Ambw book.
"I hate you. I hate you with all my heart, Kim Namjoon."
"You might hate me, but you love this dick fucking into you right now, Miss Abara."
An Asian Man, Black Woman story.
Enemies to Lovers Dialogue.
Mature Content.
Contains: Strong Lan...
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Chapter 1: The Encounter.
"Ah, what the fuck!?" You yelled as you were thrown into a metal chair. There was a black potato sack over your head and your wrist were tied up from the back. The agony from your throbbing head and burning wrist made you wince. All you could see was darkness, no light illuminating through the bag.
You were tied up in your sport shorts and a tight, black, tank top. Your curly fro was pressed from the impact of the bag. Your socks and shoes weren't on do to the fact you were kidnapped in your own home by men.
Gross.
"Shut up. Make it easier than what it has to be." A deep voice man said, tying your legs to the chair as you hear a door open and close. You were angry, tired, and off your medication so you're emotions were spiraling everywhere.
"Oh, sir. You need to be the one who should be shutting the fuck up. You just kidnapped me and tied me up." You gasped, dramatically. "Oh my god, are you a sex trafficker?"
"W-what? No!" The man stuttered, blushing from the shocking assumption.
"Not gonna lie, man. This is very kinky. Tying a woman up to a chair? You didn't even take me out to dinner yet. Rude." You joked, laughing hysterically as you lean your head back.
"C-can you shut the fuck up, lady?" He said, anger radiating through his voice.
"Taehyung, chill." Another deep voice called out. You heard a sigh which you believe was the Taehyung guy and finished his knot on your ankle. He stood up and stood on your right side.
"Yeah Taehyung, chill yo little bitch boy having ass down somewhere." You smirked.
"Angela, quit it." The other man announced.
You gasped again. "You know my name? Have we met before? Wait...are you Jake from State Farm?"
"What? No. Just...just be quiet and listen." The man said, pulling out a chair in front of you. Assuming there was a table between you two, a gush of air brushes your breast as you heard papers flop on a metal surface.
"What's the magic word?"
"W-what?"
"What's the magic word, Mister other sex trafficker." You said, leaning your head back on the chair again. "I swear to god, niggas don't got manners these days."
"Just be quiet." He sighed, adjusting himself in his seat.
"No, say it." You pout.
A long sigh escape his mouth as he gulps. "Please,"
