#Pairing: Butterfly Effect

[crimescrimson]

James Sunderland & Maria in Silent Hill 2 (2024)

[todayisafridaynight]

aren’t we getting kiwami 3 eventually? why are some people so upset? /gen

TECHNICALLY rgg just said they'd LIKE to make a YK3, they never said it's a definite plan or it'd happen anytime soon: it depends on if mine's voice actor can come back to reprise his role

as for why some people are upset ermmmmm good question!

[malachitezmeyka]

You ever have your narrative haunted by a character who isn’t even yours

[pennjammin]

geeked up.

you fucked around and snuck him an aphrodisiac, so now all you’ve got to do is survive until the effects wear off!

content: smut, established relationships, bondage, edging, overstim, degrading, oral sèx, public sèx, exhibitionism, drüg/alcohol use, afab!reader, gn!reader on nanami, spit kink, masochism

incl pairings: kento, toji, satoru, suguru

word count. 8.3k

soundtrack 🌧️💿: sativa ft. swae lee

COCK THAT TEA / NANAMI.

A cup of hot tea. That's all Nanami had requested.

The lemon stimulant you’d mixed into the drink had made him wrap up his work early, clamoring downstairs, his eyes glassy with desire.

"Darling," he breathes out, staring at the floor, holding the cup in his shaky hand. "Are you busy?”

He’s so polite about it. At first.

“What ever is the matter, Ken?” you question, running your cleaning rag in slow circles over the dining room table, standing on your toes as you stretch across the surface. “I’m trying to clean.”

He nearly growls, eyes shutting and reopening with frustration. His fingers flutter at his side like butterfly wings and he takes a step towards you.

“I need to be inside of you,” he blurts, looking momentarily embarrassed before his face darkens, then he looks up at you with viper eyes.

“Right now?” you fake your surprise, walking around the table to stand in front of him. “But the dining room is so filthy…” You watch as his nostrils flare; he’s clearly taking in your scent.

“You know I would never force you,” he grits out, voice choked. “But also - mmh - p-pretty please?”

His arms come up, either side of you, and he moves to pin your body between himself and the table. He releases the teacup on the table and his fingertips grip onto the surface so harshly that his nails make tiny imperfections in the wood.

“My God, are you feeling alright?” you stall, pressing the back of your hand to his flushed forehead. “You look unwell.”

“I feel unwell, baby,” he says, tone serious and apologetic. “I feel like I might die if I can’t put my cock in you. That is unreasonable.”

Even as he says the words, it’s clear in his eyes that he doesn’t care how irrational it is. He wants to act on his urges so badly.

You rest your hand over the painful lump in his pants. “Is that so?”

“No, please don’t,” he breathes. “D-Don’t wanna lose my control…”

“You won’t,” you purr, slipping his zipper down. “You’re gonna be good and let me take care of you for once, ‘kay?”

His shoulders visibly slump a bit as the pressure from his hard cock is released by his unzipped pants. You take it a step further and dip your fingernails underneath the waistband of his Calvin’s, softly scratching over the blond happy trail.

“No, no,” Nanami’s head falls onto your shoulder, full body shudders coming out of him.

“I’m just trying to help, Ken,” you quip, rolling your eyes, moving to pull your hand out; but in the same beat his large hand clamps around your wrist and shoves it down deeper.

He jerks forward against you, a whine for help coming out of his mouth and landing breathily in your ear canal. You try not to shudder yourself, wanting to maintain the facade that you’re in control.

“Please, just take it out,” he begs.

How could you deny him? Your usually composed, control-taking husband is begging you for something. It breaks your heart as much as it nearly makes you cream your undies.

"Alright," you say calmly, clamping your fist around his shaft, squeezing harshly as you remove it from its barrier.

Nanami whispers gratefully in your ear - over and over - until it fades into moans, because of you sliding the pad of your thumb over his oh-so sensitive cockhead, spreading his precum all over the throbbing skin.

You have his heartbeat in your palm. You feel it racing faster with each stroke of your finger. The organ jerks in response and so does Nanami.

His hips begin to mindly grind back and forth, his torso rubbing yours, hardening your nipples and exposing your arousal.

You let his length slide in and out of your fist, and his hands grip onto your breasts like they can save him from ruin. His hair has fallen down around his head, sweat ruining his gelled style. He looks so desperate.

You'd only wanted to see if the aphrodisiac would remove some of his patience. He's always so kind, slow, gentle. You were writhing to see him lose control, have his way with you, rough you up. You’d hardly expected it to turn him this submissive and needy.

Fwip! Fwip! The sound of your top disappearing makes you gasp. You’d gotten too lost in thought and allowed him to get your shirt off, leaving you in just underwear.

Your thighs turn in on themselves, but they’re no match for his strength. It’s as if you'd let a feral panther out of its cage, his nails clawing at the waistband, threatening to shred it as his hips pick up speed.

On a whim, you release his shaft and put your palm to his tip, running it over the shiny pink skin. Nanami’s neck nearly snaps back. You rotate your palm over the tip and rip! his iron grip accidentally tears your underwear off.

He doesn’t notice, as he maintains his grip on the fabric with his eyes closed. He freezes in place as you violate his sensitive tip and the underside.

“Agh - shit, shit, nonono…” Nanami spits out.

Until finally he’s had enough.

In exactly three movements, he has your spine curved painfully against his torso, hand clasping a handful of your hair and pulling it against his chest, your shredded undies fallen somewhere on the floor. His groans in your ear are wet and raunchy, coming from the depths of his throat.

His cock pushes through your soaking ring of muscle, sliding through the ridges until it rams into your cervix. He has no regard for your pain level, punishing you even as tears brim your eyes. His hand cracks harshly on your asscheek, before scratching the sensitive skin and making you scream.

"My love, you feel so fucking good.” The lewd words leave his lips in an uncharacteristic way.

You want to roll your hips in time with his but he releases your hair and brings his hand around to cup your neck - faltering you as he thrusts deeper, the painfully solid cock violating your walls. If not for your pussy flooding the veiny organ, your entrance would be raw from the harsh stroking and lack of regard for your pleasure.

With a release of your throat, Nanami's hand moves to the back of your head and forces it down against the table, cheek pressed to the wood. You look at the abandoned drink at the other end. Now you’re watching as the cold liquid ripples through the teacup with each rhythmic thrust of your husband splitting you from hole to hole.

“F-Fuck, Ken, take it easy,” you whine, knowing it’s a full fib.

You want him deeper than he already is, cock bottomed out, heavy balls sticking to your clit each time he goes all the way in. Your internal organs feel like they’re being bent out of shape, pressure in your belly a bit painful, but mostly exhilarating.

“I-I can’t, baby,” Nanami grunts from above. “Your pussy has me so out of control.”

You decide to admit, in a sultry moment of regret what you’d done. Your pussy can’t take all the credit for making him this feral, can it? Nanami doesn’t respond much, but his cock begins to take it out on you.

His veins pop from his wrists as he pushes your head further into the wood, cheek squishing in on itself, muffling your sobs.

He moans in response to his new rhythm, grunting your name over and over, mixed with naughty minx, take me, feel good?, mhmm.

He hikes his hips at an upward angle and the new spot he's hitting is foul, causing you to scream so loud the noise reverberates off of the walls.

You put a leg up, knee to the edge of the table for stability. Your arms stretch across the surface and you feel drool trickle out of your mouth - your mind so fucked out that you can't even bring yourself to moan.

"Where's my spouse?" Nanami questions rhetorically, shoving a deep thrust in you while cracking his palm on your stinging asscheek. "Why can't I hear them?"

You swallow, trying to stop some of the drool, attempting to answer him but all that comes out is a guttural cry for mercy.

Nanami pretends not to hear it, and runs his nails along your pretty arched back.

His fingers yank your head in the direction of his old cup, “Be sure to look at what got you into this ordeal, dear. Stimulants in my tea, really?”

Your moans return when you feel the pool of fire deep within your belly, and Nanami feels you fluttering your walls around him in an attempt to fight off the orgasm. But he recognizes your moans all too well, so he drills his hips harder to push it out of you.

"Ken! No!" you cry, trying to hold it off, but just before you release he's spilling his own hot spurts into you.

You feel each rope hit the opening to your cervix and your cunt sends you into the harshest orgasm you've had your entire marriage; your one leg that remained on the floor giving out, leaving you to dangle on the edge of the table.

But Nanami's strokes show no sign of slowing down. You feel the veins in his cock drumming against your slick ridges, and his length remains solid.

“Mm, so much wetter now,” he notes, his cum nearly sticking his balls to to your clit every time he shoves his groin against your ass.

The noise that comes from your cum mixing together as lubricant is so nasty; it makes your toes curl as you lay on your stomach and continue to take the pain.

You’ll spend the rest of the evening begging him for mercy and not receiving it. When you think he’s finally done, he carryies you upstairs, telling you that he’s going to give you a massage to calm your strained legs.

But when you end up on your side as Nanami stuffs you full of kids for the sixth or seventh time, you realize the massage had been part of his plan, and he gives no hint that he’s near finished with you.

KNOTTY BOY / TOJI.

Toji had arrived home from work right on schedule. You'd been in the middle of preparing breakfast for dinner, the kitchen smelling of bacon grease and syrup.

He'd come in and given you a quick kiss, then disappeared to the back of the apartment to shower.

While he was gone, you'd finished cooking, and loaded his plate up with sausage, bacon, and eggs. Then, you plopped a tower of pancakes in the leftover space. This is when you ripped open a packet of honey from the gas station. You'd seen it on the counter one day whilst getting snacks and, you were curious to see if the rumors were true.

You’d felt a twinge of guilt as you drizzled the honey all over his pancakes and then hid your naughty work by covering it with maple syrup. It almost felt like drugging him, but you knew it wasn’t, and the worst that’ll happen is consensual rounds of sex. You’d disposed of the empty wrapper in the trash just in time.

Toji comes back from his shower with damp hair and oily skin, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that cling low on his v-line. Your chest heats in response, but you maintain an innocent smile as you pad over to him with his dinner.

He sits down at the kitchen table, ready to dive into your delicious meal with a thankful grunt.

"Not hungry?" he questions, noticing that you remain standing behind him, rubbing some of the tension from his shoulders.

"I had a heavy lunch," you lie. "How was work?"

Toji pokes his fork into a sausage link before bringing it to his mouth, "Hot. Annoying. Lil' bitch Shiu was moaning about his sunburn all day."

You giggle, observing the darker shade on Toji's skin from where he has the privilege of tanning instead of frying in the sun. He's glowing like a cinnamon roll coated in sweet icing, and you want to drag your tongue over his moisturized torso.

"Well, least you're home now," you kiss his cheek. "I missed you. I hate when you have to work such long shifts."

He sighs. "Gotta do what I gotta do, puss. Have ta'make sure you have everything you want."

"That so?" you coo. "There’s something I want right now."

Toji reaches for the cup of orange juice you'd poured for him, thick eyebrow raised, “Spit it out.”

"Have you ever considered letting me tie you up? You know, 'stead of the other way around?" The words are out before you can stop them, and you're immediately writhing in regret when there's silence for several moments.

Toji takes a sip of the juice, and then turns to face you. "Needy brat, you thinkin' about tying me up while I'm tryin'a eat?"

You tap your fingers on his traps, trying to build a shovel to dig yourself out of this hole. "Actually, I've been thinking about it all day," you admit. "I was just worried you might be too tired for… you know."

His fork pokes into the pancake stack. You’re overcome with a sense of urgency. The minute he ingests the honey, the timer begins.

Toji chuckles and tilts his head awkwardly, rolling his neck. "You know I would never let you go to bed without a couple of nuts, ma." He takes a big bite of the cakes. "Didn't expect that, though.”

"O-Only if you want, of course," you throw out quickly, suddenly more nervous.

Toji swallows and turns to wrap an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body as he sticks his fork back into his food. "If you're gonna be in control, ya can't backtrack. Gotta stand on business.”

You swallow, "Well, unlike you, I need your compliance because I can't just throw you around like you weigh nothing."

Toji's body shakes against you as he takes another bite of pancake. You know the effects take a bit to kick in, but you aren't sure how much time you have left now.

"Would like to see you try to throw me around, though,” he says before adding, “do ya even know how to tie a knot, lil’ girl?”

"Of course," you say, offended. "I've watched you plenty of times."

"Usually while you're already on your second orgasm and cockdrunk, but..." he shrugs, "we'll see.”

You part from him, allowing him to finish his dinner as you collect the ropes from the closet. You untangle them as you wait. You're buzzing with excitement, blood pumping through your ears and your cunt, as you can already imagine his large torso being pierced with puffy red marks from the ropes digging into his baby-soft skin.

You're just about ready to drag him away from the kitchen by his ears when Toji finally comes into the room, sucking leftover syrup off of his thumb, eyeballing you.

"Mm, did you do something different to the pancakes, puss?" he questions. "Might be a new favorite of mine."

You smile and shrug. "Nope, don't think so." 

He buys it, or if he doesn't, he doesn't press the topic further. Instead his eyes travel over the wooden chair in the center of your bedroom.

“Welp, let the games begin,” he says, holding out his arms as he releases himself to be at your mercy.

Around ten minutes later, his sits with his arms pinned behind his back. His torso is attached to the back of the chair while his ankles are bound to the legs.

“Well done,” Toji grunts, attempting to tug on the ropes and being unsuccessful in loosening the knots. “My lil’ brat does pay attention.”

You lean over him, putting your hands on his shoulders. His cock has definitely hardened by now, sitting pretty in his lap as you’d requested he take his shorts off before being tied up.

You watch as his thighs flex and his cock jerks up, tip glistening under the warm lighting in your bedroom.

“Agh, fuck,” he spits. “Show me what you got, dollface.”

You continue to stand, fingers linked together in front of you, implying you have no intention of touching him. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.

“Brat, don’t piss me off,” he grunts, a vein in his neck throbbing as he tilts his neck, fighting harder against his restraints now.

You giggle innocently and bring your knee up to the meeting of his thighs, ghosting it over his light brown tip. “You doing okay there?”

His eyes flutter closed, beads of sweat appearing on his brow line just under his hair. “Fuck. Stop doing that shit.”

“Or what?” you taunt, knowing he’s trapped.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” he threatens, but he can’t help but let out a delicious grunt when you glide your knee up his wanton shaft - back down again.

“What is it you always call me?” you tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “Needy whore.”

“Fuck you,” he grits, fists balled up behind him. You see his fingers attempting to reach the bottom of the knot but to no avail. He has no way out of this and he knows it. You’re watching the aphrodisiac kick into his system in real time.

His pupils expand when he looks up at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, and his bottom lip is underneath his teeth.

“Okay, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes. You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it slowly past your stomach, then over your chest. You shake your tits in his face, and he leans forward, snapping his teeth, like a shark threatening to take a chomp out of your flesh.

“Quit playing with me, Y/N,” he says sharply. “I’mma fuck you up. Bruise your little uterus so bad.”

“Would love to see you try,” you crack, pulling the fabric off your head and shaking your hair free. You know just how bad your hair turns him on, how much he enjoys nearly ripping it from your scalp as he delivers painful backshots.

He jerks against the chair, causing you to jump a little. You turn around and sit on his lap.

Toji’s entire body stiffens. “God, why is my shit so sensitive?” The sentence comes out breathy, almost whiny. Toji never allows himself to switch, but you feel you may have unlocked the ten percent of him that likes to be submissive.

“What did you do?” he goes on. “You did something to me - fuck.”

And the moment you'd come clean, you were already bouncing deliciously on his cock, watching as he squirmed against his restraints and cussed in your ear.

"You're fuckin' dead," he keeps saying, before giving up and breaking into a pathetic little, "fu-uck. Mmh, yeah, ride me baby. Gonna fill you up."

"No you're not," you say, noting how his cock begins to twitch and using your knees to lift yourself up and slide it out of you, leaving your cunt pulsing with ache.

"What the fuck - get back here," he growls. His arms pull against the ropes, and you fear at any moment they're going to pop.

"This is payback, Toji." You look at your nails and then sit yourself back down, facing him with your cunt touching his cock but not allowing him the pleasure of being inside of it. "All those times you overstimulate me, or edge me.”

You lean forward and kiss him on the nape of his neck. He howls, jerking his cock up against you for even the slightest bit of pleasure.

You're just about to drag your teeth across the prominent vein in his neck when a terrifying shred! sound enters the air.

You sit up straight and stare down at Toji in horror, but his face has twisted into a sinister, knowing smile.

"You fucked up, you know that?" he questions, and before you can scramble off of his lap, his arms are around your body, capturing you against his chest.

The next few seconds are a blur. Before you can blink or breathe, the tip of Toji’s cock feels like it’s inside your intestines, your back against your bedroom door as he fucks you against it.

“A honey packet like I’m some booty call?” Toji gripes, drilling his hips into you so mean, that all you can do is slap your hands on his back for mercy. “‘Bout to turn your pussy inside out, demon brat.”

“Toji! Please,” you cry, trying to spread your legs on either side of his hips to make it feel like he isn’t going so deep, but his cockhead is so slick and fat that it’s threatening to crack you open.

His body being covered in oil is not working to your advantage. Your hands are sliding off of him, until you finally give up and take your hands in his hair, and he increases his speed because of it.

“I oughta chain you to the bed with a vibrator on your clit,” he threatens. “Since you wanna play with me. Fuck. So fucking creamy, ma.” His head falls to stare at your cunt as his cock drills in and out of it, white substance layering on his groin and between your folds.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” you whine into his ear, “o-ooh. Shit.”

“‘Sorry baby,’” Toji mocks. “Yeah. ‘M sorry too. Sorry that you ain’t gonna be able to walk for a few days. Hold on tight, brat.”

SHOOT MY STEAM / GETO.

"Baby, can you pass me my bottle?"

The sentence you've been waiting to hear for about thirty minutes now.

You're at the gym with your boyfriend. You've been resting on the bench, watching him do his sets, waiting for him to ask for his water.

Suguru knows you always mix in his electrolyte packets for him, only this time, you'd found a convenient aphrodisiac powder to put inside instead. You wanted to see just how hot and sweaty he could really get with it flowing through his veins while he trained.

Only one issue with that: you’d accidentally forgotten about putting it in there, so you’d taken a fat swig a while back and now you’re paying for it as you sit and watch him.

"C'mon, monk, back on your feet," he says, taking a deep breath after chugging some of his water. He places it next to you and then reaches his hands out to help you stand. "'M gonna lose motivation if you're not up with me."

You swallow thickly and force a smile, before taking his hands and rising back up to follow him to the weights. Your body is tingling, cunt ripe with desire.

You decide to do some lunges to distract yourself while Suguru works on the lat pulldown, and you stare with heat in your chest as his back muscles flex under the cut-off sleeves of his shirt.

You think about your nails sliding over the sweaty skin to incite dangerous growls from your boyfriend, making him fall apart as he pumps you full of dick. Your head spins.

You attempt to shake the thoughts away and continue lunging until he finishes his pulldowns. When he stands, an erection is painfully obvious in his shorts.

He walks over to you, voice low. "Well, I guess this means I'm doing good," he comments, pointing to his new friend, and then gesturing to you. "It's also probably because your legs are looking good, angel. Damn."

You giggle and walk to drop off the weights. "Are you gonna be able to keep working out with... that?" You’re mostly asking for yourself, because if you’re forced to sit here and watch him workout with a boner, you may combust.

Suguru glances at himself in the mirror, rolling his shoulder blades. "It'll go away in a second. It's just all the blood pumping through me."

You blink. Your self control is dwindling but you try to redirect your focus. "'Kay, well I'll be over here starting some squats."

Suguru nods and pulls you in for a sweaty kiss, "Alright, love you."

God, you wish he hadn’t done that. Now everywhere his body touched you feels like a thousand needles. You want to grab him the minute he attempts to pull away, but you’re frozen in place, the fuzzy memory of his sweaty lips on yours making your panties damper.

And the next twenty minutes are history. You watch as Suguru loses more and more of his focus, his painful erection never coming close to dying. He slows down in his workouts, his eyes lingering on you much longer than before. You even watch him blink harshly, attempts running futile at pushing away his feelings. Then at last, he comes to collect you.

Now, you know it's a little unsanitary to be laid out over the sauna bench, Suguru leaning over you as steam and sweat drip from his locks.

You also don't care. The lust in his eyes, the furrow in his brow from where he doesn't understand why he couldn't wait to get home to do this is making your pussy throb around him.

"Fuck me," Suguru’s eyes roll back as he brings one of your slippery legs over his chiseled hip, sides of his cock gliding against your internal ridges. “Feels too fucking good, monk.”

All you can do is whine in response, as the subtle curve in Suguru’s dick causes it to poke the squishy roof of your tunnel. Your arms are trying to hold onto him, but with the steam, the two of you are just sweaty, wet bodies gliding against each other.

His abs rub over your belly and sensitive nipples, and he takes in the way each grind makes you gasp a little harder than before.

"F-fuck, Suguru," you whimper.

"Hah - ngh," he growls in your ear. "Don't say my name like that."

"S-Suguru," you repeat, feeling his nails attempt to dig into your skin before his fingers slide over your wet hips. "Wanna feel your cum."

He shakes his head, slinging water all over your face until you’re envisioning it being his warm semen instead. "N-No, feels too good, don't wanna cum yet."

You continue pushing him. "Cum for me, please?"

"No," Suguru spits, the end coming out breathy as he tries to compose himself.

"Please fill me up," you keep going, knowing that he won't be able to even if he tries.

"Baby," Suguru whines pathetically, but his strokes have noticeably gotten sloppier, needier. "Y-You have to stop."

You shake your head defiantly, before you crash your sweaty lips onto his. You moan against his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth, piercing pressure onto it. His lips part as he continues slipping in and out of you.

Your bodies roll to the side on the sauna bench and continue going at it.

“Can’t get enough,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So wet for me, angel.”

It’s not long before you’re practically shoving him off of you, pussy sore and swollen. But he keeps holding you back onto his cock, making sure you nut on him as many times as he is able to drag it out of you.

Then, after concerns about your time spent in the sauna, you wrap it up - even though Suguru still hasn’t cum himself. But that doesn’t remain the case for long.

You find yourself pressed against the wet shower wall not even five minutes later, only a curtain hiding the two of you from the rest of the people in the bathroom. Suguru keeps his hand clamped over your mouth, whispering in your ear how good girls keep quiet, while making it impossible for you to obey.

And when he finally releases his thick cum all over your asscheek, watching as it instantly washes away under the hot water, he’s sticking it back in just a few seconds later.

Your brain is mushed with ecstasy from the powder, so you hardly notice that you’ve cum on his cock twice already, still ready for more.

GUMMY THROAT / GOJO.

“Want a hit?”

Shoko coughs and turns her wrist to hold her blunt out to you. You sit beside her on the couch and shake your head, holding up the bag in your hand.

“I’m good,” you grin. Inside the bag is edible gummies, which you’ve taken two of, and can already feel your toes stretching.

Shoko nods in understanding and passes it to someone else, leaning back against the couch with her eyelids laying low.

You check your pockets for your other bag, which has libido gummy bears, not edibles. This is the bag you’d handed to Gojo, watching as he’d devoured three obliviously.

“Satoru, you know you shouldn’t have eaten that many,” you’d scolded, trying to play along.

“Relax, my tolerance is higher than yours,” he’d quipped sassily.

But now that Shoko’s party has started to slow down, people disappearing in spurts, others sitting in corners or on the floor because they’re stuck, you and Gojo are having a staring contest - and you know what it means.

His eyes are wide and his fingers are restless. He’s sitting next to Suguru, who’s naively engaged in conversation with a pretty ginger. You’re pretending to ignore Gojo’s clear body language that says he wants to leave so that he can scramble your brains.

You giggle as your head falls on Shoko’s shoulder. Your body feels like it’s lifting off of the couch as the THC begins to flood through your bloodstream. All you can do is grip onto your skirt as if it’ll ground you.

Gojo stands from where he sits and struts over to you, his blue eyes appearing to glow with madness. “Y/N, get up,” he instructs, his voice commanding and unlike him.

“No,” you huff, nuzzling further into Shoko.

“Have it your way.” He reaches down and grabs your wrist, yanking you off of the cushions, and you can distantly hear Shoko laughing as Gojo puts his hand under your thighs and lifts you into his arms.

“Hey-!” you protest as you’re now being hauled princess style, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin with just how harshly he’s holding you.

“It’s way late,” he says. “And you’re high as hell. We need to go.”

“You’re being extra,” you scold, bopping your finger on his nose before letting yourself go limp against him. “Y’sure this is about it being late?”

“No, it isn’t,” he admits. “Watching you sit there and play with your skirt is making me lose my damn mind.”

“But I was hanging out with Shoko,” you pout, and realize he is not taking you towards any exits at all. He’s walking you to the back of the house, near the laundry room. “Gojo, what are you-?”

“I need your throat,” he blurts suddenly, glaring down at you with a compulsory twinkling in his eye. “Happy now? That’s what this is about. Need it so fucking bad.”

You giggle. The air feels crisp and your mind is so free. The room spins and you still feel like you’re floating.

“Okay, but be warned that I have cotton mouth,” you hold up a finger matter-of-factly. “May be a bit dry.”

He reaches the laundry room and pushes the curtain aside. If you were more sober, you’d realize how incredibly risky he’s being, but since you aren’t, you don’t care.

