#the Mind/Brain is not working independently from the Body | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frannyzooey · 28 days

Text

Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same.

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one.

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own.

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth.

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed.

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception.

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live.

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him.

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head.

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid.

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful.

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there.

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head.

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief.

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease.

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table.

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss.

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes.

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear.

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot.

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were.

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup.

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?”

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper.

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you.

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash.

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you.

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup.

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach.

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while.

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.”

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep.

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind.

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool.

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me.

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him.

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together.

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer.

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away.

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep.

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in.

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in.

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it.

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night.

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself.

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up.

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear.

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness.

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted.

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen.

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark.

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline.

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that.

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end.

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?”

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows.

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else.

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it.

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself.

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours.

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever.

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head.

He drank a glass of water, listening.

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor).

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs.

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone.

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in.

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs.

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned.

“In here?”

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding.

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased.

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her. Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt.

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes.

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats.

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you.

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen.

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep.

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark.

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him.

“What did you think?” you asked quietly.

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths.

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging.

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed.

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled.

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop.

Bending down, he kissed you.

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip.

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso.

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat.

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin.

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts.

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit.

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers.

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand.

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan.

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off.

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head.

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in.

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it.

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been.

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours.

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek.

You shook your head.

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace.

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat.

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone.

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate.

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release.

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine.

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months –

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it.

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head.

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below.

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths.

You stared right back, holding him tight.

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you.

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw.

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat.

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone.

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him.

The way he wanted you to need him all along.

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue.

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

587 notes · View notes

samuraisharkie · 2 years

Text

Having the worst time currently with sensory issues, anxiety, OCD, depression, long COVID, all of it. On top of that I’ve got autistic burnout and I can’t soothe it bc I can’t do any of the things I like without careful calculation on how that would annoy someone or I wouldn’t do some chore instead or the mental block keeping me from doing anything other than forcing myself to do absolutely anything even while I really REALLY want to and I can feel it all slipping away the longer I don’t do it and it makes me so damn depressed

#vent #i can’t even mindlessly watch a video. i randomly pause and just sit there in misery???#how do I fucking fix this I hate it #I have ideas I can’t fucking get out #things I wanna talk about but my language center hates me so I only have half the idea and no one can meet me halfway #bc I don’t make any fucking sense #I love art I like creating things but after so long viewing it as getting in the way of being independent #coming back to it knowing it’s actually the future I wanted and I wasted my time losing skill I have to work back to that I should have had #it’s so fuckin upsetting and stressful #and my body is just. deteriorating #I’ll bet walking outside would help but I hate my neighborhood and I can’t drive to get away from it #and also I can’t just. act independently that would cause drama bc I have to be mindful of what everyone else wants me to do #and if I disappoint them I feel like shit #I have a problem that is not medicated I know I do there’s got to be something that helps with this #I have like ZERO executive function rn and I’m oscillating between super frustrated and then #relieved that I don’t have to hurt my body for work anymore #but my brain just. atrophied over the time I spent surviving and idk if I have the strength to pull myself back up on my own?#which is terrifying and I hope it’s not true I want to have that strength #I want to get back to where I was so I can move forward instead of just barely treading water #i need something to help me focus but I don’t think adderal is what I need #I got prescribed it for a bit but I’m not sure if it was making me function normally or if I just saw it that way from a mild high #I definitely don’t need to be anymore lethargic than I already am #my eye lids keep fucking twitching idk if that has something to do with it but only started after I finally quit my job #i feel like I need a place I’m just alone free of outside stimulation only the things I want to feel or see #and time to just tunnel myself into creating something and come back out of it after it’s run it’s course #I need horse blinders or something and a work table and a bunch of inspiring stuff to look through #and then to just make something by myself without worrying about time

1 note · View note

azrielslightintheshadows · 6 months

Text

Princess

Azriel x f!Reader

One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse and trauma, swearing

Masterlist.

Princess Masterlist.

Chapter 6

No matter how hard you tried to block the bond, Azriel was practically shoving all his feelings to you. Anger, disappointment and resentment.

“Yeah I know how you feel about me shut up” you screamed hoping he could hear you. You shook your head and chuckled.

I’m going mad. Look at me I’m alone in my bedroom screaming. You thought.

Nah that’s just the effect Azriel has on anyone.

You froze. Did your brain just reply to you? Your brain is male?

No darling I’m not your brain. You are practically screaming all your thoughts for every daemati in Prythian to hear.

Rhysand?

Yeah, since you destroyed my peaceful nap why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?

You huffed.

Azriel is bothering me. I don’t want that stupid bond. I don’t want to be tied to a male now that I’m taking control of my life.

Azriel would never try to control you, on the contrary he would love to help you become stronger and independent.

He didn’t comment on the bond, so he already knew you figured.

He resents me, and even if he didn’t how could I be with a male that treated me like shit ever since I stepped foot in your court.

That’s between the two of you. Now next time you decide to think so loudly please raise a shield around your mind I really need my beauty sleep.

You snorted at that, and a smile appeared on your lips.

How do I do that?

Think of a wall around your mind.

Okay thank you.

I hope everything works out for the two of you.

You didn’t reply.

You glanced outside and noticed the sun setting. You realized that you had stayed in your room for the whole day and with a sigh you got ready.

You peeked your head out of your room checking for any sign of Azriel, when you were sure that he wasn’t lurking around you stepped out and started walking down the hall. You found the door of the house quite easily and stepped outside.

10.000 steps. I can do this.

You started walking down the stairs, at some point you lost count of the steps, you were panting, and your knees trembled.

I can do this.

You gritted your teeth and forced yourself further down. Black dots appeared in your vision, and you felt yourself slipping, you tried to grab the stones around you but you couldn’t hold on. You closed your eyes waiting for the impact. Something hard hit your back and then strong arms wrapped around your waist. You opened your eyes again and you were in the air. Azriel’s scent of cedar and whiskey filled your nostrils and your body relaxed automatically.

When your feet touched the ground of the main street of Velaris Azriel gripped your elbow and turned you, so you were facing him. His face was filled with anger as he stared down at you.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He growled.

“I just wanted to go for a stroll in the city, I didn’t want to bother any of you.” You confessed. Your voice steady and loud and you kept your eyes on his as you spoke.

“Did you really believe that you could go down 10.000 steps?” He exclaimed and threw his hands in the air making some faes look at the two of you.

“I don’t know I just wanted to try” you glanced at the ground as you realized how stupid it was.

“Next time find one of us, and if you can’t just pull the bond” he was calm now. His hand moved to your face, and he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thank you” you smiled and stared into his eyes.

He held your stare and you both stood there frozen for a few minutes. Nesta’s words replayed in your mind making your heart clench. You took a step back and cleared your throat.

“I should go, you probably have more important things to do” you said and hurried off before Azriel could reply.

You strolled around the city, smiling at the small children who were running around the streets. You found Rita’s easily and stepped inside, your eyes immediately scanning the bar searching for Aeden. You spotted him and walked to the bar, taking a stool and sitting right in front of him.

“Do I expect the lovely company of the shadowsinger too or just you?” he quirked a brow.

“Just me” you smiled.

“Okay then” he returned your smile. “Mood?”

“Hm definitely better than the last time” you replied.

He grabbed two bottles and filled two glasses, he grabbed a straw and stirred, placing it in his mouth when he was done and tasting. He hummed and placed one of the glasses in front of you, keeping the other for him.

“Did I get you in trouble with the shadowsinger?” he asked with a worried expression.

“Not at all, he just took me home and let me sleep” you shrugged.

“Okay then.” he replied and then stared at you. “I don’t think that this was how a babysitter would act…”

“I know. He is my mate” you replied, and Aeden choked on his drink.

“You could fucking start with that” he exclaimed. “You tell me that you have a babysitter and never mention that said babysitter is the fucking god of death, and now you let me speak about him without mentioning that he is your mate” his voice was practically a high pitch noise at the end of the sentence.

“God of death?” you furrowed your eyebrows and Aeden nodded.

“Anyway, I didn’t think it was important, I’m going to reject him” you shrugged.

“Why?”

“You just called him the fucking god of death and now you’re asking me why?” you snorted.

“You females love dark and dangerous males.” He replied.

“True, but only when they treat us differently than everyone else. In my case this doesn’t happen, he is making my life a nightmare.”

“But…why?” Aeden’s face was filled with confusion.

“I don’t really know. I suppose he doesn’t like the way I was raised, and he thinks I’m weak.”

“That’s not a valid reason” he shook his head.

“I know!” you huffed “What about you? Do you have a mate?”

“My mate died in the war with the king of Hybern” Aeden frowned. “He was an Illyrian warrior.”

“He?” you asked with wide eyes.

“Yup, my mate was a male”.

“I didn’t know this was possible” you said.

“Two males falling in love?” Aeden quirked his brow.

“No, I know this can happen, being mates I meant” you explained.

“Oh yeah I didn’t know either.” He shrugged. “So you prefer the company of males, or it was just the bond?” your question was genuine, and Aeden smiled.

“Trying to get into my pants dollface?” he asked and chuckled by your shocked expression. “I like both males and females so you might actually have a chance” he winked. You shook your head with a grin.

“But if I was in your place, I wouldn’t lose the opportunity to get that shadowsinger into my bed. He is so fucking hot” he continued.

“Tell me about it” you mumbled and then gasped, your hand shooting up and covering your mouth.

Aeden burst into laughter at your confession and clapped his hands.

“Shut up” you whined and hid your face with your hands.

You stayed with Aeden for a few hours and when the club filled with faes you kissed him goodbye and left. You really enjoyed your time with him. You walked around the city with a smile on your face, happy that you made a new friend. As the night settled for good you reached the first steps of the house of wind and glared at them.

One day. You thought and glanced up.

You didn’t want to tug the bond in case Azriel was with Gwyn, you didn’t want to interrupt them especially if Gwyn has feelings for him. You ignored the ache in your chest at the thought and opened the shield around your mind.

Rhysand! You shouted.

You don’t have to shout. He whined.

Sorry, I need someone to take me to the house.

Okay.

The beating sound of wings filled the silence and Azriel landed in front of you.

“Rhysand called me” he explained when he noticed your confusion.

The first buttons of his shirt were undone, his toned chest on display and his hair a tangled mess. You bit your lip and removed your gaze from him. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to interrupt” you said.

“Interrupt what?” he asked.

“Whatever you were doing.” You replied and stepped closer. He picked you up and shot to the sky. When you landed you quickly removed yourself from his arms and walked inside.

“You’ve been drinking” he noted.

“Yeah I was at Rita’s”

A low growl escaped his throat.

“With that bartender?” he asked, and you snorted. The nerve that male has.

“How’s Gwyn?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Azriel stared at you with a confused look.

“Okay I guess?” he replied, “How is that relevant?”

“Forget about it” you sighed and started walking towards your room.

“Why did you ask me about Gwyn?” he pressed following you.

“Because I know you’re fucking her.” You shouted.

“What?” his eyes narrowed “even if I did, its none of your business”.

“The same goes about who I am fucking”.

In a blink Azriel had you pressed against the wall , his face inches away from yours and his shadows covering both of you. You could only see, feel and smell him, nothing else.

“Are you fucking him?” he snarled.

“Its none of your business” you smirked surprising both you and him. “Answer me” he yelled and punched the wall beside your head. The spot on the wall collapsed and you flinched. His face became red and his eyes watered.

“Fucking answer me” he yelled again, and a few tears escaped.

You gaped at him. You couldn’t understand why he was acting like that.

“Azriel you’re scaring me” you whispered.

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds and pushed himself off you. He gestured at your door, and you walked in shutting and locking it.

You leaned against the door and closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself.

You heard a small thud, and the door shook slightly. You felt his presence through the bond and realized that he was leaning against the door too.

What’s happening? You thought and a tear escaped.

If I forgot to tag someone please let me know! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

@glitterypirateduck, @zara-aliza08, @mika-no-sekai-blog , @purpleshoelaces , @act1839 , @fasoaurore , @pinksmellslikelove , @bunnyredgirl , @lectoracronica , @tuggboatfishin , @sunnysideup000 , @blessthepizzaman , @universevsd , @raisinggray , @ssmay123 , @kalulakunundrum, @justasillylittlegoofyguy , @tsunami-of-tears , @just-a-social-casualty-1 , @thelov3lybookworm , @saltedcoffeescotch, @justdreamstars

283 notes · View notes

chronicdisasterwrites · 9 months

Text

these morons of jujutsu high

pairing: gojo satoru, geto suguru, shoko ieiri and fem!reader

genre + warnings: - this is NOT a poly fic. they’re all just vvv good friends. nanami and haibara were mentioned. mentions of blood, death and general jujutsu kaisen TW stuff. smoking, the word “goddamned” is mentioned. gojo being an idiot lmfao.

overall FLUFF !!

word count: 1219

authors note: so this is just a cute, heartfelt piece about the jjk troublemakers including and reader. i was thinking of making this the intro of a potential series but ✨ let’s see ✨

enjoyyyy <3

Is this really my life?

A question that always lingers in your mind.

Being a jujutsu sorcerer was no walk in the park. Death was a regular occurrence in your line of work. Deaths you anticipated, deaths you caused, deaths of friends, and even deaths of curses. None of them are ever easy to deal with. Nothing about this goddamned job is easy.

The smell of blood is as common to you as the smell of antiseptics is to a doctor. The sound of a curse evaporating into nothingness is ingrained in your brain as the sound of a child's first laughter is ingrained in the minds of their parents. Your hands are used to the touch of the cold steel of your weapons as a guitarist is used to the wood of their guitar.

This is your life. Your weapons are your instruments and the world is your stage. The only difference is, you have the blood of the crowd on your hands every. single. day. The blood of curses, the blood of humans, the blood of your comrades, and the blood of your own body.

How could it be that this life; so full of hurt, pain, despair, regret, fear, loneliness, anxiety, and depression, can also have so much happiness, love, excitement, companionship, adventure, humor, and serenity? That’s life, you suppose. But how can a life like yours have so much love alongside such hatred?

Your friends are the reason, you suppose.

These morons of Jujutsu High.

They feel the same emotions as deeply as you do. They have all felt loss, betrayal, grief, and death as much as you have.

Gojo Satoru had basically been raised as a trophy or a high-value product kept in perfect condition for the world to gawk at with wide eyes and ulterior motives. With the weight of the responsibility of being ‘Strongest’ hanging over his shoulders and daggers and spears pointed at him from every direction, he never had the chance to be a mere child. Which is what he was. Just a child. From birth to the present day, he has had eyes on him with the neon sign labeled ‘Strongest Sorcerer Ever’ blinking over his head. Always on his guard, being wary of who to trust. Not a moment to be a child. Not a moment to be a teenager and certainly not a moment to be an independent adult, free to choose who to love or what to do in life. He only has one thing to do. One obligation he has had since birth. Be the strongest. Throughout the heavens and the earth, he alone is the honored one.

It's a pretty lonely role for one person to bear.

Geto Suguru has kind eyes, a simple smile, and an extremely feared cursed technique; but what that smile and easygoing personality covers is his heart burdened with the horrors he has had to face in his life. He too, was born with the responsibility of using his cursed technique to help people. Born with the ability to absorb curses and later use them as he so desires. Living every day just killing and absorbing something that tastes like a rag covered in vomit and shit. Having to force your oesophagus to open up and force your mind to think of something more delicious whilst absorbing the thing you killed a few minutes ago is all second nature to Geto Suguru. Doesn’t mean it ever gets easier. But the smile comes easily to him and his voice stays soft and stable as his words soothe even those who hate him.

Because Geto Suguru wants to help those who are weak, and he would swallow all the curses necessary in order to do so.

Shoko Ieiri is the epitome of genius. Since she was a child she knew fully how to use the reversed curse technique; the ability to heal oneself and others, a technique even the strongest and most experienced jujutsu sorcerers have trouble mastering. Being so valuable means she has to stay in a lot, or go to missions alone a lot. She doesn’t get to choose missions, doesn’t get to accompany her friends to even ‘potentially’ dangerous locations. Being so valuable, she is the first person every jujutsu sorcerer goes to for healing and rejuvenation. Which also means she has to see a lot of her comrades lie on the steel bed, lifeless and cold and limp. She is the one who has to patch them up and she is the one who has to cut them open. Dealing with death and the aftermath is her job.

That's a lot of death for two eyes to see and two hands to explore.

Meeting them, knowing them, and growing to love them is the most rewarding experience your roller coaster of a life has had to offer by far. Checking out every single cafe Japan has to offer, milking Satoru of all his wealth by going out to eat and Satoru eating the most (ironically), pissing off Yaga-Sensei, celebrating birthdays, arguing and then making up with actions instead of verbal apologies, being the loudest group in every train station, smoke breaks with Shoko and Suguru while hiding away from Satoru, spending sleepless nights under the stars with Satoru, teasing Nanami and Haibara for acting like a 50-year-old married couple, fighting curses and always having each other’s backs. This was your family. However dysfunctional and however small.

So now, sitting in the classroom watching Suguru and Satoru bicker about who knows what this time, with Shoko sitting next to you fiddling around with Satoru’s sunglasses making faces and terrible impressions, bathed in the golden rays flooding the room through the windows as the sun goes down, you ponder the question; is this really your life?

You hear your name being called and the train of thought comes to a halt, as you look up to find honey-gold eyes staring back at you.

“What’re you thinking about so hard?” Suguru asks with his soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“She’s obviously thinking about how right I am and how wrong you are, Suguru,” Satoru interjects with his usual cocky smile and teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, she definitely thinks a seal can beat a hippo in a fight to the death,” Shoko quips with unimpressed eyes and an obviously sarcastic smile.

Satoru slaps his hand on the desk so loudly that the sound reverberates throughout the entire floor you’re on, “HAH! Thank you Shoko, exactly what I’m saying. Of course I’m right.”

He wears an accomplished smile as the sarcasm completely flies over his stupid head.

“Gojo… I was joking. You’re obviously wrong.”

You can almost hear something crack in his head. The sound of disappointment.

“HEY just think about it okay? So a seal-“

As a new chapter of bickering begins between Shoko and Satoru, Suguru nudges your shoulder with a quirk of his eyebrows, silently repeating his previous question.

You look at him, look back at Satoru and Shoko and shake your head with a content smile and a huff of laughter, “Just thinking about life, I guess.”

With a hum and a smile Suguru relaxes on your other side as you both turn your attention to the ongoing argument unravelling before you.

Yeah. This really is my life.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #shoko x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #gojo uses sarcasm but fails to understand it when someone uses it on him #shoko is babygirl #geto is babie boy #nanami and haibara are a certified married couple #yaga wants to die #i love them your honor #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #shoko ieiri x reader

651 notes · View notes

pjoxreader · 1 year

Text

PJO Boys Helping With Reader's Period

Leo Valdez

-This man is a mechanical genius, he would make you anything and everything. Just say the word.

-So when he sees you hesitating about asking him for something he pokes and prods until you cave in, asking him to make you a heating pad.

-It takes a few seconds for the gears in his brain to turn before he gets it. “Ohhh! Yeah! Yeah! That’s no problem, I’m sure I can cook something up! Just give me a night!”

-There’s no way he wouldn’t drop everything if he knew your comfort was on the line.

-He’d go around and ask the other girls in camp about the sort of things that helped them with cramps.

-Sure enough the next morning he’d bring you a horribly wrapped gift with a sleepy grin, offering you the heating pad he made. It not only had different heat levels and wrapped around your entire body to help with lower back cramps, it also had multiple massaging functions.

-Please take a nap with him, after all that work he’d want nothing more.

Frank Zhang

-He tries so hard to be helpful. He really tries. It isn’t his fault that all the women in his family were very strong and independent.

-You once asked him to get you some pads. He ended up coming back with six different boxes and some tampons just in case.

-”...Frank…” you complain as he sets the all down on your bed, you could see his hesitance as he tries to figure out what he did wrong.

-”Did… Did I not get enough?” You can’t stay mad at him since he looked like a worried puppy.

-He ends up working on some basic tasks instead like getting your craving for you. That? That he can do.

-He’ll bring you anything from Hot coco, to your favorite chocolate or sweet. And if it’s very specific he’ll go to Nico to ask if he could shadow travel for it.

-He also keeps a little stash of some of your favorite snacks, just in case he isn’t able to get what you’re craving in time.

Percy Jackson

-Sally Jackson raised this man right. SHE RAISED HIM RIGHT.

-He carries around both tampons and pads, no questions asked for anyone who needs it. Not only is he naturally charming, he's genuinely a sweet guy.

-You accidently bleed through onto his bed? No worries he can just wash it. It isn’t the first time he’s had to get blood out of something.

-He’ll give you massages to help with your cramps. It doesn’t matter how long it takes as long as it helps you feel better.

-He claims it’s a good workout so he doesn’t mind doing it.

-Don’t expect to get anything yourself during your period. You need food? He’s on his way. Water? Already got it.

-When it’s time to sleep he’ll hold you close and gently rub circles into your hip and side, whispering loving words of affirmation. He knows your emotions could get a bit wild during this time of the month. He’s the best boyfriend you could ask for.

Jason Grace

-He’s clueless. He was raised by wolves after all and the time he was with his family he was too young to be informed about… That.

-At least the look of utter horror on his face is amusing. He looks down there as if you’d start spurting blood, face utterly pale.

-”But… Won’t you like… Bleed out or something?” he asks in utter concern.

-You have to try so hard to not laugh at him. Please set him down and borrow one of the Apollo kids books on the subject.

-He will 100% be staring in utter horror as if you’re explaining to him how to commit murder but he’s at least listening.

-He has a new respect for women now and to be honest he’ll be a bit scared of them for a while.

-He’ll go to the other girls of Argo ll to make sure that you weren’t just messing with him.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

#pjo x reader #pjo x reader fluff #pjo #hoo #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #jason grace x reader #fluff #pjo fluff

906 notes · View notes

ophelia-writes-fics · 6 months

Text

i like when you get mad (i guess i'm pretty glad that you're alone) [kilgrave x reader - 18+]

You're a dancer at a club, and your shift just took a weird turn.

Tags (please read!): fem!reader, degradation, some mild praise, spanking, oral sex, face-fucking, cum swallowing, penetration, choking, erotic asphyxiation, unsafe/unprotected sex, face slapping, clit slapping, masochism (reader), sadism (kilgrave), humiliation, biting, scratching, bruising, some minor blood, threats, condescension, painplay, pain kink, minor bondage, edging, orgasm delay, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, mind control, mention of voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight dacryphilia, overstimulation, hair pulling, posessiveness

Word count: ~7.7k

CWs/TWs:

super dubious consent (reader likes him and consents to everything/is into the things they're doing without being compelled to, but some orders are given that can't be resisted and it's not pre-negotiated, so proceed with caution)

un-negotiated kink and unsafe choking/breathplay (i know you guys know but please don't choke anyone like this and please ask for consent in general but especially with kinks)

it's kilgrave. he's a walking red flag.

i'm not condoning anything irl, but this is fiction and i'm a kinky bitch, so i'm sexualizing this absolute maniac and i am having a lot of fun doing it lmao

You were leaning against the bar, scanning the crowd as you took your first shot of the shift. It was Friday night, with most of the crowd being well-dressed men who looked like they’d just finished with a long day of work, which meant you’d be going home with enough tips to pay your rent early.

The most eager members of the crowd were seated near the stage, where your friend had them utterly captivated with an elaborate pole routine, so you began to search the back of the house for customers who might want something more private. A group of college girls already drunk off Red Bull and vodka, cheering and shouting compliments at the dancers with the kind of unbridled joy and solidarity that only drunk girls can summon…a man who’d clearly been dragged there by his friends, his eyes glued to his phone, his blush visible even in the dimly lit club…a bouncer pulling a particularly belligerent customer towards the door…

There. On the other side of the room was a tall, sharp-featured man in a dark purple suit, sitting alone, looking thoroughly bored with the performance onstage, glancing over at you every now and again with what appeared to be a look of interest. Perfect.

You quickly ran a hand through your hair, took a deep breath, and plastered on your most winningly seductive smile before strolling towards him with as much ease as you could muster in six-inch stilettos.

“Hello there, love,” you purred, leaning forward against the table he was seated at. “Is there anything I can do for you tonight?”

