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ginkgo-phyta · 4 months

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Tantalizing / Spencer Reid

PART TWO: Link

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Words: ~8k

Tags/Warnings: SMUT!!! like pure smut, AFAB fem reader, no usage of "y/n", light footplay, light nipple play, humping, unprotected penetration, slight dom/sub themes (nothing intense, maybe more like switch?), secret relationship, extensive foreplay teehee ;]

Summary: You haven't had good, quality, playful time with Spencer in quite a while- the team's schedule having been jam packed with cases. Its been making you antsy, expounded by how good your boyfriend has been dressing lately. You decide late one night that enough is enough, and you had to dig your claws into him. Even if people end up finding out about you two.

Author's Note: inspired by spencer's s7 outfits...they're so good. they make me wanna bark. this is my very first time writing smut! ahhh!! also i didn't know wtf to title this.

“Hi Spencer…” Your alluring voice purred into Spencer’s ears as he held the hotel door open for you, the seductive timbre curling up the back of his neck, brushing against his warming cheeks and flicking the ends of the hair that tickled the shell of his ear.

“C-come in, quickly”. He ushered you in, closing the door swiftly behind you. The stammer caused you to grin mischievously and you watched Spencer pause in the middle of the room- just staring at you hesitantly, taking in your appearance as he played with the hem of his sweater vest. You donned a half-sleeved retro style black dress with a white collar and small buttons going down the front- his favorite on you. The belt hugged your waist beautifully and the skirt that shaped out your hips flared out a bit at the end, falling right at the knee. With it you wore an assortment of dainty jewelry, very sheer black tights and short forest green heels. He had seen you just a handful of times throughout the day, and each time he had to find some excuse to leave your vicinity in order to hold onto even a sliver of concentration on the case.

“I’ve missed you all day, baby.” you start to step closer to him, twirling the ends of your perfectly curled ponytailed hair between your fingers. The soft thuds of your kitten heels sent tingles down Spencer’s spine. “Did ya miss me?” you questioned him with a little pout. Now mere inches away from him you traced your manicured fingers down the lapels of his blazer. Reflexively, his hands shot up to rest ever-so-lightly on the curve of your hips.

He gulped, watching you playfully bat your mascaraed eyelashes up at him, “Of course, I did.” Spencer cleared his throat, trying to gain some sort of composure, “I wished you could have come out into the field with me, but you need to get better first.” His right hand shyly moved up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering to fiddle with the small golden hoop on your lobe.

A dramatic sigh huffed out of your plump, glossy lips while fixing the knot of his tie, “I knoooow,” tone almost childish in reluctance, “I just love seeing you work.” You threw your arms over his shoulders, flashing him the beautiful smile he loved oh-so-much to see, “Which is why I’m here. Wanna see what you’re up to.” The bite of your lip, the glint in your eye, and the glimpse to his own lips made it clear to Spencer that you held a different motive. “Show me what you're working on?” you turn to make your way to the desk where dozens of papers and multiple files were scattered around. The purposefully enticing sway of your hips left Spencer captivated.

You had suffered a pretty bad concussion a couple weeks ago at the hands of an unsub weidling a copper pipe. The proceeding vertigo refused to relent its choking grip on your inner ear resulting in being “banned” from the field until a doctor’s clearance- or two, if Spencer could have his way. Usually this wouldn’t be all that big of a deal for you, but the case the BAU team was currently working on had Spencer away from you for most of the day, profiling the suspected murderer’s house in an attempt to find details that could lead to the missing victim. You were left twiddling your thumbs at the precinct. Well, not really, but it sure did feel like it at times.

“Ooo, the coded messages. Have my analyses helped you at all?” your voice pulled Spencer out of his debauched thoughts. His gaze landed on your face, all traces of seductive tactics were gone, replaced by eager and adorable curiosity. The unsub had several coded messages in journals scattered around his apartments that were proving to be incredibly difficult to crack. Spencer let out a breathy chuckle as he excitedly made his way over to sit at the desk.

“Yes, they actually did. I was able to-” and off he went down the rabbit hole of a tangent. Although normally you would have intently listened to what he had to say, this time watching him passionately ramble reignited the little flame in your bosom. You leaned against the desk, letting your eyes wander over Spencer’s expressive hands and fingers as he gestured to different pieces of paper. You interrupted his spiel by sliding into the space between his body and the desk, using the toe of your shoe on the seat to roll the creaky swivel chair back.

“The working day is over, Spencie, don’t you think it's time to focus on better things?” Spencer's head snapped down to where your foot rested on the cushion of the flimsy motel office chair, right between his legs and dangerously close to his clothed cock. He followed the line of your nylon clad leg, over the skirt of your work dress, across the prominence of your chest, up the slope of your neck, and finally to your twinkling eyes. “I don’t deserve any attention, baby?” you tilted your head ever so slightly, your hand coming up to delicately play with the single-pearl necklace resting in the Plender’s gap of your collar bones. A delicious, forlorn sigh passed your lips as your fingers glided over your shoulder, head moving with it to look down and pick at the papers laying under your tush, “You didn’t really miss me, did you? All you ever think about is the bad guys.” And there was that pout again. God, you really knew how to make Spencer a mess.

“That’s not true!” he exclaimed immediately, voice cracking slightly at the end. Your eyes snapped to his offended face. You giggled as his Adam’s apple bobbed- you loved teasing him, it boosted your confidence and only egged you further every time. His reactions would always be your drug of choice. “I’m-I’m sorry.” was all else he could spit out.

“What for, honey?” you leaned back on your hands, head tilting to the other side this time.

“For not giving you my attention. I didn’t mean to…neglect you. I really did miss you. I always do.” Spencer’s hands came up to lightly cup your calf, still very aware of its proximity to certain progressively-aching parts of his body.

“Good.” your voice was matter of fact as you straightened up a bit. Spencer watched you pull at your hair-tie and release your ponytail with a few firm shakes, his lips parted with a sharp draw of breath. The foot between his legs briefly moved as you kicked off your heels before it settled back into its original position, this time inching further under his crotch.

He let out a quiet surprised “Ah-” at the contact, his grip on your leg lowered as he squirmed in his seat.

“You like my outfit today? I picked it out specifically for you.” your words turned breathy as you leaned closer to the quiet genius, “You’ve been dressing sooo nice lately, honey, I wanted to look just as pretty as you.” You picked up one of his hands that had slid down to grasp your ankle, pushing his palm flat onto your led as you dragged it up the limb. Under your dress it went, enticing Spencer closer to you in response until his chest hit your shin. His fingers curled onto your thigh, analyzing the smoothness of your tights before you stopped. Instead, you took his fingers and pressed them into the lacey top of your sheer black thigh-high stockings. Another little move, press, and pause, allowing Spencer’s fingers to analyze. They were latched to a garter belt. The realization drew a soft groan from the back of his throat as his forehead dropped onto your knee. He loved when you would wear these. Spencer placed a few barely-there kisses where he could, using his hand to explore your thigh, taking in the difference between your warm skin and the cool nylon. You relished in the way he dug his fingernails into your supple flesh.

“So beautiful…” his whispers into your silked skin tugged a devilish grin up your cheeks. You felt his eyebrows furrow and you could tell his lips were pursed. You craved for his big hands and chapped yet moistened lips to press all over your body, but the teasing was just too fun to quit so soon. Instead, you wove your fingers through his hair, pushing back and coaxing him to look up at you. His cheeks were flushed clove-pink, eyelids drooping slightly as he gazed longingly at your mouth. Spencer’s body tried to jump closer to you, his hands respectively gripped your upper thigh and ankle in a failed attempt to hoist himself up to your hypnotizing smile. You swore you heard him let out a faint moan as his crotch grazed against your lower extremity. This sparked a match in your head.

Much to Spencer’s displeasure you moved away from him, leaning back on hands placed firmly on the desk. He tried to move forward to follow you, but your clothed foot left his crotch to land on his chest, effectively stopping his movements. Spencer let out a huff as it began dragging down his torso, pushing him back into his chair, before its path ended. Your foot hovered over the obvious bulge in his black trousers. “I love wearing these tights,” you started nonchalantly, “They make me feel so pretty and put-together; so hot,” you added a tantalizing emphasis, as if the word was naughty. Your lightly padded toes circled around where Spencer wanted them the most. Instead they avoided it a little longer, going to trace the design of his belt buckle. He screwed his eyes closed- whether to contain himself or simply feel your movements was uncertain. He let out an impatient whine. “Don’t you think so, sweetheart?” The sole of your foot finally flattened on Spencer’s covered cock.

“Yes, yes, yes” he earnestly groaned out, the hand on your ankle desperately pushing your foot further onto his bulge. That’s what you loved most about fooling around with your beloved- always so eager. You bit back the moan of your own that threatened to spill as Spencer threw his head back. You watched the pads of his fingers dig into your ankle, the other hand slid down the back of your calf to meet its twin as his hips lifted slightly off the chair to grind into your foot. His length hardening and extending could be felt against your sole, slightly ticklish. The scene before you was addictive, the sounds escaping his lips so dirty and provocative. He tugged your leg to press you harder to him, causing you to almost slip off the desk.

“Tuttutut,” you chided, “slow down, big boy. I never said you could do all that, did I?” As soon as your light scolding processed in his mind, all of his actions stopped. Spencer quickly shook his head while trying to catch his breath. “Answer me.” you tried again. His eyelids blinked open, gaze meek.

“No, no you didn’t.” He removed his hands from your leg, running them through his hair before plopping them onto the arms of the chair as he panted, “I’m sorry, baby, you just feel so good,” he paused to look at you, swallowing hard. “God, I’ve missed you.” His words were smile-inducing. You dragged your foot off of him, deliberately using extra pressure to earn a deep and husky groan. Spencer’s eyes briefly rolled back into his head before they closed again. You could see tiny glistening beads of sweat forming at the edges on his hairline. His eyebrows furrowed and his Adam’s apple shifted a couple times, miniscule twitches plucked the corners of his mouth.

“What are you thinking about now?” you were clearly amused, feet slightly kicking out like a giddy schoolgirl. Spencer didn’t miss a beat in responding.

“You. I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about h-how good you make me feel and how much I want you to touch me more,” another gulp. “How much I want to touch you.” His hands gripped the plastic chair arms, causing them to squeak. You giggled at this. To Spencer, you sounded wicked.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you baby.” Your words immediately caused him to squirm, whines leaving his throat. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet. It wasn’t a question, you knew for a fact that’s exactly what he’s thinking, even if he won’t say it like that. Not yet, at least. The team had back-to-back cases for the last month and a half, and the two of you haven’t had a chance to actually have sex in the same length of time. You snuck cuddle sessions in each other’s hotel rooms a couple times, but kept them to a minimum as to not arouse suspicion from your teammates. You couldn’t take it anymore, especially with how good he looked today- how good he has looked the last few weeks, really.

It wasn’t always that you showed your dominant side in bed, but it was all you could think about doing lately.

“Say it. Tell me you want to fuck me, Spencie.”

Another squirm. Eyes squeezed shut.

“Be a good boy, baby. Look at me.” your voice was sterner this time, though the playful edge hadn’t fully dissipated. It took a couple seconds but Spencer’s eyelashes finally fluttered open, “There we go,” you cooed. Spencer swallowed in anticipation, still worming a bit in his seat with arms glued to their spots. “Now, tell me what I want to hear.” you leaned your body forward, hoping to come off a bit more domineering.

Spencer took in a deep breath, eyes flitting around the room in an attempt to avoid your gaze. You didn’t want to ask again, residing to clearing your throat to get your message across. He understood what that meant- you were getting impatient and if you didn’t get what you wanted you would simply stop. He didn’t want that. It’s not like the statement was incorrect, it just wasn’t something that was ever in Dr. Spencer Reid’s ordinary vernacular and he wasn’t yet in the headspace for it to come out without a second thought. He didn’t want to sound stupid. But, oh, he wanted you. Thus, he swallowed his doubts and began,

“Yes,” he nodded his head vigorously, eyes closing just for a millisecond, “I…” His gaze finally locked with yours, “I want to fuck you.”

Damn, the words sounded so incredibly, completely filthy dripping from Spencer’s innocent lips and you wanted to lick up every drop. Your pussy reactively clenched around nothing, and you wanted to surge forwards and push your mouth onto his in a hot kiss- half what Spencer himself expected (and wanted) you to do- but you controlled yourself. Instead, you remained calm, sliding off your desk and toeing your kitten heels back on your feet all while maintaining eye-contact with Spencer. You prowled towards him. His saliva hitched in his throat, heart skipped a beat, breathing quickened. He remained still while you leaned down towards him. Your minty breath fanned over his face, and Spencer wished you would just kiss him already. Of course, you knew that was what he wanted and so you wouldn’t let him have it just now. He watched your face as you brought your hand to his jaw. Your thumb dragged across his bottom lip and down, moving to pull the tie out of his sweater vest. You used it to pull Spencer closer to you, his chin tilted up, reaching out to connect your lips. Just as they were about to touch…you stopped. “Come here,” was all you whispered. And in a flash, you were standing straight up, using the tie to move him up with you. Backwards you walked, returning to your original position on the small desk. As you scooted up a bit, disregarding the important papers you were most definitely damaging, you hiked up your dress to allow your legs to fall open. Spencer moved to stand in between them, but much to his dismay you were too far on the desk for him to be able to feel the warmth radiate from your core. Obviously, that was done on purpose.

Spencer knew he shouldn’t touch you yet, so he rested his hands on the desk close to your hips, only using the tips of his thumbs to brush back and forth between the lace of your stockings and the skin of your thighs. Good boy, you thought, but kept it to yourself. You slowly, yet deftly unbuttoned the cuffs and folded up the sleeves of his shirt, licking your lips at the sight of his hairy and veiny bare arms. You brought them each up to place a light kiss on the inside of his wrists, shifting up the watch on his left, before returning them to their original position. Spencer watched with bated breath and a parted mouth as you then began to seductively undo the top few buttons of your dress, pushing the fabric to the sides to allow Spencer to gaze down at the cleavage hardly contained by your lacy, deep green bra. (It didn’t escape him that they matched your heels). This enticed a moan from the disheveled man. He threw his head back, looking up at the bright ceiling lights in an attempt to grab his bearings, “You’re going to kill me.” he whispered.

You held his face in both your hands, pulling it down to look at you again, “Good.” you whispered back in delight. Fingers traveled to the back of his neck, playing with and tugging at the ends of his hair for a minute before moving to push the dark gray woolen blazer off his shoulders where they then replaced the material with massages. Spencer's eyes shut at the pressures of your ministrations, forehead dropping to rest against your own as a feeling of peace and warmth flooded his veins. He almost forgot how horny he was- almost. He whined at the lost palpations as your hands changed course to loosen his tie. You left it on, opting to unbutton the top of his button-up. Your fingernails scratched at the exposed skin at the base of his neck and top of his hair-sprinkled chest before they danced up to trace his Adam’s apple.

“I want you.” Spencer moaned.

“I know, baby.” you held his face between your hands again, firmly so he couldn’t move, “I want you, too,” Your face inched closer to his at a worm’s pace, and all Spencer could do was watch in impatient anticipation. “You’re just so fun to play with.” You nudged your nose against his, leaving a ghost of a kiss on his lips.

“More, please.” He groaned, head straining against your grasp, his eyelids falling shut.

You giggled sweetly, “Just a bit more, since you asked so nicely,” and you began to press more light kisses where you wanted to- on his top lip, the corners of his mouth, the little dip of his chin, his cupid’s bow, and finally the tip of his nose- your own lightly knocking against his with each proximal peck. Spencer sighed as you leaned away from him.

“Please,” he breathed out. Spencer leaned into your right palm, eyelids opening to reveal a contented, dazed look.

“You said you wanted me to touch you, didn’t you, baby?” your hands started to move, down the front of his chest to creep under the hem of his dark blue sweater vest.

“Mhm…” he nodded excitedly, a content sigh leaving his nose. You pulled the light-blue button-up out of his trouser, the feeling of your cool hands splaying against the warm, bare skin of his lower abdomen had Spencer reeling. You dug the tips of your fingers down a path along his hidden abs and happy trail before curling them around to his lower back where you scratched long horizontal lines. You loved touching him, just feeling his skin. But, Spencer wasn’t the only one losing a little bit of patience.

The sound of his belt buckle clinking undone caused his stomach to somersault. You roughly undid the button and zipper of his trousers before pushing them down just enough to grant you access to what you wanted. Spencer’s forehead thumped lightly against yours, finding its favorite spot again- well, second-favorite if we’re being honest. His breath quickened. You weren’t done teasing yet, though. Peering down, the outline of his hard cock straining against his boxer-briefs, a wet spot accumulating in the gray cotton, sent a jolt to your gut.

“Look at you,” your head tilted up, “so hard for me,” you whispered against his lips. Fingers snapped the waistband of his underwear against his stomach. “What a good boy.” Spencer’s brows furrowed against yours, prompting you to plant a kiss between them, leaving your lips there for a second while you dragged a single deep-brown-polished nail up the length of his covered hard-on.

He whined out your name, his voice hiccupping, “Please, please. Touch me.” The sound of paper crushing told you his hands still sitting by your sides were crumpling the files on the table. Spencer tried so hard not to move his hips, fearing you would stop everything. He resided to fist his hands and nudge his head against yours instead.

“Where?” Could you be any more cruel? Spencer groaned in frustration. Yes, you definitely could. He shouldn’t fight it.

“Please! My-my c-cock.” He swallowed hard to stop his stuttering. “Please touch my cock!” More sounds of paper rustling.

You giggled at his desperation, “Oh, honey, you’re so filthy.” Though, if you were being honest, you were just about getting there, too. Your swollen clit was pulsing in excitement, thin underwear increasingly dampening in your slick. If Spencer wasn’t standing between your legs, you’d be pressing your thighs together in an attempt to get yourself off. “If that’s what my baby wants...”

Finally, your right hand descended into his boxer-briefs, quickly using his ample precum to coat your palm before wrapping your fingers around his length. You gave him a good squeeze, prompted by the deep moan he let out, and started to jack him off.

“Oh, my god.” Spencer groaned, head dropping down to your shoulders. His hands flew up to tightly grip the fat of your hips. His hair tickled your ears, hot breath summoned goosebumps across your chest.

You hummed in response, hooking your heels around the back of his calves as you continued pumping. Your other hand moved to cup and press into his balls through his underwear.

“A-ah!” he tensed up a bit. Spencer’s balls were always a very sensitive spot, almost as if he was biologically wired to be afraid of any touch there. It was your favorite thing to do though- especially wrapping your lips around them.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you whispered in his ear, nipping lightly at the lobe, “I’ve gotchu. It feels good, doesn’t it?” Your coos against his cheek immediately soothed the tension in his back and you could feel it radiate off of him in waves.

“Yesss,” He mumbled through a groan, pushing his face into the side of your neck and moving his grip up to your waist, “So good.” He let his hips move now, and so did you. He lightly thrusted up into your fist as much as he could with what little leverage his narrow stance afforded him.

You swiped a thumb over the head of his cock and lightly squeezed his engorged balls, causing him to gasp as his hips involuntarily bucked up. You felt his blazen, wet mouth drop open against your skin. Your hand turned and pushed, twisted and pulled, squeezed and tugged, Spencer’s moans growing louder and louder in your ear. Your eyes remained shut, relishing in the sounds he was making and the feeling of his burning skin against yours. Now, it was your turn to want more.

Suddenly, your hands left his dick. Before he could complain, you pushed his briefs down to fully expose him to the crisp air and pulled yourself closer to him in one motion, ignoring the crinkling of paper beneath you. He could feel the heat of your clothed core press up against his impossibly hard dick, causing the both of you to moan in unison. You rested your hands back on the desk and leaned away.

“Touch me, baby.” you breathed out.

Fuck, yes. Spencer thought as his hands surged forward, quickly undoing the last few buttons of your dress before roughly pushing the barrier open, fully exposing your cleavage. With a groan, his fingers pulled down the cups of your intricately designed bra to expose your perky nipples and his mouth immediately descended on them. Your head rolled back. The gasps and moans he was finally able to pluck from your throat were like music to Spencer’s ears. He sucked, nibbled, licked one areola while he pinched, twirled, and rubbed the other. His thumb rolled over the peak of your left nipple, pressing and dragging into the miniscule dip just how you liked it, causing the pit of your stomach to drop and your body to squirm. “Shit!” you hissed out, head snapping up to get a look at him. Spencer looked up at you in response, his eyes glinting with ferocity. His free arm wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers dug into your side, holding your body up to him. One of your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands to make him moan around your nipple, the other gripped at the knitted fabric on his back. He continued moving from breast to breast, catching his breath only for half-a-second while he pawed at them before latching onto the next. Your squirming movements increased, moans becoming more high-pitched as your hands pulled at his hair in an effort to get his head off of you. It signaled to Spencer: you were becoming overstimulated. His mouth pulled off of you with a pop! and you gasped in response.

He let you catch your breath for a moment, watching the rapid rise and fall of your tits while you watched his face through smiling eyes. The corners of his mouth were slightly wet, lips swollen from all the sucking, hair incredibly disheveled from your man-handling. You couldn't help but bite your lip and hum. So pretty. Just as you were about to speak, Spencer leaned down again and began kissing all over your chest and neck. His big, warm hands moved from your ribs to splay over your back, still holding you up to hover over the desk- one in the middle, the other between your scapulae. Your own moved to wrap around his shoulders. He pressed sloppy, damp kisses along the tops of your breast and over your collar bones before moving to the column of your throat. His lips dragged to each side, stopping to nip and suck here and there. Even in his fevered motions, he remained careful not to leave visible hickies, no matter how badly he wanted to fixate on a single place. Once he was thoroughly satisfied in covering your entire neck with kisses, he focused on the sweet spot on the right side, exactly where your pulsepoint was. “Oh Spencer,” the honeyed words caused him to groan, egging him on even more. Your fingers dug into the back of Spencer's own neck, legs wrapped around his ass, bringing him further into you. One particular suck and bite had you twitch your hips up, successfully rubbing your pussy against Spencer’s poor, neglected cock. This spurred him on. He was doing so well, using all his willpower to focus on pleasing you. To be a good boy for you and not rut his throbbing, leaking dick against your hot, wet cunt, but you finally did it yourself- you started it- which meant Spencer could now lose himself in his desires. The pressure had him nuzzling his face into your neck once again, lips open to breathe heavily against your warm skin.

One of his hands left the middle of your back to travel down your body, moving to grip your thigh and pull you to wrap your legs tightly around his waist while his legs spread further apart. The heightened angle and gained leverage allowed Spencer's cock to drag up and down the entirety of your cunt with greater pressure, drawing out even more noises from the both of you.

“Oh my fucking God, Spence. Feels so good..” your choked out words caused him to dig his nails into your skin. You’d definitely be greeted with little crescent shapes tomorrow morning. You leaned your head against his, hands flying to grab onto wherever you could- tangling in his hair, bunching up in the shirt of his broad shoulders, scratching against his neck.

The pleasure seeped into every crevice of Spencer’s brain, consuming any thoughts that didn’t revolve around you. He held onto you as if letting you go meant sending the world into ragnarok. “God, I..” he mumbled, shifting his grasp on your thigh to firmly cup your head in his palm. He couldn’t stop rutting into you, hunched over your body like a crazed animal, even though it was impeding his ability to speak. He licked his lips, readying to speak.

“I wanna fuck you so badly, baby.”