He puts you down in front of the washer, and wraps his fingers around your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing your mouth to open. In the same beat, he tuahs a mean glob of spit in your mouth.

“There,” he whispers. “That should help. Now I need you on your knees.”

He uses his grip on your face to push your head down until your knees collapse and you land on them. He releases you and you look up at him expectantly.

“All this for some head?” you taunt, placing your palms on his thighs. “Not that serious.”

“Yes it is,” he whines, “might die if I can’t shove my cock between those pretty lips.”

He leans down and swipes his thumb across your mouth, flicking your bottom lip and making your eyes flutter. You’re looking at him but not quite seeing him, as the gummies in your system have you spaced out. Your limbs feel like they’re stretching. You dig your nails into Gojo’s pants and he responds with an unearthly growl.

Your face is shadowed immediately, and upon focusing your eyes, you realize there's a fat, peachy cock looming over your face.

You gasp, watching as it comes down and taps you on the nose, fleshy and dripping in precum.

“Satoru-!” is all you can manage to say, as his tip grazes your cheek.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you part your lips slowly, expecting him to shove himself inside but instead he leans forward and sends another drop of saliva down your throat. “Just making sure it’s wet enough.”

“Y- mmh,” you're cut off, because Gojo has rammed the tip of his cock between your lips.

You part your teeth and wrap your tongue on the underside instinctually, eyes fluttering closed as you take in his salty taste.

"Speak up," he grunts, “you were being so bratty a minute ago.”

"Ngh - no," you gargle around his girth, saliva filling your mouth and making it hard to breath, pouring out of the sides of your cheeks and coating his shaft.

"Look at you, can't even take all of it," he taunts, pushing his hips deeper so that the tip begins to push down your throat, making you gag, your mouth becoming wetter.

Your eyes are hardly staying open. With your brain being so mellow, all that you can see or feel or taste is Gojo’s cock as it pumps in and out of your throat, bulging through your neck.

“So gummy,” Gojo purrs, putting his hands on the edge of the washing machine behind you. “Throat fits me so perfect, baby, y’know that?”

You can’t respond but the moaning attempt you make around his cock pulls a grunt from him. You know he’s being incredibly loud and obvious, but you can hardly scold him. The most you can do is crack your palms on his thighs, leaving tiny hand-shaped prints on the smooth skin.

“Hngh - what was that for?” he scolds before murmuring, “do it again.”

You smack his legs again and keep your eyes closed. You’re salivating all over his length and it drips down your chin, which is being abused by his heavy sac in repeated claps.

“Quiet,” you moan around his cock, as he’s letting out the most pathetic, desperate moans while you drive your mouth down to the base.

“N-No,” he grumbles, lifting his shirt up, before taking it between his teeth. You’re met face to face his with his perfect abdomen, glistening in droplets of sweat. “You suck me up so good, princess.”

Your eyes roll in pleasure at the name, eyes watering, mouth no longer dry. You don’t care if he wants to wake up the neighborhood; you just want to hear the delicious, sultry noises.

But right when you feel his dick twitch against the sides of your cheeks, you force your mouth off and swallow down the pool of saliva in the back of your throat. Your lips are wet and puffy as you part them and stare up at him.

“Gah - baby, why?” he quarrels, gripping tightly on your head.

You answer by leaning back forward and kissing his tip, sticking out your tongue and flicking it over the head before backing up again.

His knees nearly buckle, his grip on your head tightens.

“P-please don’t,” he whimpers. “S-suck it.”

“Mm-mm,” you mouth defiantly, wrapping your lips over the tip and gently pressing your teeth down; should he try to shove it deeper, it would only hurt him.

“Ngh - ‘m too horny for this, baby,” he growls. “Was so close.”

“Too bad,” you shrug, voice muffled because of the way you’re swirling your tongue over his slick pink tip.

His head falls forward, white locks dangling over his face as he tries to fight through his unbearably high libido. Your high has started to wear off but you can tell it’s going to be a long night for Satoru.

“Alright princess, I-I’ll remember this,” he coos from above, trying to push his hips towards your face but ultimately hissing and stopping when your teeth clamp down on the meat. “Goddamnit baby, what’s gotten into you? P-Please jus’ le’me cum.”

“Maybe,” you hum, taking him out of your mouth and using your spit to stroke his cock. “How bad you want it?”

“S-so bad,” he begs. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” you question, running your thumb over his tip. “Hmm. You’re in charge of cooking dinner for a week. Deal?”

“Ah - fuck it, just please,” he whines, writhing under your touch, barely able to get his words out.

“Cum,” you say silkily, sticking your tongue to catch the salty, white ropes that waste absolutely no time shooting from his shaft.

He twitches under your grip until his high has ridden out, but you use his cum as lubricant to keep stroking his poor length.

“Okay, okay,” he whines. “I-I’m good now, agh.”

“You’re not good till I say so,” you gruff, until his hand comes under your chin harshly, and brings you to a forced standing position.

“I said I’m good, but if you think I’m not getting you back for that - you’re a stupid little thing, aren’t you?” He swipes his thumb over your cum-covered lips, and then licks it clean, before cracking you on the cheek. “Now, on your toes baby. And be quiet.”

A/N:

I’ve been trying to finish this for forever bro wtf is wrong with me

I’m fighting demons (writer’s block)

And also… I think I wanna write some Gojo fluff after #jjk271 because my baby deserves love and light good fucking bye.

all the love always!

~pennjammin

[cyripticchronicler]

The Bet (18+)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hidden away in the woods to celebrate the mating bond, you decide to raise the stakes on a supposedly innocent card game. If you win, he has to do whatever you want. Thank the Gods he lost; you want to make the powerful spymaster squirm.

TW: Smut, drinking wine, needy Az, teasing reader, edging kinda?

A/N: I forget how hard writing smut is lmao but I hope you enjoy it!! I think it's the best smut I've ever written ngl. Thank you to my friend (who doesn't want to be named but is awesome) for giving me feedback/editing this fic - I'll give you gum when I next see you, hun.

Masterlist Azriel Masterlist

Azriel looked like the Godly male he was born to be. His smirk was nothing short of dangerous. His eyes gleamed in the dim room, cheeks flushed a rosy pink from the wine that hazed his mind. 

With each sip from the open wine bottle between you two, he was losing his inhibitions, but who could blame him? He’s had the best week of his life; the mating bond had been successfully accepted with Azriel quickly whisking you away to a cabin in the woods to enjoy free, uninterrupted time for the mating frenzy. 

The tall, captivating, Illyrian had taken you everywhere in the small cabin in less than a week - including the floor you were sitting on now. After spending the day with no food in your stomach, you had to put your foot down and demand a break. 

Azriel suggested a game of cards and you never knew that a pair of hands shuffling a deck of playing cards could be so attractive. You have to fold your legs to stop yourself from pouncing on him - an action Azriel doesn’t fail to notice, considering the way his eyes darken.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, shoving a grape in your mouth, immediately relishing in the cold burst of flavour across your tongue. Azriel begins to hand you your deck, gaze not straying from your rosy lips for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s rare to see him so relaxed. So happy. His wings are drooped by his sides, his hair mussed and his clothes wrinkled.

He looks so handsome, yet the sight that has your heart fluttering the most is the permanent smile resting on his lips. A tempting sight.

He’s been so happy this past week and you want nothing more than for him to stay that way. “Now you’re looking at me weirdly,” he mutters, a light blush blooming across his cheeks despite the undeniable cockiness that laced his voice. 

“I can’t help it. You’re just so handsome.” His smile turns shy. The red on his cheeks grows ferociously and he has to look away from your gleaming eyes. Despite your attempt to silence your laughter by chewing on your lips, joyous huffs break free and cause Azriel to slump against the front of the couch, hiding his face in his hands.

“You’re evil,” he states, eyes peeking out at you between the gap of his middle and ring finger. You ignore him, picking up your cards and ensuring they’re hidden from his gaze. “C’mon, grab your cards. Let’s make this round more interesting.”

He does as you say, grabbing his cards and propping his elbow on his knee, his other leg straight and stretched out over the plush carpet. “Interesting? And how would we do that?” 

A smirk tilts your lips. “Let’s say…” your finger taps against the back of your cards. “If you win, I do whatever you want. But if I win, you do whatever I want.”

“Be prepared to lose, honey,” Azriel utters smugly, flashing you a wink that has your heart pulsing. A lone shadow wraps around your arm and you gasp, holding your cards to your chest. “No cheating! Keep your shadows on your side.” 

He playfully mocks you, before placing down a card, effectively signalling the start to the game. 

You can’t help but laugh at the boyish action, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Oh, it’s on, baby. You glare in return and place your own card down, taking a large gulp of wine before wiping your lips. Brown, eager eyes track the movement and you pointedly stare at the cards in the middle of the table. 

He places another card, causing you to pick up four from a separate pile. And so the games begin.

****

“You’re cheating,” Azriel said, his suspicion clear and demanding. Your mouth falls open dramatically at the accusation, your hand extending to give him a light, punishing smack. “I'm not!”

You’re not sure when it happened, or how, but the two of you have moved closer. Both of you are still sitting on the floor, but now Azriel sits on the side of the table instead of at the end, his wing resting behind you, comfortable and warm. His long legs are stretched out in front of him under the table with his large hand returning to your thigh each time it’s your turn. 

“How are you doing so well, then?” He demands, a light and playful scoff falling from his lips, though you can spy a hint of genuine annoyance in the glint in his eyes. 

“Maybe you’re the problem. Maybe, since you can’t use your shadows,” you pointedly eye the shadows that swirl around Azriels arms, “You’re just not that good.”

“I have never used my shadows to cheat.” You wouldn’t be surprised if he has cheated before. Despite his honest personality, he’s just as competitive. Yet, you know he hasn’t cheated tonight; his shadows have stayed at his side, never once trailing up to whisper something in his ear. 

“Oh?” You lean in closer, the smell of night-chilled air and cedar invading your senses. His eyes move from your lips and down your neck, landing on the inside of your shirt that hangs. He nods, gulping. You catch it, the way his Adam's apple bops, very telling of the effect you had on him. The notion sends a pleasant chill down your spine, and your lips curl up. “Then maybe you want to lose. Maybe you like the idea of being at my mercy. Of having to do whatever I say.”

“Maybe I do.” His breath fans your lips, so close but too far away for your liking. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” He places a quick, barely there kiss on your cheek before placing down a card. You pull away and glare when you realise he’s now in the lead. 

“I’m going to find out, alright.”

****

“Oh Fuck.” Azriel’s groan has your skin heating, waves of satisfaction sending goosebumps down your spine. You smirk teasingly.  “Loser,” You menacingly whisper, voice a low drawl as you creep closer, faces a mere inch apart. “Now,” Your knees shuffle forward, yanked by an invisible force, “You have to do whatever I want.”

His hands move instinctively to rest on your hips. “And what is it that you want me to do?” You hum, tilting your head as your hair falls to one side, legs moving to straddle him. “Let’s say…” You pretend to contemplate, though you’d already known what you’d make him do hours ago. You take his hands and hold them in yours, thumb gently rubbing over the scars you love so much. You shake them gently. “These have to stay by your side.”

His eyebrows raised in interest and you watched his eyes darken, a subtle action only you could cause. “You mean…” He trails off, sucking in a sharp breath as your hands begin to wander over his chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his loose, white shirt.

His eyebrows crease, a shaky sigh falling from his plump, kissable lips as you begin to grind against his hard, solid body slowly. His hands raise to touch you before he quickly gathers his wits, squeezing them at his sides instead. Your lips ghost over his before you pull him in for a warm, sloppy kiss that shakes your body. You don’t think you’d ever get sick of kissing him - the way he pours so much love and passion into each movement of his mouth, the way his tongue swipes past your lips in such a gentle yet undeniably needy manner. 

Your hands fist in the collar of his shirt as the kiss grows deeper, pulling him closer into your body as you continue to roll your hips deliberately... Your skin feels like it was set on fire, a deep rumble of pleasure evoking in your core. Azriel’s hands raise to cup your cheeks, mind too blurred with your movements to remember your only rule. You force yourself to pull away and stop your movements. 

“What did I tell you?” You pant, breathing heavily in his ear as you whisper. His eyes squeeze shut, slowly dragging his hands away from your body as he groans. “I-” He gulps, voice coming out raspy. “Sorry?” You shake your head, heart beating wildly in your chest while you pepper kisses on his flushed skin, over his sharp jaw and down his neck before you find cause at his collarbone, sucking harsh enough to leave a mark. 

“You should be.” Your hips continue their movements, pulling away from his neck to admire his face. His cheeks are red, mouth hung open slightly as he sucks in sharp puffs of air. His tongue flit out quickly to wet his lips, eager brown eyes momentarily looking down to watch the way your hips move against his. 

His wings flutter behind him, spread wide. Your hand hesitates before you can touch them. “Can I?” His eyes show no sign of nervousness or hesitation as he nods. “I’m all yours.” All it takes is one swipe against the thin and leathery membrane before he’s throwing his head back as a loud, guttural moan breaks out of him and his hands find purchase at your waist, rubbing you against him with brutal force. 

You tut, removing yourself from his touch completely, choosing to stand in front of his sitting form instead. “I only have one rule, Azriel. Why aren’t you following it? Do you not want me to touch you?” He spreads his legs, veiny hands lazily resting on his thick thighs, hidden beneath thick sweatpants. His chest rises and falls, betraying his desperate need. You have to clench your thighs to stop the painful ache. 

His breath shudders, his body going pliant under your touch, completely defenseless to your ministrations as he shakes his head desperately. “I do. Gods, I do. You just make it so hard.” His voice trails off in an almost whine and you can’t help the pride that sinks into your skin. The most dangerous, hard-headed and serious male is sitting in front of you and practically begging for your touch. 

“Then listen to what I say, okay hun?” At his answering nod, a strand of hair falling over his eye, you reward him by pulling your thin shirt off and chucking it to the side. The cool air sends goosebumps over your supple skin, the only source of heat being Azriels greedy eyes as he watches your nipples perk to attention. 

Deciding you want to tease him more, you trail a lone finger up your stomach, over your breast and into your mouth, fire kindling in its wake. You swirl your tongue around your finger, eyes never straying from Azriel, saliva dripping down your chin and onto your chest. Slowly, you let your finger trail downwards, a trail of wet saliva being left behind as you bring the finger to your nipple, squeezing and pinching, quiet moans escaping your bitten lip. 

Azriel sits in his spot, fingers squeezing his thighs so tightly he’s surely leaving a mark. You hum. “Azzie?” His eyes snap to yours, eager and awaiting instruction. “Take your pants off for me.” He shoots out of his sitting position, taking a deep breath to calm his excitement, some of his control returning as he slowly pulls his pants down his legs, hard, veiny cock now visible, drops of precum budding at the tip. 

Your pants come off next, thrown to the side without a care. You take a step towards him, trying to not let it show how your breathing staggers at the way he looks at you. “Do you want to take my panties off?” Your voice is teasing, amused at how quickly he nods and falls to his knees in front of you. 

Slow but sure hands graze your hip, fingers hooking between your panties and slowly pulling them down your legs. He makes sure to look up at you through his lashes, mouth wet and slightly open. The sight has you almost losing your composure, a thick fog clouding your mind and you have to grip his long hair to make sure you don’t crumble to pieces in front of him. Not that he would have minded.

He moans when your grip gets tighter, a deep rumble against your skin. Gently pulling his head back, a wave of heat soaks your core. “Do you want to eat me out for a bit?” His eyes widened with hope, followed by a desperate nod. You almost let him. Almost.

He visibly deflates when you pull away, hands resting at your sides, glowing body on display for him to see. “Too bad. Stand up.” His knees shake yet he stands to his full height. “Take your shirt off.” It’s gone in seconds much to your delight, the deep ridges of his abs glistening with sweat that you want nothing more than to lick off. Your walls clenched around nothing, a desperate need swirling in your stomach that you attempted to ignore. You wanted to tease him more.

“Sit on the couch.” He does as you say, legs spread, erect cock pressed against his lower stomach. You stand between him, hands resting against his thighs while your nails press into his skin hard enough to invoke a pain you know he likes. His wings bristled at the feeling, bringing your attention back to them once again. You can’t resist placing a gentle kiss on the rough texture of his wing, sensitive enough to feel the light, barely there kiss. 

You watch as his abs flex, body yearning to reach you when you don’t sit on his lap like he hoped. Instead, you sit on the other side of the couch, one leg propped up on the couch, bent at the knee and showing off your glistening pussy. Azriel moans at the sight, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes his head harshly. “You’re evil,” He states roughly. You smile, a hand dipping to your soaked core, middle finger swirling around your pulsing hole and then circling your clit. You moan out an arrogant, “I know.”

Your back arches, body sinking into the sofa, breathless moans turning sinful when you press a finger into your tight, warm cunt. Your fingers aren’t as long or thick as Azriels but they still cause a sickeningly hot flash of pleasure to travel up your sweat-soaked spine. 

The sounds of your finger thrusting in and out of your warm heat fill the room, a sound that has Azriel’s breath laboured. His eyes couldn’t leave your flushed form if he tried. Your hips greedily thrust into your hand, eagerly wanting more but not letting Azriel give it to you. 

When a particularly loud, breathy moan falls from your parted lips he can’t help but moan back, the shadows wrapping around his body moving to his most sensitive part. The light friction from their tight movements as they swirl around his base is enough to have him whining; he was so hard and sensitive and wanted nothing more than to be touched. But he couldn’t break your rules and with one restrained tug, his shadows returned to the corners of the room. 

“Az,” You moan, a whine breaking free as a deep, pleasurable feeling awakens in your core, wounding tighter each time you hit the rough, fleshy spot inside you. “‘M gonna cum.” He’s left to just watch and stare like a pervert, debating whether or not to end this pesky game and fuck you into oblivion. He’s about to do just that but then you’re looking at him, eyes bright with satisfaction and mischief and he knows he wants to see those eyes staring down at him while you take control. 

It takes you a second to gather your wits, legs still shaking while you begin to crawl to Azriel on the other side of the couch, enjoying the way his eyes darken and his jaw clenches. You stop when you’re directly beside him, your knees touching his thighs. 

You don’t waste a second in pulling him in for a kiss, lips pushing against his swollen ones, a deep rumble sounding in his chest. You pull away, lips still grazing over his as you whisper. “You’ve been very good. You deserve a reward.” His eyes brighten like a kid in a candy shop and he gulps in excitement. 

A smile pulls at your lips in response to his eager reaction, looking away from his captivating eyes to look at his hard cock, flushed red due to not being touched. You bite your lip and bring your hand down to squeeze at his base. A quiet curse slips from his lips and you squeeze harder. 

You thumb at his tip, using his precum as lube as you slowly stroke his rock-hard dick. He’s so responsive, needy wines falling from his lips while he groans out your name. His hands now squeeze the sofa, his right hand squeezing the armrest so hard you’re sure it’s going to rip. 

Your pace is slow. Teasing. Your lips find their way to Azriels neck, sucking and biting, feeling his skin heat at your touch. You squeeze tighter. His breath quivered, hips thrusting into your hand like a man starved.  “Are you-” You clear your throat, voice rough with pleasure. “Are you going to let me fuck you?” 

His answering nod is desperate and hurried. “Fuck yes. Please fuck me. Please.” Goosebumps trail up your skin at his begging and you know you can’t refuse him. With a kiss to his sweat-soaked hair, your hand pulls away, back arching in protest while he cries out. 

“Shhh,” Your breath fans over his ear, legs moving to straddle him, hips perched above his waist. “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” He grumbles incoherently and you huff a laugh, storing the moment in your mind so you can tease him about it later. 

And then you’re slowly sinking down, his large, thick cock spreading your walls in a painful rush of pleasure. He moans in your ear, the feeling of his breath against your neck has you lightly biting his shoulder.  With a shuddering breath, you pull away until the tip is barely inside of you before you slam your hips down, his dick far deeper than your fingers could ever reach. 

“Touch me.” He’s happy to do so, hips thrusting into yours while his lips travel to your perky nipple, tongue drawing tight circles before he pulls it into his mouth completely, sucking harshly and causing your walls to clench around him. 

Your sweaty skin sticks to him, the smell of sex filling the air. Your boobs bounce with each thrust, capturing Azriel’s attention, eyes wide and pouty like he were in a trance. “I’m not going to last long,” He mutters around a moan, hands kneading at your flesh. Your hands raise to the brown strands of his hair, yanking tightly before pulling him in for a kiss. It’s messy, teeth clashing, his nose pressed into your cheek.

“I'm not going to last either.” You feel like you’re on fire, gasping for air as your back arches, legs shaking around his thighs. “You’re so beautiful,” You hear him mutter around a quiet groan, his lips leaving warm, open mouthed kisses on any part of you he could reach. His nails are digging into your skin, his hands shaky. 

The familiar sensation of tightness grows in your stomach, coiling tautly as your breath staggers. You rub your finger against your swollen clit, already sensitive from your last orgasm, as you chase the height of your pleasure. 

He throws his head back against the back of the sofa, Adams's apple bobbing as the veins in his neck throb. “Can I- Gods, can I come? Please?” Your nails scratch down his chest, his abs clenching in delight. “Cum for me baby, I’m right behind you.” 

He shouts your name, his large hands moving to your hips and controlling your thrusts, smashing your hips down on his cock. His cum drips down your thighs and the coil inside your stomach bursts at the sight, a moan leaving your lips as your heartbeat echoes in your ears. Your legs shake and you feel so good it’s almost sickening. 

After what felt like one of the longest, most intense rush of sensations, you slump against Azriel’s chest, head resting in the crook of his neck as you both attempt to catch your breaths. His nails lightly scratch down your back, causing you to shiver. His chin rests atop your sweaty hair and he kisses your head before muttering, “I’m going to be losing a lot more often if my reward is that.”

Your body shakes with laughter and you pull away slightly to look at him. “Shut up.” And then you’re kissing him, so filled with love and happiness you could burst. 

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when satoru gojo fakes vulnerability and someone responds with actual care?

a/n: reader using a male avatar so she doesn't get underestimated and satoru using a female avatar to scam his way through life is literally the silliest dynamic i’ve ever cooked up. like hello??? gender who??? one’s silently carrying the whole server with raw skill and the other’s sobbing in sparkles for loot he doesn’t even need. peak clownery. I LOVE THEM.

satoru didn’t play the game to be noble. he played to win.

he lounged on a mossy ledge in aethergate online’s emerald forest, legs swinging above luminous roots, beams of late afternoon light dripping through the tree canopy like syrup. his avatar—a petite girl with tousled silver hair in a wispy bob, watery blue eyes wide with a kind of fragile wonder—sat delicately beside him, barefoot, skirts artfully dirtied, wand trembling in her small hands. she looked like she’d burst into tears if you so much as raised your voice.

and she was him.

he’d picked the flattest chest size the game allowed, for maximum "innocent lost fairy" effect. her voice—filtered through a pitch-tuned modulator—was airy and lilting, like a tearful anime side character two seconds from fainting. her idle animations were rigged to sparkle when she wasn’t doing anything. a helpless deer stuck in traffic. a damsel in distress.

who also happened to be capable of obliterating an elite raid squad with one broken staff and an accidental crit chain.

in real life, satoru slouched deep into his gaming chair, hoodie collar bunched beneath his chin, white hair curling in a sleepy cloud around his head. his bangs hung low over a pair of gleaming, mischief-fueled eyes behind the visor. he stretched, knuckles cracking, before lazily adjusting the mic attached to his cheek. a bowl of half-finished cereal sat nearby, forgotten. his room glowed faintly with neon strips and a flickering holographic map of the game world plastered to one wall.

he was, objectively, the worst.

and today, he was feeling particularly theatrical.

the forest shimmered around him—twilight casting gold against the thick moss, background players flitting through with cloaks trailing behind, the soft ding of system notifications blending into birdsong. a sprite child NPC chased a floating pet butterfly near the stream, while two players argued over loot nearby, their chat bubbles popping like comic panels. satoru squatted in an overgrown fox den, triggering a scripted ambush, and let a swarm of level thirty wolves drag his health bar down to red. he screamed through his girl voice like a starlet in an old movie. “aah~ not againnn~ i’m sooo scaaared~ someone heeelp~!”

just in time, the brush behind him rustled.

you stepped out.

no fanfare, no slow-mo entrance. just calm, heavy steps. armored boots pressed moss flat as you walked into the fray, blade already swinging. three clean arcs. no wasted motion. the wolves fell without even a snarl. your avatar—broad-shouldered, practical, with short dark hair and a jawline like it was carved by someone very tired—stood tall against the dappled light.

satoru’s avatar blinked slowly up at you. perfect mark.

he mashed the sparkle emote.

“waaah~ thankyuuuu~ i was totally gonna diiie~ you saved meee~ teehee~”

you stared. then crouched, dropping a low-tier potion by his feet.

his real grin stretched wide. “ehhh? you’re sooo nice~ i ran out of everythiiing~ do you maybe have a few moreee?”

you paused. then dropped three more. silent.

he squealed for real. in real life, he kicked his feet against the desk.

“i love you,” he breathed through the mic, voice mod still on. but you just nodded once.

and left.

or tried to. satoru scrambled after you like a glittery barnacle. every time you stopped to check your map, his dainty avatar would sit cross-legged behind you, hands folded in her lap. if you set traps, he’d walk directly into them with the most tragic whimper you’d ever heard.

you always helped.

he couldn’t believe how easy it was.

on the third day, he managed to scam your epic raid-earned sword out of you with a long, high-pitched plea and a sparkly spin.

