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marvelfilth · 6 months

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Jealous girl (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: secret relationship, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, daddy kink, fingering, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Natasha's in her 30s), praise, pet names, orgasm denial

Summary: your best friend Peter needs help, Natasha's not happy about it at all.

Masterlist

You're standing in the kitchen when it happens.

Peter barges in, his hair a tangled mess, his sweatshirt inside out. You jump away from Natasha's arms, making her spill her protein shake. She shoots him a dirty look, her lips curling up upon registering his disheveled state.

You try to keep the annoyance from showing on your face, but you know you're doing a terrible job when Peter winces apologetically, throwing a bag full of Ben and Jerry's on the counter.

"Code red," he pants.

You straighten immediately, trying to shoo Natasha away with a look, but, instead of leaving, she makes herself comfortable on the counter with an excited glint in her eyes.

You've been friends with Peter ever since he ran you over with his bike in kindergarten, leaving you with a tiny scar on your shin, and a fear of any two-wheeled object. Your friendship grew over the years, and soon enough you were joined at hip, going to the same school and college, tagging along on his patrols, mainly to keep him out of the police radars.

"What's wrong?" You ask, fearing the worst. "Is Venom acting up again? Is it Felicia? I swear to God, if it's her again I'm gonna-"

That's when you decided to make a secret code to help you stay under the radar. In hindsight, you could've thought of something more elaborate than code red, code green and code yellow, but neither of you had enough brain power for that.

"It's MJ!" He cuts you off, shifting on his feet.

You stammer, looking at Natasha for help, but she appears equally puzzled. "I didn't think she had it in her, to be honest," she says, taking a sip of her shake.

"What?" Peter yelps, before jumping up, his hands flying up in an X motion. "No! She's not- No! She's not a villain, or a criminal, or anything like that."

You decide you've had enough of his blabbering, so you take hold of his shoulders and corner him against the counter. "What is it, Peter?"

He takes a deep breath, his cheeks painted crimson, and blurts out, "I really need you to kiss me."

You jump away like you've been burned, shooting an alarmed look to Natasha, but she doesn't register it, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her knuckles white from the grip she has on her protein shake. You think you can hear it creak.

You turn back to look at your best friend, who's blissfully unaware of your relationship with the most dangerous person in this building, just like everyone else on the team.

Natasha's reluctance to share her love life with her teammates came to bite her in the ass.

"No, wait. That came out wrong." He winces, his eyes darting to Natasha. You can hear him gulp when their eyes meet.

"I think you were pretty clear, Parker," she gritts, jumping off the counter, and comes to stand behind you, hovering over your shoulder.

You send him an encouraging look, taking hold of Natasha's hand behind your back.

"I have a date with MJ-"

"Doesn't explain why you need my- Y/n to kiss you."

You shoot her a warning look. "Let him finish."

Her jaw clenches, but she relents, nodding to the boy to continue.

He looks like he regrets every life choice that led him to this moment.

"Okay, so. I have a date with MJ, and I planned it all out, right? But… um… there's a problem." He clasps his hands, thumbs fiddling. You stay silent in fear of him closing off, and patiently wait for him to continue. "I've never had a girlfriend before, and I've been kissed twice, if you count that one time when Ned fell on top of me and kind of swallowed my face." Natasha snorts, and Peter blushes deep red, his eyes pleading. "I need practice because otherwise I'll just embarrass myself, and she'll hate me forever."

You feel Natasha tense up again, and you're ready to ask her to leave, but she beats you to it, speaking up before you could open your mouth. "I don't think MJ would like you kissing someone else right before your date." Her tone is even, carefully emotionless, but you feel the way her breathing shakes slightly, her grip on your hand tightening.

Peter looks at you, brows set in confusion. "But it's Y/n, she doesn't count as someone!" You huff, indignant. He winces, but goes on. "I could ask Ned, but I don't think he has any experience, so please, please do this for me?"

You turn around to face Natasha. "Can you leave us?"

Her eyes narrow, lips curled. "You're not kissing him." Her hands land on your waist possessively, and you're suddenly turned around. She lowers her chin to your shoulder, lips grazing the shell of your ear as she speaks, "Listen to me very carefully, Parker."

Peter gulps, and takes a step back, his eyes wide and alert.

"You're going to leave and find someone else to help with your little problem. We'll pretend this conversation never took place, and you'll never even think about kissing Y/n again. Am I being clear?" She almost growls, her eyes flashing.

Peter nods dumbly, before hurrying to the door. He stops halfway to shoot you a bewildered look over his shoulder. "Wait… Are you two-"

"Out, Parker," Natasha barks, her face half buried in the crook of your neck. You blush, and wave your friend goodbye, grateful when he disappears behind the door without any further questions.

"Tasha," you whine, turning in her hold. "That wasn't necessary."

She scoffs, and picks you up with practiced ease, settling you on the counter and taking place between your parted thighs. "Yes it was." She sucks at the tender skin just below your collarbone, leaving a stinging bruise. "I can't believe you wanted me to leave." She squeezes your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth is all over your neck - sucking, biting and licking, claiming. You're sure no amount of concealer will be enough to hide the marks.

"Natty," you whimper, "he's my friend, I wanted to talk some sense into him."

She hums, the skin on the underside of your jaw pulled between her teeth. "I did the same thing, no?" Her fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts, but you're quick to catch her wrist.

"What are you doing?" You look around, panting heavily. "What if someone walks in?"

"Daddy," you moan, pushing her face lower. Her fingers feel so heavenly that you don't even care about anyone walking in - you need her tongue, now. "Please."

You're pushed flat against the counter then, your back on the cold marble, your ass hanging right off the edge. Your fingers disappear in her tresses when she bends down to place a kiss on your clothed cunt.

"Let them see who you belong to," she murmurs, entering your aching core. You bite back a moan, arching in her hold, your pussy clenching around her long digits. Fleeting kisses are placed all over your stomach, her fingers curling inside your heat.

She chuckles, gently biting on your hip bone. "So needy already? I barely started." She adjusts the angle, fastening the pace, but your shorts get in the way, making you huff impatiently.

"Take them off, please," you whimper, clenching around her.

"And when someone walks in, and sees you spread wide open, what then? You think I'd allow anyone to see this pretty pussy?" Her fingers scissor inside you, stretching your walls.

"N-no."

"That's right," she hums, "because it belongs to me." She pulls out to land a short slap on your slit. "Perfect little hole for daddy to play with."

She teases your folds, collecting wetness before pushing her fingers into your mouth. You eagerly suck them in, letting her fuck your mouth, tips of her fingers pushing against your throat. "Such an obedient girl," she murmurs, dark eyes fixated on your lips. You squirm, hips rocking against her abdomen with desperate need of release.

She pulls out her fingers, smearing your slick mixed with spit over your chin.

"I need you," you whine, catching her wrist and leading her hand lower, your panties sticking to your drenched cunt.

She takes the fabric in her fist, and tugs it up, making it press against your pulsing clit. You moan loudly, throwing your head back. She kneads your supple breast with her other hand, and you arch into her, pulling her closer to your aching core with your hips.

"We'll tell everyone tonight," she murmurs against your lips. "But right now you need to be a good girl and take everything daddy gives you."

You nod, feeling your pussy clench around nothing, begging for Natasha's fingers to return. She tugs on your lower lip with her teeth and plunges three fingers inside, hitting a spongy spot deep in your heat. You arch off the counter, pressing against her front, your legs clenched hard around her hips. She grunts lowly, setting a slow pace, making sure to explore your pussy with each thrust, collecting your wetness when she pulls out only to push it back inside. You bury your face in her shoulder, your fingers disappear in her hair, tugging at the tresses.

"Good?" She whispers against your ear, spreading her fingers inside, her thumb firm on your clit.

You gasp, and bite down on the muscle of her shoulder, nodding with your eyes clenched shut. "S-so good, daddy."

She hums, her full lips pulling in a smirk, and starts circling your pulsing nub. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, and she takes the opportunity to paint your neck purple, sucking on the tender skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"M'gonna… I'm gonna come," you whimper when she hits your sweet spot, making your toes curl.

"Did I say you could, babygirl?" She chuckles into your neck, making sure to hit the spot with each thrust. You shake your head, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in effort to stop your approaching orgasm, your body as tense as a drawn bowstring. "That's right, baby," she cooes, kissing the corner of your mouth, "you're not allowed to."

Your heart drops to your stomach, torn between wanting to be Natasha's good girl and giving in to the pleasure. “Please, please let me…” you whine, buckling against her hand.

She pulls away, her eyes level with yours, and you want to sob from how good she feels inside you, your pussy clenching around her slender fingers.

“You’ll hold it for me,” she says, “and I'll make up for it later tonight.” You almost huff in frustration, knowing that you'll have to walk around the Compound painfully wet for the rest of the day.

She grabs your jaw, seemingly reading your thoughts. “And don't even think about touching yourself.”

She pulls away abruptly and tugs you off the counter before fixing your shorts and stepping away. You blink rapidly, disoriented by the sudden change, your pussy aching in the sweetest way.

Sam enters the kitchen a second later.

You subtly wipe your mouth clean, and even out your breathing while he rummages the upper shelves. Natasha's eyes glint with mischief as she slowly wipes her fingers with a paper towel.

"You up for a training session?" She asks Sam, and you shoot her a furious look. Your glare does nothing to the redhead, as she continues watching you silently, a teasing smirk pulling at her mouth.

Sam scoffs, looking between you two. "Like you weren't about to get nasty two seconds ago."

Natasha chuckles, her eyes flashing. "About to? You need to work on your observation skills, Wilson."

Sam stills, his eyes darting between you two, and you look away, knowing that nothing could hide your red cheeks and bruised lips.

He chokes on his water the moment he sees your neck. "Damn, Romanoff," he gasps, coughing. "Right here?! This is a sacred place! I cook here!"

Natasha hums, shrugging carelessly. "I eat here," she retorts, and you can tell by the crinkles near her eyes she's about to say something that's gonna make you want to bury yourself. "Actually, I was about to devour something really delic-"

"Natasha!" You shriek, tugging her away from the kitchen, but not before quietly apologizing to Sam.

She laughs quietly, following you to the bedroom. "I think we're banned from the kitchen now."

She thinks. You scoff, shaking your head. Trust Natasha to go from a full secrecy mode to telling every living soul about your sex life.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader #black widow smut #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you

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ellemj · 2 months

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I Hate You

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @kateversca1011: "y/n has these weird mind powers where she can feel others feelings or make others feel hers...she accidentally during a very heated fun time projects everything she is feeling to Bucky, basically doubling his pleasure"

Summary: After ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, one bed trope, unprotected sex, hate sex, dirty talking, praise, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 9.3k

A/N: I fucking LOVED this prompt yet I feel like my (4th) attempt at it is as horseshit as the other attempts. This may get another attempt one day. Thank you @kateversca1011 for the wonderful prompt inspo, I hope this entertains you at least a little bit.

You have the worst luck in the world. In fact, your luck is so bad that you might even be able to call it a curse. It was one of those unfortunate things that started early in your life and has carried on throughout the years, affecting seemingly everything that you do. You thought it came to a head when your hometown was obliterated twelve years ago, when your parents were killed as they lay asleep in their bed across the house that you grew up in. You thought that was the pinnacle of your misfortune. Then, you thought that maybe it was two days after that, when you were sure you were being rescued from the rubble you laid under, only to be taken away by soldiers with unmatchable strength and brutality and stripped of not only your rights, but your dignity. You were held captive for so long that you stopped attributing your dark times to bad luck and started to think this was how life was supposed to be. By the time they started experimenting on you, you didn’t even feel bad for yourself anymore. You simply accepted it as the next era of your life that you had no control over.

“Okay, we’re all done.” Shuri’s voice rings out through the speaker in the MRI machine. The flat surface that you’ve been lying on for the past forty-five minutes begins to slide out of the narrow tube it held you in, slowly exposing the rest of the room to your view. You take a deep breath in, stretching your arms out in front of you and wiggling your legs a little. Your lower half always falls asleep when you have these scans done.

Shuri watches you intently through the glass of the MRI observation window. She watches as the nurse helps you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the tabletop. She watches as you run a hand through your hair and offer the nurse a kind smile before moving to stand on the floor. She watches as your eyes narrow in the slightest and a look of surprise crosses your face. She knows what you just did. She knows that the moment the nurse was in your personal space, you had no control over the unusual chemistry of your brain. You invaded the nurse’s mind and picked up on the fact that she’s afraid of you.

“She’s not ready to go free yet, is she?” Fury asks tersely. He entered the observation room so silently that Shuri didn’t even notice him until he spoke. As the nurse leads you out of the MRI room and begins taking you back to the main area of the medical bay, Shuri turns in her chair to face Fury.

“She doesn’t have enough control over her abilities yet. I think she’s still psychologically stable, the program you put her through did its job, but there’s no guarantee that she’ll simply go out into the world and behave.” Shuri chooses her words carefully. She doesn’t think that you’re a threat in your current state, but should you ever desire to be, you could easily become one. Your powers rival those of Wanda Maximoff’s, except even less is known about the extent of yours thus far. You’re the equivalent of the Winter Soldier without anyone having used his activation words yet, a ticking time bomb.

That’s what leads to Shuri and Fury both addressing you in the medical bay moments later. You sit on an exam table picking at a loose thread in your frayed jeans as they approach you, trying your hardest not to read into their thoughts, their feelings. You’d like to experience what it’s like to be surprised by what comes out of someone’s mouth for once.

“That was your last fMRI for a while.” Shuri says happily, her smile looking truly genuine. You smile back, but continue picking at the thread, not wanting to make any prolonged eye contact. Eye contact always seems to make it easier to read people, and easier for your own thoughts and emotions to spill over into their consciousness if you’re not careful.

“I’m guessing there isn’t all good news though, right? Since you’re both here this time.” You ask knowingly, your gaze darting between the two who stand before you. Shuri gives Fury a sideways glance, as if she’s waiting for him to take the lead. His eye narrows at you, his forehead scrunching up above his eyepatch as he studies you.

“We can’t let you go out and live your life just yet. There are too many unknowns right now. I’m going to be putting you up in the Avengers tower.”

“But—” Fury holds up his hand to silence you, as if you’re a backtalking teenager.

“It’s not permanent. This is just until we can help you gain more control over your abilities. We can reassess after. When you’re finished here, I’ll have someone waiting outside to take you over to the other side of the compound and show you around.” Fury’s gone before his words have even fully sunk in.

“He’s a straight-to-the-point kind of guy, isn’t he? No bullshit with him.” You say quietly, shaking your head as you come to terms with everything he’s just said. You’ve been staying in what you can only call a high-end holding cell at the nearby SHIELD base since the day you appeared on their radar and they brought you in, very much against your will. Another bout of bad luck, you’d told yourself, as you were restrained with some sort of technologically advanced handcuffs and later forcibly put through multiple rigorous evaluations. After the evaluations came the decompression and psychological rehabilitation that they had originally designed to be used for victims of capture and torture, agents who were in too deep and didn’t have backup when the worst happened. After that, you started undergoing medical testing, constant scans and blood draws, on a weekly basis. Shuri was brought in because no one else could figure you out.

“It’s the eye patch, he has to be short and gruff with people to fit the look.” Shuri jokes. She stands closer to you than most people would, within arms’ reach. You offer a light laugh and she considers it a small victory. “I think you’ll find that living in the tower, around other people with unique abilities, might actually help you. You’ll get a really nice room too, probably nicer than just about anywhere else you’d find in the city.”

“A nice room that I never get to leave.” You point out. Shuri’s gaze softens and she looks you over. Most people wouldn’t look at you and see a bomb that hasn’t yet been detonated. Hell, you could probably weaponize that fact if you wanted to, the fact that you look normal, innocent even.

“You can leave your room, but I think it’s best if you don’t get too close with anyone, physically or emotionally. Give yourself some time to learn boundaries when it comes to your abilities first.” Shuri advises. She notices the way you take in her entire appearance as she speaks, but you avoid looking into her eyes. You’re trying to give her mind the privacy it deserves. You’re making an effort to stay out of her thoughts, and to keep from projecting your own onto her. She thinks that you’ll get the hang of the control thing soon enough, and Fury will either free you to go about your new life or he’ll make an attempt to recruit you as an asset. Only time will tell which direction you’ll go, but she finds herself hoping that this won’t be the last she sees of you.

---

Bucky’s heard about the girl who reads minds, the girl who can make others feel her pain, the girl who could take away someone’s mental anguish with just one shared look. He’s heard enough about that girl that he formed his own mental image of her. He pictures her as an evil cartoon witch, with long, dark fingernails that curl up at the ends and a characteristic black and purple outfit, maybe even flying around on a broom. When he heard that this cartoon witch would be moving into the empty room across the hall from his, he imagined cardboard boxes filled with crystal balls, spiders, and cobwebs being dropped off before the girl’s arrival.

Bucky didn’t think for a second that you’d show up so quietly and uneventfully, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. He didn’t think you’d show up with nothing more than a small, government-issued duffel bag and a profound avoidance of eye contact. And he sure as hell didn’t think that you’d end up being so goddamn pretty. As you stood in the lobby of the tower with Maria Hill and two other SHIELD agents, Bucky was just getting back from a therapy session with Dr. Raynor. He saw you as you stood there with your duffel bag and blank stare aimed at a wall. He saw you as you made sure to board the elevator last, letting everyone else enter before you and then staying a few steps behind on your way in. You saw him as the doors began to slide shut. You caught one little glimpse of the man, dressed in dark jeans and a dark Henley tee. Unreasonably attractive. That was your first impression of him, as the doors closed and he disappeared from your sight.

An hour later, you’re sitting alone in your new room, carefully folding and putting away the few pieces of clothing you brought with you. Your wardrobe consists of a couple of pairs of jeans, a sweatshirt or two, and the same pair of sneakers you always wear. Or at least that’s what it consisted of until today. When you arrived to the room and finally had the chance to shut Maria and the other agents out and settle yourself in, you quickly realized that Tony Stark, or more his wife Pepper, had taken it upon their shoulders to have your closet filled with a wide range of pants, shorts, dresses, workout attire, and far too many shoes for someone with only two feet. You thought it was a mistake at first, that maybe you’d been given the wrong key to the wrong room. Until you saw a white envelope sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. It contained the only note you’d ever received from anyone, detailing how all of the items in the closet now belong to you, and were picked out by Pepper upon Tony’s request. As you stand in the closet now, running your fingers along the various fabrics and colors hanging in front of you, it feels as though every birthday that you missed out on celebrating after your parents’ deaths and your own capture are being celebrated in this moment.

---

Bucky sits in one of the briefing rooms with Sam and Torres, only half-listening to whatever they’re droning on about as he traces the golden crevices of his vibranium arm with his flesh index finger. He doesn’t chime in at all as the topic shifts from one of last week’s missions, to a piece of intel Torres intercepted yesterday, to the mission that could potentially be coming up at the end of this week. It isn’t until Torres brings up the girl that just moved in upstairs that Bucky’s flesh hand falters and his eyes flit up to take in the image that’s holographically displayed over the table in the center of the room.

“I gathered as much information on her as I could.” Torres says, as he begins flipping through a few different files on the display. He stops on one titled First Event. When he opens the electronic file, Bucky’s heart drops instantly at the words his brain sorts through and picks out. Terrorist attack. Intentional target. Orphaned. HYDRA. He swallows hard when the picture of your childhood home, completely reduced to smoking ash and rubble, appears before him. Another picture shows a small girl, seemingly around age eleven or twelve, covered in soot and dirt, with her hands bound in front of her as she’s being lifted and placed in the back of a truck. “She was taken by HYDRA operatives when she was 12. It was an operation with the sole aim of taking twenty children, disguising the entire thing as a brutal terrorist attack. The missing children were all presumed dead in the attacks, which was what HYDRA wanted. There was never an investigation for any of them.” A few pictures show a grimy prison-like holding cell, an operating room with different pieces of technology and equipment that definitely aren’t standard in normal medical facilities, and a few brain scans. “All of the twenty children underwent testing and experimentation. Some died within a couple of weeks, some within a couple of months. She was the only one to survive to be rescued. She lived in this underground HYDRA facility for at least ten years that we know of.”

“Ten years?” Sam asks incredulously, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “How did she end up on SHIELD’s radar?” Torres pauses his biography of the worst years of your life and opens up a different file on the display, one titled Second Event.

“Skipping the details of how she was rescued in the first place, she doesn’t have much control over her abilities. She tried to lay low, that much was obvious, but SHIELD has a program to seek people like her out, to keep an eye on them.” Torres explains. Bucky’s eyes are glued to an image of the girl he saw in the elevator only an hour ago. You’re at an outdoor farmer’s market, with a ballcap pulled low over your forehead and your gaze cast downward as you browse a fruit stand. The image is eerily similar to a moment of his own life that he remembers, buying plums at a Romanian market when he was trying to go unnoticed and live a quiet life on his own.

“So, she made a misstep somewhere along the way, becomes property of SHIELD, and then Fury sends her here.” Sam recaps, looking to Torres to make sure he’s got it all right.

“Pretty much, yeah. He doesn’t think it’s safe to let her be out in the real world on her own yet.”

“Not safe for her? Or not safe for everyone else?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. Bucky turns his attention to Torres this time as well, curious about the answer.

“Both.”

A few more details are shared around the table as Torres flips back and forth between all of the available information that he has on you. Bucky, however, is deep in thought. He watches as new and old images flit back and forth on the screen, his mind digesting everything and piecing you together. You’re pretty, that’s for damn certain. You’re pretty and he can tell from your past, from your known abilities, that you’re likely good as hell at manipulating people. He imagines with your looks alone that you could get just about anyone to do just about anything for you. With your looks and your abilities? You could do more damage than most. You’re dangerous. Dangerous and unpredictable. And now you live across the hall from him.

Those two words repeat in Bucky’s head as he takes the stairs up to the main living floor later that same day. Dangerous and unpredictable. There are a few more words floating around in his head but he’s actively ignoring those. So goddamn pretty.

You really are pretty. You wouldn’t necessarily think so yourself, as you stand in front of the full-length mirror in your room, crossing your arms over your chest. FRIDAY’s voice rang out through a speaker somewhere in your room just a few minutes earlier, letting you know that dinner would be at six. Of course, FRIDAY didn’t offer you a dress code or even a very solid answer when you asked her what one should wear to such a dinner. The last time you had dinner with anyone, you were twelve and you were wearing a sparkly pink Barbie shirt. Though you could double check your closet for a shirt like that now, you have a feeling you won’t find one in your size. So, you remain in your distressed jeans and oversized gray SHIELD sweatshirt.

“Do you think she’ll show up?” Torres asks, mainly directing his question to Sam more than anyone else. Sam shrugs as he continues stirring the spaghetti sauce he’s been cooking on the stovetop.

“If she’s hungry she will.” He responds. Truthfully, he has no idea if you’ll come out of your room or not. If you don’t, he’ll take a bowl of food to your room at the very least, but he’d prefer it if you came out and interacted with everyone so he could at least get a feel for you. It was obvious by the way Bucky sat so narrow-eyed and steely in the briefing room earlier that he doesn’t like you, that he doesn’t trust you being in the tower. Sam hasn’t yet jumped to such a conclusion.

“What do we do if she does? If she shows up?” Torres almost sounds nervous. Sam chuckles before propping his wooden spoon on the edge of the saucepan and moving to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.

“We eat dinner.”

---

You don’t look like a scared, vulnerable twelve-year-old girl, and you most definitely don’t look like someone who has the power to manipulate thoughts or feelings. As you sit at the table, twirling spaghetti noodles around your fork, you’re trying your best to ignore the eyes on you. You feel a bit relieved that it’s not the entire group staring, no, it’s just that one unreasonably attractive man with the black and gold prosthetic arm. He stares. He stares as if it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Honestly, maybe it really is the only thing he knows how to do, because he sure as hell hasn’t participated in any of the table small talk this evening.

“So, you were just laying low before SHIELD found you?” Torres asks kindly, tearing apart a piece of garlic bread with his hands as he peers over at you. He’s seated immediately to your right and has been the most inquisitive thus far.

“Yeah, clearly I wasn’t very good at that though.” You respond lightheartedly, earning you a few small laughs around the table. You lift your fork to your mouth and take a small bite of pasta. It’s heavenly honestly. It’s so much better than the measly three meals that you’ve taught yourself how to cook.

“How do you feel about ending up here?” Torres is a curious one, you’re quickly learning.

“I’m not over the moon about it but the food is better than what I was cooking for myself so, it’s not all bad.”

As you answer questions and do your best to avoid making too much eye contact with anyone, to avoid reading into anyone’s thoughts or dropping your own thoughts into anyone else’s mind, Bucky stares. He watches you intently. You’re effortlessly charming, answering everyone’s questions with a shy smile and kind voice. He’s sure it’s a façade.

Bucky’s cold stare and the fact that you happily pretend like you don’t feel his gaze on you is the reason why Sam, at the end of dinner, stands up and assigns the two of you to clean-up duty. If Bucky’s gone ahead and jumped to a conclusion about you based on a few flimsy pieces of intel and some grainy pictures, then Sam will give him the opportunity to confirm his suspicions with half an hour of alone time with you. Either he’ll come out of clean-up duty realizing he was wrong about you or he’ll come out of it with an earful for Sam.

Fifteen minutes after everyone’s finished eating and gone their separate ways for the evening, you find yourself wiping down the dinner table with a wet cloth. Bucky is watching you from the open concept kitchen, where he stands in dim lighting, scrubbing dishes at the sink.

“I can feel you staring.” You say evenly. Though your back is to him, you know his eyes are following your every move. He sets a soapy bowl down in the empty side of the sink and gets to work on another, still watching as you lean over the table and scrub over the wooden surface. He says nothing. Daring a glance over your shoulder at him, you catch sight of his blue eyes, cold and calculating as they stare right back at you. That’s the moment you feel it, a wall around him, around his mind. As you look into his eyes, you can’t get even the slightest reading on his feelings, on his thoughts. His mind is impenetrable.

You quickly look away and continue wiping down the surface of the table. What the hell was that? You’ve never been around anyone you couldn’t read before. Bucky sets another soapy dish into the right side of the sink and lets his gaze fall away from you for a moment. Did you look into his thoughts? Did you see what most people see when they look at him? A monster, an uncontrollable killer? He’s patiently waiting for you to flee, to run and lock yourself in your room after analyzing whatever you just saw in his mind. However, different thought is crossing your mind. You want to try again, to get closer to him and get a better sense of the wall you felt around him. You push a couple of chairs into their rightful places beneath the table and then look over at Bucky again as he works on the dishes. His blue eyes meet yours once more and there it is again, that wall. Before you lose your boldness, you begin walking toward the kitchen, your feet carrying you closer and closer until you’re only a foot away from Bucky’s right side. He acts uninterested and his focus remains on a dirty dish and a sponge in his hands. Your eyes dart down to the sink and you notice the clean, soapy dishes in the side closest to you. Before you realize what you’re doing, your left arm is brushing against his right arm as you start rinsing the dishes beneath a steady stream of hot water. Bucky tenses next to you the moment the sleeve of your sweatshirt brushes over the skin of his bicep.

“Are you scared of me?” You ask softly, keeping your eyes down on the suds that are running off of the bowl in your hand. You watch as they swirl around in the bottom of the sink before disappearing down the drain. Bucky scoffs and a low chuckle slips past his lips.

“Scared isn’t the word I’d use.” He says coldly, passing you another dish to rinse.

“Then why do you stare at me like that?” You question, matching his cold tone.

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m going to try to get in your head.”

“Haven’t you done that already?” Another dish is passed over to you. The hot water is turning your hands pink, and the frustrating interaction with such an unreasonably attractive ass is turning your cheeks the same color.

“If I had, you would’ve known.” You point out, turning your head to look up at the side of his face. He doesn’t turn to meet your gaze at first, so you study his features. There’s a light stubble peppered along his lower face, over his jawline and chin. He looks young but something about him gives off more of an old soul vibe.

“You don’t have enough control over your abilities to be able to read someone without them knowing?” His tone has shifted from a cold one to a condescending one.