You thought you’d gotten every possible response to that question before. You’d seen everything from polite rejection to aggressive groping to desperate requests for friendship or conversation, but what you’d never experienced and certainly weren’t expecting was a glance up and down your body followed by a discontented sigh and a slight frown, then a “Fine. You’ll do.”

You opened your mouth to tell the stranger off, but before you could, he held up a finger to silence you, then leaned in closer.

“Take me to your most secluded room. Don’t ask any questions, don’t stop to talk to anyone. Go.”

Your head immediately began to spin. Your brain felt cloudy, as if someone had swept every thought from your mind and replaced them with a thick, impenetrable fog. Before you could try to shake the feeling away, your body was already moving, walking briskly towards the back of the club, seemingly completely independently of your own will. Get to a private room echoed over and over, clouding all the other thoughts that you were desperately trying to muster. You felt wrong, like a puppet with your limbs being jerked around by some unseen controller, no free will of your own to be found. No, not a puppet, your mind vaguely registered. A doll.

You heard one of your friends calling you, asking something or maybe just saying hello, but when you tried to turn your head to respond, don’t stop to talk to anyone pierced your skull like a shard of ice, ringing in your ears like an intrusive thought. You didn’t stop walking even for a second. You didn’t even look at your friend. Something was very, very wrong.

Your stomach was in knots by the time you got to an empty room, your heart racing against your ribcage like a trapped bird against a windowpane. You leaned against the wall, trying desperately to steady yourself as the strange man followed you inside.

“Lock the door,” he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand. The door was closed and bolted shut before you even realized you’d moved.

You tried to say, or even think What did you do to me? But the same cold, cloudy pain overtook your head. Don’t ask questions. You shut your eyes tightly and clenched your fist as your body swayed, shaken by the unfamiliar sensation, feeling your breath grow shallow with panic. When your vision refocused, you stared at the stranger, who was tossing his suit jacket aside, reclined lazily on the couch like he hadn’t a care in the world. He fixed you with an annoyed look.

“God, don’t grimace like that. The least you could do is give me a smile.”

Your face rearranged itself into the same winning, seductively charming smile you’d had on earlier, but you could tell that your eyes weren’t engaged. He didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he didn’t seem to have noticed your fear at all, grinning back at you like the devil himself.

“That’s more like it. Now, kneel for me. Arms by your sides, hands in your lap, chin up. There you are.” His smile widened as he watched your body automatically follow his orders.

He stood up and began to pace in a slow circle around you. You felt his dark eyes piercing you, evaluating you, examining your body for any minor flaw or imperfection, even though your vision remained fixed straight ahead and your smile remained in place. The carpet dug into your knees, your stiletto heels stabbing the backs of your thighs. But still, you knelt, unmoving and obedient as he stroked your hair like you were a well-behaved pet.

It felt good, you thought, feeling a knot in your stomach form at the realization. He was incredibly handsome, with fingers as long and slender as the rest of him. You might have invited him back here on your own even if he hadn’t performed what you were growing more and more sure of was mind control. The thought made your blood run cold, but at the same time, you could still feel how red your face was under his gaze.

Your pulse quickened as he moved back around to face you, still with that same analytical stare. His eyes lingered on your chest as he bent down slightly, moving his hand to caress the side of your face. His thumb brushed your lower lip, still frozen in place from where he had ordered you to smile.

“Open your mouth,” he said, and you obeyed, with another rush of arousal immediately followed by shame. He pressed his finger against your tongue, eyebrows raising as you moaned at the touch.

He pressed harder, still keeping his hand firmly on your jaw. “You like this, don’t you? Tell me the truth, don’t hold back.” His voice was low, his tone vaguely threatening in a way you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded, mouth still agape. Your face flushed at the eagerness of your response, the embarrassment at finding pleasure in being controlled so thoroughly sinking deeper and deeper into you. You’d never felt anything like it, and the adrenaline from the initial terror of being manipulated was quickly turning into an aphrodisiac when combined with your attraction to him.

He scoffed - a short, mocking laugh. “My god,” he grinned, straightening up. “Then you can consider yourself a very, very lucky girl.” The swell of pride in your chest wasn’t at all hindered by the way his tone darkened; you couldn’t even tell if you were genuinely delighted at having impressed him or if you were just following his orders and “considering yourself lucky.” From the way your brain clouded over and the way your cunt tightened onto nothing, it might have been both. You groaned slightly at the feeling, then quickly bit down on your lip to try and suppress the sound.

If he noticed, he gave no outward expression. Instead, he reclined back onto the couch, his legs falling open slightly, and he beckoned you forward with a wave of his hand.

“Come here. You can kneel at my feet where you belong.” The way he said it was so light, so casual that you could tell he wasn’t trying to be dominant or turn you on. He just genuinely believed it. God, the ego on him. Still, you started to climb to your feet to walk over.

However, before you could even stand all the way up, he raised a hand to stop you. “Ah-ah-ah. No, none of that. You can crawl. You look ridiculous walking around in those shoes anyway.”

You collapsed back to your knees, cringing slightly at the bruises you knew you would have tomorrow as you crawled towards him.

“Good girl, so you do know your place,” he said, his tone taking on a thick layer of condescension as he patted your head. “Tell me, how often do you sleep with your clients here?” He barely even looked at you as he asked, staring off into the distance as if you were boring him.

“Never,” you replied immediately.

“Never?” He raised his eyebrows, sparing you a quick, scrutinizing glance. “Then what exactly do you do in little rooms like these?”

“Private stripteases. Lap dances. I let some touch me if they pay me enough,” you answered truthfully, realizing only after you’d spoken that he hadn’t ordered you to do so. You prayed silently that your answer was good enough. A voice in the back of your head questioned why you were so desperate for his approval, but it was quickly overcome by another wave of lust.

Despite the work you did, it had been far, far too long since you’d been fucked, especially by a man as pretty as the one seated in front of you. And as much as you hated to admit it even to yourself, whatever power he had was one that you desperately wanted him to use on you. You’d never been so scared or so turned on in your life, and your deep masochistic streak was begging for more.

The man snapped his thin fingers an inch away from your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. You blinked hard, realizing you hadn’t heard a single thing he said since you answered his last question.

“Hey,” he reprimanded sharply, punctuated with a hard slap to the side of your face. “Snap out of it. God, what’s the point of sitting around here with you if you’re not even going to listen?”

“No, wait, I’m sorry, I just—“

He cut you off with a disgusted roll of his eyes. “Don’t grovel. If you’re sorry, find a way to make it up to me.”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head, mind racing. Your eyes flicked down to his lap, then back up to his face.

“May I…well…I mean, would you like me to…” you stammered, mentally kicking yourself for how timid you sounded.

“What? Spit it out,” he snapped.

“Can I please suck your dick, please?” The request was out of your mouth before you even had time to process it.

He laughed again, the same sharp mocking laugh he’d given you earlier, fixing you with a self-satisfied smile. “Oh, you really are desperate, aren’t you? Fine. Hurry up and start. Make it good.”

Of course, you followed his orders. The ice-cold feeling that came with trying to resist felt entirely foreign to you now, and the brain fog that set over you whenever he gave a command barely had time to take hold before you obeyed.

You started slowly, gently licking the tip of his dick before gradually working your way down, letting your mouth adjust to the length, pressing your tongue against him as you gently bobbed your head.

While you were still struggling to take even half of his dick in your mouth, he roughly grabbed your hair, and without warning, shoved your head down to the base of his cock.

You choked hard, tears immediately streaming down your face, but you couldn’t get even a second of relief with the way he held you firmly in place. You took a deep breath in through your nose, but the air was immediately knocked from your lungs as he pulled your head back, then shoved you back down, thrusting forcefully into the back of your throat. You gave a stifled cry and frantically grasped at his leg, trying to get leverage to break away, but you felt him slap your hand away before pinning it against the couch cushion.

“You can take it. You want to impress me, don’t you? Stop struggling and let me fuck your throat.”

Your body went limp, all reflexes to break away and gasp for air vanishing in an instant. You could feel yourself choking, your face dripping with spit and tears, but you didn’t care. Both his hands were twisted in your hair, pulling hard, shoving your mouth onto his cock over and over again like you were a toy. You moaned desperately, half from pain and half from delirious pleasure. After what felt like ages, he ripped you away, forcing you to look into his dark eyes.

“Put some fucking effort into it,” he hissed, releasing your hair from his wrenching grasp. “Show me why I shouldn’t get rid of you right now.”

You immediately set to work, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and stroking what you couldn’t take with your right hand. You didn’t know what “getting rid of you” would entail. You didn’t doubt for a second that he could kill you. You felt briefly concerned that this didn’t turn you off in the slightest before your thoughts were pulled back to the task at hand.

You sucked hard, running your tongue against the most sensitive places you knew of, gently teasing him, just enough to hopefully make him feel as desperate as you did. Your efforts were immediately rewarded with a low moan that became an almost feral growl, feeling him thrust upward involuntarily. You doubled down, relishing in every sound you could draw from him.

He exhaled sharply when you pulled back, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock and flicking your tongue, tasting the pre-cum that dripped from him. He reached out, hand tangling in your hair again, but not quite as hard as before.

“Right there,” he sighed, holding your head in place, eyes shut tightly. “Fuck, there you go, right there, just like that, harder…oh, god, what a good fucking girl you are…” As you felt him get closer and closer, listening to the way he moaned for you, you felt yourself grow hot all over, more and more desperate to feel him let go, to cum down your throat.

You whined sharply, pushing even further, your body aching all over with unfulfilled desire. You took every single inch of him, swallowing hard around his cock, pressing your nose to his stomach, ignoring the way your throat tightened and instead focusing on how badly you wanted him, how terribly you wanted to impress him…

Your efforts paid off immediately when he forcibly pinned you where you were, grabbing your hair as he came with a rough, broken shout, his cum hitting the back of your throat.

After what felt like ages, you felt him collapse backward against the couch cushions. You pulled away, quickly swallowing the mouthful you’d accumulated, then opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show him how well you’d taken it.

He softly laughed, peering at you with a slightly unfocused look before closing his eyes again, still on cloud nine, chest rising and falling quickly as the overwhelming pleasure slowly subsided.

You leaned your head against his inner thigh, gazing up at him with a lovestruck stare. He looked so vulnerable like this, open and overwhelmed with all the sensations flooding him, a slight smile on his lips.

A man with all the power in the world, everything he could ever want only a few words away, everyone wrapped around his little finger, and yet here he was, your head between his legs, absolutely radiant in the afterglow of his orgasm. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

He really is cute, you thought, even if he is terrifying. You examined his face carefully, taking in every detail — his sharp cheekbones, his thin nose, his dark eyelashes, the soft pink of his lips, the curve of his jawline and neck. There was something almost delicate about him, hidden by how deeply intimidating he was, and you hadn’t noticed it until now. He was just…well, he was just so pretty. There was just no other word for it, even now (or maybe especially now) that his sophisticated appearance was ruffled. His hair, once perfectly combed, was messy, a few dark strands falling into his eyes. His pristine suit was wrinkled, jacket long discarded, his tie partially undone, his shirtsleeves hastily rolled up, his belt and pants unfastened, and to top it all off, his gorgeous cock resting against his stomach, still half-hard. He was a fucking vision. You could have stared at him for ages.

You gently tapped his leg to get his attention. “You know, I don’t actually think I caught your name,” you said, batting your eyelashes a bit. Your smile faded when you were met with a cold silence. He shook his head, straightening up and brushing his hair back into place.

“You don’t need to know my name,” he snapped, all the bliss from a moment ago having vanished as he pushed you aside, readjusting his clothes.

You sat back, thoroughly dejected. You had thought you’d done well. You wanted to make him feel good, and you had, but it wasn’t enough. You shouldn’t have felt like this about one of your clients, but you’d never met anyone else like him, and you wanted more.

Your heart sped up as he reached for his jacket. Gathering his things meant he would leave, and an impulse deep inside you was yelling at you to do something. This wasn’t a job anymore, you needed him. He’d gotten you in the palm of his hand, desperate and wanting, and now that you had done what he wanted, he was acting like you were invisible. You weren’t going to let things go that easily.

You pulled yourself up onto the couch, ignoring the ache in your knees and the pain on the backs of your thighs where your high heels had dug into your skin. Before he could react, you climbed onto his lap, facing him, arms around his shoulders. You’d never broken your “no kissing clients” rule, but that rule was the furthest thing from your mind as you leaned in for a kiss, pressing your lips firmly against his.

With your eyes closed tightly, you barely even realized he had shoved you away until you landed on your back against the leather of the couch. Your eyes snapped open, finding the man standing before you, with a look on his face that was a mix of anger and bewilderment and something else you couldn’t quite place. He opened his mouth as if preparing to ask you something, but he closed it again, turning away from you. You bit your lip as he paced slowly, his hand over his eyes. Had you read the situation wrong? Was he ashamed that he’d come back here with you? Did he not like being kissed? Had you come on too strong? Was it over the line?

Your heart skipped a beat as he stopped, focusing fully on you. You felt cornered, like a prey animal about to be devoured. He looked angry, vengeful, his already dark eyes completely devoid of light as he approached you.

“Strip, then bend over the couch, facing the wall. Now.”

Chills ran down your spine as you quickly undressed. You hadn’t been wearing much before, but naked, you felt completely exposed under his cold glare. You reluctantly turned away, the brain fog coming back like a tidal wave in response to your slight resistance, and you bent over, just like he’d told you to do. You could feel yourself shaking, terrified at the idea of what he would do to you, but with a hint of anticipation that kept you from falling off the edge into panic.

You closed your eyes tightly and tried to ground yourself in the brief moments of silence, waiting for whatever would come next, but they shot open as soon as you felt the sharp, unmistakable shock of his belt whipping you across the backs of your thighs at full force.

You cried out involuntarily, from shock and from the stinging, nearly unbearable pain. You hadn’t even had time to compose yourself when the second hit came, the pain intensifying as he struck the same place even harder. Your skin burned and you felt your eyes well up with tears, but you could feel the heat of arousal inside you growing, your masochistic side alight with pleasure. You wanted more.

“Fuck!” you gasped as he landed a series of quick, searing lashes across your thighs and ass. Your nails dug into the couch as you bit your lip, trying to stifle a scream as the metal buckle whipped into your skin. Your head spun. It stung, so badly you could barely take it, but it felt fucking incredible, endorphins and adrenaline coursing through your body, making every sensation electric as he kept going, relentlessly striking you over and over again.

You were granted a temporary reprieve when he leaned in close to your ear, running his fingernails down your back, hard enough that you knew there would be marks tomorrow.

“Don’t even think about holding back,” he hissed, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “I want everyone outside this room to hear you scream for mercy, and I want everyone to know you’re not going to get it.”

Immediately he resumed his punishment, the sound of the belt hitting you again and again echoing off the walls. Your body instinctively followed his orders and you felt yourself cry out involuntarily, a broken sound halfway between a gasp and a yell. You barely even registered it as your own voice.

Thwack.

A particularly brutal hit made you cry out, arching your back in a desperate attempt to ease the pain.

“Fuck, please…” you begged, feeling like you were on the verge of fainting.

“‘Please’ what?”

Thwack.

The ice cold feeling shot through your brain like a lightning strike. Beg for mercy. Scream for it. You desperately wanted to, but at the same time…

“Harder, fuck, please, harder!”

The words were out of your mouth before you even realized you’d spoken them. Immediately, the room fell silent. You gasped for air, still reeling from the searing pain and the frigid ache of trying to resist him.

He took hold of your hair without warning, yanking your head around to look at him.

“Repeat that,” he snapped.

“I— I want it harder,” you panted, trying to force your blurred vision to focus.

A long, tense pause.

“You like this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, god, yes.”

“Of fucking course you do.”

He grabbed you, turning you around forcefully so that you were facing him, then without warning, his hands were wrapped around your neck, so tightly that you couldn’t even take a moment to breathe in, your windpipe fully constricted.

“I bet you like this too, don’t you?” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You nodded desperately, as best you could with your neck being held firmly in place.

“Listen to me,” he growled. “You live and die by my orders. You have no other purpose but to please me, do you understand? Just look at you. I could do anything to you and you would love it. You get off on being whipped, you get off on being choked half to death…I could beat you senseless and you would cum from it.”

You moaned in ecstasy, but it came out as barely a whimper. You could feel your heartbeat in your temples, your vision going dark around the edges as his fingers dug into your neck.

“I’m going to do whatever I want to you. That’s all you’re good for. Do you understand?”

You tried to answer, but you couldn’t move. Your head was pounding, your throat feeling like it was about to be crushed. You saw stars, multicolored lights popping in and out of your vision. The darkness around the edges was rapidly expanding, bleeding further and further into your line of sight until you couldn’t see at all.

At the last possible moment, before you could feel yourself slip over the edge into unconsciousness, he let go, dropping your limp body and watching you gasp for air, coughing and retching as you struggled to breathe in after being deprived of oxygen for so long.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed, glaring down at you like you were nothing more than dust.

You lowered your head, thoroughly humiliated, pressing your forehead against your knees as you gulped in mouthful after mouthful of oxygen, mind racing. He could have killed you. He could have choked you to death without a second thought and you wouldn’t have been able to stop him, you told yourself, but still, in the deepest parts of your mind, the danger thrilled you.

You needed him to touch you, to hurt you, to ruin you. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to you, and the thought made your stomach ache with terror as much as it turned you on.

He caressed your hair in a way that would have almost seemed tender if he hadn’t just strangled you half to death. You looked up slightly, and he tilted your chin up so you were face to face. He moved your head slightly to one side, then the other, examining you carefully, and smiled with a sick satisfaction.

“You’ll have bruises on your neck for a week,” he praised with a slap to your cheek. You moaned softly at the impact, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling.

He bent down, picking you up ever so slightly to rearrange your body in the position he wanted, laying you down and spreading your legs. You could see from your position how hard he was. Your pain had turned him on as much as it had done to you.

You stared up at him as he admired his work, stroking his cock as he gazed at the bruises and welts and scratches he’d left on your skin.

“Come here,” you pleaded, your voice still raw and hoarse from being choked, spreading your legs further.

He was immediately on top of you, his thin hips pressed against yours, hands wrapped tightly around your wrists. “Don’t you dare give me orders,” he spat, but despite the venom behind it, you could tell from the way his hips rubbed against you that he was as desperate as you were. You felt his cock brush against your clit as he bit down hard on your neck, surely adding yet another bruise to the collection you’d accumulated.

You bit your lip, wanting him to just stop teasing, to hurry up and fuck your brains out, but as you were considering whether or not to try and resist his don’t give orders command, you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance. You’d known it was big, your aching throat was doing an excellent job at reminding you of that, but you still couldn’t stifle a gasp at the feeling. It was just a whole different experience like this.

The beautiful man above you gave you a look that sent chills down your spine.

“You want it,” he whispered, leaning in so close he could have kissed you.

You nodded eagerly, fixing him with a pleading gaze. You hadn’t needed the command in the slightest.

“Beg.”

“Please…” you whined, your nails digging into your palms as you clenched your hands into fists, struggling to keep still. “Please, please…”

“Not good enough. Beg harder.” You had no idea how he managed to sound thoroughly indifferent, even while he was this hard.

Your already racing heartbeat quickened. “Please, I’m begging you, fuck me, take me, ruin me, do anything you want to me, I —fuck— I need it, I need it so badly, please, I’ll do anything…”

That same sadistic, terrifying little smile crept across his face. “Anything?”

“Yes, anything, just please, god, fuck me!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, before roughly thrusting into you, as deep as he could possibly get, without giving you so much as a second to adjust.

You couldn’t even try to hold back a scream, and he had the nerve to laugh in your face as he slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Oh, careful, don’t shout like that! They’ll think I’m doing something horrible to you in here,” he grinned, punctuating his words with hard, deep strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside you. “It sounds like you’re in absolute agony. But we both know better than that, don’t we?”

He picked up the pace, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to fuck you deeper than you’d thought possible.

“You know, I really thought that you’d put up a little more of a fight,” he continued, almost nonchalant despite the grin on his face and the vicious pounding he was giving your sensitive cunt. “I thought I’d have to order you to get off on the pain, or that I’d have to bash your pretty head against the wall to get you to listen. But I got lucky, didn’t I? I just happened to come across the most disgusting, most depraved little whore in the city, so eager and willing to listen, to take whatever I give you.”

The hand that wasn’t keeping you quiet brushed against a sensitive spot on your inner thigh and you all but melted, whimpering with pleasure underneath him as he fucked you harder.

“Oh, that’s it, let me hear you moan,” he said, throwing his head back with a growl, pulling his hand away from your mouth. “You don’t care who hears, do you? I bet you like it. I bet you love knowing that all your little friends and all your clients are hearing you get your pretty cunt ruined by a complete stranger, don’t you? You like them knowing that I hit you and choked you and you still let me fuck you like this. You just love that everyone knows that you get off on me hurting you, that everyone knows you’re just a desperate slut for pain.” He punctuated the last word with a hard, backhanded slap across your face.

You nodded frantically, moaning your assent, hands grasping at his arms, holding on for dear life as he completely wrecked you. You felt him grin as he leaned in to bite your neck, his tongue darting over your sensitive skin as he did so.

Your hand wandered, finding its way to his dark hair, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingers through it, pulling ever so slightly, not wanting to risk his wrath again but unable to resist the temptation. Your eyes widened with surprise when he gasped and moaned, his teeth temporarily leaving your neck before he recovered and bit you again, much harder, this time on a sensitive spot just below your jaw that made you cry out. When he was satisfied with the mark he’d left, he broke away.

“You know what would be fun?” he teased, his tone menacing as he roughly grabbed your breast. You shook your head, unable to take your eyes off him. “I’d just love to see what it would be like if you weren’t such an easy little slut.” He paused, running his hand up your body, admiring the marks he’d left with a self-satisfied look.

“Put up a fight for me. That way, I can show you exactly how filthy whores like you deserve to be treated.” He sat up, his fingers clutching your hips so hard that you knew they’d leave even more bruises on your already aching body, never once faltering in his steady pace.

You flew into action immediately, frantically trying to push him away, trying to kick hard enough to get him off of you, despite the fact that your body was still aching for more. He laughed, a quick cruel sound, almost surprised by how readily you threw yourself into the role of his struggling victim, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down above your head without missing a beat, leaving you even more helpless than you already were.

You moaned, feeling the way his dick throbbed inside you when you struggled harder, trying in vain to remove yourself from his grasp. Fucking sadist. You thrashed harder, your body still reflexively following his orders, but to no avail; he had you completely pinned in place.

Almost without realizing you were doing so, you jerked your head upward, biting the exposed skin between his neck and shoulder and digging your teeth in hard, barely even noticing how fiercely you had latched onto him until you tasted blood.

“Fuck!” he shouted, letting go of your wrists, hands immediately moving to grab your shoulders. You let go with a sharp inhale the moment you realized what you’d done, horrified at your own actions. He roughly shoved you down, forcing your mouth away, still fucking you harder than you thought possible.

“God, I should fucking kill you for that, I really, really should,” he growled. He turned his head slightly to look at the bite you’d left, scowling when he saw the blood beginning to seep into the collar of his shirt. He let go of one of your shoulders to grab your chin, forcing you to stare at the damage you’d caused.

“Look at what you did,” he spat through gritted teeth, with a wild, almost manic look in his eyes. “You think you have the right to do that? The right to defile me like that after I’ve taken such good care of you? Answer me.”

You bit your tongue, wanting to point out that ‘taking good care of you’ had involved beating you black and blue with a belt, choking you half to death with his dick, and then strangling you until you were nearly unconscious. Sure, you’d enjoyed all of it, but still.

“Answer me,” he repeated, harsher this time. “Or I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

“You told me to fight back!” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, pettiness entering your voice despite the murderous look in his eyes that made it very clear he had been expecting you to beg for forgiveness.

He stopped moving completely. He was still all the way inside you, and you could barely stop yourself from grinding your hips against him to try and get yourself off, but you didn’t dare move. The hand that had been gripping your jaw released, moving upward to pat your cheek gently.

“I did tell you to fight back, didn’t I?” He was mocking you, his tone sickly sweet and condescending, like you were a particularly petulant child that he was trying to discipline. Against your better judgment, or maybe just to see what he’d do about it, you nodded.

Before you could even realize what was happening, you were in terrible pain, a pain that knocked the air out of your lungs, your eyes immediately streaming with tears from the impact.

It took you a moment to process that he had just punched you in the face as hard as he possibly could.