“n-noo~ i feel sooo baddd~ i’m scamming youuu~!!!” he cried, while pressing confirm before you could blink.

and you just... nodded.

no mic. not once had he heard your voice.

but you always turned to face him. always healed him. always gave a little wave at the end of a dungeon. sometimes you’d do a silly dance emote if he pretended to cry hard enough.

he was on top of the world.

until the boss hunt.

he was half-tempted to ghost you when the invite came in. but... he liked the attention. and the freebies. so he showed up, sparkles and all. actually tried a little. even dodged once or twice.

afterward, when the rare loot dropped, he waited for you to start dividing it.

instead, you traded it all to him. the legendary cloak. the mount egg. the enhancement cores. he stared at the trade window, then at your avatar. you stood still, like a sentry carved from obsidian.

his fingers hovered over the confirm button.

“w-wait, are you sure? i don’t— i don’t deserve all this—”

he flicked on the sparkle emote again, panicking.

but you only bowed gently. then waved.

then disappeared.

he stared at the empty space where your avatar had been.

“…what the hell,” he muttered, voice modulator still on.

then, real voice: quiet, almost pouting. “what the hell.”

he sat down in the same mossy spot, skirt fluttering in the still forest air. around him, players sprinted past in the distance, gear clinking, birds chirped lazily, a low-level bard sang off-key to a party of two, while an animated slime NPC bounced in slow circles nearby. the world went on, coded and infinite.

satoru stayed frozen.

then, slowly, he typed.

“did u mean to give me all that stuff?”

an hour passed. the sky dimmed from golden dusk to violet evening. fireflies blinked in and out between fern leaves. his cereal had gone completely soggy.

then:

“yes. u looked happy.”

his visor fogged a little. his fingers paused on the keyboard.

he didn’t log off for another four hours. just sat there, tiny legs swinging off the ledge, face pink.

slightly smiling.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠

summary: Logan fucks you with one of his cigars.

pairing: Logan Howlett x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. smut. object insertion -> unlit cigar. don't try this at home. wc: 509

an: welp, here i am, writing about object insertion once again. first time writing Logan despite pining for him since 2000. thanks to @missredherring for having no qualms about being fucked with a cigar. you're a real one.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬

Logan lands a heavy thumb on your clit and swirls the tiny button producing an excess of slick from your glistening sex. "Want 'er nice n' wet." He brazenly informs while puffing on a lit cigar nestled between his lips.

Earlier, he tempted you into his bedroom with a grin; you didn't notice the new box of cigars tucked under his arm. He softly commanded you to lie on his bed and to hold your legs apart.

"I wanna try somethin'."

You should've known how this would turn out when he stood between your thighs and brought one of the fresh cigars to his nose, smelling it like a predator catching whiff of wounded prey.

He teases the head of an uncapped cigar along your puffy, slick opening and slowly drags the blunt end up and down, making sure to gather as much sticky arousal as he can before pushing into your warmth. "There ya go, you can take it."

The pressure is noticeable as it glides across your velvet walls. The cigar is as thick as one of Logan's fingers and grazes all the right spots as he languidly fucks you with it. "Wanna taste ya all day long."

Your stomach cramps at the thought of how inappropriate it was to be fucked with such an object, not to mention the fact that Logan would be puffing away on your pussy soaked cigar in front of people.

"Come on, kid. Drench it." Logan commands, making your cunt clench hard as he rubs tight, steady circles around your clit and forces you to come with no chance of denial.

He husks immoral praise while he continues to thrust the cigar deeper, staining it with your arousal until you try to clamp your thighs together and push at his forearms, overwrought with mind-numbing bliss. "Logan, please," you whimper pitifully as your cunt beats in time with your heart.

He smirks before sliding the cigar from your heat, eliciting a soft, relieved groan from your chest. You watch in awe as he raises and inspects the cigar. It's effectively soaked, dripping with your creamy arousal, and the thought makes you lightheaded.

Logan plucks the old cigar he was puffing on from his mouth and eagerly replaces it with the one just inside you. He cuts the cigar cap with a butterfly blade he keeps stowed in his pocket before flicking his lighter; the foot sizzles, burning like the sun before he takes a few cautious drags and tongues the freshly sodded head. Earthy smoke swirls from his mouth as he leers down at you like a dragon fresh after a kill.

"Fuckin' delicious," he mutters. The words are garbled, barely coherent, over the cigar before he rolls it to the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

A weak laugh breezes out of your throat, and you shake your head with bewilderment before two brute hands catch you by surprise and wedge your knees apart. Logan splays your thighs wide open with a wicked smile.

"Got 9 more to go, bub."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[avis-writeshq]

hi ! love ur fics <3

can i request reader as being a massive flirt publicly towards spencer but when its Intimate and Private, reader is suddenly Stunned and Speechless and Blushing and spencer kinda gets the confidence to Do Stuff

im sorry if that was the stupidest described ask ever achh but lov u !

pairing: s9!spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, bombshell-ish(?) reader, fluff warnings: 16+ for kind of suggestive? he’s so in love UGH a/n: thank you for requesting !! wc: 1.22k

Spencer thinks that you are the most beautiful person in the world. He thinks that you’re glowing every time you walk into the room– no matter how upset or disgruntled you may be– and as cliche as it may seem, he’s certain that swarms butterflies fill his stomach and cloud his mind. In fact, he thinks that you have always had that effect on him, ever since he’s met you. You’re touchy, and despite Spencer’s general aversion to physical touch, he finds that he doesn’t mind your germs much. 

Very often he finds himself at your mercy, with the way your fingers brush against his face as if it’s nothing, as if that movement alone was something that you do with everyone (you’ve only ever done it with him). There are other instances where you’ve been very blatant in your attraction towards him, so much so that he ends up with his cheeks hot more often than not. A part of him is grateful that though you work in the FBI, it isn’t his division. He doubts he’d be able to see the end of it.

“Spencer,” you gush, curling your fingers into the ends of his hair. Or rather, lack of hair. “You got a haircut. You’re supposed to consult me first, you know.”

He laughs, looking up at you as you stand over him while he sits at his desk. “Is that what a good boyfriend is supposed to do?”

“Yes.” You speak with mock indignation, properly running your fingers through his hair from his fringe to the back of his head. “It’s so short.”

“Do you hate it?” There’s a momentary pang of unease that strikes at his heart. “Maybe I should have consulted you.”

“No, baby, it looks really good.” You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “You’re warm. Do you have a fever?”

Of course I’m warm, Spencer wants to say while you continue to dote on him, your hands travelling to his collar next and brushing against his throat. You’re touching me in the middle of the bullpen. 

He opts to not say anything when he sees your knowing smile. You’re doing this on purpose. He clicks his tongue, squeezing at your waist lightly as you lean over him to kiss his forehead. He’ll let you win this battle; he’s going to get you back.

***

He doesn’t really know how to get you back. There are a few harmless things he’d thought of doing: sneaking into your department and hiding your mug on the top shelf (he fears that you’d ask someone, a taller more handsome someone, to rescue it for you), not wearing the tie you picked out for him that morning (he can already envision your disappointed frown and his chest aches at the imaginary you getting upset because of him), and putting toothpaste in your Oreos (he doesn’t want to die). 

All of these ideas go down the drain and he ends up not getting back at you for days. It doesn’t help that he’s been gone for a case while you’ve been stuck at home. It isn’t all bad, and a part of him wishes that he can hold himself to the same level of confidence as Derek when Penelope calls him with flirtatious motives. You do virtually the same thing. 

Your words are honey as you shower him with compliments, ending him with a simple “Hey, gorgeous.” 

It is enough to make his heart leap to his throat and his cheeks to warm to a pretty pink. There’s not much overlap between the Human Resources Branch and the BAU, especially considering that you assist more on the training and hiring side of things, so there aren’t many opportunities for you to fluster him when he’s out of the office. He finds that you always make an excuse.

“Hi,” he responds softly, avoiding the teasing gazes of Emily and Derek. “Is… are you okay?”

“Do I need to not be okay to talk to my lovely boyfriend?” 

You’re teasing him, poking fun at the way he so easily surrenders to you. He resists the urge to run out the room. 

“Stop,” he warns half-heartedly. He says your name quietly, tapping his fingers at the edge of the table. “Is there something you needed?”

He can practically hear you smile as you respond, the sound of your mouse clicking in the background. “Oh, yeah. My computer says that my storage is full. What do I do?”

“Your storage is full,” he repeats, smiling. “That’s why you called me?”

“It’s lunchtime in Santa Monica, right?”

He relents, cheeks hurting from how hot and stretched out they are. “Yes.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

He puffs out a breath of air, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re lovely.” He can imagine you batting your eyes, your smile saccharine. “Don’t you wish that you were here, gorgeous?”

He’s definitely going to get you back.

*** 

Spencer goes to your apartment once the case ends, his eyes dreary with sleep and the horrors that he saw only a few hours prior. Your apartment key hangs next to his on his keychain– a limited edition Tardis charm that you got him for his birthday. He huffs out a breath, unlocking your door and stepping inside. He’s met with you dancing around in your kitchen, headphones on whilst holding a wooden spoon. A part of him is concerned with how easily he could slip into your home without being notice, but the other part can’t help but smile at how carefree you look, and he leans against the wall to stare. 

He doesn’t get the opportunity to stare for long. It’s comical, the way you jump upon seeing him, eyes wide as you rip your headphones off. 

“You’re back! You scared me.” A smile stretches across your lips while you press your palm to your chest whilst taking steps towards him. “Don’t do that ever again.”

Spencer laughs, toeing his shoes off and resting his hands on your waist. His head dips down to meet your gaze, peering up at you with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks glow warm and you break eye contact. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” He hooks his pointer finger under your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I missed you.”

He notes the way you don’t respond, in some sort of daze while your lips part in both surprise and flusteredness. He understands your sentiments– it isn’t often that he initiates affection. 

“Did you miss me, too?” Spencer asks softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks. 

“Of course I did,” you croak out, heat building in your head. 

Spencer chuckles, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s doing this on purpose, flustering you to the point of no return. He kisses you again, one hand holding the base of your head while the other squeezes at the flesh of your waist. It’s dizzying, the taste of coffee on his tongue and the feel of his fingers in your hair. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs once he’s pulled away. His thumb rubs a line from the back of your ear to where your jawline starts, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Where did that confidence go, hm?”

reblogs are always appreciated!

[soft4gguk]

yearning | ch. 1

the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...

Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb 

Content: porn with loads of plot!

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever. 

Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

The moment you exit the club, a gust of spring breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.

Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself. 

It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.

The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people. 

You think of him. 

It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close. 

A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter. 

Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another. 

“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too. 

The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call. 

You check the time. 

2:32 A.M.

~

Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with. 

Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know. 

“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”

Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh. 

“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”

At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.

“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore. 

He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.

He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being. 

Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone. 

He gets it now – the pull. 

From ___: jungkookie, u awake?

To ___: no

From ___: can I call?

He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you. 

~

Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?

You cut to the chase. 

“What are you up to?”

There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”

He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.

“You? It sounds busy in there.”

“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”

“Fun night?”

“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes. 

“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”

Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.

“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now. 

“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”

“Will you show me your cat?”

There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, that too.”

~

You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter. 

Yearning. 

He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it. 

Yeah – yearning. 

“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away. 

“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?

“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how. 

He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now. 

“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”

You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.

“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”

Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them. 

“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer. 

“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life. 

“Yeah, me too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome. 

It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass. 

What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from. 

“You hungry, baby?”

“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face. 

“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”

“I prefer Bamie anyways.” 

You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side. 

“Come here, baby.”

He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears. 

“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.” 

You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.

Never you. 

You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you. 

Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat. 

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”

“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question. 

“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Mean.”

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

You smile. “Okay, daddy.”

~

It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really? 

“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.

“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”

His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”

“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?” 

“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”

You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count. 

You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out. 

You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom. 

All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,

“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”

He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him. 

“You sure?”

“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him. 

“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”

“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.

“Mm.”

He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again. 

“Feed me.”

“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours. 

“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”

He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“With me. Yes. Just me.”

His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same. 

“Yeah. I am.”

“I am with you, too.”

“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his. 

“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”

You shrug. 

“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”

“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.

“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”

You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.” 

As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet. 

~

The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment. 

So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in. 

Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen. 

“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”

“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be here.” 

You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years. 

You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.

You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”

“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close. 

And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.

“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him. 

“I needed this,” you admit.

“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”

You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”

He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours. 

“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him. 

“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly. 

You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now. 

“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back. 

“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit. 

Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm. 

He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him. 

He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again. 

He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away. 

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough. 

“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at. 

“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully. 

You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go. 

“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure. 

You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.” 

“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again. 

Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive. 

“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock. 

“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.” 

Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ. 

You hum. “Thinking about what?”

He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”

You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game. 

He said he’d never forget that day. 

“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say. 

“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”

“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”

“Yeah, baby, come here.”

You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh. 

“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. So much.”

You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.

“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter. 

“Of course you don’t.”

“I’m an awful top.”

“You’re not a top.”

“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.

“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”

“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap. 

“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips. 

“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind. 

“Behave.”

Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.

“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his. 

“Fuck, I love your pussy.”

“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips. 

It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited. 

Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably. 

“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest. 

“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall. 

He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you. 

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away. 

“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper. 

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.

You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too. 

~

You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down. 

Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior. 

His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts. 

“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.” 

You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

~

[spookysanta]

The Stack Effect. (3/3) (MBJ)

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: smut

Part 1 | Part 2

part three babies! enjoyyyy

She didn’t expect to feel nervous.

But as she walked the familiar path toward his trailer, lunch in hand and butterflies chewing through her stomach lining, it hit her that this time felt different.

Michael was back to himself.

No gold teeth. No silk shirts. No slow-drawl, slick-smiled Stack. Just Michael. Hoodie up, sweatpants low on his hips, head bent over a script.

She knocked anyway.

The door cracked open a few seconds later, his head peeking out. His smile was immediate.

“Twice in one week? You tryna spoil me or something?”

“Brought you lunch,” she said, lifting the bag.

“Mm.” He stepped aside, motioned her in. “Or you’re just missin’ me.”

She walked past him, trying not to inhale too deeply. He still smelled like set: cedar, sweat, heat. But cleaner now. Calmer.

Normal.

Except nothing about her thoughts were.

He shut the door. Locked it. Then leaned against it, arms crossed.

She set the food down on the little table but didn’t unpack it.

He watched her. Smirking.

“You weren’t this obsessed with my other characters,” he said slowly. “Why now?”

She blinked.

“Huh?”

He pushed off the door. Took a few steps forward.

“I’ve played all kinds of motherfuckers. You ain’t never looked at me like you were ready to risk it all in public. But Stack?”

Her face flushed.

“Stack had you folded. Blushing. Shaking. Needing.”

“Stack is…” She shook her head. “Different.”

Michael raised a brow. “How so?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

He stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her chin to keep eye contact.

“You ain’t got the words? Thought you were the one always teasing me about staying in character too long.”

She swallowed.

“Michael.”

He smiled, but there was no warmth behind it.

“Nah. You called him by name when you came. Twice.”

Her knees weakened.

He leaned in, nose brushing her temple.

“Now you’re bringin’ me lunch like you’re innocent. But I can see it. You still feel him in your body, don’t you?”

“I came to feed you,” she whispered.

“You did.” His lips ghosted her neck. “Now let me feed the part of you that’s starvin’.”

She didn’t have time to answer before his hands were on her hips, lifting her effortlessly to sit on the counter.

He stood between her thighs, mouth inches from hers.

“That character ain’t got shit on me,” he murmured. “You think he was bad? You ain’t seen obsessed yet.”

He kissed her like it hurt. Hands greedy, rough, dragging down the front of her shirt until skin met skin.

“You know why it’s different?” he said between kisses. “’Cause I’m the one who gets to keep you. Not him. Not the accent. Me.”

He bit down gently on her collarbone, made her gasp.

“He had his fun. Now it’s my turn.”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t let her breathe.

By the time he dropped to his knees, hoodie still on, eyes dark and locked on hers, she realized this wasn’t about proving himself.

It was possession.

And he was never giving her back.

Tags: @childishgambinaax @blackisy2k @hamzahsf4vg1rl @siasoup @heyyimmisunderstood

If you want to be tagged in any of my future pieces, click here to sign up for my tag list.

[crimescrimson]

James Sunderland & Maria in Silent Hill 2 (2024)

[puppybei]

Unsaid Dreams

Chapter 4 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: Past pov, in depth description of anxiety, reader and Sukunas first meeting explained, this entire chapter focuses on their past, reader is called a charity case by Sukuna, Sukuna threatens reader, lwk stubborn reader, Highschool au!, Their first kiss!!

Word count: 2.7k

The first time you met Sukuna was in High School, you had managed to get a scholarship into one of the more prestigious schools in your district. The sun glared above you, the straps of your bag suddenly feeling light compared to the weight of the swirling anxiety in your stomach. 

The school was huge, no amount of adjectives you used would truly be able to capture the magnificent and almost fantasy-like essence. The bare bricked walls freckled with the overgrown foliage that was just a bit too messy to be considered purposeful. A georgian style building with gabled roofs, large windows that let sunshine peak into the corridors and classrooms with silk furnished curtains. The whole campus just screamed old money.

It just made you feel more out of place if anything, sticking out like a sore thumb against similar sixteen year olds. The white uniform shirt felt too scratchy against your skin, your tights sticking to you like second skin, heart heavy like something was weighing down every step you took forward. 

But you couldn’t let a few stray butterflies in your stomach stop you from going into the school your fifteen year old self worked her ass off for. You had gotten into the culinary department, mixed with a few other classes that were compulsory to all students. 

The Home Ec lab from this school was praised even in professional settings and you were buzzing at the thought of finally seeing it, state of the art equipment along with teachers that personally taught you. Graduating from their course would basically give you a head start into the culinary world, well at least that’s what you learned from reading comments on reddit and the official school website. 

Your feet basically carried you to the lab on instinct and that's when you saw him for the first time, sitting on the marble countertop next to the electric stove top. His blazer strewn across the stove, tie haphazardly done, sleeves folded upwards to show the tattoos that corded against his muscle. Head turned away from the door, a cigarette placed in between his index and forefinger, smoke clouding the room in a haze. The silk curtains were pulled halfway open, letting the smoke filter out.

The window was propped open, an unfinished garden with multiple cigarette butts on the garden bed found underneath it. Sunlight poured through the window, casting half his face in a shadow as he blew smoke outside, your breath stilled for a moment and for a second all your worries had vanished, that was until he turned his head around and scowled at you, eyeing your very obvious second hand clothes with a condescending look. 

“The fuck you looking at newbie?” 

He got off of the countertop, throwing the cigarette butt out of the window and switching off the exhauster. The pink haired male pulled the blazer over his broad shoulders, uniform shirt straining from where it was tucked into his pants. Shoving your shoulder aside as he left the lab murmuring under his breath about some kind of charity case. 

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you fortunately fought the urge to curse at him. You quickly learned that the boy you saw was Sukuna Ryomen, the heir of the corporation that basically funded the school as well as the Student Council President. He was feared by the student and staff bodies, no one dared to go against him except his group of friends, and it was apparent to everyone else to not go near the Home Ec lab before the morning assembly and after the last bell. Well at the very least you didn’t seem to piss him off too much. 

Contrary to overexaggerated teen shows about scholarship kids, most of the student body were from upper middle class families, and just 10% of the school were heirs of some kind of corporation. You made friends with the kids in the Home Ec and they filled you in on all the people to avoid at every cost, as well as the people you should get close to.

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you were someone who used the facilities given to you as much as you could, this was also backed up by the fact that unlike the other kids that went to the same course, you were not provided with a fully furnished kitchen and high end ovens. So if you wanted a fair chance at competing with the other kids you were going to have to use the facilities, Sukuna or not.

The next time you met Sukuna was in the compulsory English Literature classes. Surprisingly enough, to squash any rumours of the heir being favoured over other students, and to avoid any bribery scandals he was placed in the same class as the ‘scholarship student’. He was sitting a few rows behind you, looking way more like a President than when you first saw him, his gaze bore into the textbook in front of him, spinning a pen around his finger lazily. He didn’t notice you stealing glances at him. 

The minute you got permission from the Home Ec teacher to use the lab after school, you immediately made your way to the culinary labs, spinning your keychain around your finger, humming a happy tune as you basically skipped to the lab.

Though you did expect to see Sukuna, it still stirred a feeling of irritation in your chest to see him walk around like he owned the school- granted he kind of basically did, but that’s an abuse of power. 

Only this time Sukuna was completely lying down on one of the plain countertops, set there so that students could present their dishes in bulk. His eyes were shut in slumber, chest rising up and down in slow breaths. Pink hair fell against his forehead, a rare display of when he didn't have it gelled upwards, mouth set into a loose scowl, which came as a shock to you because you were sure he was born with that permanent frown stuck on his face. 

You moved to the other side of the lab, pulling the curtains open to let as little of light in without waking up the heir. Cooking came easy to you- or atleast baking did, the quiet repetitive movements, the sweetness of the pastry, the swirl of the whipped cream. Your dream was to hopefully become a baker, or a patissiere- you hadn't yet decided. Being a patissiere meant you got to work directly with just pastries and sweets, while being a baker meant you got to work with broader horizons. 

By the time you were done thinking to yourself the oven beeped and you almost fell out of the high stool chair, scrambling to shut it down and pull mittens over your hands.You had made madeleines, a comfort bake of yours.The madeleines came out near perfect if you had to say so yourself, smooth crispy outer layer with a contrasting softness when you bit into it. A giddy smile danced across your features, happy that the first thing you made in the lab came out so well even if you baked them on stealth mode to not awaken the short tempered President. 

What you failed to notice when you were too busy stuffing your face with madeleines was the dark figure that loomed behind you, snatching one from your hand, 

“So you’re the little rat that decided to disturb me,”

His voice came out in a low growl, threatening almost, and you stiffened up at the heat that seeped through your clothes even though he held an appropriate amount of distance between you both,

“Is this some kind of new tactic? Playing housewife to garner for my attention?,”

As you turned around he popped the baked good into his mouth, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, 

“At least it doesn’t taste like ass, should’ve expected that from the charity case,”

He wiped the crumbs off his fingers on your apron, gripping your shoulder tightly, bending down to meet you at eye level, 

“The next time you pull this shit again I’m going to fucking kill you. Capisce?” 

You felt your eyebrows tug upwards in shock, shaking your head no while you muttered something about facilities. You remember his face twisting into something dark before he pushed you, the back of your hip hitting the counter, 

“Get the fuck out of my way pest,” 

The six foot man snarled, pushing past you once again as he left the lab, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air long after he left.

No way in hell were you going to let a man boss you around after how hard you worked to get into this school- especially if he was some kind of stuck up spoiled brat.

The next day you went to the lab again, this time baking a rose tea pound cake. Sukuna sat on a stool opposite to the oven, glaring at you- basically seething as he grumbled curses every time you moved past him to peek at your creation. You ignored every word he said though, mind steeled down, no matter what offensive insult he spewed out. By the end of the day he even stole a slice of the pound cake and a small part of you was smug, there was no one who could fight the goodness of your pastries, you didn’t get into this school without a reason after all.

This cat and mouse game continued for the next few weeks, at one point the insults had boiled down to mere grunts when Sukuna would spot you. Most afternoons he spent lying across a cushioned bench underneath the huge windows, letting the sunlight dance across his features as he dozed off. He would always grab a slice of what you made though, you figured he was taking it as some kind of compensation for letting you bake in peace. 

Some days his friends would come over, barging into the room and interrupting the comfortable silence you and Sukuna had formed. A loud group consisting of Gojo, Geto, and Toji who got in with Sukuna’s help, though he excelled in sports and could've gotten a sports scholarship if he wanted. Sukuna would always leave immediately when they came, casting you a glance backwards. You always left behind a little of what you made on those days, finding them gone when you checked the next morning, though you said nothing to him. 

The quiet sort-of-friendship you had formed changed completely when the English Literature teacher paired you up for a project, forcing you both to talk to each other and be in slightly uncomfortable proximity. Your irritation had long disappeared for the KOC heir, now replaced with something akin to fondness. 

“You smell sweet,” 

Your head jerked up from where you were bent over trying to make sense of the poem you were assigned to analyse, 

“Sweet?” 

You questioned, quirking a brow upwards.

“Like that brown thing you use when making your shit,”

You pondered for a second, Sukuna’s sharp eyes gaze resting on your features, 

“...you mean vanilla essence?”

A giggle erupted from you and Sukuna looked like you had personally offended his entire family, his ears heating up as he rested his face on his palm, elbow propped up on the table,

“Whatever. Finish your work pest,”

You smiled in return, watching Sukuna turn his concentration back to researching more about the poet’s life, 

“You smell good too,”

You hummed, turning your attention back to your own work, sneaking glances at Sukuna in between. Unbeknownst to you both, Sukuna had fallen for you- hook, line and sinker. He felt his heart stutter in his chest when you giggled, nothing had sounded more soothing to him and he had already staked his claim on you long before you were even his. 