“I do, but I don’t care to put in any effort to hide it when I’m reading someone who already knows I can do it. I wouldn’t put in that kind of effort for you.” You retort. You’re unsure where exactly the animosity came from, but you feel it. It’s palpable in the air, the way the two of you already dislike each other. Bucky’s glad you’re returning the sentiment honestly. It’ll make it so much easier to ignore the fact that you’re fucking gorgeous. Gorgeous and pure poison.

---

The update Fury left his house at four in the morning for wasn’t at all the update he was expecting. When his assistant called and told him that there was a new development with the girl he put up in the tower, the girl that HYDRA had experimented on and practically raised with the goal of having her become weapon of mass psychological destruction, he expected to hear that you’d done something apprehensible. Maybe you’d turned the other occupants of the tower against each other and caused a modern-day civil war, maybe you’d figured out a way to level the tower entirely, he had no idea. It wasn’t until five minutes ago when he finally slid into his office chair and viewed the new intel that he felt a bit of relief, and yet a new kind of stress. HYDRA wants you back.

---

No one stays in the tower on the weekends. Sam heads off to see family, Wanda and Vision jet away for weekend stays seemingly anywhere but here, and even Torres has plans. You assume Bucky is gone too, considering you haven’t heard anyone else around since you last saw Sam leaving at sunset.

As you sit comfortably on the couch in the living area, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks, you feel almost at home for once. You’re flipping through the various movie options on Netflix when you hear the elevator ding and the doors begin sliding open. You freeze with your thumb hovering over the remote in your hand as your eyes slowly drift to the left. Bucky Barnes. Of course he doesn’t have any weekend plans. Why would he? The man is practically insufferable anytime he opens his mouth. He shoots you an uninterested look as he steps into the living area and starts pulling his leather jacket off.

Fuck. He’s the one freezing in place when his gaze floats down to your lap and he notices the skin of your thighs. He tosses his leather jacket onto the opposite side of the couch and narrows his eyes at you before moving toward the kitchen for a bottle of water.

“You don’t have pants?” He asks, his disdain for you evident in his tone.

“I was held in captivity for over a decade, what are pants?” He hates when you’re sarcastic.

“Fine, no pants. But you have a TV in your room, don’t you?” He wants you locked away in there where he won’t even have the chance to let his eyes betray the rest of him.

“Are you going to be here all weekend?” You turn your body so you can see him over the back of the couch. You lock eyes with him as he takes a gulp from his water bottle. He notices the way your gaze drifts downward, focusing on his lips for a brief moment before trailing even further down to the tight shirt he’s wearing.

“Yep.” He puts emphasis on the ‘p’ at the end of the small, simple word.

“Do you like movies?” An olive branch, you’re extending an olive branch. If you’re stuck with him as your only company for the next 48 hours, you sure as hell aren’t going to make it easy for him to hate you. Why make yourself any more miserable? In the event that it does that opposite and makes him hate you even more, you’ll still feel like you won.

Your question caught Bucky off guard. You turn to face the TV once again and he watches as you use the remote to rifle through a category titled Action Movies.

“I prefer books.” He says flatly.

“If you can get over yourself for two hours, you could watch something with me. It’s up to you.”

You didn’t expect him to go for it, in fact, you don’t even know if you actually wanted him to. At first, you thought he rejected the offer. He scooped his leather jacket up off of the couch, shot you an unreadable sideways glance, and disappeared into his room, locking the door behind him. You’ve just decided on a movie when Bucky reappears, wearing black sweats and stupidly, only his dog tags adorning his chest. When he comes into view, your eyes immediately wander, taking in the entirety of his build. Fuck. How does someone who acts like such an ass end up looking like such a god? Bucky notices the way your gaze settles just above his waistband and he can’t stop the smirk that takes over his features.

“You don’t have a shirt?” You ask, mimicking his tone from earlier.

“I was held in captivity for decades, what is a shirt?” He didn’t quite mean to let you in on his past, but there it is. You sit before him stunned, your widened eyes dropping down to look over his vibranium arm with a new understanding. “You really haven’t been in my mind, have you?” You shake your head, still unsure of what to say to him. Bucky solves the issue at hand by taking a few more steps forward and sinking into the couch one cushion away from you. “What are we watching?”

---

Shit goes sideways really fast in your life. You were only half an hour into the movie when the power suddenly went out and the dim emergency lights in the hallway kicked on. You and Bucky froze and looked at each other with a mix of confusion and anticipation, both of you feeling that something was off. It was less than a second later when Bucky heard the commotion in the elevator shaft and he knew exactly what was coming. He was on top of you in an instant, forcing your back down on the couch before rolling the both of you off and onto the floor. He managed a second roll once you landed on top of him on the hardwood, making sure that when the movement stopped, you were securely underneath him and his body was shielding yours. You watched his face as he seemed to move on autopilot, reaching up to the coffee table and breaking a glass vase with one hand before using the shards of glass to deter the two men rappelling in through the now blown-in elevator doors. It all happened so fast, seeming to begin and end in all under 10 seconds, before Bucky was shoving you down the hallway toward the emergency stairwell.

He led you down four flights before pulling you through another metal door, into yet another dimly lit hallway. When you were both safely tucked away in a briefing room, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweats and called Sam, setting it on speaker and placing the device on the table in the center of the room. Now you stand still, frozen, unsure of why you feel almost nothing. No fear, no concern, nothing. You simply feel like you have no control over anything and there’s nothing you can do to help or hurt the current situation. When Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the table, lifting you by your hips to sit you on top of it, you don’t resist.

“Are you okay?” He asks hurriedly, scanning your entire body with his eyes as his hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head from side to side. He’s looking for any sign of injury, but there’s nothing. “Say something.”

“Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam’s voice rings out from the phone on the table, snapping you out of whatever silent haze you were in.

“The tower’s been breached, we need to get out of here, now.” Bucky responds tersely. He still holds your face in his hands. You blink a few times, coming back to your senses, before looking up into his eyes. Relief. You see relief soaking into his features as he realizes you’re fine. “You’re okay?” He needs to hear you say it. You nod slowly, his palms brushing over your cheeks as you do.

“I’m good, I’m okay.” You whisper.

“Can you get down to the garage?” Sam questions. You can hear the sounds of him typing through the phone, probably sending out an alert to everyone he can.

“We’ll figure out a way to.” Bucky assures him.

“I’ll send you an address for a safehouse, you take her there and you stay put. Let me know when you get into a car. Fury says a strike team is already on the way.”

So much for living in the tower being the way to keep you safe.

---

You wouldn’t have expected such a broad, muscular guy to be so stealthy. Bucky got the two of you down to the garage and into a car in what you imagine was record-breaking time. It truly would’ve been a feat if he’d managed to get back upstairs and grab you some pants or himself a shirt as well, but you can see how that wasn’t really an option.

You sit in the passenger seat now, using his phone to text Sam and let him know that you made it out safe and are on the way to the address he sent. It’s quiet in the car for a couple of minutes, the only sounds being the tires against the road and a light rain coming down on the windshield as Bucky speeds down a dark highway. You set his phone in a cupholder by the gearshift before placing your hands on your still bare thighs. In this moment, you wish you could read into Bucky’s thoughts. What’s going on in his head? Does he have any idea who those men might’ve been? What they might’ve been there for? You don’t want to come across as conceited or self-centered but you’re pretty damn sure they were there for you, most likely on behalf of HYDRA. Maybe if you could read into his thoughts, he’d have a different suspicion and it would ease your growing anxiety.

“Is that the first time the tower’s ever been breached?” Your voice comes out too soft, too meek for your own liking. Bucky lets out a deep breath before relaxing in the driver’s seat. He wanted to hear your voice more than he realized.

“As far as I know, yeah.” He says with a nod, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. That isn’t quite what you wanted to hear. Maybe something along the lines of oh no, it happened a hundred times before you moved in would’ve made you feel better. Bucky doesn’t like the quiet that takes over the car after he gives you his answer. It feels tense, and not your typical can’t-stand-each-other kind of tense. “There are a million different reasons they could’ve been there.” He knows what you’re thinking, that they were more than likely there for you.

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better.” Your voice isn’t so soft anymore.

“You think they were there for you.”

“It makes the most sense, HYDRA has never really been known to let shit go.”

“I know.” He says it so emotionlessly but the way the realization settles on your shoulders is anything but. You feel what can only be described as a fist wrapping around your heart and squeezing it. He knows. He knows about HYDRA, he knows how they operate. He knows because he’s been through their shit, probably even more intensely than you.

“I don’t have any pants.” You mumble, pushing away the heavy topic of the most heinous organization that you know to exist. Bucky chuckles under his breath as he steers the car around a curve. He finds you annoyingly likable for someone he’s intent on hating.

When you pull up to the safehouse forty-five minutes later, you’re more than relieved to see that though it’s a very small cabin on the outskirts of a national park, there are two bedrooms. After checking in with Sam on the phone, you leave Bucky in the living room while you wander down the short hallway, trying to decide which bedroom you’ll be calling your own tonight.

“Did you take me off of speaker?” Sam asks Bucky in a hushed tone, praying you’re out of earshot. Bucky sinks into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his vibranium hand.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“She was the target tonight. HYDRA wants her back. They don’t want her dead, they want her back.”

“And you didn’t want to say this to her?” Bucky asks in a whisper.

“She probably has PTSD from what they did to her all of those years, there’s no sense in upsetting her if we don’t have to yet. For now, as long as she’s safe with you, we don’t have to tell her.” Sam explains quickly. Bucky can hear the din of an airport coming through the phone speaker. Sam’s trying his best to get back to New York on short notice, which tells Bucky it’s definitely serious.

“She already has her suspicions.” Bucky points out. He glances over his shoulder and down the hall, just as you’re stepping out of one bedroom and into the next.

“Just…don’t let her out of your sight. At all.”

Bucky stays seated on the couch for a few seconds after hanging up the call with Sam. His mind is speed running through the various outcomes of this whole situation. There’s a chance HYDRA already knows about the safehouse and they’re planning to hit it sometime tonight. There’s a chance HYDRA doesn’t know shit about where the two of you are right now and you’re safe at least while you’re here. There’s a chance you get pissed at Bucky and climb out a window in the middle of the night. Fuck. How did he end up being the one here with you?

You’re rummaging through a dresser in the largest bedroom at the back of the cabin when Bucky taps his knuckles on the already open door and steps in. You’re on your knees, digging through the bottom drawer, with your hair falling forward and obscuring your face from him. His eyes follow every move you make as you tuck the hair behind your ear and glance over at him.

“Is this where you’re sleeping?” He asks, tilting his head in the direction of the queen-sized bed. You follow his gaze, taking in the thin blue quilt and sad, flat looking pillows. You nod slowly.

“Yeah.” You respond, pushing the drawer shut and rising to your feet. You were looking for an extra pair of pants but the dresser only seemed to hold various extra blankets, sheets, and towels. Bucky nods, his eyes drifting back to the bed as if he’s deep in thought. When he tosses his phone onto the bed, you narrow your eyes at him. “I said I’m taking this one.”

“We both are.” He says defiantly, taking a step further into the room before closing the bedroom door behind him. He fishes the car keys out of his pocket and drops them on top of the dresser before heading for the bed.

“What the hell does that mean? There are two rooms, two beds. There isn’t a chance in hell we’re sleeping together.” You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head aggressively. You watch him as he starts pulling the covers back on the far side of the bed.

“You just told me that you think those men were there for you. If you’re right, those guys were able to breach the equivalent of a maximum-security prison on steroids. And you want to sleep alone? In a room with a window?” He questions you as if he doesn’t already know that those men were most definitely there for you. He sees hesitation in your eyes, and he knows he’s got you there. You crave safety, security. You won’t fight him very hard on this and he knows it.

“I’m not wearing any pants.” As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, you’re aware that you sound like a damn kid. A whiny kid.

“I’ll give you my pants if you shut up about it already.” Bucky promises. He stands next to the bed, with his hands firmly on his hips, waiting to see what your next move will be.

“Fine, give me your pants and I’ll suffer through the night.”

“In this bed?” He gestures toward it with his vibranium hand. You nod. “Say it.”

“In this bed.” You agree, with every bit of a bad attitude brimming your tone.

It’s not long after that that you find yourself wearing another man’s baggy sweats as you lay mere inches away from him. He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat warming the space beneath the covers, but not so close that there’s a threat of bodily contact.

Bucky’s wide awake beside you. He’s watching in the darkness as the quilt over your side rises up and then drops down again with every inhale and exhale. He usually has trouble sleeping, but knowing exactly who’s after you and what they’re capable of is giving him even more trouble.

“Are you still awake?” You whisper almost inaudibly. You’re facing away from Bucky so you didn’t notice the way he’s been staring at your back, watching you breathe.

“Yeah.” You’re silent for quite a few seconds after his response, but he knows your mind is working overtime. “What?”

“Nothing, I was just wondering.” Another minute of silence goes by before you roll onto your back and heave a deep sigh. Bucky waits patiently. He counts the seconds as they go by. One. Two. Three. Four. F— “If you weren’t there tonight—”

“Don’t think about that.” He warns. His eyes coast over the side of your face. He can see the worry, the stress playing on your features.

“But if you weren’t, I would’ve ended right back where I was.” You voice trembles in the slightest, and you hope he doesn’t notice it. He notices. Bucky’s fists clench beneath the bedsheets.

“You don’t even know if it was them, or if they were after you.” You roll over to face him now and he can see the tears gathering in your eyes, glinting in the moonlight from the window.

“I know.” You say assuredly, without a trace of doubt behind your words. Bucky knows he can’t lie to you, he can’t convince you that you didn’t nearly end up back in HYDRA’s clutches tonight. He can’t lie to you, and he won’t.

“Do you feel safe right now? Here?” He asks, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard it before. You search his face before answering with a small nod. “Focus on that. Don’t work yourself up over what could’ve happened. Just rest tonight and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“I’m already worked up, I can’t sleep.”

“I gave you my pants for you to lie here all night and not sleep?” He asks jokingly. You move your leg under the covers and kick his shin lightly. When you start to pull your leg back to your side of the bed, something stops you.

“Do you want them back?” You offer. Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, unsure of where you’re going with this. It’s as if the playfulness of the moment is erasing the fear and stress in your mind, so you go with it. “I’ll give them back.”

“So, all of that complaining about not having pants was what? An attempt to get me out of mine?” Bucky teases. He props his head up on one hand over his pillow, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

“You gave in pretty easily, didn’t you? I think you wanted to take them off.” You retort, nudging his leg with yours again. Bucky licks his bottom lip as he gauges the tension growing between the two of you. Is this what you do to help you fall asleep? To test the waters, he places a hand right above the knee of the leg you keep nudging him with. It’s as if his touch sets off an electric spark, you feel it dancing from your knee all the way up to your chest and then right back down. The feeling settles between your legs.

“I was doing you a favor.” He rasps, rubbing light circles on your leg with his thumb. “And I was trying to shut you up.” Silence is becoming familiar between the two of you. You look at him for a long moment, mesmerized by the way his thumb is circling against the fabric of the sweats that he gave you. You find yourself staring first into his eyes, and then at his lips. You’d ask yourself what the hell you’re thinking but, let’s be honest: you’re not thinking.

“Would you do me one more favor?”

“What’s that?” Bucky asks as his hand inches a bit further up your thigh.

“Shut me up.”

---

There are a thousand reasons Bucky can think of to not be doing exactly what he’s doing right now. A thousand reasons to not be sucking on your bottom lip and grinding his erection against your clothed cunt. Maybe even a thousand and one reasons not to be absolutely fucking loving every second of it. But every filthy little moan and whimper that graces his ears only spurs him on. He’s doing you a favor, right?

“This isn’t really shutting you up.” You can feel his smirk against the skin of your neck as he slows the movement of his hips and begins grinding against you at a tortuously useless pace. “Maybe we should try it with the sweats out of the way, see if that shuts you up.”

“Yeah, that’s an idea.” The words come out breathlessly. You place your hands against Bucky’s shoulders and push him off of you. He returns to his side of the bed, trying to calm himself down as you lay beside him and shimmy out of his sweats. As far as he knows, that’s all you’re taking off. But in a moment of boldness, you decided to speed things up a bit and take your panties off with them. When you glance over and see him lying on his back, with the moonlight highlighting the sweat that glistens over the ridges of his abs, all you can think about is him. Being on him, being under him, you need him. He looks back at you with a daring look and you’re sold, you’re straddling his hips, hovering right over his boxers in an instant.

Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat when his flesh palm lands against your hip, just beneath the fabric of your t-shirt, and he only feels skin. Where’s the waistband of your panties? You see the surprise on his face as he grips your hips tighter, keeping you from sitting down and fulling straddling him.

“I thought I said try it with the sweats out of the way.” He tsks playfully. You have no idea how badly he wants to rip his boxers off and plunge his cock so deep inside you that you scream.

“Oops, I must’ve misheard you.” Your mischievous smile makes his cock harden that last little bit, and he can feel the way his balls begin aching to be emptied. He fucking hates you for making him feel this way.

“I should’ve known that being a good girl and listening wasn’t going to be your thing.” He says with a shake of his head. You’re about to say something else teasing and sarcastic when Bucky’s fingers dig into your hips sharply, surely leaving bruises, and he forces you to sit down across the hard shaft of his cock. Your wet cunt instantly soaks the fabric of his boxers and within two seconds, he can feel how wet you really are for him. For him. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you. He has to remind himself repeatedly as you begin circling your hips, because he fears he’s quickly forgetting that fact. You grind down with a little more pressure and he can feel a bead of precum slipping down the head of his cock. A soft groan slips out of him and he starts pushing your t-shirt up higher and higher until he’s pulling it over your head. The pale moonlight is just enough to let him see your bare chest and again, he’s chanting in his head. He hates you. He’s just doing this to make you feel better, to get your mind off of the HYDRA shit so you can sleep tonight. That’s all it is, right? A favor. As you lean down and start kissing and sucking on the skin of his neck, he feels your fingertips slowly dragging his boxers down by the waistband. He hates you.

At some point, Bucky helped you get his boxers all the way down his legs and he kicked them off and away until they were lost beneath the mess of sheets and blankets atop the bed. When your hand fisted around his cock the first time, he rutted into your hand without meaning to. It was like instinct. You wrapped your fist around him a little tighter and pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss as he thrusted into your hand a second time, letting his precum wet your palm and then using it as lube. You would’ve been satisfied letting him fuck your hand, honestly. You probably could’ve orgasmed just from that experience alone, but you didn’t need him knowing you were that easy for him. That’s what got you to where you are now,

“I hate you.” You lie straight through your teeth as you drag your cunt back and forth along the length of his cock. Every time the head of it rubs against your clit, Bucky can feel your thighs tremble on either side of him and he’s fighting the urge to bend you over the bed and ruin you.

“I hate you too.” He lies right back. When you look into each other’s eyes, you both know there isn’t much truth coming from either of your mouths. “Sit on my cock.”

Never have you ever been one to listen when a man tells you what to do, until this moment, with Bucky Barnes. He watches as you position the head of his cock just right at your entrance. You’d think a man would want to watch as his entire length disappears inside of you, but no. Bucky looks up at your face as soon as the tip notches inside you. He watches with heavy breaths and groans falling from his lips as your mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ shape and your eyes scrunch closed at the way your walls stretch to fit him in.

“That’s it, don’t stop until you take it all.” Filthy. He’s fucking filthy. And you listen to every word he says, sinking down until you feel his balls pressing firmly against your ass. “Shit.” When he finally tears his eyes away from your face and gets a look at where you’re so deeply connected, he can’t fucking stand it. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. “You have to move.” He groans, slipping his flesh hand further back from your hip to grab your ass.

“I can’t.” You whimper, leaning forward and bracing your hands on the mattress, on either side of his head.

“Move or get off of my cock.” You’d almost be offended if you didn’t know that he’s saying that because he’s close to blowing his load in you too early. You can feel the way his balls are tightening against your ass and you know he’s desperate. So, you try. You lift yourself up one single inch, and then slide back down. Then two inches, then back down. You repeat it over and over slowly, building up a rhythm as your own pleasure begins to grow. “Fuck, maybe you’re a good listener after all.”

“Stop talking.” You moan out, picking up the pace. You’re fully fucking his cock now, your bodies making obscene sounds as skin slaps against skin repeatedly. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, hate me a little more and see what that gets you.” He taunts, squeezing your ass with both hands and using his grasp there to help guide the up and down movement of your hips. You’re close and truthfully, you don’t even want to tell him.

The trouble really starts when he moves his flesh hand to your lower stomach and presses his thumb against your clit, offering a delicious friction there as you ride his dick. The increase in pleasure makes it even harder to think straight. You’re not thinking straight in the slightest when you move your hands to his chest, not paying attention to the fact that you have one hand over his heart.

“I’m close.” You whimper, earning you another squeeze of your ass with his vibranium hand and a bit more pressure against your clit. Your eyes are shut tightly as you focus on the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls and the tip of it nearing your cervix with every snap of your hips.

When you open your eyes and look down at him, his blue eyes flit up to meet yours and that’s when you realize the mistake you’ve made. He starts rubbing circles against your clit the moment your eyes meet, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes in like a tidal wave, sweeping and relentless. With your hands on Bucky’s bare chest and your eyes locked, you lose the last shred of control you have, the last morsel of control over your abilities slips from your grasp. He feels it. Bucky feels every bit of pleasure that’s coursing through your body, he feels every thought in your mind, he hears your inner voice screaming for him. In the heat of the moment, you pour every sensation that you’re feeling straight into Bucky’s nervous system.

He can’t even speak as his orgasm hits ten times harder than it ever has before. He knows it’s coming from the eye contact and your hand on his chest, he can feel the uncharacteristic coolness beneath your palm that rests over his heart. It’s why he clamps his own hand over yours on his chest and uses his vibranium arm to wrap around your back and pull you down against him. As Bucky’s cum paints your walls, filling you so full that it starts dripping down his shaft, he can’t stop thrusting up into you. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

“Bucky, I’m…” You suck in a deep breath as you collapse on his chest, though he keeps your hand anchored over his heart. “I’m full, I can’t…” He shushes you as he continues pushing his cock up into your pussy. He slows but doesn’t stop.

“Don’t move.” He’s begging. Though his tone doesn’t sound like it, he’s fully aware that that’s what he’s doing. You haven’t fully caught your breath yet, but a soft laugh leaves your lips.

“Move or get off of my cock.” You repeat his earlier words playfully.

“I hate you.”

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rubyreduji · 11 months

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a sheep in wolf's clothing — kmg

summary: kim mingyu is the biggest player on campus, so why is he coming to you for sex help

tags: smut (minors dni!), college!au, inexperienced!mingyu, tutor!reader warnings: explicit protected sex, biting, hair pulling, fingering, attempted oral (f. receiving), mingyu is called puppy, pussy drunk mingyu, subby!mingyu, choking, praise, bondage/restraints, minor overstimulation wc: 7.2k an: the build up is kinda long and this is a lot longer than i was expecting it to be…but yay! gyu smut!

It’s early winter when Mingyu approaches you one day after a tutoring session. Finals are coming up soon, and after it will be winter break.

“Mingyu?” You look at him curiously.

Mingyu bows low to you. “Y/N-ah, please help tutor me in sex.”

You stare at him incredulously. What did he just say to you?

You smack him upside the head. “You idiot! You can’t just ask people that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just thought, well, you’ve been so nice about tutoring me with my classes that maybe you could help me with this as well.” There’s a guilty look on Mingyu’s face.

“Sex and algebra are not the same thing! You can’t just go around asking people to teach you about sex. It’s weird.”

“I’m sorry!”

“What are you going on about anyway? You’re like the biggest player I know. Girls are always lining up to hop on your dick.”

Your crude choice of words makes Mingyu blush, like he didn’t just ask you to sleep with him. “It’s never…good, when I do it,” he admits in a small voice. “I just thought maybe I could figure out why.”

Kim Mingyu is bad at having sex? That’s hilarious.

The other thing you don’t get though, is why you? You don’t have enough hands to count the number of people you know who have crushes on Mingyu. So why is he asking you to help him with this? You shake your head, it doesn’t matter, you’re not going to say yes.

You guess this may need some kind of context.

Right after midterms Mingyu approached you one day.

“Y/N.” You looked up to see Kim Mingyu standing in front of you.

You don’t really talk to Kim Mingyu. He’s in your seminar class and you know who he is, but you’re not really someone who is on his radar. He’s a frat boy and on the basketball ball team and hangs out with all of the people you try to generally avoid. Not that you don’t like Mingyu, he’s…sweet, just not someone you would go out of your way to spend time with.

“Mingyu?”

“Hi. I have a question. You’re smart right?”

“Is that the question?”

“What? Oh- no, no! I guess that was more of a segue into my actual question.”

“Which is…?”

“Oh right. I’m kind of failing a couple of classes and was wondering if maybe you could help tutor me? I can pay you if needed!”

“What subjects do you need help with?”

“Biology and Algebra. If I don’t pass I don’t graduate and then my dad’s gonna kill me.” Mingyu looks guilty and you sigh. Biology and Algebra are both freshman gen eds, but it’s not uncommon for people to push them back until their later years of college, which Mingyu must have done, and now he's struggling to pass them.

It was…a bit pathetic, if you're being honest, but you also feel a bit bad for the guy. Which is why you find yourself agreeing to help him out.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Mingyu comes rushing up to your table in the library. His face is red from exertion and papers are starting to spill out of his unzipped backpack.

You slide your headphones off your head to cast a glance at Mingyu from the corner of your eye. “You’re ten minutes late.”

“I know, I’m sorry! I promise I have a good reason though!” Mingyu takes a seat across from you.

“I don’t really care to hear it. Let’s just get started, yeah?” You shut the lid to your laptop, putting your own homework to the side. “What are you struggling with?”

“...all of it? I don’t know how to do any of it and both of my teachers hate me!”

You sigh. Mingyu better be paying you good money for this.

You spend the rest of your day with Mingyu in the library. He’s…not as helpless as you thought he would be, in all honesty he’s not dumb, he really just does need the extra help. Maybe new professors as well. The topics are easy for you to pick back up even though it’s been a while since you’ve studied them.

You take your time explaining them to Mingyu in a way that makes sense to him. You sit there with him as he works on his overdue homework, helping him when he needs it. You’re surprised that he can still turn the work in but he then tells you he was able to get an extension on it so he can graduate and stay on the basketball team. Stupid basketball bastard.

It’s going on four hours of sitting in the library when Mingyu starts to get unbearably antsy (he got regular antsy within the first thirty minutes of sitting down). You can tell he’s not going to be able to do much work anymore so you start to pack up your things.

“Wait, we’re not done!”

“I know, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“What does that even mean?”

You huff. “It’s going to take time to work on this. It’s not a one and done kind of thing. We can meet later in the week if you want but you’re not putting out your best work right now so let’s quit for the day, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right.” Mingyu starts to pack up his things as well. “Thank you for your help so far though, I’m really starting to get it.”

“I’m glad. You’re smart Mingyu, you just need some help, and that’s what I’m here for.” You smile at him and Mingyu smiles at you back.

“No one’s ever called me smart before.”

“No one’s ever believed in you before,” you say with a shrug. Simple as that. You will admit you didn’t have much faith at the start either, but even in just four hours you saw the improvement in him. If only his professors could have just as much faith in him.

That was two months ago. You will say Mingyu’s grades have steadily been improving, enough that he’s not failing anymore and actually understands what’s happening on his tests, so he’s not wrong about you being a good tutor. You just weren’t expecting it to lead to…whatever he’s asking of you now.

Now that you think about it, a lot of your interactions make sense now that you're aware of his…lack of skills in the bedroom.

“So what’s the question you’re looking at?”

Mingyu turns his laptop to you so you can look over the question. You lean in closer to look at it properly before reaching over Mingyu to grab his scrap paper.

“Uh…”

“Yes?” You look at the boy.

“You’re just…really close.”

You roll your eyes and pull back. “Does a woman’s touch scare you Mingyu?”

“No! That’s not what I mean,” he pouts a bit. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I don’t bite Mingyu. You’re the one who asked me to look over the question.”

“I know! I just-, nevermind. Can you just help me with the answer?”

That wasn’t the only instance like that. There was also that time he tried to buy you dinner and you teased him so badly he went home instead. You didn’t think you were actually flustering him. But it seems lately you can’t assume anything from Mingyu.