The intensity of his words, his piercing gaze, and the particularly long and deep drag of his bare cock against your dressed clit practically had you cumming. Your head rolled to hang back in the air, almost hitting the desk if it weren’t for Spencer's other hand on your neck holding it up, thumb draped lightly over your jugular. Your eyes tightly screwed, bottom lip pulled in by your teeth in a sorry attempt to heed the salacious noises leaving your mouth. The light feeling of your pussy fluttering almost had Spencer pulling your barely-there panties to the side and shoving his cock into you.

The man should be lauded and awarded for his self-control, but the need to please you triumphed over every biological impulse or desire Spencer would ever feel. He knew what you wanted. He knew your favorite part about teasing him- playing with him, stringing him up- was the burning, fervent, feral kiss it resulted in. Even though it used all his willpower he stopped his thrusting, pulling a drawn-out whine from the back of your throat. “Nooo,” you huffed and pouted.

With force, Spencer yanked your head up to bring your eyes back to his level. He stared into your wide, surprised eyes for a moment, breathing fast and hard before he pulled you forward. Your lips met in an impassioned embrace, hot and heavy. Greedy mouths wide as if to gorge on each other’s impurities. Both of Spencer’s hands grasped your head, fingers digging into the back of your scalp, almost pulling at strands of your hair. Yours rounded his torso, pulling him as close to you as possible. The feverish kiss was messy, loud, and erotic. Tongues wrestled, teeth clashed, noses collided. The taste of Spencer’s saliva was addictive, your mouth pushed into his to gain as much of it as it could. You swallowed his moans, he happily lapped up yours. The motions of your hips started up again, adding to the delectability.

Spencer tried to pull away from you, but you wouldn’t have any of it. You locked your ankles around his waist and bit his bottom lip in an effort to keep his swollen mouth of yours. He rested his forehead against yours again, thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. The feeling of your panties rubbing against your clit was almost becoming too much.

“Please,” he breathed, “I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you.”

“We c-can’t,” it was your turn to stutter, too overcome with desire to be cocky anymore, “they’ll hear us, we’ll…we’ll get in trouble.” Moans cut into your words. What utter bullshit. The sounds of your debauchery filled every corner of Spencer’s modest hotel room and both of you knew in the back of your fucked-out brains that it was all already dancing down the hallway for everyone to hear. The continuous crumpling of papers; occasional thwap of files hitting the carpeted floor; the consistent thunk, thunk, thunk of the wooden desk beating against the wall; the sharp sound of your kitten heels wrestling with one another around Spencer’s waist; and, of course, the melodiously lewd octaves crawling up from each of your vocal chords.

He hated that answer. You swear you heard Spencer growl as he adjusted to roughly throw each of your legs over his shoulders, always keeping one hand behind your head, before bending over you once again. Your hands flew down to hopelessly grasp at the papers under you. He loved bringing out that surprised look on your face.

“A-ah, Spencer!” The new angle was intoxicating. Every single sensation was overwhelming your senses. The pinches of your dress still bunched up around your upper thighs and creasing in your elbows. The fabric of his vest was rubbing against your hardened and sensitive nipples. Spencer's right hand rested on the base of your throat while the other twisted in your hair. The back of your thighs and calves stretched at the unwarranted position. The smell of musk and sweat proliferated the air around you two. The friction of his stubbled balls chafed your reddening ass. Your bra cups and wire dug into your ribs, the thick belt of your dress pressing your stomach. And of course, the heavenly feeling of his burning, heavy cock rutting against your core. “I think I’m gonna-” you couldn’t finish your exclamation, voice cut off by a sharp gasp of pleasure. No, you weren’t, not yet. You wanted more, too.

Spencer was emboldened by the mixture of oxytocin and endorphins rushing through his veins and the entirety of you engulfing his senses. He gripped your hair tighter as his confidence grew and pushed his forehead harder against yours to look deep into your watering eyes, “I need to feel your tight pussy, baby.” His voice was quiet, yet stern and full- no hint of hesitation or embarrassment. No stuttering or stammering. Your head reeled.

“Fuck me, please!” was all you could say before reaching down and hurriedly grabbing your panties, clumsily pulling them to the side- no toying, no dirty talk, no teasing. Spencer took the cue, using the hand on your throat to instead guide his dick into your entrance.

Finally, he thought while he pushed into you as he straightened up a bit, letting out a guttural groan. The beautiful tone of your sigh tickled his ears. Your pussy was so wet, and in turn so was his cock. You sucked in the entirety of his length with little problem. The thick, pudgy walls of your cunt enveloped Spencer’s dick deliciously, warmth causing his eyes to roll back into his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so tight.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. He still held up your head, but his right hand moved down the outside of your thigh, fisting the lacy tops of your tights with a moan of your name

“Ah! You’re so big, honey.” You groaned in response, hands grabbing onto each of his wrists. It’s true, he was. Not the biggest cock in the world, but he stretched you out so incredibly every time. The perfect size.

You were so close to orgasming- you knew with just a few little movements you’d be pushed over the finish line. Nothing had to be said, though, Spencer was fully aware, but he wanted to savor this a bit more; give you a taste of your own medicine, if you will. He leaned in, pulling your head closer to his to envelope your lips with his again. Your legs sandwiched in between your torsos burned at the stretch, but you paid it no mind.

“Please,” you begged shamelessly against his bottom lip. Spencer let out a small, breathy laugh, pushing your messed up hair out of your face. He pulled away from you to stand up straight, not without gaining a whine in response. You tried to keep your head up to watch him better, but you were losing your strength. With a light thud, you let your head fall against the wooden surface, the wall pressing against the top of your hair. He still wasn’t moving yet, and your orgasm ebbed slightly away. Spencer rubbed his big hands up and down the legs resting on his shoulders, massaging and kissing them wherever he felt like it. He took in the sight of you squirming and whining below him, fingers grasping at any of the random papers left on the desk they could reach, chest heaving. Your pearled nipples stood at attention, compelling him to ghost his fingers over them. He was barely touching you, but the moans and sighs would not stop leaving your throat. With a last kiss to your right calf, Spencer spread your legs open, toes of your kitten heels pointed out towards either side of the room. You watched him through hooded eyelids, hands going to support your legs for him. He tickled his nails deeply up the insides of your thighs, the light pain had you squirming and gasping even more which doubled as your movements had you shifting on Spencer’s cock. It felt so good, but the doctor held his own noises in, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You said,” you pouted breathlessly, “you wanted to fuck me. Hurry, hurry!” You need to cum so badly.

“Isn’t so fun on the other side, is it?” his mischievous smirk mocked you. It was a lie, it was most definitely fun on the receiving end, but it was even more so on this one. His right hand slid up to cup your chin, thumb pressing onto your lips mirroring your earlier actions, “So desperate,” he murmured, hands moving to grab onto your waist. You huffed and shut your eyes, head rolling to the side. You tried to just focus on Spencer’s touch and feel, but he stopped further motions.

You were so beautiful; in every moment of your lives, but especially like this. Spencer paused for a minute, eyes boring into every centimeter of your figure to burn the image of you into his brain. Your hair splayed over the desk, reminiscent of an angel’s halo; eyes screwed shut with smeared mascara at the corners; glossed lips parted in desire. Oh, how delicious they’d look wrapped around his dick. Your inviting, stocking-clad legs held open just for him, manicured fingers digging into the back of your knees. Spencer’s cock excitedly twitched inside of you once his gaze reached your glistening, swollen pussy, the puffy lips gripping the base of him. His hands wrapped around your own, gripping tight, using them and your legs for balance as he slowly pulled his cock out of your entrance, leaving just the tip inside. He was mesmerized, it was a sight he’d seen many times before and was sure to see much more of in the future, but it hypnotized him anyway. He watched as your pussy clenched around him in a failed attempt to keep him in or pull him back, but Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen just yet. His tip pulled out just a bit further before pushing back in a centimeter, repeating the sequence a few more times, playing with your gaping slit. You tried to suck his cock back into you, but Spencer resisted. One more motion and the head of his dick popped out of your clutches with an audible squelch. He reached down this time, grabbing and rubbing his length against your cunt- side to side, up and down. Moans and expletives repeatedly left your mouth, but Spencer continued with a drunken smile on his lips. He slapped the head of his cock against your clit, causing you to twitch and yelp. He loved the reaction, prompting a couple more hits with the same response.

“Spencie…” you whined, ungraciously curling your hips up to gain more friction.

He was about to give in, but there was one other part of you he needed to see. With a single motion, he gripped the outside of your thighs and pulled your body further down the desk, dick sliding against your clit.

“Oh, shit!” you let out, your head craning to look up at him.

Spencer roughly pawed at your dress. He first pulled at the top, but it wouldn’t open up more to give him what he wanted, the belt positioned in the way. He moved on, pushing the skirt even high up, bunching it around your waist. He sighed in delight. The delicate filigree of your black garter belt laying right below your belly button stared up at him seductively, begging him to touch her. Spencer’s hands had a mind of their own as they palmed over the fabric, fingers moving over and under the top band to snap it against your skin- just like you did to him. The sound wasn’t as sharp, nevertheless it brought him pleasure. You mewed, lips curled up in a satisfied smile. Internally, you chuckled. You knew he loved the silly little piece of lingerie.

It was the last piece of the puzzle, the final key to the terminal level. Spencer grabbed two fistfuls of the garter belt and the bunched fabric of your neglected, cooling underwear and, without warning, swiftly pulled you completely onto his cock. You both yelled as he bottomed out, your eyes blowing wide open and jaw dropping slack open.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” Spencer breathed out. The look on your face egged him on. He pulled his cock fully out of you before using your clothing to slam you down onto him again. He stilled for just a second, catching his breath and steadying himself. Before you could utter a single syllable, he began fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

The initial burn faded into sweet bliss. Your pussy fluttered and clenched around Spencer’s dick and he thrusted into you fast and deep. The bruising feeling of his tip pounding into your cervix gave way to a more intense sensation, your orgasm bubbling back up inside. His powerful motions caused your arms to fly up and Spencer deliriously watched your mouth-watering tits bounce up, down, up, down. Your hands pushed against the wall, trying to prevent your head from hitting it. Although at first you both tried to halter your noises, it proved fruitless. Inattentively, you let your moans and gasps and grunts stretch out to be as loud as they so pleased. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but the desire to watch Spencer fuck you was stronger. His hair flopped around at the sides, the strands at his hairline pasted to his forehead with sweat. He looked utterly pornographic, clothes still on but extremely tousled and uncentered. Sleeves pushed up, collar spread open, tie unevenly loose. His belt buckle clanged against itself, hanging from the trousers still draped around his mid-thighs. You removed one of your hands from the wall, pushing up the front of his body as much as you could, instead. You moved the bottom of his shirt and sweater vest to claw at his abdomen, focusing on the happy trail you loved to lick up.

Spencer felt the same way as you. He fought to keep his eyes open, gaze flitting all over your body and face instead. You were intoxicating. When your own wandering eyes met his as your hand came down to his lower stomach, he let out a particularly loud moan, pounding into your even harder. The intensity had you latching onto his wrist. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel better, Spencer moved his thumbs down to your cunt, pushing your swollen pussy lips together around his moving cock before shifting them to press against your clit.

“Holy fuck!” You let out, eyes screwing shut as your other hand left the wall to desperately match your existing hold on Spencer’s wrist. He rubbed in circles with one thumb as best he could, the other pressing into your fatty labia where he knew you had a sensitive spot. You began squirming, nails digging into Spencer’s skin, and you couldn’t even begin to care about your head lightly hitting the wall. “Spencer! I’m gonna come!”

Spencer rubbed just a bit harder into your clit, earning an enthusiastic, “Just like that!” as your eyes rolled back into your head. He groaned at this, feeling your walls close around his dick.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he huffed, maintaining his pace and pressure, “come for me, angel.”

Your core tightened up, and with just a few more thrusts your orgasm came crashing down on you. Waves of blinding white light washed over your body as you gushed around Spencer’s cock with a call of his name. The gripping and flitting of your pussy had Spencer groaning and he quickly shifted his arms, letting go of his hold on your garter belt and underwear to hold on to your waist, your limping legs hooking over his elbows. He didn’t let up his thrusts, chasing the orgasm of his own he was so close to reaching. He pushed the impending feeling down, not wanting to give up the sanctity of your hot cunt just yet, but he couldn’t stop his hips.

As your orgasm began to subside and overstimulation prickled along your nerves, you tried to clench your legs closed, but Spencer wasn’t having any of it. He bent over you to push your legs open and press his forehead back onto yours. “Spencer!” you gasped, staring up at him wide-eyed and frantic. Your hands gripped his flexing forearms, “It’s too much!”

“You’re gonna take it,” he grunted out, fingers digging into the fat of your sides. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard for a second, his thrusts beginning to show signs of faltering. You felt so fucking good he almost wished he didn’t ever have to come, that he could fuck you through orgasm after orgasm without stopping. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded vigorously, babbling incoherently in agreement through frenzied moans.

“So you’re gonna take it just like this,” he gulped, pushing down a groan at your clenching pussy, “and I’m gonna fucking come inside of you.” His last words came out in a growl, drawing out longer moans from you as his thrusts started to include sloppier grinds.

Spencer's pelvis grounded into your clit, his balls continued to slap against your ass, his erotic words mushed your brain, and soon the overstimulation pulling tears from your eyes turned into ecstasy and you neared a second orgasm. A strewn out, deep “Fuckk,” crawled from Spencer’s throat as your cunt squeezed him in quick succession, followed by your name being whispered and moaned repeatedly like a mantra.

You wanted to come again at the same time as him, and you were right at the edge, just as you knew he was, so you pushed him further to the precipice, “Spencer,” you pleaded breathlessly, “come on, baby.” You rested your hand on his cheek, urging him to open his eyes and look at you. “Fill me up.”

He groaned in response, head dropping down to press against the top of your breasts. A couple more sloppy, hard thrusts and he started “I’m gonna-”

But just before he could finish, you were jolted into stillness by a deafened boom, boom, boom. What the hell?

Someone was at the door.

You let out a yelp, Spencer’s hand immediately flew up to slap against your mouth.

“Reid? What’s going on in there?” You heard from the other side of the door. It was fucking Rossi.

Author's Note: muahaha >:D idk why but this is just how i imagined this piece ending. hope you guys liked ittttt, if you're reading this thanks for sticking to it. should i write a pt.2? i def already know how i'd continue (tho not smutty). did not think smut would be the first spencer fanfic i'd post. thinking of writing a follow up where spencer finally gets his release teehee. i'd love feedback and comments, pls! ty lovelies <3

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #can you tell i loovvee foreplay ehehe #this took me over a week to write lmao #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid

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devilmademewriteit · 11 months

Text

Dark Paradise

part 3 of Salvatore

read part 1, Salvatore, here

read part 2, Playing Dangerous, here

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: left alone in javi’s bed, you go looking for distractions. finding them only leads you further into his world: a world of danger and violence, where no one can protect anyone.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, super SUPER light choking) so 18+ only content; pet names (cariño, hermosa, querida, sweetheart, baby) afab fem reader; reader is American; mentions of hair pulling; allusions to SA; attempted SA against reader (not by javi); violence against reader (hitting, slapping, manhandling); smoking; dubcon (power imbalance, trauma sex??).

word count: 7k+

no use of y/n in this fic

u guys. it is here. and the most exciting part is I can already promise u a part 4!! pls be mindful that this part is darker than the rest. it has many triggering themes, so many sure u read the warnings & stay on the safe side of things.

as always, love u all so effing much. feedback, reblogs, comments & asks are always appreciated, & don’t forget to join the taglist in my pinned post !

-em<3

—

No one compares to you. I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side.

- Dark Paradise

“Girl, where did you go?”

You’re on the landline with Carrie, one of the few half-friends you'd made living in Medellín, thighs sore and bruised from the backseat-loving you’d received the night before. While Javi’s at work, you’re on (his words) 'house arrest,' and lounging alone in his apartment feels eerily quiet. The occasional car drives by—you try not to listen for the sound of scraping tires.

So, around 9:30, you’d decided to fill the silent space with a bit of vapid conversation, realizing that last night's antics (and your unexplained disappearance) may have caused a bit of confusion.

You start by filling Carrie in on the generalities: the guns, the car, and the rescue, at first planning to leave out the more… personal details.

Like the one you'd filed away under 'Riding a Cop to High Heaven in the Backseat of his Jeep.'

You also leave out the part where, afterwards, you’d kicked off your heels by his front door, let down your hair in a sloppy, half-drunk movement, made a beeline to the familiar crinkles and folds of his unmade bed, and swiftly passed out in his embrace.

Oh, to fall asleep between those arms for the rest of eternity.

Given your more cynical—okay, borderline self-denying—approach to life, you felt downright ashamed of how much you’d enjoyed it. How much you’d enjoyed him and all of his lasting touches.

And in the morning… Javi’s hardness biting into your hip was a more efficient wake-up-call than the trial nuke sirens back home; the soft kisses laid down the length of your neck and the long, lazy fingers creeping down your abdomen had you surging to consciousness with embarrassing speed. You’d shivered into wakefulness, flattened against his chest.

“Good morning, cariño.” His words were molasses, melted caramel, thick and damp with sleep.

“Hmmmh,” was your only reply, sloping into your highest octaves as his hand sank to push aside your already-ruined underwear, dipping lower to toy with the switch only he knew how to turn on best. Arching into his spine, last night’s dress crumpled up above your waist, leaving him to feel more, more, more of you.

“Thought it would take more convincing,” he breathed against your shoulder, a breeze of late august air.

“Wh’time z’it?”

“We have time, cariño, we have time.”

When his digits pulled a moan from your lips, no other answers really mattered. He’d loosed that deep, guttural rumble of approval that made your chest swell with pride, your legs part in service and need.

“Can you hold this leg up for me, baby? S’all you need to do.” He’d helped fold up your knee, and you’d turned to meet him with pleading, drooping eyes, dutifully contorting to mold into the shape of his body. “Perfect, baby, good job,” a rough kiss to your temple, “n’I can do the rest, hermosa—I’ll do the rest.”

He slid in effortlessly, harmonizing to your sigh of relief with a “shit, s’wet,” and sheathing his cock between the folds of your morning slick. Brows furrowing, mouth falling open, you had every detail of your bliss etched on your expression, all for the beautiful man looming over you. “Always fuckin’ askin’ for it, huh, sweetheart?” He'd mused. “Woke me up moanin’ in your sleep, cariño—dreamin’ about last night?”

An “mhmm,” was all you could muster. Javi’s hips rolled against your ass, and the resulting feeling of overwhelming fullness had you swearing you were still in reverie. When he paused, snaked his arms under your neck and around your waist, and pulled you flush against his chest, you remember it feeling like a dirty, desperate hug.

“M’sore, Javi,” you’d whined at the stretch of your opening, the continued drag of Javi’s fingers against your aching, weary clit.

“S’no excuse, baby,” he’d grumbled into the shell of your ear, pressing hard into that tender bundle of nerves. “Gotta get you used to it.”

A harrumph as he’d turned up the intensity, punishing you for your protests. “Y-you’re a mean-mean man, Javier Peña.”

Soft, gravelly laughter danced, twirled, traveled along the dip of your neck. “‘N you’re gonna come so hard for this mean, mean man.”

He was right, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with the thick, rough pads of his fingertips, the tip of his cock sliding up and down, over and over, in and out of your guts.

“Yeah—yes—m’gonna come for you, Javi,” you’d admitted.

But he’d stolen his magical digits away, used them to turn your jaw, to square your face off with his own concentrated, lust-filled expression. “Show me cariño, yes—gonna be picturin’ that pretty lil’ face aaaaall fuckin’ day,” and you’d tumbled over the edge the moment he’d slid back down to the apex of your thighs, drowning in the darkness of his cinnamon-brown irises and the tantalizing circles—drawn from memory—against your clit.

“J-javi—it feels—feels s-so good—”

“I know, hermosa, s’just what you needed, fuck—”

He was already close enough, but your climaxing trembles and your whining, choked gasps had him wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing you further and further down the length of his tensing shaft.

“Shit—you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me—”

His release came fast and hard, leaking his hot spend into you, painting your insides like brushstrokes on canvas with his final thrust.

He seemed to lay there for forever, softening between your walls as sweet slumber carried you off once more. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he’d advised against your shoulder (as if you’d needed any kind of encouragement), “Did such a good job; go back to sleep.”

It was easy to accede to his command.

You’d come to for a half-second as he’d placed, fully dressed, the clink of his belt and the crisp waft of his cologne rousing you to near-consciousness, a deliberate, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Don’t answer the door for anyone else, okay, hermosa?”

“Huh? Oh—mhm.”

And you’d vaguely registered a low laugh. “Good to know you’re so well behaved when you’re half-asleep.” His finger traced your cheekbone, dragged down to pull teasingly at your bottom lip. “Means I’ll have to keep fuckin’ you to the point of exhaustion.”

“Mhm—please." Squished and mumbled, guttural and breathless.

Another soft laugh, and then echoes of receding footsteps.

Waking up a few hours later, you’d peeled your sticky thighs apart, confused at first by the mysterious pool of wetness between your legs.

You didn’t bother cleaning it up, already feeling the loss of your DEA officer. You somehow chose to dial Carrie's number to kill some time on your day off (or else, you feared, you’d have quickly found another use for your bored fingers).

Being alone in his room leaves you feeling very young. Lying in his bed, thinking about the past night’s events… you feel giddy, like a highschool girl after her first time, and anxious, on edge without Javier’s protection.

You just want to gush about it.

“Do you remember that DEA agent? The Texan?”

You barely have time to finish your thought before Carrie’s cutting your question short.

“Sexy Javi?”

She giggles. You snort indelicately into the receiver.

“I never called him that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she returns. “I deduced it from the amount of times you ranted to me about his… callers.”

You fiddle with the telephone chord, smiling artfully to yourself. “I’m in his bed right now.”

There’s a slap. No doubt the sound of a hand clapping over a set of slack lips. And then—

“I thought he lived outside the city?!”

It’s a strange reaction. You’d expected something a bit more on-topic, confused at your friend’s preoccupation with Peña’s living quarters when you’d just divulged such an out-of-character, personal detail.

Well, at least the enthusiasm is there.

“No, he lives right by the embassy.” You respond, rolling lazily onto your side. Opening the top drawer of his bedside table, you grimace to yourself, taking in (on top of the empty bottle of men’s cologne and an old, broken watch) a box of tissue paper, a pair of handcuffs (not regulation), a smatter of sex toys, and a few scattered, unopened condoms. “That new… fancy building on the corner,” you continue, swiping a few tissues between your legs, trying not to giggle at the teasing Javi was in for tonight, “Carrie—are you seriously not gonna ask how it was?”

There’s a pause. You hear a rustle in the background; the sound reminds you of students in class, whipping out pens and notebooks.

Is she taking notes?

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

That reaction felt more appropriate.

It all comes bursting out of you—the night out, Javi’s rescue, your backseat escapade. Carrie’s an ideal audience, gasping and ‘oooh’-ing and ‘girl!’-ing at all the right moments.

When you get to the end of your tale, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Carrie pries for more and more specifics, keeping you on the phone for close to an hour. You don't give her everything (did she really need an approximation of his size?) but you do make sure to remind her, often, that Javier Peña was an excellent fuck.

Finally, the conversation dies down. Sitting up, you realize just how desperately you’re in need of a shower. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the smell of sex, tequila, and Javi’s day-old cologne clinging to your skin, but his place gets hot, and you hadn't anticipated the need to pack deodorant in your purse during last night's going-out prep.