You on the other hand, had started to regret your notions about the heir, unknown to the general student population, Sukuna was quite the hard worker. He would never skip a Student Council meeting, coming to the lab afterwards with a heavier gait, exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders. Other days he would bring his work into the lab, face scrunched up as he worked through the papers. He always stayed at the top of the grade, Gojo and Geto falling right behind him. 

The English project lasted a week exactly, though the after effects lasted far longer. Sukuna had now deemed it okay to constantly be in your vicinity, brushing his arm or thigh against you whenever he moved closer. Even after you had moved back to your old place, Sukuna shot one look at the guy sitting next to you who scrambled away without a peep, giving the heir his seat.

The pink haired man had even started asking about your day and unfortunately your heart was betraying your brain with every month that passed by. The small physical contact you and Sukuna shared sent electric shots down your spine. Heat creeping up your neck once he moved from vaguely admitting your skills were up to standard to complimenting them. You had also started to talk more with him, he was a quiet man at heart and you were more than glad to fill the silence with your chatter. 

Quiet evenings in the lab turned to him following you around or sitting right opposite to you as you baked, following your every movement with a softer gaze. He would still fall asleep occasionally but it was always after acknowledging your presence and making small talk with you. When he worked on his documents he sat right opposite to your workstation, taking breaks where he would just bore holes into your cheek as you talked. 

On colder days he would drop his blazer over your shoulders, complaining about hearing your teeth chatter with a blush across his face. You accepted, perhaps even more flushed. The goods you baked were now put in a little plastic bag with ribbons, ones he pocketed and never returned. 

One day he had fully switched to calling you by your first name, stopping you in your tracks as your heart thumped so hard against your chest you were sure he could hear it too. In response you started to call him by his first name too and when you accidentally called him ‘Ryo’ and he didn't seem murderous, you let it continue. 

Sukuna did not allow anyone else the privilege of that and your feelings for him grew stronger by the start of the third year. When Sukuna caught you getting confessed to by one of the underclassmen in your program, he merely whisked you away with a grip on your arm, crowding you against a wall in the Home Ec lab, lifting your chin up using his hand to cup your cheek as he silently motioned for consent. You nodded and Sukuna pressed his lips against yours, it was an inexperienced naive kiss but within a few months he had mastered the art- as expected of Sukuna, even with something so intimate he would not fall second place.

Sukuna’s favorite part of the day was when he got you all to himself after school, nuzzling his head into your shoulder like some kind of overgrown bear while he had you seated on his lap, petting his hair as he grumbled about the rest of the incompetent members of the Student Council. Freshly baked goods sat on the countertop and he forced you to feed them to him while you giggled, fuck he could just die there and be at peace.

You never asked Sukuna about the nature of your relationship, not when he cornered you almost daily in the lab, not when he had you seated on his lap whenever he was in need of a little more comfort, not when he had his head on your lap while he dozed off, not when he forbade Gojo from touching your pastries, not when he glared at any guy who approached you and not when he allowed only you to see him vulnerable.

This unlabeled relationship continued well into college, where you both denied having a significant other but neither of you touched another human being on campus, he was yours and you were his and that was all that mattered back then.

Previous Current Next

A/n: Omg this was so much longer than my last one!! I put my blood sweat and tears into it haha. I hope yall enjoyed!! Feeling a bit evil as the confrontation doesn’t happen yet.. hehe.. I was so tempted to split this into two chapters but I really just wanted one chapter for the flashback. Likes, reblogs and Comments appreciated!!!

Taglist: @lady-of-blossoms @shokosbunny @after-laughter-come-tears @glads-stuff @acidrefiux @linny-bloggs @dahliadaenerys @gojotech @emi311 @nina-from-317 @katsukiseyebrows

[wordsmeetwbb]

Two Minutes

Word count: 3.4k

Content: smut (semi-public, Daddy!Paige, sub!Azzi)

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: So it only took UConn winning the national championship to get me to finish a fic for the first time in a month (I have 5 different ones half written. my bad), but here is some Pazzi smut to celebrate! Send in your reactions bc I'm missing all my anons and my ego needs a boost. Enjoy!

________

The team had a tradition of going out for a nice dinner after a big game. They’d vote on a restaurant, get all dressed up, and go out to eat and bond with each other. Those nights were some of Paige’s favorite memories from her five years in college. Getting to eat good food and spend quality time with the people she loved- almost nothing was better than that.

Tonight, they’ve picked a nice Italian restaurant and all 14 of them are seated around a long table. Azzi is on Paige’s right, and Caroline is on her left, but Paige can’t honestly say she’s paying much attention to anyone other than Azzi.

She’s in a long sleeveless black dress, the fabric clinging to every curve and dip of her body. She even has a little makeup on for once. It’s just some mascara, a dark lip gloss, and a little bit of blush on her cheeks, but Paige is entranced. Between every sentence she contributes to the group’s conversation, her eyes return to Azzi.

Azzi’s not immune to Paige’s staring. She had started the meal by pretending to be annoyed by the attention, but the faux annoyance quickly devolved into blushing and heavy-lidded glances. Even now, after so many years of knowing the younger girl, knowing the effect she had on her still brought butterflies to her stomach. It was an intoxicating feeling.

The conversation at the table dies down slightly when their food arrives, everybody digging into their meals with all the enthusiasm and hunger that comes with being a D1 athlete. It doesn’t keep Paige’s eyes off Azzi, though.

Paige has her fork halfway to her mouth, noodles twirled haphazardly around the tongs, when she feels it. Two fingers slowly drag up the outside of her thigh over the fabric of her black shorts. Her hand freezes for a second before she remembers to shove the pasta into her mouth. Azzi’s fingers reach the crease of Paige’s hip and then reverse their movement back down her thigh. Paige’s eyes dart over to find Azzi already looking at her.

Paige raises an eyebrow, questioning Azzi’s goals. Azzi just sends her a sweet smile and goes back to her own plate of pasta, her hand leaving Paige’s leg. The blonde almost wants to argue, to reach over and replace Azzi’s hand where it had been on her thigh, but she restrains herself.

“-right, Paige?” Paige shakes her head, quickly trying to tune back into the conversation.

“What?” She asks. KK, who had been the one to speak originally, laughs at her.

“Is that pasta so good you can’t pay attention to me, P Boogers?” KK teases. Paige holds up a hand, flipping KK off quickly before a waiter walks by and shoots her a judgmental look.

“What was your question, Kamorea?” Paige raises an eyebrow, and KK grins.

“Over the summer, when you leave us” -Paige is hit with a pang of sadness before shoving it down- “I’m gonna be the one you miss the most, right? None of these other idiots have the special bond we have,” KK teases. Paige snorts.

“Yeah, right. By ‘special bond,’ do you mean your mission to bother me more than anyone else?” KK’s mouth hasn’t moved from a wide grin since the conversation started. The rest of the team has been roped into their antics by now, and various expressions of disagreement are obvious.

“KK, you can’t seriously think you’re Paige’s favorite,” Ice argues from down the table. KK sticks out her tongue at the taller girl. Then Jana is getting involved, stating that she’s actually Paige’s favorite child. She cites all the breakfasts Paige had made for her before sunrise during Ramadan, and it only makes everybody grow louder with their own counterclaims and arguments.

Amid the chaos, Azzi’s hand returns to Paige’s leg. This time, Azzi’s touch isn’t gentle or soothing. No, now Azzi’s fingers are digging into the sensitive flesh of Paige’s inner thigh, far too high up to be appropriate in such a public setting. Luckily, the white tablecloth covering the table hides the movement, but Paige can’t hide the gasp it draws from her lips.

Caroline nudges Paige from her seat next to the blonde.

“You okay, Paige?” she asks, face open with concern. Paige only gets one word into her reply before Azzi’s fingers are suddenly tracing a line straight up to the heat between Paige’s legs. Paige swallows and tries again.

“Yeah, all good. Just remembered I forgot to… do an assignment,” she lies. Caroline raises a skeptical eyebrow but shrugs and leaves Paige alone. Paige lets out a slow breath, trying to get herself under control. Then Azzi is leaning into her space, the warmth from the younger girl’s arm bleeding into Paige’s skin.

“You gotta stop, baby,” Paige mumbles, keeping her voice low so none of their teammates will overhear. Azzi tilts her head, and suddenly her hand that isn’t busy on Paige’s thigh is gripping her chin, angling Paige’s face so she’s forced to look Azzi in the eyes. Paige almost moans right there at the table. It’s not normal for Azzi to be this bold in general, but especially in public, at a table with all their teammates, surrounded by random other people eating at the restaurant. Paige squeezes her legs together tightly.

“You’re terrible at hiding your reactions to things, baby,” Azzi starts. Paige’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Yeah, great observation. That’s why I told you to stop, ‘cause I can’t hide it.” Azzi smiles sweetly. She looks dangerous. Paige is incredibly turned on. She shifts in her chair, trying to relieve some of the ache between her thighs.

“This is your warning to make your face look normal and keep it that way,” Azzi warns. Paige tries her best to quickly school her features into a mask of composure. She’s not entirely sure she’s successful. Azzi leans a little closer, speaking softly into Paige’s ear so no one else can hear.

“I know we’ve been busy lately, but it’s been two weeks since we had sex at this point, and I’ve been wet since the press conference after the game. So I’m going to go to the bathroom to take care of this, and you’re more than welcome to come help,” Azzi murmurs. Any composure Paige had managed to achieve before is completely wiped away by the time Azzi finishes her first sentence.

“Fuck,” Paige whispers. Her face feels hot, and she knows her cheeks are bright red. Whatever the opposite of discreet is, she thinks, that’s exactly what she’s being right now. Azzi slides one finger down Paige’s jaw before letting go of her chin and leaning away. As she stands up from the table, she leans down to whisper into Paige’s ear once more.

“Oh, by the way, I’m not wearing any underwear,” she says, voice soft and teasing. Paige is gone.

It takes every ounce of Paige’s restraint to keep herself seated at the table for a few more minutes. In all honesty, it’s probably only enough time to take her departure from obvious to suspicious, but she can’t wait any longer. She can feel herself soaking through her boxers with every second she sits at the table, thinking about Azzi in the bathroom. Is she already touching herself? Dripping down her thighs from how wet she is?

It’s that mental image that drives Paige from her seat, making some half-assed excuse to Caroline about needing to use the restroom.

She makes a beeline for the restroom, knocking urgently on the door when she reaches it. It takes barely a second for Azzi to open the door and tug Paige inside before promptly locking it behind them again. Then she has the blonde pressed up against the door, and their lips are crushed together, tongues meeting hungrily when Azzi licks into Paige’s mouth.

Paige groans when Azzi brings her knee in between her legs. She grinds herself down, mouth falling open as she pants.

“Shit Az. Hang on, wait, lemme get you first, ‘kay?” Azzi looks at Paige skeptically, grinding the older girl down onto her thigh to prove a point as it rips a moan from Paige’s throat. Paige curses again.

“Come on, Az. I know you’re all worked up. Gotta be dripping down your legs by now, right? Said you’ve been wet since the post-game and I know you don’t have anything under that dress. Probably hurts, doesn’t it, baby? Let me take care of it. I’ll make it feel better,” Paige coos. Azzi’s determination collapses, giving way to the pure need she’s been feeling for days at this point.

Paige flips their position, shoving Azzi up against the sink and dropping to her knees. She pushes the fabric of Azzi’s dress up, first past her knees and then up to her stomach.

“Hold it up,” she commands. Azzi’s hands scramble to obey. “Good girl,” Paige praises. Azzi feels herself clench around nothing. She presses her thighs together to relieve the ache.

Paige isn’t having any of that, quickly shoving Azzi’s legs apart and gripping her thighs with a strength that they both know will leave bruises on Azzi’s skin. Azzi sighs out a soft breath.

“Shit. Look at that baby. I was right. You’re dripping,” Paige murmurs. Azzi leans her head back. The image of Paige on her knees in front of her, assessing everything she sees, ready to please her, is far too much for Azzi to handle right now.

“Fuck. Just touch me,” she demands. Paige’s hands leave Azzi’s skin.

“Nuh-uh,” she tuts. “I wanna take care of you, mama, but you gotta be good for me. That means not making demands without saying please,” Paige says sternly. Azzi squirms.

“Paige, we have to be fast. Everybody’s gonna notice we’re gone,” she whispers. Paige just looks up at her, eyebrows raised as if to say “And what do you want me to do about it?” Azzi swallows a groan.

“Please,  Paige. Please touch me, and please be fast about it so we don’t get caught,” she asks. Paige smiles and her hands return to Azzi’s thighs, sliding up until they find the wetness dripping from her slit.

“Fuck, honey. You need it that bad, huh?” Azzi whines and bucks her hips in an attempt to get Paige’s touch where she really needs it. Luckily, they’re pressed for time, and Paige doesn’t think it’s quite worth it to make her beg again.

Paige’s fingers meet Azzi’s swollen clit and begin to circle roughly. Azzi swears and her hips move of their own accord. Paige uses her unoccupied hand to shove Azzi more firmly against the sink. Her forearm forms a bar across her pelvis, preventing any more movements. Azzi’s head falls forward.

“Paige, please. More,” she pleads. Maybe it’s the multiple weeks without sex or the teasing Azzi had done at the table earlier or the leftover adrenaline from the game that afternoon, but Paige’s response gives away the very particular mood she’s in.

“How do you ask me the right way, mama?” Azzi’s brain buffers for a moment. She had said please. She had asked nicely for what she wanted. Then it hits her. Oh. She knows what Paige means. Her legs twitch and it has nothing to do with the fingers still circling her clit.

“Please, Daddy? Please give me more. I need it so bad, Daddy, please.” Azzi knows that was the right answer when Paige groans, her arm shoving Azzi harder into the counter, and two of her fingers slip into the younger girl’s cunt.

“Fuck. Oh god, yes, that’s so good,” Azzi breathes. The stretch of Paige’s fingers is easy, slick and smooth from how wet she is. Paige’s thumb starts up the circles on Azzi’s clit again, driving the brunette higher. 

“Please, baby, can I have your mouth?” Azzi asks. Paige pulls back, her eyebrows raised as she waits. It only takes a second before Azzi realizes her mistake.

“Please, Daddy,” she corrects. Paige smiles, removing her arm from Azzi’s torso and instead bringing it down to pet along warm brown skin.

“Good girl, Az. We gotta hurry up now, so do you think you can cum in two minutes for me? Can you do that for Daddy?” Paige murmurs. Azzi nods desperately. One of her hands comes down to fist in Paige’s hair. She doesn’t bother mentioning that it probably won’t even take that long for Paige to get her off.

Paige pulls away for only a few seconds, rummaging in her pockets, but it’s far too long for Azzi. Then Paige pulls out her phone, clicks a few things on the screen, and then hands it to Azzi. It’s the clock app. It’s a stopwatch. Azzi’s legs feel weak.

“Shit,” she mumbles.

“When I put my mouth on you, you start the timer, okay mama? You get two minutes, and when it hits two minutes exactly, you tell me and I stop. Got it? You cum in two minutes right now, or you wait until we get home later.” Azzi is nodding, unable to do anything else. Her eyes are trained on Paige’s. She can’t look away.

“Are you gonna be good for me, Az? Gonna follow directions and do what I told you to?” Paige prompts. Azzi is beyond desperate at this point. She knows they’ve already been gone from the table for far too long, but she needs to cum too bad to really put any energy into caring about what their teammates are probably guessing right now.

“Yes, yes, Daddy. I‘m gonna be good for you Daddy, gonna be your good girl.” The words are spilling from Azzi’s mouth, like the more she agrees, the faster it’ll get Paige to act. It works because before Azzi can even take a breath, Paige’s tongue is licking a strip through Azzi’s folds and humming at the way she tastes.

“Oh god,” Azzi groans, and then remembers she’s been given a task. She quickly hits start on the stopwatch, watching the numbers tick up as seconds go by.

It doesn’t take Paige long to get into her rhythm at all. Before Azzi can even get a good, stabilizing grip on the counter behind her, Paige has her face completely buried between Azzi’s thighs, tongue teasing her hole just to slide back up and suck the younger girl’s clit into her mouth. It takes thirty seconds of this for Azzi to be a whining, writhing, breathy mess.

“Please, please, so close,” she begs as the tension in her stomach grows tighter and tighter. Paige doubles her efforts, sliding two fingers back into Azzi’s cunt effortlessly, meeting no resistance. Azzi lets out a whine that’s so pathetic she’s embarrassed of it even in her current needy state.

“Gonna cum for me honey? Can feel you clenching around my fingers. You’re just dripping down my hand. So fucking dirty, Az, look at that,” Paige says and she thrusts her fingers in and out roughly. Her voice is low and hoarse as she speaks against Azzi’s clit. The vibrations, combined with Paige’s words, push Azzi even closer.

“Fuck, fuck- Daddy please, gonna cum. Can I cum? Need to cum, please Daddy, please, let me cum-” the words are spilling unbidden from Azzi’s lips in between the other noises Paige is drawing from her.

“How much time is left, mama?” Paige asks instead of answering. She keeps her fingers moving. It feels like every thrust is harder than the last. Azzi’s eyes dart down to Paige’s phone screen.

“I have thirty seconds. Please Paige. Daddy, please, please, I still have time, please let me,” Azzi begs. She’s suddenly consumed by the fear that Paige will draw this out for too long, making her beg to cum until she runs out of time, until she has to tell Paige to stop and wait until they get home after dinner. A tear rolls down her cheek as Paige’s teeth scrape lightly over her clit. Her hips buck, feeling completely and utterly overstimulated.

“Please, Daddy!” She cries once again, and she tries desperately to keep her eyes open and trained on the seconds ticking up on the stopwatch. Only twenty seconds now.

“Cum for me mama. Been such a good girl. You can cum now. Make a mess all over my hand, baby, that’s it.” Paige talks her through it as Azzi trembles through her orgasm, wave after wave ripping through her as Paige keeps moving her hand since her mouth is occupied with speaking.

“Oh god,” Azzi whimpers as she starts to come down. Paige doesn’t stop the movement of her fingers, dragging them in and out of Azzi’s pussy with obscene, slick sounds. Azzi knows better than to push Paige away right now. She’d learned quickly that when Paige was Daddy, she liked to draw out Azzi’s pleasure and overstimulation until she physically couldn’t take it anymore.

Only when Azzi is shaking and whining, one of her hands gripping tightly in Paige’s hair as her hips jump against Paige’s hand, does the blonde pull her fingers out.

Looking up to make sure Azzi is watching, Paige sucks each of her fingers into her mouth, cleaning Azzi’s wetness off every digit. Azzi lets out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Eyes on me, honey,” Paige orders. Azzi’s eyes snap back open, once again trained on Paige’s lips. Paige’s expression softens, and she rises from her knees, licking into Azzi’s mouth gently.

“You did so good for me, baby. Gotta get cleaned up now so we can go back to the table, ‘kay? Can I clean you up?” Paige asks softly. Azzi nods, eyes still locked on Paige’s. She hasn’t been given permission to look away yet, so she doesn’t. Paige’s chest warms with pride as she grabs some paper towels, wetting them and then gently wiping them along Azzi’s thighs to clean her up. Azzi does exactly what’s expected of her and stands there obediently.

“Being such a good girl, Azzi. So good. I’m so proud of you,” Paige keeps soothing. Azzi has finally noticed how delightfully fuzzy and detached her brain feels. She’s not worried, though. Paige will take care of her.

“We’re gonna go back to the table now, okay honey?” Paige starts. Azzi’s chest tightens with panic. She can’t make conversation with her girls like this. She can’t let them see her like this, fucked dumb and submissive. The panic is obvious on her face, prompting Paige to run her hands along Azzi’s arms in an attempt to calm her.

“Hey, it’s alright. We don’t have to stay. We’re gonna go over there, I’m gonna tell everyone you don’t feel well and I’m taking you home, and then we’re gonna leave. Does that sound okay, mama?” Paige murmurs. She tilts Azzi’s chin up to meet her eyes more easily. Azzi’s expression is so open and trusting and wrecked that Paige feels something in her chest crack.

Azzi nods, eyes big and shiny. Paige presses a soft kiss to her lips, stroking a few fingers over her cheeks.

“I’m gonna take care of you, mama. Gonna get you home so you can relax and come down from this when you’re ready, okay?” Azzi’s eyebrows draw together as Paige starts to pull away, leading her to the door of the bathroom. She tugs on Paige’s sleeve to stop her.

“I don’t wanna come down,” she mumbles. Paige’s confusion turns into a smile.

“Oh, honey, are you still feeling needy?” Azzi nods, relief threading through her body. “Okay, baby. When we get home you can cum as many times as you need to. Just gotta wait until we get there. Can you be good and wait for me?” Paige asks gently. Azzi nods. Her words have abandoned her, but Paige seems to understand.

Azzi is in a pleasant daze as Paige leads her out of the bathroom, back to the table to make an excuse to their teammates, and then to her car. The daze continues as they climb the stairs to Paige’s apartment, as they enter her room, and as Paige makes Azzi shatter into a ball of pleasure many more times throughout the night. And throughout it all, Azzi feels safe and knows she is loved, and is incredibly glad they don’t have to go two weeks without sex again anytime soon.

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter six: friends? more like co-workers

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

previous part | next part

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you and caleb ride the coelum express. a nightmare occurs. caleb and you head off on a work trip.

word count: 8.0k words

warnings: not proofread!

author's note: hi everyone! i just wanna say that pt.6 is lowkey like a filler episode! parts 7/8 are going to be plot oriented! they'll most likely be released next weekend! this one just needs to get us to the next angsty part ;)

content warning: reader touches caleb's crotch, mentions of cunnilingus/hickeys, lmk if i forgot anything else

my rotten apples <3 : @militaryapple , @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexireads , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @i-messed-up-big-time , @motheraiya55 , @vvonunie , @1uv4jiya , @yuuuumii , @okumurarinsbabe , @mcdepressed290 , @luleck , @sanzy4 , @lucifers-silhouette , @crazygirl3001 , @april-likes-smut , @kazbrkker , @l1ttlebabyapple , @writersandroses , @kookie-my-little-sunshine , @curryexpress , @earthykitsunesrain , @raining4food , @chaoticbardlady99 , @young-adult-summer

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The expression on your face is absolutely adorable to Caleb. He loves the way your lips part, the shock and awe hidden behind your dark sunglasses, and he adored how you held onto the greasy breakfast sandwich just a little tighter when the realization that it is him at your side finally hit you. He tilts his head to the side, waiting for you to form some snarky remark or comment about how much you hate him or that he should throw himself off of the Coelum Express.

Sure, it is tiring to hear the constant negative comments, but it’s well worth it if he can spend another hour between your legs. Even losing more of his memory is worth it to see your face.

“I’m…” you begin to speak, voice falling off, “I’m too hungover to deal with you right now.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. He watches as you stand from your seat, shimmying past him. You aim for the doors but they close as room as you step into the aisle. The train rolls back before pushing forward.

You lose your balance but Caleb is quick to grab you. His large hands hold your sides. The Coelum Express’ pace quickens. The Colonel helps guide you back to your seat, helping you sit back down.

You readjust in your seat and hold the sandwich closer to your chest. Caleb hums in amusement, holding back a laugh at your failed escape. Slowly, you turn your back to him, revolving in the plush blue seat to face out the window instead of him. Caleb leans with you, trying not to lose sight of your face.

You stare out the train’s window. The breakfast sandwich stares at you, the perfectly cooked egg glistening in the morning sun, the lustful sight of the perfect breakfast meal making your stomach rumble. You take another slow and deliberate bite. You swallow the mouthful then turn back to Caleb.

His head is rolled back, chin tilted up, eyes closed. He lets out a quiet sigh. He spreads his legs open and readjusts his position, hands resting in his lap.

“Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“I have a question.”

“And I have an answer,” Caleb opens his eyes. His head falls to the side, purple eyes landing on you. His dark hair falls onto his forehead. Your arm twitches. Desperation fills your body; you fight the urgent desire to keep his face clear so you can memorize the intricate details of his face.

Caleb’s gaze softens. Your heart pounds in your chest, making your ears ring.

Why does he always have to look at you like that? Doesn’t he know how much it effects you?

Butterflies erupt in your stomach but you push away the feeling, clearing your throat. You break away from his gaze, looking at the train’s surprisingly clean floor, before turning your head back to him.

“Why are you here?” you ask. Caleb’s brows furrow for a split second before relaxing. He tilts his body towards you, reaching out to slip the sunglasses off of your face once again.

“I went to your house to check in on you but you weren’t there, so…” a smile flashes across his face, the man nudging your side, “I came here to make sure my pretty bird was okay…aaaaaaand I needed a ride back to Skyhaven. I killed two birds with one stone.”

Your lips press into a thin line and you stare at him with an expression that can only say one thing: really?

“You’re a Colonel…don’t you have your own, oh I don’t know, jet or plane or whatever to take you to to and from Skyhaven?” You lean into him, eyes narrowed, ready to pull apart whatever story he comes up with.

To your surprise, Caleb leans in, your noses just barely grazing over each other. You gulp and stay where you are, not wanting to back down. The man in front of you lets out a soft chuckle. He reaches up and messes with your hair.

“That’s for official business only, pretty bird,” he winks. You gasp and pull away, looking at your reflection in the window to try and salvage your hair.