“Why did your stupid best friend ask me to help him with his stroke game?”

“He WHAT?!” Wonwoo chokes on his lunch as you sit down next to him. You know Wonwoo from some of your honors classes so you’re not sure why Mingyu didn’t ask him to tutor him but you can’t worry about that now.

“I’ve been tutoring him for two months now and he’s now asked me to tutor him on how to be good in bed. Every girl on his campus worships the ground he walks on and are all dying to get in his pants and you’re telling me he can’t even lick a pussy?”

Wonwoo snorts at your words. “Trust me, all of those girls have got him all wrong. That sexy cool guy act is just that, an act. They just want to think he’s like that. He’s actually a giant idiot who thinks he can get anything he wants by whining and using puppy dog eyes.”

“So you’re saying he can’t pleasure a girl because he’s a loser?”

“Basically. Anyone claiming to have hooked up with Mingyu are either too obsessed with the idea of Mingyu himself to admit it was bad, or haven’t even been with him and just want to brag. He’s not the player he wants people to think he is.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s asking me for help.”

Wonwoo sighs, like he doesn’t want to tell you what he is about to. “You hooked up with one of our friends last semester and he may have bragged a bit about it and ever since the whole friend group now has this idea you’re some…sex deity or something.”

Now it’s your turn to snort at Wonwoo. “Excuse me? Sex deity, yeah right. I guess if we’re talking about DK then it makes sense. Kissing and telling is totally not cool though,” you scoff. “Wait- did Mingyu ask me to tutor him just because he wanted me to teach him how to be good at sex?”

“I do know for a fact that Mingyu is failing his classes, but I cannot confirm or deny if he had ulterior motives for asking you for help. I did tell him I wouldn’t give him help though. I gave up on trying to help him out freshman year.”

“This is crazy,” you mutter.

“So I’m assuming you told him no?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you.

“Unlike some people, I don’t kiss and tell. Whether any ‘kissing’ happens or not.” With that you stand and walk away from Wonwoo.

The true answer is, you haven’t decided. You were so sure when he first asked you that it was going to be a no, but now you’ve hesitated giving him a solid answer for so long that you’re starting to question your own choices.

For one thing, you haven’t been laid since last semester when you hooked up with DK, which was seven months ago. You also like Mingyu. You’re not sure if you have any romantic feelings for him, but you for sure like hanging out with him as a friend, and you do trust him. He’s also, objectively, very attractive. Even if you’ve seen him trip over air before. You’d just be helping out a friend. How is it any different than what you’ve been doing?

It’s also the end of the semester. In reality anything goes wrong you can just ignore him until you graduate. It wouldn’t be that hard. There’s really no harm in just trying…right?

“Y/N.” You’re not expecting to see Mingyu at your apartment doorstep two weeks later. You avoided Mingyu during finals week and you haven’t had a reason to see him since the semester ended.

“Mingyu?”

“I just wanted to come here and apologize for what I said to you. It was completely inappropriate and I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I know you probably don’t want to see me anymore but I just wanted to thank you for helping me this semester. This is for you.” Mingyu holds out a small gift bag to you that you take tentatively.

Mingyu is about to start to walk away but you stop him. “Would you like to come inside?”

Mingyu hesitates, like you’re testing him. Eventually he allows himself to step through the threshold. He’s been to your place plenty of times within the last eight weeks, but right now he’s acting like this is the most uncomfortable place he could be right now.

“I talked to Wonwoo about you,” you tell him.

“O-oh…? Did he uhm, say anything?”

“He said lots of things, nothing too noteworthy though. Didn’t know DK had such a big ass mouth though.”

“It wasn’t because of DK why I asked you!” Mingyu jumps in to say, his voice raised all of a sudden. “Sorry I just, I don’t want you to think that I think of you like that?”

“So you don’t think I’d be good at sex?”

“What? No, wait! I do! No that I think about you having sex. Well I guess I do? Because I asked you? But not in that way. I do think you’re hot! I just-”

“Breathe Mingyu,” you laugh. “I’m messing with you.”

“DK isn’t why I asked you, I asked you because well, I trust you.” Mingyu’s voice is softer now and you can’t help but find him cute in this moment. “I understand why you don’t want to though, and-”

“I never said I didn’t want to, Mingyu.” Mingyu’s mouth drops open a bit. He suddenly looks invested in what you have to say. “I just needed time to think.”

“So…what did all of your thinking decide?”

“I think that you should come over here and kiss me.” It’s bold. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to do so, though.

He’s on you within a second, his body dwarfing yours as he pushes his mouth up against yours. You two stay like that for a moment before you pull away.

“Okay, you definitely need help.”

Mingyu whines. “Already? I thought at least I was a good kisser.”

“What girls are lying to you?”

You realize that this is going to be a lot more difficult than you were expecting. Mingyu is truly inexperienced. It’s going to be awkward and a lot of stopping and starting but you’re committed now so if Mingyu doesn’t come out of this his own kind of sex deity, you’re going to be so mad at him.

“You’re too rough. You need to build it up. Girls like being able to be eased into things. You can be soft even when your dick’s not, right?” You two have relocated to your couch where you sit facing each other.

“Softer….okay. Can I try again?”

“Eager to kiss me again?”

“Y/N,” Mingyu whines.

“Fine, fine, come here.”

This time Mingyu’s approach is…softer. It’s also rigid as hell. It’s like kissing a dead fish.

“Mingyu.”

“What now? I’m doing what you said!”

“You’re doing nothing! You’re just sitting there. You have to at least put some effort into it, be interested.”

“Be interested, but don’t be over eager. How do I do that?”

You huff. “Just, let me take the lead. But please kiss back this time.”

You scoot closer to Mingyu to the point you’re almost on his lap. You cup his face and pull him towards you. He feels more loose, which is a good start. You press your lips to his you can feel Mingyu hesitate a moment before finally pressing back. It isn’t too firm and you slide your lips over his. You can hear the soft smacking noises of your lips and you rub your thumb over Mingyu’s cheek.

When you pull away Mingyu looks at you with wide eyes. “That was…so cool.”

You snort. “Cool?”

“I’ve never kissed like that.”

“I can tell.”

“Hey!”

“That’s how most girls want to be kissed, at first at least. Then when things feel right, you can start to deepen it. Get a little more passionate,” you explain.

“What do I do with my hands?” You get flashbacks to past tutoring sessions with Mingyu. You tell him something and he has thirty questions to follow.

“You just touch. Her back, her cheeks, her neck, her waist. Maybe her thigh. Have you never made out with a girl before? You have had sex before haven’t you?”

“Yes! It just was always super rushed and half drunk. I’ve never cum from a girl, and a girl has never cum from me.”

“That’s…sad, but we’re going to fix that. Also stop having drunk sex.”

“Is that why I can’t cum?”

“It’s probably because you’re doing something wrong. And we’re going to figure it out,” you tell him. “Now that you can kiss properly, let’s move on to the next part. Making out.”

“Isn’t that the same as kissing?”

“No. Kissing is soft, slow, innocent. Making out is more intimate and passionate. It’s the real build up into doing other things.” Without warning you crawl into Mingyu’s lap and plop yourself down. “Want me to show you?”

Mingyu’s pupils widen and he nods. “Please.”

You pull Mingyu into you by the back of his neck and smash your lips together. You press up against him, pushing him against the back of the couch. You move your lips against his. You feel Mingyu gently place his hands on your waist before kissing you back. His lips slide against yours, meeting your pace.

You break away from Mingyu for a second to catch your breath before diving right back in. It’s not the most experienced kissing, your teeth clash together and your noses keep bumping, but the passion makes up for it. You bury your fingers into the hair on the back of Mingyu’s head and you tug at it a bit and Mingyu mewls into your mouth.

“You like that?” You whisper to Mingyu and he nods frantically. Mingyu goes in to kiss you again but you stop him. “Eager are we? Remember, this is a teaching lesson, so you’re here to learn.”

“Y-yes Y/N.”

“Good boy.” Mingyu shudders at this and you smirk. “Next step is touching. Do you wanna touch me, Mingyu?” You ask and you swear to God Mingyu whines.

“Yes. Please let me touch you.”

“Where do you wanna touch, puppy?” The nickname slips out, but you can’t help it. That’s exactly what Kim Mingyu is. An eager, adorable little puppy. Mingyu seems to like it too, considering his physical reaction to being called the name.

“Anywhere, everywhere. Wherever you’ll let me Y/Nie.” He’s practically squirming under you, and you can already feel his bulge starting to strain against his pants under you.

“Well go ahead,” you tell him. “Touch me where you want to.”

With shaky arms Mingyu lifts his hands up to your breasts. He hesitates for a second and you nod at him and he pushes them forward, cupping your boobs in his palms. He squeezes there as he stares at his hands, like he can’t believe this is happening.

“Softer,” you tell him as you cover his hands with yours. You show him the right amount of pressure to squeeze with. “Here.” You push his hands off before pulling your shirt over your head so your bra is exposed and Mingyu’s eyes widen, staring at your cleavage.

He brings his hands up again to touch you. His fingertip traces along the top of your breast, before taking the whole thing in his hand. He paws at you and you let out a soft moan. This seems to encourage Mingyu and he kneads at your tit more, thumb brushing over the swell of it.

“Put it together with the kissing,” you tell him. Mingyu leans forward and you connect your lips. Your hand rests on his jaw as you guide the kiss. You push your tongue into Mingyu’s mouth and he lets you.

One of his hands continues to work at your boob, while the other runs up and down your back. It seems he’s getting more comfortable with you and the whole situation. You roll your hips in his lap, grinding down on his cock and he hisses. You giggle to yourself.

Mingyu’s hand moves down off your boob and trails down your torso before reaching around you. Both of his large hands clamp down on your ass, squeezing there. You moan into his mouth. Bold move. You throw your head back and Mingyu takes that opportunity to move his mouth down to your neck.

He presses kiss and bites against the exposed skin, licking the marks after he bites down. Just a big ole puppy.

“Mm, Gyu,” you mumble. “You’re doing so good right now. You’ve always been a fast learner though.”

“Only when it’s you,” Mingyu says against your neck.

Mingyu’s mouth moves farther and farther down until his lips press up against your breasts. He bites down particularly hard on your right one and you let out a cry of pleasure. “Shit, Mingyu.”

“S-sorry,” Mingyu pulls back quickly but you shove him right back where he was.

“No, don’t stop. So good.”

Mingyu seems to get what you mean and he continues what he was doing, biting and kissing all over your chest. His hands move up your back and you can feel him grab the clasp of your bra, but stop before doing anything. He’s waiting for permission. What a good boy.

“Go ahead Mingyu,” you tell him and two seconds later your bra is on the floor.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” Mingyu’s hips buck up into yours as he stares at your exposed breasts. Your nipples are perky and staring straight at Mingyu. He stares right back.

“Well go on, touch ‘em.”

Mingyu brings his hand up and brushes his thumb over your nipple and you whine and push forward into his hand. This excites Mingyu and he does it again. He squeezes at the supple flesh there, watching the way his large hand envelopes your tit.

Your other boob is left untouched and Mingyu seems to realize this and he leans his head down to wrap his lips around your areola. His tongue darts out to flick at your nipple and you grind your hips down, your pussy screaming from the feeling of his hot mouth on your breast.

You throw your head back again and bury your hands into his hair, holding him in place as he feasts on your chest. You’ve never been too big on marks, but you find you can’t tell Mingyu to stop as he gnaws on your chest.

It takes you a minute or two to remember that you’re doing this for a reason. You do your best to try and clear your head as you push Mingyu away from you. “You’re…very good at that,” you say, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re so pretty Y/N,” Mingyu whispers to you as his thumb brushes against your waist. “Especially like this.” You look down to see the red marks starting to form on your chest.

“There's more to learn, pup,” you tell him. “You’re doing so good for me right now though.”

“Wanna learn more. Wanna do more.”

“First step is to get you out of this.” You tug at Mingyu’s shirt and he helps you pull it over his head.

You take a moment to stare at his bare chest. You’re aware he’s a fit, good looking guy, but you’re still stunned at what you see. His pecs are huge and his abs are like a washboard. You wanna drool all over his stomach. You can do that later, you have a task at hand right now.

“You know how to touch a pussy Mingyu?” You ask him.

Mingyu looks alarmed at your boldness and he averts his eyes from you. “Uhm…no.”

“That’s okay baby,” you grab his chin and force him to look at you again, “I’m gonna teach you all about it.”

You climb off his lap and Mingyu whines as you do. He shuts up real quick when he sees you shimmying out of your pants. You nod at him to do the same and Mingyu quickly pushes his pants down his legs and kicks them onto the floor.

You have a better view of his bulge this way, and you can already tell he’s huge. His cock presses tight up against his boxers, begging to be freed and played with. You push Mingyu back onto the couch and crawl back onto his lap, hovering over his thighs.

You slowly lower yourself down against him and grind your cunt against his length. Mingyu whimpers below you as you roll your hips in slow, teasing motions. You can feel almost everything with there only being two thin layers between you two. Your panties are already damp with your arousal and you stare at Mingyu in the eyes as you move against him.

“It’s so warm,” Mingyu mumbles.

“I’m wet. You did that pup. You’re gonna make it happen even more though, yeah?” Mingyu nods at you. “You know where the clit is?”

Mingyu doesn’t respond and that gives you your answer. You grab Mingyu’s hand and place it against your cunt. Mingyu’s face goes through multiple emotions before settling on one of amazement. You press two of his fingers against you until they catch on your clit. You stifle a moan as you start to move Mingyu’s fingers in small circles.

“Feel that? That’s the clit. Keep touching there.” Mingyu seems hesitant to do so, though.

“I don’t wanna do it wrong,” he tells you.

You grind your cunt down against his hand. “If you do it wrong I’ll tell you, but you better start touching me now or I’m kicking you out and getting myself off.”

This sets Mingyu in motion and he starts to move your clit around in circles. His touch is still a bit shy at first, light and fleeting and almost not enough, like he’s teasing you.

“More,” you tell him. You reach down and press his fingers hard against you. “Firm, but not harsh.”

“It’s so wet,” Mingyu says. He’s right. Your panties are soaked through now and you can feel the roughness of the pads of his fingertips against you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “super turned on. Gonna need you to finger me soon.”

“F-finger you?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “It’s easy, don’t worry. Just keep touching me like this for now.”

You lean down and capture Mingyu’s lips again. It takes him a moment to double task kissing you and touching your clit but he eventually gets the hang of it. You take one of Mingyu’s lips between your own and suck on it, pulling it into your mouth before releasing it and doing it all over again.

Mingyu moans and his fingers accidently press harder against your clit, causing you to moan as well.

“Fuck, do that again,” Mingyu groans.

“What? Suck on your lip?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Only if you stick your fingers in me.”

“Ah, Y/N, I’m not sure…”

“You’ve come this far already. I’m so needy for it Gyu, please?” You give him your best begging eyes. “You’re the one who got me all worked up, the least you can do is fix it. You’ll learn a valuable life skill as well.”

Mingyu contemplates it for a few more seconds before agreeing. “Okay. Just, show me how, please?”

You lift your hips up a bit and push your panties to the side before grabbing Mingyu’s hand and moving further between your legs. You press Mingyu’s fingers up to your entrance and slightly lower yourself down on them, so you’re half riding his hand.

“Just push them inside and move them in and out. Like you do with any fucking motion. If you want it to feel really good, curl your fingers and try to find my g-spot.”

“What if it doesn’t feel good?”

“Then we’ll stop and try again, or move on to something else. You’re learning Gyu, it’s okay.”

He still looks a bit weary, but he slowly pushes his fingers up in you and you bite down on your lip so you don’t scream out. His fingers are thick and you probably should have told him to start with one. He’s awkward with his technique and it’s more like he’s jamming his fingers into you, rather than thrusting.

“Gyu, Gyu, baby,” you mutter and you grab his wrist. “Remember, take your time, it’s okay.”

You pull his fingers out of you before rearranging his hands so only his pointer finger is sticking up. You help him guide it into you slowly and you start to pull his finger in and out of you, moving your hips along as you do.

You loosen your grip on Mingyu’s hand and he starts to take over. “Mm, just like that pup. Can you curl your finger, like uh, like this.” You make the come hither motion and Mingyu does the same. You can feel his fingertip scrape against your walls, before pushing right up against where you want it.

You gasp and grind down against Mingyu’s hand. “Right there Gyu. Keep hitting right there. Add another finger too.”

Mingyu does as told and you work on holding up your end of the bargain. You pull Mingyu’s bottom lip into your mouth and suck on it before tugging at it with your teeth. You drag your teeth over his lip before releasing it. His lip is plump and slightly red when you pull away, but his pupils are blown wide.

Without him having to ask, you dive in to do it again, enjoying his reaction. You don’t think Mingyu realizes this, but as you suck on his lip his fingers start to thrust harder into you. The harder you suck, the deeper his fingers go. Not only does it feel good but the fact he doesn’t even know he’s doing it is so hot.

You break your lips away from Mingyu, both of you a little breathless. Your mouth isn’t lonely for long though as you dip down to press kisses against his neck. Not many guys you hook up with are into it, but Mingyu seems like the type who would, and you are so right. Mingyu mewls as you suck a mark right into the junction of his neck.

You can feel him shifting under you, his boner is probably painfully hard right now.

Mingyu’s fingers are now drenched from your arousal and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer by the second. Your legs start to tremble and you bite down onto Mingyu’s pec as your pussy spasms. You feel your whole body flood with pleasure as you ride Mingyu’s fingers.

“Y-Y/N? Are you okay?” Mingyu asks you softly. His free hand cradles your face and he looks at you with big eyes.

You gently pull his fingers out of you as you laugh, sinking into his body. “More than okay Gyu,” you mutter. “You just made a girl cum for the first time.”

“Wait, I made you cum? Just now?” You nod into his chest. You look up at Mingyu to find him looking down at you in awe.

For a fleeting second you think about how you just taught him how to finger a girl. How he can now go out and use those skills on anyone who’s willing (and that list is quite long).

The idea makes you…a little jealous to be honest. The thought of Mingyu using the skills you’ve taught him on another girl. You do get some satisfaction knowing that no matter who he uses them on though, you’re the one who taught him it.

You shake your head, why are you even thinking like that? Mingyu isn’t your boyfriend. This is just a tutoring lesson, nothing different than what you’ve been doing with him.

“Ready for your next lesson?” You ask him, banishing those thoughts from your mind.

“Yes!”

You caress his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You wanna learn how to use your mouth? Lick all over my cunt and make me feel good?”

Mingyu whines. “Yes Y/N, please.”

You slide off his lap and lay yourself down on the couch. You spread your legs a bit and you let Mingyu stare at you for a second. “Well come here pup.”

Mingyu quickly moves so he can place his face between your legs. His fingers run along the soft skin of your thighs. “How do I…”

“Uh, remember the clit from earlier? You just kind of suck and lick at it. Then if you want to do more you can do what you did with your fingers, but with your tongue instead,” you explain. Mingyu nods his head along, like he’s soaking up every word you’re saying.

Mingyu dips down between your legs and experimentally juts his tongue out and licks at your clit. His tongue is hot and wet and you need more. You let out a little encouraging hum and Mingyu dives in more. He laps at your clit, he’s a bit rough with it, but you don’t stop him, enjoying the roughness.

You reach down and bur your hands in his hair, tugging a bit. He hums against you and the vibrations go right into your clit, just as you hoped. Mingyu wraps his lips around your bud, sucking it into your mouth. You’re just about to tell him to suck a bit harder when you suddenly scream out, and not in the good way.

“Fuck, Mingyu!” You instinctively smack Mingyu against the head and he lets up. “Gyu what the hell?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He quickly backs away from you.

You sigh. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know. “You can’t bite down on the clit, it’s sensitive. How would you like it if someone bit the tip of your cock. If you really wanna use your teeth, just scrape, don’t bite.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Mingyu whispers. You scoot closer to him. He looks afraid of touching you, but you reach out and grab him instead.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. You’re still learning, you’re not going to be perfect the first time. I’m sorry for smacking you.”

“No, I probably deserve it. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Exactly. We both did something we regret, and now we can forgive and forget, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” Mingyu still seems a little nervous but you just kiss at his jaw.

“We can come back to it another day, okay pup?”

“A-another day?”

“Yeah, remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I promise I’ll suck your dick then too, show you how a real girl should take care of you.” Mingyu nearly drools on you. “But let’s move to something more fun, yeah? Gonna show you how to use that big cock of yours.”

“Please,” Mingyu begs, his shy demeanor suddenly gone again. “My cock is so hard.”

“I know, that must hurt a lot. C’mon puppy, we’re gonna move to my bed, okay?” You crawl off of Mingyu and he scrambles to his feet. He hurries after you as you lead him to your bed. “Boxers off, on the bed.”

Mingyu quickly obeys. He strips his boxers off and climbs onto the bed, his back resting against your headrest. His dick rests against his stomach and you lick your lips at the sight. Just as you suspected, his cock is HUGE. Long and thick in all the right ways with a delicious vein running along his whole length. Yeah, you’re definitely going to have to suck his dick at some point.

“Now puppy,” you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees as you face Mingyu, “are you going to let me tie you up?”

Mingyu’s hips buck into the air involuntarily and he blushes. “I- uh, I’ve never thought about that but, I think I want to try.”

“Good boy.” You climb off the bed and move over to your closet. You can feel Mingyu’s eyes trail your naked form and you take your time bending down and picking out what you’re looking for.

When you turn around Mingyu is still staring shamelessly. A soft tie that you think once belonged to an ex is in your hands and you saunter back up to Mingyu. You climb over him, straddling his waist, your bare pussy hovering over his abs. You’re sure you could grind your clit to completion against them.

You lean over Mingyu’s face, bringing his wrists up over his head. You tie them to your headboard before leaning back. Mingyu’s gaze follows your tits that were just in his face and you roll your eyes. “Eyes up here pup.”

Mingyu blushes and drags his eyes up to meet yours. “Sorry.”

“If you want your arms to be let down, just tell me and I’ll untie you, okay?” He nods. “That’s a good boy.”

You lean down and kiss Mingyu. Your lips clash against each other, but Mingyu easily lets you have the dominance. You lower your body down onto him, grinding your clit against his abs. Your prediction was right. The grooves as his muscles catch on your clit.

“Fuck puppy, you’re such a good boy.”

“Y/N, please. Need to cum so bad.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.”

You reach over to your bedside table and grab a condom out of one of your drawers. You move down Mingyu's body and you roll it onto him. You notice his cock is already starting to produce precum and you resist the urge to lean down and lick it off.

Once you have the condom secured you hover over his lap and line him up to your entrance. Slowly, you sink down onto him. It takes a second for him to get into you, due to his large size.

Little by little, you’re able to fuck yourself down to his base. Your pussy is stuffed full and you swear you can feel him pressing up against your stomach.

“Gyu, how can you be this big, but have no clue how to use it?”

“I don’t know,” he whines, “but you feel so good right now. I think I’m gonna combust.”

“Don’t. Not until I say so.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Mingyu says.

“Now be quiet pup, I’m gonna show you how this thing should actually be used.”

You brace yourself on Mingyu’s chest and start to roll your hips slowly. His cock stretches at your walls as it moves in and out of you. You bite your lip, half in concentration, half in covering up your moans.

Eventually you’re about to find a good pace that’s not too fast but not painfully slow. You can hear the soft noises Mingyu is releasing, letting you know how good he feels.

“You’re being so good for me baby,” you tell him as you lean down and press a kiss to his pec.

“Feels so good Y/N,” Mingyu whimpers. “Never felt a pussy as good as yours.”

The idea that you’re the best Mingyu’s ever had drives you crazy and you start to pick up your pace. You fuck yourself on Mingyu’s dick, hard and fast. Underneath you, Mingyu is a mess. As good as this is making you feel, you know Mingyu is even closer to falling apart than you are.

“Y/N, please,” he begs.

“Please what puppy?”

“Please, choke me.” The request isn’t what you were expecting, but you’re not mad at it.

You slide your hand up his chest and to his neck. You slide your fingers into the right place for safe choking and squeeze slightly. “Aww, does my pretty puppy like when my hand is collar?”

Mingyu just nods to the best of his ability, his breath coming out in small puffs.

“What a good boy for me.” You lean forward and kiss his forehead. “Look at you, all fucked out. That’s been your problem baby. You’ve never been successful because you need someone to take care of you, don’t you? You’re just a pliant little pup who needs to be bossed around.”

Mingyu whimpers at your words and you know you’re right. It’s almost laughable. The big, campus “player” is nothing but a submissive puppy who didn’t even know how to kiss until two hours ago.

It’s kind of hot though, discovering Mingyu’s kinks before anyone else can. This is just for you and him. You lean down and press your lips against Mingyu’s. Your grip on his throat helps you guide his face to yours and press hard and firm against him, wanting to taste every part of him.

You’re not sure what you were expecting when you agreed to help Mingyu out with this, but it definitely wasn’t how intimate it feels right now. You can’t say you hate it though. Mingyu’s body pressed against yours, your breaths mingling as his fat cock crams up against your cervix.

“Nngh, Y/N, close,” Mingyu mutters to his best abilities. “Please. Needa cum.”

“Aw, doesn’t my puppy want me to let him cum?” He nods. “Hmm, well since this is your first time being able to cum during sex, I guess I’ll let you have this. Come on puppy, give it to me.”

Mingyu sighs in relief at your words and he thrusts up into you once, twice, and then he’s cumming, painting the condom white with his semen. You don’t let him catch a break though, continuing to fuck yourself with his cock so you can cum too.

Mingyu whimpers with overstimulation as you reach down to furiously rub at your clit. You can tell Mingyu is dying to help but his hands are still tied up. You feel your stomach start to tighten up and then your legs are giving out and you fall against Mingyu, your cunt throbbing against him. You pant into his chest as you roll your hips lazily trying to prolong your orgasm as much as you.

When it seems that it’s over you reach up and untie Mingyu’s arms before gently lifting yourself off him and flopping down onto the bed.

“Normally after sex you do aftercare. Drinking water, going pee, cleaning up. Cuddles if needed,” you explain, still a little out of breath.

“Do you…want to cuddle?” Mingyu looks at you with innocent eyes and you melt a little.

“Uh, yeah, if you want to.”

“I’m always open to cuddles!” It sounds like a message that would be pre-recorded in a Valentine’s Day teddy bear, but you guess that kind of sums up Mingyu.

“Lemme go pee and get some water, and then we’ll cuddle okay?” You get up and go through your list of things you need to do. When you make it back to your bed it seems Mingyu has cleaned himself off with a tissue and you hand him a cup of water that he happily chugs down.

You climb back into your bed and slip under the cover. Mingyu does the same and you bury yourself into his side. His body is warm and still buzzing with that after sex glow and you rest your head on his chest. Neither of you bothered to get dressed and you relish in the feeling of his bare skin against yours.

“Y/N-ah?” Mingyu whispers and you look up at him. “Thanks for doing this. It uh, means a lot to me.”

“Yeah well, I got something out of it too, so no big deal.”

“I know but, I’m just really happy it’s you.”

The words hold a second meaning to them that you can’t quite place yet. You don’t respond, just press yourself up against Mingyu tighter. You can wonder about the future for you and Mingyu after you’re done cuddling.

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everyonewooeverywhere · 2 months

Text

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ fuckboy!mingi x party girl!reader (feat. best friends/roomates!woosan)

synopsis ✭ you like to party but that doesn’t mean you’re always down to fuck, so, when notorious fuck boy song mingi takes an interest in you, you’re certainly wary of him. but something about his insistence and willingness to go the extra mile is incredibly attractive. when they see you start to play into him, though, your best friends wooyoung and san do everything in their power to keep you away from him. so mingi has no choice but to fly under their radar.

content/genre ✭ smut MDNI 18+, fwb/situationship to ???, undefined relationship, secret relationship

word count ✭ 5.3k

warnings ✭ alcohol consumption (not during/before sex), protected sex, slight dirty talk, fingering, sex is pretty vanilla

✭✭✭✭

CHAPTER 1: SWEET TALKER

The scene was very familiar to you. A packed bar on a Friday night. A skimpy outfit that made you feel good. Loud music that shook through your body, lyrics drowned out by the heavy bass and mass of people. All of that on top of a drink in your hand paid for by a guy you knew full well you were not going home with. It was the recipe for a perfect night.