Either way, Carrie's become distracted, the length between your words and her responses growing with every passing minute. You notice a Spanish conversation taking place in the background, no doubt the reason for her decreasing attentiveness.

You’re about to hang up, launching into a polite, “alright girl, I’ll let you go” when she goes back in for more.

“Is he home now?”

She blurts it out, and you're a bit taken aback. Frankly, the urgency of her tone feels a little jarring.

“Um, no,” you answer, uncertain, stretching out your vowels, “I think he went in early today.”

“Good.”

Her clipped tone continues to confuse you. It’s… not playful anymore. It’s administrative.

Commercial.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” a flutter of shrill laughter, “Just wanted to make sure he’s not listening in on our—”

There’s a knock at the door before she can finish. You call out just a sec! automatically, pulling on your rumpled clothes from the night before as the receiver tumbles onto the unmade bed.

It’s only once you’ve lumbered over, wiped the grogginess from your eyes, once you’ve unlocked the door and twisted the handle—it’s only once your head is covered with a thick, scratchy fabric, once the world’s gone dark and a cry of surprise is wrenched from your throat—that you recall Javi’s warning:

Don’t open the door for anyone else.

Something else takes over. Something primal. Fight, fight, fight. Find the flesh and punish it, scramble for purchase into any detectable, softer areas. Squirm until your legs give out, 'till your knees hit the floor and the beginnings of bruises scatter across your burning skin in a plethora of vulnerable places.

But when you thrash around like that, make sure your head doesn’t hit the doorframe.

Because then? It’s lights out.

—

The first thing you notice is the smell.

Weed and tobacco. Wet weed and tobacco. It’s not a smell you’re accustomed to (you worked for the DEA, for crying out loud). It makes your already-pounding head spin, so it takes a second before you remember that you’re not safe—you’re not at home, you’re not at Javi’s, and you’re not with Javi.

Instincts kick in. Your stomach aches with fear, lighting you up from the inside, energizing every inch of your body. You wrench, pull, struggle against the restraints suffocating your wrists, binding your hands around the back of a rickety, wooden chair. You can’t kick at anything, either. Your ankles are crossed, squished on top of each other and secured by a firm length of (what you assume to be) rope.

And then the canvas is unceremoniously yanked off of your head, taking a few hairs from your scalp along with it.

You squint, blinking into the dim light, slowly adjusting to your surroundings: some sort of musty basement with concrete walls and floors, decorated by nothing except a couple of small, rectangular windows near the too-high ceilings. It’s completely empty—save for your company.

One, two, three strangers. All men. All Cartel, by the looks of them.

And all positively leering.

The one nearest you, holding the bag in his hands, speaks down to you. It’s quick and harsh, mocking and cruel. Spanish and unintelligible.

Your hatred towards the captor blinds you; it coaxes the animal out of its cage. You spit: “I don’t speak Spanish, motherfucker.”

(Even if you did, the adrenaline coursing through your veins wouldn’t allow you much room for comprehension).

From the shadows, another man appears. He lumbers over to you, and you notice the peculiarity of his European-looking hat as he squats down to level with you.

He clicks his tongue, dousing you with a look of disapproval. “That’s not very nice, hermosa.”

You shiver. Javi had called you that before, many times. And even though it sounded totally different coming from this foul man’s mouth, shrouded under the veil of a thick, Spanish accent, it sticks.

You hold your tongue, biting it to keep from sobbing. The glint in his eye, visible behind his glasses, moves from playfulness to exasperated ire.

He sighs, stands, and grabs your hair, tilting your head back harshly to look down at you. “You’re very hard to catch, you know that?” He muses, darkness trickling across his features. “But you’re alone now, Americana. No DEA—no Javier Peña to protect you.”

He makes a mockery of his name, oozing cockiness as it comes spitting out of his smirk. You glare up at him, simmering anger and bubbling fear claiming you. Would they go after Javi?

No. They wouldn’t dare.

Only an American like yourself—low-value, replaceable, unnoticeable—was expendable.

“What do you want from me?”

He smiles, releasing your head and taking a step back.

“You’re the assistant, aren’t you?” And that deceptively sweet tone is back, frightening you more than his rage. “We need directions, hermosa. You’ve been in all the government buildings—we know, we watched you. Why don’t you give us some assistance,” he pauses, leaning down towards you, “And tell us where your evidence against Pablo Escobar is filed.”

You snort, unimpressed, shocked, and a little humoured by his little monologue. This was what they were after?

This was why you'd been fearing for your life?

A fucking… map?

“Find someone else. I don’t know shit.”

It’s honestly true. The bastards could not be barking up a more wrong tree. For all their criminal genius, they hadn’t managed to catch the fact that you really, truly didn’t give a flying fuck about the particulars of your job.

But if this was about Escobar—the Pablo Escobar—then these were men from the Medellín cartel. The same Medellín cartel that left scores of expendable bodies in its wake, that bombed, assassinated, and tortured government workers like they were no more than rats in a science lab.

You weren’t the end-all, be-all of this operation.

No, you were just another lead.

A lead that (only you knew) led to jack-all. Unless they were scrambling to learn about the best places to go out dancing or the worst brands of moisturizer, you had very little to offer the thugs.

The one with the strange hat—the ringleader, you decide—shares a smile with his co-conspirators, and you begin to regret the arrogance of your statement.

“There are many ways we can do this,” he warns, voice sloping down to a dangerous hum. “It can be easy…” and he lowers a hand to his belt buckle, setting every cell in your body on fire, “Or hard.”

It‘s a plea to God more than a question for your captor, your desperate, self-pitying: “Why me?” It can't be above a whisper, but the asshole responds anyway.

“It’s more enjoyable when we get to work with something pretty.” A dark laugh. “Who’s going to come looking for you, hermosa? Your family? Your friends? Your… government?” He clicks his tongue again, looking down at you in mock concern. “Like I said, we’ve been watching. You have a habit of disappearing. Running away.”

Figures.

Figures that the reason you’d wound up with your life on the line, your body in danger, was because of you. Once again, it boiled down to the lack of attachments you’d curated over the years, passing from one thing to another, quick on your feet the second they hit solid ground. For God’s sake, the only reason you’d made it this long in Medellín was because it hadn’t managed to bore you yet.

Figures that the closest thing to stability you’d been able to find was in the crime capital of the world. It was poetically honest, laughably ironic.

Of course, the American government would assume you’d fucked off—just another ditzy contractor swept up in the thrill of a south-American life.

The other part held water, too—no one would come looking for you. Your boss might huff about ‘these flighty secretaries, can’t hold ‘em down for anything,’ but beyond that, your disappearance would cause less than a stir.

Somehow, that thought comforted you. The lack of collateral, the lack of another’s suffering… very little harm would befall the world in the wake of your absence. Peace was beginning to crest upon your settling soul. And, either way, you’d worked in this line of work for long enough to know that your death warrant had been signed the very second they’d seen you as a target.

You give the bastards what they want? You die.

You hold off? You die.

All things considered, you resign yourself, making up your mind.

Still, your defiant voice quivers as you say it.

“Fuck you.”

The ringleader smiles, like a predator cornering its prey, taking that first bite into hard-earned flesh. Your brain responds, screaming warnings in big letters, in flashing red ink. He barks an order to his underlings in Spanish, and the other two men come forward, roughly undoing the holds along your ankles, your wrists.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

But they don’t listen, yanking you upright and shoving you onto the ground. Your vision becomes hazy. Something takes over, a protective instinct, perhaps, barring you from your own body. Distantly, you observe yourself fighting, but really all you feel is beyond. The words ‘I am not here, this is not happening’ wash over you over and over again, like a cleansing, salt-water wave.

Hands on cement. Clothes torn, destroyed—the cold barrel of a gun to your head, a man barking orders, hitting, slapping—and right as the worst is about to happen, everything just…

Stops.

It’s like they’re spellbound, bugs frozen in amber.

You hear the cause of it well after your torturers do. Footsteps upstairs, and gunshots, screams followed by the definite sounds of a creeping squadron.

The men get messy. Scrambling around, they gather their options. In your dazed periphery, you watch their eyes latch onto one of those open windows, 8 or 9 feet up from the ground.

A hushed conversation ensues. You're familiar enough with the more violent side of the Spanish vocabulary to string together their meaning.

“Shoot her? — no, the noise, they’ll find us faster — kill her? — too long — take her? — too messy — we have to go, we have to go, we have to go.”

Your ruined shirt is shoved down your throat, and then you’re gagging on it, ankles bound once more, shaking and naked on the freezing concrete. The trio uses the little wooden chair to frantically sneak out of the window.

It would be downright comical if you weren’t so terrified.

Soon, you’re alone, choking on cotton and wriggling to flatten your back against the wall. Centuries pass before the movement upstairs graduates to the basement below.

Relief doesn’t grace you. Any man—DEA, cartel, or Colombian police—would likely perform the same violence as your previous captors had planned to. A naked girl, roughed up and completely unprotected, in a dark, hidden basement, totally at their mercy… Shit. You were basically an invitation. A free meal, offered up to a different, hungry crowd.

You just pray that this one might be gentler.

The stairs creak under the certain weight of bodies in motion.

Tears run down the side of your face, dripping down from your temple onto the ground below. You compress into a ball, making yourself as small as possible.

The echoes grow louder, closer and closer. At this point, you just hope they’ll assume you’re an enemy or get trigger-happy and give you a quick taste of lead. Put you out of your misery.

Giving up was well within your comfort zone.

Someone gasps when they see you, and a single name hurtles through the space.

An out-of-commission part of your mind recognizes it—the name—knows it as a comfort. Still, you only tremble, trying to disconnect yourself from what must be a wishful, crafted, deceitful version of reality.

Then someone else comes forward. Your eyes, weary of keeping you in the dark, fling open just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man push through the crowd of soldiers. You watch his expression—shock to rage, rage to relief, and then rage all over again.

He rushes you, falling to his knees before your wrecked form.

His first move is to wrench the fabric from your mouth. You croak out the most desperate sob of relief, all those stifled, unvoiced expressions of terror tumbling out in great-big-heaves.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

“No.” You respond.

“Did they…?”

“No.”

Javi tears his big doe-eyes, filled with worry, away from yours, twisting to impatiently address the frozen crowd of four or five behind him. “Can somebody take these fuckin’ ties off?”

Switchblades slice through twine. Someone brings you a blanket, and Javi bundles you up in it, gathering you and lifting you in his arms. You don’t resist, clinging around his neck and hiding in the comfort of his shoulder.

“Hermosa—”

You regret the way you flinch. “Please—please don’t call me that anymore.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask questions, sounding a little softer, a little more unsure when he presses on, muffling the desperate edge to his tone. “Did you see where they went?”

“The window. Out the window.”

Most of the rest take to that almost immediately, scattering to start on their chase. Javi delivers a set of orders in his native tongue.

Then, he grows silent, carrying you through the house with two soldiers in the lead. “Close your eyes, okay? You don’t wanna see this.” But now that they’re open, you can’t seem to shut them. You only glimpse flashes of the upstairs area. Tables covered in paper, glass contraptions and coke, so much coke, which is almost more impressive than the quantity of blood splattered against the peeling walls.

And Carrie.

Carrie with half her brains hanging out, long, dark, red-soaked hair fanning around her crown like a rotten halo, lounging on the couch, fingers splayed and palms to the sky as if she were ready to wrap them around a glass of white wine—as if she were ready to catch up on girl-talk.

What’s Carrie doing here?

Should I ask her?

She’s dead.

No, she’s not. She’s right there. She was waiting for me to be done so we could catch up. That’s just how she always sits—it’s just the scoliosis.

That’s why she always showed up so late to the club. She… she couldn’t dance too long because of the scoliosis.

You’re still debating whether or not Carrie would be up for a bit of gossip, another debrief, when big, strong arms lower you into the passenger seat of a Jeep Cherokee.

Javier buckles you in.

“We can’t go to your place—that’s…” and you trail off weakly, throat burning with effort. “That’s where they took me.”

He nods, his face a complete mask of concentration.

But you know him.

He’s holding everything back. You appreciate him for that, never wanting to hear a man shout for the rest of your cursed time on Earth.

“Steve’s, then.”

It’s your turn to nod.

—

Javier drives in complete and total silence, only speaking the occasional clipped sentence into his radio. Despite your vulnerability, despite your overwhelming gratitude, you feel guilty for taking him away from his work, from his team. For forcing him to rescue you once again.

For sure, he’s angry. Would he have to move? Find a new place? Leave all his stuff at the old one? Would a better captive have paid better attention, taken note of the exact direction her kidnappers had taken off in after clearing the window?

Soon, you’re settled against a couch, the light from the opposing window breaking in and dancing across Javi’s face. A blonde woman—fiery, familiar, concerned—hands you a glass of water.

Javi watches you, eyebrows notched together, lips drawn into a thin line as you take a slow sip in silence. The liquid slides down your throat, cooling and soothing the rips and tears there.

And they both won’t stop staring. Truly, their joint study makes you self-conscious, watching on with unapologetic intent as you shiver under the scratchy blanket.

Finally (thankfully), Steve's wife—Connie, you recall—speaks.

“You can go, Javi. I'll take it from here.”

“No.”

She looks borderline offended at his line in the sand.

“I don’t think she’s in any shape to talk, Peña.” It’s authoritative, protective, clearly marked with harboured resentment.

She'd make a good mom.

He scoffs. “I’m not gonna make her talk, Connie. Just don’t wanna leave her like... this.”

Connie looks confused. They share a glance, and an eventual understanding passes over her expression. In fact, even in your distressed state, you’re almost certain you catch a hint of a smile.

“Well if you’re both staying, we’ll need food.”

Javi nods absentmindedly, lighting up a smoke. You look away, still feeling the weight of his eyes boring into your ducked head.

She clears her throat. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Remember to lock the door, Javi.”

Then, swinging her coat on, she traces an awkward line out of the apartment.

Silence flits across the room. The agent continues to study you from his seat at the counter across the room.

“Are you okay?”

You pick at your nails, internally asking yourself the same question.

“I’m just glad you were there,” you muster up, looking up at his softened, warm gaze. Concern etches a couple of fresh lines on his face.

Javi nods, taking a long drag. “Always, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there, too.”

You shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he and his team had showed up just a few minutes later. What shape he would have found you in, or if you’d ever permit yourself to feel the touch of a man again. Of anyone again.

“Why were you there?”

The question comes out of nowhere, bursting out the moment you realize that you hadn’t yet bothered to ask him how he’d pulled off yet another well-timed rescue.

It couldn’t have been in answer to your prayers—those had never worked for you before.

“Carillo’s been following Escobar’s cousin for a while. Zeroed in on the neighbourhood, but we spent all morning doing searches. Honestly,” he breaks off for a moment, rubbing at his temples, “It was just damn luck that we found you when we did. Wish I could say it wasn't, but it was. We were gettin’ ready to call it off. I had… no idea you weren’t at home.”

He blames himself for it. You can tell. In turn, you blame yourself for that—for his misguided, self-inflicted anger.

There’s more left unsaid.

“My friend—I called her this morning. From your place. She was there. She was… dead. I think.”

Javi doesn’t react, evidence of the years of gore, wreckage, and betrayal he'd witnessed.

You swallow, soldiering on.

“I told her. I told her where I was. Could she… could she have told them?”

Is she the reason this happened to me?

Slowly, lips pressed around his cigarette, Javi nods. “I’m sorry,” he barely mumbles.

Strangely enough, you’re not. That’s what you say: “I’m not.” And it’s true. “She was upstairs when it was all happening. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Now, he looks at you with a consideration that swells into a kind of respect. Not a respect, no not respect. A knowing. A new kind of understanding, of equal footing.

You meet him head-on with it, basking in your retribution, revelling in the immediate justice she'd been served. You’d mourn the person you thought she was when your wounds weren’t so open, so fresh.

"They wanted directions, Javi," you suddenly blurt out, voice hoarse, "Isn't that insane? They were gonna... they were gonna do that for directions. Not even the evidence, just fucking directions-"

Javi lifts his hands in the air, signalling for you to slow down. Normally, it would make you want to tear his arrogant head off. Now, however, you just do, although the silence isn't very comforting. After a moment, you can tell there's something Javi’s been avoiding, something he’s holding in. The agent clears his throat, finally calling it quits on his tiptoe-ing around the subject.

“Cariño," he begins, "I know you told me earlier, but I... I gotta be sure. Did they hurt you in… any way?”

God, he sounds so deeply wary, unable even to speak his fear into existence. You shake your head no, prompting his shoulders to relax.

“Okay. Good,” he breathes, crossing his arms and looking down at the rug. “Don’t think I could…”

Panic ripples through your frame.

'Doesn’t think he could' what? Bear to look at me, knowing the enemy had been where he’d been, done what he’d done? Touch me in the same grooves they'd left on my skin? Javi’s not that kind of man—is he?

“Don’t think I could forgive myself if anything were to happen to you under my watch.”

The rush of anxiety quickly dissipates, replaced by a stifling bloom of admiration and adoration across your chest. Like soft tendrils, warming your shivering body from within.

You smile self-consciously, scoff, and meet his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘under your watch,’ Javi. I opened the door. It was my fault.”

He raises his eyebrows, huffing a breath before ashing his dart, rising, carving a path towards the couch-cushion next to you and taking your glass of water from between your hands. It clinks as he sets it on the table. Taking your unsteady hands between his hardened palms, he coaxes you into meeting his golden eyes.

“It’s not your fault, herm—” a pause as he corrects himself, noticing your flinch, “—cariño. It’s not your fault.”

He waits for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself go limp, dragged into the plushness of the couch and the firmness of his chest.

He lays a kiss to your forehead. He fidgets with your hair. He traces long, lazy lines up and down your spine.

How had you gone from that youthful giddiness this morning to this dark, anxious wreck in a matter of hours? It wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

The comfort your agent provides is good—will always be good—but you want more. Every inch of attention he gives you is just another step away from that cold basement, a foot towards freedom.

Time heals all wounds, and you want a distraction while you face those excruciating seconds. Something to move it along. Something to keep you busy, to keep the harrowing images at bay.

So you tilt your head up. Finding his lips, you press into him, shuddering when the rough hairs of his mustache tickle your top lip. When your body asks for more, when your tongue meets his and your hand drops to his thigh, Javi tenses, pulling back and breaking off the kiss.

“Sweetheart—you’re not in a good place,” he whispers, lovingly running his fingers through your hair.

You look up at him with eyes full of need, wordlessly begging him to give in. “I am now,” you assure him, tossing a leg over his hips and straddling his body. His expression darkens as you slowly chip away at his resolve, one touch at a time. “I’m with you.”

He smiles, plucking your hands from his chest. Every kiss he lays to your knuckles sends a ripple of electricity up and down your spine. “That right?” He muses between embraces. “That all you need?”

You nod, the pace of your shallow breaths picking up in anticipation. “When you touch me, Javi, it’s like you’re cleaning them off me,” you croon, leaning forward to brush your lips against his jaw.

“You’re in shock, baby,” but his hands defy his words, slipping down to circle your waist, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Slowly, deliberately, you lean back to stare directly into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You feel him tense at that, his body hardening alongside the weight building underneath your thigh. He lets you go on, deft hands pooling onto your hips.

“Get rid of them for me,” you plead, grinding down onto his bulge.

“Make me all yours again.”

That does it.

His hands shoot up to your face, firmly cupping your cheeks between their heat. Then, Javi’s kissing you harder than before, warming your desire up to a feverish level. You moan into him, turning to putty in his grasp.

He peppers kisses down your jaw and up your neck, allowing you to clumsily untuck his shirt and undo his belt. It’s frantic and needy—it’s pure business. You free his length from the confines of his clothes, heavy breaths mingling when you look down in tandem, hungrily watching your small, delicate hand pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his dark crown of cropped curls falling back against the couch, “You make it fuckin’ hard to be a good guy.”

You smile, spreading the slick dribbling at his tip around the head of his cock.

God, the sight of him never gets old.

“Good guys listen, Javi,” you tease, managing to pull off an air of sultriness, “Not just to no—also to yes.”

A lazy, roguish grin spreads across his face. “You are feeling better, aren’t you?” and he knocks a squeal out of you when he cages you in his arms, flipping you over ‘till your back’s digging shapes into the worn-in cushions below. “Gettin’ mouthy already.”

You giggle up at him, but all of your noises dwindle when a few rough fingers push your torn, ruined underwear to the side. You grow especially wordless when one separates your folds and makes its way inside you.

Javi gives you his signature look of condescension, of mock pity.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He taunts, thumbing that aching bundle of nerves. “All the ways I’ve had my dick in you, just this—” he makes a point to curl his fingers towards himself, pressing against the most desire-stricken spot, “—‘n you can’t find your words?”

Your throat won’t open, choking around your own pleasure. Instead, you nod with enthusiasm, desperately clinging onto his forearm. “More.”

He quickly accedes, pushing another long and thick finger inside you. You shudder at the perfect sting—the stretch—as your opening hugs his knuckles. Javi mutters curses to himself, angry and lustful, supervising your writhing form.

“No one else gets to see you like this.” He speaks low, sitting up to work you with both hands. Your body responds without your permission; Javi clicks his tongue and shoves you back down when your hips buck up. “Don’t deserve it,” he continues voicing his thought as if no interruption had occurred, “I’d have to track ‘em down and kill ‘em.”

His tone goes beyond protectiveness, easily veering into the realm of the possessive. “I-I wouldn’t be good f-for them, Javi,” you manage, wanting to comfort him, to calm him, “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh,” he smirks down at you, finally pulling his fingers from your soaked, ready cunt. “Like you listen to me?”

You spread your legs for him, shimmying down until he’s hovering right above you. He strokes himself, taking you in with hunger, playfulness and… something else.

Something like devotion.

A smile. You stroke his jaw. “You come harder when I misbehave.”

He shrugs and nods, a silent, ‘you got me there,' before lining himself up at your entrance.

You whimper, a pathetic, pleading sound, when the head of his cock finds your opening. “Then make sure to misbehave.”

He rocks inside you, taking note of the way your jaw goes slack, hanging open, and the way your brow furrows, grateful eyes glazing over, showing high praise for that feeling of fullness.

And he laughs to himself.

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he coos, settling into a comfortable rhythm. “Beggin’ for cock after bein’ kidnapped. I shouldn’t be feedin' into your crazy, cariño.”

It is crazy. But you don’t care, giggling along to his taunt.

“Just makes me feel so-so good, Javi,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, sitting back to tower over you, pressing your thighs to your calves; the new angle has bliss rippling through your centre, your back arching involuntarily. “What feels good?”

He shoves your hips down, lowering a finger back to your clit.

“Oh—God—y-yourcock—” he nods approvingly at you, beckoning you to go on, “your—your fingers, too.”

He slows his pace, pulling out fully before slamming back inside you.

“Look at it, cariño,” Javi instructs, steadying your hips once more. “Watch me fuck your pretty lil’ pussy.”

You struggle onto your elbows and obey, mouth slack and perpetually open. Pressure builds at your core as you watch every inch of his hard, dark length disappear, over and over, inside the shelter of your body. It’s so dirty, and somehow the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“M-made for you, Javi.”

And he moans, an animalistic sound you’d never heard from him before.

“S’right, baby, made just for me.” He flattens his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Can you come for me now?”

You nod, grateful for his permission as soon as you start to feel your thighs shake. The tension snaps within you, and you tumble over the edge of your climax with a high pitched whine.

