1 @onlyspence

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spence reid x reader angst

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sgrdoll · 1 year

Text

sunshine

synopsis - bucky’s therapist tells him to get out of the house more and he meets the human embodiment of sunshine.

warnings - smut, tooth rotting fluff, dom/sub dynamics, oral male & female receiving, spanking unprotected sex, mentions of PTSD, pet names, bucky struggling with his mental health

a/n - i really left yall hanging for MONTHS. if you read this at all i am thankful because if i was my own reader i would ignore this post out of spite lol. critiques are welcome since I haven’t written in so long. replies, reblogs, & likes are appreciated!! :)

masterlist

wc: 5k ish

The rain outside pelted against Bucky’s leather jacket loudly. He groaned and stepped into a nearby library to escape the less than ideal weather. He welcomed the warmth that enveloped him.

He looked around for a moment, it seemed like he was the only person in here. Stepping into the dark library felt like switching dimensions in comparison to the loud bustling streets of New York, add in the incessant rain and it was a nightmare out there in the real world.

Bucky wiped his feet on the rug before stepping fully inside the library. He didn’t have anywhere to be, he was really only out because his therapist thought he was getting a bit too comfortable in isolation. Of course, that was true, however, he still despised having to interact with innocent people he had the potential to hurt.

The library was dimly lit and had books from floor to ceiling. There were even miscellaneous piles of books scattered around his feet on the floor. All of the colors that surrounded him were neutrals but they felt so comforting and inviting. The library he stepped into was cozy and he had no qualms about being trapped here while the rain poured outside.

Deciding to make the most of his time, Bucky walked toward the nonfiction section. He loved reading books that had anything pertaining to the military, it was something that had stuck with him through his childhood and into adulthood. He slipped into the narrow aisle and scanned down the shelves.

His fingers gently grazed the spines of the aging books in front of him. Bucky was slowly relaxing into the silence that the library provided for him.

His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

Bucky moved his focus from the books in front of him to the woman that was now browsing right next to him. She had her long light brown hair flowing down her back and a bit messy from the rain. The skirt she was wearing was black and entirely too short for the weather they were currently having, but the cream sweater with the Polo logo on it somewhat made up for the shortcomings of her skirt.

Bucky’s first thought was His apartment wasn’t the safe haven to him that it once was, it was now a place haunted by the nightmares that were slowly consuming him. Here in the library though, his demons couldn’t find him.

“Excuse me, sir,” a small voice said apologetically as they squeezed by him.

He moved his attention away from the doe-eyed girl that was a little too close to him and refocused on the combat books in front of him. Funnily enough, the books about violence were distracting him from his fears of violence.

It took a few moments, but Bucky’s anxiety slowly trickled off until it was nothing but a dull ache in his chest.

That was until the pretty girl smiled at him, “Hi.”

Her tone was warm and kind and she was obviously inviting Bucky to have a conversation with her while they shared the aisle of old books so intimately.

His eyes widened slightly but he quickly took his composure back from the perfect girl in front of him that seemed to be stealing it.

“Hey,” he almost cringed as soon as he said it. His voice was much too rough in comparison to the gentle tone she was using to speak to him.

“Do you read a lot of nonfiction?” Her head cocked cutely to the side which made his heart beat a little faster.

“On the rare occasion I pick up a book, yes,” he answered after a beat of silence. He was mentally high fiving himself at such a collected response considering the effect she was having on him.

“I’m grabbing some of the old medical journals for some of my writing,” she answered the question without being prompted.

“What do you write?”

“I mostly do romance but my latest idea has been murder-mystery.”

“Oh, so you’re a novelist?” Bucky was beginning to feel more comfortable with the conversation now. The girl in front of him now felt like a breath of fresh air rather than a suffocating hand around his throat.

“Not exactly a superhero, but it pays the bills,” her smile was infectious and Bucky couldn’t help but grin.

“What’s your name?” He leaned back against the shelf behind him.

“I’m Amelia. But most of my friends call me Milly,” she answered him without breaking her gaze.

Amelia was very confident it seemed. But, not in a cocky way, her confidence was kindness. She radiated an energy that could only be described as pure gold.

“I’m Bucky,” he told her.

“I know. I saw you on the news last night, you save the world a lot it seems.”

Her comment made the tip of his ears burn red, “I guess you could say that.”

“Don’t be so modest. I think it’s cool, you’re like a real life comic book character,” her flattery was like ten arrows pointed straight at Bucky’s anxiety, slowly dwindling it down to a tiny stump that sat in the base of his stomach instead of the huge tree that once took over his entire body.

“You’re acting like you don’t have the coolest job in the world,” he rolled his eyes playfully at her, “You’re the one who gets to make the comic book characters.”

Their conversation continued and they slowly migrated over to the leather chairs in the corner of the room. They sat down next to each other and he told her his war stories while she took little sips of her coffee.

Every small movement she made, every little flip of her hair, all of her crossing and uncrossing of her legs, enticed Bucky even further into her spell.

“I love the rain,” Amelia said to him after he complained about the horrific weather, “It’s so pretty and calming.”

It confused him how she could find violent thunderstorms calming.

“The only reason I even walked into this library was to get away from the mess outside,” he replied back while looking through one of the windows to see that the precipitation had slowed down to a gentle mist now.

“Well if there was no rain, you would’ve never met me,” she smiled at him.

They had been talking for at least two hours by this point, but it felt like only twenty minutes. Everything was so easy with Milly. Conversation was like an ever flowing river with her, it just was so smooth and easy.

All he could feel was her energy, not the pain of his past, just her. For two hours, what happened to him fifty years ago was just that, the past.

She was pure light. She radiated warmth, she was what made flowers grow, she was what supported life on Earth, she was the sunshine.

Bucky looked down to check his watch and noticed the time. His eyes widened a little bit and he glanced back up at Milly who was happily chatting about her cats Moose and Sushi.

“Am I talking too much?” She suddenly stopped and looked down at her lap shyly.

“No! Of course not,” he quickly reassured her, “It’s just, it’s getting late.”

“Oh,” she said, a little disheartened he was finished talking to her.

“How about dinner?” Bucky didn’t even think about what he was saying until it was out of his mouth. It was very spur of the moment and he wish he could go back in time and think about the consequences that might come of taking her out.

“Dinner?” She repeated back as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah, I know this great Thai place a few blocks down,” he smiled at her trying to tamper down his own racing thoughts.

Her pale pink nails clicked against the now empty coffee cup in her hand as she thought, “That sounds great.”

The pair stood up and Bucky took notice of the cloudy sky no longer pouring rain. He almost smiled at the thought of how long they had been talking. Not one notion of violence or hurting her had crossed his mangled brain.

They stepped out of the library and into the street. Without thinking, Bucky grabbed her hand and guided her down the street.

Milly hoped he didn’t notice the pink tint on her cheeks and trembling hands.

The duo were both lost in their own thoughts about one another and walked in silence while the world around them moved at an impossible pace.

Bucky stopped at a door on the corner of the street that Milly had always assumed was abandoned.

“I’ve never been here before,” she commented to him as he opened the door for her.

“I don’t know many people who have,” he chuckled.

No one greeted them but that didn’t seem to bother Bucky who led her to a booth in the corner without any guidance from the staff.

Milly slipped into the booth first and Bucky very surprisingly sat on the same side she did.

Bucky was testing himself. He wanted to see how far he could go without any thoughts or flashbacks to the life he used to live.

Their shoulders touched and he basked in the warmth she brought him, both physically and metaphorically.

He looked down at her and she was trapped in his unwavering gaze. Her lips parted and Bucky’s heart hammered loudly in his chest. They didn’t speak, they just drank each other in like sweet wine.

“Can I take your order?” A woman with a thick British accent interrupted them.

Bucky’s head whipped around and Milly was ripped from her trance with him. Their picture perfect bubble had burst.

He cleared his throat quickly, “Sorry, um, yes I think we’ll both have the chicken pad thai and some water.”

The waitress chewed her gum loudly while writing down the order and Bucky offered her a small smile.

“Sorry, I just sort of guessed on what you would want,” Bucky said almost sheepishly.

“I like chicken pad thai,” Amelia responded back with a smile.

He locked eyes with her again, “Do you think you want to do this again tomorrow?”

She laughed cutely at him, “We aren’t even done with today.”

“I think it’s gonna go well.”

His confidence almost shocked her. All day it felt like he was walking on eggshells but now she felt like she was getting all of him, not just the parts he felt like showing. The thought made her stomach flutter.

Their meal went on with lots of flirtation. Knees touching and hushed giggles were like their own secret language.

When the bill came Bucky deflated. He wasn’t ready to give up the sunshine yet.

He put his card down and the waitress came back with the receipt far too quickly. Bucky felt his time with her winding down and coming to an end.

“Hey,” he blurted out, “Do you want to come to the tower with me?”

“What tower? Like the Empire State Building?”

“The Avenger’s Tower.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, “Are people even allowed in there?”

Bucky’s heart stopping smile appeared once again, “Of course, and now you have an invitation.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” she frowned.

“I won’t get in trouble. Tony’s not even in town this week. I think Steve’s the only person there.”

“It sounds like we would be breaking the rules,” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, “It makes it more fun.”

She sighed, “As long as we don’t get caught. I really don’t want to be in trouble with the most powerful men in New York.”

He smiled, “You could never be in trouble with me, doll.”

Amelia could’ve passed out. The dominance that oozed from just that sentence made her head fuzzy and knees weak.

She tried to play it off by rolling her eyes and he laughed again.

Bucky stood up from the booth and reached his hand towards her.

“This time we can take a car to the Tower. It’s probably unbearably cold outside, especially with that skirt on.”

“I’m wearing fleece lined stockings,” she defended.

He tried his hardest to not daydream about what was underneath those stockings.

The pair walked into the windy night of New York. The rain had returned as a mist that made the horizon hazy and gray.

Bucky tucked his dog tags into his long sleeve shirt. Similarly to him, Amelia was struggling not wondering what else he could do with his hands.

A car pulled up to the sidewalk and the two quickly got in.

Bucky brushed some stray rain droplets from his hair and she jumped back and giggled when they landed on her face.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and he silently wondered how he was going to get through the rest of the night without grabbing her by the neck and kissing the hell out of her.

She smiled up at his now serious and poked his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he said after she finished her laughing fit.

Her cheeks reddened and her nose scrunched. She really was perfect.

The traffic wasn’t as horrendous as Bucky expected and they made it to the Tower quicker than he thought they would.

She was enamored by the bright lights of the Tower. The glow from the building reflected in her brown eyes like dazzling stars.

“C’mon,” he interrupted her gawking, “I’ll show you around.”

Bucky escorted her out of the SUV and to the front of the building. He remembered feelings just like she did when Steve first brought him here, impossibly small.

“Let’s go in. I promise it’s much more impressive from the inside,” Bucky said to her.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” Milly asked one last time before they went in.

“If I say no will you still come in with me?”

“Bucky,” she whined, “Please don’t get me into any trouble.”

The pout on her lips sent his mind into overdrive. She made it hard for him to form sentences sometimes.

“I won’t,” he regained his composure, “It’ll be fun and if it’s not I’ll take you right back home.”

She begrudgingly agreed and they walked into the glamorous building.

Reinforced glass walls surrounded them and a few employees strolled by without a second glance at her.

“Wow, it’s really pretty in here,” Milly breathed out.

“It’s definitely not the tax bracket I grew up in,” Bucky chuckled.

“Do you guys live here?”

Amelia knew she was being nosy and almost immediately regretted asking. Bucky however didn’t bat an eye and answered her quickly.

“I share a floor with Steve on one of the top levels and Nat sometimes stays here, but that’s it.”

“You have your own coffee shop,” she said pointing to the 24/7 coffee cart situated in the lobby.

“It’s incredibly convenient,” he chuckled, “Do you want to see the upstairs?”

His cheeks turned red, he didn’t want her to have the wrong impression of him. Bucky didn’t want to have some one night stand with her, although he wasn’t opposed to taking her up there and fucking her stupid.

“Sure. What floor are you on?” She asked while walking toward the elevator. Amelia didn’t even catch the innuendo.

“Floor 8,” he stepped on the elevator, “Let me put in the stupid passcode.”

He punched in four digits and rolled his eyes, “Tony is way too serious about security.”

The ride up was quick and relatively quiet. When the doors opened to Bucky’s penthouse suite she audibly gasped.

“Wow. You live here?” Her tone was practically incredulous.

“Have for 3 years now, sweetheart.”

The room was mostly decorated with neutrals except for some artwork on the wall.

Bucky noticed her eyeing it and offered an explanation, “That’s Steve’s contribution, he loves to paint.”

“It’s beautiful here. I would be scared out of my mind to even cook in a kitchen as perfect as this one,” she eyeballed the million dollar penthouse.

“I’ll use that as my excuse the next time Tony scolds us for not eating at home enough,” Bucky joked.

Amelia turned her attention back to him, “Did you say Steve was home earlier?”

“Let me check, he might’ve gone out with Natasha,” he said while walking out of the room and calling out for his flatmate.

When he figured out Steve wasn’t actually home as he originally thought he leaned against the wall. He had barely any time to process that there was a beautiful woman in his apartment. A beautiful woman that he wasn’t scared of harming. Someone who took all of those bad thoughts away from him.

Bucky had never felt this way before. It was the first time in a long time he wasn’t scared of himself.

He sighed in relief at the feeling of not having to worry. It felt like he had just finished the marathon of his life and finally got to sit down when he was around her.

After taking a couple of seconds to process he walked back into the living room to see her sitting on the couch looking at the view of the city.

The wall was glass and it made for a beautiful backdrop in their home. Especially tonight, when the stormy clouds parted just enough to see the full moon.

He went to the kitchen quietly as to not disturb her and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Bucky took a deep breath and strolled towards the couch and sat down. He placed the wine glasses on the table in front of them.

“It’s beautiful out there isn’t it?” She commented.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said, staring at the side of her face.

“I brought some wine if you want any,” Bucky offered while pouring his own glass.

“No thank you, I hate the taste of wine,” she scrunched her nose again.

“I can grab some water or juice for you,” he offered quickly. He felt like a terrible host.

“No, that’s okay,” she finally turned her body towards his.

His breath stopped when he saw her brown eyes gazing into his own. Bucky didn’t even think about it when his hand touched the right side of her neck and he leaned down to kiss her.

She reciprocated quickly and grabbed the bottom of his shirt in her fist as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

Their lips moved against each other for a few seconds before he slipped his tongue in her mouth. She sighed into him and pressed herself closer to him.

Bucky picked up her smaller frame and placed her in his lap without breaking the kiss.

Millie straddled him and grabbed the short hair at the base of his neck.

“Fuck, Amelia,” he breathed out when he pulled away.

Her sweet giggle filled the room as their foreheads touched and their chests heaved in unison.

“You're really good at that,” she said, still out of breath.

He chuckled at her, “I wanted to kiss you all night. It’s a surprise I’ve made it this far.”

“Are you gonna stop now?” Milly tilted her head and pouted her lips.

Bucky threw his back and cursed, “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman right now.”

Amelia kissed a hickey on his neck and leaned in next to his ear, “I’m not asking you to be a gentleman, Bucky.”

It felt like all of the resolve he had left in his body had snapped and he wrapped his calloused hand around the soft skin on her neck. He squeezed the sides of her throat and watched as her eyes took on a glimmer he hadn’t seen before.

Milly challenged him with a smile he wasn’t expecting, “How did you know just what I liked?”

“I never pinned you for a girl who liked to be thrown around,” Bucky’s eyebrow lifted in surprise but the grin remained on his face.

“I never pinned you for a guy who liked to throw girls around,” she returned his smile.

Even with his hand wrapped around the delicate skin of her neck he wasn’t scared of hurting her. Bucky felt fully in control for the first time in a long time.