You certainly weren’t a stranger to a good party. And this one wasn’t any different from the others. The drink in your hand was free, paid for by the pretty stranger you were talking to. His name completely slipped your mind, but you didn’t really need to remember it because, moments after catching your eyes from across the bar, your friend slipped his arm over your shoulder.

When you looked up at him in mock surprise, he kissed your forehead. He turned to look at the guy you were talking to, one who was mildly surprised to find out you had a boyfriend.

Despite his surprise, though, he piped up anyway, “Can I help you? We were kinda talking here.”

Wooyoung shook his head and laughed, “I don’t really appreciate guys buying drinks for my girl and trying to hook up with her.”

“But–”

“We’ll be on our way actually,” Wooyoung cut off the nameless man, leading you away with his arm still around your shoulder.

It wasn’t until the two of you made it to the tall table where your friend San was standing that he dropped his arm from your shoulder.

Immediately, though, Wooyoung glared at you, “Was the drink worth it?”

“Honestly, not really,” you laughed, “His taste kinda sucked.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, “You’re just mad you can’t anyone to pay for your alcohol that isn’t San.”

“I only pay because he never stops whining,” he glared at your friend. “And it’s not like I’m gonna drink tonight either,” he said, taking a sip of the Coke in his hand.

“You don’t have to be the designated driver every weekend, San,” you told him, “Wooyoung knows how to drive, too.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “You bitch. You know how to drive. Why don’t you ever offer?”

“Because you are a gentleman, and you would never make me drive you home after a long night.”

“That’s some bullshit logic.”

You shrugged, “It works on San.”

“You know I don’t mind,” San chimed in, trying to break up this completely unnecessary argument.

You knew, but pushing Wooyoung’s buttons was always fun, especially when he was tipsy. Turning away from the table, scanning the bar. It was relatively early, only around ten, but the bar was packed with mostly students from your university. They hung around the bar and danced on the floor. It was a typical Friday night for a lot of students at your university. Since the bar was only half a mile from campus, you’d be hard-pressed to find a body in here who didn’t attend your school or know someone who did. Despite that, most of these people you had never seen before in your life.

Song Mingi was not one of those people.

Personally, you had only ever interacted with him in passing. Mostly with his friends. When they bought you a drink hoping you’d come back to their place. The majority of them had failed (in fact, only one of them had ever succeeded). But you knew his name at least, and you were pretty confident he knew yours.

He had never really tried. Probably because you had a reputation for rejections. Most guys, fortunately for your wallet, saw this as a challenge, and you were never gonna turn down free stuff.

From where he stood across the bar you could tell he was staring at you. Even with his stupid sunglasses on. He was staring at you with complete disregard for the fact that there was already a girl on his arm. You saw his eyebrows raise above the glasses as if he was greeting you without tipping off the girl with him. You rolled your eyes a looked back over at San who was sliding around the table to your side.

“He’s been watching you all night.”

“Really?” you titled your head, minorly intrigued. Maybe “minorly” was a lie because you could hardly ignore the butterflies in your stomach at knowing that fact.

“Y/n…”

You side-eyed him, “What?”

You knew “what.” Of course, you did. That much was obvious from the girl on his arm who he was pretending to pay attention to. Mingi went through girls like they were busy work. Checking them off like boxes and moving on to the next. As far as you know, he hadn’t had a girlfriend in your four years of attending the university, and you weren’t delusional enough to believe that the attention he was giving you was anything special.

As much as you despised a fuckboy, though, you would be a fool to deny that Song Mingi was the epitome of your type. Tall, dark hair, great style. Dressed in all black and adorned with carefully chosen silver jewelry. Sometimes you wondered why all the hottest guys you knew were the ones who were almost certainly never going to settle down. San would be the one to tell you to reassess your type, but listening to San was something you didn’t do very often (even though he was always right).

“I know you, and you do not want to mess around with him.”

“Correction, I don’t want to date him. I would very much like to mess around with him.”

San looked at you disapprovingly, “You and I both know that you don’t go home with guys because you know you’ll catch feelings for a one-night-stand. Tell me how the fuck you’re going to mess around with him and keep it purely casual.”

He was right, as per usual. You weren’t really the type to be able to separate romantic feelings from your sex life. God, you had surely tried, but each attempt had ended in disastrous heartbreak. And you had no reason to believe that this would be any different.

“One drink couldn’t hurt.” You were desperately trying to reason with him. Well, you were more trying to reason with yourself, but San was there to be of assistance.

“Ask him why the fuck he’s wearing sunglasses inside at night,” Wooyoung chimed in from behind you.

“Stop encouraging her.”

“Ok, dad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and took a sip of the Coke San had left on the table.

“It’s fine, Sannie, I’m not gonna fuck him. I’ll just talk to him, and maybe dance with him. That’s it. I’ll still come back here, and we’ll all go home together. Ok?”

Despite San’s major disapproval, you made your way back up to the bar. If he wanted you that bad, he’d come to you. You certainly weren’t going to make the first move here. If he wanted to get closer than just checking you out.

Inevitably, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was Wooyoung, and he was letting you know that Mingi was making his way toward the bar.

In order to avoid another mediocre drink, you started ordering a drink for yourself. When the bartender asked for your card at the end of your order, you started digging around in your clutch. Mingi knew your game. He knew full well, as he approached you, that that clutch held absolutely nothing of monetary value. And he was right of course, you had brought it for the sole purpose of holding your phone and a tube of lip gloss.

“Go ahead and make two of those,” Mingi reached over your shoulder and handed the bartender his card.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, faking your surprise, “Oh! Thank you.”

“Of course, anything for a pretty girl who goes to bars without a wallet” he smiled down at you. Leaning against the bartop.

Laughing, you shrugged, “I don’t need to why pretty boys are willing to pay for my drinks.”

“So you knew I would pay before you even got up here?”

“Please, I could practically feel you staring at me all night,” that was fully a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Couldn’t help myself. You look great it black,” He gestured to the minidress you wore. It was one of your favorites, so it felt good that he seemed to like it, too.

You grabbed at the jacket he was wearing, running your thumb over the fabric, “So do you.”

The bartender slid your drinks to you, and Mingi picked both of them up. His fingers brushed your own as he handed it to you.

The two of you chatted and flirted for the better part of an hour. The time honestly flew by. You looked over at your friends to see that some more people had gathered around their table. Great. That meant you had time. San chatting away with people meant he wasn’t ready to leave. And you wanted to dance with Mingi. So you for sure weren’t ready to leave. You looked out over the dance floor, it was still super lively. Just crowded enough for you to have fun.

When you set your empty glass down on the bar, Mingi grabbed your hand. He nodded toward the dance floor you were looking at so longingly, “You wanna dance?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “sure.”

✭✭✭✭

Dancing with Mingi was incredible. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that he looked so fucking good under the low lights of the bar, but holy shit.

The rings on his hand dug into your waist where his hands were holding you against him. With your head leaned back against his chest, you could feel his breath on your neck. He groan slightly ever time you gripped his hair. It was such a subtle groan that you could only really feel it reverbrate of hiss body.

When he turned you around in his arms, you where quick to place yours over his shoulders, pushing your chest into his. He smirked down at you with both of his hands resting on the lowest part of your back, any lower and he fully would have been groping you.

You danced with him for an indecerable amount of time. You were sweating from the amount of bodies in the room, and you can tell Mingi is too from the sheen on his forehead.

Moving a hand from his shoulder you grabbed the sunglasses, his stupid fucking sunglasses, and lifted them up onto his head. Looking into his eyes for the first time, he winked at you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him, as if it were even possible. You tangled your hands in his hair as the two of you danced together. Communicating with nothing but body movements. Everything was hot, from the air in the room, to his hands on your back. You felt nothing but pure dopamine infused ecstasy.

Most of the time, the men who bought you drinks spent their time with you bragging about themselves and telling you how good you looked in whatever outfit you had opted for that night.

It was rare that you actually had fun with them. That was usually reserved for your friends.

Maybe it was the fact that you had already decided on not going home with him, though that decision was sounding more and more unappealing as the night went on, or maybe it was because you were dancing with a man who just knew how to have fun.

There were no thoughts in you head other than the utter giddiness you felt when his hands squeezed your waist or when his head dipped to your neck as he breathed something in your ear.

Nothing could take you out of this moment. Well maybe except your phone buzzing in your bag. You had felt it buzz around six times before you reached into your bag to see what it was.

Of course, as you suspected it might be, it was Wooyoung. Telling you that he was tired and wanted to go home. You huffed and thought about ignoring it when you saw San approaching you.

Quickly, and without much thought at all, you reached into Mingi’s back pocket. He looked a bit taken aback by the action. When you pulled out his phone, he looked down at you, intrigued.

“Open it,” you told him. He did what you asked, unlocking the device and handing it back to you. You were quick to type in your number with your name. Simple. No emojis. No petnames. He could change it up later if he really wanted.

By the time San had grabbed your shoulder, you had already given him his phone back. And that was it. You let San pull you away. Left him with nothing but your phone number. Not a kiss. Not a promise to meet up. Not a “call me” with a wink. Nothing.

You left him with the hope that, if he really wanted you, he would chase you. At least just a little bit.

✭✭✭✭

Mingi had really pulled through. He had texted you that next night. It was nothing special. He told you that he had had a good time. That he thought you were beautiful, and he’d love to see you again. You texted a bit through the week, too. Casually flirting with each other. Well, it was more of him flirting, and you responding calmly. A completely false persona, because every time he mentioned anything suggestive you were a total wreck. Kicking your feet, giggling with red ears.

Even when he texted you at work.

✭✭✭✭

Working the closing shift was always such a bore. Working until the late hours of the night, cleaning up messes that you had no part in making. It was the perfect storm for a less-than-perfect evening.

Having a friend to join you in that suffering, though, made it just a little more bearable. You had to beg your manager to keep scheduling you with San in the evenings, but it certainly paid off. The restaurant was small, so it was just the two of you at night. Left to your own devices to clean up and close down.

Being alone with him, though, unfortunately, gave him time to lecture you.

You’d just finished mopping the floors in the back kitchen when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You smiled a little when you saw who it was.

“Oh god,” you heard San grumble from where he was next to you, also mopping the floors.

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You know what,” he rolled his eyes, “are you actually talking to that douchebag?”

You shrugged, “it’s nothing serious. It’s all just fun.”

“Yeah, it’s all just fun until you actually start catching feelings for him, and then he dumps you like he has so many other girls.”

His words stung quite a bit, but mostly because you knew there was more than a small layer of truth to them. You knew this was far from the first time that Mingi had given a girl this much attention, but you’d be fully lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like it. His sweet words and constant pet names were something you looked forward to every day.

Which is why you looked back down at your phone despite San’s obvious disapproval.

| mingi: you work at arriba’s right?

| you: uhh…yeah? who told that? and why?

| mingi: no one told me. ive just seen you there a lot

| mingi: and you said you were working tonight so i wanted to know if i could pick you up after your shift

| mingi: my roommate’s gone tonight. thought maybe we could watch a movie or whatever. we’ll have the place to ourselves

Holy shit. He was inviting you over. You’d only been talking to him for a week, but you were starting to wonder if texting back and forth was going to be the extent of this…thing…the two of you had going on.

| you: riiiight… watch a movie…

| mingi: we can do whatever you want baby

| mingi: i don’t give a shit about the movie. i just wanna see your pretty face

You glanced over at San, who was still vigorously mopping the floors in the kitchen. There’s no way you could have Mingi pick you up without him noticing. He was your ride home anyway. You didn’t want to lie to him either though. Which meant you’d have to face the humiliation of telling him you were going over to “watch movies” with the guy he was desperately trying to get you to avoid.

But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see Mingi. And you’d be lying even more if you said you just wanted to watch a movie with him. You were trying so hard, though, to make him keep playing this game. To see how far he was willing to go. How much he was willing to chase you.

You couldn’t help it, though, that every time he texted you thought back to him dancing with you at the bar. His hands on your waist and your back. His lips brushed up against your ear. The strands of his dark hair between your fingers.

Noticing your silence, Mingi messaged you again:

| mingi: please baby? i really want to see you

| mingi: i’ll even pick up some takeout on my way to get you

| mingi: and i’ll drive you home tomorrow i promise

Tommorow? Well fuck. You really weren’t sure at first if he wanted you to spend the night, but that much was clear now. Sure, you probably wouldn’t get done at Arriba’s until midnight, but you thought maybe he’d just drive you home super late. But spending the night? Well, that just added a whole new level of intrigue.

| you: fine, i get off at 12. don’t be late

| mingi: wouldnt dream of it

San was still mildly upset at you as the night went on. Well, upset wasn’t really the word, he was more worried you were gonna get your heart broken which you assured him wouldn’t happen because there were no feelings really involved here. Hell, you hadn’t even met up outside the bar yet.

But San’s poor attitude made it significantly harder to bring up this evening’s plan.

“Hey, um,” you started, not looking at him as you wiped down the table in front of you, “I, uh, don’t need a ride home tonight.”

You glanced up to see that he’d stopped wiping down his table.

“Ok,” he responded, resuming his cleaning.

You cringed, that response was almost worse than a lecture, and you told him that.

He shrugged in response, “You’re an adult. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I can strongly advise you against certain things, but I’m not going to stop you,” he met your eyes, “If he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, though, please call me, ok?”

You nodded.

“I won’t lecture you at all. I’ll just come get you.”

"Thank you, Sannie,"

✭✭✭✭

After counting down the cash and setting the alarm, you were both ready to go for the evening. You checked your phone for the time. 12:14. Below it, of course, was a message from Mingi:

| mingi: im here

[attachment: 1 image]

| mingi: and ive got food

You bid your friend farewell with a hug. When you stepped out into the parking lot, you saw Mingi leaning up against the hood of his car, food in hand. San’s eyes burned into the back of your head as you made your way over to him. Actually, you had more reason to believe he was staring at Mingi rather than at you.

He pushed himself off his car when he saw you coming. He held the food out to you, grinning.

“What’d you get?” you asked, taking the bag from him.

He shrugged, “Just some chicken. I wasn’t sure what you liked. There’s fries in there too, and I’ve got a Coke in the car if you want it.”

“Thank you.” “Not a problem, baby,” he glanced over your shoulder, “Although…is your friend gonna be alright? He won’t stop staring.”

The butterflies you got seeing him call you “baby” over text were nothing compared to the pure giddiness that came from hearing it out loud.

Of course, though, you had to remind yourself that you were far from the only girl whom he’d called “baby” with that voice you’d come to obsess over. This wasn’t about the use of a pet name, it was about how his voice really got you going. But just maybe you did enjoy him calling you “baby.”

“Don’t worry about him. He just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Oh, how refreshing,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t go unnoticed by you.

✭✭✭✭

After pulling his car into the parking lot and leading you up four flights of stairs (apparently, the elevator has been broken for months), you arrived at the door of Mingi’s apartment. He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He turned around to usher you through the door.

“Here she is,” he mumbled.

You laughed a little, “You refer to your apartment as a ‘she.’”

He shrugged and laughed a little with you, not providing any explanation at all.

You took a glance around the apartment, other than the bedrooms, you could see the whole thing from where you stood in the doorway. It was small, but it definitely was an adequate living situation for two college students on a budget. You walked through the kitchen, setting the leftover food on his counter since you had eaten most of it on the drive here.

When Mingi disappeared into his bedroom, you froze just a bit. He’d seemed super casual over the phone. It was obvious that he definitely wanted to have sex with you but not at all like he’d try to force it out of you. You were kind of under the impression that the ball was in your court on that one. Maybe you had misread the situation.

Despite your confusion, you made a couple of steps toward his room only to see him emerge from the room moments later with some clothes in his.

“I figured you might want to change out of your work clothes,” he says, pushing the change of clothes into your arms. It was nothing special, a black tee and some gray basketball shorts. “If you want you can use the shower too. I cleaned it yesterday, too, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

You were a little thrown off by his demeanor. Maybe the flirty Mingi you had previously been interacting with had an on-and-off switch, because, right now, he was just treating you like a friend who was crashing at his place for the evening. Not at all like the Mingi who you’d been talking to all week who was desperately trying to get into your pants.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I actually wouldn’t mind taking a shower.”

✭✭✭✭

After you had finished your shower and, mostly, dried your hair, you and Mingi sat together on the couch. His arm rested behind your shoulders as he scrolled through different shows on the TV.

Holy hell he smelt good. You couldn’t tell if it was just good hygiene or cologne or maybe even just fabric softener, but, nonetheless, you couldn’t help but breathe in and lean closer into his side. When he felt you lean closer, the arm around your shoulder pulled you in just a bit closer. You glanced up at his face which was still focused on the screen in front of you. Illuminated solely by the television screen and the faint light in the kitchen behind you. Your eyes traced his profile watching how his eyelashes fluttered and his tongue absentmindedly played with his lips. They looked soft. Really soft.

Forcing yourself to stop looking at his lips, halting the dirty thoughts that began clouding your mind, you looked back up at his eyes which were focused on the screen ahead of you. Light from the TV reflected off the glassy surface of his eyes. He truly was beautiful.

In all honesty, you felt yourself falling into dangerous territory here. Everything about this situation, him buying you dinner, letting you wear his clothes and use his shower, cuddling on his couch while his roommate was out of town. All of it screamed couple. Right? Why was he treating you like a girlfriend? You knew for a fact that wasn’t his angle here. Or at least you thought. God this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t you just relax and enjoy yourself in the arms of a beautiful man? This is why you never went home with guys. You would spend the entirety of your night micromanaging your thoughts and overanalyzing the situation.

Subconsciously, in the midst of your chronic overthinking, you had pulled away from Mingi just a little, but it was enough for him to notice and look down at you.

“You good?” he asked. Setting the remote down on the couch next to him.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Maybe I should kiss him. You thought. That would make it clear what you wanted. Give him some indication. No that’s a terrible idea. And an impulsive one, too.

He found your speechlessness endearing. He laughed softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing your jaw with his fingers and swiping his thumb softly across your cheek.

Well, fuck. You lost all restraint over yourself in that moment.

Holding his hand against your face with your own, you leaned into him and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss, smirking slightly as his moved with your own. His lips were just as soft as you imagined. Like velvet when they passed over yours. And fuck he tasted good, you could tell he had definitely freshened up while you were in the shower.

You sighed even further into the kiss when his hand moved down to your neck. Throwing one leg over his lap, you straddled his waist. He kissed you even harder now. Playfully biting your bottom lip. Pulling at it before kissing your chin. Then your jaw. Down your neck. All the way to your collarbone.

His hands dug into your hips much like they had when you had danced together the weekend prior. Your hands gripped his t-shirt. Failing to contain your anticipation.

“Baby,” he whispered, the depth of his voice shot straight to your core, “how far do you wanna take this?”

You whined, grateful he was defining boundaries but overwhelmed with the fact you had to tell him how you wanted it, “Please, Mingi.” You breathed out a heavy breath, “I need you.”

He smirked, his demeanor changed ever so slightly. Noted. You thought. He liked it when you begged. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Burring your face in his neck and gripping his shirt tight, you rolled your hips. Grinding your core into him, “Mingi,” you moaned softly, “You’ll make me feel good, right?”

“Of course,” and apparently that was enough for him because, in the next moment, he pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head. Leaving your bare chest exposed to him.

He shifted you slightly. Motioning for you to lay back on the couch. You did, and he was quick to start kissing at your chest. His lips brushed over you collar bone. He kissed down your sternum and reached your belly button before coming back up to kiss your breasts.

You gripped his hair as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Biting at it as he massaged the other one with his hand. He wasn’t wearing his rings right now, but you could only imagine how it would feel. The cold metal against your skin.

With his mouth occupied, you felt a hand slip under the waistband of your shorts and past your panties. You gasped, loudly, when he slid his finger through your folds. He hummed contently when you arched your back into him as he slid the finger into you. Adding another soon after you.

His thumb played with your clit. Slowly. You could tell he wasn’t trying to make you cum right now. He was doing his do-diligence and prepping you. You had no doubt that he could make you cum if he wanted to or else he wouldn’t be so popular with women. You had heard stories about nights with Mingi, and everyone was always overwhelmingly positive about his skills in bed.

Your eyes rolled back slightly when he slipped a third finger into you. Mouth open in a silent moan that came out as nothing more than a little whine, you threw back your head.

Shortly after though, he pulled his fingers out of you. He pulled off your shorts and panties together before ridding himself of his own pants and underwear too. Fuck, he was big. He smirked when he saw you looking, “You can take it. Right baby?”

You nodded breathlessly, “Mhm.”

When he hovered back over you, you gripped at his shirt. Trying to pull it over his head. He helped you out. Reaching behind his back to pull the tee over his head. You would have spent more time admiring his build but he was back to kissing you in an instant. His kisses made you so dizzy. You probably could have just kissed him for hours if you weren’t so undeniably horny.

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t even notice when he’d slipped on a condom. You whined when he slid his length between your folds. He held down your hips when you started to roll them. Begging for something to touch your clit that was almost throbbing for attention.

“Don’t be so greedy, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

And that he did. The moment he slid into you, you lost all control of yourself. Your nails dug into his back as he thrust into you. Painfully slow at first.

“Please,” you begged, “faster…” You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

His thumb furiously rubbed at your clit as he thrust into you. Faster and deeper with every movement of his hips. You gripped at anything you could, his shoulders, his hair, his back.

You were so undeniably lost in your own pleasure. Your mind was foggy. All you could think about was this beautiful man, furiously fucking you, grunting in your ear, and breathing on your neck.

Even though you thought it was impossible, his thumb moved fasted on your clit. When he hit just the right angle you cried out, and he could feel you tighten around him.

“Oh?” he asked between pants, “Right there?”

“Fuck! Yes, right there!” your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your legs shook as they wrapped around his waist, holding him close. With one final movement of his thumb, you came around him. Your walls fluttered as you reached that incredible high. “Oh god!” You cried out.

“Shit,” he grunted, “I’m close, baby. Hold on.” With a couple more thrusts into your sensitive pussy, he came into the condom.

He fell forward on top of you. His arms or either side of your head held him up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your chests both heaved.

“Wow,” you said, breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed you softly, “Was it good?”

You nodded, “Great.”

When you looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, you momentarily forgot that you were not supposed to get your feelings wrapped up in this. Sirens rang in your head as he kissed you again, but, if he was gonna fuck you this good, you could ignore them for just a little longer.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ayyeeee it's done!! i honestly don't know how considering i have midtrems this week 😅 anyways, this has been in the drafts for about two months, and i'm glad i finally decided to start it!

if you enjoyed, please let me know! i absolutely LOVE hearing feedback whether it be through my inbox, comments or reblogs.

not sure when the next chapter will be released, but if you want to join the taglist you can lmk here or sign up here :)

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi series #song mingi x reader #everyonewooeverywhere

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topherwrites · 8 months

Text

- start of a silver fox

summary - back from deployment, you notice a change in your boyfriend's appearance. pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader word count - 1.4k rating - no smut, but 18+ anyways, mdni! content warnings & tags - age gap (reader is in her early twenties, jake is in his early thirties) / fwb to lovers / no use of (y/n) / vague allusions to sex / mentions of nudes / mentions of masturbation / no actual smut / mentions of death (sorta) / lmk if i missed anything! a/n: saw these recent photos of glen ➙ became possessed ➙ wrote this. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

Jake is back after three long months on deployment, a fourth of your relationship — not counting the first couple months when you were ‘just hooking up’. This is your first welcome back. Having texted extensively with Nat’s girlfriend, Sasha, you were given a pretty good lay of the land by her, informed of what to expect.

Homecoming day has arrived, and excitement has consumed your entire body, making your limbs buzz.

Awaiting his arrival on the pier, your foot tapping out a nervous rhythm, you stand in the back, allowing spouses and children to be the first in line. You’re just the girlfriend, the one almost a decade younger than him, the one you know his friends assumed wouldn't be around long. You assumed you wouldn't be around long. Jake is a charmer, and when he set his sights on you, you assumed it would be a one-night stand, a fling at most.

But one night turned into two and then three, which turned into nearly three months of falling asleep and waking up next to him. Most days you’d get a text the second he was done with training, the buzz of your phone always kicking up your heartbeat.

At first, you’d just meet him at The Hard Deck for drinks, then dinner at sit-down restaurants — the preambles to him fucking the shit out of you growing longer and decidedly less casual. Post-coital, he’d sling an arm around your waist in an attempt to keep you from slipping out, waking up with that same soothing weight on you. Eventually, he casually mentioned that you could keep some of your stuff at his place — for convenience, he said. He tried slipping the suggestion under the radar, pre-coffee on a Saturday morning. Bleary-eyed and half-asleep, you barely processed his words, absent-mindedly humming in response.

Then you saw the half-cleared-out drawer — which you later learned was a measure in order not to spook you. Like a full drawer would make you wise to his intentions, like he was trying to acclimate you to the idea of commitment, to a relationship with him.

You remember the feeling of placing spare clothes in that drawer; a spare bra and sweatshirt. Jake watching you from the doorway, trying to not act too pleased in response.

You liked him, his company and his laugh and his baffling love of Taylor Swift that he blamed on his nieces. The man under the bravado wormed his way into your brain.

Though, you could appreciate how he looked puffed-chest and cocksure. Near equally competitive as you are. The first game night you spent with his friends meant you both were banned from ever being on the same team again. Pictionary, trivia, One-Night Ultimate Werewolf — you mopped the floor with them. The rule wasn't entirely the case of sore losers, you can acknowledge the fact that you two were immediately, freakishly in sync. Ultimate Werewolf may have ended in tears of betrayal being shed.

And that's how things progressed for a while, falling deeper while avoiding acknowledging the fact that you were in a relationship. Afraid to say the words and make things complicated. Near everyone in both your and his life were trying to push you both to just trust it. Have a little faith in one another.

One minute you were his girlfriend in all but name, and then you were just his girlfriend. A confession on his couch in the midst of rewatching Veep, ‘Relax, cow eyes’ the soundtrack to everything falling into place.

────────────────────────

Once officers start filtering off the ship, your mind blanks in anxiety. Around you, tears are shed, and poster board is ditched in favor of tight hugs. Laughter and children squealing background noise. You scan the crowd, the sun beating down on you, searching for the handsome shape of Jake Seresin. People come and go, giving you a better view of the naval officers, till you finally spot yours moving towards you. He weaves through the throng with ease, standing before you in a matter of seconds.

A smile stretches your face, eyes squinting from both happiness and the sun. You scan him, categorizing any minute change. Gray. A small streak above his right ear. Your nerve endings light up like a Christmas tree, the sensation doubling at the slight hint of age. Reaching out, your fingers run across his scalp, nails tracing back, playing with the hair that has decided in his relatively brief absence to go gray.

He doesn't shy from your touch, his lashes fluttering at the sensation, an intimate moment playing out in public. Though no one is probably taking notice, wrapped up in their own reunion. He does seem to be a hint abashed at your attention.

He breaks the quiet, “Hey, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice, clear and unobstructed by distance, rushes through you. Fuck. You're trying to suppress the blatant arousal coursing through your system, keep it out of your voice. Words startled, voice pitched, “You've gone gray.”

Despite your age gap, it’s never been your thing, your Tinder age range has only ever been set 3 years older — but seeing Jake in the flesh, and with a few more grays, is making you muster every ounce of self-control so you don't fuck him in the parking lot, ride him in the backseat of his truck. He probably wouldn't enjoy getting dishonorably discharged.

He hefts his duffle over his shoulder, free hand taking your own to lead you to the car — his truck that he handed the keys over to, something in his gaze when he told you to not let the battery die. Maybe a way for him to feel connected to you, maybe a reassurance that you'd be around when he got back. Your board is still in the bed, having taken up surfing in the mornings since your time was no longer being occupied by Jake slowly fucking you into the mattress.

“I already had grays, I'm just… grayer now.” His pace is quick. It's clear that he's itching to get home. Your boots stamp on the pavement as you practically skip behind him, content with his hand in yours. He looks at you out of the side of his eye, eyebrow raised, “And I wonder why that is.”