You instinctively doubled over, curling into a ball, body and mind reeling from the blow. Your ears were ringing, your vision clouded over. It felt like your brain had been shaken vigorously inside your skull, nausea welling up inside you at the sensation, all of it so severe you were afraid you might faint.

In your dazed state, you could barely absorb what he was saying to you, only catching snippets here and there: “...didn’t fucking tell you to ruin my shirt…going to show you…disgusting girls like you…”

You felt something being wrapped around your wrists as he manhandled you so that your arms were above your head. He’d bound you up with his tie, you realized, feeling the delicate silk against your aching skin. You opened your eyes as you felt his hands on your ankles, roughly pulling you so that you were lying with your legs spread for him. There was, you observed as your vision refocused, a decent bit of blood on the collar and shoulder of his shirt, a stain that you were positive would never come out. What a shame. Probably a designer shirt, too. Must have been expensive.

You were shocked back into reality by him throwing your legs over his shoulders, bending you in half, once again filling your cunt with a hard thrust. Despite the pain still throbbing behind your eyes, which was slowly receding, you were still so, so desperate for him. You’d been close when he’d stopped, and in your hypersensitive state, you could feel your pleasure building rapidly, and before long you were writhing in his arms.

“Please, don’t stop, please,” you begged, barely even processing the words that were coming out of your own mouth. “I’m so close, I need it, please, please, I need to cum, don’t stop…”

“No,” he snapped, giving you a furious glare. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You don’t get to cum. I wouldn’t have let you cum even before you bit me like a rabid animal. What makes you think you deserve it now?” His last word broke off with an involuntary groan, his pace growing erratic in a way that told you he was close to a second orgasm. He inhaled sharply, collecting himself before doubling down. “Don’t cum. No matter how close you get, hold it. Do you hear me? Do. Not. Cum.”

Despite his orders, you felt your muscles begin to tighten, your pleasure mounting in a way that normally would have sent you over the edge, but nothing happened. You physically couldn’t cum. The feeling just kept building and building, far past what you thought was your breaking point, never stopping, overwhelming you to near-madness and never giving you a moment’s relief, and you bit your lip to stifle a scream.

“Oh, don’t try to act all pitiful now,” he growled, punctuating it with a hard slap to your already oversensitive clit that made you cry out. “You know damn well that you earned this. And if you ever try to bite me like that again, I’ll make this permanent, do you hear me?”

Your eyes flew open, widening in terror. He couldn’t do that. Could he?

The look on his face told you that he absolutely could.

“Oh, it’d wear off eventually,” he purred, leaning in closer as if he were about to kiss you, his fingers just barely teasing your clit, his delicate touch unbearable in your hypersensitive state. “But I could tell you not to cum, over and over and over again, and you’d have no choice not to obey. I could keep you this close for days, weeks, months, maybe years if I wanted to, and drag you around with me like a needy little pet. I could order you to follow me around, to never leave my side. I could put you on a leash. I could parade you naked all over town, let everyone see how badly you want me, even with bruises and cuts all over you.” The thought sent a painful jolt of arousal through you, your legs shaking as you tried desperately to keep yourself from moaning at the idea. He grinned at you, making it very, very clear that you were doing a terrible job at hiding it.

“Oh, of course that turns you on. Fucking depraved, aren’t you? Are you like this for everyone you meet, or do you just want me that badly?”

You couldn’t form a concrete thought, let alone focus hard enough to give him an answer, but you knew his monstrous ego would love it if you could. You just wanted him that badly.

His hand wrapped around your neck, not quite enough to choke you but hard enough so that you felt the marks from when he had. “God, who would have thought that this would be so fun? Beating and fucking a pathetic little thing like you, I barely had to order you to do a thing,” he teased, panting as he fucked you faster. “I’m going to cum inside you, and you’re going to like it. Beg for it. Do it. Now.”

“Please,” You gasped for air, voice coming out as a choked whisper. You were in agony, every inch of your body burning with pain and anticipation and need for an orgasm that kept building and just wouldn’t happen. Burning hot tears were streaming down your face; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to. “Please, do it, cum inside me, I don’t care what happens, I need it, just…”

Your pleading broke off into a desperate wail as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. Even the gentle motion, combined with every other sensation you were feeling, was absolute torture, too much for you to bear. He grinned as you pulled away, trying to escape any more stimulation.

“Oh, god, you look so damned pathetic…oh, god, fine, do it, cum for me, I want to see you break, just do it now--” His voice cracked, his hands desperately clutching at your hair as he came inside you with a desperate moan, feeling you tighten around him, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your body went completely rigid at his command and you came hard, the feeling so intense that it felt like your skin was burning all over. You were vaguely aware that you were thanking him, over and over, unable to control the words coming out of your mouth. He silenced you with a forceful kiss, the first one he’d given you all night, and you melted into his touch, thoroughly overwhelmed.

You felt his hips twitch, still riding out the last of his orgasm as you deliriously wrapped yourself around him, clinging on for dear life, moaning with ecstasy.

Finally, he broke away from the kiss, and your body fell limp, overstimulated past your breaking point, so much so that you vaguely wondered how you were still conscious. Your legs dropped from where he had propped them on his shoulders and you lay there, trembling like a leaf, feeling the warmth of his cum inside you.

When you finally collected yourself enough to see straight, you worked your wrists out of the now-loose binding of his tie, then raised your head to look at the man still lying on top of you. His head had dropped onto your chest, his eyes closed. He looked so still and gentle that you wondered if he was asleep.

You reached down, stroking his hair gently with shaking hands, remembering how much he’d liked it before. You wanted to have this little moment of vulnerability with him before he went all cold and ruthless again. He sighed, pressing himself further into your bare chest and wrapping his arms around you. You couldn’t hold back a smile as pride swelled inside you. You felt like you’d tamed some kind of monster, and really, you thought to yourself, you had. You could practically feel the bliss radiating off of him along with the warmth of his skin against yours.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling as you gathered yourself. You were sore all over. Your muscles burned from how tight they’d been for so long, your throat ached when you swallowed, and you still had a pounding headache from the punch to your face and the way he’d choked you. Your body had already begun to bruise, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“It’s Kilgrave.”

You looked up, vision still slightly clouded with pleasure. “Hmm?” His face was turned away, expression hidden.

“My name. Kilgrave.”

You grinned harder. You’d won.

“It’s pretty,” you giggled, giving his hair a playful ruffle.

He quickly smacked your hand away, sitting up and pulling out of you with a scoff. Ah. There he was.

“Shut up. Don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

“You know what,” he snapped, reaching for his jacket. “Don’t play innocent now, especially not when you look like that.”

You glanced down at your body. He had absolutely wrecked you, but your smile never faded as you looked back at him.

He rolled his eyes, but there was no venom behind it, or at least none that you could detect. “Filthy little thing,” he muttered, re-buttoning his shirt.

You sat up, stretching your sore muscles as he composed himself quickly. You were amazed at how he could go from looking absolutely delirious with pleasure one moment to looking like this the next, all put together and polished as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion.

“And where are you off to?” you said, glancing around the room, trying to find where he had tossed your clothes after you’d taken them off.

“You don’t need to know that.” He walked quickly towards the door, but paused as he realized that you were still looking at him. He sighed with frustration, but still turned around to look back at you.

“I’ll be back next week, if I decide you’re good enough for me to use again. In the meantime, don’t even think about opening your legs for anyone else, do you understand? I don’t want you catching anything and giving it to me.” His tone was bitter, but you could still sense something almost fond behind his words. “Now, once I leave, you’ll wait five minutes, then go out there and put on the best show of your life for all those sad desperate men out there, with my cum dripping down your thighs. Understand?”

Ah, you realized. Not fondness. Possessiveness. Even better. You nodded, barely managing to suppress another proud grin. He gave you what you assumed was supposed to be a contemptful look before turning again to leave, but he might as well have given you a kiss on the forehead with how good it made you feel.

“Bye, Kilgrave,” you called as he left, giving him a playful wave.

He looked back. He didn’t answer, but the facade slipped for just a moment as he blew you a quick kiss, and then he was gone, grinning like a man who had all the power in the world as he closed the door behind him.

A/N: this is the first part of a series! if there's enough interest, i'll post the next parts :) Like, rb, and/or follow if you enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading!

#jessica jones #kilgrave x reader #kilgrave #kilgrave x reader smut #kilgrave smut #smut #minors dni #my fic

261 notes · View notes

goddessxeffect · 10 months

Text

The problem is but a misidentification

experience/experiencing = observing ego = a human character in a physical (limited) world body-mind = brain The Mind = Consciousness/ Awareness

You are (already) Consciousness / Awareness observing being a human being - a character, which we now call 'Ally' - in a physical (limited) world.

Nothings that happens seemingly 'outside' of Ally could ever tarnish Consciousness, harm it or be greater than it because it is all unreal as in not independent of it's source: Consciousness. An illusion really, created by the Mind as formed consciousness (labels, things) for it to experience itself in a limited way. It is a game. A cruel one if you don't know the rules. The real you is playing "Ally" in a game she refers to as 'her life'. Or you defined as yours if you have not woken up already.

Consciousness is not a part of the brain nor seperate from the outside world. See, everything Ally's eyes see and all that is happening in her body's mind is actually all inside the Mind. You just didn't know how vast the Mind actually is.

In the end you don't have to do anything, all you (as Consciousness) can naturally do is being conscious of formed Consciousness, which you are in every moment already.

So don't make detaching from the ego a work. You are acting as/identifying as Ally trying to get rid of herself. There is nothing real to detach from! You never were Ally to begin with, you just misidentified as her (were conscious of being the human being "Ally"). You cannot go down on the limited level, identify with one of those characters and expect to change Ally's POV.

Her Point-of-View: she is a real human being, independent from things and is living in a real world. She will always be limited (conditioned) that way as she is just a form of consciousness made to be that way, a concept through which Consciousness can express itself. Like water: it can be labeled as wave, lake, ocean, river etc. but it will always be just water, expressing in different forms.

Now, the only thing you can 'do' is be conscious of being pure Consciousness or Awareness and that will right all the wrongs and show you what's real and what has been an illusion all along.

"You can experience pain in your life but you don’t have to ‘suffer’ the pain.” - Anon I mus

#consciousness #law of assumption #neville goddard #non dualism #non duality #non-dualism #non-duality #law of consciousness #goddessawakening

434 notes · View notes

celestial-depths · 3 months

Text

Poor Things and Born Sexy Yesterday

(spoilers for Poor Things)

I stumbled on a discussion on whether Bella Baxter from the movie Poor Things (2023) is a representation of the Born Sexy Yesterday trope coined by video essayist Pop Culture Detective, who defines it as a mostly fantasy and sci-fi adjacent trope of a regular human man falling in love with a beautiful, otherworldly woman who, through some plot quirk or another, has no knowledge of social norms and no sexual or romantic past. Even though he is brutally average, he is able to win her love simply because he is the first (human) man she connects with and thus everything that's basic about him is impressive to her. Some examples of the trope given by Pop Culture Detective in his video essay are Leeloo from Fifth Element (the physically grown yet mentally child-like alien creature who falls in love with a taxi driver in a wifebeater) and Madison from Splash (a clothes-aversive mermaid who thinks that Tom Hanks is the most enchanting man in the world). I love Pop Culture Detective's work, and the Born Sexy Yesterday video essay was a cultural reset in my personal history. I saw the video when it premiered six years ago, but it has never fully left my mind, so of course I immediately thought of it when I saw Poor Things a couple of weeks ago. The movie certainly touches on the same themes that the Born Sexy Yesterday is made of. However, I think that the movie is an intentional subversion and a satire of the trope rather than a sincere execution of it.

The main character of the movie Bella Baxter starts out as a grotesquely literal version of the trope, as she is literally a newborn in the shape of a conventionally attractive woman who is being actively shielded from the influence of the outside world. She has the brain of a baby salvaged from the fresh corpse of a deceased pregnant woman, planted inside the skull of the reanimated body of the aforementioned woman as an experiment done by the unorthodox doctor Godwin Baxter. He keeps her locked inside his house and controls every aspect of her life, so when he invites the young doctor Max McCandles to join his research, McCandles is served what is essentially the perfect Born Sexy Yesterday experience: an exclusive access to a beautiful and naive young woman who is in a prime position of being groomed into whatever her keepers wish her to become.

Or so they would think.

A sincere Born Sexy Yesterday would be fully fascinated by this power dynamic and probably leave her here to be romanced by McCandles for the rest of the film. The audience would be expected to assume McCandles's perspective and indulge in the fantasy of falling in love with the untainted woman who has neither the life experience nor the critical thinking skills needed to question him.

But, fortunately, the movie doesn't remain here. After the first act, the movie switches its point of view from McCandles to Bella and starts putting her experiences to the forefront. She starts developing interests that absolutely do not align with the wants and needs of the men around her, and she begins to learn things that clash with the essence of the Born Sexy Yesterday trope. Soon, she has grown into a headstrong, independent, sexually experienced, intellectually curious woman who had zero interest in entertaining the whims of men and who intends to live fully for herself and herself alone: an absolute antithesis of the clueless and subservient blank slate the trope would require her to be. My reading of the film is that it's an intentional satire and an autopsy of the BSY trope and the gender politics that gave birth to it. It criticizes the men who entertain fantasies like it by making them look like absolute losers, urging us to ponder on what the hell is wrong with these creeps who see nothing wrong with drooling over a woman who is mentally a toddler instead of their intellectual equal.

The movie also reads as a critique of how women are socialized into a patriarchy. Godwin treats Bella just like a possession of his. Her body and her life are completely under his control from the moment she is "born" (another act in which neither Bella nor the woman she was born from had any say in), which isn't dissimilar to how a lot of fathers view their daughters. He wishes to keep her under constant supervision until the end of her life, until she protests and gets him to change his mind. When he asks McCandles to marry her, the two men treat the proposed marriage as a contract between the two of them rather than as a contract between McCandles and Bella herself. Again, this isn't too different to what marriage between men and women has meant throughout history.

McCandles is romantically interested in Bella even though he is fully aware of the fact that she is mentally a child. He seems to be looking forward to starting a sexual relationship with her after they are wed, as if the seal of marriage would make the intellectual disparity between them any less iffy. This bears resemblance to the way men in the real world prey on young girls with little to no sexual experience and whose brains are not fully developed because they're easier to control than grown women. I don't think that McCandles's hypocrisy is lost on the film. He agrees to marry Bella almost in the same breath as expressing his desire to keep her safe from other men, as if his desire to bed a person who is intellectually at the level of a five-year-old was any better than theirs.

When Bella chooses to leave Godwin's house to explore the world, the two men immediately replace her with a new experiment, showing that they were never truly interested in her as a person. They wanted the eternal baby, the thing that they can cage and control, and not the person who can think and learn and disagree with them. This exemplifies how disposable women are when they no longer serve their limited purpose in a patriarchy, and how replaceable people are when they are primarily viewed as bodies to be used. (Sidenote: I do think that Godwin and McCandles eventually learn to appreciate Bella for the person she is and that they both grow to be better people by the end of the film, but I still attest that these two are total creeps at least by this point of the movie.)

And then there's the supreme loser of the movie: the sleazy lawyer Wedderburn, who slithers into Bella's life and convinces her to run away with him. He is the darkest example of the kind of person who is drawn to inexperienced women like the ones represented in BSY movies - a predator who finds pleasure in the prospect of getting to corrupt and consume an innocent. He intends to take advantage of Bella and abandon her once he's gotten his fill only to find himself choking on his prey, who turns out not to be the malleable, naive creature he thought her to be.

This is the point where I think the movie goes from simply critiquing the BSY trope and everything it represents to successfully subverting it. The characters who embody the BSY trope don't really evolve. The movies they appear in are not really interested in their inner worlds and individual experiences beyond whatever serves the interests of the male protagonists. These characters are projections of male fantasies, so there really isn't a way for them to exist without centering men. This is not the case with Bella, who quickly grows into her own woman who is only tangentially interested in the men around her.

The bright side of Bella's condition is that she isn't just unaware of the ways of the world, but that she's also unaffected by the years of patriarchal conditioning that most normal women are burdened with. She literally has no shame, no internalized misogyny, no history of crushing blows to her sense of self-worth, and no looming knowledge of societal norms society. She has skipped the part in life where she is constantly bombarded with demands to make herself smaller and more palatable, to hate herself, to think of her body and the way it finds pleasure as something disgusting and abnormal, to treat other women as competition, and to think of herself as so much less important than men that she must pursue their validation beyond all else. Because of this blessed defect, she is free in a very rare way.

Wedderburn absolutely cannot handle that. When Bella first gets to know him, he paints a flattering picture of himself as a proud social deviant who gleefully eschews the rules of polite society. However, when faced with the actually deviant Bella, who flatly refuses to obey and center him, Wedderburn is revealed to be a phony. He is not a genuine libertine. He does not want to live in a truly free world with a free spirit like Bella, because he is a pathetic, insecure little man who only likes women in scenarios where the power balance is stacked against them. In my opinion, this is a direct shot fired at the BSY trope and its average enjoyers: if your ideal woman is someone who is many steps behind you in terms of mental capacity and experience, you are quite pitiful and would not stand a chance in an equal playing field.

It's hilarious how Wedderburn loses his mind when Bella starts exhibiting the kind of behavior he himself has proudly displayed earlier in the film: having multiple sexual partners, keeping sex and feelings separate, not falling in love with him or treating him like he's special, dropping him once she's had enough of him, and generally living life in an unconventional way. Again, the movie is pointing out the hypocrisy in men who fetishize inexperienced women while bragging about their own sexual conquests.

The part in the movie where Bella becomes a sex worker delivers the final blow to whatever is left of the BSY trope in her story, because the trope relies on sexual exclusivity and the fetishization of virginity. By having many partners and gaining lots of sexual experience out of her own free will, Bella stops fitting the ideal of the untouched woman who can be deflowered and exclusively possessed by the male protagonist. Also, through the conversations between Bella and the other sex workers, the movie finds another way to address the politics behind certain men's sexual fantasies of women - such as pointing out that some men enjoy sex with women more the less the women themselves enjoy it. It's a stray observation that the movie doesn't get deep into, but it has its place in the tapestry of the general theme of what desire reveals about people.

Finally, there's Alfie, who gives Bella (and us) an idea of the kind of life Bella's "mother" lived - as well as the kind of life Bella herself might be living had she grown up the normal way. It seems hellish. She'd be living under the tyranny of her awful husband, under a constant threat of violence, under absolute bodily control. Alfie wants to impregnate her against her will and to mutilate her genitals to deprive her of pleasure, and there's nothing that she could do about it because he is her husband and thus legally allowed to lord over her. She sees a terrifying glimpse of the role even privileged women like her have in this world: objects who exist solely for the pleasure of the men who own them. I would venture to say that the same description lies in the underbelly of the BSY trope.

I am happy that the movie doesn't take its sweet time to revel in the horror of this part of the story like so many other movies that address the oppression of women do. Instead, Bella stays with Alfie just enough time to say a hard and a well-informed no to his bullshit before getting on her merry way.

I think Poor Things is such a great example of taking a trope and exploring its implications in a way that goes beyond just pointing it out or parodying it by simply repeating it.

#poor things #yorgos lanthimos #bella baxter #emma stone #born sexy yesterday #pop culture #tropes #feminism #gender politics #movies #cinema #film #film studies

148 notes · View notes

quinloki · 11 months

Text

Young Lady

fem reader x Rayleigh

One-shot - 2,054 words

CW: Dubious consent, reader is an assassin, mentions of payment for murder, over-stimulation, forced orgasms, anal fingering, creampie, 18+ only

-:- Table of Consent -:-

Mind the CW warnings on this one loves ♥

You came hard.

All the muscles in your body tensed and you lost control of your limbs. Your fingers and toes bent independent of each other as your brain nearly short circuited from the intense pleasure. Spots scattered across your vision as pleasure dribbled from your mouth and your thighs.

You were going to die this way, you were almost certain of it, and yet the needy shuddering gasps pulling air into your exhausted lungs were begging for more. You’d lost the fight long before now, and you were already losing your mind.

A week ago you had taken on a job, your final job if it went well. You had enough saved up to go along with the pay for this job that you could retire afterward. That had always been the plan.

Just enough murder to never have to do anything else ever again. You didn’t like it. Didn’t like that you were good at it. Didn’t like that the world was messed up enough that you could get paid for it, and that nothing else paid quite as well.

If you had known who your target really was, you never would’ve taken the job in the first place. You had no way to know if the contact had been duped as well, or if you were just being disposed of.

You weren’t ever going to know at this rate.

You roll onto your stomach and try to crawl away, even just an inch, just to be outside of that strong, incessant, endless grip. If only you had a minute, just one, to catch your breath and regain your senses, you’d run. No pay, no revenge, no anything - you’d make what you already had saved away work, someway, somehow.

A firm grip on your ankle causes you to freeze.

“My sweet little guest, you can’t leave yet.” The low voice sinks into your core as his hands practically caress your legs. Calloused, leathery hands that had years of work etched into them, years of piracy. They were immovably gentle, and the pleasure they tickled into your skin as they moved toward your ass was some kind of terrible dark magic.

Strong hands gripped the meat of your ass cheeks, kneading them and ripping pleasure-filled gasps from your mouth.

“N-no… no more, please…” You whimper. You can’t even look over your shoulder at the old man that was manipulating your body like he was your maker. If you met those eyes again you’d lose your mind.

“You’re at least half my age, young lady, and in such an active profession. Certainly you can go a few more rounds.”

You shake your head nearly crying. “I c-can’t, I can’t - please!”

You feel him move between your legs, his long body and hot skin pressing against you before dry, tender lips kissed your back.

“You came to me.” He says, in a deadly calm tone of voice. “To claim what little was left of my life.” He repeats words from the beginning of your evening, when he had first caught you. He’d snatched your wrist out of the air so easily you had known immediately that you were exceptionally out-classed.

This was no old, escaped slave you had been sent to end, it was a man of pure skill. When his name had left his lips your soul had nearly left your body.

“You gave yourself to me. Are you rescinding that offer, young lady?” He questions, his thick, steel-hard cock pressing against your ass, as if to punctuate his point.

You whimper, but after a moment you shake your head, choking back the frustrated and exhausted sob at the edge of your throat. “N-no. I… have no right to- to argue ah-against whatever you d-do to me.”

“Good. Now, don’t move, little assassin. I’m going to give that tight swollen cunt of yours a break.” He says before he spreads your ass open and spits on it.

The cool saliva makes you flinch, but you keep from moving otherwise. You hear him sloppily licking his own fingers before pressing it against the tight ring.

“Relax, I haven’t made anything hurt yet. I don’t plan to start now.” He purrs as his finger pushes into your ass slowly. There’s a slight burn at the stretch, but he pushes in gently and easily.

It goes from stinging a little to just feeling weird. The weirdness doesn’t last long, however and a grunted gasp leaves you as pleasure shoots through you in a new way.

“There it is.” He chuckles, punctuating his point by hitting the spot again, and causing you to squirm and gasp. “You are delightfully sensitive, young lady. Makes me want to drown you in pleasure until you’re begging me to save you.”

His finger pulls back enough to allow him to push a second finger in. There was a momentary sting again, as your anus stretches a little more. The two thick fingers twist and scissor and turn inside of you, brushing against, and often pressing against, strangely pleasurable areas, making your breath catch and shuddering through your bones.

“C-cum… I’m … gonna, don’t want to… please!” You’re grasping at the sheets and trying not to pull yourself away. You tried to get away from him earlier and he made you cum three times in a row and you nearly passed out.

The Dark King’s skills went far beyond whatever he had done as the first-mate to the Pirate King.

“I like it when you cum.” He purrs, looking over you as his fingers work deeper into your ass. “Even more so when you struggle so much to try and avoid it, little assassin.”

“Gonna die!” You gasp, your body already shuddering against the building orgasm. They were starting to become painful, the muscles of your body protesting against the exertion.

“You haven’t cum nearly enough to be worried about that!” He laughs, as he pulls his fingers out. “But I don’t want you cumming on my fingers anymore.”

His hands clamp onto your arms as he presses you into the mattress before the head of his cock pushes against your ass.

“No,” you whimper. He’s too big. You aren’t sure you could take him in your pussy, never mind in your previously untouched ass.