“Safe word is red, baby.” Bucky smirked after a beat of silence

His hand tightened around her throat once again and he kissed her. Amelia’s hips grinded down against his lap.

Her short skirt slowly started to ride up until Bucky’s hands found the hem and pushed it all the way up.

His hands wandered down from her neck to her hips. Bucky moved her against him. He felt his pants tightening to accommodate how hard he was.

Amelia pulled away from the kiss and leaned her head against his chest as he continued to move her hips against his own. All that could be heard were her shaky moans and the sounds of bucky sucking a trail of hickeys down her neck.

“Not so confident now, huh baby?” He taunted her when he felt her thighs shaking around him.

“Please stop teasing me,” she begged with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Aw, but you look so cute squirming on my lap,” he mocked her.

Gone was Bucky’s almost shy demeanor, now he was domineering and arrogant.

Amelia could feel herself getting wetter by the second, “Please, Bucky. Please fuck me.”

“Only because you sound so sweet when you beg.”

Bucky moved her and stood up from his position on the couch. He took his black shirt off and let it fall to the ground.

He almost groaned when he saw her look up at him from underneath her lashes. Her eyes were full of want and it made his chest hurt.

Amelia stood up from the couch and then dropped to her knees and looked up at him with a cute smile.

“Fuck, not as innocent as you seem huh?” He chided while she ran her hands up and down his jean clad thighs.

Her fingers ran across the prominent bulge a couple of times before she began to unbuckle his belt.

Bucky could tell she was reciprocating his teasing from before and teasing him.

She gentle pulled his boxers off and let his cock stand proudly in front of her.

Milly inhaled deeply and tried to keep her confidence from before as she stroked him gently. Before she put her mouth around Bucky she looked up at him and he gave her a small reassuring smile.

That gave her all the confidence she needed to take his length down her throat. She bobbed her head up and down until her eyes watered and mascara trailed down her flushed cheeks.

Bucky groaned out loud, “Jesus fucking Christ Milly. You look so fucking pretty with my cock down your throat and tears in your eyes.”

Amelia sucked hard on Bucky’s length and his hands found their way into her thick brown hair.

She stopped moving and looked up at him expectantly.

His jaw almost dropped when he realized she was waiting for him to fuck her face. She had to be created in a lab or something. There was no way she was that perfect for him.

Bucky’s hands gripped harder into her hair and he started to fuck her mouth.

He felt himself getting closer and closer as he fucked her mouth at a sinful pace. Bucky took her off his cock and Milly frowned.

“I want you to come down my throat,” she pouted.

Fuck, she feels like the answers to all of life’s problems.

“Not tonight. Tonight, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said pulling her up from her knees.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

She stood there for a moment without moving.

“Now, Amelia. Don’t make me ask again,” he warned.

This made her strip off her sweater and her ripped tights. She unzipped her skirt quickly and looked back to Bucky for instruction.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Bucky praised her and cupped her cheek.

His words were so kind and reminded her of the way he was earlier in the night. Amelia wasn’t sure which side of him she preferred, the domineering and brash Bucky or the kind and soft spoken Bucky.

She took a step towards his hulking frame and ran her hands over his abdomen. She felt his taught muscles twitch underneath her wandering fingers as he kissed her again.

He maneuvered her back onto the couch where they previously were and perched her body on his lap without taking his lips off of hers.

Bucky broke the kiss and whispered gruffly, “Over my lap.”

Amelia could tell by his tone that it wasn’t request. She shivered at the dominance he displayed and did what he said quickly.

Bucky ran his his large palm over the tan skin of her Milly’s ass and had to stifle a moan. Her body was a fucking masterpiece.

Amelia could feel his hard on pressing into her middle and she wanted nothing more for him to be inside her.

Without warning his hand came down harshly on the sensitive skin of her ass.

She gasped when she felt him spank her. She rubbed her thighs together at the feeling of the sharp pain.

Bucky took notice of this, “A painslut too? Very cute.”

Milly’s face turned pink at the name but she couldn’t deny that it made her feel that much more turned on.

Bucky gave her a few more before finally ending her anticipation and reaching down in between her legs.

She almost sighed in relief when his hand glided over her folds. Bucky rubbed small circles over her clit. His fingers went between her dripping hole and up to her clit torturously. All she wanted was for him to be inside her, in any way possible.

He was rewarded for his efforts with her cute moans egging him on. Finally, he slipped a finger into her and she gripped his thigh hard, surely leaving marks where her fingernails were digging into his skin.

He pumped in and out of her heat at a pace that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. He had a second finger and curled his fingers right into the spot that made her see stars.

Her pants were audible, “Please, Bucky! I’m about to cum.”

As soon as she said it his pulled his fingers out of her. She whined at the loss of contact and sat up from her position over his lap.

“Bucky, please!” She whined hopelessly.

“Don’t be such a brat, you’re gonna cum tonight,” he rolled his eyes at her.

Milly pouted up at his handsome face. Before she could say anything else she was being scooped up into his arms and trotted off somewhere.

“Where are we going?” The whine in her voice was still there.

“My bedroom,” he responded in a short manner.

Bucky opened the door to his bedroom and threw Amelia on the grey duvet of his bed.

She didn’t even get a chance to look around before he was once again on top of her kissing her.

Milly squirmed underneath him and let out helpless moans.

Bucky pulled away and let out a mocking laugh, “You’re so desperate for my cock huh? How did I find such a perfect cockwhore?”

Amelia wanted to cry at how badly she wanted him. It felt like she had been teased for millenniums.

Bucky ran the tip of his length through her folds to get her even more worked up.

“Please!” Tears clouded her vision.

The sight of her crying for him to fuck her was enough to send Bucky into a spiral. He finally pushed into her heat.

He threw his head back and they let out simultaneous moans. He slowly started to pump into her velvet walls.

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for me, baby.”

Amelia couldn’t form words all she could do was whimper and clutch onto his sheets as he pounded her into his mattress.

Bucky grabbed her leg and threw it over his shoulder and watched as her mouth opened into a silent scream at the new angle. He smirked as he fucked into her, he knew she was close.

“I’m gonna cum,” she panted out at him as she arched her back up into him.

He grabbed the headboard and set a brutal pace when he felt her tighten around him. Bucky was sure this was what heaven felt like.

He felt her constrict around him even tighter and arch her body into his own. Her moans came to a crescendo and she came undone around his cock.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling her cum around him was his final straw and he released inside of her.

Feeling him cum inside her made Amelia preen. They stayed connected for a moment before he pulled out of her and laid next to her panting body.

She turned toward him and pressed her head into his chest. Bucky kissed the crown of her head and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her body closer to his.

“Was that okay?”

“It was perfect, Bucky.”

#bucky barnes x ofc #sub!reader #au #bucky barnes #dom!bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #dom!sub #smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes fluff #fluff #bucky barnes smut #fluffy smut #bruce banner #steve rogers #daddy!bucky

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gigidragonbbxxx · 2 months

Text

regarding mental diet

discipline. consistency. THIS IS HOW YOU MANIFEST.

it is the discipline and consistency in acknowledging the things in your 3D that you want and ignoring the stuff that you do not identify with.

Yes Gigi, we know that why are you saying something EVERYONE says?

bc dear reader and loass community, i'm gonna say something that might be known but I don't see stated enough:

To be a master manifester, you break your old realities and create new ones - AND A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME GETTING ON THIS LEVEL BECAUSE THEY ARE UNWILLING TO LET GO OF HABITS THAT DO NOT SERVE THEM.

AKA = YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

You hear me???

YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

AND THIS IS WHAT MENTAL DIET IS: NOT GIVING IN TO EVERY TREND, EVERY LIL SONG, EVERY TV SHOW, ETC. IF IT DOES NOT HELP YOUR MIND BE SATURATED WITH BEING IN YOUR FAVOR.

I'll cite an example many of us go through: a friend who doesn't know the law and only wants to talk about how horrible men are. This friend is also addicted to complaining. What have so many loass practicing people have said? They've either 1) told that friend they don't want to talk about that stuff or 2) spent less time with that friend.

it's an experience so many in the community go through and many benefit from limiting their exposure to that type of person. because what is the point of spending time affirming lies like "life has to be hard" "life is unfair" "I always get treated like shit by men" "I'm never first choice" like EW!? guys, learn to get the ICK from this type of talk!!! there is no benefit from this energy.

YOU GET TO DECIDE WHAT YOU WANT TO EXPOSE YOURSELF TO. SO STOP MINGLING WITH ENERGY THAT DOES NOT SERVE YOU. IF YOU HAVE TIME TO THINK BADLY, YOU HAVE TIME TO THINK POSITIVELY!!!

Be willing to WALK AWAY. Be willing to be the one to say "This is not for me" if a convo is full of limited beliefs. Be willing to not participate in trends like making tiktoks about self deprecating jokes or tweet about toxic things. Be willing to say "Oh i never say those things about myself."

Let me explain what prompted me to write this:

I saw THE CUTEST lil key chains or cases made by a small business. I love to reblog cute things on my main account on twt (not my loass burner) and tbh I've manifested getting some of those cute things by making a lil placebo that whatever I retweet is mine/fact.

The first case/keychain thing was "Tummy Ache Survivor" which I thought was hilarious as I have a lot of Virgo energy in my life but the second image showcased another that said something along the lines of "Daily Dose of Dumb Baby Juice".

Guys.

Please.

Does a master manifester drink dumb baby juice? Or is she the operant power full of knowledge and wisdom leading a fulfilling life?

Now, I'm not a limiting typa gal okay? You can totally be "baby". You can totally live a soft live. Be a baby. Hell, I love being baby in a relationship. What I'm saying is even seemingly "harmless" things like that phrase...you have to have discernment in what could be unfavorable influences in your life.

Again, Gigi isn't telling you how to live your life. If you wanna declare "fuck off Gigi! I'm a dumb baby AND I manifest!" go ahead. If you wanna declare "fuck off Gigi! I can consume ANY CONTENT I want and manifest!" GO AHEAD.

BUT LETS DISCUSS SOME OBSERVATIONS IVE MADE ABOUT THE BIGGEST LOA COACHES/ACCOUNTS WITH THE MOST SUCCESS:

all of them. 100% of them. are careful about what they expose themselves to/say about themselves.

BECAUSE DOMINANT BELIEFS ARE WHAT MANIFESTS. SO WHY WASTE TIME CONSUMING CONTENT THAT GOES AGAINST WHAT YOU WANT YOUR DOMINANT THOUGHT PATTERN TO BE? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!

and I get the resistance to cut off things you mightve enjoyed. But i said it before and I'll repeat it again.

YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

things gigi had to cut off:

sad songs on daily playlists

reality tv glorifying toxicity in relationships

accounts on twt that leaned heavily on "men are trash" mindset

conversations that were self-deprecating

and more but those are a few examples.

and you know what I have more time to do now, reader?

I have more time to affirm, to listen to subs, to write on this blog.

Because Manifestion is a Lifestyle. It's not a quick fix bc the outcome depends on the SOLIDITY of your BELIEF to enact CHANGE on the 3D.

so pls don't drink dumb baby juice. drink pretty girl juice. drink intelligent master manifester juice. drink "in my favor" juice.

with laughs and love, xx, gigi

p.s. I do not believe that this is an excuse to remain ignorant about world events and news. I encourage you to remain informed, intelligent people who do not lack awareness and instead are fully immersed in the nuance of balancing high self-esteem and understanding the political climate.

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domjaehyun · 1 year

Text

PL4YG1RL IS LIVE…

“are you lonely? are you stressed out? you deserve some fun. get your headphones, lock up the bedroom door, log on.” — PL4YG1RL, LOLO ZOUAÏ

PAIRING(S). na jaemin x fem!reader GENRE(S). thriller/suspense, yandere, smut, angst WORD COUNT. 20.6k WARNINGS. noncon, stalking, kidnapping, violence, mentions of blood, explicit smut (protected sex, unprotected sex, forced breeding, oral (receiving), nipple play (receiving), masturbation (male & female), defiling of a stuffed animal, fingering, i think that’s it) SUMMARY. you’re an up-and-coming camgirl, and na jaemin is a loyal supporter of your work–that is, until jaemin decides to take things to the next level. PLAYLIST. PL4YG1RL - Lolo Zouaï, ALL MINE - Brent Faiyaz, ALL UP IN YOUR MIND - Beyoncé, Can I - Kehlani, Menace - Dounia

NOTES. hello… don’t crucify me. this is for halloween :) *insert obligatory “i don’t think these people are actually like this” statement that will protect me from anon hate* *insert compulsory “read the warnings and don’t come for me about content i warned you about” statement that will also protect me from anon hate*

if you read this fic, you assume full responsibility for consuming the content below, whether you read the warnings or not.

Saturday night, and Jaemin has nothing to do.

He sends a text to his group chat to see what they're up to before remembering it’s well past midnight. Rubbing a hand over his face, Jaemin pulls his laptop toward his body and onto his stomach. His fingers move of their own accord, typing in his favorite adult entertainment website and waiting as it loads.

Index and middle fingers lazily scrolling through the copious amounts of explicit videos, Jaemin sighs heavily before an ad for a cam girl website catches his eye. A moment of hesitation, then a click takes him to the webpage, the background a lovely shade of pink as all the elements of the page load.

Jaemin is met with thumbnails of pretty girls in various states of undress, but no one is scratching the itch he has which is building up inside of him. A banner drops down from the top of the screen, attracting Jaemin’s attention.

PrettyKitty345 is now live.

Out of curiosity, he clicks, and the screen buffers for a moment before loading up a pretty girl with dark brown hair gazing seductively into the camera. Jaemin lingers for a moment until she speaks, her voice a perfect match for the sultry look she’s giving the viewers.

Jaemin’s not into that, really. He likes them a little less deliberate, more effortlessly pretty. He clicks away and another banner comes down as if enticing Jaemin to stay on the website just a bit longer.

FunBunny is now live.

Another curious click brings Jaemin to the live feed of another pretty girl with white bunny ears on, whose voice is high and soft, a blatant contrast to PrettyKitty345 from earlier. Her performance is a bit too…childlike for Jaemin’s taste, discomfort swirling in his belly as he clicks away.

PL4YG1RL is now live.

Jaemin sighs. He clicks—out of boredom, he tells himself—to enter the live feed. The second the screen finishes loading, Jaemin freezes in surprise.

You are quite literally the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Sitting up slowly, Jaemin moves the laptop to rest between his legs as he studies your setup carefully.

“Hello, pretty girl,” Jaemin whispers, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “Where did you come from?”

You’re sitting on your heels on your bed, wearing a lacy pink slip dress and a sweet, kind expression. Jaemin can practically feel the warmth radiating from your gaze, and he wets his lips as he sits forward, waiting for you to speak.

“Hi, everyone,” you say, and Jaemin’s eyes squeeze shut as he groans in ecstasy.

You’re perfect. Your voice is every bit as lovely as you look, and there’s something so genuine about the way you carry yourself on camera that has Jaemin falling rapidly.

“How is everyone doing? Have you all had a good day today?” you ask, and Jaemin scrambles to reply, a window popping up that blocks the chat.

“‘You will need an account to participate in the live chat’—oh, fuck.” Jaemin mumbles, opening a new window and quickly signing up with the website. It asks for a payment option so you can send tips, so Jaemin brings his laptop with him to his coat pocket in the foyer of his house, fumbling single handedly with taking out his wallet and pulling out a card.

Meanwhile, you’re reading through the responses coming in from the chat. “You’ve had a bad day, NiceGuy19? I’m sorry to hear that,” you frown and Jaemin’s heart clenches at how cute you are. He finishes inputting his credit card information and the window preventing him from typing in the chat box disappears.

NaJaem13: had a good day

NaJaem13: was feeling kinda bored though

He makes his way back to his bedroom, climbing onto his bed and setting the laptop back down.