“That suspiciously sounds like an accusation.”

“Those photos…” He stops at the teal-striped Ford, throwing his duffle next to your surfboard. Crowding you against the side of it., his voice dropping, “I was opening my mail in the mess, ‘bout gave me a heart attack.”

You’d sent them on a whim — a well-researched whim, you didn't need some random desk jockey finding out your taste in lingerie. But you had missed Jake and wanted him to miss you in return. And what better way to make the heart grow fonder than with scantily clad pictures of your body?

“Well? Did you like them?” You know he liked them, it was a whole production to take them, but even if it wasn't — he’s a man, and you were in lingerie. You looked hot, are hot, present tense. An indisputable fact. And he’s not reserved with telling you and showing you that, but you can't pass up a moment to hear it voiced to you, not after how long he’s been gone.

“I think I have carpal tunnel.”

You snort out a laugh as he exaggeratedly shakes out his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist for your amusement. Eyes skating along your features, he huffs, “Add that to the long list of ailments you've inflicted.”

Letting your fingers lightly trace down his biceps, you press your body even closer to his, perhaps a touch too scandalous for a parking lot in broad daylight. A coy reply rolls off your tongue, “I keep you young.”

“You're going to send me to an early grave.”

Rising to your toes, you brush your lips against his, holding back from full contact. You feel his breath stall in his chest, desperate for it. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing, his face awash in anticipation. He’s beautiful.

Your palm stroking the side of his head, you brush the hair away from his face, pinky skimming the top of his ear. You single out the silver strands between your fingers, silky soft as ever. He’s real and yours — home.

“Ditto. Might as well invest in matching plots, right?”

Broad shoulders shaking with laughter, he brushes his nose against yours. Palms cupping the side of your face, thumbs sweeping across your cheeks, he stops waiting. A long-awaited kiss pressed to your lips, neither one of you able to keep the smiles off your faces.

e/n: thank you for reading!

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #my writing

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heeology · 8 months

Text

god, you're annoying | l.hs

synopsis → ever since you and heeseung have come into each others' lives, he has been asking you out and flirting with you nonstop. for years, the cycle of him confessing his feelings to you and you rejecting every single one of his advances seems as though it has gone on forever. being fed up, you develop a plan to pretend as though you already have a boyfriend (spoiler alert: it doesn’t end well). after years of continuously trying to get heeseung off of your radar, you just can’t seem to get rid of him and suddenly (to your surprise), you find yourself not being bothered as much by his presence.

feat. → yeonjun (txt), yunjin (le sserafim), beomgyu (txt), minjeong (aespa), jake (enhypen), sunghoon (enhypen), jay (enhypen)

genre → university AU, enemies to lovers, romance, smut

pairing → nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings → MDNI, kinda long but bear w me pls

w.c. → 9k

disclaimer!! → any other idols mentioned in this story (that I portray are dating) i do not ship irl; this story is a work of fiction a.k.a. something derived from my delusions and imagination, take this story lightly pls and thx.

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

Everyday you walk onto campus and make sure you avoid eye contact with a “certain someone” and even though the outcome always remains the same, you still hope that one day it will actually make a difference. Unfortunately for you, on your campus, there is only one way to get to your morning class which makes this “certain someone” rather happy to know that you practically have to see him everyday. Although you try your best, he never fails to call out your name, even if you try hiding behind other people; he can spot you from a mile away. This, you find to be annoying. He, however, looks forward to this moment every day because what other reason is there to get up early in the morning if it means he doesn’t get to see you?

You hear him call after you as you try to quickly make your way to your first class which, luckily for you, does not include him. You can hear his footsteps hurrying towards you making you break out into a light jog to your classroom door that is just ahead. You reach for the door handle and open it just enough to let yourself in and as you are about to close it behind you, a hand from the other side stops you, forcing it back open enough for you to be face-to-face with the one and only bane of your existence: Lee Heeseung.

He gives you a cocky smile receiving an eye roll from you as you can already hear his irritating voice begin to say a bunch of sentences and words that you couldn’t care any less about because you couldn’t care any less about him. Heeseung is fully aware about how you feel about him and although some most of his actions are–-yes, he’ll admit–-advertently creepy, he means no harm. You, of course, don’t see it that way, but that doesn’t stop him.

“You didn’t hear me calling your name?” he asks, knowing that you did and also knowing that you ignored him, but he just wants to hear any snarky reply you have because that’s the only time when you actually acknowledge his presence.

“Nope, must’ve missed it.” you say in a fake sympathetic tone.

He lets out a “hmm” and you mock him. He smirks, leaning a little closer to you. You would move away, but then you figured he might take that as his chance to open the door more, so you decide to stay put.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me. There is this restaurant that my family and I only go to on special occasions and I think you’ll really like it.”

There it is, him asking you to the same stupid restaurant that you have said no to many (and you mean many) times before. You know what restaurant he is talking about, some way overpriced place that only really rich people go to. You clenched your jaw as your hand gripped the edge of the door a little tighter. He smiled at you, which you thought was him being smug, but rather it was him anticipating your answer. He meant what he said and he just wants to be given a chance to show you how much he likes you.

Him asking you out to this restaurant, always offering to buy your lunch, pay for your snacks, or buy you some other object just felt as him rubbing his money in your face, making all of his attempts seem as though they are a joke; that you are a joke. Ever since middle school, when you and Heeseung had first met, he made his “crush” on you apparent, which all of the other kids found to be funny and ridiculous. You know he doesn’t actually like you and you hate him for still acting like this even though you both are now grown adults and not eleven year old children who still ride in the car with their parent on their way to school everyday.

“Well, if you think I’ll like it, then I’ll surely hate it.” you reply.

“You’re only saying that be-”

“No, Heeseung, I will not go out with you and for the last time: stop bothering me.” you say sternly.

You scowl at him and he can’t help but find you to be adorable. He knows you’re annoyed by him, but there isn’t anyone else he would rather spend his time with other than you, even if his only way to spend time with you is by pestering you constantly.

“I’m just going to ask you again tomorrow.” he says with a smile.

You knew he wasn’t joking about that and that made your blood begin to boil. You hated having to be bothered by him, you hated feeling like a joke, you hated seeing his stupid face everyday, and you hated how it seems like he doesn't even care. You have to put a stop to this, you simply can’t take it anymore. But how? You’ve tried everything, what other way could there possibly be? Then it clicked. You stood up straighter, looking him directly in his eyes. He found himself a little taken aback by your sudden eye contact, but didn’t want to show it; to show how you make him flustered and blush just by simply looking at him.

“Heeseung, I have a boyfriend.” you say, trying not to smile.

You don’t know how you didn’t think of this before, but you’re overjoyed that the idea finally came. His smile drops–for a split second–as he felt the wind practically get knocked out of him like someone had just suckerpunched him in the gut. You were bluffing, you had to be…right?

“Pfft, I don’t believe you.” he says, letting go of the door, only to cross his arms and lean against the doorframe.

You feel your face become hot as you stand your ground, “And what exactly makes you say that?”

“I’ve never seen you with your “boyfriend”.” he says, making air quotes.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

“Well it surely doesn’t mean that you do.”

“I know you stalk me because you have nothing better to do with your life, but that doesn’t mean you know what I do every second of the day.”

He shrugs his shoulders, not buying a word that you are saying. He keeps telling himself that you are lying, but what if that small percentage of possibility actually means you are telling the truth? He doesn’t want to think about that, he has to believe that you are lying.

“Okay, what’s his name, then?” he asks, confident that you won’t have an answer.

Shit. How do you answer that? You try not to show your worry in your expression and quickly try to come up with an answer. You open your mouth to speak, hoping the words that do end up coming out make sense.

“Yeonjun.” you reply.

Well, you said a name and that’s all that counts. Sure, it’s the name of your best friend’s boyfriend, but she won’t mind if you use him for a lie…right? Now it’s Heeseung’s turn for him to clench his jaw. He scoffs, rolling his eyes before looking back at you.

“Then how come I’ve never seen you with him on campus?”

“Because he goes to another school, idiot.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Through my best friend; they go to school together.”

You could see him become more annoyed with your answers as you tried to say them with as much confidence as possible.

“I still don’t believe you.” he says, less certain of what he is saying than before.

You’re so close and you know it, you just need to say something that will make him back-off once and for all.

“I’ll have him bring me to school tomorrow.” you said, now being the one to cross your arms as you smiled smugly.

Heeseung felt his blood run cold, terror now coursing through his veins. Were you actually telling the truth? He didn’t want to see you with some other guy, most definitely not someone who you are claiming to be your boyfriend. The thought made him both upset and annoyed. What do they have that he doesn’t? He’s the one who has been trying to show how much he likes you for years now and some rando comes in and sweeps you off of your feet? Over his dead body.

“Okay,” he says while standing up from leaning on the door, “I can’t wait to see you and a bunch of air walk into school tomorrow.”

“You still think I’m lying?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking away before looking back at you.

“I just find it hard to believe.”

“That I have a boyfriend?”

“You could say that.”

Man, you couldn’t wait to prove him wrong (even though he is technically right). You fake laugh at his reply and stop as you grab his hand. He feels butterflies erupt in his stomach from your sudden contact and is so distracted that he isn’t even paying attention to what you are doing, which is putting his hand on the door frame. You plaster on a fake smile before quickly swinging the door shut. He snaps out of his daze and moves his hand out of the way just in time before it could have been smashed by the door.

Beomgyu didn’t think to even hold back his laughter once the words left your mouth and although the music in the club was blaring through the speakers, you could still hear his piercing voice. The others, however, were a little more surprised to hear what you had said, especially Yunjin and Yeonjun. You had a guilty smile on your face as you exchanged glances between the two and then Yeonjun scoffed. He raised his glass in a ‘cheers’ manner and Yunjin slapped his shoulder.

“It’s honestly not that bad of a plan,” Minjeong says, trying to defuse the tension, “Yunjin, you know better than any of us here how badly this guy bothers her.”

Yunjin sighs before she chugs the rest of her drink from her cup. “You can borrow my boyfriend on one condition: it doesn’t go too far.” She says, pointing between you and Yeonjun.

You both look at each other and cringe. Yeonjun puts his arm around Yunjin and she smiles. He kisses her temple, “As if that would ever happen.”

“So how exactly are you going to convince him?” Yunjin asks.

You chug the rest of your drink, wincing as the alcohol burns your throat. “Is it cool if Yeonjun takes me to school tomorrow? I was thinking all he has to do is walk me to my class and just essentially tell Heeseung to back off.”

“He’s not going to do it unless he believes it.” Beomgyu points out as he leans back into the booth.

“He’s right, him walking you into school isn’t going to be enough to convince him; he sounds persistent.” Minjeong agrees.

“The most he is allowed to do is kiss you on the cheek to make it believable, but that’s it.” Yunjin says looking at Yeonjun to make sure he understands.

“I don’t get a say in whether or not I agree to this?” Yeonjun asks, looking at everyone, but landing on you.

“No.” the rest of you say in unison.

He laughs before finishing his drink. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

Even as Yeonjun pulls his motorcycle to a stop in front of your campus, he can still feel your fingernails practically digging into his stomach.

He lifts up the visor on his helmet, “Can you please stop trying to claw your way into my intestines?”

You let go of him all together and he lets out the breath that he has been holding in.

“Sorry.” you say, it sounding muffled under the helmet. He smiles, taking off his helmet after getting off the bike. He sets his helmet down and holds out his hand for you to take. You take it, him helping you off, before he helps you take off the helmet. “Thanks.” you say and he shrugs his shoulders as a reply.

He glances over his shoulder, noticing people looking at him and you, whispering. “So, which one is the stalker?” he asks, trying to be discreet.

You turn your head to look, not seeing Heeseung anywhere, oddly enough. You scoff, “The one day he isn’t here is the day that you bring me.” you roll your eyes and Yeonjun shrugs.

“Well, see you later.”

“Woah-wait. I still need you to walk me.” you say, grabbing one of his shoulders to stop him from leaving.

“What? Why? You just said he isn’t here.”

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t need reinforcements.”

Yeonjun groans, but turns back around to face your campus. You clear your throat before reaching to hold his hand. You intertwine your fingers, looking at each other through the corners of your eyes, confirming that you’re ready to go. You walk hesitantly at first, but the further you get, Yeonjun releases his hand from yours to put his arm around you. Low and behold, once you made your way to the front of your class, Heeseung was there waiting right beside the door.

He, of course, hadn’t been there the whole time. He was pacing back and forth in the bathroom before working up the courage to actually make his way to your class, a part of him hoping he had just missed you so he wouldn’t actually have to see you with someone else. Yet there you are, walking up to him (well, your class), with some dude who looked like he was trying too hard to be cool with his arm around you. He felt sick and the closer you came, the more he felt like vomiting.

You smiled, stopping in front of your class door with Yeonjun.

“Oh Heeseung, you’re actually here, I thought you chickened out.”

He smiles, annoyed. His gaze shifts over to Yeonjun and Yeonjun smirks.

“So this is Heeseung?” He asks, eyeing him up and down.

Heeseung pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek. He looks back at Yeonjun and eyes him up and down before crossing his arms. Although he currently feels sick to his stomach, he’s still a little suspicious.

“Am I supposed to believe you’re her boyfriend?”

Yeonjun scoffs, crossing his arms, “You can believe what you want,” he steps closer to Heeseung, leaning close to his ear making Heeseung tense up, “but you better stop messing with her regardless.”

He pulls back, smiling at Heeseung and patting one of his shoulders. Heeseung scowls, wiping off his shoulder as Yeonjun turns to you. You smile at him, ignoring Heeseungs glares.

“Have a good day, babe.” he says before kissing you on your cheek. He glances back over his shoulder before snickering at Heeseung and walking away.

You smile proudly at Heeseung while he looks at you in complete and utter shock. Did he just see what he think he just saw? He couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to believe it.

“Well,” you say, making him snap out of his thoughts, “you heard him: stop bothering me.” you say before going into your class.

“I heard from some people that he has a motorcycle and he brought her on it today.” Jake says while taking some food off of Sunghoon’s tray, earning a glare from him.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, clenching his fork harder in his hand. “I don’t get it, he’s not even her type.”

Sunghoon laughs and Heeseung scowls at him. “How would you know? You’re not exactly close with her.”

“I think it’s time for you to just leave her alone, you’ve been bugging her since we were kids.” Jay comments.

Heeseung goes quiet. Should he give up? He reminisces about the time he first saw you, laughing with your friend, and the only thing he could think about was how pretty you look when you smile. He isn’t the type to hide how he feels and he thought you would be pleasantly surprised by how open he is about how he feels about you, but when you rejected him after he bought you your favorite drink, he was confused. He didn’t want to give up, though, because all he wanted was to be able to make you laugh just like when he first saw you.

“Jay’s right, the joke has gone on for long enough.” Jake adds.

Heeseung looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Joke? What are you talking about?”

Before Jake can answer, a girl walks up and takes a seat in one of the open chairs at the table. Everyone’s eyes go to her as she smiles.

“Hi,” she says shyly, “Heeseung, can I speak with you privately?”

“No, thanks.” he replies, continuing to eat his food.

Jake tries to suppress his laugh and Jay kicks him from under the table. Jake’s smile falls as he kicks Jay back.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” Jay warns.

“You started it.” Jake mumbles.

“Well, I was just wondering,” everyone looks back at the girl, momentarily forgetting she was even there, “if you would like to get coffee with me after school.” she says, moving some of her hair behind her ear.

“No, thanks.” Heeseung says in the same uninterested tone as before, not bothering to spare her another glance as he continues eating.

She sits there, a little taken aback as an awkward silence settles. Sunghoon clears his throat before taking another bite of his food. The girl stands up and walks away, not bothering to push back in the chair; Jay and Jake watch her as she leaves.

“She was cute, why did you say no?” Jake asks.

“We know why.” Jay says, drinking some of his water.

“You’ve been turning down every girl that asks you out for years, don’t you want to at least try and date someone?” Jake asks.

Heeseung groans and sets down his fork. “What’s the point? No one else is worth the time.”

“You all should have seen his face.” Yeonjun beams as you and your friend group continue roaming throughout the mall.

“So, it worked?” Minjeong questioned and you nodded your head happily.

“I didn’t see him for the rest of the day and he didn’t say anything else once Yeonjun left.” you replied happily.

“And there was nothing more than a kiss on the cheek?” Yunjin questioned.

“Of course.” Yeonjun says, kissing her quickly.

You and the others groan as they both just smile at each other.

“Oh!” Minjeong says, grabbing your hand. You look at her and then the store she was looking at, “They finally restocked the perfume I was telling you about.”

“I can’t afford that.”

She rolls her eyes, “You can’t, but I can, now come on.” she says, pulling you with her.

“I’d rather not be stuck with you two sickos, so I’m going to go with them.” Beomgyu states to Yunjin and Yeonjun before heading off to follow you and Minjeong.

Yeonjun grimaces and mocks Beomgyu as he walks off and Yunjin laughs.

As much as Heeseung would rather have gone home straight after classes than come to the mall to help Jake pick out a new keyboard, he came anyway due to his friend’s consistent pestering.

“You’re paying me back for gas money, I hope you know that.” Heeseung mumbles.

Jake scoffs, “You’re richer than I am, besides, friends carpool other friends.” Heeseung rolls his eyes as he and Jake make their way to the store. Heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but is caught off guard by loud giggling coming across from where he and Jake are. Both of them look in the direction of where the noise is coming from to see Yeonjun and Yunjin laughing, her hitting his shoulder playfully and him scattering kisses on her face. Heeseung stops dead in his tracks. Jake stops walking and looks between Heeseung and the couple. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Heeseung could feel anger surging through his body. Isn’t that guy your boyfriend? Why was he so publicly flirting with this other girl? Is he cheating on you? Unknown to him, Heeseung was walking towards the two, blinded by rage. Jake tries to call after him, but it just sounded like static to Heeseung. Jake rushes to catch up to him, trying to figure out what he was going to do and why he was even doing something in the first place. Heeseung stands in front of Yeonjun, making both Yeonjun and Yunjin turn their attention towards him.

“Shit.” Yeonjun mumbles.

Heeseung didn’t have the patience to ask any questions, he knew he was right in the first place. This guy had some nerve to hurt you like this, so before anyone had another chance to say a word, Heeseung clenched his hand into a fist and punched Yeonjun in the face.

“What the hell!?” Yunjin exclaims, grabbing onto Yeonjun’s arm as he falls to the ground.

Heeseung didn’t pay any attention to the throbbing pain from his hand and raises his fist to punch him again, but Jake stops him. Yeonjun touches his face, blood dripping from his nose as he looks up at Heeseung, clenching his jaw in anger.

“You son of a b-”

“Don’t start with that, you’re the one cheating.”

Yunjin scoffs and stands up to slap Heeseung. “You have some nerve to punch my boyfriend, asshole.”

“What the hell is going on?” Beomgyu questions as you, him, and Minjeong come out from the store.

You look around to see the chaos that has ensued as well as people starting to crowd around all of you.

“This idiot punched my boyfriend because he thinks he’s cheating on you.” Yunjin says shooting you a glare as she helps Yeonjun off of the floor.

“You did what?” you turn to Heeseung.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend? Why aren’t you upset that he’s cheating on you?” Heeseung asks, confused and starting to feel the pain from his hand as the adrenaline and anger start to subside.

You open your mouth to say something, but Yunjin interrupts you. “Maybe because he isn’t actually her boyfriend.”

Heeseung looks between you and her, confused.

“Bu-”

“They only pretended to be dating because she wanted you to back off.” Yunjin seethed.

Heeseung wasn’t sure how to process all of this information, let alone, he wasn’t even sure if he was.

“Yunjin-” you try to apologize, but she pushes past you with Yeonjun. You try to grab her hand, but she pulls away and turns to you.

“It went too far.” she says, trying to control her temper before turning around to walk away with Yeonjun.

You turn to look at Minjeong and Beomgyu, but they both just look at each other awkwardly.

“We should probably go with them.” Beomgyu says.

Minjeong nods her head, agreeing, but before they both walk past you, she stops, “I’m sure if you try talking to her tomorrow, she’ll forgive you.”

You bite the inner part of your cheek as they walk away. The crowd starts to disperse, still earning a few questioning glances from those passing by. You glare at Heeseung and begin to walk away.

“Look, I didn’t-” he tries to explain, but you cut him off by turning around, now face-to-face with him.

Tears sting as they begin to brim your eyes. There are so many things you could say to him right now, so many things to yell, but for once you find yourself to be at a loss. He too, is also at a loss for words. Seeing you look at him this way, tears in your eyes, he feels so ashamed and embarrassed.

“Just leave me alone.” you say through shallow breaths, trying your hardest not to cry in front of him.

You knew to him this was all some sick joke, so you doubt he would actually listen to you, but you hoped there was some small part of him that would finally see you never found any of this to be funny and that he has finally taken it too far.

You have never dreaded walking to your class this morning more than you do at this very moment; you just don’t have the energy to put up with Heeseung now or even ever again. You tried texting Yunjin, but she never replied let alone even opened the messages. You were so wrapped up in your emotions you didn’t even realize you made it to your class in peace. Relieved was an understatement about how you were currently feeling, but you also felt oddly sick.

Although you didn’t want him bothering you, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the fact that he didn’t even try to apologize once while you were on your way to class. It was the least he could do, afterall. He pretty much destroyed your friendships with your closest friends and now that he’s had his fun, he no longer felt the need to keep up the act? The more you thought about it, the more angry you became. You knew you hated him before, but you’ve never been this furious with him, not even at his attempts to rub his wealth in your face by buying you things. No, this was a new low, even for him, but you keep trying to tell yourself you should’ve seen it coming.

“Oh hell no.” Yunjin mumbles before standing up from the steps she and the others were sitting on. Heeseung approaches cautiously as he feels their eyes burning into him with their intensive stares. “You really are a stalker, how did you even know what university I go to?” she asks, crossing her arms defensively.

“It’s in our high school yearbooks, everyone put where they were going.” he replied. Yunjin scowls, hoping he would get the idea and leave once and for all. “I came to apologize. I just-” he pauses, looking away while clenching his jaw before looking back at them. “I’m sorry I punched you.” he says to Yeonjun.

Yeonjun looks at him, unimpressed.

“You suck at apologizing.” Yunjin states.

“I thought he was cheating! I didn’t know-” he groans, becoming frustrated. He tries to calm down, running his hand through his hair before speaking again. “All I want to say is that I really am sorry, I was just trying to look out for your friend, okay? She deserves better and when I saw who I thought was her boyfriend kissing someone else, I just…handled things poorly.”

Yeonjun gets up to stand next to Yunjin, draping his arm around her shoulders. “I get it, you didn’t know.”

Yunjin scoffs, “You’ve officially taken this joke of yours too far, so stop acting like you care about her and just admit it already.”

“Why does everyone think I’m joking?” he asks, both frustrated and genuinely.

“Everyone in school knew you were joking. I thought you took it too far back when you bought her a pair of some new, expensive shoes.”

Is that really how everyone saw it? Is that really how you see it?

“I bought her the shoes because she had her old ones for years and had bandaids for the blisters she was clearly getting. I also bought her extra bandages, did you forget about that?”

Yunjin stops scowling, “So you aren’t just messing with her because she rejected you?”

“Of course not, I really care about her. I know I annoy her, but I never thought she would think I was doing all of this just to hurt her feelings.”

Yunjin stands there for a second, questioning whether or not she believes him.

“You’re right,” she starts, making eye contact with Heeseung, “she deserves the best.” It falls quiet again for a moment, mainly because Yunjin is wondering whether or not she wants to give him a chance to prove himself to you. “We’re going to meet at the club downtown around ten, if you really mean what you say, you should come.”

Heeseung stands there, stunned. Does this mean she believes him? Does this mean they all believe him? Does this mean you’ll believe him? As they walk away from the steps, they all look at him, but not the same way they did when he first came over; skeptical. They all looked at him like they wanted what he said to be true and tonight is the night he is going to prove it.

You walked into the club, anxious, yet grateful that Yunjin finally responded to one of your messages. You wanted tonight to be like any other night that you all hang out here, like everything was back to normal; like it was before the whole debacle with Heeseung at the mall. You made your way past the crowds of people through the darkly lit club, over to the booth you all usually sit at.

“Hey.” you say, trying not to sound awkward.

Yunjin sheepishly smiles, “Hey.” she says.

“Are you guys going to kiss and make up now?” Beomgyu asks, honestly over all of the drama.

Everyone laughs and Minjeong hands you your usual drink as you all make your way to the dance floor. From there, you move your body to the music, just wanting to let go of all the stress you’ve been under lately. Dancing along with your friends, having a good time, is all you care about at this very moment. You were enjoying yourself, feeling confident in the outfit you chose to wear paired along with the light buzz from the alcohol you were drinking. You closed your eyes as you soaked it all in; it felt like nothing could disrupt this feeling.

“Wow…” you hear someone say before they trail off.

You open your eyes and freeze. You know this voice a little all-too-well. Your grip on the glass you are holding in your hand becomes tighter as you slowly turn towards the person who was speaking. Your eyes lock with Heeseungs as he looks at you in awe. You look stunning and he felt like all of the air from his lungs had escaped the second he saw you; breathless. You walk closer to him, so he wouldn’t get any crazy ideas and try to do something else to your friends, but as you got closer to him you couldn’t help but think about how nice he smells. You shake the thought from your head as you look up at him, your eyes meeting once again.

All thoughts you previously had were now gone; he made your mind go blank. Have his eyes always been this pretty? No…what the hell are you thinking? Pull yourself together.

“Do you take nothing I say seriously?” you manage to blurt out.

He smiles, happy that you’re talking to him (and just because he’s happy to see you in general).

“For all the years you’ve known me, you should know better than anyone else that I can’t stay away from you.” he replies before smirking.

That smug attitude thankfully snapped you out of whatever weird thoughts you were having earlier and brought you back to reality: he’s a prick. You roll your eyes and push yourself past him as you head to the bar to return your glass. You set the glass down a little harsher than you anticipated and Heeseung follows you as you make your way out of the club. He calls after you, but you ignore him. Nothing is going to change, apparently. But as you’ve said to yourself before: you really shouldn’t be surprised.

Heeseung stops calling after you and instead catches up to you, grabbing your hand gently so you would stop walking away from him. You turn to face him, looking down at your hands for a split second, feeling a different kind of buzz result from it. You try to shake his hand away, but he doesn’t budge. You meet his eyes, feeling your heart begin to race. As much as you tried to stop, something was happening, and you were certainly not a huge fan.

“I spoke with your friends earlier and apologized.”

He did what? Wait…have you been hallucinating this whole time? That would explain why you suddenly feel this way because you know, not in any lifetime, would you possibly have feelings for Lee Heeseung.

“How?” is all you could manage to say.

Your mind was running a thousand miles a minute, not really in any shape to hold any kind of conversation, but especially not one with Heeseung.

“I made a mistake. I have a lot of things I want to apologize to you for.”

He spoke so gently and sweetly; it was like he was hypnotizing you. The streets were oddly quiet, not too many people, but you could still hear the music from the club. You found yourself staring at him in amazement. The fluorescent lights from the signs of stores nearby and the streetlights felt as though they were shining on the both of you, like you two were the only people who matter.

“What?” is all you can think to say.

“I’m sorry I’ve been bothering you to the point where you felt like you had no other choice but to lie.” he says, taking a step closer to you. “I’m sorry I made you and your friend fight.” he takes another step closer to you. You felt your breath hitch as your eyes traveled along his figure. Has he always looked this good in a black button up and black pants? It doesn’t help that his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you find yourself staring at his arms.

He waits for you. He waits for you while he clearly sees you checking him out and it’s turning him on. God, you look so beautiful and the way you are looking at him, slowly taking in everything about him as if you are seeing him for the first time makes him want to kiss you; it makes him want to do a lot more. When your eyes meet his again, he takes this as an opportunity to step closer to you, placing his other hand on your cheek, gently cupping your face. He wants to be gentle because you are one of the most precious things to him. He leans close to your face, each others’ breath scattering lightly along one anothers face.

“And I’m sorry,” he whispers as he rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek, still looking into your eyes, “for making you feel like a joke.”