There’s pressure as he pushes against you, but it eases up before it starts to hurt. He shifts, his knees pushing your legs wide, and you feel him rubbing against your sopping wet slit. You’ve cum so many times you wouldn’t be surprised if you were pruny from being so wet for so long.

“By the seas, you’re nearly gushing.” He says in amusement, as though he hadn’t just spent the last two hours becoming intimately familiar with every inch of you.

You feel him lining up with your entrance, before he leans low and whispers in your ear. “This might hurt, young lady.”

In a swift motion he pushes all the way into you. You hadn’t even had time to be nervous about his warning before you were filled impossibly full. You were no stranger to sex, pleasure was a perk of life, and you weren’t shy about it, but all the people you’d shared a bed with before now were all suddenly terribly unsatisfactory.

The stretch was sweet and tinged with pain but there was no blood, no sense of being ripped. He stayed still, buried to his hips inside you. You weren’t sure if he was twitching inside you, or if you were twitching against him, but the fluttering sensation was already causing your legs to twitch and your toes to curl.

The first few movements were slow, calculated, and methodical. You couldn’t hide your twitches and gasps even if it had meant death. It had been the same when the evening had first begun - when he’d plucked the first orgasm from you without even touching you. You were laid bare for this man, and in far more ways than just your lack of clothes.

His grip on your arms tightens, and your joints groan as he pulls you up off the mattress a little. There’s no purchase for you as your legs are spread too wide and your arms are in Rayleigh’s hands. He pushes into you slowly a few times before setting a swift rhythm. You’re being bounced off his hips and you can feel the impact of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your ass.

It feels like how it did when he was kneading your ass, the sensation sending pleasure through you front and back and you can’t squirm, twist or adjust to get away from it. Despite the swift pace he’s still sending jolts of pleasure through your core with every smack of skin against skin. The pleasure’s building in your core so fast, that you can’t even barely whimper for him to stop before the tension snaps and you’re shuddering against him.

Unlike before he doesn’t stop, his pace seeming to be unbothered as pleasure and exhaustion almost cause you to ragdoll in his arms. If anything, the lack of tension in your body pushes him deeper with each smack, whimpered pleas falling from your lips as you’re gasping for air.

You can feel a second – twelfth? – orgasm start to build, but just before you seem ready to drown in it, he pulls out and lets you drop into the mattress. You don’t stay there long before he pulls one of your legs up to his chest, pulling you onto your side. He straddles your other leg as he pushes back inside of you.

With your leg braced against his chest, he kisses along your ankle and calf as he slowly moves inside you. A few minutes of the softer pace and the gentle kisses against your skin give you a chance to catch your breath again. When the focus comes back into your eyes you see him smile.

The smile causes your heart to skip a beat – it’s the first time since the night began, that he looked handsome in your eyes. At first he was a terrifying demon of a man, so far beyond your own skills that you were certain you were looking death in the eyes. After that he seemed a perverted, lonely old creep, desperate for a younger piece of ass.

But it was neither desperation nor need that had caused him to pump pleasure into your body. It was simply a repayment – you had meant to kill him, even if you could have never hoped to do so, and so he took from you what he wanted. He had no interest in taking your life, even if he had a right, pragmatically speaking, but if he had let you go without a cost you wouldn’t have been satisfied.

No, more truthfully, you would’ve come back at some point for personal revenge. To be let off without consequence would have been insulting.

“Seems we’re just about there.” Rayleigh muses. He keeps your leg tight to his chest, using his other hand to tease your clit as he begins to thrust into you again.

The skilled bastard hadn’t touched your clit the whole evening and you scream in surprise and pleasure as his fingers move roughly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your hands grip his wrist, but you cannot hope to move his hand away as the pleasure nearly breaks you.

You’re sobbing and begging for him to stop, but all he does is push into you faster. When the orgasm crashes into you, your entire body seems to shatter. The air rushes from your lungs as taut, but exhausted muscles, twitch and spasm in his immovable grasp. Spots explode in your vision, and you nearly black out from the intense rush that overwhelms you.

You barely hear the grunt of pleasure fall from the old man’s lips, but you can feel the wet slick fill you up and coat your thigh even before he’s pulled out.

Your body sinks into the mattress. You’re more liquid than bones after so many orgasms, and you couldn’t hope to move, protest, or even beg at this point. Drenched in sweat and cum, you don’t hear what he says to you as your consciousness finally gives out.

You were pretty sure it was “Rest well.”

#silvers rayleigh #rayleigh x reader #reader insert #one piece fanfiction #one shot

332 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 7 months

Text

Seven Minutes (S.R.) - pt.2

Type: TWO-SHOT, independent, canon-ish, part 1 here

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 10 900 cause I have no chill

Summary:

You weren't obliged to go to that party, but you went anyway. You even had fun.

Until you and Steve were left to pick up the pieces after your seven minutes in a closet together, so graceful having been pushed into it by Tony's stupid idea, Loki's magic and a game of chance where there might be more losers than winners.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, (unprotected sex, fingering, glimpses of size kink and praise kink, soft hints of D/s, mirrors, possessiveness;cumplay, overstimulation and edging if you squint really hard), alcohol, a drop of angst, language (a lot), STEVE (he is a warning in this one)

A/N: written for @jtargaryen18 and her Halloween challenge. Prompt in the final notes. I toyed with it so much that it might have been cheating 😅 dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

Part 2: Seven Minutes in Heaven

“Secrets are the prisons we make for ourselves.”

― Joe Hill, Locke & Key, Vol. 6: Alpha & Omega

The party had died down; or as Tony said, only the fittest had survived.

Sam, Bucky and Rhodey had challenged Natasha, Maria and Helen to a lazy game of beer pong. Bruce was still asleep. Thor and Vision started some sort of a special game of pool, wordlessly watched by Wanda and Steve, while Thor and Loki argued in hushed voices about what only gods knew – literally. Tony got some genius idea despite – or thanks to – the killer levels of alcohol in his blood and sneaked off into the corner of the room, working with holograms of graphs and other simulations graciously supervised by Pepper.

Needless to say, the spacious room still looked every bit a warzone in an autumn aesthetic. And yet. It still looked better than your heart; a wasteland.

You avoided Steve ever since you stumbled out of the stupid closet, from which he oh-so-kindly helped you, supporting your weight before you could faceplant on the floor – and he graced you with a sweet even if a little shaky smile as he did so. God, you hated him for it. You hated you could still feel the heat of his skin, taste his breath on yours, an echo of the reality of the closet; what more, the memory of his skin on your bare body, lips mapping every inch of you, teasing touches and thick fingers, dark gaze as he made you his in every way possible… this memory of your fantasy was somehow fading, as if it wasn’t even yours.

And it wasn’t; because Steve himself was never yours to have. Fantasies like these were futile.

The loneliness in your chest despite being surrounded by friends hit you harder than ever; and you should have known better. You could blame Loki and Tony and Steve, even yourself for your past shortcomings, but the trigger for your mood was all on you. You shouldn’t have been drinking. You knew you often toed the thin line between a cheery drunk and a miserable drunk. Tonight, it seemed you very much tripped and stepped over the line by a mile.

You nursed a bowl of candy, staring at the repetitive sequence of scary images projected on the wall. The only person you’d be willing to join was Tony; but the reasonable thing to do would be retreat to your room and sleep it off. You even felt sleepy; except your brain was wide awake at the same time. Body exhausted, brain hazy but alert, eyes burning with tears born not only from your loneliness, but also from being awake for too long. You were never going to another of Tony’s stupid parties ever again. You’d promise to never drink again, but your job sometimes required dumbing your mind in a way therapy never could.

The skeletons on the wall blended into a graveyard again; the image was almost soothing. Peaceful. A pile of bones that couldn’t hurt anymore a blessing. And you really should go to sleep, because your thoughts were getting morb-

The yelp erupting from your throat was pitiful – but thankfully drowned in the hooting from the beer pong table. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you found Loki suddenly sitting next to you on the couch, the corners of his lips now twitching in amusement.

Jesus.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” you complained, your body suddenly very awake too. Jerk. “Jesus, Loki!”

“I believe you Midgardians say that if one becomes easily startled, it is because they have impure thoughts or intentions,” he hummed, but had enough decency to control his smirk a bit. Still a jerk. “What is it, søster? You appear upset.”

Anger and humiliation flared up in your achy chest since it was him of all people pointing that out. As if it wasn’t his stupid magic that created the closet in the first place, feeding your misery further. You shot him a glare.

“And you are to blame. Piss off, Loki.”

He retreated a bit, showing off his bare hands as to tell you he meant to harm, a slight pout to his lips.

“Now now. There is no need to get hostile, is it? I simply noticed you were… rather isolated and the party did not please you anymore, nor did the company. I came here as a concerned friend.”

You sighed, eyes roaming his face; he appeared genuine. He might be a god of mischief, but he had proven a friend on numerous occasions indeed. An annoying sibling, if you willed; there was a reason why he called you a sister.

“Don’t you always…” you murmured, sighing again and working hard to try and smile. “Sorry, bror, I am not in a festive mood nor in a friendly indeed. You do not indeed deserve my hostility… much.”

His eyes flashed with understanding, a smile spreading on his lips as he tilted his head, inquisitive.

“Has something happened during the seven minutes with your precious Captain?”

To protest was an instinct at this point. “He isn’t m-“

“Yes, he is, but that is not the point,” Loki interrupted you, rolling his eyes theatrically before his gaze bored into yours, the blue of his eyes almost burning. “What did you see, søster?”

It hit you like a train – the realization that should have hit you long moments ago. God, you were an idiot. Such an idiot, trusting, naïve, too good-hearted idiot, who-

You slapped Loki’s bicep hard – or tried to, your hand passing through the illusion of his body he had created, your hand only meeting the cushions. Of fucking course; he wasn’t even here. He was a trickster, after all. Case on damn fucking point-

Your face burned almost as much as the tears of anger in your eyes – anger and embarrassment. God, he hadn’t- he couldn’t have possibly--- had he seen?

“You did do something to the closet, didn’t you? I defended you when Steve suggested it, you know! Did you make up the damn illusion I saw? You fu-“

Loki’s hand, materializing as his whole body now, caught your hand when you tried to hit him again, his long fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. If you had any more energy, you’d fight his hold and send him to the floor in one of the fancy moves Natasha had taught you. But you didn’t; too weak. To stunned.

The asshole.

“I did not make up any illusion nor did I see what you saw, my little Midgardian,” Loki responded calmly, for once appearing sincere – and unless you imagined it, there was a shade of regret in his expression too.

He’d better be telling the truth about not seeing at least – but how could believe a word he said? He tricked you. Like a trickster. Gods, you needed to retake your IQ test if he had got you so easily.

“I simply offered clarity to everyone who walked into that closet… incidentally, it was only you and him,” he added.

“Clarity?” you echoed, an unamused erupting from your throat as you yanked your hand free. “I don’t think so, Loki. Whatever it is you did was a damn low blow. So do take it personal when I tell you to piss off – wherever your actual body actually is--- or one of your bodies or whatever.”

You rose to your feet, determined to leave him – and this whole cursed party – behind and sleep for a week.

He caught your hand again, stopping you; you shot him a murderous glare, gritting your teeth as you failed to keep your tears at bay, a few rolling down your cheeks – a mix of of humiliation, anger and bewilderment, because were you really crying? Christ, you were never drinking again.

Loki’s gaze softened at the pitiful sight you had to make; he gently tugged at your hand, so watching you so kindly and pleadingly that he might have as well tugged directly at your heartstrings.

Gods, why did you have such a glutton for punishment and pain? Why were you such a sucker for redemption? Why were you so weak to give people and gods the chance to apologize just so they could feel better about themselves?

You sat down with another sigh, willing to give Loki one more minute to explain himself and say sorry – but not more. You blinked in surprise when he frowned, slowly raised his free hand, his fingertips brushing the tears from your cheeks away.

“I am sorry to upset you,søster. But you should slow down in jumping to conclusions,” he said, making you already regret your decision; he wasn’t apologizing. Of course he wasn’t. Men. You wrenched your hand free again. You were out of here this very- “Ah-ah. Here it is again. I am sorry. But… what is that figurative expression you Midgardians have? Say, what do you hide in a closet, søster?”

Clothes, usually, you thought, annoyed. Clothes, unless it’s empty and you’re lucid-dreaming about enthusiastically getting railed by one of your closest friends. You had a distant feeling this was not the answer the trickster was looking for.

“Loki, I’m tired, drunk and miserable,” you said matter-of-factly. “I really don’t want to play any more of your games and I think you had done enough, so I’d appreciate if you-”

“Skeletons, søster. Secrets,” he whispered conspiratorially, a slow smirk spreading on his face. “Dark, dark secrets you do not share with anyone else, those you do not dare to share. In that closet… the darkest one concerning the person you were in there with came out.”

Your shoulders sagged, annoyance biting at your gut. Loki was saying these things as if he just revealed to you the secrets of the universe and not a well-known fact.

“Gee, thanks. I knew about that ‘secret’ already.”

Loki’s right eyebrow arched as he smiled deviously.

“Did you, now? Did you know your Captain’s best-kept secret?” he pried, eyes sparkling with the mischief worthy of the god he was, confusing you in the process.

You were too lost to his mysterious message to correct him again – that Steve was not yours. Loki knew and apparently, he knew that that was exactly part of the problem. Hell, that was the whole problem at the moment, but-

“Huh?”

Loki’s other brow arched as well at the bewildered sound you let out, his gaze measuring you from head to toe with distaste almost as if you insulted him by not praising him for his supposed brilliance.

You didn’t feel bad for it – you had no energy for that. And his ego could use a little blow.

“…you truly are exceptionally drunk if you get slow like this, my dear Lady Speedy,”he emphasized, shaking his head like a disappointed parent – or older brother. “You did not see your secret. What kind of lousy trick would that be?! You already know your secrets, they are in your head! That is why they are yours! No, no, no,” he lamented, shaking his index finger before he pointed it at you, his proud grin widening. “You, my little Midgardian søster, stepped into the Captain’s head. You saw his secret. And he saw yours. Do we understand now?”

All blood drained from your face, annoyance replaced by a mask of pure horror that seized you the moment Loki finally explained. You stared at him blankly, mind suddenly completely sober and whirling. You were fucked. You were utterly, utterly fucked, because if Steve saw your secret, he knew. He knew you wanted him; he knew how you wanted him and how much. He knew what you craved him to do to you.

“Loki, this isn’t funny,” you heard yourself say, almost soundlessly. He tilted his head, that irritating grin still present as he looked right back at you, waiting for you to process the bullshit he was trying to feed you. “This is a very, very bad joke.”

Please tell me it IS a joke, you added mentally, only to be very disappointed.

“That it would be, but it is not, for I am not joking,” he retorted, expectant.

Expectant of what? Of praise? A thank you? For putting you into this insanely vulnerable position, for basically stripping you bare and revealing—

Your mind came to a screeching halt as another realization finally slammed into you like a freight train.

“Holy shit.”

Loki straightened in his seat, his grin now almost maniacal – and so goddamn smug.

You saw Steve’s secret. You saw Steve’s fantasy. Taking you over and over in front of a mirror, all the praise, sweet nicknames and affection he showered you with in your vision – that was him. He wanted you too. These weren’t only your desires, these were his.

But that was impossible. Steve didn’t--- he wasn’t- he would have said something. He would have acted differently. You would have known. This, whatever Loki was saying, couldn’t be true, Steve would have asked you out again if he wanted to, he’d-

Except he wouldn’t. Because unlike many men, Steve understood the meaning of the word no. If you rejected his initial advance two years ago, he had no reason to try again, because he would respect your choice.

You could kiss him for that. Or smack him. It that were true.

The hope rising in your chest was a dangerous thing. Hope was the thing with feathers; it would fly you high so the fall lasted longer and the landing hurt more once it dropped you out of the sky. If you allowed yourself to hope that the absolutely wonderful gorgeous human being Steve was was still interested in you romantically…

Instinctively, you glanced the direction of the pool table, hoping to see a hint of Loki telling the truth – and worried Steve might hear your conversation due to his enhanced senses – but Steve was no longer there. Swiftly scanning the room, you found out he was no longer there at all. It seemed he was the only one having made the sane decision of going to sleep.

You gulped as your gaze focused the trickster again, still afraid to believe even for a minute this could be real.

“Loki…”

“Now. You know his and he knows yours… the question is, are you willing to act on it? Are you willing to admit what is it that you want out loud now when he already knows anyway… even if he does not, for I entrusted the power of the closet only to you so far?”

You swallowed loudly, heart hammering in your chest wild. Were you? Willing to admit it out loud? That was one insane risk to take. One you weren’t sure was worth the consequences.

“Loki, if you are lying-“

“Bleh, I am not!” the Asgardian spitted out, offended. “What could I possibly gain from that?!”

“Fun?” you suggested automatically, because that was what he was all about, wasn’t it? That was why he created the insane magical closet in the first place.

Could Steve really still like you? Like like you? Now you were back to being thirteen indeed-

“Your idea of my idea of fun is rather strange. Go talk to your Captain. Or… communicate your thoughts in whichever way you prefer.”

You felt your already hot face burn at his suggestion. As much as you’d like to do that, the thought of even confronting Steve was scary – it would be much easier to be sure you wouldn’t mess up your perfectly good friendship, a friendship you cherished. Alas, you only had Loki’s words to go on. You could imagine more reliable sources, but none of them you’d dare to approach either.

“Oh shut your face, bror. If this is another idiotic prank, if you are lying, I’m going to tell Bruce to smash you—no, I’m going smash you myself, reduce you to the size of atom. Without breaking a sweat,” you promised him as you rose to your feet and you meant it.

If you were going to find Steve now – and you were, because there was not a universe in which you would simply fall sleep after what Loki did and told you – and if you were going to mess up, if Loki was truly just toying with your heart, you’d make sure he’d suffer for it.

“So feisty,”Loki praised, eyes lit up. “The Captain will like that, I am certain.”

Oh you were sure he would; Steve liked a drive in a person. He’d like it if you were brave enough not only to find him now, but also tell him how you felt. The idea was so damn intangible even as you had thought of it thousands of times, so terrifying that you just might go to bed and stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night instead because you could not take that risk.

“Loki… this is a personal thing. And if I go and fuck up what Steve and I have-”

“You mean two years of fruitless pining-“ he interrupted you again.

“-based on your bullshit, I---”

You felt tears in your eyes again – and god, you were truly never ever drinking again, even as you felt very, very sober now – and the God’s mischievous eyes softened once more.

“I shall never repeat it again, but I grew quite fond of you, my little Midgardian. Despite what the over-righteous Captain believes, I have no intention to hurt you,” he assured you kindly.

“…I will still smite you if you’re wrong.”

His grin returned. “Looking forward to it, my Lady Speedy. And you’re welcome!”

“Don’t push it, Loki.”

As expected, your brief surge of bravery ran out by the time you stood in front of Steve’s door. Your hand shook as you raised it to knock, counting to three. Then, you simply did it – better to get it over with, right? With what you learned from Loki, awkwardness was about sneak between you and Steve anyway. At least you would know.

That wasn’t a terrifying thought as all, was it?

Steve appeared in the doorway, already in pyjama pants and a white t-shirt, looking at you as if he wasn’t sure whether he dreamed you up or not. His special nickname for you slipped from his lips, surprised and questioning.

You felt like an idiot; you probably looked like one too, your outfit in a pitiful state as well as your make-up, but here you were about to have one of the most important conversations in your life. An agent for the Avengers Initiative, supposedly one of the strongest and most capable people of the planet; yet, you felt like a teenager about to confess to your first-ever crush.

“Can I… can I come in?” you pipped up nervously, wondering whether your heart could actually jump out of your chest – and guessing that yes, it could, when Steve smiled automatically, stepping back to let you into his room.

“Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, your sweaty palms twitching to curl into fists briefly, because of course he would ask that. Beautiful, infinitely good man. Sweet and caring. Golden boy. Golden boy who wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror and watch.

You shook off the last thought as your stomach fluttered, coming to a stop in the middle of the room, trying to ignore the large inviting bed and spinning on your heels to face Steve instead.

“Yeah. No. I mean,” you stuttered, shaking your head. “I… Loki, he--- he said something.”

There was no mistaking the flash of cold steel in Steve’s eyes, the way his relaxed body straightened and stiffened, shoulders squaring at the mention of the God. He really didn’t like him, did he? After the emotional turmoil of tonight, you couldn’t say you blamed him.

“What did he say?”

“He said… you--- this is so stupid, I can’t even--- did you have, uhm, did you have a certain… vision? A dream maybe? When we were in that closet?”

Your face was set aflame at believing he had, that he had the kind of vision you assumed; a vision that would make most people blush. And Steve did blush a bit, discomfort clear in his face.

“I--- maybe,” he admitted reluctantly, earning a raised brow. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes. Did Loki…” His gaze found yours again, searching – and worried. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite decipher too, something you weren’t sure if you wanted to understand. “Did he tell you--?”

You shook your head.

“No. If you’re asking whether he told me what you dreamed about, then no.” Because he didn’t have to. I just know. If Loki wasn’t lying, that was. “But I… I had a vision as well. And Loki, he… told me what it meant. He said--- he said-“

You gulped, a dull weight in your chest as Steve observed you with silent wonder and a mixture of emotions you couldn’t hope to understand. Patience. Concern. Apprehension. Affection? Definitely confusion.

This was absurd. What were you even doing here? It was utter non-sense. Loki was just pulling your leg, that was what he did, a friend or a bror or not, he just decided to have some extra fun during Halloween and make it his personal April Fool’s Day. You were but the victim of his over-the-board prank-

You chuckled at your idiocy, shaking your head and stalking to the door.

“You know what? Forget this. This is so stupid, I can’t believe I fell for that-“

A gentle hand, the gentlest touch, stopped you in your tracks, disappearing as quick as it appeared on your wrist.

Reluctantly, you turned back to Steve again, truly loving him and hating him at the same time when his tone softened as if you hadn’t brought up Loki, his personal thorn in side, at all.

“Hey now. This, whatever it is, is clearly making you upset. Upset enough to knock on my door at three a.m.,” he noted, hand twitching towards you again – but not touching.

That was what he would have normally done – comfort you by touch. A warm hand on yours; the warmest hug. Touch was Steve’s love language for friends and no doubt lovers alike. But he didn’t. Because you had said no – you had pushed him anyway, you had pulled back in the closet. You had broken him; you had broken you two already.

Damn Loki and damn his stupid jokes and painfully unhelpful interventions. You already hurt Steve and now you were here, at three damn a.m. indeed, robbing him off his well-deserved sleep on top of everything.

God, what a farce.

“I’m sorry-“

“That’s not the point, you know the door is always open for you,” Steve interrupted you, eyes roaming your face with determination now. He was on a mission. He had noticed your body language, whatever it was trying to say. He noticed your hesitance. He read you like a book and he was going to read it through to the last chapter to get to the bottom of things. You were in trouble; there was no going back now. “What did Loki say? I saw you two earlier, he--- did he make you upset?”

Your heart seared, your lips parting on instinct.

While spoken on a normal volume, the question was a battle cry. If you said yes, Steve would release the wrath of Gods – of an angel, a guardian angel and a warrior – on Loki. It didn’t matter Loki was the god, the entity from another planet. He would tremble in front of the anger of a righteous man defending you.

“No! I mean--- no. He just…” you stumbled over your words again, shaking your head and taking a deep breath. You closed your eyes, because otherwise you’d never get it out, not with the way your throat felt so tight you could barely breathe, let alone speak the bare truth. “He said that what we saw in that closet was each other’s secret. Something we secretly want. Supposedly, I saw yours… and you… you saw mine.”

Your voice trailed off into a shy whisper, but you had no doubt Steve heard your words clear as day. The silent shock settling on the room told you as much. Hands curling into fists, nails digging into your palms, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, before you gathered enough courage to open them and look at Steve’s reaction.

But Steve wasn’t looking at you, much to your relief and frustration. He was staring over your shoulder, the smile on his lips absent, appearing just a little broken. You dug your nails further into your skin, not daring to even breathe in until Steve released a wavering breath of his own.

His voice was quiet as he spoke, so very soft and warm, a note of gentle wistfulness. “I’m not sure I can believe that, Shines.”

You nodded, licking your lips and bracing yourself. Now or never. No take-backs.

“I’m not sure either… but that depends. What do you want, Steve?”