“NaJaem13, you’re bored? I’m kinda bored, too.” you hum, and Jaemin feels a fluttering in his chest. “Maybe we could entertain each other,” you propose, a playful smile curling your lips, and Jaemin decides in that exact moment that he’s sticking around in this stream until it’s over.

NaJaem13: sounds good :)

Jaemin watches, content, as you make conversation with other patrons, and when you start playing soft R&B music in the background and swaying to the music with a pleasant smile, tips start to come in.

First it’s 20 tokens, which, Jaemin quickly searches up, is barely anything. Your eyes light up, however, and you thank the tipper gratefully.

Next comes 50 tokens, and it’s almost as if it’s a competition between the bidders, Jaemin watching in silent awe as the numbers increase to 75, 100, 150, 200– You can barely thank the donors quickly enough, a delighted laugh tumbling off your tongue that has Jaemin’s heart soaring.

Jaemin thanks his lucky stars that he just got paid this Thursday, and with a few clicks of his trackpad, he tips you 350 tokens.

“Thank you so much, NaJaem13!” You smile widely, bouncing slightly in place with excitement. Jaemin’s heart clenches; he’d do anything for that smile.

NiceGuy19: how much to take your dress off?

Jaemin can’t help but bristle at how forward “NiceGuy” is. Your brows raise in intrigue as you read through the chat, replying as best as you can to the messages coming in.

“NiceGuy19, if you’d like me to start taking clothes off, I have my goals for tonight on the display next to my feed,” you say politely.

Sure enough, Jaemin looks at the text to the left of your feed and sees that there are options to have you remove your dress, underwear, bra, dance around, play with a vibrator, dildo, or other sex toys, and Jaemin’s brain honestly fizzles out at the options asking you to do more. His mind is reeling thinking about his hands on your hips, moving you from position to position—

Jaemin’s hand finds his length before he even knows it, fingers gripping the thick base of his shaft and pumping his fist up and down.

Tips start escalating in value, the counter of tips received going up and nearing the numbers listed in your goals, and Jaemin hisses in delight when you run your hand up from your lap and over your breast to fix your hair casually. When you move to sit cross-legged on the bed, Jaemin catches a flash of your light pink underwear before you press your dress down between your legs and smile demurely.

Jaemin’s hand speeds up, pumping his length in his fist rapidly as he daydreams about stripping you of your dress, running his hand over the lace of your underwear and toying with you until a pretty little damp spot appears in the seat of them. Then he’d pull them down your legs slowly, revealing your bare core, and tuck himself under your thighs, bringing his face level to your glistening—

Jaemin’s cumming before he even knows it, his release spurting out and landing on his shirt before the last drops dribble down his fist; he keeps going, however—fucking his hand slowly until he can’t bear it anymore and releasing himself with a shudder and a tensing of his abdomen that borders on painful.

Catching his breath, Jaemin watches you in a daze, eyes heavy-lidded as they drink in the sight of you. He studies your face, admiring your lips—

How he wishes to see those pretty lips wrapped around his fingers or his cock. How he’d love to watch them moan his name as he pleases you.

He watches your eyes—

So sweet and unsuspecting; he wants to watch those pretty eyes glaze over when he turns you into a pretty, drooling mess. He’d love to see your eyes all glossy with tears when he breaks you into the perfect little fuckdoll for him.

Your neck—

His hands itch to wrap around your neck, squeeze until you’re gasping for air, and release you not a moment too soon, lips littering kisses all over the heated skin as you desperately suck in fresh gulps of air.

He wants to fucking ruin you—destroy you, break you, make you his and utterly his alone. The desire is building, and it’s building rapidly—Jaemin has never felt this way before.

His gaze drops to your legs, lifts to your breasts, runs over your body eagerly—

His tongue gliding over the swell of your breasts, fingers digging into your thighs greedily, hot and hungry—ripping off your clothes and revealing you to him, raw, bare, vulnerable; he wants you utterly exposed so he can take you for himself. Ruin any other man for you, have his name on the tip of your tongue every time you climax, memories of his touch ghosting over your most sensitive places at any given moment—

The rest of your live is short—technical difficulties cause you to have to end the stream earlier than expected with a precious frown and sweet, sincere apology—but you promise to see everyone again at the same time on Tuesday night, and Jaemin already knows he’ll be there because he’s sure of one thing, and one thing only.

Jaemin wants you—and he wants you bad.

You check your reflection in the camera one last time before sitting back and clicking the live button. Casually scrolling through your phone, you wait for viewers to come in, adjusting the light pink slip you’re wearing.

NiceGuy19: hi playgirl

“Hi, NiceGuy19,” you say with a smile, looking into the camera as you speak next. “Are you doing alright tonight?”

NiceGuy19: doing so well now that you’re live

“Oh, thank you,” you chuckle bashfully.

A few more comments start to roll in as your live picks up traction, and you do your best to answer each one, giving everyone the attention they’re requesting.

A familiar handle pops up and you can’t help but smile.

“Hi, NaJaem13,” you smile just a bit wider, wanting to really cater to the user who gives the most generous tips. “It’s nice to see you again.”

NaJaem13: couldn’t stay away from you

“You’re so smooth,” you laugh, amused by his boldness. “You must have broken a lot of hearts, huh?”

NaJaem13: maybe a few

“I missed you last week,” you pout at the camera, and several tips come in. “You left me.”

NaJaem13: won’t happen again

NaJaem13: i promise

He can promise anything he wants as long as the tips keep coming in. You smile at his response and proceed to give your other tippers attention—they paid for a show and you’ll give them one.

You’re still playing it up for the camera, answering a few more questions and thanking the tippers, when a hefty tip and a comment by NaJaem13 catch your eye.

NaJaem13: wish i could have you to myself

You can’t help but raise a brow in intrigue, silently hoping he’s as attractive as he seems.

“NaJaem13, you can always book me for a private show,” you offer, pointing to the left of your screen at the drop down list of booking options.

NaJaem13: my name is Jaemin btw

“Nice to meet you, Jaemin,” you coo, giving a small wave to the camera.

A banner notification drops down on your screen and you read the words curiously.

NiceGuy19 has requested a private show.

You mask your disappointment—that wasn’t exactly who you were aiming for, but it’s still a good thing—and click ‘Accept,’ the time of the show taking you by surprise.

You’re not sure if NiceGuy19 and NaJaem13—Jaemin, you think; his name is Jaemin—are in some sort of competition, but it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that he booked you for a show for the duration of the time you would be on live…right after you offered a private show to Jaemin.

You actually don’t fully care if they’re beefing or whatever—the money in your pocket is taking no sides—so you just flash a regretful smile at the camera, fixing your hair.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but I have a private show scheduled for right now; I have to cut the live short.” you frown apologetically, and several responses, ranging from sad to annoyed to understanding, flood the chat. “I know, guys, I’m sorry, truly. I’ll be here next week for sure, okay?”

NiceGuy19: see you in a minute ;)

NaJaem13: have fun NiceGuy

NaJaem13: have a good night playgirl :)

“You too, Jaemin,” you hum kindly, giving one last wave before turning off the camera.

Things escalate the following week when Jaemin decides he isn’t about to let NiceGuy19 swoop in and steal you away again.

After a couple of moments of futzing around on the website page, Jaemin finds the link to book you for a private session and fumbles through the process with excited fingers. He books you for tonight, right after your public show, and sits back in excitement as he waits for his time alone with you.

PL4YG1RL has accepted your request for a private show.

His phone lights up, likely a confirmation from his banking app that the transaction went through, and Jaemin can’t help but wince at the steep deduction his account’s going to be hit with.

It’s worth it, though, because he gets you.

After what feels like ages, your show finally ends and the display goes black. A buffering symbol appears on the screen, only heightening his anticipation for you.

After a couple of minutes, your screen loads and Jaemin is practically blown away by your beauty.

Yes, he just saw you, but he’ll never get tired of watching you.

“Hi, NaJaem,” you hum, smiling. “My favorite viewer—how are you tonight?”

Jaemin’s mouth goes dry as he sits forward to type out a reply.

NaJaem13: i’m better now that you’re here

NaJaem13: how’s my favorite girl doing?

“Your favorite girl? Stop, you’ll make me shy,” you laugh, and Jaemin smiles widely even though you can’t see him.

NaJaem13: i like you shy

NaJaem13: it’s cute

“You’re such a charmer,” you giggle. “Is there something you’d like me to do for you tonight?”

Jaemin thinks for a minute; he didn’t fully have a plan—he just wanted you all to himself for a night.

You’re patient while he thinks, humming a soft tune to yourself, and Jaemin marvels at just how lovely you are.

His eyes land on something almost out of frame, and he smiles.

NaJaem13: is that a stuffed animal?

Your head cocks to the side in confusion and Jaemin coos affectionately, finding you adorable. You look around you, your eyes lighting up in recognition as you pull a large teddy bear onto the screen from out of frame.

“Yes, it is!” you chirp, and Jaemin wets his lips with his tongue before typing out another message.

NaJaem13: i want you to ride that teddy bear until you cum

NaJaem13: can you do that for me?

Your eyes widen as you look from the screen to the stuffed animal in your hands and back to the screen. Nibbling your lower lip pensively, you nod, and Jaemin could just burst with excitement. You bring your setup to your bed before lying the bear down and straddling it. You start to rock your hips against the tan plushie, your brows furrowing in concentration, and Jaemin watches you with hungry eyes, his hand moving to palm himself through his sweats.

NaJaem13: just like that, angel

NaJaem13: doing so good

You whimper as your eyes flick to the screen, and he groans in delight, squeezing himself harder and starting to stroke himself.

NaJaem13: how does it feel?

“So good,” you exhale shakily, and he grunts, pushing into his boxers and gripping his length, hot and heavy, at the base.

NaJaem13: you look so pretty right now

NaJaem13: can you say my name, angel?

“Jaemin,” you moan, rocking onto the stuffie more eagerly. Your hands move from the bed to graze up your legs and torso until they’re cupping your breasts, squeezing them and shuddering with pleasure. “Jaemin, I think I’m close.” Your words come out as breathy pants that have Jaemin’s hand eagerly speeding up as he pumps his fist up and down his cock.

NaJaem13: good

NaJaem13: keep going baby. just like that

“Jaemin, can I cum?” you ask, desperation all over your face, and Jaemin nods vigorously, feeling his own climax approach, before realizing that you can’t see him.

NaJaem13: you can cum, angel

NaJaem13: cum for nana

“Nana,” you plead in a broken whine, and Jaemin watches in awe as your rocking speeds up—he tries to match the pace with his hand—and your head tips back as your climax hits. Whimpers fall from your lips freely until you bite your lip to stifle the sounds—an action, Jaemin notes, that he wishes you hadn’t done.

You are, without a doubt, the most mesmerizing sight he’s laid his eyes on in ages, and Jaemin’s climax comes rushing in without a moment’s hesitation.

Jaemin’s cock throbs in his hand and his eyes shut tightly as he thrusts up into his hand, cum spilling from the slit and dribbling down his fist, warm and wet and white.

“God, fuck,” he groans in delight, eagerly sitting forward to study you closely. You’re still straddling the stuffed animal, and your eyes are visibly glazed over even through the computer screen. There’s a beautiful lazy, content smile on your lips, and Jaemin wishes he could take you in his arms and kiss your smile over and over again.

NaJaem13: you are so beautiful

NaJaem13: you did such a good job

“Jaemin, please, all this praise is getting to my head,” you joke, grinning bashfully, and he can’t help but chuckle fondly.

NaJaem13: good

NaJaem13: you deserve it

NaJaem13: wish i could see that pretty smile in person

You look away shyly, smiling and there’s a moment that passes in which Jaemin realizes you’re debating on whether or not to say something.

NaJaem13: what’s wrong?

“Nothing, actually,” you say sincerely, and Jaemin hums in intrigue. “I just wanted to let you know that I have some in-person slots—”

Holy shit.

NaJaem13: i’ll be sure to book one with you

“Oh—awesome,” you reply, smiling sweetly. Jaemin’s heart could burst right now and he’d die a happy man. “The link is that way,” you explain, pointing to the left of the screen, and sure enough, there’s a series of links, one titled “Book a Session.”

NaJaem13: found it

You shoot him a thumbs up before looking off-screen for a moment, whatever you lay eyes on making you frown cutely. “I’m sorry, but we only have about three more minutes together tonight.”

NaJaem13: don’t worry about it

NaJaem13: get some sleep

Jaemin sends you a generous tip, your eyes widening in surprise when it shows up on your screen.

“Thank you, Jaemin,” you say gratefully, a shocked but pleased smile on your pretty lips. “Hopefully I see you again soon.”

NaJaem13: you will

You wave for a moment, then the screen goes black and a message shows up on the screen.

Your session with PL4YG1RL has ended.

Jaemin doesn’t want to let you book with anyone else; not after having you all to himself. He clicks the link you pointed to a moment ago, impatiently drumming his fingers on the keyboard as it loads, and the new page shows a calendar with appointment slots highlighted. Jaemin books the earliest available appointment for Tuesday at 4:00pm and sits back excitedly as the confirmation page loads.

Your appointment has been booked. Please check your email for your confirmation and further instructions.

Jaemin navigates to his email and reads over the list of stipulations. They seem standard and easy enough—like submitting a clean and recent STI test update—and a set of rules during the session—like always wearing a condom—and Jaemin scrolls and scrolls and scrolls some more until he sees the address you’re supposed to meet up at, and he smiles widely, saving it to his notes.

Three days until Jaemin meets the object of his affections. Jaemin feels like a child on Christmas Eve—well, the eve of Christmas Eve’s eve. He can hardly wait.

Jaemin sits in the hotel lobby, knee bouncing nervously as he waits for you. He scans the faces of everyone who enters the lobby curiously, his heart falling in disappointment when none of them are you.

You’re not late, Jaemin’s just early—and eager.

As a matter of fact, you walk in right on time, more beautiful than ever in a cute blouse and skirt combination. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so excited in his life.

He stands up and walks over to you, smiling when you two lock eyes.

“Jaemin?” you say curiously, and he nods, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

He is beyond handsome, you think. You got lucky.

“Hey,” he replies, stepping a bit closer to you.

“Hi,” you parrot, admittedly taken aback by how attractive he is. “Are you, um, ready to go up?”

“I was actually thinking we could…hang out, kind of.” Jaemin says carefully, scanning your face for any sort of negative reaction.

“Oh?” you ask. “Like a date?”

“Yeah!” he confirms. “Like a date.”

“Okay,” you agree, smiling at the prospect of a date with him.

“We can go out to a café or restaurant, maybe? Only if you want. It’d be my treat.” he proposes, and your smile widens. He’s cute when he’s nervous.

“Sounds good to me.”

He grins and offers you his arm, your brows raising in an impressed surprise at his manners as you take it, the two of you heading towards the front door.

“So tell me about yourself, Jaemin,” you say, raising an eyebrow curiously. You two sit in a café over drinks and pastries, Jaemin eager to get to know you.

“Oh, uh…I don’t know,” he answers with a chuckle. “I’m in college…I have a brother…”

“Ooh, college?” you ask. “What are you studying?”

“Photography,” he answers, and you let out an impressed hum.

“Very cool,” you say encouragingly. “And you mentioned a brother? Older or younger?”

“Older,” Jaemin replies. “He’s a cop, actually.”

“Oh, wow.” you murmur, intrigued.

“Can I hear more about you?” Jaemin asks, sitting forward. “What do you like? What do you like to do?”

“Hm,” you muse, looking up in thought. “I like deer,” you finally answer, “and bunnies.”

Jaemin thinks that’s fitting for you.

“I like my job,” you continue. “Meeting all these different people is interesting.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Jaemin’s thoughts won’t stay quiet, urging him to get them off of his chest.