You feel yourself tense up. “Was it? All a joke…” you trail off, not necessarily sure what you want to happen next.

He continues looking into your eyes, never looking away because he wants you to know that he is being serious; that he means every word he says.

“Not for a second.” he replies.

You think back to everything he has done for you in a new perspective. How he would leave your favorite snack on your desk on test days, notes telling you how well you did after a presentation, volunteering to be your partner because he didn’t want you to feel alone or left out, buying you your favorite drink if you forgot to bring money for it, and asking you out to a restaurant that holds a special meaning to him and he only wants to share it with you.

You want to kiss him, but you find yourself pulling away instead. He looks at you, confused, as you separate yourself from him, letting go of his hand.

“I should get home. You know how early my morning class is.” you say while looking at the ground.

“Are you walking home? This late?”

You step back a little bit, finally looking back at him and you smile nervously. “I usually take the bus, but I think I missed the last one, so yeah, I guess I am.” you say kind of bunched together. Are you nervous?

“I can just drive you home.” he says, not really offering, more like telling.

You shake your head as your eyes shift to one of the cars in front of the club. You recognized it as his since he drives it to school everyday. A small, small part of you would love to ride in it, but you can walk home yourself (even if you also know it’s a bad idea).

“Yeah, I’m not letting you walk home alone this late.” he says, no longer wondering why you pulled away from him, but more concerned for your safety. He reaches for your hand and you let him take it, even if you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. You both walk over to his car and he opens the door for you to get in. You look at him and he looks back at you, not intending on budging from his offer. You roll your eyes playfully as you get into the car. He closes the door and walks over to get into the driver's seat. He gets in and closes the door before starting his engine. You sit there, a little surprised you were even in his car in the first place. “You kind of need to put on your seatbelt.” he says, nodding his head towards the seatbelt that you left untouched.

You laugh nervously, but for some reason, you still don’t think to move to put it on. He sighs, smiling to himself at your cuteness, before leaning over to grab the seatbelt, slowly extending it over your body before clicking it into place. He looks at you, your faces inches apart, and you feel your breathing quicken once again. His heart begins to beat faster, but he can’t stop looking at you; you’re stunning. He manages to pull himself away, worried he might make you feel uncomfortable, before putting on his own seatbelt and putting the car in drive.

“Do you want to tell me how to get to your house?” he asks as he pulls out of the parking spot.

Your eyes widen. Right, your house. A house that--you assume--is nowhere near as nice as his house. What if once he sees just how different you two are he will stop liking you? What if he was lying before and this was his final cruel attempt to make fun of you? You shake your head.

“I would rather not tell you.”

He steps on the brake, turning his head to look at you.

“You…don’t want to tell me?”

You shake your head, hoping he’ll give up and let you out of the car. You hear him let out a tut, making you turn your head to look at him.

“Would you rather I take you to my place?” he asks, trying not to sound nervous.

Not particularly, you kind of already planned on going to bed once you got back home, but you stayed quiet, leaving him to answer his own question. He sighs, releasing his foot off the brake.

Heeseung pulls up to a gate that guards a huge house behind it. Your mouth falls a little agape as you look at it, thinking about how the driveway is the size of your own home. He puts in the code, opening the gate, and driving up the huge driveway. He parks the car and turns off the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt before looking at you.

“Do you need me to unbuckle it for you?” he asks while smirking.

You kind of want him to, but you opt for doing it yourself. You both get out of the car and he waits for you before he begins to lead the way. You can’t stop looking around as you two walk up the stairs leading to the (in your opinion) oversized doors, to which he opens and lets you walk in first. The house is even more luxurious on the inside than it is on the outside, which you honestly didn’t think could be possible. He shuts the door behind him and you both take off your shoes. You feel out of place, starting to feel insecure. The guy with all of this money to have this grand living room with a huge television, windows covering the walls and expensive furniture littered everywhere claims to like you? And has for years? You were starting to find it hard to believe again.

“I hope this is okay.” he says, breaking the silence.

You weren’t sure what he meant, but you assume he’s hoping it’s okay that he brought you here. He starts heading for the staircase and you follow behind, still taking in your surroundings. He leads you to his room, and you decide to stand by the doorframe. To you, it doesn’t seem like the downstairs even needs a living room since he already has a couch and t.v. in his room along with a big bed laying on a platform and more windows for walls. A beep is heard and the curtains for his windows start automatically covering them and the two lamps on his bedside tables turn on. He looks back at you, smiling at your expression that he finds to be adorable.

“You can come in, you know.” he says as he rummages through some drawers.

You hesitantly walk into his room, somehow just noticing how nice it smells, and find the confidence to walk up the few steps to his bed to take a seat. You turn your head to look around some more and Heeseung looks up, stopping what he is doing upon seeing you on his bed. You are on his bed. Is he dreaming? He honestly never thought this day would come and he clears his throat to try and calm his nerves, making you look at him.

“What are you doing?” you finally ask.

He grabs what he came in for and walks over to you holding out the clothes he picked himself.

“The guest rooms don’t have any clothes in them, so you can borrow mine.”

Did he just say “rooms” as in plural, like multiple?

“Right, naturally.” you tease.

He smiles and you stand to grab the clothes from him. You hold them as you look up at him, once again meeting his eyes. That feeling starts to form again, the one where you don’t want to stop looking at him and certainly don’t want him to stop looking at you.

“I forgive you.” you whisper.

He looks confused for a second before he understands what you mean. He smiles.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the atmosphere, the way he smells, the way he’s looking at you, or all three combined, but before you can even process what you are doing, you are tossing the clothes he handed you onto the floor and pulling him by the collar to kiss you.

Holy. Shit. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. One of your hands moves to hold the side of his neck while the other moves to the back of his hair as you start running your fingers through it, gripping it here and there. He moves his hands to hold your waist, squeezing them lightly from anticipation, as he kisses you back. He gains more confidence, pulling you as closely as possible to him, as he deepens the kiss. He is desperate for you, he is desperate to show you how he feels. He lifts you up and your legs wrap around his waist, him carefully carrying you and placing you onto his bed. He lays you down as you two continue to kiss, him pulling away from your lips and beginning to leave a trail of light, breathy, kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. Your chest raises from the deep breath you take and he swears he is going to lose his mind from looking at you in your current state. The state he is currently leaving you in.

His hands roam your body, wanting to feel every inch of you.

“Heeseung…” you say breathlessly, practically sending him over the edge.

He can feel his erection growing and you saying his name like that makes his cock ache harder. He pulls away from leaving hickeys along your chest, pulling you up by the waist so he can lift your dress off of you. He pulls it over your head and you help him, throwing the dress off to the side. He rests his forehead on yours, trying to calm his breathing and you begin to palm his erection. He whines, moving your hand away before laying you back down. His eyes scan your body, now realizing you were never wearing a bra. There you are, laying on his bed in nothing other than your underwear and he has to try and collect himself before he cums in his pants at just the mere sight of you. His right hand begins to travel up your leg, his fingers lightly running along your skin as he continues to look at you, look at every inch of you. His fingers travel past your hip up to your breasts where he cups one of them, earning a small gasp from you.

He bites the inner part of his cheek, trying to contain himself as he fondles your breast, playing with your nipple, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. He leans down to leave light kisses on your shoulder, looking at your face between each one, going down and stopping at your other breast before latching his mouth around your nipple. You bite your lip, one of your hands comes to grip his hair. He moans as he swirls his tongue around your nipple, occasionally flicking it. He felt drunk and so incredibly turned on. He stops fondling your other breast with his hand and lightly trails his fingers down to your underwear, sticking his hand inside. You gasp again, his fingers feeling a little cold as he runs them along your wet folds.

Fuck he was making you feel good and you let out a moan, making him smirk. He sticks a finger in, making you grip his hair a little harder, and so he sticks in two. You moan again and he pulls away from your breast to kiss you as his fingers pump in and out of you. You’ve become so wet that you start to cover his hand in your wetness, the sound of his hand coming in constant contact with your pussy starting to fill the room. You feel yourself become close and your mouth falls agape. He stops kissing you and pulls back as well as pulling his fingers out of you. You open your eyes, the dim lights suddenly being so bright as you try to process what is happening.

He brings his fingers to his lips, licking off your arousal from them. His eyes close as he inhales deeply, consumed by the taste of you.

“Please, Heeseung…” you start to plead.

He opens his eyes and figures he can’t leave you without what you want. So, in honor of a fair trade since he feels intoxicated by your taste, he takes off your underwear and throws your legs over his shoulders as he positions his face in front of your pussy. You swallow harshly as you feel his breath on you before he licks a stripe along your core, causing your eyes to roll back a little bit and your back arch at the sudden contact. His hands grip the sides of your thighs as he indulges in you, licking up every last drop of you before making his way to your clit and sucking on it.

“Fuck, Heeseung…” you moan out breathlessly.

He’s too consumed by your taste to notice and he pulls you more into his face. He moans into you, one of his hands leaving your thigh as he starts to finger you again. He hears you moaning and gasping, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Just the sight of you causes him to pick up his pace, his fingers rapidly going in and out of you and the more you moan, the more turned on he gets. You feel yourself become closer, gripping the sheets as you call out his name. That mixed with the taste of you on his tongue makes him moan. You taste so good, you look so beautiful, he feels like the luckiest man alive to have you call out his name. He sucks harder and pumps faster as he moans into you, cumming in his pants.

Your head falls deeper into the pillow you were laying on as you release yourself all over his fingers, mouth, and face. His movements begin to slow down as he calms down from his high and he pulls away, seeing your legs shaking a bit. He sits back, taking your legs off of his shoulders and you look at him. His face is flushed and shiny because of your cum, which he didn’t mind. He licked his fingers again, trying to catch his breath afterwards and you find the energy to sit up.

You pull him in for a kiss and his hands land on your ass, squeezing it. You moan and reach your slightly shaky hands up to the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them. You pull away as you take the shirt off of him, throwing it to the side. This time, you leave a trail of kisses from his jaw to his neck, his mouth falling agape from pleasure. He was becoming hard again and so you started to undo his belt as well as the button and zipper on his pants. You can hear him let out shallow breaths, and he pulls you back to kiss him on the lips. You kiss each other with so much need, and as you start taking off his pants, he pulls away to take them off himself.

You watch as he does, seeing his bulge through his underwear along with the cum stain from earlier. You smirk, which makes him feel a little shy.

“Come here.” you say, your eyes flicking back to meet his.

He listens, and you move each other so he is now the one laying back as you sit between his legs. He swallows harshly, completely turned on by the sight of your bare self looking at him in such a sinful way. Fuck, he wants you to ruin him. You keep eye contact with him as you lightly grab the edge of his boxers. His breath hitches as he becomes increasingly more nervous and he bites his lip as you run your pointer finger over his v-line. You smirk, slowly pulling his boxers off of him and finally letting his aching cock free. You cast aside his boxers, lightly running your fingers along his length, making him let out little moans, trying to decide what you want to do next. Seeing him like this, you decide you can’t wait any longer, so you position yourself over his cock, one hand holding onto his shoulder as the other guides it into your cunt.

You both throw your heads back as you let out a moan in unison. You slowly sank onto his length and he watched in awe. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening and when you finally settled fully onto his cock, his mind felt fuzzy. You felt so fucking good and here you were, riding his dick with hickies all over your chest and neck made by him. Consumed by his thoughts, he gripped your hips a little bit harsher as he let out a stifled breath. You look at him, wondering what was happening, but feeling his cock twitch inside of you and him letting out a string of moans and apologies answered your question quickly as he came inside of you.

His breathing settled after his release and he looks at you, eyes a little hazy, but full of pleasure; he looked so fucked out.

“I’m so sorry.” he half whispers and half exclaims.

He really meant it and to be honest, he was kind of embarrassed. You shake your head.

“Don’t be,” you say, starting to rock your hips, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure, “it was hot.” You pick up your speed and call out his name from how good he is making you feel. “Shit…” you whine as you start to lose momentum from the pleasure. He notices and adjusts himself so he is laying a little bit lower to which he slings his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a small yelp as he hoists his hips up, thrusting into you, fast and deep. “Fuck…” you call out into his ear, making him pick up his pace.

Moans mixed with the sound of his cock rutting into you fills the room and you grip the sheets as you feel yourself clench around him.

“Fuck-” Heeseung starts, but is cut off by his own moans from being close to his climax.

He thrusts into you faster and you clench around him harsher, your legs shaking as you cum all over his dick. He grips your waist harsher and clenches his jaw, breathy moans still escaping through his teeth as he cums–once again–inside of you. He does a few more thrusts to ride out his high before pulling out of your throbbing cunt. You both lay there for a moment, you still on top of him, trying to catch your breath.

“So…” Heeseung starts. You lift your head slightly to look him in the eyes and he smiles sheepishly, “does this mean you’ll go on that date with me?” he asks, hopeful.

You roll your eyes, “God, you’re annoying.” you say before smiling.

2K notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 4 months

Text

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

436 notes · View notes

spaceintruderdetector · 1 year

Photo

https://archive.org/details/TheEmergingShield/mode/2up

#distant early warning #cold war #radar #paranoia

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desert-fern · 1 year

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 1 - The Seal in the Bar

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*the GIF belongs to @unicornships , but I found it on Pinterest for some reason*

A/N: So here we are! I am absolutely blown away by the response that my teaser generated, holy shit! And because you all seem to love Bear as much as I do, and because you crazy people have brought me to over 100 followers in 2 days, I figured that I would release Part 1 sooner than I planned!

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death (kill count and maybe a few other things), Jake being a flirt (which is it’s own warning)

Word Count: 2.5k

Read on Wattpad or AO3

Teaser >> Part 2

===

It was a miserable day when Jake walked into the Hard Deck. Training had been canceled due to shit weather and no matter how much of a workout he had had earlier, he was still as nervous as a scared cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The weather wasn’t helping either. It had been raining nearly all day, letting up for maybe 20 minutes at a time before it came pouring down again. Climate change was a serious concept, but right now it was fucking with his plans and his job and Jake very much wanted it to stop. Taking a quick glance around, he saw that there were a few patrons in the bar, mostly older men just sitting and drinking in near silence, the jukebox playing some classic rock song just loud enough to be heard. He had promised to meet Coyote here around 5 and seeing as he was early, Jake went ahead to order a drink. “Hey Penny.”

“Hangman,” Penny replied with a smile. “Your usual?”

“Nah, not drinking tonight. Too antsy. Just a water and Javy’s usual, thanks.” The blond glanced around the room as Penny went to grab his drinks and his eyes fell on a woman sitting quietly in the corner of the room, silently watching each and every person in the bar with an almost clinical gaze. His curiosity got the better of him and Jake grabbed his order before making his way over to the corner table. “That seat taken?” He asked with his usual sly grin on his face.

The woman glanced up at him, eyes flicking over him quickly before quirking a brow. “And what if it was?” she replied coolly, a narrow gaze pinning him to the spot. She took a sip of the drink in front of her, eyes never leaving his face.

“Well I’d like to think that I’d be better company than your imaginary friend here,” Jake said, trying to regain his footing. The woman was intimidating; sharp eyes that seemed to never miss a thing and a face that he recognized as one he made when the weariness hit on occasion.

“Is that painful for you, Flyboy? The thinking?”

Jake was taken aback by her snark. Normally he’d respond, fire an insult of two back, but he kept his mouth shut for once, watching for even just a flicker of emotion on the woman’s face. But there wasn’t any. She just looked bored. So Jake did something that he would almost never do, he walked away, set his drinks down on a table near the door and waved Javy down when his friend walked in.

A few drinks later and the bar had begun to fill with people. Other Daggers had popped up, joining Jake and Coyote and Jake was relieved to fall back into his cocky pilot facade he used in public. It was only when he went back up to the bar some hours later to grab another round for the group that he saw her again. “Grab another round, Penny?”

“Give me just a minute, Hangman.” Penny gave him a nod and a smile before adding ice to a cup for someone else and handing it off.

“Hangman huh?” A voice near him spoke up. A quick turn and there stood the woman from earlier. This time however, she was standing up, and he admired the tone and definition of her arm under the tight black shirt she wore. “Must be military then.”

“What gave it away?” He asked, glancing over at his friends before looking back at her.

A sharp grin. “Maybe the fact that you hang out with guys named ‘Coyote’ and ‘Payback’. That, and you just have the look about you,” she finished, taking a swig of her drink.

“You got it right, sweetheart,” Jake flirted, leaning his forearms on the bar and turning to look at her. “One of the best in the room.”

Bear knew that there was a gleam in her eye. God, she loved shooting cocky men down and watching them run back to their friends, tails tucked between their legs. But something about this Hangman made her curious and she didn’t yet know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. “Is that so? So what makes a fly-boy like you better than most people in the room?” she asked, giving him a teasing look.

A grin crossed Jake’s face and he was so sure that he was in. “Attended Top Gun twice, two confirmed air-to-air kills, plus my good looks and endless amounts of good ole-fashioned Southern charm, sweetheart.”

“Wow. Two whole kills all by yourself? That’s pretty impressive,” Bear nodded, schooling her face so as to not burst out laughing. “Little ole me only has about 60 confirmed kills, but I’m sure it’s much more difficult in a plane.”

Jake, who had been grabbing the beer bottles from Penny, froze. “I’m sorry, 60?”

“Yup, all by myself too.” The mocking slipped free and the smirk on her face was wide and dangerous.

“Who are you?” He asked, concern flooding over his face. Jake knew that the look on his face was one of pure shock, and holy shit was he both terrified and turned on at the thought of this woman being far more dangerous than he was.

Bear grinned, finishing her drink and pulling her wallet out to pay. “Take a guess,” she replied.

“Well I was going to say one hell of a pilot, but I would have heard of you if you were a Navy pilot.”

“Maybe I’m Air Force,” she teased as she watched the conflicting emotions cross Hangman’s face.

“Nuh uh. No way.” Jake shook his head immediately in disgust. “There’s no way you’re Chair Force, not a chance.”

“Like you Navy boys don’t also sit in chairs,” came the retort. “But you are right, I’m not, as you put it, Chair Force.”

“So who are you?” He asked, ignoring the barb thrown his way and pausing to look at her. “You aren’t a pilot, that’s for damn sure, so who and what are you?”

“Bagman! What the hell is taking so long?” A shout came from over by the pool tables.

Rolling his eyes, Jake turned and yelled back “Jus’ wait a damn minute!” Looking back at the woman beside him, Jake nodded for her to tell him.

“Seals,” she replied. “Navy Seal Team Three.”

His green eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know that there were women in the Seals.”

“Not many. Less than 3% to be exact.” There was pride in her voice and Bear knew that. She had worked incredibly hard to be taken seriously during training and even now as the Commander of Seal Team Three, working in the Middle East and Southwest Asia. Her skills were necessary for the survival of her team and herself. Plus putting damn near three years into the US Navy Sniper School made it very clear just how dangerous she was and could be.

“Okay…umm…wow. I jus’…wow.” Jake was in awe, right here in front of him was a woman who was both badass and hot as hell, and the best part? She didn’t back down and made him work for every step. “That’s seriously badass. Why haven’t I heard about you or any of the others?”

“Cause we’re usually kept secret. If enemy states know that there are women on the teams, then we have targets on our backs. But I can tell you, because no one will believe you,” Bear smirked before continuing, “And yeah, I know it’s pretty badass. I worked hard for it. Just like you did for your two kills.” And with a wink, she walked off, disappearing into the crowd near the bar, leaving Jake speechless.

He made his way back to the pool tables, beers in hand and a shocked look on his face. Once he set the bottles down, Jake looked up and began to glance around for any sign of the Seal he had been speaking to. “Who you lookin’ for?” Coyote asked, stepping up next to him.

“A Navy Seal.”

Coyote did a double take. Swallowing his drink, he asked “Did you just say a Navy Seal? Where the hell did you find one of those?”

“Up at the bar not even five minutes ago.”

“The fuck you doin’ chattin’ up a Navy Seal?” Coyote was looking at him like he was crazy. “Don’t they like have three dozen ways to murder you with a rusty spoon?”

“Probably. But she was hot. And seemed to be interested, so who knows if I’ll be a rusty spoon victim,” Jake replied. Not so deep down he was hoping that he’d get the chance to see her again, but stumbled over the sudden realization that he didn’t know her name. Well, that would be a problem for the next time. Turning back to the group, Jake found them watching him with curious looks. “What?”

“Next time that Seal comes back,” Phoenix told him, “Make sure she says hi. I want to know whose ass to protect when you wind up dead in a back alley.”

“Et tu, Nix?” Jake gaped at her, mimicking a pearl-clutching older woman before his face fell back into its usual cocky grin. “You’ll meet her, and you’ll regret saying that.”

Phoenix laughed. “I’ve got the power of being a woman on my side. Bet she doesn’t often get the chance to chat about her experience as a woman in the Navy with someone who understands,” she replied with a shrug. “Now are we playing or what?”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’. Keep your shirt on,” Jake drawled, setting his drink down and grabbing the pool cue from her outstretched hand. “Ready?”

“Fuck yeah.” A sharp grin from Phoenix had him smirking and if he spent the night trying to beat her, that was no one’s business but his own.

===

Training the next day was brutal. Maverick was clearly playing catch up from missing a day of training and he was making everyone hurt. “Come on Hangman, you’ll have to do better than that!” Phoenix had teased over the headset. “Gotta improve your skills or the hot Seal lady won’t be impressed!”

Jake rolled his eyes, knowing that everyone on the ground listening would hear him if he replied. So he stayed quiet, pulling the throttle up allowing him to go up and over Phoenix and Bob to try and lock on, but failed when Phoenix rolled out of the way. She led them in a chase across the sky, neither plane being ‘hit’, but neither pilot lost.

“What the hell was that?” Bob asked when they landed. “Where did you guys find a Navy Seal?”

Phoenix chuckled, “Bagman found her at the bar last night. He’s smitten.” Having landed back on the airstrip and taxiing it back towards its storing bay with the other Dagger aircraft, she unclipped herself from the harness and jumped down only to be met by Hangman standing right behind her. “Jesus fuck!” She yelled, right as Bob shouted “What the shit man?”

“Nothin’. Jus’ creepin’. Wanted to freak you out a bit,” he said with a shrug and a mischievous grin crossing his face.

“Asshole.”

“That’s me Nix, that’s me.” And Jake wandered off in the direction of the classroom to hear what Mav had to say.

Bob hopped down and watched him walk off. “You think he’s aware that a Navy Seal has standards?”

Phoenix snorted. “Unlikely. But maybe that’s why he’s trying to sneak around here so he can impress her. I won’t tell him that sneaking up on a Seal is a death sentence.” She pulled her helmet off, tucking it under her arm. “C’mon Bobert, let's get ripped into by Mav.”

“If you’re not telling, I’m not telling,” Bob replied with his own grin. “And do we have to? I’d much rather stay here where it’s somewhat safe with my ego intact, thank you.”

“Right? I would too if Mav wouldn’t send out a search party to find us,” she quipped. “Come on, better late than never.”

“I think the Seal would disagree with you.” But he followed Natasha anyway, trying not to drag his heels to avoid what he was sure would be the telling off of his life.

===

Unsurprisingly, Bear was also on base. After all, this was the only Navy base on Coronado Island, so it made sense that all Navy personnel would be stationed together. What she wasn’t expecting was to run into a pair of Navy pilots as she walked back to her car. “Watch it,” she grumbled, shouldering her way past the man and woman.

“There are Seals on this base?”

“Might want to get your eyes checked there, cause I’m not in-fucking-visible,” she retorted.

“Hold up, sorry. Are you the Seal that Bagman spent half of last night talking about?” The man asked in a quiet voice.

Softening her approach just a smidge, Bear turned and nodded. “I am. Something you wanted to ask?”

“No, not at all. Just curious as to who got our precious Bagman all shook up,” the woman replied, before extending a hand to shake. “I’m Phoenix, this is Bob.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Bear.”

“Bear?” The woman known now as Phoenix asked, confusion crossing her face. “How’d you get that?”

Bear grinned. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” She offered, eyes flicking to the tall quiet man who stood awkwardly off to the side. “I don’t bite, Bob. Not unless you want me to,” she added with a wink.

Bob flushed, and shook his head. “Pretty sure I’d get punched.”

Bear gave him a look. “We’ll revisit that later, but continuing on. You were saying Phoenix?”

With a reluctant sigh, Phoenix explained how she’d had to make an emergency landing when her engines caught fire, resulting in a fiery tail across the sky. “Bird on fire, Phoenix. Same difference.”

The other woman chuckled to herself. “That’s a good one. Bear is because I’m cranky as fuck when I get up in the morning,” she told them.

Bob grinned at her explanation. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but that is great.”

“I should be heading off. Lots of meetings tomorrow and all, but it was good to meet you both. Maybe I’ll see you around.” With a wave, Bear headed back to her car. “Oh, and one last thing, if it ever gets out to Hangman you met me, don’t tell him my name. He has to work for that one,” she said loudly, turning to walk backwards.

“Sounds like a plan,” Phoenix called back, giving her a quick wave. Quietly to Bob, she whispered “Bagman is in for an uphill climb if he wants to even have a chance with her.”

“I know,” Bob whispered back. “It’s going to be great.”

===

A/N: So many thanks to @startrekfangirl2233, @dakotakazansky, and @sarahsmi13s for being the most incredible beta readers ever! I love you all so much!

And to all my beautiful readers: my inbox is open so come and scream at me in reblogs, comments, or DMs, I promise I will get to you all!

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d3wdropz · 4 months

Text

Does Princess Wanna Fuck? Toji Fushiguro Smut

a/n: I am shocked yet not shocked this man won the poll- I'm kind of nervous but here we go

i'm so shocked how big this fic is- sorry it took so long, finals were kicking my ass

plz be kind this is my first large fic

pairing: bodyguard! toji fushiguro x reader

word count: 5.1 K

summary: your mother, a very rich and influential woman, gets on the wrong side of some dangerous people. To ensure your safety, she hires the best protection money can buy: the Sorcerer killer. You're happy to have the support, you just didn't think he'd be this hot.

content warning: fem!reader, not virgin! reader, pet names (princess, pretty, doll, sweetie), swearing, porn with plot, age gap (toji is 30 something, reader is early 20s), alcohol, p in v, dirty talk, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), rough fucking, no protection, creampie, doggystyle, kind of mean! toji, bratty! reader, a few spanks, degradation (slut), no strings attached, no aftercare, hopefully that's it

Thank you @benkeibear for the great banner once again!

"I promise, sweetie, nothing bad is going to happen. I have my own personal team looking after me, we all just thought it would be safer for you to stay away."

You were sitting on your bed, listening to the voicemail your mother had left for you. It came as no surprise that she was on the radar of some shady people. Your mother climbed her way out of poverty and became one of the richest people in the city.

Ever since you were a child, you knew the methods she used weren't very legal. This came in the form of strangers coming in and out of your house constantly, the long and far away trips she'd take for 'work', and the items and rooms you were never allowed near. The people you saw as a child always ended up on the news, both arrested and murdered. The trips she took would often mean you wouldn't see her for upwards of a year, with no way to contact her so her location would remain secret. The locked doors and mysterious duffel bags were the biggest give away.

There was a time when you were eight and curious. You wanted to know what was so important about some stupid locked box. Your mother was away on one of her 'work trips' again, so she'd never know. When you were finally able to unlock it, you found it full of expensive and shiny jewelry. If it weren't for the news showing a picture of the same accessories- only this time the reporter was asking for tips on finding the stolen gems- you would have likely played with them.

No matter the means, your mom provided and loved you. Her job was paying for the expensive house you were sitting in right now, the newest phone model you were holding in your hand. You accepted your mom's life choices, going as far as to lie for her when people got too curious.

But right now was different. Never before did your mother's work involve you, let alone threaten to kill and dismember you. As soon as your mother received the threatening text, she had half her team escorting you out of your apartment and back home.

That was almost a full week ago and since then you hadn't been allowed outside of the building. Your mother was currently at her 'office', with the rest of her bodyguards and team looking for the guy.

You focus back on the message just in time to hear her final words, "I know you hate being cooped up inside the house, and if I'm being honest those men I sent are amateurs. I've hired the best hitman to look after you, you'll even be able to go back to your apartment. He's the best in the business. Anyway, I love you so much, baby, be safe. I'll call you when things have calmed down."