“Good girl,” he praises, low, deep, and bristling with pleasure, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You ride it out. Javi shows no mercy, squeezing your waist and bouncing your lower half against him. His biceps and shoulders strain against his shirt, the sight making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After having him a few times, you were well aware of his impressive stamina—Javi wasn’t going to finish without giving you another one. Nonetheless, the overwhelming pleasure has you squirming away from his unrelenting grasp.

He pulls you back against him, steadying you between two forceful hands.

And he fucks you harder.

“Still remember them, querida? ” He breathes.

You find your voice, using great effort to stammer out a “y-yes."

It's not the correct answer.

Javi growls, “Then I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

His shirt grazes the insides of your thighs, and you're certain that every part of his form is working to set your skin on fire. A skilled hand wraps around your jaw, and Javi leans over you, lowering his lips to latch around a hard, peaked nipple.

Your whimpers do nothing to stop him. He just keeps rhythmically rocking into you, the head of his cock reaching impossible, beckoning depths.

An almost-sob wracks your lungs. “S’a lot, huh? Takin’ all this cock inside you…” Javi shushes you with feigned sympathy, nipping and suckling at the softest spots at his disposal. “S’okay, baby, s’okay.”

Then he makes his way to your lips, forces you to kiss him—deeply—as your lungs scream for oxygen. He locks your hands above your head in just one of his own, the pressure of his weight the only thing keeping your squirming limbs in place.

And then his mouth is sliding down your jaw, his breaths hot and heavy next to your ear.

“Fuck—can feel you gettin’ close, sweetheart, gonna come again?”

All you can do is nod.

He rolls into you—hard and deep—forcing tears to pull from the outer corners of your eyes.

“S-so good to me,” you manage, seeing pure white as your third orgasm of the day blooms from between your seizing legs.

He groans, freeing your hands (which immediately find stability in the firmness of his shoulders) to clumsily wipe the tears from under one dazed eye. Above you, he resembles a hungry, lustful angel, eyes darkened with unbridled need, affection, approval.

“‘M’good to what’s mine, baby,” he whispers, pulling you into the crook of his neck as he chases both your highs. “Come, cariño—s’right, come for me.”

And you do, aching, ruined cunt squeezing and releasing, fluttering around Javi. He moans a downright sinful ‘fuck’ at the sensation, reaching his own peak almost in tandem with yours.

Only once his every last drop is spent, once his groan and your whines have stopped echoing around the unfamiliar, open space, does he pull back from your neck.

And when he looks at you… God. There’s something you’re both not saying.

“Only wanna see you cry like this, baby,” he tells you, laying a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Never gonna let them—let anyone—lay a finger on you again.”

Your breath hitches, the words thick and sticky in your throat. The both of you are dazed, breathless, and completely wrecked. “I’m… I’m glad we met. That you—that we’re doing this.”

He raises his eyebrows, crooning a soft ‘yeah?’ as he pushes your hair from your face.

You nod. “You make all of it worth it.”

He’s appreciative when leaning in for a kiss, slipping out of you and groaning against your lips. You tangle your fingers in his damp hair, leaning up into him with every aching muscle in your body, wanting nothing more than to become a part of his whole. When he pulls away, it's only to tuck his softening length back into his briefs. He focusses on you again, leaning over to affectionately stroke your knee.

“Is it just sex for you?”

His question comes as a bit of a surprise—you’d never heard him speak so openly, so innocent and vulnerable.

You cup his face. Despite the fact that he looks like the men from earlier, carries the same guns and ammo, knows what they know, even speaks their language, he’s never seemed so separate from them, an entirely different species.

“No—at first, maybe, but now… No. Not for me.”

He eases into a soft smile, wrapping you back into your blanket before laying back, manhandling you to rest against his still-unsteady chest.

Those masterful hands comfort you in a million different ways. He plays with your hair and traces the highest points of your cheekbone. He massages your knuckles, pulls you in for little kisses, dips into the curve of your waist.

“How about you?” The question is small, even though you anticipate the answer.

He takes a second before answering. When he does, his voice is low, quiet.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He tilts your head up, his soft, caring gaze probing into every corner of your own. “Honestly, I think it’s been more than that since the first time you said ‘go fuck yourself, Peña.’” He whistles under his breath, exaggerating his approval. “Shit was hot.”

It makes you laugh, but it's also enough to make your heart soar. Settling in to the nook of his neck, you breathe in his familiar, earthly scent, until the exhaustion of the day eventually weighs on you.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, entertained by the fact that while you really should be a wreck, you feel perfectly at ease, wrapped in the arms of your favourite DEA agent. In fact, you can hardly remember what your kidnappers looked like—or sounded like, for that matter—succumbing to slumber, you only think of him.

—

Less than three hectic, hazy days later, you’re pulling a suitcase through the Medellín international airport. There was no sense risking it anymore—you'd have to be transferred to the States until the assholes were caught. Ambassador's orders.

Javi flanks your side, eyes peeled for any abnormalities in your surroundings.

Your heart breaks with every step you take. He comes all the way to the gate without saying a word, merely holding onto one of your bags (that he'd insisted he carry) in a white-knuckled fist.

You’re running behind. There’s not much time.

He doesn’t say he’ll call—knows he’s not that kind of man. You don’t say you’ll visit. You don’t say you’ll write.

No, all you do is lean up on your tippy toes to plant a tender, lingering kiss to his cheek. He returns the favour by cupping your face, leaning down and kissing you intently.

Too intently—as if he were memorizing the grooves in your lips.

Well, that’s what you’re doing, anyways.

Over the loudspeaker, your name is called.

“They’re paging you,” Javi translates, his breath hitting your top lip.

You pull away, doing your best not to cry.

“Thank you.”

It’s all you say—it’s all that needs to be said, really.

Thank you for showing me I matter. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for saving my life three times. Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for making me wait for it. Thank you for giving me a reason to miss this place.

Thank you for loving me. I think that's what this is.

He hears it all, stuffed and contained, overflowing from the two uttered words.

Then he smiles, that well-trained, protective cockiness spreading across his face.

“You’re welcome, cariño.”

You scoff a laugh, slowly dropping his hand and turning towards your gate.

“If I ever visit home…” he calls after you.

You pause, smiling down at the glistening floor, shaking your head. “You’ll never catch me in Texas, Peña,” you call across the traffic of rushing families and over-packed suitcases. He smiles knowingly, hands in his pockets, watching you leave. “Just lock the fuckers up so I can visit. The weather sucks back home.”

You slowly walk backwards towards the exit, ignoring a few flight-attendant-glares, not daring to break off the playful eye contact linking you to your agent.

“I’ll do it just for you, baby,” he calls, grinning like a fool.

Strange. You’d never noticed how the teasing, that snarky back and forth you’d developed together seemed to put him at ease—to relax him. All that time he'd spent, driving you to the brink of insanity... it comforted him.

And that realization was enough to make you beam.

You commit that final glimpse to memory. Javi—smiling, calm, alive, yours. It was rare enough that you felt sure it would stick.

When you finally turn to face the gate, to face your future, you don’t feel like crying anymore.

It was enough just to have met him.

Maybe—just maybe—he felt the same.

—

All my friends tell me I should move on

I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

Ahh

That's how you sang it

Loving you forever can't be wrong

Even though you're not here, won't move on

Ahh

That's how we played it

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

All my friends ask me why I stay strong

Tell 'em when you find true love, it lives on

Ahh

That's why I stay here

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

There's no relief, I see you in my sleep

And everybody's rushing me, but I can feel you touching me

There's no release, I feel you in my dreams

Telling me I'm fine

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

—

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xxblairexxss · 9 months

Text

Saving your bacon

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x medicstudent!reader

Theme : Light on angst, more heavy of fluff

Word count : 3.4k

I feel like something’s missing but I’m not sure what it is and I don’t wanna keep this in my draft so I’m just gonna drop and dip. Oh, and I wanted to switch up and play around with reader’s personality instead of sticking to one so this time around, reader is more (idk how to explain) but more bright????? And I also don’t want to write her as someone struggling with her studies just because I think I have seen the same plot a few times around so let’s just say she enjoyed doing what she did. I know you asked for more angry Charles but for some reason I found him more of a people pleaser so it’s hard to write him getting angry at the crowd. 😭

Warnings, inaccurate medical term and procedure, as usual.

Requested!

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Charles was catching up to his favourite series, all sluggish and slothful on his day off when he heard your footsteps and humming got closer and closer to which he immediately took a cushion near him and laid down, pretending to sleep.

“Oh?” Your little skip stopped when you reached the living room. You were so, completely sure he was awake because you sworn you heard him laughed at one of the jokes on the television a few minutes ago. Stepping closer, you saw the way his lashes slightly fluttered as he bit the inside of his lip, holding his smile from exposing his little trick. “You are not sleeping!” You called out and chortled, quickly placing your medical files on the tea table before diving into his embrace, making him groaned from the sudden impact. “I caught you!”

“You got the wind knocked out of me, baby.” He moved a little so you could settle down by his side. “What do you need me to do today?”

“How do you know I was gonna ask for your help?” You cackled in his arm at the way he looked completely unfazed with your requests by now.

“Because this isn’t the first time. I just knew how your steps would sound like if you needed my help.”

“Yeah? How does it sound like?” You sat up and his hand snaked its way under your shirt instantly.

“Can’t explain it in words. Lay down or sit up?”

“Lay down! Wait,” You took back your medical files and scanned through your notes. “Oh, wait! No, no! Sit up and turn that way.”

“That way?”

“Yeah! And close your eyes! I’ll be right back.”

Charles had his eyes shut, sitting up straight facing the balcony of his apartment while trying to catch up with the dialogs coming from the tv series he was watching. “No way! I missed the important scene, did– ouch!” He jolted to the front when something cold was pressed on his neck, sending shiver up to her head. “Babe, what was that?!”

“Ice pack! Sit back down!” You pulled him back and placed the ice pack back on what you imagine the pain would be.

“It’s cold! Can’t we just pretend to use an ice pack instead of– cold! Babe, it’s cold! Instead of using actual ice pack?” You held him by his shirt to stop him from moving away while you repetitively went back to scan through your notes.

“Stay still! I’m trying to get these right! Oh, I need to move it in circular motion and never let it sit for more than 20 minutes on the same spot.” You leaned against his back and giggled. “I nearly gave you frostbite!”

“Are we done yet, babe?” He tilted his head to the side to catch your eyes, while still obeying every instructions.

“Wait, let me do one last check on the C1 and C2 first.”

Charles had always been your some sort of medical dummy ever since you started your medical school residency. You would always come to him whenever you needed to revise some of the notes that you had written as you went through different types of medical or surgical problems. Thought it looked more like you were trying to disturb your boyfriend’s peace, it actually helped you a lot. And though it looked like your boyfriend was trying to hide and ran away whenever you needed his help, he was actually excited to be apart of your dummy, claiming to be his some sort of contribution to your career.

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“Oh, this is sour! Babe, give it a try.” His face was all wrinkled up as he tried to feed you the fruit to which you refused. “Try it.”

“I don’t like sour berries!”

“It’s good though.” He popped another one into his mouth and shivered when the sourness hit, causing you to laugh.

“Your face doesn’t seem like it. I think I picked the wrong batch, baby. We need to let it ripe a little longer.” You sprinkled some salt into the the pot before letting it stir. Charles was too busy chumbling on the berries to realise that you had been staring at him with your arms folded.

“So,” You spoke and he stopped chewing.

“Why? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, but let’s say you come in with your nose bleeding.” You moved closer, half leaning your body against his side with your head tilted up so you could admire his pretty face.

“Ah, so we are doing this?” He pushed the berries away and propped both hand on the kitchen counter. “Okay, let’s pretend my nose is bleeding. What’s next?”

“And I asked you how did your nose bleed. What would you say?”

“Babe, I’m completely lost with whatever topic or disease you are proposing right now.” He hummed, eyes wandered away to think of an answer. “I would say “How I would know, doctor. That’s your job to find out.””

“Charles!” You bursted out laughing and he chuckled along, casually left a soft pinch on your cheek.

“I don’t know, pretty. What should I say?”

“Let’s say you got into a mild accident a few hours ago but you refused to go to the hospital because you thought you were fine but then!” You dramatically gasped and Charles’s eyes widen in amusement. “Then you started feeling blockage in breathing. This is one of the symptoms for?”

His lips curved downwards as he shrugged. “I don’t know. Flu?”

“Wrong!”

“Dang it, that was my best shot. What is it then?”

You giggled and stood on your toes to kiss on his cheek. Charles would always try to answer your questions though he never got any of it right but you just found it adorable how he never gave up because he said he would get it right one day. “Septal hematoma! I need to drain it before it collapses your nasal bridge.”

“Really?! Wow, never knew that. How do you drain it?”

“You are gonna fall asleep before I even start explaining the first procedure. Oh, are we still going to the event tonight?”

“What event?” He raised his brow and his mouth went wide when he realised about it. He was talking about an event a few weeks ago and you decided to tag along. You were rarely seen attended any of his weekend events. Even more after you started your practical and though he never said anything about it, you still felt guilty about it, especially when you saw his pictures at any events that you didn’t attend, all alone while most of his friends would have their partners by their side.

He was a little dubious when you told him you wanted to attend his next event. He didn’t want to make it seems as if he was forcing you to do something that you didn’t want to because he knew both of you have different schedules and accountability as a student and an athlete, or public figure. You had to reassure him that it was something you wanted to do, not because you felt like he was forcing you in some sort of way. A fresh breath of air was the reason that you came up with, professing that you needed to get away from your cases this weekend.

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“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I’m all dressed up!” You clipped on your left earrings and gave a little twirl. You had chosen a satin dress with crisscross backless as it would be the perfect dress considering the event was more leaning towards an informal night out vibe. “Why?You don’t… want me to go?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, babe.” He held your hand, wrapping both of his and your arms on your waist as he turned you around, making you faced the mirror. “You are literally the most beautiful doctor I have ever seen.” He stared at your reflection admiringly, giving a soft smile when he locked his eyes with yours in the mirror and pecked on your neck.

“Nice try, handsome but I’m not a qualified one yet.”

“But you will be.”

“Not if I fail my residency.” You spun your body to face him, hands on his shoulders as you found yourself getting butterflies from seeing his face up close, even after all these years.

“Did you forget how many times you made me suffer with all those on hand practices? It’s impossible for you to fail.” He stole a kiss on your newly applied gloss and left the room before you could scream at him.

“Stop kissing me when I got my lip gloss on!”

“Can’t help myself. Come on, we gotta go.”

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“Is this normal?” You blinked as Charles made the final turn towards the entrance of the club. There were tons of people with cameras hung around their neck gathered in front of the building. They would congregate towards every cars regardless of who it was.

“No, not at all. It might have something to do with the other event that is happening at the casino, I think.” Charles saw you clasped your hands together on your lap and knew what you were feeling even when he didn’t see your face. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little surprised.”

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna leave you behind. Don’t let go of my hand okay?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and was going to unlock the door, when he stopped himself. “No, babe, hold on. Wait for me.” You retreated your hand from the shotgun door as he hopped off the car. Charles handed his car key to the valet staff who greeted him as he walked around to get to your side. You saw the flash went off, following your boyfriend all the way to your side. Though the front windscreen window was half tinted, you could still see how bright it was.

“Ready?” Charles leaned in, one hand gripped on the door seal and other arm at the end of his car roof to make sure you felt safe and had the people blocked before your could step out.

“Ready!”

He offered a hand, while keeping his other on still gripping of the weatherstrip so the door wouldn’t be opened too wide. “Don’t let go of my hand, okay?” He brushed his lips on your cheek before moving away so you could step out.

The first few interactions with the fans were fine. He was handed notebooks, caps, and shirts to be signed. Even a few selfies here and there. You were gripping on his jacket, a little uneasy when you heard a few men with cameras started shouting and scream. At first it sounded far, as if it came from the casino so it shouldn’t be a problem to you. Soon enough, the shouting went louder as if it was brought closer to you by a wave and the fans who were asking for Charles’s autographs and pictures began yelling out to stop the shove and push. Charles heard the commotion and intertwined his hand with yours before making his way to the building before it got any worse.

The flashes suddenly went off to your direction and you could barely see where you should placed your heels, your free hand immediately tried to shield your face. Even some of the fans from earlier started to get shoved around, some even used it as an opportunity to take closer pictures of both you and Charles.

“Charles..” You breathed out, feeling yourself getting pushed. You could feel the crowd getting closer as you tried go get out of the way. He didn’t reply but you could feel his grip on your hand getting more firm as he tried to step away from the crowd.

“Don’t push!”

“Give them space!”

You kept on hearing the words being shouted over and over amongst the crowd but you still felt all closed up with them getting closer and closer regardless of the orders. You let out a gasp when you lost your balance as the crowd started pushing one another, causing a few of them to accidentally inclined towards you.

He stopped and turned back, looking all worried. “You okay? Baby, here. Hold my arm.” You regained your composure and held, more like clinging on his arm while your other hand still fully secured in his. It felt like forever for you to pass your way through the throng, even with the help of the person in charged because none of them even bother to listen and kept on pushing one another towards you.

“Stop it!”

You heard another howl from one of the crowd when you stumbled back as few people were pushed in front of you, the impact caused your hand to slip away from Charles when you tried to move away from the pack of people, your arms were pressed on your chest while you swayed back and forth from constantly being pushed from every sides.

“Y/N– excuse me!” Charles tried to get back to you but he got pushed back by the crowd even more.

“I can’t– !” He heard you called out to him before your voice was swamped with voices amongst the number of people.

You tried to wrap your arms around your body, feeling as if you taking up the space was the reason why you felt suffocating and squeezed up but a sudden shove caused you to jerk forward. You tried stop your fall with your hand but the impact sent a jolt of pain on your wrist. The pain made you wince as you tried to retract your hand but it was stepped on over and over by the number of feet around you.

“Charles, here.”

He was pulled out from the crowd and was being assisted, more like dragged towards the entrance of the building before he stepped back. “I need to get back to my girlfriend.”

“Leave it to us.”

“No.” He sprinted back out and tried to scan amongst the crowd. It got a little under control now that they had enforced more people in charge though the pushing and shoving was still going on.

“Please let me pass..” It took you a while to get back on your feet and tried to squeeze your way out when a camera was thumped on your face, causing your head to tilt. You couldn’t see anything else other than constant flash and light. You started choking back tears and dabbed on your philtrum when it felt like something warm trickled down your nose.

You tried to move away, hand kept on wiping your philtrum as the blood was still leaking down your nose when you felt a firm grip on your arm, yanking you away and out from the crowd. Charles had saw you in the midst and just grabbed on whatever he could get. The grip was harder that he had wished for but he needed to get you somewhere safe, regardless whatever force he had to use.

Your face was forcefully crashed against something hard but you were too beat to repudiate that you continued to cry against the embrace. It was when the familiar scent hit you when you finally realised it was your boyfriend.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. I’m so, so, sorry.”

You refused to pull away, your whole body was aching but the stroke on your hair and the strong grip on your back made you feel safe, away from the furore. “I was– “ You sobbed. “I was so scared.”

He could feel you trembling in his hold, your head tried to look back to make sure you were really away from the people. “Y/N– Y/N, look at me. Baby, look at me. You’re okay. I got you. You’re okay.”

He leaned away but you could still feel his body latching against yours. “Fuck, you’re bleeding.” Holding your face in his hands, he started scanning through your pretty face. That was when he actually saw the bruise on your temple, your bloody nose and your flushed cheeks. When he caught you by your arm earlier, he was a little at eased as it felt like you weren’t harm but you were far from it. You kept on sobbing, your hand wiped on your tears that was threaten to fall from your chin. “Let’s go home, alright? I’m taking you home.”

Charles wrapped his arm on your waist as you leaned against him while he tried to get you to his just newly parked car.

“Y/N, a picture!” One of the paparazzi snatched on your sprained arm, causing you to shriek in pain.

“Hands off my girl.” He pushed the guy away, feeling so close to land a punch on that face but he had to hold himself from causing any scene that he knew would feed these people even more. Instead of placing his hand back to your waist, he lifted you up in his arms as you placed one arm across his neck, the sprained arm to your chest. He didn’t know you had any other injury because your hand was out of his sight the whole time.

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“Is your nose still bleeding?”

“I think so…” You dabbed the tissue that Charles had given to you when he got in the car and still found a fresh, wet blood stained.

“Keep on pinching your nose, alright?”

“Where did you learn how to treat nosebleed?” You tilted your head to the side and stared at your boyfriend in surprise.

“From my doctor girlfriend.” He gave your hair a stroke and pressed on the pedal as the light turned green.

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“Baby, stay there. I’m gonna get the first aid kit.” He left you and rummaged through the kitchen drawers. “Let’s treat your wrist first.”

You winced and pulled your arm away when he wanted to place it on his lap. “It hurts..” You didn’t think it was that bad but it still hurt. The tears started to fill your eyes again but you looked away so it wouldn’t roll down onto your already wet cheeks.

“Oh, was it too harsh? Sorry, baby.” He scooted closer and tried to place your hand on his lap more gentle this time. “Here. I’m gonna use– yeah, I’m gonna use the one with velcro.”

“Do you know how to do it?”

“Yeah, I have seen you did it to me before.”

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flash

Charles groaned a little when he heard you placed all sort of stuffs in front of him. “Babe, can I borrow your hand?” He heard you whispered as you sat cross legged on the floor.

“Right now, baby? Let me sleep 5 more minutes.”

“You can just keep on laying down.” You replied as you pull his hand from under his head. He was laying on his stomach on the couch before you disturbed his peace with the first add kid and your notes with you. “I just need your hand.” He is still in the same position, just his arm dangling from the end of the couch.

“Like this,” He heard you kept on murmuring, as if you were chanting something whilst he was trying to get back to sleep. “and this,” He peered at you first with a frown and soon after a smile formed on his lips. “around the thumb,” You were completely focused on wrapping his hand with the compression bandage, completely unaware and thinking he was still sound asleep. He would always find the little wrinkles in between your brows whenever you were too focused on some things made you look so adorable so instead of dozing back, he was gazing at you with fondness.

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“I thought you were asleep when I wrapped your hand!”

“I wasn’t. Your little mumble kept me awake.” He rolled the elastic compression bandage around your wrist one last time before securing it with the velcro. “There you go. Did I do I right?”

“Yeah!” You held your now fully wrapped wrist. “I think you did it better than me.”

Charles had left you again to get an ice pack and you leaned against the back pillows. You were expecting neon lights and loud music before you left the house, not coming back with bleeding nose, bruise, and a sprained wrist.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelm. Can we cuddle?” He then took a spot next to you, ice pack still in hand as as you leaned your head on his shoulder. His hand is on your back while you propped your legs on his laps.

“How did you get those bruise on your head?”

“One of the man accidentally hit me on the face but I don’t think it was on purpose.” You were playing with his necklace when dabbed the ice pack on your temple, causing you to move away. “It’s cold!”

“Oh, so now it’s cold? Was it warm when you dabbed it on my neck for no reason a few days ago?” He pulled you closer to dab the ice pack back on your bruise. “Baby, stay still!”

“I’m getting brain freeze! Stop it!” You giggled and pushed him away.