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever fake it?”

“Fake…?” Your head tilts to the side in confusion.

Jaemin already regrets asking. “Um, I mean, like, when you’re with other clients, and you—”

“I know what you mean, Jaemin,” you laugh. “I’m just teasing.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“Off the record? All the time.”

“No way.” Jaemin can’t hide his shock.

“I probably fake it more times than I don’t.” You shrug, and he sits back in surprise.

“And that doesn’t get exhausting for you?”

“I can’t lie, it’s kind of fun to play it up every time.” you murmur conspiratorially, and Jaemin laughs.

You’re playful. You’re letting him know things you don’t tell other people.

There’s definitely something here.

“How do you know they don’t know you’re faking it?” he asks curiously, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Jaemin.”

“Hm?”

“You really think they care if I finish or not?”

“Oh,” Jaemin mutters. He hadn’t thought about that. “I would care.”

“Oh, yeah?” you hum playfully, nudging his foot with yours under the table. “Well, thank you. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Jaemin’s heart could give out right now. You’re flirting with him.

“Next time?” he says hopefully. “So I can see you again?”

You give him a small but flirtatious smile. “That’s up to you.”

The first session ends as well as Jaemin could have hoped. You got a little beneath surface level with him, flirted with him, laughed with him—Jaemin thinks you might even be starting to like him.

He saw the way you eyed him when you first met; you’re definitely attracted to him.

So he books you again.

And again.

And…again.

Jaemin can barely keep his eyes off of you. All you’re doing is ordering a drink at the counter, but you’re a vision of beauty in a soft yellow flowing dress, your hair tastefully styled away from your face, and his mind is racing with everything he wants to do to you.

It’s your fourth time together, and Jaemin still hasn’t made a move. He wants you so badly but wants you to want him too, so he’s been trying to get closer to you. He thinks it’s working, actually, because you seem to brighten whenever you catch sight of him.

And all of that is well and good, but it doesn’t solve the problem he’s having right now. The very sight of you has his cock stirring in his pants.

“Are you okay, Jaemin?” you ask curiously, snapping him out of his thoughts. You’re looking at him with furrowed brows of concern, and Jaemin almost feels bad for worrying you.

“I’m alright,” he assures you, leaning forward to pay for your drink, and your face relaxes, the two of you walking over to the other side of the counter to wait for your drink. He stands just behind you, scanning your frame with desiring eyes. When you shift your weight from one foot to the other, a waft of your delicate perfume drifts into his face, and he has to control himself to restrain the groan that builds in his throat.

He decides to make his move—this isn’t how he planned for things to go today, but fuck it—and place his hands on your hips, squeezing you and pulling you closer to him.

“Hi,” you laugh, craning your neck to look back at him.

“Mm,” Jaemin nuzzles into your hair and breathes in the sweet scent of your shampoo. “Hi. You smell so good.”

“Thank you,” you chuckle, leaning back against him.

“And you look even better.” His voice is lower now, more seductive, and you hesitate, his tone piquing your curiosity and stirring up arousal in your stomach.

“T-Thank you,” you mumble, feeling shy now, and it’s Jaemin’s turn to chuckle, nosing past your hair to trail his lips along the shell of your ear. You take in a sharp breath at the somewhat ticklish sensation, your head tilting of its own accord to allow him more access to your neck.

His soft exhale sends warmth fanning over the sensitive area of skin, and you squirm slightly, arousal building as his lips press wet, slow, purposeful kisses down your ear to the spot just behind it.

“Jaemin,” you warn softly, your voice whinier and huskier than you expected it to be. “We can’t do this here.”

He peppers light kisses down your neck until he’s at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, where he gently bites the skin there, relishing the whine you let out.

“I have an iced chai latte with almond milk!” the barista calls, and you move forward to pick it up, only to find yourself restrained by Jaemin’s strong arm anchoring you against him.

“Jaemin,” you whisper, “I have to get the drink.” You can’t help but laugh when he shuffles forwards with you to pick up the cup before you turn around—not without difficulty—in his embrace to face him, your eyes drifting from his darkened, lust-filled ones to his lips and back up. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Do you have any idea how good you look?” he groans, and you blink twice, stunned by the wave of arousal that has overcome him. “That little dress is just tempting me.”

You cock an eyebrow curiously. “Tempting you to do what?”

Jaemin leans in so your lips are barely apart from each other and wets his lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “Rip it off of you.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, instead closing the distance between you two in a kiss—your first one together—that leaves you reeling. You suck in a breath of air when your lips part, Jaemin immediately pulling you back to him with a deeper kiss, his tongue playing almost lazily with yours. He sucks on your bottom lip and releases you from the liplock when you tap his chest repeatedly to get his attention.

“The hotel down the block,” you murmur against his mouth as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, “the one we met at. I have a room.”

“Let’s go,” he says immediately, linking his fingers with yours and tugging you after him.

You two manage to make it back to the hotel quickly, hustling into the elevator where Jaemin all but pounces on you, pressing you up against the wall as the doors slide shut. The rail behind you digs uncomfortably into your back, but Jaemin’s lips on your neck distract you enough to the point where you no longer care.

“Wanted to do this for so long,” he grunts, sucking at the base of your neck and dragging his teeth along the patch of skin, making you gasp. “You’re so fucking tempting.”

“Jaemin,” you moan, your fingers sliding up his back to curl in his hair at the nape of his neck and tug. “That feels so good.” Desire blooms between your legs, warmth radiating out from your core to the rest of your body as you feel arousal start to leak from you.

“Yeah?” he hums, moving back up to kiss your lips. “Gonna make you feel even better.”

As if on cue, the elevator dings and the doors open on your floor, the two of you quickly making your way down the hall to your hotel room. Jaemin chuckles as you fumble around in your purse for the room key card, finally managing to catch it between your fingers and pull it out victoriously.

You swipe the two of you in, and Jaemin barely lets the door shut before he’s pressing you up against the wall, his thigh slotting between your legs with ease. He threads his fingers in your hair, thumb caressing your jaw, and tilts your head towards him for easier access. His free hand slides around your waist, resting on the small of your back and pulling you closer to him.

“Jaemin,” you pant, pushing at his jacket to get it off of his shoulders and finally discarding it on the floor, “the bed.”

“Can’t I play with you a little bit right here?” he hums teasingly, his hand dropping from your back to hike up the hem of your dress. He strokes up the smooth flesh of your inner thigh and you hiss in pleasure, parting your legs wider for him.

“Yeah,” you exhale, and he grins.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yes, Jaemin, please?” You sound impatient, and Jaemin smiles at the thought of you as desperate as him.

“Okay, angel,” he acquiesces, slipping his hand up higher until they’re stroking the lace of your underwear. His fingers push the garment aside until he’s taunting you by stroking at your folds which are now slick with arousal, and the whine that spills from your lips is well worth the wait.

“More,” you whisper, and his fingers dip into your wetness immediately, eager to give you everything you want and then some.

“How’s that?” he muses, a playful smile on his lips as two of his fingers push into you, and you cry out in pleasure, gripping his shoulder with one hand to brace yourself as he curls his fingers and starts pumping them inside of you.

“S’good,” you whine, your head tipping back against the wall, and Jaemin presses his lips against yours firmly, startling you.

“I don’t want you faking it,” he urges, and your eyes widen as you nod, having forgotten you told him about that.

“I won’t,” you promise breathlessly, and he smiles, his fingers speeding up inside of you. “Just like that, oh, God—”

“You’re so wet,” he hums, the tip of his tongue flicking at your bottom lip teasingly. “You must really like me.” When your only reply is a plaintive moan, he grins proudly and kisses down to your collarbone, biting it gently as his fingers continue to thrust into you. It’s not too long before his fingers fuck directly into your g-spot and your hips start unconsciously grinding down to get more of him inside of you.

“Jaemin—”

“Nana,” he corrects, suddenly overcome with the need to hear you call him by his nickname.

“Nana—” you moan, “I’m close, I’m so close—”

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum all over my fingers, angel?” he’s practically taunting you, and the anticipation builds in your chest just as your pleasure builds in your lower abdomen.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, yes, please?”

“Cum for me, baby.” Jaemin watches in fascination as you ride his fingers to your climax, your chest pushing into his as your back arches, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight in his life.

When your climax finally subsides, you look at him with pretty, glazed over eyes and a shy yet beguiling smile that has Jaemin wanting to pin you down and make you cum over and over again.

But first, Jaemin has something else on his mind.

“Angel?” Jaemin asks carefully, and you cock your head curiously, waiting for his next words. “Can I feel your mouth around me?”

You don’t say anything, but your smile widens and you sink to your knees, opening his pants teasingly slowly, eyes locked on his until your hand wraps around the thick base of his length.

“You’re so big,” you hum in delight, and Jaemin smiles fondly, the expression dropping off his face abruptly when you exhale warm air over the head of his length, a small laugh falling from your lips when he shudders and he twitches in your hand.

You lay your tongue out flat, blinking up at him before dragging your tongue up his length slowly, swirling it around the tip before wrapping your lips around him and starting to bob your head up and down, your hands stroking at what you can’t yet fit in your mouth.

“God, fuck,” Jaemin grunts, his brows knitting together as you suck him off. You pull off of him and look him directly in the eyes as you let saliva drip off your tongue and onto his length. The wet warmth sliding down his cock only makes Jaemin hiss in pleasure when you resume your actions of sucking and stroking, using the spit as lubricant.

“So good,” he croaks, thrusting forward unconsciously. His cock hits the back of your throat and your throat constricts as you gag slightly, the sensation feeling like bliss to Jaemin. “Shit, sorry,” he apologizes, and you shake your head, pulling off of him.

“Do it again,” you urge, and his brows raise up so high they practically disappear into his hairline.

“You want it, yeah?” He’s breathless, his hand wrapping over yours and aiding you in stroking him. “Angel wants Nana’s cock in her pretty little mouth?”

“Yes,” you say, pouting, and Jaemin feels like his heart could just explode. “Please, Nana?”

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles, awestruck and in heaven. “Anything for you, angel. Open up.” He taps his cock against your lips, grinning when you part them and let your tongue loll out of your mouth. He rubs the head of his length against your tongue for a moment before slowly pushing into your mouth and starting to thrust. The faint wet gagging noises only add to the ambience, Jaemin’s grunts and pants helping to create a lustful soundscape.

“You like when I fuck your pretty little mouth?” he asks, and you nod, whining around him and sending vibrations all down his length. “You are so perfect,” he murmurs, infatuated with the sight of you on your knees for him.

His thrusts speed up until he’s fucking into your mouth with sharp pumps, low groans leaving his lips freely.

You’re taking it like a champ, Jaemin thinks, watching in fascination as your eyes go glassy, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes before they start spilling down your cheeks. You are the prettiest thing he has ever seen, and the realization and wave of adoration he feels has him pulling out of your mouth abruptly.

“On the bed,” he urges, and you oblige, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. He hovers over you, encroaching on your space until you’re on your back, a playful smile on your lips as you look up at him. “Let’s get these off,” he murmurs, hiking up your dress to hook his fingers in your underwear and pull them off your legs. When your glistening core is exposed to him, he groans, pumping his cock in his fist slowly as he adjusts you further up the bed.

Jaemin fishes out the condom he brought from his pants pocket on the floor, ripping the package open and rolling it on impatiently, before he presses his cock against your core, the head nestling between your folds to rest just before your entrance.

He pushes into you slowly, a whoosh of relief leaving his lungs, and you clench around him, mewling at the sensation of him filling you up.

“So big,” you moan, and he leans over you again to capture your lips with his, kissing you sweetly to distract you from the discomfort as it ebbs away.

“You’re so good,” Jaemin mumbles in a daze, silently praying you adjust soon so he can fuck you. “Doing so well.”

“You can move,” you urge him in a soft voice, and he presses another kiss to your lips before straightening his back, draping one of your legs over his shoulder and pulling out to the tip before burying himself in your walls once more.

He quickly builds up a pace that has broken moans falling from your lips and grunts from his, the sounds of skin slapping against skin resonating through the hotel room.

“Feels so good, angel,” Jaemin practically babbles, losing his sensibility the longer he fucks you. “So tight and wet, shit—”

You respond with a flex of your walls around his length that draws an uncharacteristic whimper from him, and he can feel the beginnings of his climax stirring just behind his navel. He brings two fingers to his mouth and withdraws the now spit-slicked digits to bring them to your clit, massaging circles into the sensitive bud.

You’re in bliss as Jaemin stimulates your clit with skillful strokes. He thrusts into you at a different angle than before and your nails dig into the bedspread as his tip kisses your g-spot.

“Oh, my God, right there!” You cry, and he grins smugly, complying and thrusting into the sensitive patch of nerves over and over again as your climax approaches rapidly. “Jaemin—” you plead, rocking back against him desperately.

“Are you gonna cum again, angel?” he coos sweetly, and his grin only widens at your eager nod. “Good; cum for me, baby. Cum all over Nana’s cock.”

Pleasure washes over you in waves as your orgasm rushes through your body, and all you can do is whimper Jaemin’s name over and over as you ride out your high.

“Hang in there, baby, I’m close,” he groans, his thrusts speeding up as he focuses on getting himself to finish. He cums not long after you do, releasing into the condom with a shudder rippling down his spine. He hangs his head as he catches his breath and slowly pulls out of you, tying off the condom and heading to the garbage bin by the side of the bed. “Are you okay?” he asks, and you smile blissfully, nodding.

“I’m great,” you assure him, and he sighs in relief.

“Good,” he replies. “Hold on one second,” he murmurs, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment and returning with a damp washcloth and you giggle as he cleans you up and then himself.

“You’re such a gentleman,” you say, smiling, and he shrugs bashfully. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he answers softly, lying down on the bed beside you after he’s pulled his boxers back up. “Was that good?” His voice sounds more worried than he planned to let on, but there’s no taking it back now.

“It was amazing, Jaemin,” you reassure him, and he nods, smiling shyly.

Jaemin really thinks this could be something special. He’s sure of one thing—he’s definitely booking you at every available opportunity.

“Girl, where are you headed today?” Yuna laughs incredulously as you start packing up your things.

“I have an appointment.” You smile secretively, and Ryujin sits up from her spot on the couch, a skeptical furrow between her brows.

“With that same guy from earlier this week?” She asks, and you nod. “You do realize that he’s booked you literally every day this week, right?”

“Of course I realize that,” you snort in amusement. “More importantly, my bank account realizes that.”

“You see that guy more times in a week than you do us,” Yuna huffs with a pout, and you mirror her expression sympathetically.

“You’re being dramatic; there’s no way I’ve seen him more than you guys,” you reply, and Yuna rolls her eyes, Ryujin sighing in mild frustration.

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Ryujin exclaims, and you shoot her a look.

“Be for real,” you say flatly. “Think of it like…I work in a diner, and I’m picking up extra shifts.”

“Things must be getting real heated in that diner if he keeps coming back.” Ryujin teases, and you throw the nearest item—a pillow from Yuna’s couch—at her, laughing when it hits its mark.

“You know, he’s actually really good in bed. It’s kind of crazy that he’s single,” you muse thoughtfully. “Besides, sometimes we don’t even have sex.”

“Really?” Ryujin raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Does he ask you to do kinky fetish stuff, like walk on his back in stilettos?” Yuna asks curiously, and you and Ryujin look at her, bewildered.

“Wh—Where did that even come from?” Ryujin laughs.

“You know, I have actually done that before…but, no, not for him.” You wave off Ryujin’s and Yuna’s intrigued spluttering and continue on with, “I mean, sometimes we just…go get coffee, hang out, watch movies.”

“These just sound like paid dates.” Yuna points out, and you shrug.

“I mean, if he’s paying, he can ask me to do damn near anything, really,” you laugh, and Ryujin snickers.