It’s of no use. You might as well accept defeat now than go through more embarrassment that is bound to happen.

A yawn floats from your mouth and you’re quick to cover it with a cough but not quick enough to hide it from Caleb. He inches closer to you and flips away the small arm rest that separates the two chairs. You glance at him, another yawn threatening to escape you. You swallow it and avoid his gaze, taking another bite out of the delicious breakfast sandwich.

“You must be tired. You can use my shoulder as a pillow,” his words are oh so tempting. You could use a nap right now, even though it is still the early morning. The ride back to Skyhaven is a solid couple of hours…

Caleb watches you with a steady eye. You are completely zoned out and in a whole other world that he wishes he could be a part of. He wishes he can crawl inside your mind and pick apart your thoughts one by one, fully getting to know and understand how you think and feel so he knows exactly what to do to make you fall in love with him.

When your eyes finally meet his after a moment’s contemplation, you give him a shy nod. Without wasting another awkward second, knowing that you just need to get it over with, you close the gap between you two and rest your head on his shoulder. Unconsciously, you place your hand on his chest and get comfortable on his side.

Caleb’s breath gets caught in his throat, heart racing. He wraps an arm around your shoulders. It slips between your back and the chair when you readjust yourself, his hand now trapped on your side. His fingers rest against your waist, fiddling with the leftover fabric of your hoodie.

His heart beat is strong. Loud. You find peace in its rhythm and close your eyes, syncing your heartbeat to his. You also didn’t mind his hand staying on your side, the warmth bringing you comfort as you slowly slip into sleep on his side. Your eyes feel heavy, breathing slow, and your hoodie keeps the warmth in your side just right. It is the perfect conditions for sleep to take you away.

What’s that saying about your inner child feeling safe with someone? That a person is able to fall asleep quicker with someone they feel safe with? So, you guess that doesn’t hurt that you feel safe with him too, knowing that if anything bad were to happen that Caleb would stop it before it even got to you.

Maybe it’s the first sign of your heart actually opening up to him. Could a piece of you actually want him to hold space in your heart and mind? Or do you just like the attention from him?

You like to think, though, that you’re using him for his body heat and weird obsession with you. You know that he’d give you the world if you asked, so why not use him as a pillow?

Caleb watches the top of your head. Your hoodie is a faded red color and it somehow matches the hot pink sweatpants you have on. Those gemstones must feel like a bitch to sit on. So uncomfortable and so inconvenient for your sleep. He quietly huffs and pulls you closer to him.

Caleb takes the half-eaten breakfast sandwich out from your hands and wraps it back up, tucking it away in his backpack. He reaches over your body and pulls down the train’s blinds with ease so the sun doesn’t interfere with your sleep and wake you up.

Whenever you readjust on him, Caleb makes for sure that he molds to what you want, his hands keeping you tucked firmly against the train seats, not allowing you to slip off and onto the floor.

A yawn leaves his lips. The comfort of your body infects him with slumber of his own. He’s more hesitant to fall asleep though, fighting it away as the Coelum Express slips through the clouds at a tilted angle, your weight fully relying on him now.

He switches his position and tries his best not to wake you. Your sleep goes by unaffected and he celebrates the silent victory with a yawn and slow blink. He glances out the window, peering at the clouds that absorb the sun’s rays of light from behind the train’s shade. The sky is at the perfect shade of blue. It’s perfect conditions to go flying. Caleb looks down at you, a small smile spreading across his face. He pushes away loose strands of hair out of your face, tucking the hair behind your ear.

Before he knows it, he’s fallen under the depths of slumber, falling in beside you.

Caleb wishes that it was you who tapped him out at his DAA graduation. He could see the image so clearly.

The sky is just as blue as it is now with a few fluffy, white clouds hanging in the sky. He’s been standing in the summer heat for hours as the ceremony ticked by, going through the motions and chants that he and his platoon memorized. His purple eyes tried to find you in the crowd, to see where you were hiding in the bleachers the base set up for the ceremony.

Were you in the pink floral dress? No! You’re in the jean jacket holding a large bouquet of flowers! No…that isn’t you either. Mayne you’re wearing all black with the cool sunglasses!

Anticipation would have bubbled up inside of his chest. When Caleb finally took his place among other DAA graduates their uniforms crisp and clean, he couldn’t wait to see you. His eyes would dart all around, taking secretive cover under the shade from his cap, scanning the crowd to see where you are and when you were bound to find him.

When he finally spotted you, his heart skipped a beat. Your dress is a light blue, matching the sky perfectly. Your hair hangs over your shoulders, the top half pulled back by a thin white ribbon, and frames your face so perfectly. He can see the shine from your glossy lips as you approach him, hands behind your back.

The tease you are, you’d stand in front of him for a few minutes, which in turn feels like hours to him. He has to hold back the urge to not break out of his stance, to not sweep you off your feet and give you such a sweet and tender kiss right then and there.

“Don’t break on me, flyboy,” you’d tease with a smile. His face didn’t crack, though. Caleb had to show you just how strong he is, even if it’s resisting the devilish temptation that is you and your beautiful face and gorgeous body.

Fuck, he is so in love with you.

You even circled him. Your hair got caught in the wind, the white ribbon in your hair sweeping across his vision. Once you returned in front of him, that’s when you tilted your head to the side, eyes meeting his. You would have taken a step forward, closing the gap, and rested a single hand on his chest, fingers spreading across the dark navy fabric of his dress uniform jacket.

Caleb would have grabbed you so fast, pulling you in for a tender kiss. Oh, how he’s missed you. His pretty bird, his one and only. You would giggle against his lips, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it onto your own. He’d dip you down and kiss you some more, showing everyone that you are his and his only.

Life is funny, though, and life is so fucking cruel that Caleb wishes he can turn back the clock and race to you instead of her.

You’re too tired to dream like Caleb. You are in purgatory, mind not imaginative enough for a dream or nightmare to occur, nothing to make you cling onto. Your arms are crossed over your chest, Caleb’s hand now fulling resting on your stomach, slipped under your hoodie, fingers spread out across the thin tank top you wear.

So little layers between you.

Caleb stirs in his sleep. His right arm flexes, fingers digging into the material of your tank top. His touch leaves red marks on your skin. You don’t wake up, though, and remain under the ignorance of unconsciousness.

His brows knit together. Beads of sweat form on his forehead. His grip on you tightens, his right fingers burying deeper and deeper into your skin. He’s sure to leave purple bruises behind, to mark your skin as a temporary scar of his trauma and fears.

All Caleb sees in his dream is you. As soon as he lifts you back up from the dipped kiss, you’re snatched away from his arms by Farspace Fleet soldiers. You claw at the air, trying to get back to him tears running down your face. Caleb’s yells and protests fall on silent ears, the world around him turning a blind eye as you’re dragged away and into a gargantuan transport aircraft that sits nearby.

He sprints after you, his right arm extended out. You cry out his name. Your screams are animalistic and filled with nothing but terror. You try your best to break free from the guards but are quickly sedated by a familiar face: Professor Lucius.

Caleb reaches the aircraft, running up the tilted door. Suddenly, darkness overtakes him it’s as if he’s pushed out of the plane. He drops through space, stars and galaxies passing him by while your screams and cries for help make his ears bleed. He collides with the ground, a loud smack reverberating against the damp, concrete walls.

He opens his eyes and tries his best to focus on the scene in front of him.

You’re alone in a familiar room, one that he’s had plenty of visits to, and are tied to a lab table. The Professor’s eyes travel your body up and down, wires and needles threatening to poke into your skin. He drags his grimy fingers along your pure skin and Caleb fights to break free from his restraints, unable to stop the Professor from turning you into a lab rat. Just another one of his experiments.

He claws against the metal restraints, his right arm in agony as the professor fixes the dents and scratches that Caleb accumulated on the metal.

All he can do is watch. Watch as the professor’s minions, like Viper, touch and feel your body. Their laughs are like nails on a chalkboard. They contemplate what they should do to you.

Body modification? Should they see if we can give you an Evol of your own? Maybe Viper can wipe your memories and take you, the most perfect specimen, as his own.

His body goes cold as he screams at them to stop, to leave you alone.

“She’s innocent in all of this! Take me instead! Do whatever you want to me! Please! Spare her!”

Caleb is forced to watch as your body convulses on the metal table. To watch as the professor orders Ever’s nurses to invade your body, cutting into your skin to turn you into a mix of flesh and metal…just like him.

They peel back your skin and toss it away, taking their scalpels and wires, fastened them onto your muscles. Your screams are blood curdling. Caleb watches as you arch your back, toes curled as they strip away pieces of your body, replacing them with mechanical parts.

The cherry on top? The Professor made sure to place a Toring chip inside your mind so you’ll remain perfectly obedient to him.

Caleb wishes to save you from the same fate he was subjected to both as a child and adult. He wishes that a needle never tucks itself under your skin, that your mind and memories will never be destroyed and wiped clean, to not question what is real and what isn’t. His reality may be shattered, but he will make for damn sure that yours doesn’t implode from all around you.

His life may be a guessing game at times but you are the silent cure that keeps him grounded through the darkness and black hole of his mind. He doesn’t know if he can let you slip through his fingers again.

You stir awake, eyes shooting open, staring at the headrest of the seat in front of you. Pain shoots through your hipbone. Tears sting your eyes and you look up at Caleb, who wears a pained expression on his face. Your gaze drops down to your hip, watching as his fingers force themselves deeper into your body. You gasp and grab his right wrist, digging your nails into his skin so harshly that it’s sure to draw blood.

Caleb doesn’t even react to your harsh touch.

“No…” Caleb groans in his sleep, “don’t…don’t touch her…”

“Caleb?” You try to move your hips away from him but he pulls you right back to him. “Caleb…wake up, please! Y-You’re hurting me!” You rapidly smack his chest before grabbing his shoulder, giving it a firm shake.

His eyes don’t open but his grip on you somewhat loosens. You’re able to remove his hand and free yourself from the aching pain that shoots through your side. Your body shudders and you push yourself against the side of the train.

Caleb stirs beside you. His arms gently jerk around, reaching for something that isn’t there. His fingers grasp at nothing, dropping to his thighs in a sorrow defeat. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down at an uncontrollable speed. His body flinches, a quiet whimper popping out from his lips. 

You wipe away a single tear that rolls down your cheek, pushing through the lingering pain. Caleb turns in his seat, facing you, fingers trembling before gripping the material of his pants. You reach out and slide your hand on top of his, the other one going to cup his cheek.

The pad of your thumb grazes his skin, bringing him some comfort, trembling under your touch. You squeeze his hand and slowly bring yourself closer to him, not even realizing that the Coelum Express is about to pull into Skyhaven’s station.

What could he be dreaming about? You think to yourself and swallow the lump that formed in your throat.

“Caleb? Wake up for me, yeah?” You softly coo to him. “Come on, Colonel, come back to me.”

His purple eyes flutter open, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He stares at you and looks completely bewildered, widened eyes and flared nostrils. You retreat back into your seat, slowly letting go of his cheek and hand. Caleb brings you back into his embrace, though, and fully brings you onto his lap.

Your legs drape over his lap and they hang out into the train’s aisle. Caleb buries his face into your neck, his nose smushing into your supple skin. He slowly inhales. The familiar scent of your perfume fills his nose and his heartbeat comes to a slow before anything drastic happens, such as the chip taking away more of his memories.

“Caleb?” You whisper. All you can do is hold onto his arm that traps you against his chest, looking forward and through the window on the other side of the train.

Thankfully, you two sit towards the back of the train with other passengers clumping towards the front. A quick glance down the aisle shows you that the train has come to a full stop. Passengers stand and grab their belongings, flooding the aisle. You tap your fingers on Caleb’s arm, tilting your head to him.

“Don’t leave me…please…” he whimpers into your neck.

“Caleb, I…” you breathe out, his grip tightening on you. “I’m not going anywhere…but we do need to get off the train, okay? Let’s do that,” you watch as he pulls his face away from your neck. Your eyes meet.

His purple irises are strained, the white of his eye a soft pink color from irritation and glossy tears. You sigh and reach up, knowing that you’re just playing the part of a loving and comforting girlfriend right now so he can calm down.

He was probably dreaming of her anyways…

You don’t care about him and the way he feels. Your heart totally doesn’t ache and rip into itself while you peer into his grief-stricken gaze.

“Caleb,” you breathe his name out, bringing him out from his nightmare and back into reality. He looks around, sniffling, and you wipe away a tear that escapes from his eye. His gaze shoots to your hand, then back to your eyes, but you look away before your gazes can meet.

You push from his lap and stand in the aisle, stretching out your tight body, muscles relaxing. Caleb watches, wondering if your brief moment of affection was true to how you feel towards him or if you were filling in the role of his love so you can leave quicker.

“Come on,” you reach over him, grabbing your belongings, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”

“Home?” Caleb repeats the word. You nod and look down at him. You need to get him off the train, yes, but you also need to make for sure that he’s stable again. Something about this encounter leaves you feeling uneasy. You’re unsure of how to respond to his whimpers and cries, the way he held onto you like you are his lifeline in life.

“You’re okay, right?” Caleb grabs your waist, pulling you back to him. He goes to lift your hoodie, to inspect your body, but you shoo away his hands, taking a step back. “I need to keep you safe,” he mumbles under his breath.

“I’m safe, Caleb, but we need to get off the train—”

“What if they’re out there?”

“Who?” You ask.

Caleb shakes his head, avoiding your gaze now. He draws his hands back to his sides and stares at the seat in front of him.

You stand beside him. Confusion racks your body, his sudden protectiveness giving you some whiplash. You bite your lip and notice that the train is no empty. You tap him on the shoulder, getting his attention.

“Why don’t you take me home, Caleb? So you know that I’m safe.”

Your offer shocks you as much as it does him. You hold your hand out to him. His eyes remain on you, steady and unflinching. A chill runs down your spine. You begin to retract your hand, an embarrassed blush creeping up on your cheeks. Caleb stands and takes your hand before you can fully rescind the offer. He locks his fingers in with yours, looking down at you.

“Let’s go,” determination is prominent in his voice. Caleb, without wasting another precious second that you have graciously given him, steps in front of you, pulling you behind him. He guides you towards the exit of the train, helping you down the stairs.

The train station is unusually busy. Hoards of people pass by and bump into you. Caleb pulls you into his chest and glares at the rude people. He turns his attention to you and slips your purse form your grasp, placing the long strap over his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You nod and smile long enough for him to turn around, face dropping when his eyes leave your face. The Colonel moves to the area where the train drops off people’s luggage. His hand remains firm on yours, leaving you no way of escaping.

It was a stupid plan, really, you offering for him to take you home. You certainly didn’t want to go to his place and have him kidnap you or whatever but maybe, just maybe, he thinks that this is your way of letting him through the first layer of walls you’ve put up around your mind’s castle.

No, you think, he just got past the moat.

“I can grab it,” your side brushes against his but he pulls you back, shaking his head. With a rare public use of his Evol, your suitcase slips through the tower the workers have built and it glides across the floor, making its way towards you. You try to hide your face behind an ashamed hand, not particularly enjoying the annoyed looks and glares that people send your way.

It doesn’t matter, though. Once Caleb grabs hold of your suitcase’s handle, the two of you are already walking out the train station’s doors, stepping into the bright and sunny day.

When you first moved to Skyhaven, seeking refuge on the floating city to get as far away from Linkon as you possibly can, you were shocked by how bright the sun is. Obviously, the sun is bound to be brighter since you’re sitting high in the atmosphere, not having as many ozone layers to protect you as you would in Linkon. The blaring sun, matched with unpredictable weather, left you reeling from the constant changes. A jacket became a solid part of your wardrobe, anticipating quickly forming rain and thunder, but to also protect you from sunburns that the sun was sure to give you.

You look up at Caleb, eyes catching the sun through the strands of hair that fall onto his forehead. The sunlight is warm on your skin, the wind just chilly enough to justify your hoodie, and Caleb’s calloused hand keeps you walking at a brisk pace, your much shorter legs unable to keep up with him.

Skyhaven’s beauty shines today. You watch as high altitude birds take rest on planted trees and how the flowers and bushes sway with the crisp wind. Unconsciously, you found your hip attached to Caleb’s, your sides never leaving each other’s touch, walking along the pathways. The two pairs of feet move in sync with each other, acting as a complete unit.

“Are you okay?” Your question slips from your lips before you can stop it. You cringe and look away from Caleb’s sight.

The sidewalk is sparkling clean, Skyhaven’s reputation of cleanliness upholding itself. There aren’t even any cracks in the sidewalk like there are in Linkon. You avoid stepping directly on the lines of the concrete, playing a game with yourself.

The two of you walk by a park. You stare at the children who play on the swing set. Other children scream and chase each other around, dipping between the pillars of the playground. A little girl runs up the stairs and yells at the boy to help save her from the other boy.

The boy runs up the slide and jumps in front of the girl, warding off the bully. You sigh.

“What makes you think I’m not?” Caleb’s question permeates your ear from behind. You shrug in response. His thumb twiddles with yours but you don’t move, not giving into his game. “I’m fine. It was just a bad dream.”

“Ah,” you say with a nod, kicking away a loose rock back into the boundaries of the park, “a bad dream.”

Neither of you press into it any further. It’s an awkward topic of conversation and you remembered that you aren’t entitled to his feelings and train of thought just how he isn’t entitled to yours. A bitter truth, yes, but one you ultimately accept with open arms.

You wanted it this way. You wanted Caleb to feel the sting of rejection and to always be scrambling behind you, trying to keep up. But this feeling…it’s a dull ache that pulls at your heartstrings. You know that you’re supposed to be angry at him, to be mad, but you just can’t.

Caleb has gone through so much. He is a survivor whereas you’re still rotten from your less than ideal childhood. Maybe you’ve gone too harsh on him.

Should you let Caleb back into your life? Should you accept his friendship and see where it takes you?

Your apartment building comes into view. You sigh and pick up your pace, finally keeping up with his long strides. Your connected hands swing between your bodies. The apartment grows closer and closer. Caleb can’t help but feel sorrowful since his time with you is coming to a slow end.

His grip on your hand tightens, allowing you to take the lead now. Caleb watches the back of your head, loving the way your hair bounces with every step you take, watching as the oversized hoodie slips to the side, exposing a small sliver of your shoulder.

He’s going to miss this small moment of domesticity with you. He’s going to dream about how you let him hold your hand, how he was the one who got to carry all of your belongings, that he is the one who pushes your suitcase for you. Nobody else. It’s a small victory to him.

Let me in, Caleb thinks to himself, I promise to never hurt you. Let me protect you.

You walk inside the building with Caleb following behind. The elevator ride is quiet. The only sound comes from there quiet dings of the passing floors. Your suitcase separates your bodies, acting as a barrier, his hand resting on top of yours on the handle of the suitcase. Caleb’s eyes never leave the side of your face.

Somehow, his gaze makes you feel so small yet so seen. His attention is warm, but is it a warmth that you even want?

Your conflicted feelings towards him leave your head feeling so much more dizzy than your hangover did.

His gaze dips below your eyes, moving towards your lips. A faint frown is on your lips, one that he knows would taste bittersweet if he were to close the distance and kiss you. A kiss that would leave him hungry with the hopes that you’ll be hungry for him as well.

Caleb digs his heels into the ground as you tug him down the apartment hallway. The sunlight graces the floor, illuminating the hallway with the bright afternoon light. The man pulls against your touch but you pull back, dragging him down the hallway, towards your sanctuary where you can fully be yourself with no prying eyes watching.

Once the two of you are at the door, you drop his hand and open it to him. He sighs and hesitantly places your purse into your palm, watching as you fish out your set of keys.

He should have stolen them last night when you were unconscious in bed. He should have seized the opportunity to make a spare set just in case you need someone to come save you. Just a spare key that only he has. A key that grants him access to your safe place. Caleb is patient, though, and is more than willing to wait however long it is until you learn to trust him.

“Thanks for walking me,” your voice brings Caleb out of his thoughts. He turns to you and smiles, his nod mechanical. You don’t notice, though, and slip your suitcase inside. “I hope you’re able to sleep well, Caleb.”

“Me?” He points to himself. “Why wouldn’t I sleep well?”

“You were holding on tight to me and wouldn’t let go. I think you bruised my hip,” you admit with a breathy chuckle.

“Did I?” Caleb drops down to his knees. Without notice, he pushes up your hoodie, calloused fingertips scraping against your smooth skin. Your eyes shoot open, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach, heart pounding. You tap his shoulder, watching as he examines the fresh, small bruises that are the size of his fingertips. The bruises are a dark plum color and, strangely enough, they compliment the color of the hickeys he gave you on your neck. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, it’s…it’s okay, really,” you grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him back up. He looks down at you with sorrowful eyes. You sigh and rest your hand on his chest. “Don’t stress over it. It’s okay.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose.

Why would he do that to you? How could he have allowed himself to do that?

“Go home, Caleb,” your eyes float to his, “go home and get some rest for me, okay?”

“Anything for you,” Caleb slowly nods, absorbing your command into his mind. “Will I…see you tomorrow? At work?”

A small smile creeps onto your lips. You look at him and bite your bottom lip, the man having to fight his inner demons not to reach out and release your lip from your teeth, to not replace it with his own.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you nod and let go of his chest, the Colonel suddenly feeling so cold without your touch, and you disappear inside your apartment, locking the door behind you.

The next day could not come fast enough for Caleb.

Unable to obey your command and sleep, the Colonel stayed up through the night, watching as rainclouds pass by his large apartment windows. No lights are on, just the light from the outside world casting elongated shadows across his dark floors. The rain made quiet ‘pitter patter’ sounds against the reinforced glass, leaving him feeling soothed yet uneasy.

His dream lurked in the darkness of his mind, unable to give him a moment of peace. In the distance, he can still hear your faint screams and cries, begging for him to come save you. Yet he was unable to do a thing, completely worthless under Ever and the professor’s control. Your eyes pleaded at him to step up, to do something, anything!

But what could Caleb possibly do? He’s just as helpless as you are. No…he should be ablate break free from the metal cuffs that keep him chained in place. He should have used his Evol to crush the professor and his minions. He should have swept you off of that damn lab table and place you in the security of his arms, stealing you away so the world can’t hurt you.

How could he sleep? How could Caleb even dare to go back into his nightmares, rendering him helpless in your desperate plight for freedom. He knows it isn’t real, that it is a reality that he never wishes to see come into fruition.

His phone vibrates on the table beside his bed. Caleb grabs it and stares at the message on the screen, a small smile forming on his face. He sees your name and face lined up next to his on the digital document. He turns his phone off and settles into bed. The man places his hands behind his head and stares out at the dark rainclouds.

The Farspace Fleet had been invited to a week long meeting in another country, one that’s about seven hours away and is held in a new place every year, for a peace summit. Colonel Caleb, one of the Fleet’s newer and most impressive officers, managed to secure an invite alongside a few other higher ranking officers, such as Majors and lower ranking Generals.

The downside of the summit? The country hosting it spoke a completely different language.

The upside of the summit? Caleb gets to request you as his personal translator, keeping you at his side throughout the week. This way, he’ll know for sure that you are safe and nowhere near Ever’s clutches.

He wonders if you knew of the assignment yet. He also can’t help but wonder if you rejected the offer, passing it off to someone else. Fuck, he hoped you didn’t.

After all, you did promise to see him at work. If you were to decline, you would break that promise you made to him. Caleb will have to punish you for it if you broke it.

Spending a week with you at his side sounds like paradise. Besides, he isn’t the one people are bound to flock to. They’ll pay more attention to the generals who show up and not him. His lower rank will give you two enough cover to run out and do your own things, leaving the peace summit behind.

Caleb will use this time alone to truly learn everything there is to know about you. You haven’t seen each other in years, after all, so this serves a great time for you to tell him about your favorite colors and foods, which genre of movie you adore, which position you prefer to be fucked in, and if you have somehow accumulated any more allergies since your childhood.

Your cooperation is integral for his plan. All you need to do is say yes, to give in to his lead, and play the role of loyal translator while he picks your brain apart in-between meetings. Maybe you’ll give him a second chance at a shared dinner. He knows of a fantastic restaurant in the other country. It’s even located in the hotel you’ll be staying at. How convenient!

Caleb showed up early the next morning.

His Colonel uniform is neatly pressed, not a wrinkle insight, his hat perfectly straight on his head, tie secured around his neck. He glances down at the medals and golden ropes on his uniform. They mean nothing to him. He does not really hold militaristic accolades in as high of a regard as he does with your validation.

Maybe if it were you handing out the medals and awards, Caleb would learn to give a damn about rank in his life.

The Colonel occupies a small portion of the space next to one of the few smaller aircrafts that will transport the Fleet members to the neighboring country. His dark aviators remain on his face, shielding him from the bright morning light, coffee cup in his hand. He has one for you tucked behind him on the steps of a ladder on the side of a fighter jet.

Fleet members show up one by one, passing off their bags to low ranking employees, who load them into compartments inside the aircrafts. His purple eyes remain steady on the crowd, people keeping a cautious distance from him.

He spots your neat head of hair, watching as you and another girl talk with one another, suitcases rolling along the long and marked tarmac. Caleb grabs your cup of coffee, slowly making his way where the luggage drop off is. Soldiers and ground control people stop to salute to him as they pass, scurrying away to complete their jobs. Even other translators, some of whom he rejected in favor of you, nod their heads at him.