“You are overreacting! It’s not even 20 minutes yet.”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj

if your usernames were crossed meaning I can’t tag you 😭 let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist! or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

Text

Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k

Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content Warnings: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language, mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit), use of pet names + no y/n

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it��s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

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hyunnieshannie · 4 months

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Suspended | KSM

🖤: Seungmin x AFAB Reader 🖊️: 10k 🖼️: Check out the Mood Board! 🚨: Teacher AU, unprotected sex, use of sextoys, bdsm themes - rope play/impact play/blindfolds/handcuffs, choking, edging (so much edging i practically edged myself while writing the smut-K), cumming multiple times, pet names (angel/pup & sir), sexual harassment in the workplace, use of light system (reader uses: yellow), crying (from overwhelming amounts of pleasure *wink wonk*), corruption kink if you squint - methinks that's it, if we missed anything please let us know- If you think we proofread this, no we didn't - M ♡: I hope you all know this took us SEVEN MONTHS to write- WHY did it take us Seven months? WHO KNOWS?? But it did. LIKE LOOK AT THIS SCREENSHOT THAT WAS WHEN WE STARTED THIS. anyways We hope you enjoy our little teacher Seungmin one shot. Please Reblog and let us know what you thought <3

There's something both satisfying and annoying about teaching and shaping the young minds of the new generation. Sure, you’re someone who most kids look up to. You have the honor of making an impact on their lives. Maybe they'll remember you in the future, maybe not. Either way, you're ultimately the one who helped prepare them for life outside of these high school walls you teach within. As much as you revel in this fact now, high school was a place you never wanted to return to. Within the walls of the high school live rowdy, unhinged, chaotic minds mixed with a splash of calm, put-together minds; and that only explains the student body.

The staff on the other hand, well they’re on another level of unhinged and chaotic, though somehow put together enough to be able to contain themselves and careful to never unleash those thoughts on another member of staff- for obvious reasons. Sexual harassment claims, being fired over the smallest of flirting, let alone the fact that if anything escalated beyond such, you could expect the cops to parade you through the halls, with the curious eyes of the students all watching as you’re taken away. In any case, it was always best to stay away from any sort of relationship with a coworker. No matter what.

Students, on the other side of the spectrum, never hid their relationships. You couldn’t count how many times you’d found students making out against their hallway lockers, running off to do god-knows-what in the staircase at the back of the school- or worse, when you’d be called to explain why student A and student B are being suspended, after being caught having sex in the washroom. Unfortunately for you, today was one of those days.

The two students sitting directly in front of you seemed to show zero hint of remorse, for, quite literally, being caught in the act during the middle of second period. Could they really not wait until after classes? It wasn’t until both sets of parents had filed into the room that the students began to look embarrassed. “Welcome,” you sighed as you arose from your seat to shake the parents' hands. They were agitated, clearly disappointed and rightfully so. You didn’t get too graphic about the details of the suspension, as the printed notice would detail everything anyway. The parents read over everything carefully.

The father of student A scowled at his son. “I’m sorry for the actions of my son,” He muttered, as he ripped his son from the chair he sat on. “This is beyond unacceptable and we will make sure he has learned his lesson.” Their verbal assault launched as your student was dragged through the somewhat empty school and you just barely caught the words "embarrassment" and "disgrace" as their voices faded down the halls. Student B sat quietly as she watched her mother read through the printout. Signing her name and passing the flimsy sheet of paper to her daughter to sign, in acknowledgement for her wrongdoings, they spoke not a word, but the anger radiating from them was enough indication that she would receive a thorough talking once out of the eyes of the school's principal and yourself.

It was, undoubtedly, one of the longest days of the year. Not that there was any reasonable explanation, such as a time change or anything. No- it was simply just a day full of students who had decided that this particular day would be the best to ‘act up’. You often wondered why students who were caught by you seemed to think they would magically get away with their actions. Why your students lacked basic respect for you until the moment you smacked down the hammer, clearly marking the line between friendship and an authority figure. Sure, you’re one of the younger teachers in the school, but none of the others seemed to have this issue with their students. Hell, even the two students from just now thought they were merely getting a slap on the wrist for their actions- never expecting you to follow through with your threat of calling their parents in. Did they truly not expect you to do so? Could they really have thought you’d just speak to them, and tell them a small ‘Don’t do it again’?

As you meandered through the empty halls of the school, you wondered why you had even taken up this job. You had barely finished your degree and mostly hoped to be working with children of elementary age. Children, though energetic and clumsy, still seemed like less work than a class full of twenty-eight, moody teenagers all in the age range of fifteen to sixteen. Somehow an elementary school still seemed like it would have more order than this mess of a high school. You know the curriculum, you’re a good teacher- Credit where credit is due, and surely you deserved it. When your students did in fact listen- instead of making snarky remarks about you that they thought you wouldn’t hear- they would pass tests and exams with flying colors. So what was it you were doing oh-so-wrong to deserve passing comments such as ‘Can I get your number?’ or the boy's new favorite ‘Mommy? Sorry. Mommy?’

The moment you reached the faculty room, you threw yourself on the couch face first, thinking you were completely alone as you’d seen no one when you walked in, you let out the loudest scream your lungs could manage into one of the throw pillows. “WHY” you wailed, allowing the pillow to muffle your desperate cries for answers.

“Rough day?” a voice says with a light chuckle. Slowly you lift your head to see another staff member standing alone by the coffee maker. You drop your head in embarrassment as you have now learned, you were indeed not alone when you let out that blood-curdling scream. “Miss. Y/L/N. Are you alright?” He said as he approached you. Leave it to one bad day, for you to not be fully aware of your surroundings and to let out such a scream in front of the ‘most perfect’ teacher this school has ever had. He’s a very intelligent man, there has never been a problem that he couldn’t fix. He’s polite, well-spoken and could practically substitute for any teacher in the school. He had a teaching degree, as well as a few others that he had picked up ‘for fun’. Not only was he all of that and more, but of course he also happened to be around your age, perfect. He made everyone else, including senior staff, look like they had done nothing productive with themselves. You let out a soft laugh into the pillow, as the realization that he had caught you in a mental war finally began to sink in.

“Mr. Kim,” you say as you hastily sit up to save what little pride you had left. To be laying on the couch would be one thing- but the way you were planted with your head buried in a pillow was another. How embarrassing. “What are you still doing here? It’s well past school hours.” He smirks as he lifts his coffee cup in the air as if to say ‘Cheers’

“Had a few tests to grade,” he chuckles, bringing his mug to his lips and taking a sip of the steaming coffee. Your gaze settles on his hands wrapped around the mug, the mug looking small in his hands. You watch as he sips on the liquid and swallows it, making his Adam's apple bob up and down again. God, he’s stupidly beautiful. “And how about yourself Miss. Y/L/N, what are you doing here well past school hours?” He repeats the words back to you, raising a brow in a teasing manner.

“Caught two students again,” you sigh, “I can’t even think of one good reason for them to be doing such things in the washroom, during school hours much less.” You slump further into the couch, rubbing your temples in annoyance.

“You tend to draw the short straw every time huh?” Seungmin chuckles as he sips some more of his coffee. He keeps his eyes trained on you as you close your eyes, rubbing your head. He smirks to himself as he approaches you cautiously.

“Unfortunately.” You groan, rubbing your hands over your face and leaning forward, elbows resting on your knees.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He pulls a chair up as he gets closer, swiftly shifting the chair so he can sit on it backwards, taking another sip of his damn coffee. Fuck, the bare minimum and its too motherfucking sexy.

“Don’t you have papers to grade?” You eye him unsure if you really want to waste his time complaining if he has more important things to do. You’re also not entirely sure you want to talk about the whole thing anyway.

“They can wait, you on the other hand look stressed.”

“I don’t know Mr. Kim, I think it’s a bit beyond stress if you ask me.” You sigh again. “I think- I’m just tired and frustrated?”

“Tired and frustrated, heavy combination.” he nods in understanding. “I feel as if catching students in the act isn’t what’s making you so tired and confused though.”

“No, I mean yes- but not really.” You admit and Seungmin gives you a questioning look. You again sigh, “It’s the disrespect I receive, Mr. Kim. It’s overwhelming, and to be quite frank - annoying.”

“I mean yes, doing such a thing on school grounds is disrespectful, but I wouldn’t take it personally Miss. Y/L/N.” Seungmin says as he takes another sip from his mug.

“I don’t take that kind of thing personally Mr. Kim,” you laugh lightly. “I am genuinely constantly disrespected by my students, your students - at some points it feels like it’s the whole school.” You sigh in defeat. Seungmin is now sitting up straighter, he’s got a look of surprise. He seems genuinely confused at your statement.

“How have they been disrespecting you?” He asks in concern. He desperately needs to know what the fuck the students have been saying about you. “Have they said something to you? Done something? Anything my students have done Miss. Y/L/N, I must know in order to speak to them accordingly.” You let out a light chuckle, shaking your head, and resting your chin on your palms.

“Where do I start Mr. Kim? Would you like the comments on my body or should I tell you which students have attempted at grabbing my-” You stop yourself before finishing that thought, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. “In all honesty Mr. Kim, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. Perhaps after this year, I’ll resign.” At this point, you are so done with this school and you are so ready to quit and leave this school, it isn't doing your mental health any justice. As you are contemplating your future, Seungmin is reeling, he doesn't understand how his students have been saying such horrible things to you.

“You can’t resign Y/N-” Seungmin says quickly, almost jumping out of his chair. He shocks himself from his sudden outburst, clearing his throat and smoothing his tie. Why would he drop the niceties? “I mean-” He runs his hand through his hair. “Miss. Y/L/N, the school would suffer a great loss if you were to resign.”

“How do you figure Mr. Kim?” you give him a questioning look. You truthfully thought that no one would really miss you, so why is he so adamant that you stay?

“Well, for one your students tend to have the highest grades in the school, which is no easy task.” He looks around the room as if to find the answer to your question written on the walls. “And from what I have always seen, all of our students absolutely adore you. The staff loves you, and I’m sure you’re on track for a few awards this year as well.”

“You flatter me, but is it worth the verbal harassment from the students?”

“You never told me what they’d been saying,” Seungmin mumbles through the pout of his lips. Fuck, I’m not strong enough for this.

“The comments are different every day, from asking me on dates to calling me” you gesture air quotes, “Mommy. In the middle of class.” Seungmin’s jaw basically drops to the floor in complete shock.

“Have-” he says cautiously as he picks his jaw up off the floor. “Have any of my boys said these things? If they have, I’d like names Y/N. Truthfully I’d like the names of all the boys who’ve made such inappropriate comments. ” He says sweetly but his jaw is set in anger, you can tell by the vein that is pulsing on his neck.

“Mr. Kim-”

“Please, call me Seungmin. I don’t see why we insist on speaking to each other as if we were students.” He smiles kindly at you.