“Well, we won’t hold you up, okay? Go get that bag!” she chirps, and you blink at her slowly.

“…Stop picking up lingo from TikTok,” you say as your final words before you bid them goodbye with a wave and head out of Yuna’s apartment to go meet up with Jaemin.

“Whose pretty pussy is this?” Jaemin coos at you as he fucks into you, your legs over his shoulders as he presses you into the mattress.

“Yours, Jaemin,” you gasp loudly, and he shoots you that winning smile of his, turning his head to kiss your calf.

“No one fucks you like I do,” Jaemin grunts, cupping your chin with one hand and making eye contact with you. There’s an almost crazed look in his eyes, a wild energy that thrills you to your core. “No one could ever treat this pussy as good as I do.”

“No one,” you whimper in agreement, your mind slipping away as he thrusts into you. “Only you, Jaemin.”

“Love this pussy so much,” he mutters almost to himself, biting down on his bottom lip so hard you can see the pink skin of his lips surrounding his bite turning white. “Wanna keep you for myself—you’re all fucking mine.”

“‘M yours,” you mumble, slurring slightly as the pleasure clouds your brain. “Jaemin, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, angel,” he urges, and you fall apart around him without waiting another moment, crying his name out loudly as your nails scratch uselessly at the bedsheets. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, his head tipping back in ecstasy before his thrusts grow more erratic and finally come to a stop as he releases into the condom, ragged breaths leaving him.

Jaemin looks down at your figure, bare skin glistening with sweat, your hair all mussed up, and a fucked-out look on your face, and thinks to himself that this must be heaven on Earth, the male never having felt luckier than he does right now.

He pulls out of you carefully, quickly discarding the condom in the bedside trash can, and collapses beside you on the bed, a silence falling over you two as you catch your breath and get your bearings.

As you’re lying there, Ryujin’s and Yuna’s words from earlier come back to you, and a question begins to itch at your throat, begging to be asked. After moments of debating, you bite the bullet and ask.

“Hey, Jaemin?”

“Yeah?”

“How are you affording all these sessions? Aren’t you, like, a college student?” you ask curiously, and the silence that meets your question has you backtracking immediately. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business—”

“I don’t mind answering,” Jaemin speaks up, and you turn your head to see that he’s already done the same, brown eyes studying your face. “I have money stashed away in my savings, pretty good credit, and my job doesn’t pay too badly.” he answers, and you nod slowly in understanding.

“I hope you’re not blowing your savings on me,” you chuckle, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the notion of him spending his savings on you.

“Don’t worry about me, angel,” he hums. “Besides,” he continues, nudging you gently with his elbow, “I think you’re worth more than every cent.”

Your face warms up at the compliment and you mumble a bashful thank you. “I just don’t want you to land yourself in hot water because of me.”

“Trust me, angel,” Jaemin assures you, “I’m doing perfectly fine.”

So, Jaemin may have lied a bit.

A lot, actually.

Since meeting you, he’s fully blown through his savings—all $5,000 of it—royally fucked up his credit by maxing out his credit cards, borrowed far too much money from his older brother, and has now resorted to…is this embezzlement? Can you even embezzle a mom-and-pop shop?

Jaemin has to admit that he feels a bit guilty, Mrs. Kim’s kind face flashing in his mind as he pockets several bills from the cash register.

But it’s you, with those eyes, and that smile, and that laugh, and it’s you, with that sweet voice and the way you say his name, and—

It’s you.

And Jaemin would do anything for you. Even if it means making some fiscally irresponsible choices and committing a few reprehensible actions, he thinks as he navigates your booking website expertly and schedules another meeting with you for tomorrow afternoon.

Maybe, Jaemin thinks, he’ll take you shopping. He saw you eying a pretty silver bracelet in the window of a jewelry shop when you were walking around together the other day. Maybe he’ll get it for you as a gift.

The first time was an accident. Or at least that’s what Jaemin’s going with.

When he left the hotel room he’d rented for you two, he didn’t expect to see you still in the lobby, the picture of perfection as you look down at your phone, tapping at the screen.

Jaemin conceals himself behind a passing bellhop and his cart when you lift your head up to look around, and it’s almost like a magnet pulls him after you when you exit the building. He makes sure to keep you at a distance, not wanting you to catch him watching you.

Jaemin watches as you walk down the street, slowly following after you. You’re so sweet, so innocent…so unaware.

Someone could just snatch you up and have you at their mercy in a second.

So he’s protecting you. Or, at least, that’s what he’s going with.

Jaemin “protects” you on your walk, not even sure where you’re headed, but when he watches you fish out a set of keys and enter an apartment building, his body lights up with a thrill.

You’re heading home.

Jaemin very tentatively follows you into the large building and practically collapses with relief when you go to the mailboxes and take your mail out. He doesn’t find a way to justify following you up to your apartment, so he just…waits until the doors close on the elevator and walks over to your mailbox, looking at the unit number.

“Found you,” He sighs dreamily. If he inhales deeply enough, he can still smell your light fragrance in the air.

Now, the first time was an accident. The second time was a coincidence.

The third, fourth, and fifth times were anything but.

Jaemin follows you home after every single meeting you two have, evading detection every time. He swears up and down he’s protecting you, making sure no harm befalls you as you travel back to your place.

Sometimes, however, he catches himself entangled in a dark fantasy consisting of you and him and the lovely element of surprise and he can’t help but think that maybe he’s exactly who you would need protection from.

But he’s different, Jaemin thinks. He cares about you. He adores you. He…he loves you.

Plus, you make it too easy, he thinks. Never straying from your usual route home, never sparing a glance over your shoulder; it’s almost like you know he’s watching. Like you know he’s following your every move.

It’s almost like…you want him to follow you. Want him to engage in a little game of cat-and-mouse as he follows you—his prey—back to your place of safety and lies in wait to pounce.

You’re playing with him, Jaemin thinks, because you must have feelings for him too. Hell, you might even love him back.

Jaemin makes up his mind the eighth time he follows you home; nothing is going to stop him from being with you.

“Huh.” You pause when you step out of the elevator, the doors quietly shutting behind you.

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin asks, attempting to follow your gaze. “Oh, you have a package!”

“I don’t remember ordering anything, though,” you mumble, heading down the hallway to your front door. You check the package and sure enough, your first name is written on the small box.

“Well, are you gonna take it?” Ryujin watches you turn the package around in your hand.

“I mean…yeah, I guess.” You agree slowly, unlocking your door and heading into your apartment, Ryujin following after you. You set your bag down and immediately turn your attention to the package in your hand. You carefully and gingerly open the brown paper wrapping to reveal a small white box. You take the top off, revealing its interior, and gasp.

“What is it?” Ryujin asks, by your side in a moment as she looks into the box. “Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“That bracelet is beautiful,” Ryujin stammers, “not to mention how expensive it looks.”

You carefully take the silver tennis bracelet out of the box’s protective foam and stare at it in wonder. “It looks so familiar.”

“Put it on!” Ryujin encourages you with a nudge, and you nod dumbly, letting her fasten it around your wrist. You stare down at it in bewilderment, still having a hard time processing. “It looks so pretty on you,” she compliments, and you nod distractedly. It looks so familiar around your wrist—almost like you’ve worn it before. Your mind flashes with a memory and you freeze, staring down at the bracelet with wide eyes.

“Oh, my God.” You remember where you’ve seen it.

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin presses, looking from the bracelet to you.

You drop the box and step back from it as if it might bite you.

“I saw this during one of my appointments with Jaemin. We went to a jewelry store.” you recall slowly, apprehension trickling down your spine like ice cold water.

“Oh, okay! Why are you so nervous—wait a minute.” Ryujin goes still, and you nod encouragingly, hoping she makes the same deduction you just have.

“Do you think Jaemin bought it for you?” she asks, and you nod again, raising your eyebrows for emphasis. “But how did he get it—to your—oh, what the fuck—”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” you exclaim, and Ryujin waves her hands around as she silently tries to make sense of everything. “Does he—does he fucking know where I live or something?”

“How would he know where you live?” Ryujin asks in disbelief.

“I don’t know, but it got here somehow!” you whisper-yell, and she nods, her gaze drifting from your panicked eyes to the floor.

“There’s a note,” she points out, and you follow her gaze to the small slip of paper sticking out from under the foam in the box. You stoop to pick it up and blink down at the note.

“It’s just a heart,” you mutter, and Ryujin purses her lips thoughtfully.

“Damn. Was kinda hoping it’d have some sort of identifying information,” she mumbles, and you sigh.

“Me too,” you grumble, your mood souring. “Maybe,” you say hesitantly, “I should stop seeing Jaemin so much.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Ryujin agrees, “at least until you figure out what’s going on.”

You sigh in resignation. “Yeah. I hope this doesn’t end up blowing up in my face.”

Something is off.

Jaemin hasn’t seen you or spoken to you in eight consecutive days. When he looks at your booking website, your usual appointment slots are grayed out and unclickable. Every time he gets close to scheduling an appointment, it’s miraculously canceled and his money refunded, stating that there was a schedule conflict.

If that wasn’t enough, Jaemin has been attending your lives, and you haven’t given him any attention at all. He knows lives probably get overwhelming, especially when you have a large audience, but he doesn’t even get more than a thank you and a smile—a polite one, not the smile he’s come to adore—when he tips you.

He has no idea what’s going on, but his mind is reeling with possibilities, each more disastrous than the last.

You could be ignoring him. Avoiding him, possibly.

You could be scheduling with other people. Letting other clients touch what’s his.

Jaemin bristles with anger. The thought of another person’s hands on you, their name leaving your lips in a moan of pleasure, your beautiful smile directed at someone that’s not him drives him into a fit of rage.

Thoughts and images of you with another person flash in his mind, tormenting him, and he clutches his head, pressing his fingers into his skin as hard as possible to offset the emotional pain he’s feeling with a more manageable physical pain.

You can’t be with anyone else. Jaemin loves you. He fucking loves you. He would do anything for you; he’s landed himself in financial hot water tipping you and booking appointments with you, he’s completely fucked academically from skipping classes and not turning in assignments in his attempt to spend as much time with you as possible, and this is how you treat him? Do you even care about him?

Jaemin cannot fucking breathe. He places a panicked hand over his heaving chest and struggles to regulate his inhales and exhales as he tries to calm himself down. His chest feels tight, constricted as he pants and he can feel his racing heartbeat pounding in his ears as his world caves in around him.

No, Jaemin thinks, that’s not possible. You wouldn’t do that to him. Not with what you two have together.

Maybe it’s just a simple misunderstanding. Maybe you’re taking a break from in-person sessions for a bit.

Repeating the words in his head like a mantra, Jaemin can finally breathe again.

He misses you, though. Thankfully you’re going live tonight, and he can see you that way.

Sure enough, you go live at midnight like clockwork, a vision in a pretty pale blue dress, and Jaemin feels his heart swelling at the sight of you. A glance at your wrists has his heart about to burst with joy; you’re wearing the bracelet he bought you.

“Hi, everybody,” you greet sweetly, waving at the camera. “How is everyone feeling tonight?”

Responses start coming in the chat and Jaemin just sits back, waiting for a lull so he can send his message and not have it swept up in the flurry of rapidly incoming messages and ultimately ignored.

As he expected, the replies taper off in a moment, and he sends his message.

NaJaem13: lonely. bored.

He watches your eyes scan the replies as you respond to individual users, his heart rate picking up in excitement when you read the response right above his.

“Sorry to hear you’re bored, NaJaem13,” you hum softly, and hearing your voice say his name—well, part of it—and watching your lips shape the syllables has his heart soaring. “Hopefully I can change that!”

He tips you 100 tokens, and the smile on your lips as you thank him is more than worth it.

NiceGuy19: r u seeing anyone? boyfriend, girlfriend, etc

You read the question out hesitantly, and Jaemin’s chest swells with pride as he’s confident you’ll allude to what you two have going on—

“No, NiceGuy19, I am very much single.” You smile, the expression not quite reaching your eyes, and Jaemin freezes.

You’re single? What the fuck?

Loverboy01: haha so i have a chance

You let out a small laugh at the comment as you read it aloud before giving a small nod. “You do,” you agree.

Jaemin’s eye twitches. Maybe you’re keeping what you two have private…out of respect for the relationship. There’s only one problem with that.

Jaemin doesn’t want you to keep it private. As a matter of fact, Jaemin’s not so sure he wants to share you with anyone anymore.

His fingers trace along the trackpad, a few clicks, and he’s booking you for a private show. There’s a moment in which nothing happens, Jaemin waiting with bated breath for you to accept.

Your eyes drift away from the camera, looking distracted for a split second, and Jaemin smiles.

You saw his request.

You clear your throat and click something before fixing your hair slightly and continuing to read comments. A window pops up on Jaemin’s screen and he reads it eagerly.

PL4YG1RL is not available for a private show at this time.

Jaemin’s smile drops.

You saw his request…and declined it. There goes that tightening in his chest, that feeling of his throat closing up, and he can’t contain his frustration.

He has to talk to you; he has to see you in person and get an explanation for all of this. He’ll wait until your live is over, then he’ll go see you and figure out what’s going on because, honestly, Jaemin feels like his heart’s about to split into two.

You’re startled awake by three insistent knocks on your front door, not expecting any visitors at this hour.

What even is “this hour,” anyway? What time is it?

You look over at your clock on your dresser and your eyes widen at the displayed time of 4:17 that blinks back at you.

Who the hell could be knocking on the door at this hour?

You get out of bed, donning the robe on the back of your bedroom door and wrapping the fabric around your body, and make your way to your front door as three more knocks sound out.

You peek through the peephole and your blood runs cold at the sight of Jaemin standing there, an unmistakable frown on his face.

You open the door and stare at him in disbelief, saying nothing. His eyes widen when he sees you and he sighs in relief, a smile beginning to curl his lips.

“You answered,” he exhales.

“Jaemin?” You ask carefully, and his smile slowly drops in favor of a distressed expression as he starts to speak.

“I saw your live tonight and—”

“Jaemin?”

“You said you weren’t seeing anyone—”

“Jaemin.”

“You’ve been avoiding me too, I know you saw my private show request—”

You just blink at him, in disbelief.

“What about all the time we’ve spent together?” He looks like he wants to say more, but holds his tongue at the last moment. Looking into his eyes chills you to your core; past the hurt swimming in his dark irises, there’s something desperate and unnerving about his gaze. You don’t miss the way his eyes rove over your figure with an unmistakable hunger, his gaze no longer exciting you like it did before. Now, you feel vulnerable, wanting to shift your weight to your other foot but not wanting to show your discomfort.

“Are you done now?” You ask slowly.

He nods.

“Jaemin,” you say, making sure to keep your voice level, “how do you know where I live?”

He balks at your question, only worsening your nerves as you swallow what feels like a thick lump in your throat.

“What about us?” he croaks out, and you can’t hide your incredulity quickly enough.

“Jaemin,” you sigh, “there isn’t anything going on between us.” Jaemin flinches like you’ve slapped him, eyes wide and wounded. “I do this for a living.”

“What about that time I asked if I could see you again and you said that it was ‘up to me,’ with that teasing little smile?” he presses, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing deeply.

“I meant that literally.” you explain, in awe at how far away from reality his mind has carried him. “If you wanted to see me again, you would have to book me.”

“But—I—I love you,” he confesses, stepping closer to you. He doesn’t miss the way you step back slightly, shrinking further into the safety of your apartment.

“Jaemin, I’m so sorry, but…” you say sincerely, feeling bad for him despite your apprehension about the whole situation. “I don’t feel that way about you.”

The way his face crumples into devastation has you wincing internally, your sympathetic nature pushing forward as you struggle with whether or not to comfort him. He hangs his head for a second and you look away to give him some privacy.

You remember, taking in his broad frame and how it practically fills up your doorway, that he never did mention how he found out where you live, and you slowly tense up again, also recalling how he’d blatantly dodged the question.