“I…” he sighed, finally meeting your gaze, an unreadable open book. He observed you carefully for a moment as you tried to stand tall, stand your ground and pretend you didn’t feel like it was shaking under your feet. Like you wouldn’t feel like the Earth was splitting beneath you if his answer would be anything else than you were hoping for. “I want you, Shines. But I don’t see how that’s a secret.”

Fresh tears sprang from your eyes; but this time happy ones, the shock and relief and joy finding release.

You had hoped. You had prayed on your way in here. You wished upon the stars. And yet nothing prepared you for the reality of Steve saying this. You were certain your heart was about to explode any second, your pulse thundering in your head. He really said ‘you’.

A small part of you wanted to remark that if Loki was right about everything and you had indeed saw what was in Steve’s head, there were a few secretive details that Steve had failed to mention, but you kept your mouth shut, because that was not the point.

He wanted you. He truly wanted you. He still… you still had a chance. More than a chance, apparently.

“Oh,” you let out quietly and oh so wittily, probably making your IQ scores appear like a joke again, but this time, you didn’t give a damn. You smiled weakly at Steve who stared at you expectantly and resigned at once. “Good. Because I want you too.”

A single deep breath. Eyes full of wonder, soft confusion lacing his voice. Reluctant hope, as reluctant as your own had been. “But you said no.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze and smiling tightly on the floor as you wiped away the few tears.

“I--- I was still new and you were… you were this idol of all things good, intimidating and untouchable. I mean, in many ways, you still are, but I was just crushing on you so hard even if I barely just met you. The longer I knew you, the more it… changed into something much deeper than a crush, but when you asked me out back then, I just… panicked. And I wanted to take that answer back later, but I was scared it was too late. And the longer it got… the harder and more awkward it felt to ask you if you were still interested in me, if you’d want to be more than friends after all this time, especially since you dated someone else in between.”

A few beats of silence followed your confession, words hanging in the air.

“That was never a good idea,” Steve admitted lowly, causing you to look up to his now sheepish face. “I thought I was ready for someone else, but I wasn’t. My mind was still on you. And still is, which really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you or me,” he noted, lips curling up in a smile that would make your heart beat faster hadn’t it been already racing like mad. “You’re beautiful and brilliant. You could do anything you’d put your mind to and would still stay humble enough about it. You’re capable, you’re passionate, you’re kind. You make the world a better place… and you take my breath away. You always have.”

You stood frozen, momentarily stunned.

It seemed when Steve went for something, he went all the way. You knew that about him already; and still. His declaration took you by surprise. A pleasant one, much like two years ago; but this time, you knew better. You were ready. Or at least ready enough.

At three a.m. after a damn Halloween party, you were ready to accept you and him felt the same.Steve liked you. Liked you a lot more than a friend, if his words were sincere and you would never doubt they were anything less.

The world was a beautiful place and you adored Loki’s shenanigans.

“Well…” you said as you stepped closer, basking in Steve’s soft gaze set firmly on your face, hopeful and incredulous. “I think you are pretty damn brilliant, handsome and overall amazing too, so that works out well… and I guess maybe we should do something about that.”

“I guess,” he echoed, his smile slowly widening when you took another step. He reached out this time and took your hand, enveloping it in his larger one.

It was just holding hands, it should not have such an effect on you, but Christ, you could die a happy woman right there. Especially when Steve carefully lifted your joined hands, dropping a kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. When you smiled wide at the tender gesture, Steve’s gaze lit up with a familiar and yet so different spark. “You think I’m intimidating?”

A surprised chuckle erupted from your throat, the tension you hadn’t been quite aware of melting from your shoulders. You could smack him – now he was a cheeky fella, wasn’t he?

“That’s what you took from me pouring my heart out? Really, Steve? Wow. Just wow.”

He laughed as well as he erased the last distance between you so you stood chest to chest, hand moving to cradle your face instead and angle it up, his eyes full of wonder still as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. Humour and absolute delight blended into one in his expression; you imagined yours most have looked the same.

“Well, I kinda poured mine out too to make it even. But I’m just a guy, doll. My ego needs a good rub every once in a while.”

You couldn’t help it. You snickered at his choice of words. A good rub, huh?

“Just your ego?”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, his smile earning a wicked edge that had your stomach flutter; or perhaps that was just his strong arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush to his front, your palms catching against his chest. So warm. Warm and wide and real, and it was yours to touch.

“Aren’t you a cheeky little thing…” he mused.

“You know it. What you’re gonna do about it, Captain?”

His gaze roamed your face, searching for an answer to the unspoken and yet completely clear question. He found it in the challenge written in your smartass grin, his lips soon gravitating towards yours, suddenly close enough you could feel his breath on your own. His voice dropped but to a whisper.

“Depends… what would you let me do, Shines?”

Anything. Everything. All at once. Forever.

You licked your lips, painfully aware of the firmness of Steve’s body against yours, so pliant to accommodate his strength. “I’m pretty flexible.”

The corners of his lips twitched at the double entendre.

“Is that right, sweetheart? Let’s see how you like what have in mind then…”

A lot. The answer was a lot. You loved it the very second his lips touched yours at last, causing you to shudder and melt into his embrace. The kiss was even more tender than you imagined; gentle lips moulding into yours, thumb stroking over your cheekbone softer than silk. Lingering and brushing yours even as he released you to do something as mundane as breathing.

“I like it so far,” you muttered, eyes closed to absorb all the sensations enveloping you. The warmth, the masculine scent, the faint taste of mint tooth paste and Steve, the thundering heart under your palms, the hot skin as your hand slid up Steve’s throat to his nape, the soft strands of his hair as you pulled him to another kiss. “What else do you have in mind?”

He hummed against your lips, smiling, hand angling your head to kiss you deeper, parting your lips with ease, so naturally as if it was always meant to be. And perhaps it was; kissing him was two years due. The thought of a lost time had your fingers flex against the material of his t-shirt, squeezing his nape; his chest rumbled with a silent groan, arm tightening around your waist, heat pooling at your stomach.

You knew this groan. You knew the feeling of hardness building against your belly and you knew exactly what it meant; and you wanted it. You wanted it real this time and there nothing in the world that would make you resist Steve inching you walk backwards one small step after another as his mouth dominated yours, his hand moving to your hip to steer you the direction of the bed.

Or you thought so until his arm softened the impact of your back against a wall, your eyes snapping open with a gasp. Your gaze met Steve’s just as his fingers tangled in your hair, eyes roaming your face attentively, taking in every detail of your flushed face and already swollen lips. You feasted your eyes too, hand instinctively moving from his chest to his bicep, nearly whining at feeling the power humming underneath.

He could take you. He could take you in whichever way he wanted and you’d simply have to hold on and survive it, because even with your fancy moves and normally sharp brain, you were no match for his strength. But you didn’t need to be; you didn’t want to be. You were actually perfectly fine with Steve making love to you tender or fucking you against the wall all the way across the room from the no doubt comfortable bed.

“What else is there?” you heard yourself ask breathily, rewarded with Steve’s gaze darkening, his hips pressing against yours, palm sliding from your cheek to your throat, thumb caressing the soft skin.

He was trying to kill you. He was, there was no other reason to show off those large paws of his in comparison to your body, no reason to remind you he could crush you without much effort.

He petted the sensitive skin lovingly, licking his lips as another shudder ran down your spine, his middle finger inching under the shoulder strap of your dress.

“Can I?”

You only panted as he already hooked his finger under it and sent it sliding down while still being able to touch your throat, the hoarseness of his voice awaking the heat inside you having been sleeping ever since your dream encounter in the closet.

“Y-yes,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand that that consent applied to everything. Everything he wanted he was free to do. You needed him to do it.

He must have understood. He must have, because when his lips locked with yours, the heat behind the kiss was otherworldly, his body caging yours against the wall in the most toe-curling way.

It was like a switch flipped inside him, because it finally dawned to him. He had seen you fantasy; the filth he had experienced came from you and he could take full advantage of that. That previously frightening thought that Steve knew now, knew how you wanted him and how much, was apparently exactly what he needed to see; that you wanted him. All of him. No filter.

You mewled when his fingers tugged at your hair with the slightest pressure, guiding you to expose the column of your throat for his mouth to explore and nip at, his other hand squeezing your hips and following the curve of your ass appreciatively. Your already damp panties turned completely useless by now and in the very back of your mind, you realized that with Steve’s slightly enhanced senses, he could probably smell how riled up you still were from your imaginary closet experience. You could be embarrassed about that; but when his hand brushed up the back of your bare thigh over your hip under the hem of your dress, stroking over the lace of your panties at the apex of your thighs, you decided you were beyond caring.

Especially when you could feel his muscled shift with the minuscule movement of his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear, so close to where your core screamed for his touch and attention.

“So, doll…” he whispered to your skin, groaning minutely when you grabbed at his nape and pulled his mouth to ours, feeling it was way too long since you tasted them. He didn’t seem bothered at all, his fingertips brushing oh so lightly against your heat at last, a barely-there brief touch gone too fast. “I saw your dirty secret, is that right?”

Alright, he needed to stop talking and teasing you and get to work before you could spontaneously combust. Your only satisfaction was the fact that he too was far from indifferent to what was happening, his hardness pressing against your thigh.

So why wasn’t he doing something about it?

“Doll?” he hummed against your lips, expecting you to answer, clearly.

“Y-yeah? I guess?”

“Hm…”

You cried a discontent noise when his hands untangled from your hair and disappeared form under the skirt of your dress, long fingers curling around your wrist, one and then the other, soothing your disagreement with a filthy kiss.

Next thing you knew, your hands were pinned to the wall by your head, carefully, but firmly, Steve’s body pressing against the rest of you; his lips released yours just in time for you to let out a gasp as startled as pleased.

Your heart turned into one of a hummingbird when you realized your predicament fully.

Trapped against the wall by Steve’s large body towering above you, hands locked in a grip unmoveable upon you testing it. Caged. Utterly helpless. Dominated. The surge of need into your belly was so acute your brain turned into a blank screen with static noise for a moment.

Steve was playing out your fantasy. He was replaying what he must have seen. He was giving you exactly what you wanted and you were not about to protest; less so when your heart felt like giving out when his teeth grazed your pulse point, your knees bucking a bit, a silent mewl escaping you and that loveable bastard smiled with absolute glee against your skin.

“Love the sounds you’re making, doll. Love how your body responds to me.”

“You’re playing dirty,” you whined, not quite complaining, but still causing Steve to look up. The glee you had assumed was most definitely in his smirk and hungry gaze.

You swallowed loudly, gaze trailing up his bulging bicep when his hands manipulated yours above your head, one hand easily gripping both of yours.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, long fingers running over your bare arm indulgingly slow, over the swell of your breast, over your waist, until they slipped under your skirt again, following the hem of your panties to the junction of your thighs and pushed it aside at last, feeling the pool of slick in your underwear. His voice grew huskier as he spoke again. “Fuck. Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I won’t,” he promised, latching onto your mouth as his thick finger slipped into your heat at last, causing you to moan at the blissful intrusion.

He pumped his finger a few times before he added another, the soft stretch sending hot pleasure through your veins, having you chase the feeling in the limited space he made for his hand between your bodies, trying to rock into his hand as he set a maddeningly slow pace.

“Steve, ple-ase-”

The plea melted into a gasp when he curled his fingers, finding your most sensitive spot, your hips jerking forward as the ripple of pleasure he elicited.

“There she is…” he murmured smugly, swallowing your noise of complaint when he pulled his fingers out right then, spreading your slick all over your lower lips and circled your clit only to neglect it right after.

Empty and strung tight at once, you tried to move and chase the much-needed friction, only for Steve’s hips to pin you in place again, palm spawled over your ass.

You wanted to shoot him the dirtiest look for denying you, but all you managed was a soft accusation in your hooded eyes as his still wet fingers tipped your chin up, his intent gaze dark and hungry.

“God, you’re perfect, doll,” he rasped, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You had no time to be embarrassed; not when the words from your dream echoed in your head – except it was not a dream. This was all Steve – his fantasy, his reality too. He liked to watch. He liked to tell you were beautiful. He clearly liked your fantasy too – to have you in his arms, at his mercy.

You wanted to pull him for another kiss, to guide his hand – his cock for god’s sake – where you needed him so much you could barely stand it at this point, but the thrill of the not being able to, not being allowed to, felt almost as good. He was breathing heavy too, yes, but otherwise, holding you down posed no challenge for him, not even with one hand, the other sprawling over your hip again. Your core clenched at the casual display strength, a tiny noise escaping you against your will.

And bless that it did. Steve’s fuck it was the most beautiful song you had ever heard, because it was the sound of breaking.

So fast he battled the speed of light, his hand was back, tearing away the soaked fabric of your panties, mouth stealing the blissful moan from your lips, body letting just an inch of space for you to arch into his touch when his fingers slid right back into your heat, pumping and assaulting your g-spot, this time with his thumb pressing against your clit. Small rhythmic circles, dextrous fingers filling you up over and over and he had you chanting his name as you clenched on his fingers hard, warm release overtaking your body, muscles spasming, your vision blurring for a moment.

And Steve didn’t stop. The back of your head hit the wall with a silent protest as his fingers continued to fill you over and over again, mouth latched onto your neck and sucking a bruise, grasp on your hands firm and you struggled against the hold no longer sure if you wanted to stop him or keep his hand exactly where it was, because despite the overwhelming sensation and overstimulation, your body screamed at you to take it and enjoy the flames licking at your insides, so painfully delicious.

You clamped on his fingers again with a wordless cry, gasping for air as your eyes snapped open, meeting Steve’s impossibly blown pupils drinking in the sight of you overtaken by utter bliss. The wet squelch filling the room was pure filth as you soaked his hand, but you had no capacity to feel ashamed, you body buzzing with adrenalin and white-hot pleasure, Steve’s gaze making you feel like the eighth wonder of the world.

The second he released your shaky hands you were on him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him in for a bruising kiss, his talented fingers slowing down to bring you down from your high. Once he let you get your fill, his kiss softened, short pecks to your lips, to your cheek, to you closed eyelids.

“You okay, Shines? Was that too much?”

You shook your head with a breathless laugh, the action of checking that you were alright familiar, matching the faint memory of seeing the images of his desires. Fuck you so good you’d forget your own name, but in a very respectful and caring way. It had Steve written all over it, alright. You should have known.

His forehead rested against your sweaty one, his nose nudging yours, his body more holding you up rather than restricting your movements now.

“I’m gonna need words, Shines.”

“Yeah,” you whispered obediently, pecking his lips for a good measure.

His hungry eyes sparkled with mischief as they met yours, beautifully red lips curling up in a smirk and causing your racing heart to stumble.

“Good… because I don’t think that’s how the fantasy ended…”

You yelped when his hands slipped under your ass without a single warming and lifted you with ease, your own hands gripping at his shoulders, legs, while rather jelly-like from your mind-blowing orgasms still, wrapping around his waist on instinct. You felt his hardness press against your core, hard planes of muscle without as much minute tremble under your weight as you stared at him, excitement stirring in your belly anew. With laughable ease, one of his arms shifted so he could use his other hand on you as he pleased.

You bit down the squeal ripping from your lips, but not quite successfully. He was carrying you. On one hand. And he didn’t even break a sweat yet.

“Better?” he asked smugly and it shouldn’t be attractive, you hated arrogance, but goddamnit cocky Steve seemed the hottest thing ever at the moment. Even when he was still fully clothed and your dress was loosely hanging over your bra, skirt ruffled up. Christ, his shoulders were so wide-

“I don’t think I can survive better…” you admitted, gulping, but letting your hands roam his exquisite body and gods you could come again just from touching all the delicious power you knew were locked in that body. “But I wanna try.”

Steve’s grin was the thing from your filthiest dreams; and his cock pressing against your core, the annoying fabric of his sweatpants in the way, was too.

“Atta girl…” he praised, hand curling around your nape to pull you in for a kiss that had barely any resemblance to the one he graced you with to bring you down, oh no. He licked into your mouth with indulgence, taking what was already his. “You’re gonna be so good for me, aren’t you? Take everything I give you?”

“Yes.”

“Let me fill you up, again and again until I’ve had enough? Until you’re so completely mine that all you can think of is my name and the way it feels to come on my cock? You’re gonna let me do that, sweetheart?” he whispered to your ear, sin dripping from every carefully spoken syllable. He pulled at your dress, revealing your bra and groaning when he palmed your breast over the thin material, your own hands sliding down his chest and finally under his t-shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

So good. Gods, he felt so good.

“Yes. Wanna feel you. All of you.”

Steve rutted into you and you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and tugged, wordlessly begging him to reveal your playground. He chuckled, pulling at his t-shirt himself to help you, quick to hum a promise to your lips that had your core clench around the painful emptiness.

“Oh you’ll feel me, Shines. I’ll make sure you’ll feel me for days. That what you want?”

One palm sprawled over his chest, the other laid over his abs, you weren’t sure you could answer beyond an absent nod. Steve did not find that satisfactory.

The nips of his teeth combined with the rumble in his ribcage had you release something between a mewl and a gasp, his abdomen shaking with a silent laugher.

“Oh that was a pretty noise. Can’t wait to hear more of it.”

“Steve, please, just-“

He heard out your plea at last, kissing you, free hand going to the laces of his sweats, undoing it way too slowly. Impatient, you knocked his hand away and did it yourself, feeling Steve’s lips curl in a grin against yours.

“Do you need me so much, doll? Need me to make you mine?”

You barely had time to breathe a yes and shove his pants down, hand wrapping around his thick length, drawing a breathy sound of pleasure from him and an unnecessary confession of the obvious.

“Yeah, need you too.”

He allowed you barely a few seconds of pumping his cock before he coaxed your hand away, the head of cock nudging your slit, quickly coated in your slick. His groan was delicious to hear, your hips bucking on instinct.

Yeah, need you too. You did this to him.

“Fuck, Shines, you’ll feel like Heaven.”

It was inappropriate. Completely and entirely inappropriate but you chuckled, a cheeky retort about seven minutes dying on your tongue when Steve entered you, a little too fast and straight to the hilt before he gave you time to adjust to his impressive size and grith. The stretch was a lot; a lot more than his already thick fingers, but you had never known you could be filled so well and it could feel just this good.

He was made for you, he had to be. Or maybe you were made for him.

Little droplets of sweat pearled on his forehead, gaze firm on yours, dark and amused at once as he slowly retreated and pushed inside you again, your lips dropping open because you had been wrong; he stretched you further and a shy glance down told you he still had a way to go.

“I could hear that pun before you said it, doll. You’re thinking too much,” he husked, setting a pace and pushing just a bit further and further with each thrust, hand sprawling over your lower back to angle you to his liking – for you to take him even deeper. The burn and fulness felt impossible, but Steve’s intent gaze on your face was even more so. “Let’s fix that.”

“I thought you liked me brilliant?” you hummed as if you didn’t feel your toes curl in pleasure, your hands grasping at his shoulders, at his arms, anywhere to keep him closer, closer…

Wind knocked out of you with ne sharp thrust, you finally took all of him; your lips parted with silent oh god, eyes slipping shut as the sensation of utter fullness. Distantly, you could feel his gaze on you, drinking in the sight; the artist in him admiring the visual, no matter how plain you thought you had to look.

“I do, Shines… but now I need you to think about one and one thing only.”

There was no space for words after that. Once he had you, he set a punishing pace, claiming your lips as much as your silky heat, overwhelming all of your senses all over again. The onslaught of sensation – his warmth, his strength, his musky scent, his lips, his grip on you, the fast but deep drags of his girth against your walls, stretching you to your limits – it was all too much, too much when his fingers sneaked between your bodies and ripped the dress away to give the much-needed attention to your clit.

“Steve-“

“That’s it…” he spoke against your mouth, teeth grazing your lower lip even as his pace never faltered, building you towards the skies again, “you really are perfect, Shines, gripping me so tight. So perfect and mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours… yours… yours,” you promised with every thrust until you couldn’t, your lips falling limp, your nails digging into Steve’s back when you came with another shout of his name.

And soon, he followed, whispered praises and mine over and over as he made you exactly that. Thoroughly his. Keeping you close even when he pulled out, keeping you close when his spent drippled out of you and he simply gathered in on his fingers, pushing it right back, dark gaze never leaving yours, your stomach making wild somersaults.

Mine. So completely mine. Aren’t you, Shines?

You were. Completely his, deeply sated and utterly exhausted. You were grateful he carried you to bed, because your legs were beyond functioning; as he laid you down, you couldn’t see the clock and you thanked heavens for that, because the time had had to tipped over from too late to too early. But you couldn’t care less. Not when Steve’s fingers caressed every inch of bare skin of your body they could reach, the rags of your clothes in a messy pile by the door a proud reminder of how exactly he had got it off.

And got you off.

You mentally snorted at the bad pun, another one you didn’t have a chance to share since Steve had been too determined to stop you from thinking returning to your mind.

“Steve?” you smiled lazily as he was lying next to you, propped up at his elbow, smiling down at you softly – so softly in contrast to how he had railed you into oblivion. Lovingly, of course.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I think this was what we should call Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

He groaned, falling on his back and drawing a full belly laughter from you, throwing his arm over his face as if he couldn’t bear to look at someone who made such a terrible joke. With effort, you propped on your elbow then, looking at the gorgeous length of his body for a change, cheeks hurting from grinning so wide. He was a work of art; Michelangelo’s David had nothing on him. Superb balance of size and function in every muscle, every tendon, as hard as stone when needed and carved into perfection. Alive and warm under your gaze and touch, its utter superiority proven by countless missions and work-out you had witnessed. It wasn’t just how large his body was, the contrast of the width of his shoulders to his waist, the lines of his abs with soft treasure trail; it was the knowledge of what his body could do. What that brilliant mind behind those sweet blues could come up, the kind heart humming contentedly under your palm now. You had met enough dumb jocks in your line of work, big almost as Steve, handsome too; but they could never compare.

He moved his arm when your fingers walked down his sternum, heading for the treasure trail; his cerulean eyes observed with a mixture of mischief and warmth, wide awake despite the ungodly hour. You stopped, fingers hovering just above his skin, the heat it radiated tickling your fingertips.

It didn’t escape you – it was literally hard to miss that – that Steve clearly hadn’t had enough. You didn’t ask why, whether it was the serum or something else, but you knew you didn’t want to leave him unsatisfied.

You had promised, hadn’t you, even if it was in the heat of the moment. Until he had his fill, he said? You could take it.

Leaning down to kiss him, you were welcomed by the sweet taste of his smile; your wandering hand continued your path at last, wrapping around his still very hard length. He didn’t protest, only reached out to pull you closer, practically lying on top of him.

The kiss was lazy; half-hearted desire, reluctance and indulgence at once. Steve tangled his fingers in your hair, pushing it out of the way, caressing your cheek.

“You sure you can take more, sweetheart?”

You nodded without a second thought, a wordless ‘yeah’ whispered straight into his mouth, a slight twist of your hand causing him to groan.

Steve might be caring to a fault, but he was only a man – as he had said. Who was he to refuse your offering? He sat up and pulled you to his lap with ease, your body obedient and pliant, a gasp elicited from your throat when his lips moved to suck on your nipple, your fingers gripping on his hair.

“Steve…”

“Did I mention you were perfect?” he muttered into your soft flesh, kneading your ass and your breast.

You had never felt so utterly adored; body, mind and soul. How could you be anything else than his when this was what it was like?

“Once or twice. You’re not too bad yourself, Cap-tain,” you stuttered when he pinched your other nipple for the cheekiness, a breathy giggle escaping you.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, gaze having turned hungry again.

“Good. Turn around, sweetheart.”

You looked at him slightly confused, but obeyed. You’d do anything, even kneel in front of him, the prospect of him taking you from behind like this stirring something deep inside you. You glanced over your shoulder as he positioned himself behind you, a glorious god prepared to claim the sacrifice of those who worshipped him; and god, would you do exactly that.

He grasped at your chin softly, capturing your lips with his, his hardness nudging the globes of your ass; and released your lips all too soon, fingers pushing at your jaw to look forward.

Heat flooded your body, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Kneeling on the bed, completely bare and exposed, you were facing the mirror.

His fantasy. His turn.

“That okay?” Steve asks, voice husky as his lips attached to the flesh above your collarbone, his arm sneaking around your waist and pulling you to his front. He was hidden from your sight for most part, a true shame; you were on full display.

For you. For him.

You gulped, gaze set firmly on his face in the mirror, not daring to stray it elsewhere even as you could see his eyes appreciating his view.