“Seungmin.” Fuck, his name is so pretty. “It would be easier to list off the names of those who do not make such comments.” Seungmin looks immensely disgusted.

~~~~~

Since the evening you spent speaking to Seungmin, he had begun loitering in your hallway. In the mornings, as students raced to get to class on time he would stand at your classroom door next to you, greeting students as they came in. During the lunch period, he would make his way into your classroom, and insist on spending the time with you- and if he had any sort of free period, he would keep a close watch on your class- well out of both you and the student's sight.

He wanted to see with his own eyes, his students acting out. He wanted to be able to hear the disgusting comments himself. He thought surely it wouldn’t happen every day, right? Wrong. On the first day, he had heard the alleged Mommy comment at least four times. On the second day, he watched as a student attempted to smack your ass, only for you to turn around instantly and scold him yourself before sending him to class right after.

Disgusted, was an understatement. Seungmin was livid. How could the students be this sick? He wondered. He would not allow this to continue. On the third day, he had finally had enough. After hearing passing comments about you in his own classroom, he’d immediately excused himself and marched his way down to the principal's office.

“Sir,” Seungmin says as he enters the principal’s office. He’s fuming, barely holding himself together.

“Mr. Kim, how can I help you?” The principal asks from his chair, motioning for Seungmin to enter the room.

“It seems we have an issue.”

“Regarding?”

“Miss. Y/L/N, and our students,” Seungmin announces, expecting the principal to be concerned, however, that wasn’t really the case.

“Ahh, Miss. Y/L/N again?” The principal tuts. Seungmin is shocked. Again? What does that mean? Has she already brought up the issue?

“Ah, so you’ve heard-” Seungmin sighs calmly, and the principal nods. “To be absolutely truthful with you sir, this sort of behavior is absolutely-” The principal cuts him off before he finishes.

“I don’t see why she’s so dramatic, I’ll have to have another talk with her.” The principal announces, picking up his office phone to get a hold of you.

“I’m sorry sir?” Seungmin asks, confused. Why would he have a talk with you?

“I don’t see why a woman like her would wear such clothes and later complain about boys being boys.” The principal sighs in annoyance. “I mean one look at her and any man would want a piece.” Seungmin wraps his hands in a tight fist at his side. He really wishes he didn't walk into this room.

“Sir, that is wildly inappropriate to say about a member of staff.” Seungmin seethes. This is not how a supervisor should be treating a subordinate, this isn't how you should treat another human being, especially one that is trying to do her job. How can someone have the audacity to say that openly? “She is-”

“A woman, Mr. Kim. She is a woman, and women, especially women like her, should dress according to their bodies. Wearing such tight clothing around boys who are barely getting their hormones in check is just asking for-”

“She wears dress pants, sir? She is always professional in her clothing. I don’t see how this constitutes harassment.” The principal attempts to interrupt but Seungmin continues. “To say a woman is ‘asking’ for sexual harassment from students, or men in general for what they wear is absurd. It is her body, she may do with it as she pleases so as long as it is school appropriate. She is not asking for anything but the bare minimum!” The principal rolls his eyes at Seungmin’s statement. “She deserves the respect any of the other teachers receive!”

“Well, she isn’t like the other teachers now is she?”

“What does that mean sir.” He fists his hands even tighter if that was even humanly possible.

“She’s different- she’s more of a looker. Please, Mr. Kim, don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. The entirety of the faculty knows you’ve had the same thoughts as the rest of us.” Seungmin can feel his blood boiling, if he could, he would launch himself at the principal and punch him out for the shit that was coming out of his mouth. The principal admitted to thinking of you grossly and has now accused him of the same. Sure, he had thought you beautiful, intelligent, and funny but to mentally undress you was something he never did. No. He respected you far too much for that.

“I do not appreciate you painting me as a predator.” Seungmin grits his teeth, tightening his jaw.

“Seungmin, go back to your class. There are more important things to deal with.” The principal waves him off in annoyance. “I should have gotten rid of that woman after the third time she brought this issue up, if it was so bad she would have changed her appearance.”

“Her looks should never have been a problem in the first place!” Seungmin yells at the steaming pile of shit in front of him. “How dare you speak about her as if she was nothing more than some sort of-” he struggles to find the right word. “Doll!”

“Mr. Kim.” the principal warns in annoyance.

“She is much more than that! An intelligent woman who has put up with this for far too long! If you do not wish to punish the students for their actions sir, I will have no choice but to email the board.” Seungmin glares at the principal. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

“I will be putting you on suspension, Mr. Kim. Think about what you really want to do here. Go. I’ll have someone cover your class. Get out of my sight.” Seungmin leaves the office in a huff, walking aggressively back as he internally thinks about how he will absolutely fuck that mans career. He walks past your class and you notice that he's pissed, you race out to see him.

“Mr. Kim!” Seungmin stops in his tracks and looks at you. You let the door close to your classroom behind you to have a more private conversation with him. His attitude changed when he saw you but he was still tense. You notice his knuckles are white, his hands tightly fisted at his sides. “Will I see you for lunch again?”

“No.” He says angrily. He never misses lunch with you. Why is this time different? What made him so angry?

“Are you alright Mr. Kim?” You ask cautiously. He looks around the hallway and sighs.

“Miss. Y/L/N, it seems in attempting to do what was right, I have been suspended. My apologies, but I will not be staying for lunch.”

“Suspended?! For what?!” You yelp in shock. Seungmin is the most perfect teacher at this school, how in the world did he get suspended?

“It seems harassment in this school goes unpunished.” You look at him confused. What the hell is he talking about? “I will also be considering my position here. Perhaps I will join you in resigning.” You’re stupidly confused. What brought all of this up? Did he say something about the harassment you faced daily? You should have warned him that you brought this issue up to the principal in the past only to be ignored every single time.

“Mr. Kim, I’m- I’m so sorry. I should have told you not to bring it up-” you stutter as you’re finding it increasingly difficult to look him in the eyes for feeling guilty that your problem had caused him to be suspended. He shouldn't be suspended.

“Y/N.” Seungmin sighs and softly brushes his hand against yours to gain your attention again. “It’s not your fault that the people who are supposed to stand by your side haven’t. My suspension only opened my eyes to the massive flaw we have within the school. I intend to either fix it or remove myself from the equation.” Seungmin bows to you lightly and walks away, thinking about every way he could get the principal fired. He would have to email the school board. You stand in the hallway completely flabbergasted by what just happened. The bell rings stealing your attention from him, as you turn back to call for him, he’s gone.

➽──────────────❥

You hear a knock at your door. You quickly run into your bathroom to make sure you look presentable after slaving over dinner prep. You run to the door and open it quickly. Seungmin is standing there dressed casually, not in his usual slacks and button-downs, with a bottle of wine in his hand. You beam a smile at him. “Welcome!” You motion for him to enter your home.

“Thank you,” he smiles back. The atmosphere in the apartment is so heavy with awkwardness. He looks down at his hands and realizes he still has the bottle of wine in his hands. “Oh, I- uh, brought this for you- I mean us,” he says as he holds the bottle out for you. You take it with a small thank you and make your way to the kitchen. This is the first time the two of you have hung out outside of work so it’s bound to be a little awkward… right? You can't help but sneak glances at him. He looks handsome even in mundane clothes. He stares at all the food you prepared in awe, “Seriously, you didn’t have to do all of this?”

“I felt like it,” you chuckle lightly. You’re incredibly nervous for him to taste your food. You very rarely cook for anyone and especially since it’s him you kind of went a little overboard. “Anyways, sit or-”

“Where’s your corkscrew?” He asks politely as he makes his way into your kitchen. “I find a bit of wine is always a welcomed relaxant.” You laugh and point to the drawer. You take out a few wine glasses while he struggles to pull the cork out of the bottle, making the both of you laugh, and breaking some of the unnecessary tension. You both sit down to enjoy the meal and the wine, the conversations flowing smoothly.

“Oh please Mr. Kim-” you laugh, your cheeks tinted pink from drinking so much. Seungmin’s mind is reeling, he thinks you’re absolutely adorable, but in a corruptible way. Wait, did I just think that? Do I want to corrupt her?? No… I’d be no better than those fuckers at school… but she looks so pretty right now, her eyes glossed over, cheeks pink… fuck.

“I told you, call me Seungmin, we’re not in school,” he chuckles lightly, helping you out of the chair at the table and taking your hand to lead you to the couch.

“Sorry, old habits,” you frown. “I’m sorry you got suspended… because of me.” You sniffle a little as you finish your sentence. He was the only person who treated you decently at that hell hole, of course, you’re upset he's gone. And he’s also the only eye candy at that school and you can no longer ogle over him from down the hall.

“Hey, I told you, I got suspended because I couldn't keep my mouth shut about what was going on at the school. It was in no way your fault.” He said softly as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, wiping away a single tear that ran down your cheek.

“I just feel like I didn’t do enough to make it up to you,” you say softly as you play with the hem of his shirt. He watches your hands carefully, studying the curve of your fingers, wondering what they’d feel wrapped around his- no- stop. Don’t think like that… Seungmin quickly shakes the thought out of his head, but he couldn’t help but admire you. So sweet, so sickeningly innocent. The way you look up at him with those eyes, like a siren beckoning him to kiss you, god how badly he wanted to kiss you, touch you, make you, his- only his.

He shouldn’t be thinking these things, he shouldn’t want you as badly as he does but as he looks at you- shying away from him all he can think about is how he could ruin that innocence you seem to unknowingly have, he wants to hear the sinful noises he just knows you’d be capable of making at his command. Fuck- oh fuck, the ways he could ruin you. I really am no better than the rest of them…

“Well, there is something that we could do to make it up to both of us,” he said carefully, tracing his fingers over your knuckles, a shiver running down your spine.

“What do you have to make up for?” you ask softly, looking at his eyes for the first time since you sat on the couch. His pupils have blown out, a slight blush to his cheeks, his ears red.

“For the thoughts, I’ve been having all night,” he admits, ghosting his fingers further up your forearm, tracing over every blemish on your skin.

“O-oh? What k-kind of thoughts?” you ask shyly as another shiver runs down your spine from his gentle touches.

“I’ve been thinking about how much I want to corrupt you, how I want to wrap you up in a bow like a fucking Christmas present begging to be opened, how I want to see you writhe beneath me as I fuck you hard and rough until you’re screaming my name.”

You moan at his words as he rests his hands on your thighs, gripping them tightly in his hands. “What… what’s been stopping you?” You close your eyes as he massages your thighs, slowly running his fingers up under the hem of your skirt.

“I…” Seungmin pauses as he slowly removes his hands from your legs, suddenly feeling guilty at his actions. “I don’t want you to think I’m just another sleazy guy.” You immediately shake your head vigorously.

“I don’t think you're sleazy. At all.” You say, shocked at the confidence in your voice. “I… you’re the only person that has stood up for me… cared about me.” You trace your fingers over his knuckles. “And…” you’re not sure if it was the atmosphere or the alcohol that gave you the confidence but you blurted out without even a second thought, “I also think you’re incredibly handsome, Seungmin.”

Without a second further, Seungmin lunges forward and crashes his lips to yours in a hot, wet, steamy kiss. He licks into your mouth and quickly dominates the kiss, guiding you to match his rhythm. His hands glide further up your legs, under your skirt again and his fingers brush along the gusset of your panties.

“Already so wet for me, angel?”

You whine into his mouth and grip the hem of his shirt tighter, trying to pull him closer to you. He wraps his hands around your wrists and yanks them away from him as he smirks into the kiss.

“When did I say you could touch, angel?” He asks darkly, his tone firm, demanding. He held your hands down to your sides as he peppered kisses along your jaw. “Be a good girl and stay still for me.” You felt your body shiver and a high whine escaped your lips. You wiggled slightly, the need between your legs growing to be unbearable.

“Stop moving or I’m going to have to tie you down, angel.” Seungmin teases but pauses at the immediate blush that flashed across your cheeks. “Oh, you like that don’t you.” Seungmin chuckles as he bites at your chin. “I don’t have anything to tie you up, angel, maybe next time.”

You squirm underneath him, desperate to get his attention since your words seemed to have been caught in your throat. “S-Seung-”

He stops sucking on your neck to allow you some space. “What is it, angel? Are you ok?” He looks so concerned as he looks over your face for any discomfort.

“‘M ok.” You say breathlessly. “H-have rope.” Seungmin stops and stares down at you, his eyes darkening.

“Oh, my naughty, naughty girl. You have rope? Who’s tied you up before, angel? Hmm? Tell me.” Seungmin seethes as he grips your wrists tighter, feeling incredibly possessive over you all of a sudden.

“N-no one. I s-swear. N-never tried it.” You begin to cry, not wanting him to run away from you, disgusted by your desires. Seungmin lets go of your wrists to wipe away your tears, kissing your cheeks and then your nose.

“Ok, angel. I believe you, don’t cry just yet.” Seungmin runs his hands down your cheek, down the column of your neck, through the valley between your breasts, across your stomach, and ghosting his fingertips across the hem of your skirt. “Why don’t we take this to your bedroom then so we can use that rope of yours.” He holds his hand out to help you up off the couch. You take his hand and rush toward your bedroom and close the door behind both of you. You go to your bedside and pull out a box from under your bed.

“I know it’s cliche to have a box of toys under the bed, please don’t judge me.” You say shyly as you stay knelt on the ground with the closed box in front of you. Seungmin slowly walks up to you and runs his fingers through your hair as you lean into his touch.

“So obedient,” Seungmin chuckles. He leans down and opens the lid to the box and inspects the toys inside. “Which one’s are your favorite?” He looks at you when you don’t respond and he chuckles lightly again. “You have permission to speak, angel.”

You point to a black bullet vibrator that sat atop all of the other items in the box and a clear silicone dildo sat right next to it. “These two,” you whisper quietly.

Seungmin huffs and takes the two toys out and tosses them on the floor next to you and continues to examine the other toys in the box. There's a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold, rope, a thick veiny long lifelike dildo, and a curved vibrator - the type that has internal and external stimuli. “Have you ever used any of these?”

You shake your head no.

“I want you to speak when I ask you a question,” Seungmin says in a demanding tone, making a shiver run down your spine.

“N-no, I haven’t used them.” You respond shyly, keeping your eyes focused on your hands folded in your lap.

“No, what?” Seungmin says as he lifts your head up with his fingers pressed under your chin. “What do you call me, angel? You get to decide.”

“N-no, I haven’t u-used them, sir.” You say as a blush creeps across your cheeks and you feel more wet between your folds. You see Seungmin shiver when the title rolls off your tongue, but he still keeps his cool.

“Why haven’t you used them? You bought them, you should use them, no?” Seungmin says as he begins removing each item from the box and placing them carefully in between the two of you.

“I-I never had the opportunity, sir.” You say as you look away from him. He tuts and guides you to look at him again. He’s giving you a knowing look like he knows that’s not the entire truth. Fuck, was I always this easy to read? “I-I’m scared, sir.” You say quietly, the confession making you feel more shy than you already were. You’ve never shown anyone your treasure chest before and the fact that you were showing Mr. Kim, the man you’ve had a crush on for AGES, was fucking with your brain more than you would’ve liked. You wanted to do anything, everything he asked. Wanted to be good for him. Wanted to show him that you’d do whatever he wanted. Seungmin’s gaze softens and he brushes his fingers across your cheek, you lean into the touch, desperate to feel his warmth again.

“You’re scared of the toys? Hmm, my poor angel isn’t very heavenly if she has all of these naughty toys, right?” Seungmin asks and he sees the panic flicker in your eyes. “Shh, angel it’s ok. I like your naughty desires, but it makes me want to corrupt you even more. Would you like that? Can I teach you?”

You nod your head excitedly. “Yes, yes. Want you to teach me. Show me, sir.”

Seungmin shivers in excitement. He pets your cheek gently. “Anything for you my angel. Get on the bed on your knees for me.”

You do as he says and place yourself at the center of the bed, carefully tucking your knees beneath you and placing your hands in your lap, awaiting his instructions. He smiles when you’re settled and stands at the end of the bed, looking over your body as if you were a piece of art in a museum.

“Such an obedient little thing aren’t you.” Seungmin praises, you feel a satisfied shiver run down your spine. “Now, I want you to be a good girl and take your clothes off for me, and when you’re done, get back into that position. Understood, pup?”

“Y-yes sir.” You carefully remove your shirt, trying your best to make your movements as sexy as possible. You lean back and remove your skirt and panties, tossing them onto the floor next to your discarded shirt. You prop yourself back up on your knees and slowly reach back to unclasp your bra, suddenly feeling all too shy to be so naked in front of him. Seungmin walks to the side of the bed and sits down beside you when he notices your hesitation. He carefully tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He runs his fingers down your cheek to your chin and tilts your head towards him.

“You don’t need to be shy, pup. You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, his fingers running up and down your arm. “Let me see all of you.”

You nod your head, unclasp your bra, and let it drop to your lap. Seungmin picks it up and tosses it over his shoulder as he stares at you. He looks you up and down, briefly licking his lips when his gaze locks on your lips. He gets up from beside you and stands at the foot of the bed again right in front of your box of goodies.

“What shall we do first pup?” Seungmin looks down at the box and a small smirk dances across his lips. He pulls out the silky black blindfold, “Shall we start with this?”

He walks over to the side of the bed again and places his hands on your shoulder, lightly pushing you down so you’d lay flat on the bed. He pushes the hair out of your face and places the silky material over your eyes. “I’m gonna need you to tell me if you ever feel uncomfortable, ok pup? You know the stop light system?”

“Y-yes sir,” you mumble breathlessly. The removal of sight has already heightened your other senses. His voice was caramel sweet to your ears and you wanted.. no.. needed more.

“Good girl.” You feel the bed lift beside you as Seungmin begins to walk away from you. “Stay just like that.” You hear him moving around the room and the rustling of the items in your box until you hear him gasp. “Ohh fuck.” You hear him whisper probably to himself so you stay silent. “You really are a pup aren’t you?” You hear a chain clanging against itself as seungmin removes whatever it is from the box. “Sit up.” Seungmins words are commanding and you obey immediately. You listen as the chain and inevitably Seungmin approaches you again. He grabs your jaw and leans in close to your ear. “I can’t wait to see you in this pup. And I swear to god, if you disobey me I will not go easy on you. You’ve been such a good pet so far, let’s not make it go to waste huh?” You shudder and nod as best as you could within his grasp.

“Y-yes sir, I’ll be a good pup, I swear.” You want to please him, you want him to praise you again and call you a good girl. You wanna be so so so good for him.

He chuckles in your ear and he moves his hand down from your chin and rests it around your throat. You keen at the motion and lean into his hand, wanting so desperately for him to squeeze. “Oh, it’s a good thing you like things wrapped around your neck pup.” Seungmin teases as he tightens and loosens his hold on your neck in quick succession. You whine and buck your hips up at nothing, the need between your legs starting to become unbearable.

Seungmin removes his hand from your throat and you let out a desperate whine. “Shh, pup, be patient.” You suddenly feel cold, rough material tightening around your neck. Seungmins face is so close to yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek. You want to turn your head and kiss him but you want to be good. Need to be good. So you stay still and wait for his instructions. Once he latches the material together you feel the cold metal chain drape across your chest and down the valley of your breasts. “Go ahead, pup, feel it.” You reach up to your neck and feel at the material that was placed around your throat and you gasp at the realization. The studded collar you bought a few months ago, was now sat prettily around your neck, the leash dangling down the front of your body.

“Oh,” you whisper breathlessly as you run your fingers up and down the cold metal leash. You suddenly feel incredibly self conscious. You’ve never been in a position like this with any of your previous partners, most of them finding your desires to be too much. Your breath hitches as you sit in the silence. You can’t tell if Seungmin moved away from you or where he may be. Does he also find you undesirable? Is he disgusted by your wants? You drop your hands to the bed and feel around for him. “S-seungmin..” you whine as you’re worriedly searching for him. You start breathing heavier as you’re stressing over not being able to see him, hear him, or feel him.

You feel warm hands wrap around yours. “Hey, I’m right here pup.” You whimper as he places a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Do you want me to take the blindfold off?”

“No!” You reply a little too quickly. You shake your head. “N-no, I wanna keep it on… a-at least for a little while.”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek again. “Ok, pup. For a little while.” He begins to pull his hand away from you but you quickly chase after it and pull him back to you. “Pup.” Seungmin sits beside you on the bed and lifts the blindfold off from your eyes. “Look at me,” he says in a soft but demanding tone. Your eyes take a minute to adjust to the light but you look directly in front of you and see Seungmin sitting inches from you, his face a whisper away from yours. He looks at your eyes and it feels like he’s searching for something in them. “Listen to me pup. You’ve been so good so far, such a good girl. I’m gonna make you feel so good, but I need you to trust me.” He gently runs his finger across your cheek. “I’m not gonna leave you. I’ll be right here and if you want me to stop at any time just say ‘red’ and I’ll stop immediately.” His gaze softens as he notices the slight quiver in your lips. “You really are new to this aren’t you pup?”

You nod your head. Seungmin carefully watches you as you open and close your mouth, trying to find the words you want to say. “Y-yes. Wanted to try, b-but no one…” you trail off as you feel his fingers intertwined with yours. “No one’s wanted to d-do this with me.”

Seungmins gaze darkens slightly and he looks away from you, his jaw firmly set. You reach your hand up and guide him to look at you again.

“Please teach me.” You whisper as you touch your forehead against his. “I trust you Seungmin,” you say in a featherlight voice, closing your eyes and bringing the blindfold back over your eyes.

Seungmin is perfectly still as he watches you in awe. His precious pup is gaining some confidence, you saying you trust him, you wanting him to teach you. He’s not sure he’s ready for it himself. He feels the tent in his pants tightening. “Of course I’ll teach you pup,” you feel the bed lift from in front of you and feel a searing smack against your ass. You whimper at the pain, feeling a hand smoothing over the red mark that was most definitely left behind. “Firstly, you called me the wrong name, pup, and for that, you need to be punished.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” You say breathless as Seungmin nips at your neck.

“You better hope it doesn’t.” There’s another slap on your ass. “I want you to count, pup. Starting now.” He lands another smack and you start counting in your head. Seungmin yanks you by your hair and forces you to lean against his chest, his voice seething and close to your ear. “Out loud pup.”

“O-one.” You say with a shaky breath.

“Good girl.” Seungmin praises as he pushes you back down on your hands and knees. You keen at the praise and you push your ass backwards awaiting the next round of slaps.

You count out loud for each slap across your ass. “Eighteen.” Slap. “N-nineteen.” Slap. “Twenty.” Seungmin rubs soothing circles on your ass as the sting subsides.

“Well done pup. You did a good job.” Seungmin guides you to lay down on your back. He gives you a few gentle pecks on your lips as he runs his fingers across your tummy. “I’m gonna tie you up, okay pup? Can you tell me your color?”

“Green, sir. P-please keep going.” You say as you try to reach for his hands. Seungmin chuckles and kisses your knuckles.

“Ok pup, I’ll keep going.” Seungmin kisses your forehead and walks towards the end of the bed. You hear him rummaging through the box and he slowly approaches you again. “Lift your hands.”

You slowly lift your hands up and Seungmin places the toy in your hands. You wrap your fingers around the material and feel the coarse threads of the rope you had inside your box. “Can you tell me what it is, pup?”

“Rope, sir.” You say as you run your fingers over the rope. You know the rope is a deep crimson, a color you thought would look stunning against your skin. You were so nervous to proceed, but you wanted to trust Seungmin. He’d take care of you.

“That's very good. Very good girl.” Seungmin praises and takes the rope from your hands and helps you sit up. “Listen to me carefully. I am going to tie you up. The rope is going to be nice and tight around your skin. It’ll feel good, but if it's too tight or you're having a hard time breathing or you're nervous, you tell me immediately and I’ll cut you free. Do you understand?”

You smiled towards the direction of his face and nodded lightly. “I understand, sir.” You feel him run the rough material over your skin. You shudder at the feeling, goosebumps rising over your arms as the rope is wrapped around your body. Seungmin tightens the rope every so often around your chest, your hips, your thighs. You feel the wetness pooling between your legs as he continues slowly. He traces your skin before the rope tracks over the same space. You suddenly feel incredibly overwhelmed by the intimacy of this type of play. Something you’ve never experienced before. Something you weren't prepared to feel. You noticed that Seungmin stopped his movements. “Pup.” Seungmin whispers, his lips grazing your shoulder as he places light kisses over the skin. He pulls your blindfold off and throws it off the bed. He’s looking at you with so much care in his eyes, but there's an underlying lust that he was holding back. “Don’t cry. Not yet.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying and you try to reach up to wipe the tears away quickly realizing that your arms are tied tightly to your sides. You start to fluster and your breathing picks up. “I-I’m sorry…” You start but Seungmin quickly places his hands on each side of your face and looks at you deeply.

“Hey, you’re ok. I’m right here. Color?”

“Y-yellow. Yellow, sir.” You say as you close your eyes feeling the tears pooling behind your eyes. Seungmin moves closer to you and places your forehead on his shoulder as he runs soothing lines up and down your spine and pats your head with his other hand. You two sit like that for a few moments, your breathing coming back to normal. “G-green.”

Seungmin lightly pushes you back to sitting up. He smiles at you and grabs the rope again. He goes slower this time and finishes wrapping the rope around your body. He sits in front of you as you wiggle slightly as he asks if it's too tight. You promise him that you’re ok and he carefully lays you down on the bed again. He moves back to the box and pulls out the vibrator and the dildo. He returns to your side and traces the vibrator over the rope. You nod at him to continue and Seungmin smirks at you. He climbs on the bed and sits between your legs. He runs his hands up and down your soft skin as he turns the vibrator on.

He traces the vibrator over the rope and runs it along your arms. He slowly drags the vibrator between the valley of your breasts, making direct eye contact with you as he puts the device straight onto your nipple. You arch your back into the sensation and whine high as the vibrations send a wave of warmth down to your core. Seungmin spits into his hand and grabs the dildo, bringing it to your core and running it up and down your lips. You thrash at the feeling, bucking your hips to try to relieve the tension that's been building up between your legs since you and Seungmin were making out on your couch.

He teases the dildo against your entrance, slowly pushing the tip between your lips and quickly retreating, repeating the motion over and over again as he quickens the vibrations on your nipples.

“S-sir, please,” you plead, you need so much more than he’s giving you.

“Okay, pup, I’ll give it to you,” Seungmin says sweetly as he forces the dildo into your core in one swift push. Your breath catches in your throat at the sensation, your walls pulse around the toy. He pulls the dildo out entirely and pushes it all the way in once again. There's a teasing smile on his lips as he pumped the toy deep into your cunt.

“F-feels s-so good,” you whine as you roll your hips in rhythm with his thrusts. “W-want you, s-sir,” you say with a stroke of confidence. He slowed his pace and he looked at you carefully. Something flashes across his face for a brief moment, his dominant persona being replaced by something else, something more desperate. He shook his head and his dominant persona was back. He removed the dildo from your cunt and turned off the vibrator, tossing it to the floor. He leaves you alone on the bed as you watch him remove his clothes, the waistband of his underwear catching on his hard cock, releasing it to let it slap against his stomach. You watch him in awe as he pumps his cock a few times, running a hand through his hair pushing it back, giving you the most exquisite view you've ever seen. Seungmin pauses his movements and smirks down at you.

“Would you like to stay tied up or do you want your hands?” Seungmin looks down at you cautiously but still with a fire behind his eyes that makes you want to hide behind your hands… if they were free.

“I’d like to stay t-tied please,” you say quietly, wiggling on the bed. Seungmin nods and crawls over you, running a finger down your cheek to your chin. He places a feather-light kiss on your nose and continues his light kisses down your neck as he lines himself up to your entrance. He pushes his tip in slowly and harshly snaps his hips into yours, punching the breath out of you. Seungmin stills as he places gentle kisses along your collarbone, snaking his hand up to gently hold your neck.

“Breathe, pup,” Seungmin whispers as he begins to thrust into you at a slow but calculated pace. There isn't any rhythm to his thrusts but the depth that he's reaching inside you already has you seeing stars. You let out shaky breaths, trying your best to focus on Seungmin’s piercing gaze. He’s staring down at you, taking in every single twitch and hitch in your breathing. He’s analyzing what feels good, gauging your reactions to each thrust, each touch.

After a particularly pointed thrust you let out a high-pitched whimper and Seungmin’s gaze darkens. He starts thrusting in a steady rhythm now, hitting that spot that made you see stars, forcing high needy whimpers from your puffy lips. His hand on your neck tightens and his other hand finds your sweet little bundle of nerves. He lightly runs his finger over the bud and you attempt to reach down and pull his hand away from you, but your hands stay where they are, tied to your sides. You try to wiggle away from him but with his hand around your throat and his cock pressing deep inside your wet cunt you’re not entirely successful. Seungmin chuckles cynically at your attempt and he flicks his fingers over your clit repeatedly, watching as you hold back your moans with your lips pulled between your teeth and he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Feel good, pup?” You whine in response, unable to form coherent words at the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. You think for a brief moment that Seungmin will punish you for not answering his question with words, but apparently, he doesn't mind this time and continues his assault on your clit. After a rough thrust, you muffle another moan. Seungmin slaps your messy cunt harshly before soothing his hands over the area. “Don’t hold back your pretty moans, pup. Lemme hear how loud you can be for me.”

You're a writhing mess below him. Moans, ragged breaths, and skin slapping against skin is all that can be heard in your small bedroom. You felt like you could've come at least 10 times already but this time, you can feel it’s different. You want to touch him, pull him close to you, kiss him as you come. “M-min, pl-please stop,” you ask breathlessly.

It takes him a moment to pause his movements before he's looking down at you attentively, searching your features for any discomfort. “Did it hurt? Are you ok? Did I go too rough?” he asks calmly, but there is concern written all over his face. You wiggle your hands that are still bound to your sides and look down at them and look back up to him quickly.

“Wan my hands,” you say quickly, adding an almost forgotten ‘please’ at the end. Seungmin looks down at your hands and quickly pulls at the knots, releasing your tired limbs from their hold, and resumes his previous pace before you have the time to recover. You yelp at the sudden movements and quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. “S-seungmin~” you whimper, “G-gonna, w-wanna cum.”

Seungmin must be close as his grunting has gotten louder since you wrapped yourself around him. “Cum when you’re ready pup, getting close.” Seungmin pushes his nose into your neck, lapping his tongue along your skin, pressing messy kisses here and there as he moans into you.

You feel something deep in your stomach begin to tighten. You dig your nails into Seungmin’s back as your moans get higher in pitch. You babble incoherent phrases as you wrap your legs around his body, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. Seungmin quickened his fingers against your clit, sliding his fingers into your tight cunt with his palm resting on your puffy (and incredibly abused) clit. The additional intrusion was enough to push you over. You muttered out an incoherent sound along with a breathless, “c-cuhm”, as your body shudders and your cunt pulses around Seungmins cock and fingers. A loud shriek pushes past your lips as your climax rushes through you. Seungmin mumbles encouragements into your skin, kissing your ear, chin, and neck. “That’s it pup, wan you to feel so good. Such a good pup, my good pup.”

You feel like you're floating as Seungmins pace begins to get more sloppy. He grinds into you as he groans more praises into your ear. “Good pup, so good for me. My good girl. Good pup, making me feel so good.” He curls his fingers up into your cunt adding pressure once again as he pushes in deeper, his tip kissing your cervix. “Cumin, pup, cuming,” he mumbles as he releases deep inside of you. The pressure of his fingers, his cock pushing against your cervix, and his cum filling you has another orgasm racing through you. You dig your nails into his back as you soundlessly cum again. Seungmin collapses on top of you, his breathing harsh as he softly rocks into you, riding out the last of both of your orgasms.

After a few moments, he pushes himself up to look down at you. He places a light kiss on your nose as he carefully removes himself from you. “Stay right there,” he whispers as he moves towards the bathroom. While he’s gone you catch your breath, stuck in a semi-trance. He’s back in a few moments with what looks like lotion and a towel. Seungmin makes quick and gentle work to wipe you down, rubbing lotion along your skin, all the while he's whispering sweet words to you. You feel so warm, so cared for, so wanted. He has you take a few sips of water before he pulls you into bed, letting you cuddle into his chest as he wraps his arms around you. As you slowly drift off to sleep, you can't help but feel so loved, so safe.

The weekend passes by quickly, Seungmin leaving only to gather some clothes from his house. He spends the weekends exploring you, learning your inner workings, how your mind ticks and functions, how your body reacts to the things he does, and how his mind and body react to you. He also spends a portion of the weekend sending emails which he tells you are simply to figure out when his suspension ends. On Monday Seungmin will return to school, and though it has only been three days, getting used to calling him Mr. Kim in school again seems daunting with you now being used to simply calling him Seungmin.

“What if I just quit and go to another school?” You whisper as Seungmin parks the car in the school lot, Seungmin takes your hand softly, giving you a small smile before speaking.

“Everything will be fine, Miss Y/L/N. No more harassment from students, or staff.”

“How’d you know about the staff-”

“I just know my love, but I promise you, no more.” You’re not sure how Seungmin can make such a promise but still. You make your way into your classroom, your students all waiting attentively for you to start your lesson. The few typical troublemakers in the back sit unusually silent as you begin. A knock on your door causes you to stop your slideshow as a woman you haven’t seen before walks in, followed by Seungmin directly behind her. He closes the door and waits patiently for the woman to speak.

“Good morning students,” she starts, “Miss. Y/L/N.” she nods to you, “My name is Mrs. Im, as some of you may know,” she says as she stares to the back of the class where the usual group of boys sit up straight, some with their heads hung down. “I am your school's new principal. I’ve come to introduce myself. Miss. Y/L/N may I speak to you in the hallway quickly?” You nod as you follow her and Seungmin out into the hall. Your heart racing from not knowing what any of this was about.

“Mr. Kim, Mrs. Im. What is this about?”

“Miss. Y/L/N, I’ll need you to give me a list of the staff who have harassed you. I apologize for this being so sudden, but I’d like to rid my school of such behavior immediately.” Seungmin stands proud beside Mrs. Im as she speaks, “Though for now, I can only offer a suspension as we await investigation but I hope this helps you feel a bit safer within your workspace.” You nod softly as she smiles and walks away, leaving you alone for a moment with Seungmin.

“See my love? I told you. No more.” He smiles at you as he takes your hand gently in his, tracing his fingers across your digits and placing a soft and quick kiss on your fingertip. “Nothing bad's gonna happen to you anymore, not when I can help.” You can’t help the blush that dusts across your cheeks.

“I- uh, gotta get back to my class,” you say sheepishly as you slowly back towards your classroom.

“I’ll meet you at the car after school?” He asks cooly as he tucks his hands into his pockets, smirking at you.

“Of course, Mr. Kim,” you sing-song back to him as you walk into your classroom. Seungmin stands in the hallway for a beat before he turns around, kicking his feet, and lightly chucking to himself.

“My lovely little pup,” he whispers with a smile on his face as he walks down the hall, planning how he is going to have his way with you later this evening.

➽──────────────❥

Tags @chanlixiiee @amalieworldidk @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @elizalabs3 @jisungsbff01 @seungminslittlepup @lieghscloud @foxinnie8 @scarletbedlam @kpoppin-to-the-beat @stay-berry @bbymatz @kurxxmi @skzstaykatsy

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redhoodedangel · 7 months

Text

“Safety in Pills, Y/N” - Arkham Knight! Jason X Reader

I’m not sure how many people who played or seen the Arkham Games also watched ‘The Walten Files’ by Martin Walls on YouTube cause that’s what this is inspired off of…

In essence, Y/N is Sophie Walten…

The premise is that Jason and Y/N were dating around the time he was Robin. Y/N did know about the identities of the others. When Jason is kidnapped and later killed by Joker, Y/N is left traumatized and heartbroken. She is then given meds in order to better cope with the loss. Unfortunately, this caused her to drift apart from the Bat Family and blurs her memories of Jason. However, around the time of Joker’s death, she starts having nightmares and dreams about Jason. Her meds then stop working and she rejoins the Batman Family around when the Arkham Knight makes an appearance.

Warning ⚠️: themes of torture, death and mental health, mentions of medical drug use, amnesia (sort of)

Y/N and Jason are the same age

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

‘Don’t forget your medicine, Y/N!’

‘Take your meds, kiddo!'

‘Safety in pills, Y/N…’

That’s all you’ve heard since you were seventeen. You were now twenty-one and no longer needed your meds that help you through your trauma. Or rather, the meds were not helping you at all, but were hindering you in a way you didn’t realize until about nine to ten months ago.

Your medication was blurring many memories of your childhood, teenage years and even early adult years. During the time you had started taking the pills, you had drifted apart from your late boyfriend, Jason Todd’s, family. Hell, you even lost many memories of him as well. All those good and happy memories you made together…

This went on for over three years… until the nightmares crept in around the time Joker had gotten sick and was dying…

The nightmares were horrific, like a home movie gone wrong. It showed horrible visions of what happened to your boyfriend while he was being held hostage by Joker. Those flashing images are what kept you up most nights.

You immediately made your way back to Bruce and the others after the death of the Joker. After explaining everything that happened, they welcomed you back with open arms. Bruce even started looking into your therapist, who prescribed you your meds. Her email showed many threatening messages from a Mr. Jerome V, ordering her to tamper with your meds or she and her family would die. Bruce then relaid to you that Jerome V was one of many of Joker’s old aliases he used during his early years of crime.

However, when Joker fell ill, your therapist took you off the meds that were blocking your memories. This, of course, is what led to your nightmares and varied dreams about Jason. Without the barrier keeping your past memories locked up, you were prone to regaining them.

Joker wanted you to forget about Jason…

For what reason, you nor Bruce nor anyone could figure out…

And it was likely you never would find out…

~~~~~~~

Fast forward to now, Halloween night during Scarecrow’s big takeover. You were currently with Barbara in the Clock Tower, munching on some burgers you pulled from a fast food restaurant that was abandoned during the evacuation.