You don’t, though. You stare at him with your hands on your hips, a slight scowl on your face. You narrow your eyes at him, watching as he closes the gap between you two. Electricity surges throughout your body as he grows near, holding out the coffee cup to you. You stare at it, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to say no to coffee,” Caleb quips, his voice cheery and teasing while his face remains emotionless. It sends chills down your spine how easy it is for him to feign indifference or to fake being happy.

“What strings did you pull to get me selected for this?” Your question is direct, straight to the point. Caleb chuckles and takes another step towards you. He’s less than an arm’s length away. His purple eyes look over the metal rims of his sunglasses, coffee now being placed in your hand. “What did you do to it?”

“I ordered it just how you like it. Then I put it in my car as I drove here. After that, I set it on the ladder of a fighter jet,” Caleb’s play by play makes you roll your eyes. You stare down at the lid and grumble under your breath. You force yourself to take a sip, the sweet nectar of the caffeine gods hitting your tongue.

Oh yeah. You needed that.

“Don’t think that this makes us friends,” you point at him, sharpening your gaze. Caleb rolls his eyes and leans down.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you’re playing hard to get with me right now, pretty bird,” Caleb smirks, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. You shiver and push him away from you, rolling your eyes.

“What makes you think we’re at the friendship level, Caleb?” your question is bold. He likes that about you.

“I know how you taste, pretty bird,” Caleb’s eyes darken for a split second. Chills run down your spine, the memory of his face buried between your thighs reigniting the warmth between your legs. “I know how you sound…how one flick of movement earns me the most sultry sounding gasp—”

“Okay! Point made! You win, Colonel!” You interrupt him, covering his mouth. He chuckles against the palm of your hand, peeling it off of his skin.

“So we’re friends?” Caleb inquires, taking your hand in his. He too can be bold. He glances to the side. Nobody watches them; they are all too engrossed in their own conversations to notice the Colonel flirting with his assigned translator.

“Friends…” you gulp, watching as he laces his fingers into yours, “I think I prefer the term ‘acquaintance’.”

Caleb yanks you into his chest. You gasp, the coffee sloshing around in the cup, as he looks down at you with a devilish smirk on his face. You lean backwards, making him pull onto you with more force.

“Acquaintances…fine. But you and I both know that we’re not going to be…acquaintances for long,” Caleb helps you regain your balance before releasing your hand.

Your eyes remain glues to him. Caleb turns away from you, the smirk falling from his face as he walks away, approaching other high ranking offers with a handshake. You scoff.

How can he be so shameless and effortless with his advances? And god dammit, it’s working on you.

You push your hair behind your ears, turning away in shame. You find your way to the other translators, slipping into their circle to hide from Caleb’s prying gaze. You can feel it on you even though his attention is elsewhere. His demeanor has dominated you. He has made himself at home in your mind, rendering you useless whenever you try to think of any other man.

It all leads back to him.

“Translators! Eyes here!” A voice beckons from behind. You turn to face a Captain, his uniform pristine and sharp just like his facial features. His eyes are a deep blue color and his hair is a golden blonde. He’s…so handsome. His voice is soothing and comforting. All of the other translators, who all happen to be female, swoon over the Captain’s appearance. You, on the other hand, remain steady in your stance, unable to swoon for his good looks.

Your eyes flicker to Caleb, who watches you from the corner of your eye. You tilt your head in his direction, pretending to stretch out your body to catch a glimpse of him. He wears an amused smile on his face, his eyes shielded behind sunglasses. He nods his head to the empty spot beside him.

It’s a silent command. One that you know all too well. His intentions, whatever they may be, are of impure, rooted in his own carnal desire. You shudder and turn away, goosebumps forming across your skin. You bite the inside of your cheek and watch as the Captain instructs the translators and you on your job.

“You are not negotiators. You are not on vacation. We are here for work, okay? Act like it. You all should know who you have been assigned to and know what languages will be required of you. You are the best of the best, so prove it. You will be flying with your assigned officer so you can get to know them and figure out a translating system that works best for them. Sound good? Great. Good luck.”

The Captain turns on his heel and leaves out vicinity on the tarmac. You can feel Caleb’s eyes burn into the back of your head. While all of the other women leave to go greet their officers, you stay where you are, watching as the Captain disappears inside the building.

“Was I picked at random? Or did you pull some strings to get me?” You ask, watching as Caleb’s shadow looms beside yours on the tarmac.

His chuckle sends chills down your spine, the man taking his place right behind you. His uniform grazes against your back. You freeze. His gloved hand rests on your shoulder, slipping towards your neck. Caleb removes your hair from your shoulder exposed light hickeys he placed on your skin not even two nights ago.

“I requested you but it turns out that you are quite popular among the other officers,” Caleb leans in, whispering into your ear. He smirks at you, watching your legs squeeze together, your face stoic. “Do you know how many favors I owe people now? You’re going to have to make it up to me, pretty bird.”

You turn on your heel and look up at Caleb. He wears a smug smirk on his face and you know damn well that he’s toying with you. How cruel of him. You suppose, though, that two can play this game.

Aircraft engines roar from the distance. From over Caleb’s shoulder, you watch as officers, soldiers, and translators pile into the air crafts, the last one remaining empty as a few stragglers wait for you and Caleb to hop on board.

Your eyes flicker to him, gaze as sharp as a razor blade. You close the distance and put a sweet smile on your face, just as your boss instructed you do so when you first arrived to the base, and rest your hand on his chest.

Frankly, there’s nothing wrong about his uniform. It’s perfect with no mistakes or stray pieces of lint that breaks the solid black color of the material. His pins and medals are lined in perfect sync and his golden tassels hang at the perfect distance. Your hand snakes down his chest, passing his stomach as your finger hooks into his belt loop.

Caleb looks down at your touch, goosebumps forming across his body as his boxers begin to tighten. He looks at you, eyes poking over the edge of his sunglasses, watching as your smile turns into a smirk. You drag a single finger lower, teasing him with such ease and grace that he initially thinks that you genuinely want him. Before he can say anything, you slap his crotch and push around him, heading in the direction of the aircraft.

“Come on, Colonel, our plane’s waiting,” you call from over your shoulder.

Caleb’s eyes land on you, the man cursing under his breath. He washes you with wide eyes. He tries to pretend that your touch didn’t effect him so much. He’s about to chase after you, to get some kind of revenge, when he catches your gaze.

The world turns to slow motion. Caleb watches as you pick up the pace to his aircraft. The smile on your face is devious yet contains an equal amount of playfulness. Your hair catches in the wind, sweeping over your shoulder, and there is some pep to your step.

To Caleb, you’re in the baby blue dress from his dream. You’re calling out to him to show you around the DAA base, the bouquet of flowers you got for him in your arms. You wave your hand at him, beckoning to follow, and he does like the lovesick puppy he is.

[chimielie]

“You have crazy eyes,” Oikawa says offhandedly, setting a glass down and leaning hard on a wooden table, long legs crossing over each other elegantly.

“I do not,” Iwaizumi retorts. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Mhm,” Oikawa pushes his head into the other man’s line of vision, dodging as Iwaizumi unfolds his arms to make an attempt at pushing him away, his gaze locked on the other side of the deck all the while. “Nothing’s happening, that’s why the vein in your forehead is about to pop. You’d think he’d notice the big dumb guy staring at him this whole time.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” says Iwaizumi, casually posing his arm to rest on the table, open palm up.

“Maybe he has noticed and he’s just ignoring it?” Oikawa squints, dropping his (prescription, but don’t you dare tell anyone) sunglasses down his nose for dramatic effect. “A braver man than me, then.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Iwaizumi says, but his fingers twitch, not quite a fist and not far from being one. His eyes are an olive orchard burning. As Oikawa said: crazy.

You are: oblivious, blithe, gorgeous. The tops of your shoulders are sun-warmed and you’re swirling a glass of red in your hand, the contented lilt of your smile familiar to him after many nights watching your favorite wine stain your lips. He sees you sway a little, your eyes popping wide as you realize all too quickly that you might be a little further past tipsy then you’d thought, and the bastard you’re talking to puts his hands on you. One on your shoulder, one on your waist to steady you.

Hajime’s always had a penchant for parkour when he’s drunk, and you and he have been taking sips of each other for days now. He slams a palm down on the hard wood, momentarily airborne as he jumps over the table and cuts through the other people standing around to get to you.

“Hey,” he says, grin looking a little feral as he watches the hands on your waist come off. The guy’s movements are jerky, looking at him like what the hell, man? Iwaizumi has no idea why.

“Hi, Haji,” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. “This is Naoto. He’s from the same place I am, actually.”

“Cool,” Hajime says, extending a hand to shake like he learned at networking mixers at UCI. Naoto stares at him for a second and then takes it cautiously, wincing as Hajime crushes his fingers in his best arm-wrestling champ grip. “Good to meet you.”

Naoto clearly does not think it is good to meet him. He steps back upon release and makes a rushed goodbye to you, citing a group of friends he suddenly needs to find urgently. You smile and wiggle your fingers at him vaguely, already far more focused on the sun setting over the waves past the terrace than you are on whatever is happening between the two of them. Hajime steps up behind you, sliding a hand over your waist, his palm covering the surface area touched by Naoto. You put a soft hand over his, stroking slowly over his calloused knuckles, and hook your other arm back to tug him forward so he’s pressed against your back, bending so he’s cheek-to-cheek with you, watching the water undulate.

“You havin’ a good time?” His voice is a little rough from the clear liquor he and Oikawa were drinking paired with the effort of keeping his voice quiet, his concern just for you.

“Yes, sir,” you say, taking another sip from your glass. You hold it across your chest and he wraps his fingers around the delicate stem, putting his mouth right over the print yours left. “You?”

“Of course,” he says. “It’s beautiful out here. I think Shittykawa got sunburnt on the beach, though.”

“His fault for being pale,” you wave your left hand dismissively. He wants to pin you like a butterfly, your wrist arched gracefully against the darkening sky. “He has all those fancy skin creams to stop it from flaking, too.”

He feels a little bad for abandoning his best friend, but when he turns his head to check on him, the other man has reunited with Makki and Mattsun, who are all clustered together while taking photos of the two of you. Oikawa’s features specifically are spelling out something very smug and that will be very annoying for Hajime later. Iwaizumi concludes that he will probably survive thirty seconds without direct entertainment from him.

“He gets bad flush, too,” he thinks aloud. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

“See?” He hums and rubs his thumb over your top where he’s holding you with the right hand, soothing circular patterns. He can almost feel you purring. “I can always tell when you’ve started drinking for the night because Kawa gets red and you start running around and climbing things.”

“I don’t,” he protests, but it dies in his throat. You shake in his arms as you laugh.

“You always do. You tried to climb up my balcony once, remember? You said you could beat the elevator up.”

“I would’ve done it if security hadn’t come out,” he grumbles. You take your glass back and put it on the railing. It’s perilous, but Hajime doesn’t say anything. If it spills over your outfit, he’ll follow you back to the room and help you change.

“When I met you, I didn’t expect you to be the crazy type,” you say, turning so your lips brush his skin as you speak. “You seemed so steady compared to Kawa.”

“Only crazy about you,” he says. You sigh happily and melt back into him. He exhales slowly, a controlled breath, and wonders how a bastard like him got so lucky.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter VI

"maybe a place where light and darkness meet, the choice between truth and lies is mine."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, illegal businesses, mentions of violence, war/military and weapons, mention of drug(s), mc is confused as fawk but is vibing with whatever is going on, we finally meet the asshole father, hongjoong shows that he can be an asshole too, cue tears, seonghwa takes that chance to up his game (look idk how else to do warnings) (i may have missed sth)

chapter wc: 13.8k

chapter synopsis: the crescents share updates, deciding to dig deeper into the unknown identity of the anonymous funder. yeosang reveals that the rv spies are protecting you from a threat that is not secretary park and the anxiety of that unknown threat weighs on you heavily. yunho hints at the nature of the crescents’ relationship and you decide to take some time to think about it. The bosses finally tell you about their drug project and hongjoong asks you to accompany them to edenary as their partner, where they will be making a new deal. you confront secretary park there, but the night ends in tears, especially when you conflict with the boss. the underboss is there to make you feel better.

prev chapter recap: you are supposed to meet assemblyman wi with hongjoong. seonghwa tries his best to calm you while hongjoong gifts you an infinity clasp bracelet which only confuses you further. when you meet the assemblyman, hongjoong admits that he’s trying to make you ‘a leader’. you successfully make assemblyman wi agree to investigate secretary park with the keyword of ‘strictland’. while you relax with san, yeosang has a meeting with wendy and learns that the rv spies are protecting you from threats that they refuse to reveal– the real threat is not secretary park. worried, yeosang decides to call a meeting with the boys without your knowledge. you practise shooting with the warehouse boys and you learn that yunho has actually placed bets on how you won’t be able to shoot a single target. agitated, you cheat a little and have the warehouse boys win the bet. you also ask them to look into their anonymous funders as you learn more about the weapons project. finally, you confront yunho who teases you to no end but takes you to a place from his childhood to show you how he learned to aim. the night takes an unexpected, intimate turn.

You once heard about the butterfly effect. It was fascinating to hear how the most infinitesimal flutter of their wings could end up creating a ripple of change through time itself– unimaginable and irreversible change. 

Sometimes, you would trace back the events of your life to understand which flutter of a pair of wings, or which pebble thrown in the lake led you to where you were today, at Room no. 1 at the Crescent Bar with all of the boys around you– probably a consequence of a series of small and insignificant decisions coupled with some big decisions. 

It was surreal how you went from an observer of the Crescents to being a part of the Crescents yourself.You never thought their little actions would make your heart move so much and never did you imagine that they would create their space in your heart in such a short period of time. Instead of sneaking peeks from the office window, you sat among them and noticed that your presence didn’t change anything. 

Your presence didn’t make them wary and you found the nature of their conversations remained the  same as without you. They were including you in their discussion and making you feel comfortable with the little things- asking for your opinion as if it mattered (yes, they insisted it did but it was still hard to believe so), pouring wine for you, putting food in your plate, and even–

Even paying attention to the little details– the slight raise of your brow whenever you didn’t fully agree with something, the curling of your fingers as you picked on your skin when all eyes were trained on you, the exchange of glances with San when you both found something funny, the pointed look towards Yeosang when Hongjoong would play boss with you, the pointed look in Hongjoong’s direction when he would point out a discrepancy in your argument. 

The way your eyes naturally fixed on Seonghwa whenever you needed assurance, which was kind of funny because this man was mainly the reason you were here right now. The way you would avoid Yunho’s eyes when his fingers would intertwine with yours with a promising squeeze in hopes of providing some sort of comfort or agreement. The masking of your laughter when Jongho shared a cheesy joke and the partnering with Wooyoung whenever you had something funny to add to the argument since your sense of humour matched with his the most. And finally, the way you would look towards Mingi for help whenever you felt like you were being driven into a corner by any one of them.

You were the most relieved to realise that your presence didn’t change their dynamics, yet, there was an inevitable change in their interactions so they could be attentive towards you, and you to them. You fitted right in. It was not a missing piece of the puzzle, rather, the puzzle itself changed to accommodate you. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Luna? Are you alright?”

It was both Yunho’s voice and his comforting squeeze of hand that brought you out of a trance and you blinked,  appreciating the call.

“Oh, I’m perfectly alright. Just zoned out for a moment.”

You were alright. Your heart felt full at the sight of the boys chatting and eating, Seonghwa scooping some more rice for you and nudging you with his hand on your shoulder, pointing at the food. “I make sure everyone eats.”

“I finished two bowls, Sir.”

“Well, this one is still full,” he said. “Eat.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mocked, downing a drink, not oblivious to the snickers from the boys who overheard this little interaction. You sent a glare in their direction before giving in and begrudgingly taking a bite. You couldn’t disobey the underboss and expect to get away with it. 

“Alright, if we’re all done eating and fooling around,” Hongjoong called after a few moments, grabbing everyone’s attention. “General Wi called to let me know that he thinks we’re right to suspect Secretary Park. He sent his men to tail Park Sunghoon and they got ambushed and barely made it out alive.”

Jongho grunted at the news, brows scrunching in thought. “Could Sunghoon be acting on his own, though?”

Hongjoong looked towards you for an answer and you shook your head. “I’m not sure if anything has changed in the past couple of years, but our father never allowed him to stray too far. He’s always had him on a leash, you could say. Might be part of the reason why Sunghoon rebels so much.”

“Right,” Hongjoong nodded. “General Wi did find something odd. He used his connections to find out if Secretary Park has been out of the country recently, and discovered that he’s been frequenting Halaland for a considerable amount of time now.”

“He could have some other dealing going on in Halaland?” San wondered, always giving anyone the benefit of doubt. “We should look into that.”

“Or if he’s visiting Strictland,” Mingi began. “He can’t simply go to Strictland from Eden. That would be too obvious. You need a permit to visit Strictland from Eden but if I’m recalling correctly, you can visit Strictland without a permit if you’re a Hala local. He could have easily tagged with some locals then.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t simply go to Strictland from here if he was involved in something illegal,” you agreed with Mingi. “He can go to extreme lengths to hide something he doesn’t want the world to know about.”

The boys had a feeling that you were referring to yourself too and they exchanged glances. Yeosang was the first to speak. “We can check if he’s had any reason to go to Halaland first before we assume that he’s up to something in Strictland. Are we still in contact with Suho’s gang?”

“It’s been radio silence for a while but I’ll make a call or send a message– I can’t promise a positive response,” Jongho said and you wondered if being half-Hala ever earned him some benefits. Was he really friendly with the gang based in Halaland? “We didn’t really end things on a good note.”

“It’s fine, we can look for some other means too,” Seonghwa suggested. “Maybe the RV spies.”

“The RV spies?” You repeated, the name foreign on your lips. “Who are they?”

“A spy network of women,” Seonghwa was smiling and you thought there was a secret concealed within his words. “You remember Winter? She’s one of them. They’re really good at disguise and have dirt on literally every person in Eden– even the common man.”

You let that sink in. Seonghwa had a meeting with Winter the other day and the sight of her rocked a familiar yet distant memory in your head. You were positive you had come across her in Edenary. So she was a spy? 

“If they’re that extensive and meticulous, they would know a lot about me, right? Maybe things that even I don’t know about.”

“Yeah, we considered contacting them when we were looking into your background,” Yunho admitted and you made a face, making him laugh a bit. “We never got to that, though. We had other sources.”

“Kihyun?” You asked and he nodded in confirmation. 

“And Hongjoong was quick enough to figure it out himself,” Seonghwa added, amused as he recalled that night.

“Yeah, well, it was very obvious. Your father may have done a good job hiding you but you didn’t really do a good job hiding yourself,” he commented.

“Well, I wasn’t really hiding myself,” you lied and he caught that, raising a brow in challenge. “More like… delaying the inevitable.”

The boys laughed at that, Jongho filling everyone’s glasses again and you all cheered before drinking. 

“Oh, one last thing,” Mingi began, having just recalled his recent findings. “We officially know the identity of all of our anonymous funders save for one.”

“And you’ve tried everything?” Hongjoong asked and when Mingi nodded, he settled back in thought. 

“How old is the source?”

“September 1966,” Mingi said and the room fell silent as everyone tried to recall the events from four years ago.

You remembered that time well. “I came back to Eden from Wonderland on 14th August, 1966.”

“And President Han Hyojoo was assassinated on 17th August,” Wooyoung scratched his chin. “There were a lot of protests and things were bad for a while– even in September. Right?”

“Yes,” Yunho took a deep breath. “I think it was in September when the Siren Rebel Party laid its foundations. They feared martial law would be imposed on Eden, but President Lee won the elections– he was a favourite at that time.”

“Pity votes,” Wooyoung huffed, folding his arms. “I never liked that man. His smile scares me.”

While some of them burst into laughter, teasing Wooyoung’s unwarranted dislike for the President of Eden, Seonghwa noticed how you fell silent. “What are you thinking?”

“Why was President Han assassinated?” You wondered. “I mean, yeah, she obviously had enemies, but wasn’t she from a long line of politicians? She wasn’t the first female president either. Didn’t she contribute a lot to rebuild Eden?”

“She did,” Hongjoong said, “alongside President Son until his term was over, and then she won the elections yet kept a strong partnership with President Son. They were quite a pair.”

“And Lee Jinwook was basically a nobody even while he was a politician until his wife got killed,” Wooyoung said. “Then he started collecting pity votes.”

“I think Wooyoung has got some personal beef with President Lee,” Jongho laughed. “He’s always after him.”

“You would be too if you look closely,” Wooyoung wasn’t having any of it. “We all know that he only won because of his late wife, and now he thinks he’s something.”

“Well, Eden has been stable in his administration so far, and we’re almost nearing the end of his term,” Yeosang tried. “He doesn’t really have enemies.”

“Isn’t that odd?” You narrowed your eyes. “If President Lee claims to be continuing his wife’s legacy, and his wife got killed because someone had a problem with how things ran, wouldn’t they get rid of him too?”

“That… is a good point,” San shifted uncomfortably. 

“What is the difference between President Lee’s administration and President Han’s?” You asked, looking around. “He can’t be running things exactly the same way, right?”

“It’s mostly the same, with a few changes,” Seonghwa said. “Attempts to try to improve the relation with Halaland, which shouldn’t be odd because we can’t be at the risk of war all the time. More contributions to the healthcare system and that we can owe that to Secretary Park, and then… a few personnel and administration changes. President Son retired from politics altogether– there was some tension between them.”

You bit your lips in thought. You really needed to refresh your history because something was gnawing at your mind; a connection that was present and felt an arm’s reach away but you couldn’t grab it. 

“Do you think it’s got anything to do with our anonymous source?” Hongjoong asked. “I don’t want you wasting time on what-ifs. If you’re sure there’s a connection, then we can investigate.”

You nodded, making a mental note to talk to Seonghwa about this later. You might be shooting an arrow in the dark but you could never be too sure. “I just think the timing is odd. President Lee wouldn’t need to make sure there are enough weapons in Eden illegally. So it’s got to be someone who was sure President Lee would not be doing enough for Eden’s defence.”

Mingi agreed, “They think the President is still not doing enough considering how we receive our paychecks regularly.”

“Alright, let’s assume there is a connection but don’t let it narrow the focus of your investigation,” Hongjoong concluded and he started giving instructions around the table. The meeting was over and you would all be separating ways now. 

“Do you have a moment before you leave?” Yeosang asked when you were picking up your belongings, the warehouse boys just having shared farewell hugs with you. There was still a smile on your face from when Wooyoung kissed your cheek and looked pointedly at Yunho– you weren’t sure if Wooyoung was aware that you and Yunho had crossed some boundaries, but it was still amusing to watch Yunho roll his eyes and scoff before leaving. Wooyoung said they would be having dinner at BB Trippin soon and you were also invited.

“Sure. I was only going to go home,” you said and followed him to his office. You dumped your things on his desk as if you still belonged there– perhaps, you did. The office looked more unorganised than usual with empty glasses lining the table, a few bottles in the corner and documents strewn everywhere. 

“Have you been drinking?” You asked. Yeosang was a drinker, but he was never untidy.

“Ah, yes,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I can explain the mess– I was looking into a few things recently and uh…”

“And Luna is not here anymore to clean up after you?” You finished for him. “No new bookkeeper?”

“I’m the bookkeeper now,” he said in all seriousness and you passed him a warning look. “Alright, I’m considering Jeonghan for the post.”

“Jeonghan would make you do all the work while he naps or fools around,” you pointed out but you both knew you were joking– he was really clever and you were considering suggesting him to Yeosang anyway. “So, what’s this about?”

Yeosang waited until you settled down and then he took a seat in front of you across the desk. He was watching you in thought and you let him have a moment to sort his thoughts out.

“I worry about your safety, Luna,” he started. “And it’s why I want you to be honest during our conversation. I know you have your own secrets but I really need to confirm a few things so we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Okay,” you nodded, narrowing your eyes in suspicion and confusion. 

“The boys do not know that I’m having this conversation with you because we agreed not to tell you, for now,” he told you and you blinked in surprise. They told each other everything. “But after this meeting, I think we should talk. And if you wish so, our conversation can remain between us unless we feel that we should let them know for safety reasons.”

“Alright,” you shifted uncomfortably. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Are you sure your father is the only one who means to harm you?”

Oh. 

“I mean… Sunghoon might?” you suggested. “He’s always been after me for different reasons. Sibling rivalry, if you can call it that.”

“Yeah, but if Secretary Park is after you and Sunghoon is aware of it, then he wouldn’t need to interfere, right?” Yeosang said and you shrugged in agreement. “Can you think of any other person who might be after you? Anyone who might have a grudge against you? Anyone from Eden or Wonderland?”

“Did something happen?” You asked again, your voice laced with worry.

“Nothing, but we got a tip recently. The RV spies didn’t reveal who they meant, but they were sure that Secretary Park is not the real threat that you should be worrying about.”

Cold washed over you as his words registered, a montage of your life flashing through your eyes in an attempt to recall any falling out you’ve had with someone who was not your family, or any time you might have intentionally or unintentionally caused harm to someone or said something unkind.

“I… can’t think of anything, Yeosang,” you looked at him and he immediately moved to hold your hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly to ease the despair in your voice. “Why would someone be after me? My father has a reason, even though it’s not justifiable, but why would someone else be?”