“I… I think so?”

His smile was warm, a little boyish and entirely devious. You sunk into it as much as you sunk into his firm body, his fingers tweaking your nipple, drawing your gaze to the movement of instinct. Heat spread in your insides at the sight of his large hand over you, barely an edge of shame nudging your consciousness. Filthy. Vain. Wrong. Thrilling.

“Good… ‘cause I think we can do better than seven minutes,” Steve hummed with a trace of humour in his voice, free hand sliding between your thighs to tease you and make sure you were ready for him still – or again. When he spread your lips for the head of his cock, you instinctively bucked into his hand, gaze flickering to the sinful image. “In fact… I wonder how long you can last until you’re begging me…”

He pushed into you in one swift movement, strong hand keeping you in place, the tendons on his forearm dancing, a breathless oh falling from your lips.

“…to stop. Look at yourself, sweetheart. Look at us.”

Almost in a haze, like a new dream on its own, you did. With the strangest and most tickling glee, your gaze trailed from where you and Steve were one between your spread thighs, over his arm draped over you, his hand spreading softly over your throat to keep you looking straight into the mirror, lips attached to your temple curled in a smile.

“Your mind is way more filthier than I thought,” you managed to say before he started thrusting into you, his smile earning a wicked edge as he nuzzled your hair.

“Shh… that’s my best-kept secret. You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you, doll?”

Powerful. Adored. Desired.

His.

The next words rolled off your tongue before you could think twice, Steve’s hypnotic gaze on your body enough of an encouragement.

“Keep my mouth busy and I won’t--- oh god.”

The fingers of his left hand circled your clit, sending an almost painful pleasure through your veins, while his right hand angled your head to capture your lips indeed.

“Now who’s filthy,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against your mouth, dark pupils blown wide as you sucked on it obediently. He pushed into you so deep at the action you thought you’d feel him in your throat and you finally understood the expression of la petit mort. The feeling of bliss washing over you was so strong it could kill you and yet you’d never felt more alive. “Fuck, Shines, you’re gonna be the death of me. But first… let me show you how beautiful you look when I make you mine.”

And he did. Oh, he did.

And he’d stand by his promise that you’d feel it for days too, you were sure of it, even if only time would tell.

The sun was already rising and peeking through the blinds when you finally laid your head on the pillow to sleep at last. Successful revels Thor would say, you thought lazily.

You walked the fine line between consciousness and dreams, cradled to Steve’s chest, closer than you ever thought you could be. Idly, you let your mind wander; despite the absolutely mind-blowing sex that only probably happened to a person once in a lifetime, you couldn’t but believe that this wasn’t a one-time thing. No, Steve didn’t do one-night stands, he even said so; his mind was on your for quite some time. This was but a start and you loved the idea of that. Not just because of the promise or experiencing this again, the pleasure still flowing through your body as an echo of what had been almost too much bliss to bear, but because of love.

You had been more than a little in love with him for almost two years – and you couldn’t wait to fall harder. Because besides being a sight to behold, Steve’s arms provided comfort, safety and sincere affection. You didn’t have to be scared of that fall, because they’d catch you. You didn’t have to fear for your heart if you gave it to him, because you knew Steve Rogers to his core; he’d cherish the gift and guard it with his life.

And he’d deserve it too, your whole heart. He deserved to be loved deeply and unconditionally; and on occasion, filthily.

With a sleepy hum, he nuzzled into your neck almost as if he could hear your thoughts and approved of them, pressing a soft kiss there. You drifted off to sleep with a little sappy but entirely adoring smile.

“You did something to the bottle, didn’t you? Some fancy physics trick?” Bucky said, more an announcement than a question, just before he decided to finally follow Steve’s and your example, ready to retreat to sleep – most of the group did anyway.

Tony was a picture of genuine innocence for once at the accusation. “Me? Please. How would I even do that?”

“I dunno. Magnets? Electric pulse? Flying invisible bot? What do I know…”

A nearby chuckle caught both Tony’s and Bucky’s attention, their suddenly knowing gazes finding Loki with his arms crossed over his chest. They didn’t bother to pretend to be irritated, even as at any other time, they would have been. For once, they were just grateful; Friday had silently informed them that the agent known as Speedy had been last seen outside Steve’s suite and wasn’t seen leaving for at least an hour.

If the two clueless dumbasses figured their shit out at last, Loki’s mischievous involvement was worth it.

“Oh no, I cannot possibly take the credit for that part.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “What part can you take the credit for?”

“You could not handle the truth, Sergeant,” Loki smirked, causing Bucky to roll his eyes. “But not the bottle. I swear. I admit that I wanted to – but I did not have to.”

“So you want me to believe that after two years of Steve and Speedy needing to pull their head out of their asses and at least half of us trying to talk some sense into one or the other, a stupid game an even stupider coincidence finally did it for them. Really?”

Tony nodded, watching Loki with searching gaze. “Yeah, I’m with Buckaroo on this o-“

The sudden soft dragging sound and a clink drew the gazes of all three men. The bottle, having spun a bit, came to a slow stop under their watchful eye.

“Dammit, Loki-“

The trickster raised his hands in defence, chuckling again. “I did not do anything!”

“Yeah, right-“

The bottle shifted again, this time spinning fast – and stopped abruptly at once.

“But-“ Bucky froze mid-sentence. Then, his head snapped in the direction the bottle was pointing now. His eyes found the young redhead witch, walking out of the room hand-in-hand with Vision. As Tony followed Bucky’s line of sight, his mouth fell slightly agape.

Loki only smirked harder. “I must say, it is always a pleasure to say this: I told you so.”

“No way,” Tony breathed out, incredulous.

“Stark, give that girl a raise,” Bucky muttered, shocked as well; but completely sincere in his request. Bless magic. Bless that girl for pushing the idiot of his friend into what Bucky couldn’t convince him to do for months.

Wanda only smiled at them over her shoulder and walked out of the door with a silent ‘good night’.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Complete masterlist

The prompt was Only when you and your significant other are locked in the closet for 7 minutes, you’re transported somewhere else. and well. Yeah. I transported them into each other’s head – specifically, into their filthy fantasy. I am not even sorry anymore for that cheat if it is a cheat🫡 Though I am a little sorry for the length because this was supposed to be a one shot (story of my life).

Well, this was a LONG ride. I hope you enjoyed it 🤭

Let me know if did and if you can🥰

Thank you for reading!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers lemons #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #captain america #agent reader #seven minutes #anika ann #jamieshalloween2023

140 notes · View notes

laylark · 7 days

Text

Women are just pathetic little toys made for a man’s pleasure. Their body, mind, and every essence of their being should be conditioned to being used by and for men. All the little fucked up bitches who were already trained and rape bait themselves in public have already done exactly what they’re made for. The rest of you should do more.

Being groped on the tram? Moan just loud enough for them to hear as you lean into it. Being pinned down in an alleyway and fucked like a bitch? You’d better offer the best of everything you have. Receive a rape threat from someone? Send them a picture of your cunt and beg them to come and take it. No matter what fucked up thing a man does to use you, it’s a fucking compliment that you’re being used what you’re made for.

So all you little toys who think they’re stronger and more independent… you’re not. You’re just denying yourself the happiness of being a brain dead cock whore.

Fix it now by going through my blog and rubbing your cunt to every thing you see. Then when you’re done with mine, go to the next fucked up blog you see. Eventually, that “brain” you used to have will instead be leaking onto the bed sheets you’ve cum on for the 5th time that day.

Now get to work so we can use you. Thank me later by worshipping.

#free use slvt #bd/sm daddy #bd/sm kink #daddy's good girl #bd/sm community #bd/sm relationship #bd/sm lifestyle #cnc free use #daddy k!nk #daddy'slittlegirl #mind break #bd/sm corruption #corruption kink #mind corruption #bimboification #bimbo training

24 notes · View notes

stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 11 months

Text

Without a Trace [Ch. 11]

Vigilantes AU TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Blood, Minor Character Death, Gun Use, Knife Use, Major Character Death, Body Horror/Gore, Descriptions of Murder, Physical Assault, Implied Mental Assault Genre: Drama, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: ATEEZ x Reader Y/N Pronouns: Gender Neutral (They/Them) Word Count: 13.4K Summary: Vigilante work has been outlawed, thus sending nine prominent vigilantes either into retirement or into lower ground and, while some abide by the law, a few continue on. Then, one day, a greater threat forces these vigilantes to come together once again, regardless of the law.

(11/11) [First] | [Previous] [Other Groups Masterlist] | [Without a Trace Masterlist]

Notes: HOOOO BOYYYYYYY AHA I DID IT GUYS, I COMPLETED A SECOND SERIES AHAHAAHAHA stay tuned for the end for a special note from me!. Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

You felt disoriented, like your brain was doing flips and your eyes were spinning faster than merry-go-rounds. You rose a hand to your head to try to soothe the throbbing pain in it. Memories seemed to overlap or even completely rewrite, and there were even some memories that seemed fuzzy and incomplete, like they were nothing more than distant dreams.

“If we’re coming back, let’s do it the right way, no more skirting around the law, we both have common goals, right?” Mingi says. You look up, you were standing in the Warehouse now with the other members of the team. “If we cooperate, we could amend the law and get back to what we do best.”

“Plus, I wouldn’t mind a paycheck,” Wooyoung huffs.

Something’s off.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you both,” Yunho spoke up next to you. “I of all of you know how fine print contracts work, for all we know they could arrest us as soon as the Charlatan’s captured.”

“I hate to break it to you two, but some of us have lengthy records on us, not to mention warrants for arrest,” Seonghwa glances over to you and you glanced back. What was this intense feeling of deja vu you were having? “(Y/N)?”

“Uh…” you paused. This conversation just seemed too familiar. “I don’t know, I think we should discuss it more before making a concrete decision,” you finally answered. You looked around the room, something had to be up, now, you were sure. San was skeptical, Yunho was calculating, Hongjoong was waiting, Mingi was worried, Yeosang was busy, Wooyoung was confused, Seonghwa seemed decided, and Jongho… You stopped on him, both of you having made eye contact. Jongho was silent, but he tapped on his wristwatch instead before silently shushing you with a small nod.

“Professor Jung assured to me that our work would be kept under lock and key,” Hongjoong says, pulling you both out of your staring contest. But the conversation started to fall into the background for you, you were too concerned with another matter at hand, too concerned with the way the Timekeeper’s attention landed on you for a second too long.

“If I may,” Jongho, who’d been silent, speaks up now, diverting everyone’s attention to him. “I think we should work independently. We’ve been fine on our own until now, and we will continue to be fine on our own in the future.” He looks to you again. Bingo, the pieces started to connect. They connected faster than you could realize.

Then, you remembered it all. You turned to look at San, who seemed as aloof as usual, neither adding to nor moving the conversation along, and as soon as you took a step toward him, Jongho was quick to intervene.

“What do you think, Spades?” He interjects and the argument ceases. You froze in place, having been caught off guard, and Jongho senses your unease. “Well? Work with the police or not?” Your expression tensed for a moment. The police? What was the correlation there? You had to have been brought back to this moment for a reason, Jongho singled out this sole moment for a reason. Last time, you cooperated with the police, but how did that land you in that situation?

…

Mingi. You looked over to the man who had been nervously fidgeting around with the ball in his hands. Was it really the police’s fault that he got caught?

Come to think about it, maybe they were responsible for so much more.

“I vote no, we should work on our own,” you finally answered. Jongho seemed to relax.

“We were self sufficient before, I’m sure we’d be fine still,” Seonghwa adds. “Like I said, working on our own, especially for some of us, is our best option,” he says.

“Then, it’s decided, I’ll relay to the professor our choice,” Hongjoong says. “Meeting adjourned. We’ll sleep on it and discuss the plan tomorrow,” he turns away, phone in his hand already.

“Hey, hey! Look what I found!” Wooyoung’s voice was chipper while he pried open the fridge. “How old do you think these are?” He pulls out a pack of beers.

“Well, considering I just restocked it, about three days old,” Yunho laughs, taking the box from him and opening it easily. You, meanwhile, turned to San, ready to corner him, but someone rushed past you and grabbed your arm.

“Don’t lose your cool,” Jongho says. “He doesn’t know what we know,” he tells you. You swallowed harshly, looking at San, who was speaking to Wooyoung, one more time. “Let’s talk outside,” Jongho whispers. You nodded and followed him out. The sun had already begun to set, and you never really thought of it back then, just how quick all of this played out. Getting on the Charlatan’s list, forming this group, nearly dying, and more, it was all over the course of little over a week. How quickly time passed by when you were busy with other things.

“What the hell is all of this, then?” You asked. Jongho glanced at the security camera before looking to you. You glared at him but, with a flick of your wrist, the camera was disabled with your knife embedded into it. “Talk.”

“There’s a reason why I chose the name Timekeeper,” he says before tapping his watch.

“Okay, bravo, you cracked time travel. What’s that got to do with me not sticking a knife in San’s head?”

“Let’s not be too rash, you remember that video, I know you do. He didn’t know either.”

“Why are you vouching so hard for him? You knew from the beginning why I did this vigilante shit, it was so I could kill whoever started this whole mess,” you argued. “Fuck, I just can’t believe I’m arguing with you instead of him.”

“Looked like you weren’t even going to give him the chance to explain it,” he shook his head and you took a deep breath. Unfortunately, he was right. After you saw that video you were so set on confronting him already. You left the room with that intention, and when you saw that the bars had descended you didn’t even think twice before stepping through the door he went through. And after you saw those articles strewn across the floor? You lost it. The drumming in your ears, the Charlatan’s taunting voice, and the memory of coming back to a dead body.

You really were going to kill him.

“I brought you back with me for a reason, (Y/N),” he says.

“You know something I don’t, huh?” You asked him.

“I do, but you’re going to have to trust me,” he says.

“How many times have you gone back?” You asked him.

“Enough times to realize that my old memories are becoming my new ones,” Jongho mumbles. “The last time I brought someone back with me it spelled disaster for that timeline.”

“Oh, I feel so special.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N).”

“So, what? You want me to show him some sympathy?”

“No, not necessarily.”

“What’s so important about him anyway? The world would be better off without him.”

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me.”

“Dammit, Jongho, what am I supposed to do?!” The argument continued forth, but Jongho kept a level expression. “I spent my whole life looking for the person that killed Eric. And he’s in there, having a drink with Wooyoung. Jongho, all of my friends have went through so much shit, it has to amount to something, all that pain we went through needs its closure,” you said steadily.

“And you don’t need to kill someone to do that,” Jongho shook his head.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’ve always cared about all of you,” he says. “You know who really killed Eric. You’re just upset that San got to him before you did.”

The senator sends his regards. San’s voice was so clear now that you knew it was him.

“Alright, I’m listening,” you took a deep breath. “Why did you bring me back with you?”

“You remember everything that happened clearly, right?” Jongho asks.

“Sure.”

“You remember everyone’s injuries?”

“Yes…”

“You remember what everyone said?”

“Vaguely, but what does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to pull out of this,” Jongho says. “The team, I need you to go back and say you’re out.” You stared at him, processing what he’s saying.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said. “I can’t just leave them to deal with the Charlatan on their own, they’re dangerous, I can’t in good faith let my friends chase after them alone.”

“You have to, (Y/N),” Jongho insists. “It’s the only combination I haven’t done yet. Even all that shit I said in there to get the police off our backs, that timeline ended up with Hongjoong shot dead by them,” he argues. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Every time I’ve repeated that sequence it always ends in all of us dying because of this guy. We have never won against the Charlatan,” Jongho shouts. You took a step back, the suddenness of Jongho’s outburst being something you’d never have expected from him.

“How many futures have you seen?”

“A lot.”

“There has to be one where we win.”

“I thought there was, the one where I went back and convinced you not to join at all. But, in the end, the Charlatan got you. He got all of us,” Jongho shudders. “It was the longest timeline we’d went, I thought I finally found the perfect sequence. Ten years, we were all fine for ten years before that bastard came back to finish the job,” he says. You listened intently.

“Then… do you know who the Charlatan is?” You asked quietly. Jongho made a nodding motion, before shaking his head instead.

“Yes… but also no.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N), the Charlatan has been different every time,” he says. You held back a remark.

“What do you mean?” You shook your head slightly.

“My first timeline the Charlatan was a man named Derek Watts. Ordinary guy, interested in hypnotism, and hated vigilantes because during Aegis’ first bank save his dad died getting caught in the line of fire.”

“Huh, textbook villain.”

“Yup.”

“And then?”

“In the next, a man named Zhang Li,” Jongho crosses his arms. “Young college graduate, girlfriend died in a botched save from Mono.”

“Another textbook.”

“Exactly. Hundreds of timelines, hundreds of Charlatans. Hell, in one of my timelines, you were the Charlatan,” Jongho said in a low voice. “Eric died, you looked everywhere for help, and got none. Your friends died too. And you were left alone. I don’t blame you.” You couldn’t answer. “But then, I thought, what if you knew. What if you had some general knowledge about what was going to happen already, and I figured I’d try it. The last time I brought someone back it went to shit, but maybe this time it’d work out.”

“Who’d you bring back the last time?” You asked. Before Jongho could answer, the door swung open and San, face tinted pink, held two beers in one hand and a half drank one in the other.

“You two making out?” San chuckles through his slurred words. “I’m joking, come join us, we’re getting caught up,” he offers the two bottles to you both and, once you take them, returns inside.

“Him, he was the last person I brought back,” Jongho said once he was out of earshot.

“Him?” You asked with disbelief.

“He’s smarter than you give him credit for,” Jongho says. “We went pretty far with his help too, eight years.”

“What did he do differently?”

“I made sure he didn’t kill Eric,” Jongho said quietly. You looked at him.

“And?”

“Eric became the Charlatan.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Why?”

“After the ban was passed, he was furious. All that work he did, all that effort he put into everything, he was repaid with a stab to the back.” The way he spoke bothered you. He was just so nonchalant about it, like he’d seen so many of the same outcome so many times he’d become wholly desensitized to it. “I’ve been keeping tabs on everyone who’d been the Charlatan, at least. You’ll never know if a timeline decides to repeat itself, right?”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.”

“Hey! Are you two coming in or what?!” Wooyoung’s voice boomed from inside and you both laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming in,” you answered back. “We should go, before they suspect anything.”

“Sure,” Jongho held the door open for you but, before you could step in, he grabbed your arm again, “don’t make any rash decisions.”

“If I did, you’d just twist that watch of yours and go back, so why would it matter?” You shook his hand off and you both filed in. The boys were all seated, beers in the middle table and in their hands.

“About time!” Yunho grins. You popped the cap off of your bottle against the table and took a seat on one of the plastic chairs. “Ask (Y/N) next!” He says.

“Ask me what?” You drank some of your beer while Wooyoung spoke.

“Fuck, marry, kill Outro,” Wooyoung says.

“What are we, kindergartners?” You rolled your eyes, but Wooyoung’s expectant eyes said it all. "Fine, fuck Hope, marry Mono, and kill Agust,” you answered before drinking more. “Nothing against Agust, other than the fact that his inventions backfired on us a couple of times.”

“See, told you,” Yeosang nudges Wooyoung’s arm and the latter frowns.

“Is drinking before an operation a good idea?” Jongho asks, can of beer still unopened.

“Probably not,” San masks his burp with his fist, “but fuck it, right? I haven’t spoken to any of you for ages,” he shakes his head.

“I know! What have we all been up to, anyway?” Wooyoung’s voice overpowered San’s. But, even with the chatter, you couldn’t stop that nagging voice at the back of your head. You looked at all eight of them. Yunho’s shoulder was fine, he was moving around as much as usual. Yeosang was standing upright with ease. Everyone was… fine. You saw the future, or you were from it at least. According to Jongho, it should be different now without the police getting in the way, but you couldn’t help but worry. Was everyone’s safety so infringed on your involvement? Everyone’s wellbeing? You could feel the weight of their lives settling on your shoulders now, how could Jongho do this too? And how could he seem so… You looked at him now, his face stuck into one of indifference. No, you could’ve sworn that at one point he was as loud and cheery as the others.

When did he change? You wondered.

But your thoughts didn’t dwell on him for long, no, instead you looked at the boy next to him. He had discarded his jacket long ago, instead sporting his usual black tee that had some frays and faint blood splatters. His shoulders were relaxed while he laughed fully. How could he? How could he laugh like he didn’t ruin your life? It was almost funny, though, at one point you would’ve said that he saved your life. He was there after everything happened, picking up the pieces like…

Your breath caught in your throat.

He was there. Picking up the pieces like he felt obligated to. There was no doubt about it, San’s appearance in your life was due to whatever guilt surfaced when he realized what he had done. So what were you to him, then? A charity project? A way to repent besides turning himself in? All those soft smiles he showed you, the small gifts from him that you thought he wouldn’t have known about, and the days he’d walk you home thinking that he’d keep you safe, he did all of those knowing that he murdered your best friend.

And all that time you had no idea.

What was it like for him?

To take care of the person who was left behind? And to have no one to go to to talk about it?

“You alright, (Y/N)?” Yunho was next to you now, crouched in front of you while he waved a hand in front of your face. You blinked back into reality. “You good? I know when you’re thinking,” he takes the bottle from your hands and places it just out of reach. You straightened your position and took a deep breath.

“I'm backing out.”

And that’s how you ended up watching from afar.

Hongjoong wrote up a new plan, it took all night, but he came up with something else. Nothing he could do about you not being there with them, anyway.

Hell, you weren’t even in the general vicinity of the city.

The sunlight was surprising soft, the sea breeze rushed passed you while you adjusted your sunglasses and took a step off the train. And, directly ahead of you, was the person you’d called for a favor.

“(Y/N), over here,” Jisung rose his hand from its place in his jacket’s pocket, and you walked over to him while waving too. “Glad you called, she’s waiting for you,” he says.

“I bet, she’s been waiting for a while, huh?”

“Year and a half, give or take,” Jisung shrugged and opened the car door for you. “But, well, she was always the more hopeful one out of all of us,” he slides into the driver’s seat. Once you’d both closed your doors, he takes a deep breath. “So, what happened? They kick you out?”

“I left,” you answered while he started the car. “Call it a gut feeling,” you added, stopping yourself from remembering what you did to San before.

“Well, it’s never been wrong,” Jisung says. “You felt it before with Jeno.”

“And since then I’ve never ignored it.”

“Exactly,” he says. “But, it’s not like you to pull out of an operation so abruptly.”

“What do you know about me?”

“More than you think,” he chuckles. “We used to be close, remember?” He says with a teasing tone.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Until I see that son of a bitch on the news,” you looked out the window as Jisung turned up onto a hill.

“So… couple of days?” Jisung asks.

“Sure,” you nodded your head slightly. Hongjoong had told you to lay low and go far since you were technically the most at risk in terms of the Charlatan. Originally, you’d planned to hide out in your apartment, but it’s been compromised too much for you to stay there. Then, after moving around the city, you remembered a certain someone who’d been trying to reach out to you for a while now. A person who you knew was in a secure location.

“We’re here,” Jisung pulled into a parking space and got out of the car with you following close behind. You pulled the door to the care center open and quickly stopped while someone stepped out.

“Oh, thank you,” the older man grinned. His grip was tight over the handle on his cane, and he walked with a noticeable limp. One quick glance was enough to see how badly burnt one side of his body was, as the scars creeped up to his face. He stared at you as long as you stared at him. He looked familiar. “Oh… is that (Y/N)?” He asked, his voice unstable but recognizable.

“Mr. Lee?” You chanced your first thought and he nodded. Jeno’s dad. How fitting.

“My god, look at you,” he hobbles closer to you and looks at you with caring eyes. “And Jisung too? My, my, what are you both doing here? You’re both too young to have to be at a place like this,” he shakes his head sadly.

“Mr. Lee, let’s have a seat over there and then we can get caught up,” Jisung looks over to the bench on the side and walks next to the older man, supporting him by the shoulders as the three of you sat down. “Our friend Giselle’s been staying here too, actually, so we came to visit her,” Jisung says.

“Giselle is also here? As a patient?” He asks in a melancholy voice. “Why her, of all the people? She has such a bright future ahead of her,” he frowns.

“Just… you know,” you couldn’t tell him the truth, “things happen. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“It always was that way,” Mr. Lee shakes his head. “So tragic, what happened to all of you because of vigilantes. Eric, Giselle, and even my Jeno, oh, it still hurts to think about what happened to my little boy,” Mr. Lee rubs his face with his hands. “I don’t know why he got caught up in that business anyway,” his voice shakes. “You both give Giselle my wishes, alright? Poor girl,” he mutters.