This whole situation had you on edge, especially in regards to Scarecrow’s new partner, the Arkham Knight. Much of the information you all had on him showed what he was capable of. He was young and skilled, judging by how he called Bruce ‘old man’. His true voice was disguised, but it felt familiar to you. You just couldn’t understand why…

You clutched at the oversized dark red hoodie you were wearing. It was big on you because it had originally belonged to Jason before he died. It was given to you by Alfred as a reminder of who you had loved and lost. It quickly became a comfort item to you, even holding the remaining scent of cologne, rainwater and smoke that was Jason’s.

“How are you holding up, Y/N?” Barbara asked with a tone of concern, still looking and typing away at her screens.

“I’m fine, Barb. This whole thing just has me in knots.”

“That’s not what I meant…” Barbara said softly, looking at you now for an honest answer. She then added, “How are you doing really?”

You sighed and took another bite out of your half-eaten burger. You chewed thoroughly before answering, “You remember that NCIS two-parter, ‘Hiatus’?”

Barbara thought on your response, “That’s the episode where Gibbs nearly gets killed in an explosion and loses years worth of his memories, right?”

“Yeah… well, I feel like Gibbs after that two part episode. My memory is still fuzzy… I screw up remembering certain people’s names… I remember a lot of things about Jason… our relationship and things like that… but I feel like there’s still some things I’m forgetting about… but I don’t know what…” You said solemnly, looking out of the clock face onto the rest of the city.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I know this is hard for you. Jason’s death affected us all in more than one way. Just know that he really liked you, even loved you…”

You smiled at the redhead, a little more reassured than before. It was always nice to have someone to talk to and rely on during tough times.

After what was probably several hours, you and Barbara got a call from Batman…

“Barbara, you and Y/N need to get out there now!” He exclaimed through the comms. You immediately went over and grabbed your baseball bat before hiding behind one of the bookshelves.

The power then cut out and the elevator opened abruptly. Just then, the Arkham Knight and his men came in, barreling towards Barbara. Barbara fired off a few rubber rounds before being overpowered.

Another soldier came around your bookshelf and you immediately started swinging. You nailed him in the head and flipped him over the shelf. One more militiaman came over and you swung, shattering his left arm. He dropped his gun and you kicked him down.

The Arkham Knight immediately sprung into action, grabbing the bat in your hands in an attempt to disarm you. Knowing that punching him would be a death wish and a half, you immediately let go of the bat. Unfortunately, you lose your footing and hit the back of your head against a nearby bookshelf.

The impact from the fall sent pain shooting through your head. Your vision blurred the more you struggled to stay awake, your body fading away to unconsciousness. The last thing you saw before passing out was the Arkham Knight throwing your bat to the side and walking up to you. You could hear the click of handcuffs when everything faded to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your whole body stirred as you groaned from the pain in your head. As your raised your hand to touch your head, you then realized that you were bound in handcuffs. You also figured out that your head was bandaged up.

You slowly sat up, trying to prevent any more pain or disorientation. Judging by your surroundings, you were locked up in a rectangular box of a cell. Nothing but a makeshift mattress under you and a table near the sealed door. The fact that you were so small compared to the room began to overwhelm you. Some of the anxiety was curbed on account that you were still wearing Jason’s hoodie, but you were still trembling.

Through the glass, you could see the soldiers guarding the outside your cell. You even spotted one of them, who looks at you and noticed that you were awake, began to call someone on his comm. You assumed that he was calling his boss, the Arkham Knight. It just seemed like the most logical explanation for what was going on.

This assumption was proven right as the man himself walked into the room…

He then came right into your cell, his men leaving to who knows where. He reached for his guns before placing them on the nearby table, where your phone and baseball bat were placed. This alone had you backing further into the corner of your cell.

“Y’know, you don’t have to be afraid of me…” The Arkham Knight’s voice was surprisingly gentle when addressing you, despite the harsh edge of the voice modulator.

“Isn’t exactly easy when one of the people responsible for Gotham’s takeover is in the same room as you…” you stammered, clutching Jason’s, now your hoodie.

The Knight then turned around, making his way towards you. You did your best not to panic and look afraid, but you were terrified. He soon swiped a piece of your hair softly, which you lightly flinched at. As if he felt it, the Arkham Knight slowly pulled his hand back. Instead, his gloved hand made contact with the crimson fabric of your hoodie.

“That’s oddly big on you… Someone gave this to you…”

Your eyes grew blurry as tears began to bubble to the surface. Abandoning all your promises of keeping your secret from strangers, you spoke…

“A friend of my late boyfriend’s gave it to me… it was originally his… before he was killed…”

The Knight took a moment to speak, as if your sorrow took him by surprise, “I’m sorry…”

“You got nothing to be sorry about. You’re not the one who shot him… it was Joker and he doesn’t feel remorse for anyone or regret anything for shit. He as hell didn’t regret when he forced my therapist to give me a memory-blocking antidepressant…”

The Arkham Knight cocked his head in question and confusion.

“The pills my therapist prescribed to me made me forget previous years of my life. Including when I was dating my boyfriend and everything we did together. I started taking my medication when he was killed to keep me afloat.”

“Why was he killed?” The Arkham Knight asked, sitting on top of the table next to his weapons coolly. You almost chose not to tell him when you realized that he knew almost everything about Batman and the others. So, who knows what else he might know…

“He was a Robin… the previous one before the current one. I only knew because he chose to tell me… to keep things honest and on the table…”

You took a deep breath as words became harder to speak and come up with…

“The Joker… he took him… tortured and broke him… I… I spent a lot of that time, wondering if he was ever going to come home… if everything was okay and go back to the way it was. But that video came up and…”

Tears overwhelmed you as you begin to remember that horrible year. Your whole body trembled as you recalled every gruesome and excruciating detail. You hiccuped and heaved on the sobs that escaped your mouth.

“H-He didn’t deserve any of what Joker put him through… he-… he just wanted to help others. Sure, he had a different perspective on crime compared to Batman, but… he was willing to take the risk… Hell, telling me he was Robin at the time was a risk… I just miss him so fucking much…”

“It wasn’t your fault. Never has been and never will be…”

“It should’ve been me…”

“Yeah, and then your boyfriend would’ve still gone after the Joker. Nothing would’ve changed except the timing…”

“How would you know?! It’s not like you’re here… in his cell…”

Silence cut the air like a hammer striking a nail once cleanly. You began to wonder what was going on in the Arkham Knight’s head. Why he hadn’t said anything yet or walk away with little care for what you had just said. However, you were not prepared for what he said next…

“Actually, I was…”

You looked at him in shock, wondering what he meant. Surely, he wasn’t insinuating that he was witness to the horrors that Jason was. Surely, he wasn’t saying that he was living in the same hell as your deceased love. What exactly was he trying to say?

Letting out what sound like a heavy sigh, the Knight reached for his helmet. He latched onto the sides of the mocked cowl and began to lift. You backed away further, almost as if you were trying to move through the wall. Suddenly, the masked was finally off…

“Oh, god…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part one done!

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seokgyuu · 6 months

Text

TEASER part of the @svthub 70's collab

Lee Seokmin is a very successful and admired Detective in the NYPD. Up until now he has had no trouble catching the bad guys. But when an especially horrific serial killer starts roaming the streets of New York City and he faces perplexity for the first time in his career - his superiors send a unit from the FBI trained to profile Serial Killers, which contains none other than you - Seokmin’s High School Sweetheart.

Pairing: Detective!Seokmin x FBI Agent!Reader

Genre: Criminal Minds/Detective AU, exes to enemies to lovers, Serial Killer AU, angst, Smut (MDNI!)

Warnings: Serial Killer theme, description of violence, description of dead bodies, cult themes, mentions of suicide, mentions of blood; smut warnings: will be added

Wordcount: teaser: 1045

Seokmin looks up from the file.

“Why is this different from the other four victims? Because she has an important dad, suddenly the tables turn?”

Bream sighs, pulling a hand over his red face.

“It’s not fair, I know that, Lee. But this changes everything. The judge is furious. He wants the slasher to be caught yesterday.”

“Oh, and we don’t? Captain, please, this is bullshit!” Seokmin scoffs, throwing the file back on the table and glaring at his superior, who looks straight back at him.

“I know. We all know Seokmin. It’s a bad situation. But, some might say, it did bring something good.”

“And what’s that?” Stolper speaks up, crossing his arms. Bream clicks his tongue.

“We got sent help. From the FBI.”

Silence is what follows. Seokmin feels the ice inside his veins melt and instead get replaced by fire. He knows Stolper feels the same. Everyone here feels the same. The fucking feds.

“They can’t take this from us. We’ve been on this for months,” Seokmin hisses, and Bream nods again, licking his dry lips.

“They won’t take it from us, Lee. They are only here to help. In fact, they aren’t… our usual feds.”

“What does that mean?” Seokmin raises his brows, leaning forward, hands on top of the table.

“They are a completely new department. Focused on the behavior of criminals, analyzing them, trying to figure out what is wrong with them.”

“They are killing people. That’s what's wrong with them!” Stolper shouts, and Bream holds up his hand.

“I understand that you’re upset. God knows I am, too. But there is nothing I can do. Go talk to them. They just arrived.”

The ice is back, and this time it hits Seokmin right in the face. They are here already? Waiting for them? Embarrassment flows through his veins, mixed with an emotion he has never felt before at this job: failure. His legs are shaking as he gets up, but he tries to play it off, his body tensing when Bream leads them to the door and opens it.

The hallway to the main hall suddenly feels longer than it is. The walls are closing in on Seokmin, the gray concrete threatening to suffocate him as he walks over the horrendous blue tiles he never understood were placed in the first place. Nothing really seems to be matching in this precinct. Most especially Seokmin and the federal agents waiting for them downstairs. He doesn’t know how his legs lead him to the glass front that shows the inside of the busy precinct downstairs. Everything is the same gray color. Everything is the same horrible blue. The only difference is the people standing in the right corner of the room all gathered around the whiteboard Seokmin has so carefully put together these past few months.

His hands are sweating. This isn’t fair. This is his case. They aren’t supposed to be here and take credit for what he has done so far. What exactly have you done, Lee Seokmin? The voice in his head reminds him, and he balls his hands into fists as Bream opens the door leading to the stairs that will finally bring him to the federal agents he knows he’ll hate already.

The atmosphere in the room is tense. More tense than usual because everyone in it is unhappy with the current situation. As if it isn't hard enough that there is a killer on the loose, now there are FBI agents trying to take this away from the NYPD? This is his town, Seokmin’s town! No one knows it as well as him. He knows every corner, every store. Every good place to eat, every bar to avoid. The people know him; they trust him with this, and now he is just supposed to accept that he can’t continue what he started?

He doesn’t know how, but somehow, he does end up right behind all the agents and one of the other detectives, Jeanne, and doesn’t even try to hide the fact he is bitter. His arms are crossed as he listens to Jeanne explaining what is on the board. She had been a part of this - all of the higher detectives have been whenever they could. It’s not like crime suddenly stopped in New York City just because a serial killer was roaming around. If anything, it just got worse.

“That’s about all we’ve gathered. I know it’s not much, but it’s all we got.” Jeanne closes her explanation, and Seokmin watches the backs of the agent's head nodding. Bream then clears his throat, making the others aware that they have joined and once the team of strangers turns around, Seokmin thinks someone has yet again taken a bucket of ice and dumped it all over his head. Because why on earth are you here?

You see him the second he sees you. It’s almost funny how your professionalism slowly slips out of your control, how seeing him makes memories flood your brain and almost drowns you. Why is he here? He, who had left you with a sour taste seven years prior to this moment? Why is he standing there in a well-fitted suit, looking the best he ever had in a precinct that shouldn’t have anything pretty inside it?

“Detectives, may I introduce you to agents Son, Song, Kim, Seok and Y/L/N. They were sent here by the FBI to help us with the investigations.” Jeanne smiles, but Seokmin knows it’s not an honest smile. You see it, too. When you had gotten the memo to go to New York City and help with the slasher murders, you had already known the detectives wouldn’t be too happy to see you and your team.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m the team leader, Hyunwoo Son.” You hear your boss speak, and you want to look at him, but your eyes are back to being glued to Seokmin. Lee Seokmin. The one who had taken everything from you when you were 19.

“You too. I’m Detective Stolper. This is Detective Lee.” Bream doesn’t sound sincere. For once, Seokmin is relieved his older colleague likes to speak over him. He doesn’t know if he would have been able to say a word.

header credit @playmetheclassics

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mxzenpai · 1 year

Text

Idia Shroud x Reader

His and Theirs

Idia knows that Ramshackle doesn’t have the ability for you to have a computer…you wouldn’t mind the set up being in his room…right?

————————————————————————

Idia bites his lip as he stares at the set up in front of him. Did he choose the wrong color for the theme? He could have sworn this was your favorite aesthetic when it comes to this sort of thing. Then again, he really only had how you decorate in your co-ops to go off of. Maybe the games didn’t have the aesthetics you actually like? He looks around his room, seeing the mess that was all over the place shoved into a corner to make room for your desk.

Would you even like this? I mean, you like to play with him, but you never expressed wanting a computer. Hades it feels like he built his stats wrong and he’s about to get one-shot by the final boss. Idia’s hair flicks as he continues to stare at the set up. No no, that monitor needs to be a little higher. He moves to adjust the swing arm of the right monitor to raise it a bit more. Once done he looks at the other two monitors. Three monitors is enough for you right? You don’t need a lot since you aren’t going to be programing or anything… maybe he should have gotten another? Or he can quickly set up a hologram to go abo-

“You’re doing it again.” Idia whirls around to spot Ortho place the cat paw pillow Idia got you onto the chair of your set up. “I’m sure they’ll love it, they love anything you do.” Ortho smiles up at Idia.

“This is like- final boss territory Ortho, I gotta make sure everything is right. It’s like doing a blind playthrough without looking at a strategy guide!” Ortho giggles at Idia’s ramble before quickly leaving the room. Idia turns back to the set up. Should he have gotten some figures? You don’t know a lot of shows though…No! This was dumb! He’s just going to get rid of all of it and you’ll never know!

“Oh wow that’s so cool!” Idia lets out a screech as he whips around to see you standing there. A surprise encounter and he has NOTHING to help him with this! Idia silently watches as you look at the set up, eyes widening upon looking at the rig inside the case. “If this is the here equivalent to the RTX 3090 color me impressed.” Idia pauses.

“You…know computers?” You turn, nodding to Idia enthusiastically.

“Yeah! I played games all the time back in my world, even built my own rig. Things are different here though so I haven’t tried it. Not like I had the money to anyways, but still. Who’s this for? Ortho?” He watches as you take a look at the pc through the glass again before shifting his eyes away.

“For you.” You’re quick to turn, eyes widening in delight.

“For me? Oh hell yeah!” You turn on the pc in quick succession before turning on the monitor. You turn back to Idia. “You gonna sit?” Idia blinks, hair burning a tad brighter before he goes to grab his chair. You roll your eyes, yanking him down into your chair before plopping yourself onto his lap. Idia’s hair turns a bright pink.

“I- wha- but I don’t- you- chair- two of-“ You cover his mouth with your hand.

“Shhhhhhhh…I have a new toy and I must play with it. As the builder of said toy you must watch…aka help me with this part in this game that I’m stuck on.” Idia wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Which game?” Idia watches as you change the wallpaper to one of your favorite characters.

“The one that you let me make a save file for a few days ago. I’m gonna have to use your account to finish the game, might start a new save on my account after I finish though.” Idia nods, his hair going back to blue except for the tips.

You give Idia a kiss on the cheek and his hair lights up again. “Nah but seriously, I appreciate the gesture. I was really missing being able to sit at a pc and play games. Playing with you using your handhelds is fine and all, but I miss the keyboard.” Idia tightens his hold around your waste.

“Almost thought I got the wrong items for the fight.” You let out a laugh.

“Oh come on, you and I both know I’m not a boss. I’m the love interest.” You give a wink before turning back to the pc to boot up the game.

Yeah…you are the love interest, and Idia wouldn’t have it any other way.

#idia shroud #idia shroud x mc #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcannons

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amaryscita · 9 months

Text

Slut me out

So have y’all noticed how Miguel’s theme song sounds so close to Slut me out by Nle? Hehehe

Miguel x Reader smut (i honestly don’t know what I’m doing)

Slut me out-Nle Choppa

(Btw this is my first nsfw & minors dni Ty<3)

(Ps: i Listened to slut me out like 10 times help)

“Rip off my shirt if you love me”

You and Miguel decided to have a quickie in his office since you both were so pent up so he ripped off your shirt as he disable his suit, He pushed you onto the desk and got on top of you starting to suck your nipples “A-Ah~ Miguel por favor mi amor..” You said in a whiney tone “Sé paciente, muñeca” Miguel mumbled while attacking your nipple, leaving hickeys all around your chest <3

Spit in my face when you fuck me

You and Miguel were arguing which turned into hate sex “Eres una puta de mierda” Miguel said which made you spit in his face, that just made him angrier which made him pound into you harder. Legs wrapped around his waist scratch marks on his back. <3

Play with my gooch, while you suck me (rich guy Miguel au)

You were Miguel’s assistant and of course you both fell inlove which is how you landed here, on your knees messing with Miguel’s Gucci belt as you suck him off, “good girl.. you listen to me so well.” Miguel said as he pulled your hair into a ponytail as you looked up at him, your glossy pretty eyes. <3

Eat the dick like you was ugly

You were feeling insecure about how many girls gave Miguel attention so you decided to give him the best head ever, you tied him up so he couldn’t stop you once he finished cumming. His body was shakey “Ba- Ah~ baby.. enough I-i just finished…” <3

(I’m skipping ‘Where your friend? Bring your buddy I don't think that you enoughie.’ Idk if Miguel likes threesomes😇)

Her favorite thing to say is, "Cuff me"

You and Miguel’s sexy time was kinky sometimes, and Miguel liked seeing you cuffed and in restraints it turns him on, “You look so pretty like that doll, all cuffed for me” “Please Miguel.. touch me…” <3

Slut-Slut-Slut me out

Miguel had you in different positions hitting you in every right spot as you’d be either gripping the sheets or gripping his shoulder, he’s made you cum 5 times now and he’s aiming for five more “C’mon pretty, take it for me.” Your legs were shaking and the sheets were soaked but oh you looked so sexy like that, ass red from spanking during doggy style, bite marks on your shoulders from missionary it was a long night <3

(I kinda skipped the repeating 😇)

Big dick energy, I give it

Si, Miguel does give big dick energy cus this man has an 10.8 inch defeater, so good luck 😬😬

Don't believe me, then come feel it. Gon' put this here in your kidney, please

He’s definitely in that kidney, he think it’s cute when he sees your tummy bulge <3

Suck my balls, come chickpea me

He likes his balls sucked 100% i mean yeah it feels good “mm.. yeah.. just like that.. a-ah~ amor..” <3

Fuck you anywhere, I'm that type guy

Public sex is a go, as long as you can keep quiet of course, i don’t blame you if you can’t that man is Woo! <3

What position do I like? All of 'em, baby

He loves you already but you being flexible is a pro, he loves putting you in different positions seeing the way you bend and stuff yah know just trying shit out <3

Put it on camera, masturbate to it later

Definitely records you sex sessions so when you’re away he has jerk off material, Like once!! You were at your parents house without him and poor boy was so horny :( so he went into his private files and had a video of you saved while he’s pounding you from behind 💕 <3

Ever sucked a vegan spider dick? Baby, come taste me

You never thought you’d have sex with someone like him let alone suck his dick but there’s always new experiences all around :D! <3

Don't cum quick, I control my bladder

You’re lying if you tell me this man doesn’t have stamina, this MAN can go HOUUUURRSSSS (well not hours) but he’ll definitely edge you so you both can cum at the same time “C’mon baby.. hold out a little bit more for me?” “M-Miguel.. I-i can’t..”

Dick real big, come climb my ladder

Better bring some rope (iykyk)

Fat coochies, little coochies, all coochies matter

He doesn’t care, he loves you for you (I don’t think talking about coochie is the best explanation buttttt)

Ass real fat, I can make it get fatter

He likes to do doggy style so he can see ur ass clap from behind

Wanna see a magic trick? Bend over backwards

You were cooking and Miguel thought it’d be funny to bend you over backwards and grind against your ass

IM FINALLY DONEZ and yes I’m skipping repeating!! Enjoy

#Spotify #female reader #spider man: across the spider verse #x female reader #x fem!reader #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut

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ariasdistress · 1 year

Text

blood lust.

pairing: vampire!fem reader x sheriff!tyler

warnings: dark mature themes + knife play, gun play, heavy degradation, dub-con, non-con. all my characters are over 18, implied age gap.

after months of bickering and tireless efforts with his father, tyler galpin graduated the police programme. taking on the same career as his father, becoming the new sheriff of jericho.

being the sheriff wasn’t a popular position yet he was a lot more beloved than his father. especially by the outcasts. the new sheriff galpin had a certain avoidance - you could call it leniency that was not shared by his father towards the targeted group.

that brings us to now, riding down suburban slopes while the night was still young. you were staring deep in awe of the navy sky, infinite and vast. the overtly deep thinking accelerated from riding off a high fuelled by petty theft. well, stealing booze.

holding up a normie store was actually easier than expected. in complete honesty, you just threatened to drink them dry and to help your case - you were also an attractive vampire, visually the type of ‘sweet girl next door’ that nobody suspects to be a troublemaker.

although, you were quite the contrary even aspiring to be a big time criminal. like a textbook rebel outcast. coming from a broken home, forced to go to nevermore and misbehaved just to feel something; to feel alive.

misbehaving in nevermore was mainly stealing blood bags, smoking behind the sports hall or sometimes doing a little more than ‘fanging out’ with guys in your dorm room after hours.

struck by an idea while riding past a dimly lit house. you gazed in wonder at the isolated structure. far from town with a variety of towering lithe trees surrounding it.