You delete the message as soon as it's over, sighing and looking around the room. You haven't been here in ages, not since you left for college and started staying in your one-bedroom apartment. Whatever nostalgia you were starting to feel disappeared when you heard a light knock on the door.

"Miss," it was one of your mom's team members, "The new guy is here to escort you out."

Standing up from the bed, you walked over to the door and opened it just enough to see the guy's face, "Okay, tell him I'll be down there in a minute. I need to pack up my stuff."

Packing was easy enough, you didn't have any time to pack the day the team swept you away so the only thing you carried down the stairs with you was a small backpack.

As you made your way down the winding staircase, you could hear an unfamiliar voice having a one-way conversation with the serious guards at the door. It was playful and some how laid back, something you weren't used to when it came to people your mom worked with.

When you made it to the bottom, your eyes met pools of deep green. The chatter stopped as the stranger faced you with a satisfied smirk, "So this must be little miss princess, huh?"

A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment bubbled in your stomach as you clutched the straps of your bag, "And you're the famous 'hitman' my mom told me about? I expected someone more professional."

In all honesty, it wasn't your best jab. Just something you made up on the spot in an attempt to knock him down a peg.

It only served as amusement, though, as he chuckled and looked you up and down, " 'Don't need to be professional to be good in my line of work, princess," noticing the slight pout on your lips, his smirk melted into a soft smile as he nodded, "but you were right, I've been paid a lot to keep you alive, even more if I find the guy."

One of the other guards grabs your bag as they begin to lead you to the black car outside. While walking, you turn your head toward the stranger, "Now how are you gonna protect me and catch the guy? I don't really like the idea of you half-assing a job that involves my life."

Another smooth chuckle leaves his scarred lips as he hops into the back seat of the car with you, "Oh, you are gonna be fun to work with, princess."

The princess thing was starting to get on your nerves, now. No other guard or person affiliated with your mother treated you like this. At best, they respected you; at worst, they coward at the sight of you.

"I have a name, u'know. If my mom is gonna pay you, you might as well learn it," you huff and turn your body away from him.

The man crosses his legs lazily and grabs one of the mini bottles of alcohol from the side door, "Trust me, princess, I know a lot more than you think. I know you're a snooty, little brat who still doesn't know the name of the person holding her life in his hands."

At the mention- or threat- of knowing too much information for comfort, you turn just enough to peak at him from the corner of your eye. Instead of using your words, you raised a brow and waited for an answer.

He took his sweet time giving it, too. He finished the alcohol in one gulp and wiped his mouth on his bare arm. The muscles flexed as he brought his arm and up, catching your eye just long enough for him to notice.

He finally looked into your eyes again with a cocky smile, "Toji- and that's all you need to know."

You tried to keep eye contact, tried to assert your strength and maturity. But it was a losing game, the thoughts racing in your head kept you from looking into Toji's eyes any longer.

Out of all the things going through your head, one stuck out the most: this asshole's hot as fuck.

~ ~ ~

It's been about a week since your mother hired Toji to be your guard dog, and you hate to say it, but he's very good at his job.

The first few days left you nervous and doubtful of his abilities as he waved you off to 'do your shit'. He said that you could go about your day like normal, that you'd be safe no matter where you were.

This was nothing like the last week you'd just had. Instead of one guy keeping watch in the shadows, you had a whole teams worth of people just watching you laze around your house. You had to admit, it felt refreshing to get back to your life. And it turns out, Toji wasn't lying.

During all of your outings, you were safe as can be. After a bit of questioning, he told you that while you did your thing, he was watching your every move. While a part of you was upset that you would be lacking in privacy, another was happy in the fact that you likely have never been in safer hands.

Even while at home, Toji doesn't intrude. He does his thing and leaves you alone. This could be rummaging and eating the food in your fridge, or sitting shirtless on your couch as he waited to sleep.

He's made a comfortable little bed on the living room couch. Your apartment, while beautifully furnished and on the top floor, didn't have more than one bedroom. As soon as you both walked through the door, you made it clear you would not be giving your room up for him.

If you could sum it up in one word, you'd say you were content.

That is, until Toji gets ready for bed. You're proud to say that you're no bashful virgin, you've slept with a few guys. But none of them were as hot as the man sitting before you.

You're ashamed to say that you've spent more time staring at his abs than the cliche action movie playing on the TV. You're also ashamed to say that you've wanted to fuck him since that moment in the car.

Throughout the week, you've tried to get closer to Toji. Not for the sake of a connection, but to see if you had any shot at getting with him for one night. To his credit, in this regard he is professional. You've learned nothing about him but his name, you didn't even know his full name.

In an effort to make some sort of progress, you mentioned having a movie night. He didn't really have the option to say no as your full-screen TV with surround sound was in the living room. Just to sweeten the deal, you offered to get drinks and takeout- which worked in your favor as you both make your way through the bottle of vodka and a pack of beer.

"Okay, kid, I know I said you could pick the movie- but come on, this movie is horseshit," Toji grabbed the remote from your hands and finished off the can of beer in one chug.

You knew the movie sucked, choosing it because of that reason. When has anyone ever gotten fucked with a decent movie in the background? The point was for you and him to talk, not genuinely watch the film. You were running out of options and sober thought quicker than you'd like to admit.

Steeling your nerves, you finished off your drink as well and poured yourself another, stronger one, "Well, it's my TV so before you turn anything on I want I know what it is first."

He chuckled and clicked through the options, landing on a classic slasher. Toji tilted his head at the screen, black hair falling into his eyes, "This good enough for the little princess?"

"Fine, but you need to tell me why you keep calling me 'princess', it's really pissing me off," you titled your head to meet his gaze, hoping he couldn't see the blush forming on your cheeks.

Toji crossed his legs and leaned his back against the couch, laying his arms against the head rest. "You really don't know, do ya?"

The bored expression on your face was a good enough answer as he itched the back of his neck and closed his eyes, "Geez. . . I shouldn't be telling you this but maybe it'll knock you down a peg," you leaned forward, eager to finally get some kind of information from him. "Your mom is a powerful lady. Everyone in . . . my line of work knows about her," he points his finger at you and grins, "which means, everyone knows about you. People think of you as a prissy little princess that doesn't know anything about the real world."

All of the confidence you had dissipated during his explanation, fueling you to drink more and more vodka until your cheeks flushed. You were smart, you knew your limits- and right now you were there. If you continued like this, you'd be drunk and all your efforts would be for not.

With a huff, you point your own finger at him, "I am not a prissy little princess. I know what my mom does! I know about the real world, I'm not some spoiled little kid."

"Oh- if you know about how your mom paid for your life of luxury, tell me. Cause I sure as hell would love to hear about all the info you've got," to further irritate you- or turn you on, you're not sure- he uncrosses his legs to spread them as he leans against his knees.

At this, you sputter, look to the ground, anywhere but his eyes and crotch. You'd officially dug yourself a hole. You didn't want to know about what your mom did, it would solidify in your mind that she's a criminal. Something you didn't want to accept was that the woman who loves and raised you might not be a good person.

Toji chuckles and opens another can of beer at your silence, "Feels nice to be right."

You groan and cross your arms, "Fine! I don't know what my mom does- I don't even wanna know!" you finally meet his eyes, trying so hard not to stutter when you see the sheer amusement swimming in his head. "But I am not a prissy princess!"

For once, Toji breaks eye contact first to roll his, "Listen, kid, I've only been with you for a week, but I know a brat when I see one," you hope it's not your imagination when you see him lean towards you, looking you up and down, "and you, Y/n, are spoiled rotten. Bet no one's ever said no to you before. Never made you say 'please'. "

The warm tinge in your cheeks is uncontrollable now as you feel yourself getting wet, "You're not my dad- okay? I know manners, you just don't deserve them-"

In the blink of an eye Toji makes his way over to you, putting his hand against the head rest and smirking down at you, "Oh, sweetheart, those aren't the kind of manners I'm talkin' about," he leans down to your level, so close you smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I see the way you look at me, it's so fucking obvious," his voice is barely above a whisper but it's leaving you hot and bothered in your seat, "Bet you were waiting for me to drop everything and beg for a fuck, right? You'd want me to do all the work while you just lay there and act like a little pillow princess."

At his words, you try and look to the ground in hopes of calming your racing heart. This attempt ends in Toji gripping your chin harshly and forcing you to look at him again, "If you really wanna fuck, cutie, then I'm gonna need you to be a good little girl. You think you can do that?"

The throbbing in your cunt is unbearable and you're desperate for any kind of action, so you eagerly nod your head. In response, Toji digs his fingers into your chin, "Use your words, slut."

All inhibition flew out of your body as you pouted, "Yes, yes please. I can be a good girl."

Satisfied, Toji let go of your face and stood up straight, "Prove it. I'm gonna clean up in here and by the time I'm done you better be nice and ready for me."

You're in your room in an instant, throwing off your pajama shorts and shirt. Your heart's racing as you lay down on the bed and reach your arm down to your aching cunt. It's been forever since you've gotten off, two weeks ago you were so stressed it didn't feel right. This week, you were hoping the wait would be worth it.

By how sensitive you are, you're happy you waited.

The simple ghosting of your fingers over your clothed clit has you biting your lip. You couldn't draw this out, though, Toji made a demand and if you wanted to be fucked you'd follow it.

Slipping your hand underneath the green, laced panties, you rubbed at your clit. Just a few circles was enough preparation as you slipped in a finger and tried rubbing at that spongey, deep, spot.

A whine slipped past your lips as your finger just barely reached your pleasure point. You were so close, you just needed a push. Letting the laced bra-strap fall off your shoulder, you pinched and rubbed at your hardened nipple. Hoping and begging for some kind of stimulation to get you over the edge.

Your whimpers and curses stopped as soon as you felt two calloused hands spread your knees.

"Can't even get yourself off, can you, princess?" Toji's grin was prideful as he admired your choice of clothing. He tsked and wrapped his hands around the straps of your panties, "Don't think some sexy lingerie is gonna save you, I told you to get prepped."

In one swift motion, he pulled down your underwear and threw them behind me. Toji climbed onto the bed, leaning back on his knees between your legs as he lazily stroked your clit, "maybe you aren't a good girl after all?"

At this, you sat up on your elbows and looked at him through your lashes, "I am! I promise I tried," you put all of your weight onto one arm as you used the other to rub at the bulge in his sweat pants. To avoid his gaze, you opted to stare at his abs.

You couldn't help but bite your lip from the excitement, "I just need your help, please, can't cum without you."

His mouth was clamped shut as you caressed his dick threw his pants, which you noticed were the only thing covering his manhood. His brows knitted together as he rolled his head on his shoulders, closing his eyes.

A small, deep laugh left his throat as he reopened his eyes, "You want my help, princess? Earn it, show me how grateful you are and suck my dick."

You didn't need to be told twice as you quickly lowered the waistband of his sweats and freed his cock. Drool pooled in your mouth as you studied his member. It was thick and curved, a nice seven inches with a mushroom tip you knew would hit just the right places.

Toji carefully put his hand on the back of your head, "Don't tell me you're backing out now, doll."

With your ego stroked and a need for praise, you shake your head and spit into your palm. Leaning against his clothed thigh, you wrapped your hand around his cock and gave him a few pumps. "No, just think you cock's pretty."

The hand on your head softly massaged your scalp in response as he let out a breathy chuckle, "Thanks, cutie, but how about you get to showing me that appreciation."

Taking the hint, you put both hands to work as you move them back and forth, adding in twists and some pressure when getting close to the base. You look up at Toji and are happy to see him closing his eyes in concentration as he bites his lip.

You decide now is the perfect time to bump it up a notch and wrap your lips around the tip. You suck on it and speed up your hand movement until you slowly suck on more of his cock. When you're finally able to fit it all in, you hollow out your cheeks and gently cup his balls. More heat floods your cunt when you hear Toji let out a groan and tighten his grip on your head.

"Fuck- just like that, princess," he runs a hand through his hair and struggles to hold in a moan as you pull your mouth up to the tip and tongue at the slit. Your hands go back to his cock as you squeeze and pump. When you hear him breathe faster, you go back to sucking him, bobbing your head up and down now.

It doesn't take long for this changing of tactic to have Toji bucking his hips up into your face. He's close, you can tell. At this point, you don't care if he cums down your throat, he'll probably be ready for more within five minutes.

Toji has other plans, though, as he pushes you off of his cock and onto your back, "Shit, doll, gonna ruin the fun." He repositions himself so that he's laying between your spread thighs, hands holding them tight against the sides of his head.

" 'think that deserves a reward," he dives his head down to your cunt, halting before he touches you. His emerald eyes peer up at you through raven locks as he speaks, "you better not cum, princess."

You nod and stroke his hair, gasping when he shuts his mouth against your pussy and starts sucking on your clit. It feels amazing, his fingers prod at your opening before plunging in and starting an unforgiving pace.

The hands in his hair pull him closer as you arch your back off of the bed. The neighbors probably can hear your loud and porno-grade moans, but you don't care. Toji's reaching all the places you couldn't and it's sending you to paradise.

"Ah! Toji- oh fuck- Toji! 'Gonna cum! I'm so close- fuck!" there are tears brimming your eyes from the pleasure as you start to clench around his fingers. You're so close, it feels so good.

You cry out when Toji pulls away, sucking his fingers clean as he stands up just long enough to takes off his pants, "Don't worry, doll, not leavin' you, just getting us more comfortable."

Panting and whimpers are the only sounds you can make as he unclasps the laced bra you wore and turns you onto your stomach.

"Think you can hold yourself up?" Toji's behind you, holding your hips firmly as he rubs the head of his cock between your folds.

You buck back against him, hoping to get some attention to your clit. As you register the question you lift yourself onto your elbows and nod, shaking your ass in excitement, "please, Toji, need you to fuck me so bad. Need to cum on your cock."

His nails dig into the flesh of your hips as he snaps his own forward. In one swift motion, Toji bullies his cock into your dripping cunt. You let out a squeal, almost letting your face fall into the pillows. His mouth falls open in a silent groan, letting his head fall forward as he looked down.

"Shit baby. . ." Toji breathes out and pulls his hips back slowly, savoring the view of his dick soaked in your juices. Just the tip was left snug in your cunt, leaving you wanting more.

"Ah! Toji- put it back! Please," you begged and tried to move back into him, only to be stopped by a sharp slap to your ass. You yelped, arms finally giving out as you face-planted into the pillows.

Toji 'tsked', massaging and gripping the reddened skin, "You better be patient, princess, or you're not gonna cum tonight."

With that, he sank back into you and repeated the movement. His pace was slow and agonizing, thrusts shallow and teasing. Tears formed in your eyes again at the lack of stimulation. You could feel the veins and ridges of his cock slide against you, but he wasn't hitting deep enough, wasn't going fast enough to send you over the edge.

On the other hand, Toji was enjoying himself. He was savoring the way your pussy clenched around him, pulling him in every time he pulled out. If he was being honest, all he wanted to do was grip your head, force your face deeper into those silk pillows, and pound into your cunt until you creamed. Not yet, though, Toji needed to teach you some manners; only good girls get to cum and cry on his cock.

His hands spread your cheeks apart to watch you clench around him. A hiss came from his scarred and bitten lips as he stayed still inside you, feeling you squeeze his dick just right. Toji let out a breathy chuckle as he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his chest onto your back.

" 'think you've been a good girl for me," one of his arms made its way around your throat, pulling you up against his chest as he thrust into you, hard. His head was nestled into your neck, biting and leaving dark purple marks, "better not hold out on me, princess, wanna hear how good I fuck this little cunny."

That was all the warning you got as Toji started pistoning his hips into yours, using his grip to slam your body into his thrusts. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

It felt so good, the way his dick was slamming into your soft spot over-and-over. Toji was sending you closer and closer to your orgasm, faster than you expected.

"Oh shit! Toji- feels so fucking good! Ah- right there! Fuck! Right there!" You didn't care about the cries and moans coming out of your mouth. You didn't have the energy or focus when the only thing you could think about was how this was possibly the greatest fuck of your life.

You felt a rough hand snake its way between your thighs, starting to draw hard circles into your bundle of nerves. You let out a loud whine, head falling back and leaning against Toji's shoulder, now covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His arm dropped from your throat, finding purchase in groping your boobs. "That's it, princess, cum for me," his voice was low and gravely, desperate to feel you squeeze and milk him for all he's worth.

Finally gaining some sense, you gripped his wrist, trying to pull him away from your clit. You whined and felt your legs begin to shake, "Toji! Wait- gonna cum- gonna cum!" It was all building too fast, too intense. A part of you thought you might pass out when you reached your peak.

He chuckled and rubbed faster at your nub, bending you over and pressing his upper body into your back. It left you trapped beneath him, and gave Toji a better angle to fuck into you. At this point, it felt like he was hitting against your cervix.

"Come on, pretty, don't hold back" his thrusts sped up as his head dipped into your shoulder. You could hear his heavy breaths and low grunts before you felt him lick at the shell of your ear. "Show me what a good girl you are and cum."

Toji's words were all you needed to fly over the edge. A numbness washed over your sweat-soaked body, being replaced with unbelievable pleasure within a half a second. Your loud, high pitched moans filled the room, drowning out the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass. White filled your vision as you clenched around his cock. In the wake of your mind-shattering orgasm, you fall onto the bed, Toji following behind you and pinning you to the mattress.

As you dome down from your high, you feel Toji move his hand to grip your hips, digging his dull nails into your flesh. Somehow, he's fucking you harder as he groans into your neck.

"Fuck- good girl, good girl," his mouth latches to your skin now, leaving a hickey behind and moving to make another. "Gonna cum, pretty, gonna cum for you."

With one, final thrust, Toji stills inside you as he bites into the junction between your neck and shoulder, "Take it, slut- take it."

The feeling of hot cum gushing into you leaves you a whining little mess. Toji holds you tight, softly rolling his hips to ride out his orgasm. The two of you are left sweating and panting on your bed. You're too exhausted to think about what to do next, feeling just the slightest bit of overstimulation as he stays inside your abused cunt.

Toji chuckles and pulls out, sitting up on his knees to look at the mess he left between your thighs. You turn your head to look at him, lacking enough energy to move the rest of your body. Through the corner of your eyes, you watch Toji comb a hand through his hair before getting off your bed and collecting his discarded pants.

Some part of you wanted him to stay, but you're mostly glad he's taking charge and leaving without being told. It's obvious that this isn't the first time Toji's been in this position.

Even when fucked out, you've got a job to do. You manage to roll onto your back and run your hands down your face. The intent stare Toji gives to your bare tits doesn't go unnoticed, in return you smile teasingly at him, "Jeez, you aren't even gonna help me clean up?"

Toji ties the strings of his waistband and gives you a cocky grin, "I'm not being paid to pamper you, now am I?" He snickers as you roll your eyes, turning to leave the room. Toji stops himself just before he makes it out the door and raises a brow at you, "You're on birth control, right?"

At this, you scoff and chuck one of your throw pillows at him, "Maybe you should get better at your pull-out game, asshole."

He easily dodges the pillow, huffing as he leaves your room for real this time. While he makes his way to the bathroom, you hear him mutter something along the lines of 'getting you plan b in the morning.'

You sit yourself up on your elbows, cringing at the feeling of Toji's cum leak out onto your bedspread. The clock reads that it's two in the morning, and you really just wanna go to sleep- you would, if it wasn't for the various fluids drying on your bed. You groan and go to get off the bed, only to fall to the ground from the ache in your thighs.

"Damn it," you look up at the ceiling and hear Toji turn the TV back on in the living room. As you lay there, you let the memories and events sink in. He lets out a loud laugh at something he saw on the screen, and you're reminded that Toji is, in fact, a dickhead.

But you can easily admit that he's an excellent fuck. You're pretty sure that no one's any closer to finding the guy that threatened you. Maybe you can get one last round in before his job's done.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #toji jjk #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x you #fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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sunboki · 6 months

Text

KOREA'S MOST WANTED (DEAD OR ALIVE) : SUNBOKI

🎥 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader ( with hints of other attraction ((mainly 3racha cause im a whore)) no poly )

TROPE. non-idol au, criminal! au, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut

WORD COUNT. 6.8k & 33 minute read

WARNINGS. smut, blood, guns/weapons, shoot-out, murder, mentions of drugs and poison, descriptive violence, suggestiveness, manipulation, death(not major characters), cursing

PLAYLIST

AUG'S NOTES. a weird spin to a not-quite mafia au but i love the lore.. enjoy. if you decide to read, feedback is always appreciated!!

SYNOPSIS. Eight notoriously wanted criminals work solo. They always have. Except when their dark work and concealed identities are put at risk, they find themselves with no other choice but to work together—and what better place to do so than the back fields of a house in the middle of nowhere? The location was ideal, until you open the doors of your grandparents barn and accidentally meet Korea’s most wanted.

or alternatively

In which stumbling in the wrong place at the wrong time leaves you face to face with some of the most-wanted criminals in all of South Korea.

CRIMINAL #0001 — BAHNG, CHRISTOPHER.

CRIMINAL RECORD

Christopher has been convicted of illegal weapon trafficking on eighteen counts of federal offenses. He is notoriously dangerous. Please proceed with caution.

⭑ REWARD

⎯ CRIMINAL FILES (additional cases)

The only thing illuminating your walk to the barn is your phone light and the hardly helpful moon peeking between heavy clouds.

You’ve done this a billion times, but tonight there’s just something ..unsettling. You can’t put your finger on it.

Shaking the thought from mind, you fiddle with the small lock hitched onto wide, dark red barn doors, untangling rusted chains like routine. That is, until you hear a sound. An unusual sound, an unnerving sound.

By that time you’d already pushed open the doors, and the weight of what sat in front of you—the weight of what was responsible for the sound—made you feel faint.

“Who.. Who are you people?”

Every October you visit your grandparents (or whenever your schedule isn’t jam-packed, but most often in October) when the leaves are deep orange and red, dappling gravel driveways and leaving the once abundant trees bare of their spring greenery.

The weather, though overcast in the autumn season, never stays gray for too long if you wake up early enough. Your grandpa taught you that, how to witness the early morning view before being covered by clouds.

On this occasion, however, you certainly didn’t plan on waking up early, especially not while rooming in your comfortable old bedroom.

Your grandparents house, despite being in the middle of nowhere, was so homey, so familiar. You’d be sure to soak up as much of this easiness as you could before returning back to life, savor the moments the best you could.

“Have you heard?” Your grandmother utters, fingers expertly dicing fruits, gaze glued to the TV.

“Grandma, I just got here, so no I haven’t heard anything,” You laugh, dragging your luggage through the hallway while the drone of the latest news feature serves as background noise. Probably another celebrity split-up, you assume.

Surely, considering the stubborn woman’s frantic waving once you come back into the living room, beckoning you to watch with her.

“Look! They’re wrecking havoc everywhere recently. Folks are calling them ‘Korea’s most wanted.’” Shaking her head repeatedly, she points at the screen displaying a churned building left to nothing but ash.

You hum absentmindedly, listening to the reporter talk.

“Using the title the media has given, this building, once a printing firm, has been dissolved into ashes overnight. The attack is said to have been the doing of ‘The Arsonist’, a member of one of the most wanted people on the radar…”

“If you run into one of them,” Having completely forgotten about the other presence in the room, you flinch. “Call your Grandma, I’ll swat ‘em over the head with my shovel.”

Gesturing with an imaginary shovel in hand, you can’t help but laugh at her silliness, quickly shaking the lingering thought away.

Korea’s most wanted here? Here’s probably the last place they’d show up, too busy massacring the big cities to care about this old house.

Resorting to scurrying onto a kitchen stool, you fill in the nosy old lady on what life has been like, how work has been treating you, and all the other nosy questions your grandmother thinks up slicing apples.

By the time you look out the window, the sky is almost fully dark, until a sudden flash of headlights tells the household grandpa’s back from work, hopping from his rickety blue pickup truck to greet you.

There’s a smile gracing his wrinkled features, regarding you like you were still eight years old. He’s a man of few words, but when he speaks, everyone listens. Similarly, when he tells you he loves you—something he barely does—the moment, whatever it may be, is special.

Settling in for the night, you help wash dishes and insist the stoic woman takes a seat before she breaks her back leaning over the sink, which she rolls her eyes and ignores no less.

Not like you expected anything else, she’d wash these dishes till the end of time knowing her.

“Y/n, dear, would you mind making sure the barn lamp is shut off? I’m worried it’ll catch fire if I forget.”

Speaking of the end of time, you hadn’t stepped foot in the barn in what felt to be decades, too occupied with the house and town to remember that ramshackle building outside.

Of course you said yes, deciding this was a prime opportunity to not forget in the process of slipping on a sweater to help battle the cold, approaching the barely visible building.

You think you hear someone talking but choose to ignore it, pretending it was the wind or something along those lines. It’s autumn and you’re plenty far away from suburban areas, so most likely an animal lie responsible.

That was, until you pry open the barn doors.

Immediately, a stranger with cat-like features has a serrated dagger held to your throat.

Closing your eyes instinctively, you wait to feel the cold metal breaking skin, hesitantly cracking open an eye to meet the attacker’s chilling stare boring into the side of your face.

He takes a few seconds to exchanges glances with another in the dimly lit space then back to your stock-still frame. Briefly, you feel your phone get pulled from your pocket but don’t budge, worried one wrong movement would automatically have the cold metal slitting your throat.

“Walk. Make the slightest move and nobody finds your body, understood?”

Shakily, you nod, feebly inching forward before getting shoved onto the container your grandpa kept extra tools in, splinters piercing the back of your thighs.

Wonderingly, your eyes flicker to each stranger surrounding you. Counting eight in total, some taller, some shorter, you gulp, outnumbered by a large margin you’re sure would be nearly impossible trying to escape from.

Without exchanging a word, one of the shorter, more muscular men steps forward, seeming to inspect you. His rough grip finds your chin, jerking your head from side to side then up to meet his honeyed brown eyes. They’re surprisingly kind compared to his demeanor.

“She’s pretty. Might earn us a good penny if you want, Bahng. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” Cocking his brows, you swiftly rip your head out of his hand, wrinkling your nose with disgust.

A frothing dread fills your gut, and you think for a moment letting that man with the dagger kill you off would’ve been a better doom.

“Hands off, Bin. If we wanted to get a price we need her to be in good condition.” A voice from behind this so-called “Bin” responds, and you feel the overwhelming urge to hurl.

They’re talking about selling you, like you’re not even human. A pretty porcelain object available at their disposal.

Good condition? You feel sick. You can’t see the man who replied, but you doubt it’d make your gut feel any more uncomfortable.

“Aw c’mon guys,” Another voice you finally spot to your right interjects, sporting chubbier cheeks and appearing quite out of place in this group. “You’re scaring her, go easy.”

Bin scoffs. “Should she be comfortable? We’re gonna kill her anyway, Jisung. Right, Bahng?”

God. Who is this Bahng guy that’s apparently in charge and why does “Bin” want you dead so badly? Didn’t he just call you pretty, or were you blacking out?

“..Right, Bahng?”

Bin falters, backing up as the face belonging to “Bahng” ushers him to the side.

Bahng, at least in the scarce lighting, is scarily handsome. Dyed hair nearly an auburn shade, a strong jaw, and calculating, dusky brown eyes that appear equally as kind as Bin’s.

You’ve learned to not trust the deceit.

Suddenly, a thought strikes.

Any minute now your grandparents will realize how long you’ve been gone and start to worry.

Your heart drops.

No. Don’t come here, stay in the house. No no no no.

Automatically, words stumble out of your mouth.

“Please- kill me, sell me, I don’t care. My grandparents- they’re gonna come here, I can’t have them here. If they find me here I... Please.” Chest rising and falling unevenly, you continuously glance at the door.

Waiting, waiting.

“Please spare them. I don’t want them to get hurt.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t make any expression apparent on that handsome face of his. Observing.

You’re a spectacle, an interesting one at that.

“And if I spare you, what do I get in return, hm?”

You’re caught off guard.

In return? What does he mean in return?

Think. Think. What the hell could someone like him want? He has enough money, you’re sure.