Just as fear trickles down your spine as you realize Jaemin knows far more about you than you’re comfortable with, he sucks in a ragged breath and jolts you out of your thoughts. You look back at his face and he slowly lifts his head, revealing an expression so deeply hollow that you wish you’d never looked in the first place, let alone answered the door.

You’re regretting every interaction you’ve had with Jaemin, frankly, because clearly he’s gotten the wrong idea, and now this emotionless, dead-eyed man in your doorway is honestly scaring the fuck out of you.

He sniffs once and when he speaks, his voice is every bit as flat and hollow as his face, completely impassive. “So you don’t feel anything towards me.”

You hesitate, nibbling your bottom lip nervously as you try to smooth the situation over. He raises an eyebrow expectantly, and you can feel your heartbeat pick up in pace as he stares you down with growing impatience.

“No,” you finally eke out, and he sighs, anger briefly flashing on his face before the hollow look returns, only to be replaced with a dazzling smile that doesn’t reach your eyes as he nods in understanding. “I’m sorry.”

He holds a hand up to silence you, nodding in understanding. “It’s alright.”

“Are…we done here?” You ask tentatively, not trusting your voice to conceal the tremble past a whisper.

“Yeah.” He smiles, waving you off dismissively. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” You wave cautiously, and he starts walking away from your apartment. You watch as he calls the elevator and gets in, waiting for the doors to slide shut before you practically collapse in relief, quickly closing your front door, locking both locks, and leaning against the door as you try to control your racing heart.

You’ve never seen Jaemin’s smile so void of any sincerity—it looked more like he was baring his teeth at you than actually smiling. Reality sets in, crushing your shoulders as you come to terms with two unnerving truths.

The first truth being that Jaemin knows where you live.

The second being that you didn’t tell him.

You’re heading out to the grocery store from Ryujin’s apartment, having decided to stay with her for a while until you feel safe returning home to your place.

Looking into your purse for your shopping list, you hear footsteps behind you, your senses lighting up in panic, and you whip your head around to look behind you only to see a woman and her child walking past you. She shoots you a friendly smile, and you return it, relief coursing through you.

“You’re being paranoid,” you mumble to yourself, grabbing the shopping list and looking it over briefly. As you walk to the store, you can’t help but notice the sense of danger your body’s picking up on.

Something feels off, and you don’t know what it is.

Now jumpy with nerves, you pick up your pace, glancing over your shoulder periodically as you practically speed walk to the store.

The first glance, you see nothing but the road behind you.

A car pulls up behind you and you whirl around, but the car pulls up to the curb and parks. A breath of relief escapes you, and you keep walking.

The third glance behind you rewards you with nothing, and at this point you’re pretty sure you’re jumpy for no reason, half-chuckling to yourself.

Almost out of habit now, you look over your shoulder for a fourth time, still finding no one, and you turn forward only to collide with someone’s chest, apologies immediately spilling out from your lips.

“So sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you stammer as you steady yourself, and the chuckle you hear makes you freeze, your heart gripped with terror.

You know that chuckle.

You look up in a panic, a loud gasp escaping you at the sight of Jaemin’s wide smile. He doesn’t stand still for long, swiftly moving behind you and clamping a rag over your mouth and nose as you wriggle in panic, letting out muffled shrieks and screams.

Your mind races—how could he get away with this in the middle of the day? Where is everyone?—and whatever’s on the rag fills your lungs with every panicked inhale you suck in.

Hold your breath. Fight back.

You reach to claw at Jaemin’s arms, but his jacket sleeves block your every move. As he holds the rag to your face, he works to lock your arms behind your back, his actions hindered by your defensive attacks as you reach behind you, praying your nails can make contact with his face, neck, something—

One of your blind swipes collides with the side of his face, a low grunt leaving him, and you move to hit him again, this time aiming with your nails—

You can’t hold your breath any longer, adrenaline coursing through you and making your breathing pick up.

The rag is soaking wet, the smell of the liquid slightly sweet as it drips down your neck and onto your shirt. Jaemin dodges your attacks directed at his face and manages to catch one of your wrists, aided by the rag over your mouth which makes every one of your limbs feel like it’s filled with wet sand.

Your free hand drops uselessly to your side, and Jaemin grabs it, a faint sound of metal clinking before cool metal rings—handcuffs?—close around your wrists.

The fabric of the rag is coarse against your face, and it’s one of the last things you can focus on as you feel your composure slipping away, your muscles going slack, eyes drooping shut—

“You should be more careful,” Jaemin murmurs, starting to drag your limp body with him. As your mind finally slips away, your body losing its fight, the last thing you hear is a chuckle from Jaemin, the sound far more sinister than earlier, and his final words.

“You could get hurt.”

When you open your eyes, you see a white ceiling.

A look to the left of you, and you see a window, moonlight painting the floor in streaks.

To your right, you see a mahogany dresser, a matching nightstand, and a door, cracked open to reveal an en suite bathroom.

Your mind is swimming as you try to piece together everything going on—you were walking to the store—you ran into someone—Jaemin, you ran into Jaemin. You remember something cold, wet, and sweet on your face—and then, nothing.

Your arms and shoulders ache, and you wiggle your fingers experimentally, numb digits digging into your lower back—are those handcuffs?

Panic sets in as you realize that you’ve been abducted—in the middle of the day, no less—and you have no idea what’s going on.

What does Jaemin want with you?

Where are you? What time is it?

Has Ryujin noticed that you’re gone? Is she looking for you, perhaps?

Hell, can she even find you?

How the hell are you going to get out of—

“You’re awake,” Jaemin’s voice from out of nowhere makes you yelp, your eyes darting around to find him until you look straight ahead to see him standing in the doorway.

“You fought back more than I expected,” he hums thoughtfully, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, people don’t tend to like being chloroformed and dragged away.” You can’t help but be bitter and, really, who could blame you?

“You made it difficult,” he defends himself, frowning. You stare at him incredulously, saying nothing. “Hiding at your friend’s house—do you know how confused I was when you weren’t coming into or out of your building?”

“You waited outside of my building? How did you find out where I live?”

“I may have followed you home a couple of times,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You—a couple of times—oh, my God. Did you send this bracelet?” you splutter, shaking your wrist holding the piece of jewelry.

“I did,” he announces proudly. “And you’re wearing it; it looks so beautiful on you.”

“Jaemin,” you say slowly, “what was the purpose of kidnapping me? What do you want?”

Jaemin frowns. “I just want us to be together.”

“Jaemin, how many times do I have to tell you that all of our interactions were because of my job?” you complain, yanking uselessly at the handcuffs binding your wrists. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way.”

“You will.” His reply is simple but unnerving in its simplicity. He leans over you and unlocks the handcuffs restraining you, smiling when you tentatively rub your wrists. “Better?”

“W-Why did you do that?” you ask, half-hoping he’s had a moment of guilty conscience, but his response chills you to the bone.

“I want you to struggle.”

The worst part is how bright his eyes are when he says it. He’s eyeing you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world, his gaze dropping to scan your body for an uncomfortably long moment, before he looks back up at you, his gaze now hungry and desiring.

“Jaemin—Jaemin, please, you don’t have to—” You stammer, scooting back against the headboard as he moves closer to you with his head cocked curiously.

“I know, angel,” he replies, leaning closer with a widening grin when you have nowhere to go. He wraps his fingers around your ankle and yanks you—hard—so you’re pulled closer to him. “I want to.”

“Jaemin—” Your voice cracks as tears sting your eyes. “I don’t want—”

“You will,” he shushes you, having the audacity to sound comforting. “It’s gonna feel so good,” he purrs, unbuttoning your jeans and pulling the zipper down. He peels your jeans down and off your legs painstakingly slowly, the sound of the garment hitting the floor making you flinch. “So jumpy,” he snickers, and you have half a mind to send your knee crashing into his jaw.

You refrain because, ultimately, it won’t do anything besides make him angry. Even if you managed to run away, you have no idea where you are and he’d probably catch you before you had a chance to get your bearings.

“Screw you,” you spit out instead, and Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows with a suggestive grin.

“You will.” He stares you down with darkened eyes, evoking a shudder from deep within your body. The corners of his lips quirk upwards in a smug grin, and he slides his hands up your bare legs, slowly parting your thighs with ease even though you fight to keep them closed. “Let’s play a game,” Jaemin hums excitedly. “We’re going to play together for a bit and then we’re going to take these,” he muses, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin and relishing the way you jolt, “off. If your body likes what I’m doing to it, we’re going to keep playing.”

“Oh, God,” you whimper, closing your eyes tightly. Jaemin’s hand cups your chin hard and he shakes your head from side to side roughly, forcing you to look at him with an affronted glare.

“Look at me.” Jaemin demands, his eyes hard as he arches a brow in warning. You balk under his stern gaze. “Don’t look away from me. Understand?”

You nod tentatively. Jaemin smiles, the disapproval from earlier gone without a trace.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises you warmly, and your stomach curls in disgust.

He’s sick. He’s lost his fucking mind.

You watch Jaemin cautiously as he moves to sit beside you on the bed, propping his back up against the headboard. He pulls you until you’re straddling his lap, your face burning with shame as you struggle to keep your eyes on him like he ordered.

His hands glide and down up your sides and he squeezes your hips with a low groan, guiding your movements so you’re rocking back and forth on his lap, your clit occasionally rubbing against his clothed erection through the thin fabric of your underwear and the thicker fabric of his sweats.

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?” Jaemin coos sweetly against your lips, pushing forward to kiss you. It takes everything in you not to bite his lip or his tongue when he pushes it into your mouth. “Kiss me like you mean it.” His voice is still light, but the warning in his tone is evident, and you whimper in defeat when he swirls his tongue around yours, pulling it back only to suck on your tongue.

He’s drawing all your attention to your mouth and your core as he stimulates both, leaving you so disoriented that you don’t even notice one hand sneaking up your shirt until his cold fingers graze your stomach, making you jolt away from his touch.

“So cute,” he mumbles fondly into the kiss, and you could almost swear you feel bile rising in your throat.

You’re not sure if you’re angrier with him or with yourself as your body reacts to the sensations of Jaemin kissing down to your neck and sucking at the sensitive skin there. It’s hardly your fault, you think—Jaemin’s advantage is that he already knows how to please you, and you’re defenseless against his touch.

His hand under your shirt slips to your back and unclasps your bra, returning to the front and worming its way under the lacy fabric to pinch your nipple, tweaking it between his fingers. You jerk away from him, and his free hand clutches the back of your neck, his iron-clad grip pinning you in place. He pulls back from your neck to shoot you a warning glare that chills your blood before slowly returning his lips to your skin, sucking and licking as he traces circles around your stiffening peak.

His lips trail kisses, hot and wet, down your neck to your collarbones and both hands tug your shirt over your head, discarding it to the side and returning to your body to cup your breasts. You flinch at his touch, Jaemin chuckling with sadistic amusement before groping your breasts freely, tugging and squeezing your nipples until you let out defeated moans of pleasure.

His lips kiss lower and lower still until he’s leaning you back so he can angle himself forward to envelop your nipple in his mouth. The sucking sensation is regrettably arousing and it takes all of your focus and willpower not to make any noises. Your hands push at his toned chest, firm muscles unyielding under your touch, and Jaemin just laughs, the vibrations sending another pang of pleasure down between your legs.

Your pushing grows more and more determined until you actually manage to push hard enough to detach his mouth from your chest. Jaemin, it seems, grows tired of your retaliation and forces your hands behind you, gripping your wrists in one large hand and pushing them into the small of your back so you’re forced into a deeper arch. He nuzzles in the space between your breasts and leaves sloppy kisses along the skin there before moving to swirl his tongue around your nipple, flicking it with the tip and grinning when you inhale abruptly, your breath hitching when he nips at the bud with his teeth.

He alternates between your breasts, kissing, sucking, and licking to his heart’s content as you whimper in protest, incapable of wriggling away from his mouth.

After a moment of Jaemin’s relentless mouth on your nipples, he looks up at you, releasing your nipple with a wet pop, and reconnects your lips, squeezing your wrists together hard when you refuse to part your lips for his tongue.

He smacks your ass once, the flesh stinging from the impact, and you yelp in pain, Jaemin’s tongue slipping into your unprotected mouth and playing with yours languidly, leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

“You know,” he mumbles, still kissing you, “what I want?” When you don’t answer, he sighs, almost in disappointment, and smacks your ass again, ignoring your pained cry. “Answer me.”

“What,” you mutter bitterly through gritted teeth, “do you want, Jaemin?”

“I want…to feel you ride my lap,” he answers with a wicked grin, and you groan in complaint as he grabs at your hip with his free hand and guides you into a repetitive rocking motion against his clothed cock, which you can feel hardening with every drag of your hips.

His lips attach themselves to your neck, his hand leaving your hip and massaging your breasts, flicking at your nipples lightly. Your movements halt almost instantly, and he raises an eyebrow up at you expectantly, looking pointedly at where your bodies meet.

When you stubbornly refuse to move, his gaze hardens and he grips your jaw, squeezing hard enough to evoke a whimper from you.

“Keep. Moving.”

You two stare each other down for a moment and Jaemin raises both eyebrows as if to say, “is that so?” You falter at the thought of whatever punishment he has in mind and slowly resume your grinding motions, averting your gaze. It feels like your soul withers when you hear his satisfied hum and his lips return to your skin, kissing and sucking at where your neck and shoulder meet.

His head lolls back for a moment, eyes shutting as he lets out a low groan of bliss, and your movements start to slow again as you feel the insuppressible tugging sensation of pleasure in the pit of your belly.

He opens his eyes to stare at you through a heavy-lidded gaze, silently ordering you to keep moving, and you start to panic, knowing all too well that when he goes to check if you’re wet, he’s going to see that you irrefutably are.

“Jaemin, can we please stop—”

“No.”

“But—but I’m gonna c—”

“Of course you are.” Jaemin speaks to you slowly, as if you’re stupid. “What do you think the point of this was?”

Your heart falls at your realization that he probably intended to make you climax this whole time, rigging the “game” he’d set up. You can’t help but feel stupid for not knowing that this was his plan the whole time; he kidnapped you and you really expected him to keep his word?

His lips drag you out of your spiral of hopelessness when they drag against the spot just behind your ear, and you keen desperately, wishing for anything at all to save you from this.

Of course, no such miracle comes, and your body curls in on itself as you climax, your hips bucking against his lap. You bite your lip so hard to keep from moaning that you’re surprised you don’t bleed, but Jaemin’s gleefully satisfied expression is every bit as disappointing as any noise you could have made.

He waits until your body has calmed down from your climax, watching with fascination as you both succumb to the pleasure and try with all your might to ignore it, to speak.

“You know, I think we’ve been playing for long enough,” Jaemin hums, snaking a hand between your bodies and inching it painfully slowly down your stomach.

He’s prolonging the inevitable just to torture you, and you sigh in resignation, the sound catching in your throat as you hold back defeated tears.

After what feels like ages, his hand finally reaches its destination, long fingers stroking over the damp spot of your underwear as he gasps ostentatiously. “What’s this?” His eyes flicker between his hand between your legs and your face with a devilish grin, and you let out a broken whimper.

“Nothing,” you lie, and he raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“Oh, yeah?” He slips his fingers into your underwear and you reluctantly hiss at the sensation, angling your hips away from him. “Doesn’t feel like nothing,” he teases, grinning as he strokes along your slick folds.

You move to argue, but he presses his lips to yours, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth even as you whine in protest. Jaemin grins against your lips as he withdraws his fingers from your underwear and displays them to you proudly, the digits glistening with your arousal.

“Looks like we get to keep playing, angel,” he murmurs, and your heart falls. “C’mere,” he urges you, dragging your reluctant body off his lap and lying you down on the bed on your back.