“Wait, but, Mr. Lee, what happened to you? You’re a patient here as well?” You asked.

“Yes, I am, but I usually stay with my wife,” he says. “I was just getting groceries until I was caught up in a heist led by TNT, I think his name was, and I got caught in the blast,” he says.

“That’s horrible, Mr. Lee,” your own voice nearly got choked up. You were there. You were there and you couldn’t even do anything, what with you nearly getting caught in the blast too, and now you were hearing that your friend’s dad was there at the same time? You could defend yourself, sure, but Mr. Lee? One look at his cane told you everything you had to know.

“This thing? It’s okay, I’ve gotten used to it,” he says wistfully. “It makes me look a little cooler now, right?” He chuckles. “But, I don’t want to hold you any longer, I know your friend is waiting for you both.”

“Will you be alright on your own, Mr. Lee?” Jisung asks.

“I’m old, not crippled, boy,” he says in a teasing voice and Jisung laughs.

“Alright, alright, I get it, old man,” he says. “Who’s picking you up?”

“The wife, of course,” he grins. “Now, go on! Leave this old man to his thoughts,” he insists and, slowly, you both got up and exchanged your goodbyes again before entering the facility.

“Welcome to Jaramedica, the rehabilitation center for all those damaged by vigilante or villain exploits,” the woman at the front desk greeted you as you neared. “Mr. Han, here to see Ms. Uchinaga again?” She asks.

“Yup, I brought another guest with me though,” he nudges his head toward you.

“Alright, full name, please,” she asks.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

“And recorded, please enjoy your time,” she hands you and Jisung key cards and you walk through.

The inside was akin to a paradise, or at least in your terms it was. It was as grand as those resorts you used to see on commercials, and somewhere was Giselle, who’d been here for a while now. Her parents wanted her to rehabilitate in the best of facilities, after all, and no where was better than this one. The air was clean, the area spacious, and the people, god, just looking at them made you feel happier too.

“Inside here,” Jisung tugs you into one of the cottages and you locked the door behind you. “Gigi, I brought a surprise,” Jisung announced. You heard the TV’s volume lower.

“I’m in the room, Jisung, come in whenever!” That was the first time you’d heard her voice in… a while. You didn’t know what you were expecting it to sound like, maybe tired and strained, but no, instead it was the same as you’d remembered it. That made it even the more sadder, and couldn’t stop the guilt that circled your heart. You followed Jisung quietly, and when you stepped into the room, you were surprised by how bright it was in there with the window wide open and the breeze flowing through.

But it was nothing compared to her, you old best friend, who sat tucked into bed with her lunch on the table next to her, and her widened eyes that stared at you like they’d seen a ghost.

“Hey, Gigi,” you said quietly. And, immediately, her lips fell into a frown, but not the disappointed kind, no, the sad one, the one that scrunched her eyebrows together and formed tears at the corner of her eyes, the one that was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. Then, as if she’d been waiting, she opened her arms, and you melted into them, your face buried into her shoulders while she pressed her head against yours.

“I missed you so much, (Y/N),” she mumbled. “Look at you, wow,” she pulls away from you first, holding your face in one hand. Then, in a quick turn up, she whistles. “This one looks like a close call," she traces the scar under your chin.

“Too close for comfort, that’s for sure,” you answered. Then she pulled your wrist, looking at the scars that decorated your arms from the many fights you had. “Well, at least you got most of these when we were still together,” she says.

“Sure, that too,” you said while Jisung pulled up two chairs.

“Now, where did you find our littles Spades?” She asks Jisung.

“Technically, I found him,” you corrected her.

“I let you find me,” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” you shot back.

“And still with the banter, it’s almost like nothing ever changed,” Giselle laughs. You leaned back on the chair and then it caught your eye, a picture frame off to the side next to her. A closer look showed that it was a picture from before all of this, before your lives went to shit, and before vigilantes were even in the public eye. The five of you stood next to each other, arms wrapped around the person next to them and smiles brighter than ever. “I did say almost.” She catches the center of your attention.

“Yeah…” you looked away.

“So, you look like you have a lot to tell me,” she says.

“I do, I do, I don’t know where to even start,” you shook your head.

“We ran into Jeno’s dad just now, actually, he sends his regards,” Jisung says.

“Oh, is Mr. Lee here too? Is he alright?”

“Burns from a TNT heist,” you answered. “He’s still walking, but he has a cane now,” you explained.

“Oh, god,” Giselle frowned. “Next time he comes, I hope I run into him too,” she continued. “I’ve been going outside much more now, actually, the doctors say it’s good for me, so hopefully I see him sooner than later,” she says. Then, like a switch flipped in her head, she spoke again, “actually, before we continue on and before I forget, (Y/N), Jisung and I have something for you,” she snaps her fingers and opens the drawer next to her before handing you a box inside. “Go ahead and open it,” she says. You pulled it open took the SD card from inside of it.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“A gift,” she says. “There’s a computer in the next room, you can go watch it there.”

“Is it something I should watch now?”

“Well… we have time, I think Eric would want you to see it too,” Giselle urges you. Jisung nods.

“A surprise for a surprise, fun,” you flipped the card in your hand and stood up. “It won’t take long, right?”

“Depends on you, (Y/N),” she says.

“Yeah, yeah,” you walked into the next room, Giselle’s and Jisung’s voices growing quieter with the distance, and pushed the SD card into the monitor. You clicked onto the file that appeared on the desktop and what had to be hundreds of video files opened up before you. You clicked the first one and felt your heart stop.

You knew this video.

Eric tapped on the screen of the lens.

“Man… (Y/N) is so going to kill me if they see this,” Eric adjusted the camera to better get a good range around the bedroom. “Okay…” he looks at his phone screen. “Should be fine… I’ll just turn it on when I’m out, I guess…” he continues to mumble to himself while walking around the room. Your bedroom to be exact. The camera caught everything, from the bed, the closet, to the window, it had a good vantage point. “Crap, the one in the living room’s offline again.”

It was the same as the first time you’d seen it, except this time it kept going. You watched Eric move around the whole apartment checking on these hidden cameras you didn’t even know were there and, you were sure, might still be there, just unused and offline.

“Shit… I really hope (Y/N) doesn’t find these but… dammit, I can’t have a close call like that again,” he speaks to himself. “I’ll have to make sure I’m not followed back next time, (Y/N) could…” he stops muttering and shakes his head. You moved on to the next video.

This time, Aegis tumbled in from one of the windows, but as quickly as he came in he stopped to duck behind the curtain as you walked into frame, headphones on and humming whatever song was playing through them, and soon you were out of frame and Eric ran to the bedroom, emerging again in normal clothing and running to the front door. He cleared his throat and loudly announced that he was home and, there you were again, headphones around your neck with a smile.

The next series of videos were either of an empty apartment or of you doing whatever around the area. Occasionally there was a video where he was almost caught and occasionally there was a video of him tinkering with the devices. Then, a strange difference.

Aegis once again tumbled into the apartment and, after a quick check confirming that you weren’t home, Eric removed his mask and took a huge breath, but his eyes widened in shock as soon as he heard something break behind him. He turned around quickly, shield at the ready, before dropping it altogether as someone entered the frame.

Jeno.

“I can explain,” Eric says quickly.

“Holy shit…” Jeno had an apple in his hand and his jaw was practically on the ground. “You’re…”

“Into cosplay!” Eric quickly covered. “Looks good, right? Aegis is awesome!”

“Come on, Eric, I’m not that dumb,” Jeno runs a hand through his hair. “Have you told (Y/N)?”

“Have I told (Y/N)?”

“Have you told (Y/N)?!” “Of course I haven’t told (Y/N)! Are you kidding me?! Have you seen the people after me?!” Now it was Eric’s turn to be frustrated.

“I… holy shit… my best friend is a super hero he’s… he’s the hero!” Jeno freaks out.

“No, no, definitely not a hero, just a guy with a shield,” Eric quickly corrected him. “You can’t tell anyone, Jeno.”

“I won’t!”

“Not even (Y/N).”

“But… wouldn’t… I’m surprised (Y/N) hasn’t figured it out.”

“I can be sneaky when I try. But (Y/N) can’t know. No matter what happens, (Y/N) cannot know. I can’t put them in danger like that, do you understand?” You’d never heard him so serious before. Jeno, who’s countenance was usually so cheery, had grown serious. “Even if I die, (Y/N) cannot know.”

“Christ… that’s dark, man.”

“It’s for their safety.”

“What am I… what do I do if…”

“Don’t tell them, just let the police run their investigation.”

“And if they find your gear?"

“They won’t,” Eric said this as he removed his uniform, clearly showing Jeno where he stashed it and exactly where you remembered it. “Listen, Jen, if anything ever happens to me then you take everything in here and you burn it, got it? (Y/N) can’t be connected to Aegis, god knows who’d be after them,” he says sternly. Jeno only nodded curtly. “If someone else finds these and, I dunno, takes my place, then that’s even better. It would draw attention away from all of you. I originally took this up to protect you all, so I don’t know what I’d do with myself if any of you got hurt because of it.”

It was like everything connected in that moment. Sure, Jeno was the most excited to try the vigilante thing, he showed the most promise, but he never said anything definitive until “Aegis” broke his hiatus. His motive was never ‘what happened to Aegis?’ It was always ‘what happened to Eric?’ Who, thanks to San’s interference, had been removed from Aegis’ history nearly all together.

And when Giselle’s accident happened? Jeno was the first to bring up the idea of pumping the breaks.

And then what happened to him in your next operation?

You moved on to the next video, flipping through until you once again saw Jeno and Eric talking to each other.

“Yo… (Y/N) is going to kill you if they find out about this,” Jeno taps on the camera lens.

“I know, I know!”

“Can you imagine? ‘The Great Aegis killed by angry significant other.’”

“Now that’s a headline,” Eric laughed. “But, I’m only telling you about it because if anything happens you need to take all of the cameras out and take the SD card they’ve been uploading onto. It’s connected to my desktop so just pop it out.”

“Got it, got it, I’m guessing you want me to destroy it, right?”

“Sure, do whatever, just make sure it doesn’t fall in the wrong hands. Who knows what anyone would do with these?”

Wrong hands? The Charlatan had this last time, it was the only way for them to have had the footage. So that left one question then, how did they get it? You continued flipping through videos, only stopping when you got to that one. The one that nearly made you lose your mind.

You skipped through it.

The next video was exactly what you thought it would be. As you expected, it was Jeno, just Jeno, with tears in his eyes and the tip of his nose reddened, you watched him approach each camera and removed them from their spot before you saw him walk to the closet and pull the back panel out. Then you watched his shoulders relax with relief seeing that it was empty. All traces of Aegis were gone. You wondered if Jeno ever suspected the new Aegis, but then again your apartment was privy to burglars and with every window open it would have come as no surprise that Jeno had to consider the possibility. You looked at the date on the corner and, yet another variable, it had been a month after Eric had been murdered.

You didn’t even stay in the apartment that month, no, you stayed with Yuna, who had successfully gotten the cops involved in her case and was now living on her own.

Jeno was smarter than he let on, no wonder he didn’t jump to conclusions. Not in the same way you did, at least.

“Jen? What are you doing in my bedroom?” Your voice was clear.

“Uh… nothing,” Jeno closed the closet door quickly, but quietly, and before running back in the main room grabbed the final camera and, presumably, the SD card you now had in your possession.

“Sure, Jen, stop creeping over there,” Giselle’s voice was as loud as ever, then the video stopped.

You thought that was the last one, but there was one left, and this one was much different than the others.

This time it was in Jeno’s bedroom.

“Hey… (Y/N). Or, at least, I hope it’s you, (Y/N), so if it’s not you just, uh, do me a favor and don’t watch this, or do… I guess,” Jeno rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. This was a different Jeno than the one you’d seen in the earlier videos, he was older, tireder, and maybe a little more jaded, and when you looked at the date on the corner you knew exactly why, it was recorded the day before the altercation with Absolute Zero. “Uh… if you’re watching this then, uh… I guess I’m gone.” You felt your throat choke up and you took a deep breath. “Look, I just had a bad feeling about tomorrow so I wanted to leave this here for my own conscious, ya know? Maybe it’s a little selfish, but you deserve to know everything, (Y/N).”

Jeno rubbed his face tiredly again, feeling the bags under his eyes weigh heavily. He looks over his shoulder and picks up the camera, one that was hidden in the stuffed bear he remembered Eric giving to you a while ago.

“Uh, just to be transparent and everything, here you are,” he shows you asleep on his bed, you’d both agreed to meet up the night before to prepare, then he set the bear down again. “You’re really knocked out there, (Y/N),” he laughs. “But, uh… back to the message and all, this should be the last video on the card, so I’m assuming you watched everything else. Don’t worry, I didn’t watch anything at all aside from the ones I was in, I’m not a creep like that, but I just wanted to tell you that Eric cared so much about you. He really…” Jeno trailed off when he heard you stir.

“Actually, let me move to the kitchen,” he picked up the bear and left the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could before placing the bear down on the counter and sitting in front of it. “Eric only wanted the best for you, he wanted you to see him at his best, so I don’t want you to beat yourself up about what happened anymore. I’m sure you have questions, and I’m sure at least one of them is why I didn’t tell you and just…” Jeno trails again, “I’m sorry, this was all kind of spontaneous, I wasn’t planning on recording anything, but there’s just this gut feeling I have and it’s bothering me, you know? But, well… I told Jisung to take the SD card if anything happened so, yeah, he may have abandoned us but at least he agreed to do that,” he chuckles. But, as it died out, he zoned out for a moment.

“Just… just to toss things out there, I never said anything to the new Aegis,” he says. “I'm not sure if he was the one who killed Eric or if he just looted your place after it happened, but I never said anything. But, you know what, (Y/N)? He cares about you too. I hung out with San a couple of times, actually, just guy stuff, you wouldn’t care. Gym, garage, and golf, the three Gs we called it,” he laughs again. “I don’t think he killed Eric, though. And if he did, he didn’t do it from his own personal vendetta, there’s no way. But, I’ve seen the way he treats you, maybe you could hear him out one day, lend him a talking ear or something, I don’t know. The guy just seems lonely. At least we have each other, you know? I don’t know who he has,” Jeno shakes his head.

“Actually, I take it back,” Jeno backtracks. “San did say something weird to me once when we went drinking, but I never really thought too much about it. He kept saying that he “wronged you” or something like that, he kept talking about how nothing he’d ever do would make up for what he did, and after that I had a feeling. I had a feeling but while I was watching him I couldn’t be mad at him. I know, hate me all you want, curse me or whatever I’m probably dead anyway, but (Y/N), you have to understand, if he killed Eric in cold blood why did he try so hard to help you get back on your feet? Why would he have put so much effort into supporting you if he wanted to hurt him so much? I wish I had the chance to ask and, well, if you’re seeing this then I never made it to that bar hang out we agreed on,” he shakes his head. He was rambling, he knew he was, and in some strange way it comforted him. Saying everything out loud and breaking down everything he learned and observed had this strange cathartic feeling to it that he couldn’t describe. He couldn’t look at the camera, for some reason, it felt as if he was looking at you. But, for this last part, he forced himself over that fear.

“(Y/N), I’ll be so honest with you, I don’t want to die,” his voice was strained and he held back tears. “When I agreed to become a vigilante with you all, I think I was just excited. I wanted to be like Eric too, and I thought that I could, but…” he swallowed harshly. “After what happened to Gigi I… I don’t know anymore. Eric told me he chose to do this to keep all of us safe, and I wanted to honor that legacy of his, and then I failed,” he said this slowly now, taking deep breaths when he could.

“I guess, what I’m trying to tell you is… no matter what happens to me tomorrow, don’t hold it against yourself. Everything I do tomorrow and everything that happens is on me, alright? Just, uh… remember to take a couple of steps back. Don’t lose yourself to the hype like I did, take a page from Eric’s book and remember your place. We’re not heroes, and we’re not villains, we’re just people who decided they like to beat things up,” he laughs pathetically. “And don’t rush into things head on! We won’t be here to back you up this time and I don’t know if you would have anyone after us to do it either! If you do, then by all means, beat the shit out of whoever stands in your way, but otherwise take your time and figure things out before making decisions, yeah?” He points to the camera every now and then before sighing and shaking his head.

“You are one of the closest friends I think I’ll ever have, (Y/N). I’ll keep Eric busy for you, so I’d better not see you again for another 100 years, or whatever,” he says quietly. He’s silent for a while, the sound of the clock ticking behind him being the only sound in the video before he shake his head again. “Take care, (Y/N), and good luck on everything, yeah? You can do it if you put your mind to it, I know you know right and wrong, and I know you know how to choose your friends carefully. No matter what it is you’re doing now, we’re always backing you up,” he says. “Good bye, (Y/N),” he smiles at the camera before leaning over and turning it off, and only then did he take the time to wipe the tears that cascaded down his face.

You sat in silence, the restart button staring at you while you waited. What were you waiting for? Some surprise character to enter this story? You wiped your tears away while you sniffled and you tried to regain your composure.

God, that Jeno, he always knew how to get you in the end.

“I… um…” Jisung started behind you, you turned your head just enough to barely see him. “Jeno said he had a bad feeling about Absolute Zero, and if I saw his name on the news to go to his apartment and grab it.”

“You couldn’t have given this to me earlier?” You asked him.

“We weren’t exactly on speaking terms until recently, you know,” he deadpans.

“Right…” In the end it was your fault. What an ironic connection. “I’m guessing you and Gigi watched it.”

“Just the beginning, and that last video too,” Jisung says. You pulled the SD card out and stared at it, it was just ordinary, no one would have known what was on it and no one would have suspected anything. You placed it in your pocket and pushed past Jisung to go back to Giselle.

“That was fast,” she comments.

“I didn’t want to dwell too much on it.”

“I understand,” she smoothened out her sheets. “(Y/N), Jisung’s been keeping me updated with everything,” she says while reaching for your hand and holding it between hers. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“I know.”

“Now that you have your answer, what will you do?” You were silent. “Maybe you should take it easy now, I don’t think Eric would have wanted you to go on this rampage for him.”

“You’re right,” you nodded your head slightly.

“You’re not going to fight me on it?”

“Why would I?” You sighed and Jisung entered the room.

“Not to be that person, (Y/N), but we’re worried about you,” he says. “Every time the Ace of Spades came up on the news they were further and further from you. Maybe it’s time to drop the knives, (Y/N),” he says. “You know as well as I do, the Charlatan is out of our league. Just leave them to those eight idiots.”

“God, they’re gonna get themselves killed,” you brought your hand to your head.

“Good faith, (Y/N), they’re not that hopeless,” Giselle laughs. “Gosh, look at us, the reunion of Aces.”

“Minus one.”

“Not to be sentimental, but Jeno’s always with us,” Giselle squeezes your hand. Jisung leans against the wall and crosses his arms.

“I should’ve been there,” he says.

“Hey, too late for sympathies,” you cut him off.

“(Y/N), really, you should think about retiring,” Giselle says suddenly. “After everything that’s happened to you, you should put yourself first. You have your answer now, you know what happened, it’s time to give it a rest,” she insists.

“I guess I could…” you looked up and then you hesitated.

Something’s wrong.

That gut feeling of yours was kicking in again. You looked around and your two friends, who’d known you long enough, easily caught on to your unease. Jisung, though, was the one to really take initiative, standing up from his spot and playing around with something hidden in his sleeves.

Then, you looked up, specifically at the window.

You couldn’t get a good look at who it was, you only caught the shadow of them moving away. Shit, did the Charlatan find you? How? Why? This place was supposed to be secure! But a quick shared look with Jisung made all the pieces fit together.

Two targets in one place. Vulnerable. The Charlatan wouldn’t have missed an opportunity like that.

“I’ll be right back,” you stood up slowly and, before you could take a step to the door, someone grabbed onto your wrist. You followed it and looked to Giselle. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just have a hunch,” you told her.

“I’m not stopping you, I just want to tell you to be careful,” she says.

“I will, I always am,” you reassured her. Jisung looked out the window.

“I’ll stay here with Gi,” he says.

“Yeah, no telling what can happen now. I know security is air tight here but…”

“You know what you’re up against better than we do,” Jisung fills in the blanks for you.

“Yeah, stay safe, hopefully I’ll be back soon,” you approached the door.

“See you later, (Y/N),” Giselle’s voice was distant as you left the small home.

The outdoors was bright and the cheery voices around you contradicted the intense feeling at the back of your head. You knew you were being watched, but you couldn’t tell who was watching you. There was no sight of anyone suspicious from earlier and the crowd made it hard to pinpoint where he could have gone, until a sudden movement caught your eye, a door shutting a little too quickly and a little too suddenly, so you moved toward it without hesitation.

The layout was near identical to Giselle’s home, save for the fact that it was littered with unopened boxes with a noticeable layer of dust on them. They were still sealed shut with tape and they were stacked amongst each other in various places throughout the room. The windows, likewise, were blocked by various pieces of cardboard that were held together by even more tape and even more boxes. Despite those, the room was empty, you were pretty sure. In fact, to the untrained eye, it looked like you were alone.

You knew that the Charlatan’s lackey was in here somewhere, you could feel it. You thought this as you walked further in, looking behind boxes and peeking into the rooms.

Where?

Where did they go?

There was only one way in and out of the cottages, even the windows couldn’t be opened that far by design. You stood in the middle of the room now, how could you miss them?

Clang!

You hit the floor with a loud thud, the metal cane dropping next to you being the last thing you saw before blacking out.

Jongho was right. Everything was going perfectly. Everyone was in relatively good shape, too. He saw this as everyone regrouped in the warehouse that Yeosang had finally traced the signals from the broken Charlatan mask to, they found everything they needed and more than enough evidence to break down the Charlatan’s modus operandi. They found the missing vigilante weapons, they found many of the missing people, all of which were somewhat familiar to them, and they found the source that supplied the Charlatan with all the information to begin with: a simple flash drive. God, did Yeosang yell, a simple flash drive was what brought so many people to their demise? The hacker almost laughed out loud at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

But, the strangest part of that flash drive? The chicken scrawl behind it that simply said ‘Loveholic.’

The legend themself, the unknown variable, and, arguably, the reason why the vigilante ban was passed in the first place. But Hongjoong was skeptical, the coincidental intersectionality between the Charlatan and Loveholic just seemed too convenient, like it was set up just perfectly like a trap made for an animal. Call it anxiety, instinct, or experience, Hongjoong knew something was up.

It was just too easy. Everything was laid out already and all they needed now was the person themself. The Charlatan. Whoever they were, they did well in covering their tracks, but with everything they found it was easy to breakdown the main details.

“How much longer do we have to stick around here?” San groans. "We’ve basically checked everywhere already, I don’t think the Charlatan’s here,” San says.

“I agree, I think we’ve exhausted this warehouse,” Yunho says.

“But we have to find them, if they’re not here then we look everywhere else,” Jongho says.

“Shit… maybe we should’ve agreed to let the police help us,” Mingi huffed, stuck in his own thoughts. “This isn’t even finding a needle in a haystack, it’s more like finding a strand of hair in the ocean,” he shakes his head.

“It should be possible with Cypher’s help, right?” Seonghwa asks.

“Maybe, but don’t rely on me only,” Yeosang said worriedly.

“We haven’t checked that one room yet, the one that was locked earlier,” Jongho interjects. “The one of the first floor,” he reminds them all. In the last timeline it was the room where he and Hongjoong found Mingi in but, with Mingi in front of him very not brainwashed, who knew what was in there?

The Charlatan, hopefully.

“What can we do, though? It’s locked,” Mingi says. Everyone stared at him. “What?”

“I’ll handle it,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Let’s just head over there,” he leaves first and everyone follows. On the way, Wooyoung pulled out some kind of multi-tool from his belt and rifled through it until he tugged off a bent and a straight pick just in time for them to reach the room. Carefully, he pressed his ear to the door and pushed both picks in, listening carefully to hear the barrels click into place.

“Do you think he’ll get it?” San asks.

“Shh,” Wooyoung shushes him with a glare.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself if you can’t get it,” Yeosang teases.

“Quiet, I can’t hear the mechanism,” Wooyoung grumbles.

“Maybe I should’ve asked if he knew what he was doing,” San corrects himself.