Fine. Make it broad.

“Anything. Anything, I promise.” Pleading, you anxiously shuffling atop the box, swearing to have heard the sound of moving outside. Somewhere behind the two of you someone chokes a laugh. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Poking his tongue into his cheek thoughtfully, he eventually signals to the others before you’re being escorted through the back door by a not-so gentle Bin and a very much apologetic Jisung, sparing a glance back to the home you’d only seen for one day.

And if what Bin said about killing you was true, you wonder if you’ll ever see it again.

.. .

Ducking into one of the two cars parked directly behind the barn, you’re assigned the passenger seat, accompanied by Bahng who’s driving, Jisung, and a long-haired boy sitting beside him in the backseat.

They’re all strikingly beautiful opposed to the blood you’re sure has stained their hands, especially the one next to Jisung with features resembling that of a prince. Everything about him seems too elegant to do any harm. You know that’s a lie.

Mapping out your surroundings, you shuffle in the leather seat, waiting until all three men get situated to slam the door ajar and run. Second instinct, no thoughts, just survival.

You run, run and run as fast as you can while the thump of shoes echo behind you. Far away, you have to get away. Get away get away get aw— a force slams into you from behind and you go toppling down.

Gasping as the air mercilessly ripped from your lungs returns, your vision adjusts, squirming thanks to the identity keeping you still. Bahng has you trapped below him, breath labored, effortlessly intimidating.

“Let— go of me!” You yell, voice betraying the utter desperation overtaking every fiber of your being.

He holds you down, meeting your eyes without fail as you struggle and shout. Shouting and screaming so loud into the darkness in fact, that the man finally covers your mouth with a hand as you tremble, watery gaze fixated on his. Burning, venomous hatred.

“I’m afraid that isn’t an option, sweetness. So you either walk back to the car or I go through things the hard way. What will it be?”

He thumbs the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead, hand finally pulling off your mouth.

Hypocrite.

“Fuck you.” You spit, and the man’s brows lift, lips pulled into an amused smile as he wipes his cheek.

“Hard way it is.”

Instantaneously, you’re hauled over his shoulder, not straining a bit despite the incessant kicking and pounding of your fists against his shoulder.

And just to prove how much he wholeheartedly deserved that fuck you, he made sure to lock the vehicle twice right in front of your face, receiving an equally as distasteful glare through the windshield in return.

The car ride was quiet, only interrupted by him asking if the air was too cold which you responded to with the middle finger. Jisung giggled.

Wee hours of morning peer through thick clouds, the road briefly illuminated by your headlights, corn stalks for miles lining either side. A barely palpable trace of life noticeable in a church’s steeple in the distance—once stark white, now stained and evidently aged.

Looking in the mirror, you locate the other vehicle tailing, assumed to be carrying the additional boys. Considering where your lone source of communication may be hidden (a.k.a your phone), you strain trying to spot it in your peripheral.

No use. Just you and this shit-hole of a situation.

Either way, what would you even say? “Please help me I’ve been kidnapped by eight of Korea’s most wanted criminals”? Yeah, they’ll definitely believe that.

There’s a hum from the prince-like man.

“This is the perfect place for a murder,” He speaks so nonchalantly, as if he referred to the weather and not killing someone.

Chills spread along your arms.

Jisung chuckles. “You’re right, no traces at all. Either way, even if someone did find them they’d likely already be rotten.”

You’re nauseous.

“Say, do you know how long it takes for a body to rot out here?” He asks, and your dizziness keeps you from realizing he’s referring to you, stomach threatening to spill all of its contents any second now.

And they expect you to know that?

Your silence leads to Jisung earning a smack from his backseat companion, scolding him hushedly.

Bahng stays quiet, one hand holding the wheel and the other splayed on the center console. Occasionally though you’ll see his eyes flit elsewhere, or maybe it’s your imagination.

Car eventually falling mute with a few passengers sleeping, you get close to doing the same before the harsh jerk of the car stirs everyone wide awake, clutching onto their seats.

You’d swerved into a small expanse of corn, wheels crushing the crops beneath them. Instantly the three reach under their seats, instinctively grabbing out pistols and pushing open the doors slowly, bodies crouched low.

Preparing to hide to the best of your ability, a hand on your arm keeps your movement at bay, discovered to belong to Bahng.

“Just keep in mind what Jisung said, by the time anyone finds you you’ll be rotted, pretty thing.” He sends you a sickeningly sweet smile, cocking the hammer of his gun and disappearing out the door where you hear someone shout: “I fucking knew we were being followed!” Prior to the loud ricochet of bullets being fired.

You duck down in the passenger seat, attempting to be as small and forgettable as possible out of sight. That is until a gunshot strikes the side of the car, narrowly bypassing where you’re curled up on the floorboard.

An involuntary scream escapes you, and your palm clamps over your mouth, shuddering and shaking like a leaf.

It’s a natural reaction, shrinking away, too horrified to act. So when your door is violently swung open, you prepare for the worst before recognizing Bin’s face, who legitimately rips you from the seat and drags you away.

Stopping beside a minimal clearing, you observe he isn’t carrying a weapon of any kind, a factor that makes your hopes slightly plummet. Granted, it’s not that you don’t think he’d be capable of defending himself (and you), but his fists against a gun didn’t sound too promising.

Swiftly instructed to not move, he races off, effectively tackling a man to the ground and leaving a pool of blood seeping where he lay.

Except, Bin abruptly evades your vision, leaving you to notice the prince-like boy in his stead, waving his arms and yelling something you strain to recognize.

“Behind you!” He had been shouting.

Your soul fills with dread.

In an instant you brace for impact, ears picking up the whirring of an object against the wind before the crack of a bat makes contact with your attackers head. The man goes down like a sack of bricks.

Bin, holding a nail embedded baseball bat propped on his shoulder, appeared just on time.

He had a streak of blood smeared across his cheek which you guessed belonged to someone else, and his knuckles lay bruised and torn despite the massive shit-eating grin slapped on his face.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks, voice hoarse and rough despite never looking more alive. It’s terrifying.

Shaken, you give yourself a once over, hurriedly shaking your head. He barks a laugh.

Gunshots eventually dying off, the nine of you regroup, some suffering minor injuries and others standing untouched.

Among them, the dagger-wielding criminal is one of the untouched. You’re not surprised.

Jisung is cussing wildly, leg ripped up pretty bad while leant against said dagger-wielding criminal, sending his counterpart a sour glare.

“Those motherfuckin’ assholes need ‘ta learn some fuckin’ manners..” Jisung spews curses, lips pulled up in a sneer as the others help him into the bullet-embedded car.

Reversing out of the densely packed foliage, no one dares say a word the entire rest of the drive, preoccupied with going back to their interrupted sleep or blankly gazing into the night.

The destination, appearing to be a company building by its exterior (and the lack of daylight), easily averages the size of an extreme warehouse. You curve into an enormous parking garage, every other space occupied by some multimillion dollar sports car.

Upon walking inside though, you’re left in the main entrance with Jisung while the remainder slip into a separate room.

His leg is bandaged thanks to “Jeongin”, whom, after briefly seeing them in brighter lighting, you guess is the youngest-looking one. Light hair and a smile you’re certain breaks all law-breaking guidelines.

Arrangement of chairs mimicking that of a doctor’s office, you guess the decorum is used to disguise what actually goes on here.

Clearing your throat, you debate on speaking about the question burning a hole through your skull.

“Why do you want me to live?”

Managing to haul himself backwards on a chair, Jisung shrugs.

“Why not? It’d be fun having someone other than those boneheads around.”

Typical Jisung reaction, you assume. This is the same dude bringing up murder like it’s a daily occurrence after all.

“Plus, we’re normally workin’ solo. Some circumstances forced us to work together.” He absentmindedly waved, and you bite the urge to ask about these so-called “circumstances”.

With Jisung, you can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or serious. You have a feeling asking him about it though would only lead to a response along the lines of: “Hey, it adds to the fun, right?” as if murder was a leisurely hobby.

You can’t help but feel baffled with how casually he talks about the additional men. Friends, as if they’re friends. Not like they would be, Jisung said it himself, “circumstances” pulled them together.

However, the danger they’d pose working as a team would be unreal. You didn’t even want to consider the possibility.

Goosebumps crawl upon your forearms.

"Y’know, I used to protect people like you." Han Jisung, whom you now recognized as The Arsonist, tilted his head to the side when he said that.

Strikingly beautiful, just like the others. Soft, round cheeks. Dark, soulful eyes and pursed, puffy lips.

You recall your grandmother telling you some of the prettiest flowers carry the most poison. Now it makes sense.

Blinking, you choose your words rather carefully.

This man, the one who upon first glance looks like he couldn’t harm a fly, burned down a printing firm yesterday. The same man alongside seven other notorious criminals discussing your fate.

Korea’s most wanted.

“Why’d you stop? Protecting people, I mean.” Coming out mumbled, you watch him click his tongue and change posture, not phased whatsoever.

It was a genuine question, considering whatever job he had before —if it came down to protecting— seemed to be something linked to the law. Unusual, for a criminal or his level.

“I got bored,” He yawned, lower lip jutting out.

Talk about a juxtaposition to his psychotic tendencies.

Bored. Han Jisung, The Arsonist, got bored of being a good guy.

It gave you a whole new perspective to insane.

“..You ask a bunch of questions, huh. I guess that makes sense since you might die- no! Not die- well, I’m not sure but- you’ll be fine!”

Wow Jisung. You seriously suck at convincing.

Oh how you wish your grandma would appear with her shovel right about now. Scratch that, you wish she would’ve swatted them over the head much earlier than now.

“Alright, but where will we keep her while Bahng decides on the cover up?” The seven go quiet, and if it wasn’t for the whirring of a fan overhead you would’ve guessed they were telepathically communicating, few sparing hasty glances at each other, waiting for someone to speak up.

Changbin was the one who asked, but he didn’t continue, nor even meet Bahng’s eyes despite his normal, boisterous behavior.

If there was one person they all had a running respect (and fear) of, it would be Bahng. He’d brought up the idea of working together, and he’d be the one leading in result.

Freckle Boy (the name The Hitman had came up with before learning Felix’s’ name) opens his mouth.

“I can—“

“She’ll stay with me.” Bahng interjects, and no one lifts a finger.

Changbin sees the blond’s pinched expression through his peripheral.

“But I have an extra—“

“You heard me, Felix. She stays with me,” He sternly repeats, and the younger deflates, mumbling something to himself after Hyunjin sends him a reassuring nod.

The atmosphere eased up slightly opposed to how suffocating it had been earlier, enough to where the men occupying their individual chairs took deep breaths of air they hadn’t know they’d been holding.

The door opens and they disperse in different directions while Bahng lags behind, speaking to Jeongin about something hushed.

You, on the other hand, are greeted with a rather sympathetic smile from the blond, telling you whatever they talked about wasn’t good.

From your right, Bin clears his throat, effectively giving you an unprecedented heart-attack.

“For the record, we weren’t planning to sell you.”

A grin grows on your face, taking this sweeter opportunity to pick some fun. You’re stuck here anyway, right?

“We weren’t? I think you were.”

He huffs, crossing muscular arms over his chest stubbornly. Behind him, a neighboring coffee-haired man snickers, earning Bin’s slap on the shoulder and a quiet “Yah.. Seungmin..” That completely sabotage any chance of taking him seriously.

“..I wasn’t.”

Mhm, definitely. Like the tips of his ears weren’t blood red.

The whiplash you’re getting from being treated you like a rag doll earlier becomes quite ironic.

Wasting time incessantly teasing the man, it’s not until he’s lead off by Bahng that you quiet down, awkwardly shifting your weight to either heel.

“..So?” You interrupt the silence, only given a jerk of Bahng’s head as a signal to follow. Talk about vague.

Overflowing with endless questions, he finally stops and turns to you, brows furrowed.

Attractive. My god he’s attractive.

“Would you just tell me where we’re-“You’re staying in my room for the time being.”

To say you felt shocked barely brushed the surface of your internal wasp nest, endlessly buzzing and swarming. His room? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“I mean,” He notes, looking amused now. “Unless you plan on staying in the other rooms with cameras and giving security a show then—“

“Fine.”

Sending you a smug grin, it’s hard not feeling bewildered as he rounds a corner, revealing one, the fact that he has literal guards standing on either side of the double doors, and two, that his “room” is the short story of a penthouse.

Wow.

.. .

Turning off the ignition, Changbin stuffs the keys in his pocket upon slipping inside, scrunching his nose at the sight before him.

“Fuck dude, you’re a tank.” The man groans, eyeing Chris who’s currently doing handstand push-ups on wooden parallettes.

When Chris is nowhere to be found, he’s here, hidden away in this partially abandoned gymnastics studio on the outskirts of Incheon. Small, though with all materials intact.

Occasionally teenagers would come roaming around, having heard of hauntings and gruesome murders they want to stick their noses in. It’s plausible, sure, the murder part at least.

Changbin didn’t believe in hauntings, because no horrific spirit ever dared deter him from enjoying his job, over and over. He didn’t have remorse, he didn’t feel.

Life was easier that way, without emotion driving your decisions.

In fact, he can’t recall the last time being a hitman scared him. Call it crazy, but if you think about it in terms of “eliminating those that shouldn’t be there”, he’s doing the world a favor.

He wouldn’t tell Bahng that for many reasons.

“And your mouth is still as bad as usual.” The older says through gritted teeth, slowly lowering his legs, coated in a sheen of sweat that greasily muss strands of hair.

He barks a laugh. “‘Can’t fix it.”

“That’s for sure,” Chris responds, grabbing the towel The Hitman held out with a thankful pat on the back.

Arranging the equipment back into its designated places, Changbin leans against the doorframe, brows lifted curiously.

“She’s sleeping, if you’re wondering.”

Telepathically, the man answers his unspoken question, referring to you who he imagines is prettily slumped in Chris’ bed.

Prettily. Did he say prettily?

Forget it.

Unknown to both your name and whereabouts, you begrudgingly pull the comforter closer over your head, successfully blocking the sunlight for a few more minutes of sleep. Your entire body is sore, and a numbing buzz has settled in your head, drowning out any cognitive ability to think.

Well, the extra time is amazing until your bladder decides to sabotage you.

Blindly blundering off the mattress, you idly navigate around, blinking a foggy haze from your vision.

Step, step, and then thump! You slam right into something—someone.

Finally granted a clear view, you swear your brain short-circuited.

It’s Bahng, staring down at you with a towel wrapped around his neck while water droplets cling to his skin—to his chest—that you notice is quite bare at the moment.

“Christ— Jesus—“ Slapping a hand over your eyes, you take multiple strides backwards, feet stumbling prior to hands grasping your wrists.

Easing you up right, he kindly leads your sleep-consumed form into the bathroom, big hands momentarily maneuvering your hips to the side on his way out.

Effectively stalling his movements, you silently drag him back closer to you, thumbs reaching up to smoothing his deep eye-bags.

He freezes, words he planned to say cut off.

His eyelids flutter shut in contentment, and in those tender seconds, you stand there, palms delicately cupping his cheeks, relaxing the hard lines of his face whilst steam gives the mirror a bleary cast.

Any other situation and you would’ve admitted yourself into a psych ward, but the alarm clock on his nightstand reading 7:18AM told you whatever you did next was all a lucid dream.

“You don’t sleep much.. do you?” Softly mumbling, he hums against your touch, own hand holding yours against his face.

Bahng cracks a barely there smile.

“Hard sleeping when the world’s after you,” He comments, remark laced with humorless hilarity. You can’t say you disagree.

Although, most good things—all good things—end far too quickly. Because when Changbin bursts through the door, voice choked in his throat, you hesitate your movements.

“.. Just uh, wanted to say the car’s waiting- I mean, the car’s ready for you. Yeah. Bye.” Awkwardly shuffling, he made a direct beeline for the door.

Never in your life did you expect a Hitman to be so awkward. And not just a Hitman, thee Hitman, Bin. Who, although you’d never say it to his face, definitely stuttered.

Unfortunately forced to separate, you’re handed one of his jackets once you managed to convince Bahng to let you come along.

Taking the elevator to the parking garage, an assistant who (you assume) routinely fetches the keys to an otherworldly expensive Lamborghini bows low, greeting either of you with a mandatory please-don’t-hurt-me smile.

You don’t ask where you’re headed, knowing the answer would only lead to more questions instead.

Bahng’s like that, you’ve discovered. Unpredictable to everyone but himself. Private.

Alternatively, compared to what you had imagined (something like a shed or a slaughter-house), he pulled into the gravel driveway of an old home, wooden docks on the roof sticking in strange directions, evidently battered from years of storm turmoil.

Sporting a confused expression yourself, he steps from the scissor doors, ushering you to follow suit.

A bit out of place, you decided. It’s not every day you witness a Lamborghini parked in front of a house like this.

“We’re visiting my grandmother, I visit every week.” He announces, and you could’ve seriously bet money on how uncharacteristic that move was.

This man, the man who ran disappeared at ungodly hours of night with unknown intentions, the man who killed with no remorse, was visiting his grandmother.

First Bin and now Bahng. What a wild card.

Living up to the title, Bahng couldn’t have been more opposing to his usual demeanor, shrugging off his coat and shoes at the doorway and fixing Barley tea for the short woman residing in her rocking chair.

Struggling to unzip his jacket that’s massive size engulfs your frame, you curiously explore, noting the sheer normality.

No weapons, no apparent knowledge of Bahng’s illegal activity patterning the household.

In this house, it’s just a grandmother and her grandson. Not Bahng, but Chris.

The name sounds strange on your tongue.

She wholeheartedly welcomed you in, scolding him for his prominent scars and holding hands that had unforgivable violence wedged between fingernails.

Somehow, watching him felt like betrayal. And although you doubt his grandmother would love him any less despite the gruesome reality, to know so much occurred behind the scenes made things, well, uncomfortable.

You be sure to introduce yourself, spending a good hour and a half entertaining the wrinkled woman before bidding your farewells and returning to familiar stifling tension on the drive home.

Your piling conscious suggests you say something, but you second guess yourself, ultimately garnering the courage after many failed attempts of making small talk once you both returned back to his room.

He’s wearing glasses now, and you swear you’ve never seen someone so unbearably beautiful in your life. Hell, him merely breathing has any comprehensible phrase disappearing instantaneously.

“Have you told anyone about what you do?” You start, causing him to lean over from his place on the side of the mattress, fiddling with something on the nightstand.

You crane to hear his response.

“Sometimes it’s best to lie to keep both parties happy.”

…That’s a no.

“Then, Chris, would you rather be happy living a lie or sad knowing someone’s honest truth?”

Chris.

Though his real name, the words still sound foreign, especially aloud.

He seems to have felt the same, head snapping your direction.

Grinning.

“And what do you know about lying, sweetness?”

“It’s not what I know, it’s what you want to know.” You scoot closer to him, mimicking his cocky smile. “Here’s an example, would you be happy not knowing I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, or sad hearing that I didn’t plan to tell you?”

A low chuckle.

“Did you learn the manipulation part from Minho?”

“Is it working?”

Eyes flickering back and forth from his lips to his eyes, you find yourself lingering centimeters apart, both intoxicated on each bated breath.

“A little bit,” He whispers, unwavering stare flickering to your parted lips before he pulls the glasses off his face and tilts his head to capture your lips.

You hastily climb onto the bed, fingers tangled in his tousled curls that peer from straight hair.

New, but not. As if you’ve kissed him all your life.

Working down your neck, his warm grip eases your legs apart, transitioning from kneading the flesh of your inner thighs to your ass.

“Oh— fuck.” You sigh out, delicious pressure applied right where you needed him most, stirring a deep wave of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body.

The Gunsman has you wrapped around his finger. A man whose power owns guards that stand in front of his seemingly normal door, a man whose power leaves you helplessly entangled in his every move, neck accessorized in his love bites.

Its wrong. Everything is hopelessly wrong.

You can’t get enough.

.. .

Index dragging across the fabric of sheets, your attention bursts alive, body jarring in a hold, someone else’s hold.

Bahng’s hold.

His head is tucked into your neck, arms hugging your bare back against his equally bare body. Bahng feels like comfort, home.

You never thought you’d be referring to a criminal when you said that.

Adjusting, you manage to roll over, admiring his ever kissable lips puckered in a pout, bed-hair forming strange shapes in the side of his pillow before mesmerizing brown eyes begin fluttering open.

Quickly rolling back around, you attempt at pretending to be asleep to no avail, because Bahng buries his face closer to the nape of your neck, sighing a lengthy groan.

Hands exploring you absentmindedly, he ensures to squeeze your chest at least once, otherwise keeping a tender touch settled on your tummy.

“G’morning…” He grumbles hoarsely, barely awake prior to his phone buzzing on the nightstand and his hushed “fuck” earning a giggle from you.

Caller ID: Hwang Hyunjin, the screen reads.

Without even a proper warning, he’s simultaneously thrown into a shark tank the moment the call’s accepted.

So long for the morning afterglow.

“It’s ready,” The Physic utters, and the soft fizzing of chemicals in the background do nothing to cease his foaming pit of guilt.

Grateful you couldn’t see the tight-lipped expression he burns the wall with, he grimaces, sparing you a longing glance.

So peaceful, so beautiful.

This world truly is cruel.

Rising to his feet, he throws on a white button-up, adorned by one of the many black trench coats lining his closet. Discreet, convenient.

Reminding you to stay in bed till he gets back, he finds his footsteps faltering on the way down to the lab.

Bahng, Christopher Bahng, The Gunsman, is nervous.

You’ve really done something to him.

Although, before he can make a move Felix pries the door ajar, and from how he furiously chews his bottom lip immediately answers Chris’ question.

The final part of their cover-up? Getting you back.

Because everyone, including himself, knew he’d fall in love. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t, wouldn’t dare put you through that.

Wafting fumes invade his nostrils entering (essentially) Hyunjin’s lair, multiple cloths layered in a clear box.

“Chloroform, I messed with it a bit. It’s not concentrated enough to be lethal. It’ll just put her out for a little bit.” He pats the top of the box, tugging medical gloves off ringed fingers.

From across the room, Chris can feel eyes on him.

“And how do you know if it won’t kill her?” The person asks, Changbin asks, critiquing gaze fixated on Chris despite regarding Hyunjin.

“Because I tested it? Since when did you care?” Moodily, The Physic cross his arms.

“Since now.”

“Why? Weren’t you the one who wanted to sell her?”

Chris can smell the uprising tension from a mile away.

“Because I’m allowed to care about someone! Am I not, your fucking highness?” Changbin shouts, but hidden by Hyunjin’s irked facade, Chris notices the slight tug of his lips, the peeking amusement.

Turns out Chris wasn’t the only one falling.

What a twist of events.

Interrupting their face-off, he hoists the moderately heavy box up, curtly nodding to Hyunjin.

Maneuvering around the warehouse back toward your room, he fastens a mask onto his face, spreading a few separate cloths into a smaller container.

Felix and Hyunjin’s doing, Chloroform cloths.

There were a few recommendations. Minho suggested knocking you out and going about, Seungmin with the grand idea of blackmailing you into leaving, and Jisung who wanted to keep you here.

Chloroform it was.

Returning to his bedroom, he finds himself understanding Changbin’s anger the longer he watches you, drifted back asleep, angel-like.

Fuck.

This hurts.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he delicately caresses the skin of your cheek, squinting to marvel, to study. The way your eyebrows furrow, exhaling a big breath. Infatuating.

“Can I take you to my favorite place?” He inquires, and you dazedly roll around, small frown gracing oh so tempting lips, swollen from the night before.

“Your favorite place..?”

Even your voice is infatuating. Dreamy.

Chris hums his reply.

Lifting yourself up, you agree, letting him take care of you, brush your teeth for you, undress you. Things oddly mundane for a person like him to want to do, but oddly sweet all the same.

Not sexual, but intimate. Dearly, dearly intimate.

The drive winds along backroads, slowing to take a right down a barren, rocky road situated between countless trees. In the distance you make out the faint glow of light, a clearing.

Upon breaching the forest, your expectations are instantly blown away.

Sundown, evidence of how long you’d slept (and how long Chris had kept you up), gloriously paints the sky dazzling hues.

No picture could encompass this view.

Putting the car into park, you perch on the hood, legs aimlessly swinging, breeze idly passing by.

Admire.

“I asked Jisung, but now I wanna hear it from you.”

He stays quiet.

“Why did you want me to live?” You mischievously pique, fingers drumming.

Bahng approaches nearer, turning to stand between your legs where you sit.

“I like you,” He nonchalantly responds, and the overwhelming need to push him further, dance over that thin line becomes irresistible.

“Only ‘like’ me?”

Licking his lips, he unexpectedly tilts your head to meet him. Tender, gentle.

Your heart hurts. Because unlike previously, this kiss feels regretful, feels sad.

Your arms, once clutching onto that trademark trenchcoat, wrap around his neck, his finding purchase upon your hips.

Yet, you could tell it wasn’t greed driving him. Your earlier ravenous desire, your lust, was gone.

Instead, he was carving you into his memories, starting with his lips. He’d already done so with his hands, with his body the night before.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, and before you could ask any questions he forces your attention back to his eyes, swimming with an emotion you didn’t know Chris could exhibit.

Hurt.

Inexplicable hurt overwhelm that stare. Creases his always-taut brows.

“Just trust me, please.”

Please.

“Chris,” You hesitate.

There’s been that gnawing sensation ever since getting roped into this circus. Because this was only temporary, undoubtedly headed to an inexplicable conclusion.

You wonder if perhaps this is your end, your end with Bahng, with Chris.

Someone you’ve fallen in love with. So, so fucking hard.

And from the way he’s looking at you, it looks like he has too.

But you trust him. You trust him more than you had ever trusted anyone before, and so you nod.

“Chris, I love..”

Your volume dissolves upon the cloth being held to your face, eyes rolling back into your head as you fall limp into his arms, fingertips still touching his skin.

“..Love ….you.”

He kisses you once more, slower this time, cradling you in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, I love you.”

Speaking softly to avoid his pain betraying him, Bahng carefully situates you into the passenger seat, ignoring the drone of the engine from how rapidly the speedometer climbs. Numb to anything, everything.

The Aventador’s screen alights with a call.

“What,” He rasps, gleaming traffic lights casting red and green shadows across the car’s black interior.

“Is she...?” Felix asks, and Chris eases slightly. Subtle shuffling in the background reveals the others presence, awaiting the bottom line.

“Yeah.”

The freckled boy hums in response, dejection apparent.

Nevertheless, not a peep sounds, unusual for the usually rowdy crowd. Chris can tell some of them walk away, some staying.

Corn stalks ghosting past signify his location.

He hangs up.

He’ll apologize later.

.. .

Waking up inside your grandparents house feels like a fever dream, like your body isn’t your own and when you open your eyes you’ll still be snuggled into Chris’s arms.

But you aren’t, and you’re also violently kicked out of that fantastical daydream when your grandmother shows up, all smiles, no “I’m so relieved to see you’re safe” or “where did you go?” apparent on any of her features.

“Why, you never told me you had a boyfriend!” She smacks your arm and you flinch back, wearing an expression only comprehensible as puzzlement.

Perhaps Chris payed them? Bought their silence and hid from the law in return?

But that’s not your grandparents. They wouldn’t keep their mouths shut about something like this.

So what the hell did he do?

“The handsome young man who drove you here from the airport!” Waddling over to point an accusing finger at the doorway, your head frantically snaps in every direction.

Your suitcases are zipped up, and no evidence of you ever even arriving here shows around the room.

That is until you notice your phone has miraculously returned on your nightstand.

Immediately swiping to scroll through messages, your thumb stops, lingering over a message from an unknown number.

Pausing, you click.

Don’t come looking for me, but if you need me, text this number.

You would’ve found the text eerily creepy if you didn’t have an idea of who sent it.

You do.

Because there’s no one else that says ‘don’t come looking for me’ and ‘if you need me’ in the same sentence other than him.

Bahng.

FIC TAGLIST. @lizzetmv @skzhoes @fylithia @sunshineshouyo @stayconnecteed @starlost-andfound @seo--changbin @lynlyndoll @browniesandsunshine @stay278 @surefornext @pororolifeblog @httpsjuno @d7n3

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