“Jaemin, please? Please don’t—oh, God—” you stammer as he parts your legs, reflexively clamping them shut again, and Jaemin raises an eyebrow in warning.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” His voice is low and threatening, and a chill runs down your spine as his grip on your knee tightens noticeably and his eyes lose the playful glint. When you relax your muscles, Jaemin smiles brightly and spreads your legs apart. “Good girl. Now relax,” he purrs, running his hands up your inner thighs and chuckling at the tremor of revulsion that travels through your body, “Nana just wants a taste.”

He pulls your underwear down and off your legs painfully slowly, as if he’s rubbing the moment in your face, and you can’t help but let out a choked sob of defeat, wanting so badly to look away but fearing his reaction if you do.

“Sound so pretty when you cry,” Jaemin coos, spreading your legs wider once the thin garment covering your core is tossed carelessly onto the floor. He tucks himself between your legs, and you inch away from him as subtly as possible, crying out when he wraps one muscular arm over your hips and yanks you towards his mouth with ease. “Don’t run from me.”

You’ve been holding back tears for so long, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but when he leans down and his tongue makes contact with your core, the dam breaks—tears, hot and fat and wet, trail down your cheeks, and you can’t help but sniffle pathetically.

“That’s it, just let it happen, angel,” Jaemin hums, licking up your folds, his tongue collecting your arousal, and he looks you directly in the eyes when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud and flicking it back and forth with the tip of his tongue. “Taste so fucking good…and it’s all for me.”

His tongue flicks and swirls around your clit languidly and your core drips arousal as he teases his fingers at your entrance, pushing two in slowly to the first knuckle, and you cover your face in an attempt to muffle the reluctant moan of pleasure that slips out from his attentive actions.

“Come on, Playgirl,” Jaemin taunts, “I wanna hear you moan like you did all those other times we’ve been together.” He pushes his fingers into you and you gasp, one hand leaving your face to clutch at the bedsheets, and you shake your head vigorously.

“Jaemin, that was my job,” you desperately explain, but your futile attempt to save yourself falls on unsympathetic ears, and he looks up from between your legs, his lips glistening with a mix of his saliva and your wetness.

“Well, now your job is to convince me to let you live.” He raises both eyebrows as he regards you, but an ice cold panic takes over your whole body at his words.

Would he seriously try to kill you?

You don’t even notice how your breathing has picked up until your chest is heaving with panic and Jaemin reaches up, pressing between your breasts to flatten you to the bed.

“Relax,” he sighs, “I won’t hurt you if you’re good for me.” He watches you intently as resignation settles in your chest, cold and heavy, before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl,” he praises. He returns his attention to your core, curling his fingers inside of you and pumping them in and out of you as he wraps his lips around your clit and hums contently, sending vibrations through the sensitive bud and making your back arch.

A moan forces its way out of your lips, your face burning with shame as you feel your body succumbing to the pleasure.

“It feels good, yeah?” Jaemin asks, continuing when you don’t respond, “I know it feels good,” he coos teasingly, “because your pussy keeps clenching around my fingers.”

You refrain from swearing at him, instead shuddering with unwanted pleasure when he angles his fingers just right and his fingertips press into your g-spot, and Jaemin’s eyes light up with glee.

“Gotcha,” he mumbles, a triumphant grin on his face as he thrusts his fingers into you, repeatedly stimulating your most sensitive spot along your inner walls, and moans spill from your lips uncontrollably, the pleasure too much to bear.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, angel?” Jaemin asks with a smug grin, and you shake your head vigorously even as your eyes roll back into your head and your back arches off of the bed with another skillful thrust of his fingers. “Yes, you are,” he says, ignoring your denial and reattaching his mouth to your core, rapidly flicking your clit with his tongue.

To your dismay, you are about to cum, your impending orgasm building up in your stomach even as you desperately try to will it away. Broken pants escape you as the pleasure grows, and when you finally climax, you whimper loudly, your eyes shutting tightly as fat tears force their way out and down your temples to melt into the pillow under your head.

“That’s a good girl.” Jaemin presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs, his lips traveling higher up your body until they’re pressing against yours forcefully, the taste of your arousal on his tongue as it slips between your lips. His kiss is all-consuming, Jaemin emitting grunts and pants of desire while his hand reaches between you two. After a moment passes of his hand not touching you, you move to break the kiss in confusion, only to feel the head of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, collecting your arousal.

“Jaemin—no—fuck, Jaemin, please—” you plead, putting all your strength into pushing him away from you. His eyes light up with excitement at the new challenge you’ve presented and he swats your hands away with ease as you push and shove at his chest, a growing smile on his face as you push yourself out from under him, scooting up towards the headboard.

“That’s it, angel,” he coaxes you, nodding encouragingly as you push his shoulders to get him away from you. “Push a little harder, yeah, just like that.” He’s coaching you through fighting him off, you realize, and what little hope you may have had all but drains from you as you let out a choked sob and close your legs as tightly as you can.

“Jaemin, at least put a condom on—” you manage to get out through panicked breaths, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“Why would I do that?” Jaemin snickers, placing one hand on your leg and forcing his hand between your knees, yanking your legs apart with a grunt and shoving himself between your thighs once more. “I want us to feel every inch of each other, angel.”

Before you can protest again, he tucks your knees to your chest, draping your legs over his shoulders, and drags you back down to him. He pins your arms above your head and coos down at you in mock sympathy as he pushes into you slowly.

“Oh, my God,” you gasp, your body trembling under the weight of your yet-to-be-shed tears. Jaemin bottoms out inside of you with a low, content moan and turns his head to kiss your calf before leaning down to bring his lips to your ear.

“Love filling you up with my cock,” he purrs in your ear and you can only hiccup from the force of trying not to cry. “Does that feel good, hm? Having me fill your tight little pussy up?” When you shake your head vigorously, Jaemin tuts disapprovingly. “Lying isn’t going to help you.”

The worst part of it all, you think, is that it does feel good. He’s been with you enough at this point to know exactly what you like as he pulls out and thrusts back into you, slowly, making sure you feel every single inch and ridge of his length.

He fucks into you slowly but with powerful snaps of his hips, moans falling from your lips whether you like it or not, and he presses your legs against your chest even harder, uncaring about the ache it sends shooting up your legs.

You can’t even dwell on the discomfort because he keeps driving his hips into yours, fucking you into a stupor that you couldn’t snap out of if you tried.

“I know you love when I fuck you,” he coos, and when you cry out in protest, he just laughs. “Your body won’t lie to me.” He pouts. “I can feel you clenching around me and you’re so fucking wet, I could almost slip out. I bet you’re about to cum already, aren’t you?”

He’s right, unfortunately, and you can only nod and whimper, not sure if you’re asking him to release you or let you finish.

He reaches between you two and massages your clit in quick circles, eyes flashing with triumph when your back arches and you climax with a breathless whine and repeated moans of “No, no, no.”

“Gonna cum, angel,” he pants, his brow furrowing as he speeds up his thrusts. “Gonna fill you up with my cum,” he grunts, and your eyes widen as the fight returns to your system. You writhe under him in an attempt to free yourself, but Jaemin just laughs uncaringly and sits up slightly to grip your squirming hips and push you further into the mattress.

He’s stronger than you could ever manage to overcome, and his actions render you immobile, your legs still flailing under him as your hands push at his chest.

“Jaemin, don’t cum inside of me,” you plead, bucking your hips uselessly, but he just moans, fucking into you harder.

“Gonna make you mine,” he purrs, his grip on your hips tightening uncomfortably as he ignores your every protest. “All fucking mine.” His thrusts become slower and almost impossibly deeper before he bottoms out in you with a low groan and releases into you, a pleased shudder leaving him as his length throbs within your walls.

All you can do is cry bitterly at how betrayed you feel by your body and how shame burns in you like an inferno, and you cover your face with your hands in resignation, not moving them even when Jaemin attempts to pull them away.

He sucks his teeth in annoyance and his grip tightens around your wrists as he wrenches your hands from over your face, his lips on yours immediately as he tastes the salt of your tears, a delighted hum rumbling in his throat.

“You’re all mine now, angel,” he breathes into the kiss. “No one’s ever going to separate us.”

“I want to go home,” you whimper, and he shushes you with the demeanor of a comforting lover, despite the truth being far from the situation.

“You are home,” Jaemin coos.

Being abducted is, as you probably could have guessed, a nightmare.

Jaemin has the audacity to be sweet and kind to you by talking to you sweetly, serving you (admittedly) good food, and telling you sweet nothings everyday—while he has you handcuffed to the bed. He lets you wear his clothes, although you suspect that’s more for him than it is for you. Sometimes, if he’s feeling generous, he’ll attach one of your handcuffs to a chain so you can roam the room as freely as one can in an eight foot radius.

He hasn’t touched you since the day he abducted you; he says he’ll wait for you to get adjusted this time. He also leaves you alone a startling amount, but you figure that would track for a normal college student; however, nothing about this is normal, so there’s that.

Your chance comes when he leaves you to go to work one day—you think it’s Tuesday, but the days are honestly starting to blur together so you’re not sure—and leaves a drawer open in the nightstand in his haste to get there on time.

Your cursory peek into it reveals a few unimportant items but one stands out to you.

A paperclip.

You don’t know very much about lock picking apart from reading one WikiHow link on it a while ago, and there isn’t a lot of room for trial and error, so you really only have one good shot at it.

Today Jaemin felt kind enough to use the chain as opposed to handcuffing you to the bedpost, and you thank the universe that you have just enough room to reach the drawer, jostling its contents so the paperclip can slide closer to you.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you mutter anxiously.

The paperclip slides towards your hand and you snatch it immediately, sitting up and bending it into the shape you vaguely remember seeing in the WikiHow article. Unfortunately, your mind blanks after that one step, so you just feed the end of the makeshift lock picker into the keyhole for the handcuffs, carefully twisting it this way and that.

It takes a grueling amount of time in which you fear the paperclip might break, but the small metal utensil thankfully stays intact the whole time, and you could cry with relief when there’s a click and the pressure on your wrist loosens considerably.

“Oh, my God,” you half-gasp, half-laugh. You spring to your feet, wobbling slightly as you get acclimated to standing up and moving again. You don’t have much time, you’re sure, so you sneak out of the door and steal down the hallway and stairs, rushing out of the front door and not caring to lock it behind you.

You’re not wearing shoes, clad only in socks, and the concrete of the pavement feels cold and rough under your feet, making it harder to run away as you would have preferred.

You’re walking down the street, praying to see a landmark that helps you get your bearings, when you hear the blip of a police car.

You’re saved.

You’re running before you even realize it, the impact of your poorly covered soles on the concrete sending sparks of pain up your legs, waving your arms wildly at the car as it approaches, and it slows to a stop, a relieved sob escaping you as you run up to the cop’s window.

“Officer, please help me—I’ve been kidnapped—I don’t know where I am—I don’t know where to go—” you stammer breathlessly, and the officer raises a hand to silence you, looking at you with curious eyes.

“You’ve been kidnapped?” he murmurs, brows knitting together in a confused sort of surprise.

You nod vigorously. “His name is Jaemin,” you explain in a rush of words, “Na Jaemin.”

“Okay, let’s head to the precinct and I can get your report there,” the officer explains. He’s got a very handsome face, you can’t help but think. He smiles for the first time, and you feel at ease instantly, his smile kind and warm with two dimples to go with it.

“Okay,” you agree immediately.

“You have to ride in the back of the cop car,” he explains, stepping out of the vehicle and opening the back door for you. He’s fairly tall, and his badge glints in the sunlight, making it hard for you to read his name. “It’s policy.”

You nod in understanding and get into the backseat, strapping yourself in and scanning the car curiously. There’s a clear divider between the front and backseat and you watch the cop’s side profile as he starts the car and drives off.

You’ve been riding for a while before you realize.

“Um, officer?”

“Mm?”

“Is this the way to the precinct?” you ask carefully, studying the side of his face for any sign of a tell.

“We’re going exactly where you need to go,” he answers, and you can’t help but notice with an unsettling jolt that he didn’t answer your question. As he speaks, he passes a house you definitely remember passing when you escaped, and all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You think frantically about what could be going on, and it hits you all at once.

Jaemin mentioned having a brother. Who’s a cop. You found this officer in the area of Jaemin’s place.

“Officer, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He doesn’t answer, only heightening your suspicions. The coincidences are too much to let slide, so you quietly reach for the door handle when he pulls up to a red light. There’s a muted click as the door handle fails to open the door, and the officer speaks.

“You can’t open the back doors from the inside.”

Which, yeah, makes sense, but the way he sounds when he says it takes you by surprise. He sounds smug almost, almost teasing.

You sit back quietly, your voice dejected when you speak next.

“We’re not going to the precinct, are we?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” he replies easily, and you rest your cheek against the cold window in defeat, trying as hard as you can not to cry; you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

When the car finally rolls to a stop, you look out the window in resignation, your gaze dull and broken when you lock eyes with Jaemin, who’s standing on the sidewalk in front of his house.

“You should lock this one up more carefully next time,” the officer scolds Jaemin lightly, and Jaemin nods with a smile at him before looking at you with a hurt frown.

“I was being so nice to you,” he complains, and you scoff under your breath, sliding your gaze away from him. He opens your door and, when you don’t move, sighs before he reaches in to unstrap your seatbelt and pull you out of the car. “Oh, by the way, this is my brother Jaehyun.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jaehyun replies dryly, raising his eyebrow at you.

You don’t reply.

“Same mother, different fathers,” Jaemin goes on to explain. “Hence the different last names.”

“Jaemin, I really don’t care,” you say honestly, and he frowns at you.

“Don’t hurt my feelings.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him, kissing the top of your head. “Thanks, Jaehyun. See you!”

Jaehyun raises two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute before he’s driving off.

“I think I’m going to have to revoke your roaming privileges.” Jaemin hums with an air of disappointment as he leads you back into the house.

You wish you could revoke his life at this point.

It’s another day being held in Jaemin’s room and you’re lazily watching the television that Jaemin put on for you before going to work, eyes practically glazing over with boredom before you change the channel. It’s harder to reach the remote with your hands zip tied in front of you, but you manage to make it work.

You flip through channels absentmindedly, but stop immediately once you hear your name coming from the screen.

You flip back a couple of channels until you land on the local news, which is in the process of going through your Missing Person report.

“Holy shit,” you say breathlessly, watching as they display a picture of you on screen. “They’re looking for me.”

Your best friends Ryujin and Yuna come on screen next, Yuna in tears and Ryujin looking pissed as she talks to the newscaster.

“She doesn’t just up and disappear, something happened to her, I know it.” Ryujin says vehemently. She looks directly into the camera and you feel goosebumps raise on your body at how determined she looks. “We’re going to find you. Don’t worry.”

“I love them,” you mumble sadly before sitting up slightly. Knowing that someone is looking for you fills you with hope and a resolve you didn’t have before.

You’re getting out of here.

You stare down at the zip tie around your wrists and think about how to get out. You bring it to your mouth and start to nibble at the thick plastic, praying this works. Your jaw aches as you work away at the zip tie, but you can feel it starting to separate, giving you more hope.

You have no idea how long you have so you stop nibbling halfway through the tie and sit up as straight as possible, twisting the tie around and yanking your wrists apart forcefully. It takes several tries and you’re just about to give up before you yank one last time with all of the frustration and anger you have in your body and the tie snaps apart.

“Holy shit,” you sob in relief, quietly moving to get off of the bed before realizing— “fuck, my ankles.”

You can’t reach them to bite through the zip tie so you fiddle with the locking mechanism, pushing the small plastic latch this way and that with your fingernail until it gives way and loosens enough for you to slip out.

You look around for shoes, not about to make the same mistake as last time, and finally find them under the bed, slipping them on as quietly as possible and heading out of the door and down the stairs.