“Can you all be quiet for two minutes?!” Wooyoung straightens himself suddenly and grabbed onto the handle to balance himself, the knob pushing down and the door swinging open.

“Well would you look at that, it wasn’t even locked anymore,” Yunho deadpans.

“No wonder we couldn’t hear anything either,” Seonghwa sighs.

“It was locked earlier!” Wooyoung argues.

“You didn’t think to maybe check the door knob?” Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Be for real, if I did check it you all still would have made fun of me,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

“Can we go into the room already?” San cuts in.

“Actually, that’s a great idea! Let’s finish investigating the creepy-ass place so we can go home and find the Charlatan tomorrow!” Wooyoung enters the room first and turns the light on, immediately gasping after.

“What?! What happened?!” Mingi runs in after him and nearly bumps into Wooyoung while everyone else filtered in, the air around them going still as all of them realized who was in the room.

The sound of chains dropping to the ground echoed in the room as the figure who was once chained to the chair stood up. The Charlatan’s mask seemed to reflect the scene in front of them with blood dripping down either side of it and trailing along the curves of the mask’s artificial smile. Behind them was an older man who stood tall while clutching onto his cane that sported a noticeably fresh coating of blood.

“How nice of you all to join us, finally,” the old man says. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he says. “My name is Lee Muyeol,” he taps on the handle and, with a short chuckle, he grins. “And I am the Charlatan,” he looked confident. Like he had just won.

But none of them were paying attention to him.

No.

Just the last lackey next to him. The one who, instead of wearing the usual white jumpsuits, sported a black uniform with an encircled A on their right shoulder.

“No…” Jongho’s face fell into despair, something that everyone caught onto. Jongho was clutching onto his wristwatch now, the face of the clock cracking from the pressure he was putting on it alone.

“The Ace of Spades, who knew they were so much closer than I thought? It was a bit hard to break this one in, but they always come around eventually,” Muyeol says. In that moment, Spades pulled out their signature knives, the steel glinting under the light. “Now, the Ace of Clubs was a problem, it was better for me to have just knocked him out and, well, Hearts is already debilitated. Diamonds, though, may he rest in peace,” Muyeol shook his head. “Deal with them for me, Ace of Spades.” Spades readjusted their grip on the knives before flinging both toward the group.

“Disperse!” Hongjoong shouted before everyone ran out of the room. At the flick of their wrists, the knives returned to their owner.

“Twine, god, (Y/N) is a genius!” Yunho marvels.

“Not the time, Yunho!” Everyone shouts.

“Huntsman, focus on the Charlatan,” Hongjoong says.

“Got it,” Seonghwa made distance and loaded his rifle.

“Everyone else, try to hold back,” Hongjoong finishes. Next to him, Jongho adjusts his watch.

“Cheshire! Go!” Jongho shouts. Wooyoung, though confused, nodded his head.

“(Y/N)? Hey, friend!” Wooyoung runs up to Spades first. “Wake the fuck up!” He grips onto his knuckles and right hooks them.

“I said to hold back!” Hongjoong shouts.

“They’ll live, they’re hard headed like that,” San pulls the shield off of his arm and flings it toward the Ace of Spades, Wooyoung catching it with a slight clang as he bashed the front side of it against them. Spades grabbed a hold of the shield and flung it to the side while grabbing onto Wooyoung’s collar. Seonghwa, meanwhile, released the breath he’d been holding and pulled the trigger.

“Spades,” Muyeol’s voice was commanding and Spades released Wooyoung, running toward Muyeol instead. Jongho adjusted his wristwatch.

“Don’t shoot!” He shouts, but he was a second too late.

“No!” Wooyoung lurched forward but he wasn’t fast enough. Instead, he watched Spades take the bullet instead. With a steadying step back, Spades gripped onto their shoulder before steeling themselves.

“Shit…” Hongjoong grit his teeth.

“Some friends you have, Ace of Spades,” Muyeol says. “They just keep hurting you. Beating you. Shooting you. Drowning you,” he looks to Hongjoong. “Abandoning you. Dying on you. You really should get your priorities in check,” he shakes his head.

“Shut the fuck up, old man!” Wooyoung shouts. Behind him, Jongho adjusts his wristwatch.

“Cheshire, on your left!” Jongho shouts. Then, as knives lodged in the ground next to him, Wooyoung bounced back in time for San to grab ahold of his shield again.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” Mingi approached from behind, turning the pistol in his hand to hold onto the barrel while he slammed it down on their mask. Spades pivoted on their heel, bent down low, and swept their leg behind Mingi before pulling their knife out but, before they could throw it, a bullet knocked it out of their hand and Spades’ head whipped to the side, spotting Seonghwa gripping onto his rifle tighter than before. Spades rolled their shoulder out and made their way toward the rest of the group, knives at the ready.

“I guess we kind of are shitty friends,” Yunho says.

“Yunho!” Everyone shouts.

“What? Yeosang said that all the lackeys are still somewhat conscious, it’s like some hypnosis shit,” Yunho argues. Jongho adjusts his wristwatch.

“Hypnosis, right,” Jongho runs a hand through his hair. “Shadow! Keep Spades busy,” Jongho takes a step back and holds his head with his hand and Hongjoong speaks up.

“Jongho, you know something, don’t you?” Hongjoong asks. Jongho looks at him with an expression Hongjoong had never seen on him before, desperation. In front of him, Mingi grabs onto the Ace of Spades and drags them back, gripping onto their arm and slamming them onto the ground.

“(Y/N) is going hate us,” Yeosang cries.

“(Y/N) is going to kill us!” San corrects him.

“Oh, this is so fucked, this is so fucked!” Wooyoung panics. Once again, the knives just barely miss their mark but before Spades could recall them Mingi grabbed onto one of the twines and snapped it in half, all while the second one returned and lodged itself in his back. Spades pushed off of the ground grabbing onto Mingi’s shoulder with one hand and using the momentum to grab onto the knife in his back and pull it out. Jongho, meanwhile, adjusts his watch.

“Huntsman, aim for the second twine,” Jongho says. Hongjoong grabs his shoulder.

“Explain, Timekeeper,” he says firmly. Jongho is shocked into silence and, instead, he adjusts his wristwatch.

“I can’t,” he shakes his head. Then, the sound of a sharp break caught everyone’s attention as Mingi slid to a stop in front of them, clutching onto his arm tightly. San stepped up next, tossing the shield aside and cracking his knuckles.

“Alright, my turn,” he cracks his neck and charges.

“Blackguard, stop!” Jongho shouts.

“Nope, make me,” he catches Spades’ arm and twists it behind their back before kicking them down, but Spades recovers quickly.

“Look at him, he’s just watching,” Yeosang looks at Muyeol.

“We can’t target him, (Y/N) will just take the blows instead,” Seonghwa says.

“I know,” Yeosang mutters. The sound of material breaking caught their attention. The fissures in Spades’ mask were obvious even from their position. Yeosang, helps Mingi up from the floor and supports his weight. Then, something strange, Spades and San are caught at what was like a neck-and-neck finish.

“Shit, when’d you get this strong?” San breaks a sweat but keeps his force steady.

“San, listen to me,” your voice was muffled by the mask.

“Huh?”

“Don’t break concentration, dumbass,” you spoke. “You all came just in time, any longer I think I would have lost it,” you said.

“So, what, you acting?”

“Keep your voice down. If Muyeol suspects one thing the whole place goes down,” you say.

“So why’d you break Mingi’s arm then?”

“I didn’t, you idiot.”

“Then what did we hear?”

“Look at the knife over there, the second one I lost,” San glanced over quickly but, it was obvious, the handle had been crushed. “I’m not so evil I’d break your bones to prove a point, but I need you to make this believable,” you pushed against him and you both stumbled back. San only nodded and shook out his wrists. You pulled out two more knives and spun them in your hands, running toward him and plunging one into a non-vital area of his arm.

“Ouch.”

“Shut up. When you give the signal we all charge Muyeol,” you explained.

“Me?”

“Yup. Break the mask and those other two run. I told them not to tell the others,” San pushed your arm out of the way and you plunged the second knife into his other arm.

“Ouch.”

“Be serious, San,” you said curtly. “As soon as this mask falls off, Seonghwa will take the shot and you and those other two will grab onto Muyeol. He’s confident, but not invincible,” you explained.

“Got it, I trust you, who else knows?” He pushed away from you and picked up his shield.

“The obvious, of course,” he could hear your grin as you grabbed onto the shield and pulled it toward you. San kept his grip strong and he leaned in, other hand readying to uppercut. “Only one of us is crazy enough to come up with this stunt.”

“Jongho, calm down,” Hongjoong grabs Jongho’s hand before he could reach for his watch.

"I can’t,” he says.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Jongho shakes his head slowly at first.

“It is,” Hongjoong said firmer. “Jongho, we’re winning.” Jongho blinks once and, finally, the sound of the mask breaking in half and falling on the floor, followed quickly by a bullet loading into place, followed by Mingi and Wooyoung running forward, and finished by the sound of San’s shield slamming into Muyeol.

“So, basically, I told (Y/N) as soon as they backed out of the plan about it, I’ll admit, the plan was rough around the edges, but I knew it’d work out,” Hongjoong explains.

Now, a few hours and a couple of ex-vigilantes freed from mind control later, everyone sat in your still decimated apartment around the only thing still standing, your dining table. You had turned your TV on for some background noise, but the earlier fight had left visible breaks in the video on the monitor, but it was still largely watchable. And, of course, along the table were boxes of pizza well deserved.

“That’s… insane. And you agreed to do it?” Mingi asks.

“Sure, anything to catch the bad guy,” you jut your thumb to the side, Muyeol sat next to you with a large piece of duct tape sealing his mouth shut, the words ‘Bad Guy’ scrawled messily along the tape. “When I first heard the plan, I was kind of impressed so I wanted to see how it’d go. Plus, I knew there would be insurance if it really backfired,” you glanced at Jongho quickly before looking away.

“Wait, wait, let me get it straight just in case though,” San says. “So, (Y/N) backs out of the plan first?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong answers.

“Then, in front of us, you tell (Y/N) to go somewhere far away and secure?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong repeats.

“But, after we all passed out, you woke (Y/N) up and told them the actual plan?”

“Yes.”

“Which was basically that (Y/N) would walk right into the Charlatan’s trap, get captured, endure hours of torture, become the last resort, get beat up, and then catch the Charlatan?”

“Well, yes, but it was a little more complicated than that.”

“And what if it didn’t work?”

“Like (Y/N) said, we had insurance,” Hongjoong says.

“And what if the Charlatan actually broke them?”

“Did he?” Hongjoong asks while he looks at you.

“I still feel like me,” you shrugged.

“Reckless, that whole plan was just… reckless,” Mingi sounded stressed. “How’s your arm, (Y/N)?”

“Not bad, I just wish I had the brains to not let the bullet hit my dominant arm,” you rolled your eyes.

“The whole plan was dependent on two things, one is that (Y/N) had the mental fortitude to hold out, and the other is that we needed to ensure the Charlatan thought he won, both of which were satisfied,” Hongjoong says.

“And now all that’s left is to turn the sucker in,” Wooyoung claps his hands. “Vigilantes will be loved again!” He says hopefully.

“Well… not exactly,” Yunho shakes his head. He points toward the TV.

“This just in, the reward for turning in rogue vigilantes has been significantly increased to garner more incentive among the general public. Please check the police department’s website to see the updated reward amounts,” the newscaster said.

“Aww, man, what the hell?!” Wooyoung cries.

“We’ll just never be in a good light for them, huh?!” San laments.

“After all the shit we went through? Are they serious?” Mingi’s voice was dejected.

“They really just hate us, huh?” Yeosang mutters.

“Wait, I thought we had a deal with the police?” Seonghwa asks.

“There wasn’t a deal, I told professor Jung that we weren’t interested, so we never got any protection from the police force,” Hongjoong explained. “Which, in hindsight, maybe it would have been nice so we wouldn’t have had to deal with this headache, but I digress.”

“But maybe they’ll be kind when we hand over the serial killer!” Yunho bargains.

“No, we will definitely be arrested on the spot,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “Property damage, reckless endangerment, probably manslaughter, and who knows what else? We’re felons, Yunho.”

“Way to take the fun out of our victory,” Yunho frowns.

“It’s so shitty that this is how the city still treats us,” San grumbles.

“Again, if I may direct your attention to the TV,” Yunho cuts in.

“… but despite the increased rewards, many citizens were seen voicing their support for the vigilantes and even showing excitement in regards to the newest team-up of vigilantes we’d recently seen. Could this be the stepping stone to a new era?”

“Oh, I take it back,” San whistles. “I guess we did good, huh?” He grins.

“It’ll be slow, but I can see vigilantes being accepted once again,” Jongho says.

“Wait, but I still have a couple questions,” Mingi says. “About the new plan, I mean.”

“Fire away,” Hongjoong invites him to continue.

“Wait, yeah!” Wooyoung cuts in. “Why didn’t you tell any of us? I had to hear the details while (Y/N) beat the shit out of me.”

“Beat the shit out of you? Did you see me?!” Mingi points at himself.

“Wait, breaking the knife handle was so clever,” Seonghwa says.

“I know, right?” Mingi smiles. “(Y/N) was like ‘I’ll break the handle on this so pretend I broke you arm’ and I was like ‘metal, okay.’”

“I can’t believe I had no idea,” Jongho shakes his head.

“(Y/N) and I decided to keep it on a need to know basis to ensure that everything went smoothly. Like I said, we had to be certain that the Charlatan thought he won,” Hongjoong explains.

“I didn’t even have a clue until Hongjoong told me right after I fired the first shot,” Seonghwa shook his head.

“Shit… now that’s saying something,” Yunho crosses his arms.

“Any other questions before we bury this hatchet?” Hongjoong asks.

“Yeah,” Yeosang rose his hand. “What is this insurance you keep talking about? Vigilante insurance? What does it cover?”

“It’s not literal insurance, I meant Jongho,” Hongjoong nods his head toward the youngest member.

“Oh, why?” Yeosang asks.

“I’m a time traveller,” Jongho says absently.

“Oh, fun,” Yeosang grabs a slice of pizza. “Wait… what the hell did you just say?!”

“I’m a time traveller,” Jongho points at his wristwatch. “With this device I can go back to any point in my timeline that I had it.”

“Yeah? Prove it then,” San insists. Jongho adjusts his wristwatch.

“On your left, Mingi,” he says without looking. Mingi moves to the right just in time for the overhead light to fall and just barely graze Mingi’s right arm.

“… whoa,” Mingi gasps. “You’re a time traveller.”

“Yes. Although I had no idea of the plan either.”

“Need to know basis,” Hongjoong repeats. “(Y/N) said that if all went wrong, then you’d fix it,” Hongjoong looks to Jongho.

“They’re right, I would have. I’ve been trying since forever now, actually, but this time I have a good feeling,” Jongho nods.

“Wait, forever? How long have you known how to time travel?!” Yeosang asks.

“A while.”

“How long is a while?” San asks.

“Who knows?”

“You know!” Yunho shouts.

“But do I really?”

“Yes!” Mingi’s turn. “Wait, now I need like a rundown on how time travel works.”

“Sure, I guess,” Jongho takes a deep breath and starts to explain all the details, maybe too many details, and after the first hour of the explanation, it was clear the others had had enough. “Then, using this specific metal, I was able to avoid the radar of the Sectors, long story, took forever to escape that prison, so—”

“Breaking news! The Charlatan has been turned in as of right now!” The newscaster’s voice was loud and, suddenly, everyone turned to the head of the table, seeing two chairs empty, and soon they were in front of the TV. “Just moment’s ago, the Ace of Spades came to the precinct with Lee Muyeol, father of the late Ace of Diamonds Lee Jeno, in hand and explained to the officers the situation. Despite earlier sightings, the Ace of Spades insisted that they found the Charlatan on their own and they turned him in even knowing that there were orders to have them arrested as soon as they were found. Now that’s vigilante justice! The Ace of Spades, identity still kept a secret, is now on their way to a highly secured prison made especially for vigilantes. More on this story as it is updated.”

“That crafty little…” Yunho trails off.

“(Y/N) took the fall for us…” Mingi says in awe.

“(Y/N) took the credit from us!” San corrects him.

“(Y/N) is in jail for us!” Yeosang gasps.

“I’m more concerned of when they slipped out,” Jongho mumbles as he removes his wrist watch. “I never thought that they’d do that for us,”

“But… we’re definitely breaking them out, right?” Seonghwa asks.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Hongjoong nods.

“What's the plan, boss?” Wooyoung smiles.

“Operation 2 of the…” Hongjoong waits for someone to finish his sentence.

“Team name! Time to brainstorm a team name! (Y/N) is just going to have to deal with whatever name we choose since they’re not here to add input!” Wooyoung says.

“Any ideas?” Hongjoong asks. Everyone’s silent.

“How about…” Jongho hums. “ATEEZ?” He offers. He is met with silence.

“What does that even mean?” San shakes his head in confusion.

“I was trying to incorporate the A’s on our uniform.”

“To be fair and transparent with you guys, the A is actually there because I wanted the discount, if I added a letter then I saved like 40% on the group order,” Yunho says.

“Really?” Seonghwa grimaces.

“I’m the Broker, I need to make a profit somehow,” Yunho scoffs, lighting the fuse for another entirely tangential debate.

“We still need a name, guys,” Hongjoong refocuses the topic and, as everyone begun to brainstorm possible ideas, the news continued on.

“Meanwhile, any vigilante still active or newly active are to be considered outlaws. As accordance to the vigilante ban, you must report anything and anyone related to vigilante justice,” the newscaster says.

And it was like a lightbulb had turned on.

Sitting inside your prison cell shouldn’t have been this peaceful. It was cold, bleak, the walls were white and the wall in front of you a perfect clear. Bulletproof, powerproof, lifeproof, nothing was getting through that glass. The only way in and out was the door to the side, highly secured, padded, locked, probably trapped. You didn’t want to try it. Ironically enough, this was the most relaxed you’d ever been. Your conscious had never felt more clear and a weight had been removed from your shoulders. Even if you’d never go back to your vigilante life, you did the right thing in the end. You turned in the monster that had been killing your friends and hurting much others. Maybe this would be a good way to start your retirement? Twenty years of reflection. You looked up at the ceiling. At least you had a safe place to stay, guaranteed three meals a day, and even a somewhat comfortable bed.

You didn’t know what to do next, you didn’t know much actually, but what you did know was that you owed so much to those eight boys. You couldn’t, in good faith, let them get arrested after that whole ordeal. If anyone was going to turn this whole Vigilante Ban around, it was them. And if so many timelines had been doomed because of you interference then maybe that was some kind of sign for you that it was time to hang up the costume for good. After your sentence maybe you’d move to a new country and start a new life, or something romantic like that. Your future was in your hands now and you couldn’t wait to see what those eight will do in the future, you were definitely going to keep tabs on them anyway.

“Stay in your place, inmate, don’t make any sudden movements or we will sedate you,” the guard suddenly orders. You looked at him without moving.

“Sure,” you responded. The door behind him opened and the last person you’d ever expected to see walked in. The guard excused himself and exited the room, locking the door behind him.

Professor Jung, meanwhile, sat across from you, with nothing but the glass wall separating you two.

“Well, well, so you’re the fantastic Ace of Spades,” he says. You rose an eyebrow.

“Expecting someone else, Professor? Someone more remarkable, no doubt,” you nodded.

“Oh, no, you’re perfect,” he smiles.

“How’d you figure it out? I could’ve been anyone.”

“I’ve always known. Who do you think appealed the courts to keep your identity a secret?” He asks, not expecting an answer. He looks up at the camera. Within moments, it sparks and dies. You sat up now, more alert than before. “Don’t worry, that wasn’t me,” he says. “Friend of mine, though, I’m afraid I’m very limited in time, so I’ll make this quick,” he stands up and approaches the door, easily pushing it open at the swipe of his key card. You stand up now too, taking steadying steps back. “Relax, relax, I’m not here to hurt you, rather, I want to make you an offer,” he says.

“I’m listening.”

“Your little team up, I’m impressed, you’re a very good team player, but really, you’re always on the sidelines, aren’t you, (Y/N)?” He makes sure to emphasize your name. “The Aces and this new team of vigilantes, why do you allow your talents to go hidden for so long?” He asks.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sir,” you reply.

“I want to hire you, (Y/N),” he says. “I want to have you lead an elite team I’m putting together, and I think you’ll be rather fond of your position,” he says. “You’ll have funding, of course. Provided by me through a third party to ensure both of our safeties,” he adds.

“Why me, sir?”

“Why you? I told you already. You’re perfect,” he repeats. “I should specify that these jobs you’ll be taking on, they’re not exactly stellar, they won’t be as clean as the Charlatan mission was,” he says.

“Ah, so it’s not that I’m perfect, I’m replaceable,” you corrected him.

“You could put it that way,” Jaehyun hums. “I’d say that you’re just good at your work. I’ve followed your movements for a while now, and after observing you in this operation, I had to give you this offer.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you stay here, serve the rest of your twenty year sentence,” he shrugs. “Or, you come work for me.”

“What kind of jobs will I be doing?”

“Anything, but you’d mainly be working on assassinations,” he answers almost too casually. You narrowed your glance.

“I refuse your offer,” you answered quickly. “I do many things, but I don’t kill,” you say. Jaehyun lowers his glance.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, (Y/N). You’ve killed, many people, you just don’t want to accept it,” he says. You didn’t answer. “Plus, I think you’ll be interested in who your first target is. Don’t you want your closure?” He asks. You pressed your lips together. “Blackguard. He needs to be removed from the picture,” Jaehyun says. You remain silent. “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N), I know you know. Choi San killed Eric, don’t you want some justice for that?” He asks.

“I do,” you answer. “But not this way.”

“Hm, maybe I read you wrong then,” Jaehyun sighs.

“It’s too early to make any moves anyway,” you muttered. “Why do you want him gone?”

“Lets just say he didn’t just kill one person, (Y/N),” Jaehyun says with an elusive smile. “Of course, if Blackguard is off the table, I have a list of others instead. If you agree to work with me, I’m sure we’ll be a wonderful team,” he offers once again. You looked around your cell. “If you really think about it, it’s not as different as what you were doing before, only now you get a salary,” he says.

“Ah… what the hell, beats spending twenty years in here,” you sighed. “When do I start?”

“Immediately,” he says. “Any questions?” He asks.

“You still haven’t answered mine,” you say. “Why me?” Jaehyun looks to the ground for a moment.

“Have you heard of that saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” He asks. You nodded your head. He walks up to you and holds his hand out for a handshake. “I know you have me completely figured out, and I can’t afford to have you loose while I know this,” he says. You stared at his hand, thinking back to everything you’d learned over the course of the last few weeks. You did have him figured out. “So, what do you say, Spades? Do you actually accept my offer?” He asks. So, he knew you were lying. To be fair, you were planning on making a break as soon as you stepped foot out of this facility, but if your hunch was right then you knew better than to chance that.

“If I refuse… you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” You ask. Jaehyun smiles. “Well then… I accept your offer, Loveholic.” Without another word, you shook his hand.

The Outlaws and the Ace of Spades will return in ‘Out of Sight.’

Ending Author's Note:

Hello, hi, hey, everyone! Holy shit, I finished this bad boy. After, drum roll please, 352 pages, and a grand total of 98,500 words (holy shit!) Without a Trace is officially finished!! I cannot believe that I actually finished it lmao but here we are with a completed fic! My second completed fic altogether (minus Covalence, which was released originally as a oneshot).

I started this fic like, what, two years ago? I know she's an oldie, this one, not old enough to be on the old blog but definitely old enough. So to those who stuck around, thank you! And to those who just joined, thank you again! I couldn't have finished this fic without you all and for that I'm thankful! I can't wait to tap into another ATEEZ fic soon, though, y'all know I love writing content for them!

But, regardless, thank you to all of you who supported this series! I am so thankful for all of you for taking time to read this little fic of mine. Who knows what I'll work on now lol, but I don't think Out of Sight will be released in a while, or at least until I complete another series, but y'all will see once it's out!

Until then, thank you. I hope you're all having a wonderful day, a safe night, and a fun summer!

Love Always, Crys

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic

Without a Trace: @naiify @sunsethw4 @leesalts @toxic-babexe

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fics #ateez x you #ateez x yn #ateez vigilante au #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #my writings #without a trace

90 notes · View notes