‘perfect’ you clapped your hands together, smiling to yourself. the light of the moon twinkled off your fangs as the alcohol caused a certain swing to your hips. your confidence exhilarated, without a care for the consequences.

karma, however, waits for no vamp.

not realizing sooner that the one inside the home was awake.

watching you.

knowing what you were about to do.

knowing who you were.

with ease you swiftly climbed up the pipe, skilfully opening the lock on the vintage window. “like clockwork” you mumbled happily. a little tug of the lock was needed then you were in. sliding inside and taking in the somewhat messy bedroom.

‘damn, whoever lived here is a slob.. pick up a coffee mug once in a while..’ you thought to yourself.

white sheets contrasted the dark toned clothes scattered across the large bed. a sigh escaped you while your claw shaped nails playfully brushed against a hoodie thrown onto a chair..

you noticed an old desk sat adjacent to it, curiosity starting to arouse your interest as you tiptoed over to the desk. once again messily dispersed with.. case files?

panic quickly spread like an disease causing your eyes to widen. frantically reading the front of the mustard yellow folder.

“property of jericho county police station.”

“holy fuck” your voice became shrill as you muttered. your smugness had been drained and replaced with a sense of pessimism.

“out of all houses to rob?? why the fuck did it have to be sheriff fucking galpin??” you were left with nothing to do but crouch idle next to the bed. hoping, praying to anything out there that nobody was home.

as you got up to leave through the window, the silence broke with the pump of a shotgun echoing behind you.

a symphony of goosebumps ran through your body as you held your hands up in fear. biting at your lower lip. turning around slowly to accept whatever fate had in store for you.

“what is a pretty thing like you doing in my house so late?” an older man grinned. in your mind, far too old to be the freshly 18 tyler galpin that worked at the weathervane while you were a kid. the messy blonde didn’t back down, now aiming the shotgun at your forehead.

you stepped forward taking a closer look at him. almost surprised, it was tyler only quite older, taller and physically much more muscular. he cleared his throat, the sound snapped you back into reality.

“answer me, what the fuck are you doing inside my house.” you tried to respond but your vocal chords shrivelled up, watching the barrel of the shotgun approached closer to you.

your glossy pink lips instantly pouted with eyes welling up in tears, “i-im so sorry sheriff”, you mumbled out. mascara trickling down your flushed cheeks.

knowing deep inside you looked beautiful, you weren’t surprised when dark green eyes fell onto your mirage of sadness.

“see i thought this was my friends house- i wanted to surprise her- it was my first time i-in this new neighbourhood and i-.” you put your all into this act, knowing the only card left to play was the ‘innocent sweet nymph.’

“cut the shit sweetheart” he interrupted, lowering the shotgun yet his stance stayed stern. his strong fingers trailed over his forehead, eyebrows, toward his hair as the corner of his mouth warped into a smirk.

“i can smell a vampire like you from yards away. i’ve been watching you too. for weeks. you’re an amateur at best. thought you were going to rob me huh? fucking airhead.” his voice was spiked with venom as he inched closer.

everyone assumed he broke the generational curse of disliking outcasts - being a normie and all. but nobody except his colleagues knew his secret; his burning hatred for outcasts. developing from his father, he harboured a special animosity especially towards vampires; calling them vermin and leeches behind closed doors.

“n-no sir i couldn’t even dream of robbing you, i’m um just a bit tipsy and wanted to surprise a friend! honest!” pleading, you realised the ‘innocent girl’ was fading. you swallowed the lump in your throat, the atmosphere in the room now becoming unbelievably tense.

tyler burst out laughing, “do you think i’m stupid y/n i’ve been watching you this entire time. you vampires really think you’re better than everybody? your ego needs to be brought down a few pegs doll.”

you felt your blood boil, why was he being so mean? sure, this wasn’t the most optimal of situations but you being a vampire had nothing to do with this.

“sheriff.. me being a vampire doesn’t have anything to do with this. if you let me go, you won’t ever see me again. please.” tears flowed mixing with your eyeliner while your voice started wobbling out of a mixture of anger and fear.

the last thing you wanted was to be on tomorrow’s local news as the idiotic thief who got caught stealing in a sheriff’s home.

“keep crying pretty like that and i just might let you go.” sheriff galpin joked, before whacking you with the side of his shotgun. the sting greeting your cheek as you laid there in pure agony.

“i’ll teach you a lesson, doll, one you won’t forget” the world was spinning out of focus. the blurred image of a malicious grin and strong arms lifting you was the only thing left. only moments later, engulfed in complete darkness.

you awoke to being bound. legs and arms restrained in cuffs behind your back as you kneeled in front of tyler, his dark boots took up your eyesight.

you could almost taste the dampness of the room. was this a basement? a prison? you jolted at his rough fingertips lining your jawline, forcing you to look up at him.

“aren’t you a vision for sore eyes? never knew a bloodsucker could be this lovely looking...” he whispered. the older male now turning your face to observe your every feature. the left side of your face was red, ready for bruising while your long lashes parted. showcasing your dark eyes staring knives and daggers at tyler.

“fuck you.” you were able to mumble out before you were met with another pain. a large hand tugged on your hair violently, gesturing your face toward his boots. after struggling and fighting against his grip nothing was working.

“lick them. whore.” strings of your hair began to pluck out, deciding to give into his demands quickly. you sobbed as you licked a small stripe on his black boots. a shine forming where your saliva met his boots.

wincing, you spat out the taste without hesitation. with rage consuming your mind.

“don’t look at me like i’m a bad guy sweetheart. you did this, but i’ll be nice. i promise.” tyler hummed, cupping your face, almost lovingly with his palm. he pointed to the end of the room, pivoting your head to look at it.

“let’s just make a little home video, to show the guys at the force what happens to pretty little outcasts who decide to become petty criminals”. he smiled, sinister intent masking any kindness left behind his mossy eyes.

before you could utter a word of objection, tyler slashed his palm with a silver kitchen knife. hissing, pushing the dripping blood up to your mouth. your tongue lapped up the blood like a starved animal with greedy fangs greeting the sheriff’s palm.

you scanned the older man’s face through wet lashes; maroon orbs twinkling while you whimpered against his cut for more blood, tongue pushing and swirling around his wound. tyler looked down at you, hating himself for admiring how pretty you were under the broken lights.

“god you’re a good girl. you’re so obedient for me.” the blonde praised, using a free hand to run through your hair. after soaking up every drop you detached your fangs from his hand, licking the excess from your lips making sure the older man saw it.

tyler used his wounded hand to rub your bruised cheek, cooing sorrys and awws. being blood-drunk you leaned into tyler’s palm like a touch starved pet, hoping he would feed you again.

the sweetness of the action turned into malice as he grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing your lips to crash into the crotch of his sweatpants. he laughed while the outline of his hardening cock rubbed up against your lips and nose.

“you’re so stupid, it’s almost cute. thought i’d gone soft on you huh?” the corner of his lips turning upwards as he turned his body towards the camera - hoping it catches your every pitiful sound as you whimpered in protest against the thick fabric.

whines and no’s left your lips as you tried your best to keep them shut. you felt like crying out for help again, but you knew it wasn’t any use.

his hand sneaked down and grabbed your cheeks, pushing them open as his other hand slid his sweatpants and boxers down in a singular motion. his pale cock sprung free, precum leaking down his blushing shaft.

staring in awe of his length, it was so thick you could feel your throat closing up. tyler couldn’t help but fight back a smile looking at your desperate expression, wanting to run his tip over your perfectly shaped lips.

“suck. if you use your fangs i’ll break your jaw, leech.” he spat, gripping your jaw tighter towards his throbbing cock. you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out as the sheriff gestured to you to lick it.

it was beyond embarrassing knowing you were being filmed. giving pet-like licks to an older man’s cock but you couldn’t help but fight a growing impatience between your legs. how tyler’s disheveled blonde hair, low eyes and big muscular arms enchanted you into wanting more.

growing impatient of the teasing from your blood covered tongue, he forced himself into you. groans left the older man as you glanced up at him. his lips half open and brows scrunched together in pleasure; you hummed around his cock, rubbing your thighs together for any kind of friction - shamelessly imagining tyler’s thick fingers inside you instead.

“keep looking at me, just like that slut. that’s all you’re fucking good for. god you’re pretty with my cock inside your filthy mouth.” the male growled, bottoming out inside you with your drool coating the base of his cock entirely. his hands found their place in your fluffy hair, interwoven in your locks to fuck your mouth deeper.

hoping tyler wouldn’t notice, your fangs lightly grazed the tip of his cock as he pulled out. unfortunately he did, his agonising grip getting firmer craning your neck up to look at him.

“the one thing i asked for you not to fucking do, you brainless airhead. you fucking deserve for this.” he cut himself off with a groan of frustration. he grabbed your waist and spun you around, angrily unlocking both the cuffs to spread your legs. dropping to the floor like a ragdoll, your ass was up in the air while he palmed your heat through the denim shorts.

“please.. stop.. sheriff please. i’m a virgin.” you told him the truth, hoping he would show you some mercy. sure you did stuff, but never to the extent of getting fucked, this fact embarrassed you beyond belief.

“you should’ve thought twice about that, hopefully that tight little cunt will listen to me.. maybe i’ll send this to your parents too huh sweetheart?” tyler sneered, his cut hand groping the exposed skin of your ass that the shorts couldn’t cover. wishing to crush whatever spirit you had left, he wanted you to submit completely to him.

large veiny hands creeped down your body, “look how slutty a virgin like you dresses. pathetic, like you’re begging to get fucked against your will” he mumbled in your ear, large hand coercing your jaw to look at the camera in front of you. tyler’s other hand perfectly cupping your tits, twisting the hardening peaks through your thin black shirt.

“smile for the camera sweetheart, tell them how you’re about to lose your virginity to a man old enough to be your dad” he softly spoke smiling toward the lens, his deceivingly loving touch creeped lower to skilfully undo your denim shorts. realising what was going to happen you sobbed quietly, your cries evaporated. “shut the fuck up” sheriff whispered ripping your shirt into pieces from your back. the black fabric caressed the ground.

at this point the large video camera was facing you as you were on all fours, your arms shaking from holding your weight up. the metal cuffs did a number your skin, with bruises forming from the violent friction. trying to cower and hide your privacy didn’t work with tyler as he kneeled behind you, forcing your legs apart in his presence.

awe and wonder contorted the sheriff’s face, drinking in your puffy leaking cunt.. “prettiest cunt i’ve ever seen” he spoke, loud enough so only you could hear it before rubbing your entrance softly.

your face flushed at the sounds behind you, unable to wait tyler slapped his cock around your wet pussy. slowly rubbing the tip of his head against your ball of nerves, grunts of satisfaction leaving his parted lips.

the screen next to the camera filled with the image of you getting violated. your were lips bitten trying not to let out noise when tyler glanced at the screen pissed off that you were holding back.

he slapped your ass painfully, enjoying the look of the skin rippling. “make as much sound as you like sweetheart. i’m sure the guys down at the the station would love to hear how i break you down into nothing but a whore.”

just as he finished his sentence, you felt his thick head poke at your entrance, “you’re so tight, i might not even fit.” forcing himself inside, a groan leaving his mouth as his entire throbbing cock hugged the inside of you. you whispered profanities to yourself, not wanting to make noise.

your wetness didn’t help your unstretched cunt from latching onto him, making it unable for him to move. the glint of the knife next to him grabbed his attention. sadism taking over, he started cutting into another part of his bloodied hand and bringing it around to your lips.

the scent and sound of blood droplets on the floor made your brows perk up, blood-lust ran through your veins as you soft inhaled the aroma. the mouth watering, sweet scent of blood.

you caught onto what the sheriff was doing as your vision filled with cloudiness, his deep voice sounding like a hallucination.

“drink up.. don’t make me force it down your delicate little throat” his voice was like molasses to you but his blood smelled sweeter. his heartbeat was quickening, the sound of his blood travelling through his veins filling your ears.

you couldn’t fight it back anymore. letting yourself slip with your fangs leading the way. letting the wet skin touch your lips as you consumed the red liquid, wanting to drain his hands. tyler laughed at the scene feeling how soaked you were getting.

pushing his hand against your mouth, the older male grabbed at your waist. squeezing your skin as he bucked his hips inside you, making you cry our. tyler used his cut up hand to grab a handful of your hair, pounding you in the process. euphoria washed across your face as you tried to protest but nothing came out your throat except needy sounds.

“you’d fuck anyone on camera if they gave you some blood huh?” like second nature you cried out for tyler, his name the only thing on your broken mind. he drove his cock into the spongy part of your insides, making you gasp out ‘no’s’ - not wanting to climax so soon.

“no? no??? you want to say no to me?” the sheriff’s voice darkened, dragging out the last sentence as he reached for a pistol behind him. in the same motion he pulled out, pushing his entire length deep inside of you. rapidly hitting your cervix at a pace your body couldn’t keep up with.

large hands played with the pistol. a calloused finger dancing with the trigger, the gun was ghosting around your skull. cold metal pushed against the temple of your head, fear erupting - you felt beyond helpless.

breathless moaning and efforts to finish your sentence fell short. his cock felt full inside you and you didn’t even realise your hips were moving.

“you’re choking my dick so fucking good. you like this pervert? i should put a bullet in your head?” his hand rapidly traced down your body, gliding over your soft skin. the blonde rubbed your clit mercilessly, forcing you into let out shameless noises.

skin smacking against each other and high pitched moans left your plump, dark red and bitten lips. you turned around to look at him, both your eyes connecting to catch a longing gaze.

dark red nails scratched into the floor of his basement as your release neared closer. the older man noticed how your swollen cunt gripped his cock every time he degraded you.“everyone’s going to see how stupid you get on my dick now? are you proud slut?”

“please, sheriff ‘m gonna cum” you yelled out, clamping your pussy involuntarily against his cock. tyler was close, his pace becoming animalistic, letting his cock think for him. mere moments after, your insides were filled with his warm cum. his cock pulled out of you causing your body collapse.

in response tyler dropped his gun to the floor. his strong arms held your unconscious body up - his hands carrying your thick thighs. spreading your legs apart to show the camera your pussy, his cum dripping to the floor shamelessly.

“this stupid bimbo won’t be stealing anytime soon”

author’s notes: sorry i haven’t posted in so long! i’ve been in a kind of slump!! i’ve been pretty inspired with the whole sheriff and criminal relationship n i wrote this, hope everyone enjoys! i will be writing more soon!

thank you for reading! aria. ᥫ᭡

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swissboyhisch · 10 months

Text

The Sugar Fix

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: After opening your cafe and bar, a familiar hockey player comes in opening day. Seems like he remembers you too.

Word Count: 1942

Warnings: Alcohol

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

A new shop was opening near the Prudential Centre called The Sugar Fix. They had been all over social media before they had even opened. People have been talking about it for weeks. By day it was to be a cafe bakery but at night it would transform into a hidden bar. And it was opening this weekend.

The bar theme was to change every month. With events to be held every weekend. But since it was the start of the NHL Playoffs, with the New Jersey Devils one of the top picks for the Stanley Cup, the bar had collaborated with the hockey team. The opening weekend of The Sugar Fix Bar was to be themed Devils & Demons.

But before the opening of the hidden bar, the bakery had to have a successful day. You were in the kitchen early with your best friend and a couple of the other girls you had hired. Music was playing through the store’s sound system. Some Taylor Swift this early never hurt anyone.

“Do you want to start putting things in the display cases?” Hannah, one of your workers, suggested to you and your best friend/co-owner.

You both agree and start moving the goods to the glass cases. The four shelves in all the cases were filed with many of the cakes, cookies and pastries looking bright, colourful and inviting. From the large selection of cookies to the display of many flavours of cupcakes. Another large display case filled with cakes pre-cut ready for the coffee and cake slice special.

You walked around the store for the tenth time. Another lap. You had to make sure everything was just how you wanted it. All the greenery in the cafe. The table decorations to the sample boxes you could buy. It needed to be perfect.

“Everything is fine,” Your best friend reassured.

“We’ll see how it goes.”

“I can assure you we have gone over everything. This will be everything we have ever dreamed of.” They pulled you in for a hug. “Today is going to be great and tonight will be even better.”

Time ticked by and then finally the time came. 6AM. Opening time for the Sugar Fix. Since the bakery was also a cafe, they sold coffees and other drinks. Perfect for the morning on the way to work.

You greet a couple of people waiting outside the door for you to open. “Good morning, welcome to The Sugar Fix.”

The day got busier as the sun rose in the sky. At around 9, the cafe was bustling with most of the tables full of people. A large group of men walked in. They all looked around, enjoying what they saw. All the sugary treats. One in particular you recognised, the tall brunette with an accent. Nico Hischier.

The captain of the New Jersey Devils and you had met in the past. Back when you were both 21. He was out with his team celebrating a big win. You on the other hand were out with some friends celebrating one of the girl’s birthdays. Nico had come up to you, kinda drunk, and started to flirt with you. The night was great and you both had a good time. Maybe having a club corner makeout. Sadly you two, in the drunken haze, forgot to exchange numbers. It was a night you couldn’t forget. Well you couldn’t forget him.

You happened to be serving customers when he and what you predicted were his teammates came up to the counter. A small smile was exchanged between you and Nico before he double checked with his friends on orders. You went through the orders, one by one. Making sure they were correct.

“If you guys want to take a seat, I’ll bring your drinks to the table.”

After they moved away from the counter, Hannah had taken over serving customers. Allowing you to bring the soon made coffees and drinks to the hockey players. (Y/b/f/n) assisted you with the task. She didn’t know who’s order you were delivering. But when she saw who was sitting at a table, she had a Cheshire grin on her face. Aimed right at you.

“Is that–”

“Yes, and if you say anything, I’ll strangle you.”

They grins and greets the table when you arrive. “Welcome to The Sugar Fix boys.”

You placed the cups you were holding onto the table, specifically the one you remembered was Nico’s. He smiled, grabbing the cup and taking a sip. “Thank you.”

“Congratulations on the playoff spot.”

“Thank you,” Jack grins. “Congratulations on the store.”

Your best friend grinned, “Thank you, it’s a dream come true for the both of us.”

“So you two are the owners?” Nico asks.

“Yes, the creative minds behind everything.”

You both had to be pulled away to help other customers. You were too distracted by another customer that when you turned back to the table the boys were sitting at, it was empty and being wiped down by another worker.

“Don’t worry,” A voice behind you spoke up. Your best friend sent you a smirk, “You’ll see him again.”

It came time to close the bakery after the successful day. The bakery had been busy all day, customers coming in and out of the store. A variety of comments and compliments from many customers. Now it was to clean and get the bar ready for the night.

The Sugar Fix, a bakery cafe by day, was now becoming a bar/club. The bar staff had arrived early to make sure the bar was set and the garnishes for drinks and cocktails were prepared for the long night ahead.

Tonight, well this month’s theme, was Devils & Demons. The room was decorated with New Jersey Devils merch and devil themed decorations. Once a month, first weekend with a new theme, prizes for the best dressed male and female would be handed out. Everyone was encouraged to dress up.

Whilst you were doing some last minute moving furniture, your phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number.

Can I see you again? I can’t let you slip away a second time - Nico

How did he… “(Y/b/f/n)!”

“What?” They asked as she stood from behind the bar.

You showed them the message and the biggest grin spread across their face. “He actually did it?!”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” They shrugged innocently. A look from you had them laughing. “I just gave him your number after he watched you walk away to help another customer.”

You didn’t bother to reply to your friend, just tried to figure out what to say. Write a message. Delete it. Reword the message. Delete it. Then finally you came up with what you wanted to send Nico.

You have your last regular season game tonight, do you have training tomorrow?

No, why? Wanna do something tomorrow? - Nico

Well… Are you and the boys planning on celebrating making the playoffs?

Some of them mentioned going out - Nico

I can make you guys an area… Block off a couple booths

I’ll agree if you spend the evening with me in said booths - Nico

“You can do that.”

You jumped at the sudden voice in your ear. “Jesus fucking christ.”

“We open at 8, the boys won’t be here till like 10:30/11 at the earliest. You get to do the open and a couple of hours of serving.”

Tonight’s on duty manager, Tom, leant on the bar beside you guys. “You two, when the team comes in, go join them. Celebrate the successful day!”

“Yes!” Tahlia shouted from the other side of the room. “Do it. You guys have worked so hard, celebrate.”

You relented and sent another text to Nico.

Deal. But my best friend is gonna join us cause we’re gonna celebrate too

Deal - Nico

With the confirmation from Nico, your nerves increased. You had three hours until the hidden bar opened. Then another three until the boys arrive.

“We need to get ready,” (Y/b/f/n) orders when they realise the time.

“I did not bring date clothes,” You stress.

They roll their eyes. “I saw what you brought. It’s fitting for a club that’s having a theme night. And it’s hot as fuck.”

“I didn’t expect to have to impress a guy. Let alone him!”

The two of you went into your office at the back, behind the bar. It even had a private bathroom. You both had brought a bag full of everything you needed. Someone had turned up the music in the bar as you all started to get dressed for your shifts. Heartbeat by Childish Gambino started to play so everyone was singing along.

Within an hour of opening, the club was full of people dressed up. Music blasting and the bar was buzzing. The back corner by the bar was empty, the roped off area ready for the occupants to arrive. It made you nervous every time you looked at it.

“It will be fine.”

It wasn’t fine. You were so nervous you had to hide in the office for a hot moment. The NHL app had informed you that the Devils had won against the Capitals. Their last regular season game. You knew you’d have a little more time since they had to do media and get ready to go out. Meaning 11 was most likely their arrival time.

Can you text me when you’re on your way? Just so I know

As you expected, you didn’t get a reply straight away. But when you did, it was nerve racking.

We’re on our way now - Nico

Fuck. Instead of sitting and worrying over the situation, you got a couple buckets of beers and placed them in the booths for the guys. Along with a couple of wine bottles and glasses just in case that’s what some of the partners felt like. Then you got behind the bar. Keeping busy. Keeping your mind from the cute swiss hockey player coming to see you. With it being so busy, you got swept up into serving other patrons and kinda forgot about the VIP guests.

“Hot date, 11 o’clock.” You glance over in the direction your friend had mentioned and sure enough there was a group of players making their way through the crowd. “Go greet them!”

Nico grinned when he spotted you weaving through the crowd. God you were looking hot. He hoped that tonight would be great, fun. Especially with you. Nico wasn’t letting you slip away from him again.

“Hey, welcome to The Sugar Fix! Congrats on the win boys. I’ll show you guys to your area.”

You lead everyone through the crowd and past the bouncer you had positioned at the entrance of the roped off section. The boys immediately went for the alcohol on the tables. The partners went for the wine.

“Thanks for this,” Nico smiled, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music.

“Anytime,” You blush. “Did you just want one of those beers or would you prefer something else?”

You didn’t even have to move because a cosmo was thrusted in front of you. You glanced to see Tom holding it out. “Your favourite.”

The boys all cheer as you two join them at the tables. Everyone had drinks in hand, grinning and celebrating their win. Jack came up to Nico and slapped him on the shoulder. A tray of shots held out to the pair of you. Nico grabbed one and passed it to you before grabbing one for himself.

“Cheers.”

“To the win,” you grin.

“To the date,” Nico adds.

TAG LIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings @jayrami3

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