He only shrugged in response. He had no answer either and from what he knew, you had lived a pretty secluded life.

“Could it be Assemblyman General Wi? I might have rubbed off on him the wrong way–”

“I don’t think they meant him. They didn’t say anything explicitly but… you must understand that RV spies are assassins. Usually, they are employed to get rid of a person or an organisation. But for the first time, I’m hearing that they’re protecting someone.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” He cocked his head and you exhaled in disbelief. “They think whatever information you have is valuable enough that they have to make sure that it’s not in the wrong hands. I think if they haven’t killed you yet, that means they’re okay with you sharing that information with us.”

“Very helpful, Yeosang,” you muttered and he stifled a smile.

“They’re protecting you,” he chastised, squeezing your hands softly for good measure. “Whoever you are or whatever you’ve heard while you were in Edenary is worth enough that the most notorious spies and assassins are trying to protect you. And they think they’ll be doomed if you get hurt.”

“That can’t be true,” you wrenched your hands away from Yeosang, shaking your head furiously. “I’ve told you everything that I’ve heard.”

“And I believe you,” Yeosang responded cautiously. “I just want you to think again, yeah? You don’t have to worry– you’re safe. You can take your time and think if there was something that was odd and didn’t make sense back then. It might make sense now. Your time in Edenary, in Wonderland and when you came back… I know it’s overwhelming but can you do that for me?”

You nodded absently, getting up and clutching your bag in one hand, about to leave when Yeosang stepped in front of you and gave you a disapproving look.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Luna,” he placed his hands on the dip of your shoulders, locking eyes with you. “You’ll be okay.”

“Why do the rest don’t know about this meeting, Yeosang?” You asked, unable to keep the scepticism from your tone. “Do they still not trust me after all I’ve done for them? After all I’ve given them?”

Yeosang shook his head. “They trust you, and we all mutually agreed to try to get the RV spies to talk or look into it ourselves, because we didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he admitted. “We knew you’d take it to heart. They don’t like to see you anxious.”

“What do they care if I’m anxious or not?” 

“I thought you knew by now, Luna, that we care. All of us do.”

“Then why did you tell me now?” You asked, barely a whisper.

“Because I’ve known you longer than they have,” he smiled. “And I know that if you’re aware of this, you might be less cross with us than if you find out later. I owe you one, remember?”

He was making up to you for getting you involved with them– for assigning you bookkeeping without telling you the consequences of that job. You avoided his gaze as you smiled but you felt guilty for snapping at him. 

The boys really just wanted to make sure that you were at peace. They would rather inconvenience themselves to find out the answers than have you restless.

Yeosang hooked his finger under your chin, making you look at him and you both dissolved into chuckles as you tried to pull away from him. You quickly gave up and let him bring you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you securely and his steady voice assuring you that you would be okay, that you had nothing to worry about. That they would keep you safe. You buried your nose in the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths and he kissed the top of your head. 

When you drew away, his hands slid down your arms to hold your hands and he noticed the cuff bracelet on your wrist, lips curling into a smile as he recognised it.

“Do you always wear it?”

“Yeah,” you raised your arm to look at the silver bracelet. It looked like he was aware that Hongjoong had given it to you, and now that you knew that Yeosang had feelings for you that were not entirely platonic, it was strange to see not a hint of jealousy or envy on his face. Instead, his eyes gleamed and you poked his chest.

“You’re weird, Yeosang.”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he scoffed, watching the bracelet on your wrist for just a moment longer before he looked at you. “Let me know if you feel like it’s too much, okay?”

“Which part?”

Yeosang had a faint smile on his lips as he tucked your hair back and caressed your cheeks in the process. “Whichever part feels too much?”

“I don’t understand when you all are going to stop trying to talk to me in circles and say something,” you almost cried out. “That part is too much.”

“Is there something you’ve been wanting to hear?” Yeosang cocked his head, amused. “Or… did something happen? Something you’d like to tell me about?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is there something you’d like me to tell you?”

“Hmm… let’s see,” he trailed his finger down your temple, his thumb subtly swiping at your bottom lip, perhaps an indication that he did know. “I’m just wondering if you found the answer to the question you asked me last time.”

“What question?” You asked softly, feigning innocence as you curled your fingers around his hand that rested on your cheek. “Why don’t you remind me again?”

Yeosang only chuckled, knowing very well that perhaps, you were done playing games with them– or at least him. He drew back, raising his hands in defeat.

“Maybe when you’re ready to answer it.”

“Yeosang,” you warned. “You’re all in this together, aren’t you? At least some of you.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He raised a brow in challenge, opening the door for you. “Have a good evening, Luna.”

The rain continued to pour without a break for the remainder of the week and more. The sun would rarely come out but when it did, it would be heavily concealed by clouds and just offer a sheen of glimmer on the wet pavements and roads of Sector 1. The days remained bleak, a reflection or perhaps a fuel for your gloominess. 

Although nothing significant happened after your conversation with Yeosang a few days ago, it still weighed heavily upon your heart. The shift in your mood didn’t go unnoticed by your colleagues Eunha and Jihoon, though they didn’t comment on your lack of contribution to conversations and how your smile didn’t meet your eyes anymore. They had a feeling that if they probed, you wouldn’t offer anything in return. 

They didn’t need to either, for there were plenty of people worrying about you. Yunho, for instance, who was quick to realise something was up and confronted you the other night when you were in his office finishing up a report.

You tried to avoid the question by dismissing the change in your energy as exhaustion but he wasn’t having any of it. You figured you were obvious, especially in front of him. It was hard to look at him without wanting to open up your heart to him, especially when his presence was so welcoming.

“Won’t you talk to me about it?” He pleaded in a mellow voice and an even softer gaze, his eyes rounding and brows scrunching.

There. Your weakness.

“Yunho. You can’t look at me like that,” you tossed the pen on the table between you and slumped back, folding your arms as you softly admonished. “This won’t work on me anymore.”

“What?”

“Those eyes of yours,” you said and he choked on his laughter. He proceeded to loosen his tie, the top button of his shirt conveniently unbuttoned already. Strands of hair messily fell over his forehead and you had to physically restrain the urge to run your hands through his soft hair.

“I’d say it’s working,” he smiled almost victoriously, leaning forward. “Can you really not talk about it?”

You pressed your lips tightly in consideration before you finally gave in. You were only human, after all. “Yeosang told me about how the RV spies are protecting me from some threat that is not my father.”

Yunho whistled in realisation. Of course that was bothering you. “I knew he was going to tell you.”

“I expected you would tell me.”

“Well, I was the one who insisted that we don’t tell you yet for exactly this reason,” he looked at you pointedly and you hid your face behind your hands, guilty. “You’re all worried now. Anyways, I wouldn’t believe anything they say right away without verification, though they’re a pretty reliable source.”

You uncovered your face. “Don’t tell the rest that I know, okay?”

Yunho laughed softly but agreed. “So? Any thoughts about who might be interested in you?”

“I wouldn’t be in this state if I had it figured out,” you almost cried out. “I have been very low-profile until I started working here in the office. I can’t think of anyone who would want to get rid of me– for what? For the information I possess? What information exactly, because what I have right now only threatens Secretary Park… unless…”

“Unless Secretary Park’s secret is someone else’s secret too?” Yunho finished for you and you nodded. “Do you recall who exactly was the person your father was discussing the Strictland matter with?”

“I only caught a glimpse and I didn’t recognise him– I must have seen him for the first time,” you said. 

“Do you think you could recognise him if you see him again?”

“Maybe?” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “If they’re trying so hard to hide it, and if the person who’s after me must be someone my father has partnered with on the Strictland matter, It must mean whatever is happening in Strictland is actually taking place… right?”

Yunho didn’t need to answer that– he was sure that if you were not hiding anything else from them, this might be it. 

“We’re taking care of it, okay? You really don’t have to worry about it– or if you have to worry, don’t think about it too much. You don’t have any answers yet, and that’s okay.”

You offered him a weak smile and got up to place the compiled folder on his desk. When you were about to go back to sit across from him, he patted the space next to him instead.

“Come here.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at the way his voice sounded like a command. You could resist, but his gaze was incredibly pulling so you settled next to him, keeping a respectful distance between your bodies.

“Is that all you’ve been worrying about?”

“Well… obviously not,” you shot him a look but when his fingers curled around your hand, you didn’t snatch it away. “I don’t know what you want from me, Yunho.”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” he started but you shook your head.

“You’ve talked to Yeosang, haven’t you?” You asked and he didn’t respond, searching your eyes. “And he’s talked to you. You all talk to each other. You’re all far too close with each other. I’m noticing that recently.”

“Really?” He said in an almost mocking tone. “And what other observations has our little secretary made?”

“Yunho,” you called in a warning tone. “I’m not trying to judge you or probe into whatever it is that is going on between you guys. But I am beginning to understand that you’re all a team and everyone knows everything about each other.”

“And?”

“And…” you sighed, looking at your joined hands and sliding your thumb across his skin. “I don’t know.”

“What do you want from us?” Yunho asked softly. 

There it was. Us. It was never a ‘me’. It was always an ‘us’.

“What do you mean by ‘us’?” You raised a brow.

“Are you sure you’re ready to hear that answer?”

Oh, fuck him. He was literally steering the conversation in the same direction that Yeosang had.

“Well, you can stop confusing me for once and talk,” you snatched your hand away this time. 

“How can I talk when I don’t know what you want from me, or from Yeosang?” Yunho raised a brow,a teasing smile plastered on his face. “We kissed. You like Yeosang.”

“I like you too,” you added and immediately regretted it when you saw his grin grow wider. “Does it not bother you? That I like him and you both?”

Yunho only smiled and looked down, trying to form a response but failing to because this was a confession–

And this meant that Seonghwa really was right about you. He was one meticulous bastard.

“Does it bother you?” Yunho asked, and you finally realised that this was the question you should be asking yourself.

Does it bother you that you like Yeosang and Yunho? Does it bother you that you were attracted to San and that one soft look from Seonghwa made you feel like you could soar into the skies? Does it bother you that the Captain– Hongjoong– meant so much to you that the bracelet he gave you was becoming an anchor for you to remind you that you were safe, protected, and perhaps, wanted?

Could any of it be the beginning of something beautiful and unknown, or had you finally lost your mind?

“Don’t get lost in there,” Yunho scooted closer, planting a kiss on your temple and remaining close. “Just do me a favour and figure out your feelings about us first, will you? I can’t explain anything until you’re sure that… that you want us like we want you.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, stomach twisting into knots though your heart raced in anticipation.

Yunho wasn’t going to answer that, but he could help ease your confusion a little. “It’s okay if you choose one of us, or none of us. We will respect your decisions. But… you can also choose more of us. We don’t mind.”

Suddenly, everything started to make a little more sense– the subtle glances the boys would exchange among themselves when you were in the room. The way Seonghwa always looked like he knew something about you that even you didn’t. The way Yunho must have known Yeosang liked you before he kissed you and still told him– and the way Yeosang knew Yunho had kissed you and wanted to hear it from your mouth. The way he looked at your bracelet knowingly– was it a marker that you were theirs now? 

Oh, and how San was almost flirting with you as of recently. The thing Wooyoung had said about you not just being their secretary, but a part of their inner circle– just what did being a part of their inner circle entailed? And the way Mingi and Jongho were so welcoming and friendly towards you– while they had not done anything to make you feel like they had crossed some platonic boundary, you were suddenly reading too much into everything.

“Does it overwhelm you?”

“Of course it does,” you admitted but when you didn’t flinch away from him, he took that as a positive sign. “I need time.”

“Of course. You have all the time in the world. There really is no rush,” he brushed the pad of his thumb along your cheek in soft, slow caresses.

“And I want you to stop swaying my feelings.”

Yunho’s head dipped down in silent surrender to guilt, though the smirk creeping on his face threatened to give him away. “I’m sorry but I can’t resist that. Not until you give me a solid rejection.”

“Ah, let’s end it then–”

“Hey!” He placed his hand over your mouth to keep you from finishing the sentence and you burst into giggles, even more so when you tried pushing him away, but before you knew it, he was almost on top of you with a finger on his mouth shushing you, his hand on your mouth dampening your laugh until you stopped, realising the tangled position that you were in and feeling warmth course through your entire body– warmth that made you shiver as if you were cold instead.

“Quiet, okay?” Yunho whispered and you nodded, eyes wide. “And don’t reject me right now.”

He pulled his hand away, rubbing the smear of the lipstick at the corner of your mouth when he discovered it, his lips parting in concentration and when he was done, he looked into your eyes to find them laden with–

Desire. It had to be desire. If your eyes weren’t indication enough, the way your breath quickened was.

Yunho licked his lips instinctively, his breath getting heavier with want and you wondered if he really wanted you as badly as you wanted him. Ignoring that you both had agreed to give you some space, you pushed yourself upwards just a bit, crowding his personal space and his breath hitched when he found you inches away.

It was electrifying to know that someone wanted you back for once and when you looked at him pleadingly, he crashed his lips on yours, making you fall right back on the couch. You looped your arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, arching into him and he caught your body in an embrace with one arm around your back and the other cradling the back of your neck. 

While your kiss at the park had been passionate, this one was putting it to shame– he poked his tongue inside your mouth at the first opportunity, deepening the kiss and then angled his face to kiss you better. His hand travelled down to your waist and a suggestive squeeze elicited a moan from your mouth which he was quick to swallow with a kiss. When you finally drew back for breath, he rested his forehead against yours for just a moment before proceeding to trail kisses down your cheek, along your jaw and then downwards, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Yunho,” you softly whispered, relishing the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, running your fingers through his hair lovingly. He hummed against your neck, resting his lips on the juncture of your neck, realising that perhaps… he should have waited. You both should have waited.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t end this on a good note. He looked up at you with an understanding smile, washing away all your worries. And then he peppered kisses all over your face, eliciting a shy smile. With a final few pecks to your lips, he nodded in satisfaction.

“Yeah, I’ll give you your space.”

You laughed darkly, shaking your head. Patting his chest twice, you got out of his embrace which was a struggle in every sense.

“Maybe we should start including Seonghwa in our meetings too so we don’t end up making out each time we’re alone.”

“Oh, he would enjoy that,” Yunho commented and you raised a brow but he only shook his head, ending the conversation.

It was electrifying to know that someone wanted you back. And not just someone…

But someone else too, and perhaps more.

Despite your recent interactions with the boys, the looming threat over your head came to be the reason that your mood turned as bleak as the evenings of Eden. Yunho asked you if it was something he did but you assured him that you were more worried about figuring out who was after you and how it was tied to Strictland.

Seonghwa, of course, also noticed the shift in your mood. He was aware of everything that had gone down the past few days and he wondered if now was a good time to tell you about the recent deal they were preparing to offer to a certain business figure– the deal that would originally have been Secretary Park’s. Hongjoong insisted that now was the only time and since the new contender was from Wonderland, your opinion might prove to be valuable again.

“Luna?” He called, having been watching you for a few moments. You had been staring out through the window for the past few minutes and his voice almost made you jump. “Is everything okay?”

“Yep. Just… admiring the weather,” you pointed outside, the clouds rumbling with comical timing.

“Brilliant weather, innit?” Seonghwa chuckled. “Can you join us for our meeting?” 

“Of course,” you answered, beginning to wrap up the files on the table. “I’ll join you in a few moments.”

When you entered the boss’ room, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were already in the middle of a discussion seated across from each other on the sofas. You took a seat next to Seonghwa.

“We have a business contender regarding our drug approval,” Seonghwa began. “The one that we almost signed with Secretary Park.”

“Oh, that’s… great news?” You looked between them, unsure if it was good news since you had little to no knowledge about the drug they intended to get approved. It was still a secret known only amongst the bosses and a selected few employees.. “Who is it?”

“Madame Tiffany Hwang– she is a respectable business figure in Wonderland. Have you heard about her?” Hongjoong asked.

“She’s the owner of quite a few businesses,” you recalled, having seen the face in the newspaper of Wonderland quite a lot during your time there. “I don’t really remember which ones but her most notable endeavour has to be SNSD, the tech company. She’s the CEO, I believe?”

“That’s right,” Hongjoong passed you a file which contained information on Madame Tiffany’s business and a little background check. She was a Wonderland citizen who was going to be visiting Eden to expand her business and possibly do a collaboration with a tech company here. “She visited Edenary a few months ago. We acquainted ourselves and she showed interest in investing in other businesses. I think she’ll take up our offer.”

“Why?” You wondered out loud. “From what I know, she’s a very well-established figure in the business world. What would she be gaining from investing in your pharmaceutical business?”

“The upper hand,” Hongjoong smirked and you looked at Seonghwa who nodded. “The drug we aim to launch is one already known amongst the elite class of the continent– we’re talking Halaland, Wonderland and Utopia among other countries. I suppose she’ll be gaining power, at the very least.”

“Can you tell me more about this drug?” You asked. 

Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa and the underboss nodded, leaning forwards and speaking in a low volume. “That drug… It's called silver light. We discovered its existence during the war when one of our soldiers came across a batch accidentally. We started using it as a numbing drug during medical emergencies– it seemed to work better than the painkillers we had in reserve so we kept it for the extreme cases.”

“After the war ended,” Hongjoong added, “I did a little digging in. I found out that the batch we used up was meant for the highest ranking military. They rarely fought at the scene so I wondered why they would need such a drug, but then I realised it wasn’t a medicine– not yet. It was just a drug that was consumed for pleasure.”

“So while people laid their lives for this land,” Seonghwa sighed deeply in conclusion, “the elites kept such a medically beneficial drug for entertainment purposes.”

“Oh my god,” you were thoroughly surprised at their revelation. “That’s… ridiculous. I served as a medical assistant for about two years in the war but I never heard of such a drug.”

“No one in Eden is aware of its existence save for the elites who consume this drug for pleasure,” Hongjoong told you. “It’s an opioid based drug so it is banned not only in Eden but the entire continent. The only way we get our hands on this drug is through underground channels. You bet that once we make it public that we’re trying to launch it into the market for medical purposes, the elites will do anything to stop us.”

“Does anyone else know about this yet? Secretary Park?” You asked.

“No, but he must suspect something considering that he’s from Edenary and is himself a pharmaceutical company owner,” Seonghwa answered. “It would be strange if he’s aware of its existence and hasn’t tried to launch it or, well, use it in one way or another.”

You nodded slowly. “Are you sure Madame Tiffany will be the right person for the deal?”

“That’s why you’re here,” Hongjoong resigned back, crossing his legs, a faint smirk on his lips. “We’ll be the judge of that, and if you have any connections in Wonderland who could do you a favour and conduct another background check on her… that would be much appreciated.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you confirmed. You were familiar with your aunt’s gang and could probably ring them for this. 

“We’re short on time though. Madame Tiffany is arriving in Edenary in a week. Her schedule is going to be packed so we can’t say if she’ll visit Sector 1. We should be prepared to make a visit to Edenary, and if it looks like she’s the right investor, we will prepare to make arrangements and receive her here.”

You made an impressed face at Seonghwa. “Looks like you’re getting busier soon.”

“We are getting busy,” Seonghwa smiled deviously. “What do you think about joining us on our visit to Edenary?” 

“Me? Edenary?” You gaped at him. The air in the room suddenly felt too cold despite the nervous sweats now oozing out of your body. “But…”

“I think it’s about time you stopped hiding in the shadows,” Hongjoong said, clasping his hands together. “Secretary Park will be there, as well as a lot of politicians and business people. You might recognise most of them, and from what I know, a lot of people might recognise you too.”

“Secretary Park,” you muttered. “Are you sure about this?”

“I think it’s a good opportunity to let him know that you’re no longer afraid of him,” Seonghwa mused. 

“And an even better opportunity to find out who really wants to get me,” you said, referring to the information you learned from Yeosang and the men exchanged glances. “I’m aware. It has to be someone from Edenary since they only took action after I got involved with your company. If it was a local, they had plenty of opportunities to get rid of me.”

“Right…” Hongjoong shrugged in acceptance. “So? Are you willing to accompany us as our secretary? Are you willing to announce to the world that you are a part of our inner circle? Because your visit to Edenary will be changing a lot of things, Luna.”

You straightened, feeling a surge of confidence boost through you. If the bosses of the Crescents were willing to trust you, you were not going to let them down. “It’s a good opportunity to tie up loose ends,” you said. “I need to have a talk with my father. It’s long overdue.”

“Perfect,” Hongjoong clapped. “We leave in two days. Wipe that grim look off your face, Luna. Show them what you’re made of.”

It felt surreal to enter the capital of Eden through the Sector 1 gate, the diamond-shaped carvings on the gates bisecting as the metal frame opened with a loud creak, true to its old age. The eight gates around Edenary that opened to the eight sectors– or rather, enclosed the capital of Eden within its confines– were as old as Eden itself. Each gate was colossal and identical in its built but with a unique carving on it that was representative of its sector. 

Since Sector 1 was known for Maddox and Co., the famous luxury jewellery shop that was established by the royals of Eden who were big fans of diamonds, the gate had diamond shaped carvings on it to honour the memory of the shop’s origin. It truly was a magnificent sight and it was your first time seeing the gate so you couldn’t help but peek through the window as you crossed the invisible line that indicated your entry into the capital.

It was just as fascinating to enter Edenary as an outsider from Sector 1, of all the sectors. Any person belonging to the upper class usually resided in Sector 2 if not in Edenary. Sector 2, situated in the western region of Eden, was home to the monarchy once and had the Royal Palace in its heart. The Royal Palace was now a government office, sort of an unofficial parliament house after the monarchy was abolished. Sector 2 could have been your home if your life had taken a different course of events. 

If the other passengers in the car noticed your enthusiasm, they didn’t comment on it. Seonghwa, however, could not hold back the light chuckle when you turned in your seat to watch the gates close from the rear window. The leather seats of Hongjoong’s Bentley car suddenly felt too hot– or perhaps, it was the embarrassment seeping into the seats through your body. 

“What?” You retorted, your lips curling into a pout in embarrassment as you tried to match the gaze of the underboss who was seated on your left, clad in a classic tweed suit. “It’s my first time seeing the Sector 1 gate.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Seonghwa raised his hands in surrender, an amused smile plastered on his face. Hongjoong, who was seated in the front, spared you both a glance from his half-nap and let out his signature scoff.

“Seonghwa had a worse reaction when we first saw the gate. He’s probably reminiscing, let him be,” the boss said and Taeyong, the boss’ bodyguard and designated driver of sorts, laughed in agreement.

“He wanted to take a moment to admire, which meant the moment could last half an hour, so I had to physically restrain him,” Taeyong recalled. “He was salty with me for two whole days.”

“I wasn’t,” Seonghwa muttered and you were once again surprised by the almost childish banter that ensued. It really was a rare sight to have the boss and the underboss of the Crescent Company quibbling, and even better that their crew members like Taeyong were on almost casual terms with the Crescents. You were suddenly reminded of Jaemin, the young informant who everyone at the office adored. 

The Crescents truly were different and so human, and you wished they did more to mend their reputation. 

You resorted to watching out of the window while the men chatted. The bare deciduous trees that bordered the highway started to thin as you drew closer to the heart of the capital, revealing more familiar sights of civilization– farmhouses, shops, and warehouses. Before you knew it, you were in the middle of the town where most of the offices and government buildings were located and where the elites of Eden resided. 

You quietly let the dreary, almost lifeless colours of Edenary imprint on your eyes, making silent notes of what changed since the past few years that you stepped in Edenary, which was not much. Just less nature and more artificial spaces. The people sauntering in the streets still looked as pompous as ever, dressed to the max, too absorbed in the newspaper in their hand or occupied with the pet they were walking. 

“The Eden Dome,” Hongjoong’s caught your attention, prompting you to tilt your head to look at the building through the front– the magnificent presidential office with a washed out cerulean blue dome in the middle. The dome along with the accents of gold on the building seemed to be the only colour in Edenary.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like to you. The Eden Dome was President Lee’s office. Your father’s workplace. 

The road curved around the domed building and opened to Eden Square, a large fountain in the middle marking the heart of the capital. You steered towards the left to the residential area where you would be staying in an apartment owned by Hongjoong. One of his crew members, Jaehyun, was a resident there along with a young guard who went by the name ‘Ten’. They were supposedly in charge of handling the Crescents’ Edenary affairs (and spying). 

As the car came to a halt in front of one of the many apartment buildings, you could almost see yourself as Park y/n, the daughter of a businessman running an errand for her father, scrambling through the streets with documents in her hands, the hat on her head threatening to fall off with the wind. You were almost back to being the twenty-one year old who did anything and everything to earn at least one phrase of acknowledgment from her father. 

Oh, how you wished your father would look past your birth status and see that you, too, were capable of great things. Things that even his son wasn’t capable of. He could have given you one chance, and everything would have been different–

“Luna?”

It was your boss’ voice that reminded you that you were no longer related to Secretary Park. That you were almost his rival now. Seven years wasn’t a short amount of time and things would never go back to what they were before.

You shivered involuntarily and nodded to let the boss know that you were okay before grabbing your things and following the men inside the building. 

Somehow, your heart raced with anticipation– not to meet perhaps the most famous businesswoman in the continent, or to finally be a part of the Edenary crowd, but to see the unfiltered rage behind your father’s eyes when he would see you standing with the leaders of the most extensive underground organisation of Eden.

You missed Yunho.