You’re almost out, freedom just out of reach, when keys jingle in the lock of the front door and you freeze for a moment before running to the hallway closet and hiding in it, holding your breath for dear life amongst coats and various household items. You peek through the slots and fear seizes your heart when you see Jaehyun walk past the closet and up to the second landing.

You don’t waste any time, immediately slipping out of the closet just in time to hear Jaehyun swear loudly, footsteps thundering down the stairs, and the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking has you panicking as you rush towards the front door.

“Don’t…move.” Jaehyun’s voice sounds out from behind you, and you turn slowly to face him. He’s got the gun pointed directly at your chest and your eyes widen and your breathing picks up as you realize the very real possibility that you might get killed. “Jaemin picked a difficult one, I see.”

“Jaemin wouldn’t want me dead,” you say desperately, shifting in panic each time Jaehyun moves to the side, not even realizing that he’s been slowly and subtly maneuvering you both so he’s blocking the front door and you’re forced further into the house.

“Jaemin wouldn’t mind you incapacitated.” Jaehyun points out, instead aiming the gun at your knee.

“Please don’t,” you beg, tears welling up in your eyes, and he raises one eyebrow skeptically.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Why are you helping him, anyway? You’re a cop; surely you know they’ve been looking for me.”

“He’s my brother,” Jaehyun answers your question like you’re stupid and you hide the way it makes you bristle with anger. “He makes dumb choices, yeah, but having his back is what family’s for.”

“I have a family, too,” you sniffle, and he blinks at you impassively.

“I really don’t care.”

Jaehyun’s face is frighteningly emotionless as he points the gun at your leg. You’ve got nowhere to run, and your hope is almost entirely snuffed out. You close your eyes and wait for the unimaginable pain to come with a bullet to the leg.

You flinch violently at the loud thud that startles you, and snap your eyes open at the familiar grunt, praying you’re not imagining things. Could it really be—?

Sure enough, Jaehyun is staggering from Ryujin’s powerful blow to the back of his head with a baseball bat. His grip on the gun slips and it hits the floor, making you flinch yet again as you pray it doesn’t go off. You dive for the gun at the same time Jaehyun does, but Ryujin kicks him hard in the side, the larger male groaning loudly in pain as one hand goes to clutch his side. You take the opportunity and snatch the gun off of the floor, quickly clambering to your feet and aiming the gun at his pained form on the floor.

“If you even think about moving, I will blow your fucking brains out.” You seethe, holding the gun with both hands and, truthfully, you’re surprised you’re not shaking, chalking it up to the shock and adrenaline.

“You don’t know how to shoot a gun.” Jaehyun sneers at you and you just smile, aiming at the wall behind him and pulling the trigger. The gun jerks back in your hand as a bullet tears a small hole through the wall, and Jaehyun’s face goes gray, much to your satisfaction.

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” You smile humorlessly down at him and you watch as he swallows thickly. “We’re going to leave now. I’m going to keep this gun. And if I ever see you again—I don’t care if it’s at the goddamn supermarket—I will put a bullet through your thick ass skull,” you promise, your voice low and trembling with poorly restrained rage (and fear—definitely fear).

Jaehyun’s furious yet dead-set gaze on you is beyond unnerving, but you shake off the jitters as best you can.

You and Ryujin slowly inch towards the door, never moving your eyes away from Jaehyun, and right as Ryujin inches by him, he lunges for her ankle, making her jump away in surprise and barely get away. You and Ryujin both scream and you point the gun at his legs, not even thinking before you pull the trigger.

A loud gunshot rings out, your hands jerking back once more from the gun’s recoil, and Jaehyun practically roars in pain, grabbing his wounded thigh and squeezing hard in an attempt to slow the blood loss.

“I hope I hit a fucking artery.” You spit, taking the opportunity while both of Jaehyun’s hands are busy to lurch forward and kick him in the side as hard as you can.

“Fuck—you fucking bitch—” Jaehyun’s words come out in pained gasps as he grasps his side with one bloodied hand, gritting his teeth in agony, and you and Ryujin make a run for it. You’re in absolute shock and disbelief as you stumble out of the house you’ve been held captive in for weeks.

You could faint from joy when you catch sight of Yuna’s car waiting outside the house, the car still on and running as you two rush to the car, climbing in the backseat.

“Let’s go, go, go—” Yuna yells, not even waiting until Ryujin is done shutting the door to drive off as quickly as possible, her tires screeching.

There’s a moment of silence in the car where you and Ryujin look at each other and as you two lock eyes, she leans over to you and pulls you into a tight hug, trying her best to soothe you as you shake and tremble in her arms with the force of your crying. Your shoulder feels damp, you realize when you finally compose yourself enough to pull away, and you see that Ryujin has tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

“We thought you—that he—” Ryujin hiccups, and you hug her again tightly as she takes her turn to cry. “We never stopped looking for you.”

“Thank you,” you gush, the two words feeling embarrassingly inconsequential compared to the absolutely overwhelming relief and gratitude you feel. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you—”

“Don’t even mention it.” Yuna weaves through traffic precariously, and you’ve never been so relieved to be in the car with your haphazard driver of a friend.

“How the hell did you find me?” You can’t help but wonder.

Ryujin sags in relief and exhaustion against the backseat, her free hand not holding the baseball bat gripping your free hand not holding the gun. “We just had to figure out Jaemin’s name and address and the other day I got lucky and spotted him in the grocery store, so I followed him home.” Ryujin says, her words stumbling out together in her rush to speak. “It was like a miracle.”

“You’re telling me.” You laugh for what feels like the first time in ages, relief flooding through your body as the sight of the police precinct comes into view.

It’s over. It’s finally over.

“So what brings you to therapy?” The woman sitting in a large gray armchair watches you over the rims of her glasses. Her gaze is intent but kind, and she crosses one leg over the other.

Her navy blue blazer and skirt are a cute combination, you think. The color brings out the warm brown of her eyes, and the slightly lighter shade of blue on the wall behind her only helps you feel a bit more at ease.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you speak.

“About two months ago, I, um…I was stalked and kidnapped.” You exhale slowly. “Or abducted, I guess—you can’t kidnap an adult—but, um, yeah.”

You chance a peek at the woman across from you to see her eyebrows raised in surprise, a concerned frown on her face.

“That must have been terrifying.”

“Yeah, for sure. The guy who did it is in prison now, thankfully, but it’s definitely changed a lot of things in my everyday life, y’know?” you mumble, and she hums thoughtfully, nodding.

“Can you tell me a bit more about that?”

“Well, um. I ended up moving out of my apartment because I just didn’t feel safe there. I live in a different building now with a great security system.”

“That’s good.” She encourages you to continue speaking with a small wave of her hand.

“I also quit my job because that’s how J— …my stalker—found me. Now I work as a waitress.”

“I see,” she muses. “How is that working out?”

“It’s good,” you say with a shrug. “Meeting all those people every day is kind of nerve-wracking, but maybe it’ll get better with time.”

“I believe it will,” she assures you, and you can feel yourself relaxing a bit more. “How have you been sleeping?”

“Not very well,” you chuckle humorlessly. “I’m so…jumpy nowadays that any sounds at night wake me up instantly.”

“I can imagine.”

“And then there are the, um…the nightmares.” She seems to be waiting for you to elaborate, but a lump rises in your throat, rendering you silent for the time being.

Avoiding her gaze, you scan the room for something to ground you and stop the tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. Your eyes land on the placard on her desk, your eyes tracing over the embossed letters of her name—Dr. Jiyoon Choi—and you envision what the nameplate would feel like under your fingertips.

It’d be cool to the touch, you think; it’s metal, after all. Smooth, too. You mentally run your fingers over the ridges of the letters of her name, and—

“Nightmares are common for people who have been through traumatic events like your situation.” Dr. Choi’s voice is gentle but brings you out of your dissociative state nonetheless.

“I figured,” you mutter with a nod.

“It will take time to work through everything you’ve been through.” Dr. Choi explains, and you nibble at your bottom lip as you listen to her. “Nightmares and flashbacks are common in people with PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“Yeah,” you echo lamely.

“As is dissociating at times,” she continues, and you think back to the several times you’ve spaced out in the thirty minutes you’ve been in her office. “It’s your brain trying to protect you from the memories.”

“I need it to try a little harder,” you sigh, and her lips quirk upwards into a fond smile.

“Be easy on it, hm? And yourself; you’ve both been through so much.” There’s something so deeply affirming about her confirmation of your situation, a professional signing off on your trauma, that the dam breaks and you take in a deep, shaky inhale before bursting into tears.

The only other sound to be heard apart from your crying is the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Tick, tick, tick.

The sureness of the ticking, the reliability of the sound, is somehow calming to you, your ragged breaths slowly starting to sync up with the clock.

Tick, tick, tick.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you manage to compose yourself once more and look up at Dr. Choi—who, you now notice, has passed you a small blue tissue box.

Tick, tick, tick.

“That was embarrassing,” you mumble, slightly chuckling as you try to play it off as a joke.

“That was expected,” Dr. Choi corrects you, sitting forward in her seat and adjusting her posture. “May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Was that the first time you’ve cried since everything happened?”

Tick, tick, tick.

“Yes,” you admit.

“I think that’s a good sign,” she encourages you. “You’re starting to make progress by processing your emotions.”

“Yeah?” Your voice sounds small but hopeful.

Dr. Choi nods reassuringly. “Yes.”

There’s a small beat of silence and you look down and run the pads of your thumbs over the smooth surfaces of your fingernails.

“Is there anything else you’d like to share today?” Dr. Choi asks gently, and you shake your head. “Okay. In that case, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for our session today.”

“Thank you.” You stand up and take your bag, smiling feebly as you head for her door.

“Of course.” She smiles. Your hand is just wrapping around the doorknob when she speaks again. “Will I be seeing you next week?”

You don’t say anything for a moment, your fist squeezing the cool metal of the doorknob.

You want to get rid of the dark cloud that feels like it’s been following you around for the past two months—you want to be able to walk down the street without looking over your shoulder every three seconds—you want…you want to feel better.

“Yes,” you answer, turning back to look at her with a small smile. “You will.”

“Wonderful. My secretary can set you up for our next appointment. Take care and get home safe.” Dr. Choi bids you goodbye, and you nod again before exiting her office.

It’s a start, you think. A pretty good one, at that.

Jaemin lazily thumbs through the pile of magazines in the pathetic excuse for a library the penitentiary has to offer, biding his time until the guards switch out their shifts. The clock ticks on endlessly, driving Jaemin closer and closer to insanity with every tick, tick, tick—

The air is uncomfortably warm and smells faintly of bleach and stale breath.

Tick, tick, tick—

The guard on duty yawns and looks at his watch.

Tick, tick, tick—

Another inmate in the “library” asks for permission to use the computer. Jaemin scoffs, wondering if his fellow prisoner is going to entertain himself with a game of Sudoku, Solitaire, or Minesweeper, seeing as how they have no access to the internet.

Tick, tick, tick—

Jaemin stands up slowly, so as not to draw too much attention to himself, and walks between the bookshelves holding barely anything worthwhile. He browses through the book selection, slender fingers stroking the spine of each hardcover book, before he finally finds what he’s been looking for.

He brings the book back to his seat and angles the spine up so the cover is easily visible to anyone who may look at him. Feigning a pensive expression, Jaemin flips to the middle of the book. The back half of the pages have been meticulously hollowed out in the shape of a rectangle and there, in the makeshift pocket, lies a smartphone.

Jaemin smirks to himself, smoothly pocketing the phone, and busies himself with looking through the pages of the book that haven’t been carved into. Hardcover books are typically off-limits, barely even allowed in the penitentiary, but Jaemin’s been getting some special perks due to “good behavior.”

To avoid arousing suspicion, he closes the book and gets up to put it back on the shelf, instead picking up a random self-help softcover book and leafing through the pages idly until that glorious tick, tick, tick—

There’s a brief sound of shuffling as the guard on duty stands up and offers his seat to the new guard about to assume his post. The first guard leaves, and the new guard sits down in the seat, leaning back to get comfortable.

Jaemin waits.

Tick, tick, tick.

The guard sighs, already bored with his assignment, and Jaemin enacts his plan. Scrunching his face up in discomfort, he stands up and, clutching his stomach, makes his way over to the guard, who sits up in his seat immediately, apprehensive upon Jaemin’s approach.

“Can I help you?” The guard asks, his voice rough like sandpaper, and Jaemin groans once for effect.

“I need to use the bathroom. I think I’m gonna be sick.” He moans, and the guard’s eyebrows furrow as he appears to think about it. Jaemin can only hope this guard isn’t on a sick little power trip and won’t feel like denying him the bathroom just for the hell of it.

To really sell it, Jaemin lurches forward, doubling over as he mimics the sounds of poorly restrained retching. The guard’s face contorts into disgust, and he waves at the hallway in admission.

“I knew there was something fishy about those Sloppy Joes for lunch.” Jaemin hears the guard muttering to himself and masks his smirk with another discomfort-borne twisting of his lips.

He staggers past the guards in the hallway, walking past one tall, burly guard Jaemin has a feeling he shouldn’t piss off and a thin, almost lanky guard who could probably blow away if the wind got too strong, and makes his way into the bathroom, locking himself in a stall and dropping to his knees. As he hunches over the toilet bowl, he fishes out the sleek black rectangle from his pocket and powers the phone on, quickly opening up the internet browser and typing in what he’s looking for.

Jaemin fake retches loudly to keep up appearances, fingers of his free hand drumming impatiently on his lower thigh, and sighs in relief when the familiar page loads.

FunBunny is now live.

“Not now, FunBunny,” Jaemin mutters. “I have someone in mind.”

He types in the username he’s had swimming around in his mind for the past three months since he’s been locked up and when the page buffers, no doubt due to the shitty internet connection in the prison, Jaemin sucks his teeth.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He’s alight with a buzz, the jitters settling in as the page finally loads, only for his heart to drop to the bottom of his stomach.

User ‘PL4YG1RL’ does not exist. Please try a different search term.

Jaemin stares at the screen incredulously, anger and frustration building slowly but steadily and now he swears he really can feel bile rising in his throat.

“Impossible.” He spits through gritted teeth, now dangerously close to losing his composure. He’s waited three months—three fucking months—to see you again, and you’ve managed to slip through his fingers.

He refreshes the page in a refusal to accept the situation, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turn white, and has to restrain the urge to slam the phone down on the grimy tiles in defeat when the page finishes loading to show the same screen as before.

“Fuck, shit, fuck!” Jaemin slams his hand against the wall of the bathroom stall before growling, his tethers to sanity starting to slip away the further he spirals into his thoughts.

“Inmate, what’s going on in there?” One of the guards from the hallway calls out, the bass in his voice snapping Jaemin back to reality.

“Got sick from the Sloppy Joes,” Jaemin grunts back, running his fingers through his hair and barely restraining himself from yanking the locks out at the root.

“Those always seemed odd to me, y’know.” Another voice, a thinner, more mousy voice sounds out, presumably the less imposing of the two guards. “Always thought they smelled kinda funny.”

“Yeah.” The burly guard is dismissive at best, and whatever the mousy guard says as a follow-up comment goes unheard by Jaemin as he refocuses his attention on the disappointing sight on his phone screen.

Jaemin stands up finally, shutting the phone off and pocketing it once more. He flushes the toilet with his foot and exits the stall, washing his hands. He stares himself down in the dirty bathroom mirror, at the dark circles that have formed under his eyes since his time in prison began, the scowl Jaemin’s mouth is unwaveringly twisted into, and he grits his teeth. He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands, and heads out of the bathroom and back to the library with a building resolve in his chest.

Jaemin will find you again—no matter what it takes.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed :) tips are greatly appreciated!

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#jaemin smut #nct smut #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #tw noncon

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