Or rather, his warning about the Edenary crowd echoed in your head. You once mentioned to him that you kind of missed the feeling of being an Edenary citizen and how you always wanted to attend one of the business parties that your father was always talking about. He had initially found it amusing and you wondered why, but his words were starting to make sense now. He was right to believe that the Edenary crowd was overwhelming and that they watched every move you made as if they were vultures, waiting for a chance to grab a bite.

It was suffocating, and you almost wished you were back at the office or having late night snacks with your roommate Wendy. 

It was ultimately Seonghwa’s presence in the room, constant and reassuring, that calmed you. He would catch your eye and exchange a subtle nod, or smile in a way that was only meant for your eyes. Whenever he would pass by you, he would pat your cheek or squeeze your shoulder, silently praising you for your performance here. After all, everyone in the building tonight was a performer, masking their schemes and presenting a carefully crafted facade.

While Seonghwa’s presence in your peripheral vision calmed you, it was Hongjoong who kept you grounded and focused. You were Hongjoong’s partner tonight. Before your arrival here when you were getting ready for the event, Hongjoong had knocked on your door and entered with a satisfied smile when he found you standing straight and proud in front of the mirror, practising your posture.

“I was half-sure you’d be moping in a corner but Seonghwa was right. You look lovely.”

You consciously tugged at the silk fabric of your black dress, thanking him and looking back at your reflection. You decided that you did not have to be from Edenary to look like you belonged here– Hongjoong was proof of that. Dressed in a fancy black suit with a sequined jacket, he looked nothing short of elegant. As he stood behind you, looking at your form in the mirror, you wondered if your outfits were matching on purpose– not just you and Hongjoong, but Seonghwa as well, in his own black sequined suit. Your elbow-length gloves matched them perfectly. Even though it might be a calculative move, it felt intimate.

“I have another something for you,” Hongjoong started and you turned to him, giving him a warning look which he ignored. 

“I can afford my own dresses and jewellery, Sir,” you told him, already having argued about how the ‘company’ paid for your dress tonight, but he only continued to wave the small package in his hand and you reluctantly took it, opening the box inside to find a pearl necklace.

“Kim Hongjoong,” you called his full name for the first time out loud, making him chuckle deeply. “Tell me you rented this.”

“I got it for you,” he corrected.

“But… it’s Maddox and Co.,” you almost cried, knowing how valuable it must have been. “You can’t keep giving me things like this.”

“And who says I can’t?” He raised a brow. “I always get something for the boys. I can get things for you too.”

When you only responded with another glare, he let out a dismissive huff and proceeded to pick the necklace from the box, beckoning you to turn. Hesitantly, you did and swept your curls up so he could put the necklace on for you. When he was done fastening it, he placed his hands on your shoulders, admiring how the pearl sat between your collarbones.

You could not complain– it was absolutely magnificent.

“It matches your ring,” he said with a wicked grin and you scoffed in disbelief. He got you that necklace not only to match with your ring, but to let Secretary Park know that the ring wasn’t the only valuable thing in your possession anymore. Somehow, that did nothing to ease your nerves, though when Hongjoong squeezed your bare shoulders, you smiled in acceptance. You could wear this tonight. 

“Remember to stand tall just like this,” Hongjoong said before letting go. “And stay by my side. You’re not a bookkeeper or a secretary tonight– or even anymore. You’re just Luna of The Crescent Company, got it? You’ll make a name for yourself tonight.”

“I don’t understand why you’re allowing me to,” you told him. It was the simple truth, a question that nagged you time and time again.

“Because darling,” Hongjoong stepped closer, almost whispering in your ear now, maintaining eye contact through the mirror. “You’re my weapon now. I’ll proudly wield you. Just like I am your shield and you’ll use me when you need protection.”

A weapon and a shield. What a pair you made. And oh, he acted like your shield alright. While introducing you to the guests at the party, he didn’t let anyone question your position in the company or your status. You were just Luna of The Crescent Company– someone important enough to have made it here. They could wonder all they want.

“Here he comes,” Hongjoong leaned forward to whisper in your ear while you were sipping on your drink, distracted by the familiar faces in the crowd, though hardly anyone recognised you. 

You were at Mr. Jang’s residence, the co-owner of Eden News. He was a pretty influential person in Eden and it was always an advantage to be in his good graces. Hongjoong’s announcement made you think that he meant the host himself was here.

Except when you turned and followed the direction of his gaze, you frowned in confusion as you tried to locate the host but instead, found someone else entirely.

Secretary Park Byung Eun. Your father.

He seemed to be just as startled to see you, his gaze briefly sliding past before his attention snapped back. HIs face fell pale when he realised that your partner tonight was none other than Kim Hongjoong of The Crescent Company. 

He, of course, pretended to be unfazed as he approached you, pretending as if he intended  to greet Hongjoong. He could not act as if he hadn’t seen the pair of you now. Hongjoong rested his hand on your back, lightly caressing it in both reassurance and warning and you took a deep breath, the pearls around your neck suddenly feeling heavier than the fur scarf that was draped on your shoulders.

“Colonel Kim,” Secretary Park’s voice almost echoed inside your head. “Been a while.”

It had been a long time since you heard the man’s voice. You physically restrained yourself from reacting, though your resolve was starting to crumble.

“It has,” Hongjoong’s grin was giving him away. “I see you’ve met Seonghwa?”

“Always a gentleman,” your father nodded, not meeting your eyes. Even though you were right in front of him, he was pretending he could not see you.

It had always been like this. He still looked the same– clean shaven face, droopy lids and wavy hair. Perhaps, he looked a little older than the last time you saw him which was about three years ago, but he was still the same man and it irked you so much–

“Meet Luna,” Hongjoong said and your father finally met your eyes. “My partner.”

You looked at Hongjoong in surprise– partner? Perhaps, your father was just as shocked, the frown deepening on his face as he tried to grasp what Hongjoong meant by the term ‘partner’. 

Hongjoong only smiled casually, his hand moving to rest on the side of your waist and your father made an impressed face.

“Partner… I see,” he looked at you, scanning your face. “Didn’t realise you were interested in business… Luna.”

A warning. Hongjoong must have sensed that, because he answered for you. “Sometimes, we don’t see what’s right in front of our eyes, isn’t that right, Mr. Park?”

When Secretary Park raised a brow, Hongjoong looked down with a laugh. “I mean… she was right in front of me for a while. It just took me a long time to figure out how valuable a partner she makes.”

“Right,” Secretary Park sighed in resignation. “But sometimes, we think too highly of someone. Sometimes, we even think too highly of ourselves, eh?”

It was the same phrase you’d heard so many times. Yet… hearing it now felt like as much of a stab as it did when you were younger.

“You must think very highly of me then,” you scoffed, unable to hold back the distaste in your tone. “I trust you got a message, recently?”

The message was the warning that Yunho had sent through his men to Secretary Park. He was not to mess with you or any of them again. Truly, your father must think highly of you if he wanted to eliminate you, right?

“Received,” he said with a fake smile before shifting his attention to the boss. “So, Colonel Kim. Who do you plan to use as bait tonight? A certain major general turned assemblyman has been sniffing in places he shouldn’t be. I trust you’ve got nothing to do with it?”

Hongjoong raised his hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t know anything. I tend to keep away from politics as much as I can,” he smoothly lied– he was both behind it and a bit too interested in politics recently. “I can look into it for you? If that’s what you’d like?”

“No need,” he raised his glass in toast. “Thank you very much.”

“Ah,” you huffed. “Must be something you want to keep under the covers.”

“Wouldn't you know all about that,” he narrowed his eyes. You only tightened your smile in response.

“We’re only here to get acquainted with Madame Tiffany, just like everyone else,” Hongjoong interrupted, breaking the war of glares.

“Oh, so that’s who your new business partner is going to be?” Secretary Park asked.

“If we’re lucky to make a deal, sure,” Hongjoong shrugged. “As a businessman yourself, you must know that it’s a trial and error process of meeting potential partners. It’s a shame our deal fell through.”

“Truly,” Secretary Park scoffed. “Madame Tiffany, huh? I really hope you shake hands with her then.”

While the smirk he passed you went unnoticed by Hongjoong, you recognised that expression very well. This certain curl of his lips indicated that he knew more than he let on– that he was winning and you were going to meet defeat in the worst way. You felt the hair on the back of your neck rise in warning, especially when he himself offered to introduce you both to Madame Tiffany.

You reluctantly followed the boss, Seonghwa joining you on your way to the main hall and asking if you were alright. You shrugged it off because now was not the time, though you wish you could warn the bosses that something was amiss.

You spotted Madame Tiffany, in all her glory, in the middle of the room with all eyes on her even though she was deep in a conversation with someone. Everyone seemed to be waiting to catch her attention, and truly, she looked every bit like the rumours you had heard– beautiful in her pale pink dress, elegant and strong in the way she carried herself with her confident smile and straight shoulder, naturally exuding a subtle air of power.  

But you could not get the look in your father’s eyes out of your head. You had requested a background check on Madame Tiffany through Madame Cha, your aunt. As a Wonderland local, she must know if Madame Tiffany was all that she appeared to be. If there really wasn’t anything more to her and she was just a businesswoman looking to expand her empire, that would be ideal. 

Secretary Park offered to introduce Hongjoong to Madame Tiffany, which was an unusual move from him. You may not have been to any of the business parties in Edenary when you lived here but you knew that your father was the type of person who would never help another person if they benefited from something. Everything that he did was meaningful and ultimately resulted in the downfall of whoever crossed his path. You often wondered why President Lee kept such a man as his secretary– perhaps, because he needed someone like him as his shield?

And then you were reminded of Hongjoong’s words. You were his weapon, and he was your shield, but you supposed that sometimes, a weapon was used to protect oneself too, just like a shield was used to strike at times. 

“Mr. Kim,” Madame Tiffany shook hands with your boss. “I’m glad to have finally met you. I’ve heard so much about your business.”

Hongjoong seemed pleased. “All good things, I hope.”

“Wonderful things,” she smiled. “Especially about your contribution to Eden after the war. It’s truly remarkable.”

“Well, I look forward to our scheduled meeting tomorrow then,” Hongjoong placed a hand on his chest and bowed. “Perhaps, we’ll be able to contribute more to Eden’s wellbeing.”

“It would be an honour,” Madam Tiffany mimicked his greeting and Hongjoong spotted an acquaintance, saying he would be back in a few minutes. As soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Seonghwa who was watching you carefully.

“What do you think about Madame Tiffany?”

“Seems like you’ve got something on your mind,” Seonghwa said in a low voice, shaking his head. “Not here, though. We’ll talk when we get back.”

You nodded, noticing your father at the end of the hall, beckoning you to join him in an empty room that seemed to be a study. You looked at Seonghwa. “Can I go talk to my father?”

“Of course, love. Are you sure?” He asked, tucking a curl behind your ear. “If you want me to come with you, I can. Or if you don’t want to talk to him, I can let him know–”

“No, I… I should talk. It’s been a while, and there’s a lot I haven’t said to him,” you let out a short, sad laugh. “Not the best time for confrontation but I think he’s up to something. I should do this.”

“You don’t have to,” Seonghwa insisted, holding your hand. “But if you wish to, I won’t stop you.”

You squeezed his hand to let him know that you would be okay. Taking a deep breath, you moved towards the room and went inside, keeping the door ajar just in case.

“Luna, is it now?” Secretary Park asked almost nonchalantly as he circled around the desk in the room before taking a seat.

“Yeah, but you would know all about that, wouldn’t you? Considering how you’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

“Come on,” he scoffed, sparing you a glance. “Can’t a father check on his daughter every now and then?”

“Sure,” you folded your arms and narrowed your eyes. “If by check, you mean almost killing me and the people around me, sure.”

“Well, I did order you to keep a low profile,” he reminded you. His tone was no longer playful. “But look at you. Couldn’t stay away from the spotlight in Edenary, could you?”

“You ordered me to keep a low profile and then disowned me, in case you forgot. Cut my name off from the family register and all, right? What makes you think you have any control over my life anymore?”

“You’ve always been feisty like that, y/n,” he clicked his tongue. “It could cost you a lot– but it looks like I won’t have to pull any strings now. You will bring the downfall of the company and the gangsters you love so much now.”

“If they’re gangsters, what does that make you?” You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t tell me your hands are any less dirtier than theirs.”

“Y/n,” he called in warning but you shook your head. 

“Don’t ever come after me or mine again,” your voice shook as you warned him, the years of anger starting to make their way up to your throat from your gut. “Unless you want to start a war that you can never win.”

Secretary Park scoffed loudly but it soon turned into a fit of mocking laughter and you watched him clutch his stomach as he bent over, wiping his eyes. 

“My dear, I wish I could tell you just what you have gotten yourself into,” he sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “But figures. You’ll be finding out soon anyway. You should have never stepped foot where you do not belong.”

Infuriated, you left the room and went straight to the table to down a drink which did nothing to calm the rage coursing through your veins. There was too much going on and you felt the urge to let it all out in the form of a scream or something worse–

“Luna,” Seonghwa’s voice sounded behind you but you didn’t turn, clutching at your glass dangerously hard. He placed a hand on your arm almost cautiously, caressing the bare skin. “Are you okay?”

“Just give me a moment,” you sniffed, looking up and willing the tears to go back inside. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’re leaving soon,” he squeezed your arm but you gently pushed his hand away before you turned to look at him. You saw a hint of hurt in his eyes and you wished you could tell him that you were only pushing him away because you were afraid you would break if he looked at you or touched you with such care. 

“I’ll go sit in the car– Taeyong’s outside, right?” You asked and Seonghwa nodded, escorting you outside and waiting until he spotted Taeyong. You shut yourself inside the car and took deep breaths, hoping that by the time you would be back and having a meeting to discuss how to move forward, you would be okay.

But you were very obviously far from okay. The car ride was awfully silent and Hongjoong seemed to have an inkling of your meeting with your father which was why he did not initiate a conversation. When you were back at the empty apartment, the three of you settled in the living room and Hongjoong lit his pipe.

“Any luck with the assemblymen, Seonghwa?” 

“Since the elections are near, they’re being cautious,” Seonghwa loosened his tie as he spoke.  “But I did get an idea of the political tide. It’s still in President Lee’s favour and there's a high chance he would be re-elected unless a scandal breaks out. But then… his image is too clean. I met General Wi as well. He said something about how he’s losing votes because of the Siren Rebel Party. He’s almost sure one of the rival politicians might be funding them so he can be out of the game– he is the second in lead right now.”

“Yeah, General Wi is desperate now. I’d honestly like to see some change too– President Lee should retire before someone digs up something about him and tarnish his image,” Hongjoong said, taking a long smoke and looking at you. “What do you think, Luna?”

“About?”

“Everything,” he put his pipe away. “What do you have to say about tonight? Do you think Madame Tiffany will make a good business partner?”

“I’m not sure, just like you,” you began and he nodded. “But… it was strange how Secretary Park reacted. He’s never the type of person to be a middleman in a potential deal, yet he was so willing to introduce the two of you. Madame Tiffany and him seem to be acquainted already– which, okay, they’re both business owners. But when I was talking to him in person,” you looked at Seonghwa who urged you to continue. “He said something about how I’ll soon be finding out what I have gotten myself into, and that… I would bring the downfall of the Crescents? I’m not quite sure if he was just saying this to rile me up or if he meant it.”

“Hmm… sounds like empty threats to me.”

“They’re not,” you shook your head. “He always means what he says. And I would like to warn you that when we meet Madame Tiffany tomorrow, keep in mind that they may be acquainted in more ways than they let on. If Madame Tiffany is in cahoots with Secretary Park… that could be the downfall he was talking about.”

“I have a feeling he said all of that just so you could try and stop me from making the deal with Tiffany,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa hummed in agreement. He could not deny that Hongjoong’s logic made sense too. “We have to entertain this possibility too. We’ve done our background check and everything seems okay, which is why we’re here in the first place.”

“Well, I still haven’t heard from Madame Cha, which means she’s looking into it,” you said determinedly. “She’s got connections with the underground channels in Wonderland and will be able to confirm if Madame Tiffany is good news or not.”

“We might not hear back from your aunt though,” Hongjoong shrugged.

“We will,” you insisted. “And if you rush, you might be doing exactly what Secretary Park wants you to do.”

“Well, you know what I think?” Hongjoong scoffed, leaning forward. “I think you’re letting your emotions regarding your father influence your judgement.”

“We must consider every possibility,” you said through gritted teeth, the emotions you had tried so hard to suppress making their way right back. “And Madame Tiffany is here for a few weeks. We can wait it out before we shake hands with her.”

“And miss a golden opportunity?” Hongjoong tsk-ed. 

“Remember that you missed your ‘golden opportunity’ when I warned you about Secretary Park,” you said and Seonghwa cleared his throat, wanting to calm the tension in the room but you and Hongjoong ignored it. “It could have cost you everything.”

“Luna, I’m sorry to burst your bubble but we are an old criminal organisation and we do not need to rely on your imposing opinions to save ourselves. We have other means,” Hongjoong reminded you and you settled back in resignation. “I will consider your words, but the decision is ultimately mine.”

Seonghwa grunted in warning but the damage had been done. 

“Right,” you bit your lips, your vision getting blurry. “For a second, you sounded exactly like the person I’ve been running away from. All that talk about being your partner but that’s what my opinions are to you? Imposing?”

Hongjoong realised that he had said too much that he didn’t really mean, or that he should have worded it differently. The vulnerability in your eyes made his stomach curl with regret. He glanced at Seonghwa who looked like he wanted to get up and comfort you but before he could do anything, you muttered that you were retiring for the night and went to your room.

Seonghwa sighed, looking at his partner. “Well done. Impressive way to handle the situation, Joong.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Hongjoong angrily sucked the pipe. “I meant it.” 

“But you regret it,” Seonghwa was smiling. Hongjoong spared him a glance. “Bad timing. She wasn’t alright after the meeting with her father, I told you.”

“Both sides of the coin, Hwa,” Hongjoong said. “Mine and hers. It’s going to be your decision– I can’t deal with her right now.”

“Yeah, you’re smitten,” Seonghwa laughed. “And you don’t know what to do about it for once. You always make a fool out of yourself when you’re like this.”

Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa angrily but when Seonghwa walked to him and caressed his hand, he calmed down. Hongjoong sighed deeply. 

“Has my heart hardened far too much for my own good?”

Seonghwa only shook his head. “I know why this deal means so much to you. But she’s right– we have to be cautious and consider every factor. With this Strictland business, we’re realising that even we do not fully know what’s happening in the underworld, right?”

“She’s a part of the Crescents now,” Hongjoong said. “I’m trying to hone her critical thinking skills. She needs that in order to survive– especially where it concerns Secretary Park.”

“He’s still her only family,” Seonghwa reminded him. “Let’s cut her some slack. I’ll go talk to her, okay?” 

When you heard the familiar soft knocks on your door, you wished you had locked the room– you were in no state to be seen, crouching in a corner with tears running down your eyes and your gloves and scarf sprawled on the floor near you. You did not respond to the knocks.

“Luna? Can you please open the door for me?”

You sniffed and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“Please?” He said. “I won’t leave until you do.”

“Lord, give me strength,” you muttered under your breath. “Come in.”

Seonghwa hesitantly opened the door, looking around and finding you in the corner next to the vanity, wiping your eyes. “Good heavens, Luna.”

“I told you I was fine,” you said, laughing at your own comment and he chuckled as he settled down on his knees in front of you. You hid your face in your hands, a fresh stream of tears running down your face. “I’m not crying because of the boss.”

“You can curse at him if you want. It can be our little secret,” Seonghwa said and you shook your head. “Also, you can call him Hongjoong. You don’t always have to address him so formally.”

“Okay, Mr. Park.”

“Seonghwa for you,” he tsk-ed. “Look at me. Come on, talk to me. What happened earlier?”

“I don’t know,” you wiped your eyes, looking at your hands and sighing– your mascara must be smudged everywhere on your face. “I didn’t expect it to be so… anticlimactic, the meeting with my father. All he had to offer was threats and warnings. I don’t understand how he can be so cruel towards me.”

“Was there something else you were expecting from him?” Seonghwa asked softly, caressing your hand. 

“Not really, but… at least a ‘good to see you’re well’? But then, he wants me dead so maybe I’ve been stupid to expect that.”

“Oh, dear,” Seonghwa pulled you closer, prompting you to settle on your knees instead of keeping them upright as a barrier between you two. “Tell me you said something he deserved to hear.”

“I did,” you sniffed. “I told him not to come after me or mine ever again unless he wants to start a war he can never win.”

A smirk creeped up the underboss’ lips, sending a stirring of nerves in your stomach. “Me or mine, huh?”

“I had to say something–”

“You did well,” Seonghwa said, cupping your face and wiping your eyes, nodding in acknowledgement. “You did so well, love. And I’m glad you stayed strong. You don’t ever have to break in front of your father anymore. You can break in front of me, in front of any of us but– never him.”

You looked at Seonghwa, truly looked at him. His eyes glinted with a million unsaid things, but even in the dim light of the lamp, you could tell that they held admiration and something like pride. Something you always wished to see in someone’s eyes when they looked at you.

“Why do you cry, love?” He asked, wiping the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks. You didn’t even realise that you were crying silently now.

“I don’t know,” you told him. “Seonghwa– can I really break in front of you?”

Something unreadable flickered across Seonghwa’s face. “You can. With me, or Hongjoong, or any of us, you can be yourself. We’re here– I’m here for you. You never have to feel alone again.”

You tightened your lips, stifling a sob. Seonghwa only smiled, scooting closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. You let out a shaky breath and then went still as he kissed your cheek. 

“Won’t you look at me?”

The deep timbre of his voice sounded inside your skull. You kept your eyes shut and he wiped the remnants of the tears away from your lashes before kissing both your eyelids, his soft lips like feathers of an angel's wing shielding you from everything that hurt you. Your hands tangled in his shirt as he continued to pepper light kisses all over your face, the sound of his breath making your heart flutter uncontrollably. However, he stopped right when he kissed near your mouth, his hands almost shaking as he cradled your jaw and pulled back to gauge your reaction.

“Look at me.”

“I’m scared,” you opened your eyes and your gaze stuck on his plump lips. “I don’t understand why you all want me. I don’t understand why we’re here, like this.”

He only smiled in answer. “Is it too much?”

“That’s the thing,” you scoffed in disbelief. “I don’t think it is.”

Seonghwa sucked in a breath, his grip on your neck tightening just a fraction though you spotted hesitation in his eyes. Before you knew it, you were leaning forwards– or perhaps, he was the one who closed the distance between your lips, instantly leaning into you with a force that had you resigning back against the wall. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair– god, he was a good kisser and he wasn’t letting you breathe for one second.

He broke apart for breath, only to tilt his face and kiss you at a different angle and you moaned into the kiss, unintentionally tugging at the length of his hair that made him bite your lower lip. You couldn’t help but think of the way Yunho had kissed you the last time in the office just as desperately, if not more. Yet with Seonghwa, it felt so different, especially the way he held your face and sucked at your lower lip.

With a peck to his lips, you drew away, almost sobbing again at the way he looked like he needed to kiss you again– he met your eyes, conveying that and you let him kiss you softly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and he shook his head.

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed and pursed your lips. “I need to figure out my feelings, Seonghwa. I can’t go around kissing any one of you.”

Seonghwa chuckled. “But you can–”

You shook your head adamantly though his permission made your head spin. “Give me some time.”

Seonghwa exhaled, nodding. “Alright. I can do that.”

A moment passed where the two of you simply stared at each other’s eyes, trying to navigate through the storm of emotions clouding them. You were so close that you could hear his soft breaths and the warmth emanating from his body felt welcoming, almost compelling you to come closer. 

“Do you want me?” You asked in a soft whisper and he almost choked on his own breath.

“You can’t just ask that all of a sudden,” he gave you a pained smile. “Are you ready to hear the answer?”

Oh, they were messing with you for sure. There was no way Yeosang and Yunho also had the same thing to say. “There’s no bet going around, is there?”

“We would never do that,” his assertive tone was an answer enough. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Luna, but we… we’re a really tightly-knit group. We value relationships. And you’re a part of our group now, yeah? We don’t want to do anything to jeopardise our relationship with you.”

“And this…” you looked at the small distance between you two. “This won’t jeopardise it?”

“It’s not that complicated, if you’re willing to hear us out,” Seonghwa settled back, playing with the hem of your dress. “We’re just… one. We’re a single unit, if you will. We’ve been through a lot together, and we continue to walk together. You can be a part of that, or you can just continue being our little secretary,” he chuckled and you laughed lightly. “It’s up to you.”

“I’ll… I’m thinking about it, I really am, but most of all, I’m just preparing myself to hear it from one of you,” you admitted and he suddenly looked hopeful. “But you– the boys, all of you. You’re close in more ways than you show it. Am I right?”

He smiled in answer. “Is it obvious?”

“It really isn’t,” you frowned through your smile, wondering if he was admitting it. “Seonghwa… this won’t change us, will it? This won’t doom us, right?”

“It won’t,” he assured you. “And we won’t let it. It can be your salvation if you want it to be, or your doom if you let it be.”

“Geez, thanks for that,” you said.

Your teasing and laughter grew louder, filling the space in the living room where Hongjoong was still present. He gulped down the last of his drink and set the glass on the table with a smile he would never let anyone see.

next chapter

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